University of Virginia Library

Sonnet. XVIII.

[Tho with a showre of teares I entertained]

Tho with a showre of teares I entertained,
My wounded hart into my brest accloied:
VVith thousand sundrie cares and griefes vnfained,
Vnfained griefes and cares my hart annoied.
Annoying sorrowes at my harts returning,
Assaild my thoughts with neuer ceasing horror:
That euen my hart hart like to Ætna burning,
Did often times conspire for to abhorre her.
But enuious loue still bent to eke my mourning,
A grieuous pennance for my fault inflicted:
That eies should weepe and hart be euer groaning;
So loue to worke my sorrowes was addicted.
But earths sole wonder whose eies my sense appalled,
The fault was loues, then pardon me, for loue is franticke called.