 | A Margarite of America |  |
[Euen at the brinke of sorrowes ceasles streames]
Euen at the brinke of sorrowes ceasles streames,
All well-me drownd through dalliance and disdaine,
Hoping to winne the truce in my extreames,
To perce that marble heart where pride remaines.
All well-me drownd through dalliance and disdaine,
Hoping to winne the truce in my extreames,
To perce that marble heart where pride remaines.
I send salt teares, sad sighes, and ruthful lines,
Firme vowes (and with these true men) my desire,
Which in his lasting sufferance scarce repines,
To burne in ceaslesse Aetna of her ire.
Firme vowes (and with these true men) my desire,
Which in his lasting sufferance scarce repines,
To burne in ceaslesse Aetna of her ire.
All which (and yet of all, the least might serue)
If too too weake to waken true regarde,
Vouchsafe O heauen that see how I deserue,
Since you are neuer partiall in rewarde,
That ere I die she may with like successe,
Weepe, sigh, write, vow and die without redresse.
If too too weake to waken true regarde,
Vouchsafe O heauen that see how I deserue,
Since you are neuer partiall in rewarde,
That ere I die she may with like successe,
Weepe, sigh, write, vow and die without redresse.
| A Margarite of America | |