 | Poems (1872) |  |
48
II. NOT ATTAINING TO HIS DESIRE HE COMPLAINETH.
I am not as I seeme to be, for when I smile, I am not glad;
A thrall although you count me free, I most in mirth, most pensiue sad;
A smile to shade my bitter spight, as Haniball that saw in sight
His country soyle, with Carthage towne, by Romaine force defacèd downe.
A thrall although you count me free, I most in mirth, most pensiue sad;
A smile to shade my bitter spight, as Haniball that saw in sight
His country soyle, with Carthage towne, by Romaine force defacèd downe.
And Cæsar that presented was with noble Pompei's princely head,
As 'twere some iudge to rule the case, a floud of teares he seemed to shed,
Although in deede it sprung of ioye, yet other thought it was annoy:
Thus contraries be vsed I finde, of wise to cloke the couert minde.
As 'twere some iudge to rule the case, a floud of teares he seemed to shed,
Although in deede it sprung of ioye, yet other thought it was annoy:
Thus contraries be vsed I finde, of wise to cloke the couert minde.
I Haniball that smiles for griefe, and let you Cæsars teares suffice,
The one that laughs at his mischiefe, the other all for ioy that cries;
I smile to see me scornèd so, you weepe for ioy to see me woe;
And I a hart by Loue slaine dead, presents in place of Pompei's head.
The one that laughs at his mischiefe, the other all for ioy that cries;
I smile to see me scornèd so, you weepe for ioy to see me woe;
And I a hart by Loue slaine dead, presents in place of Pompei's head.
49
O cruell hap and hard estate, that forceth me to loue my foe,
Accursèd be so foule a fate, my choice for to prefixe it so:
So long to fight with secret sore, and find no secret salue therefore,
Some purge their paine by plaint I finde, but I in vaine do breathe my winde,
Accursèd be so foule a fate, my choice for to prefixe it so:
So long to fight with secret sore, and find no secret salue therefore,
Some purge their paine by plaint I finde, but I in vaine do breathe my winde,
| Poems (1872) | |