Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
| 21 |  |
| 13 |  | I. |
| II. |
| 4 | | III. |
| IV. |
| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
| CXII. |
| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. | CXXII
|
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. |
| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
| CXL. |
| CXLI. |
| CXLII. |
| CXLIII. |
| CXLIV. |
| CXLV. |
| CXLVI. |
| CXLVII. |
| CXLVIII. |
| CXLIX. |
| CL. |
| CLI. |
| CLII. |
| CLIII. |
| CLIV. |
| CLV. |
| CLVI. |
| CLVII. |
| CLVIII. |
| CLIX. |
| CLX. |
| CLXI. |
| CLXII. |
| CLXIII. |
| CLXIV. |
| CLXV. |
| CLXVI. |
| CLXVII. |
| CLXVIII. |
| CLXIX. |
| CLXX. |
| CLXXI. |
| CLXXII. |
| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
| CLXXVII. |
| 2 | | V. |
| VI. |
| 2 | | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
CXXII
[Complaynyng, alas, without redres]
Complaynyng, alas, without redres,
Thus wofully do I my Lyfe Lede,
My harte Lamentyng in heuynes,
Through whose mekenes I am nere dede.
Thus wofully do I my Lyfe Lede,
My harte Lamentyng in heuynes,
Through whose mekenes I am nere dede.
This I induer alwayes in payne,
Dewoyd of pyty as in this Case,
Yet my pore Harte cannot refrayne;
Wherfore, Alas, I Dy, Alas!
Dewoyd of pyty as in this Case,
Yet my pore Harte cannot refrayne;
Wherfore, Alas, I Dy, Alas!
Soo vnkynd, alas, saw I never noone,
So hard hartid, so mych without pyty
As she to whome I make my mone;
Wherefore, alas, I Dy, I Dy.
So hard hartid, so mych without pyty
As she to whome I make my mone;
Wherefore, alas, I Dy, I Dy.
Where I Love best, I am refused;
Where I am Louyd, I doo not passe;
Where I wold faynest, I am dysdayned;
Wherefore I Dy, alas, alas!
Where I am Louyd, I doo not passe;
Where I wold faynest, I am dysdayned;
Wherefore I Dy, alas, alas!
Comforthles, complaynyng, thus I remayne;
Merceles, remaynyng without remedy;
Cruelnes incressyng through fals dysdayne,
Pytyles remaynyng, alas, I Dy, I Dy.
Merceles, remaynyng without remedy;
136
Pytyles remaynyng, alas, I Dy, I Dy.
But from hensforth I hold it best
Them for to loue that loueth me;
And then my hart shall haue sum rest,
Where now for payne I Dy, I Dy.
Them for to loue that loueth me;
And then my hart shall haue sum rest,
Where now for payne I Dy, I Dy.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |