University of Virginia Library

Coridon to his Phillis.

Alas my hart, mine eye hath wronged thee,
Presumptuous eye, to gaze on Phillis face:
Whose heauenly eye no mortall man may see,
But he must die, or purchase Phillis grace.
Poore Coridon, the Nimph whose eye dooth mooue thee:
Dooth loue to draw, but is not drawne to loue thee.
Her beautie, Natures pride, and Sheepheards praise,
Her eye, the heauenly Planet of my life:
Her matchlesse wit and grace her fame displaies,
As if that Ioue had made her for his wife.
Onely her eyes shoote fierie darts to kill:
Yet is her hart as cold as Caucase hill.
My wings too weake to flye against the Sunne,
Mine eyes vnable to sustaine her light:
My hart dooth yeeld that I am quite vndone,
Thus hath faire Thillis slaine me with her sight.
My bud is blasted, withred is my leafe:
And all my corne is rotted in the sheafe.
Phillis, the golden fetter of my minde,
My fancies Idoll, and my vitall power:
Goddesse of Nimphs, and honour of thy kinde,
This ages Phænix, beauties richest bower.
Poore Coridon for loue of thee must die:
Thy beauties thrall, and conquest of thine eye.
Leaue Coridon to plough the barren field,
Thy buds of hope are blasted with disgrace:
For Phillis lookes no harty loue doo yeeld,
Nor can she loue, for all her louely face.
Die Coridon, the spoile of Phillis eye:
She cannot loue, and therefore thou must die.