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Epitaphes, Epigrams, Songs and Sonets

with a Discourse of the Friendly affections of Tymetes to Pyndara his Ladie. Newly corrected with additions, and set out by George Turbervile
 

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To his Loue long absent, declaring his torments.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


[65]

To his Loue long absent, declaring his torments.

O lingring Loue, O Friende
that absent art so long,
Where so thou be, the Gods thee guide
and quit thy Corse from wrong:
And sende thee harmelesse health,
and safely to reuart,
How soone your selfe may deeme full well
to saue a dying hart.
For since your parture I
haue lead a lothsome state:
And saue the hope of your returne
nought might my woes abate.
And will you know the time
how I haue spent away?
And doe you long in ruthfull rime
my torments to suruay?
Though but with weeping eies
I may the same recite:
Yet naythelesse the truth herein
to thee (my Friend) I write.
When flickring Fame at first
vnto mine eares had brought
That you to trauell were addrest,
and fixed was your thought

66

In London long to lodge,
and flee our friendly soile:
Then Dolour first in daunted Corps
and wounded breast did boile.
I felt how griefe did gi[illeg.]
the onset on my hart,
And sorrow sware that pensiue pangues
should neuer thence depart.
With clinching clawes there came,
and talents sharply set,
A flock of greedie griping woes
my grunting hart to fret.
The more I sought the meane
by pleasaunt thought to ease
My growing griefe, the more I felt
increase my new disease.
When other laught for ioy,
it brought to minde my woe:
When Musick slakte their sorrowes, then
my secret sore did growe.
When they at meate were set
their daintie foode to taste,
In stead of Viands, hartie sighes
I had for my repaste.
When Bacchus came to Boorde,
and eche to other drincks:
My swolen floud of salted teares
did ouerflow his brincks,

[66]

And out did gushe amaine
of drinke to stande in steede
To me, that of such monstrous meate
as sorrow was did feede.
From boorde to bed I goe,
in hope to finde reliefe,
And by some pleasaunt nap to rid
my troubled Ghost from griefe:
But slumbring sleepe is fled.
and Morpheus shewes his spight:
That will not yeelde on minuts reast
in all a Winters night.
O Lorde, what sundrie kindes
of care doe then begin
Tassault my wearie waking head,
and trembling hart within?
A thousande thoughts arise,
eche thought his torment brings:
And thus the lothed night I spend
and feele how sorrow springs.
And if in dawning chaunce
some drouping sleepe to light
Upon the carefull Corse that thus
hath spent the waking night:
It standes in little steade,
so dreadfull are my dreames
As they by force of wo procure
mine eies to runne with streames.

67

Then bathe I bed with brine,
and cloy my Couch with teares:
And mid my sleepe thy griesly Ghost
in straungie sort appeares.
Not with such friendly face
and brow of gladsome cheare
As earst thou hadst: those louely lookes
and blincks are all areare.
More grimmer is your grace,
more coye your countnance eake:
More lowring lookes than were of yore
and Brow more bent to wreake.
In hande mee thinkes I see
thee holde the hatefull knife
To slea thy Friend, and for good will
to reaue deserued lyfe.
Wherewith I wake afright
and straine my pillow fast,
To garde me from the cruell toole
vntill your wrath be past.
At length I see it plaine
that fansie did enforce
Unto his vgly monstrous dreame
my weake and slumbring Corse.
I vewe thy secret hart,
and how it longs to bee
With him that for vnfayned loue
impawnde his faith to thee.

[67]

For mercie then I call
of you that iudge so yll,
Whose pleasure is to garde your Friend,
and not your Foe to kyll.
Of dreames a thousand such
eche night I haue a share,
To bannish sleepe from pining Corse
and nurse my canckred care.
Thus day and night I liue,
thus night and day I die:
In death I feele no smart at all,
in life great wo I trie.
Wherefore to rid my griefes
and bannish all annoie:
Retire from Creece, and doe soiourne
here with thy Friend in Troie.
Who longs to see thy face
and witnesse of thy state:
And partner be of thy delights
Ahis furious fits to bate.