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 | Ivvenilia |  |
292
Eleg. 11.
[See, see, fair Princesse, I but nam'd thee yet]
See, see, fair Princesse, I but nam'd thee yet,Meaning thy woes within my breast to smother:
But on my thoughts they do so lively beat,
As if I heard thee sighing, Oh my Brother:
Me thinks I heard thee calling on his name,
With plaining on his too ungentle fate:
And sure the Sisters were well worthy blame,
To shew such spite to one that none did hate,
I know thou sometime musest on his face,
(Fair as a womans, but more manly-fair.)
Sometime upon his shape, his speech, and pase,
A thousand waies thy griefes themselves repaire.
And oh! no marvell since your sure-pure loves
Were nearer, dearer, than the Turtle Doves.
| Ivvenilia | |