University of Virginia Library

previous section The Poems of Henry Howard
next section

14 THE TRAMMELS OF LOVE

As oft as I behold and see
The soveraigne bewtie that me bound,
The ner my comfort is to me,
Alas! the fressher is my wound.
As flame dothe quenche by rage of fier,
And roounyng streames consumes by raine,
So doth the sight that I desire
Apeace my grief and deadly payne.
Like as the flee that seethe the flame
And thinkes to plaie her in the fier,
That fownd her woe, and sowght her game,
Whose grief did growe by her desire.
When first I saw theise christall streames
Whose bewtie made this mortall wound,
I litle thought with in these beames
So sweete a venvme to have found.
Wherein is hid the crewell bytt
Whose sharpe repulse none can resist,
And eake the spoore that straynith eche wytt
To roon the race against his list.
But wilful will did prick me forth;
Blynd Cupide dyd me whipp & guyde;
Force made me take my grief in worthe;
My fruytles hope my harme did hide.
65

As cruell waues full oft be found
Against the rockes to rore and cry,
So doth my hart full oft rebound
Ageinst my brest full bitterly.
I fall and see my none decaye,
As he that beares flame in his brest
Fforgetes, for payne, to cast awaye
The thing that breadythe his vnrest.
And as the spyder drawes her lyne,
With labour lost I frame my sewt;
The fault is hers, the losse ys myne.
Of yll sown seed such ys the frewte.
previous section The Poems of Henry Howard
next section