Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt Edited by Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson |
 |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| CLXXVIII. |
| CLXXIX. |
| CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
| CLXXXII. |
| CLXXXIII. |
| CLXXXIV. |
| CLXXXV. |
| CLXXXVI. |
| CLXXXVII. |
| CLXXXVIII. |
| CLXXXIX. |
| CXC. |
| CXCI. |
| CXCII. |
| CXCIII. | CXCIII
|
| CXCIV. |
| CXCV. |
| CXCVI. |
| CXCVII. |
| CXCVIII. |
| CXCIX. |
| CC. |
| CCI. |
| CCII. |
| CCIII. |
| CCIV. |
| CCV. |
| CCVI. |
| CCVII. |
| CCVIII. |
| CCIX. |
| CCX. |
| CCXI. |
| CCXII. |
| CCXIII. |
| CCXIV. |
| CCXV. |
| CCXVI. |
| CCXVII. |
| CCXVIII. |
| CCXIX. |
| CCXX. |
| CCXXI. |
| CCXXII. |
| CCXXIII. |
| CCXXIV. |
| CCXXV. |
| CCXXVI. |
| CCXXVII. |
| CCXXVIII. |
| CCXXIX. |
| CCXXX. |
| CCXXXI. |
| CCXXXII. |
| CCXXXIII. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt |  |
CXCIII
[So vnwarely was never no man cawght]
So vnwarely was never no man cawght
With stedefast loke apon a goodly face,
As I of late; for sodenly me thowght
My hart was torne owte of hys place.
With stedefast loke apon a goodly face,
As I of late; for sodenly me thowght
My hart was torne owte of hys place.
Thorow myn Iye the strock frome hyrs dyd slyde,
Dyrectly downe vnto my hert ytt ranne;
In helpe wherof the blood therto dyd glyde,
And left my face both pale and wanne.
Dyrectly downe vnto my hert ytt ranne;
In helpe wherof the blood therto dyd glyde,
And left my face both pale and wanne.
203
Then was I leke a manne for woo amasyd,
Or leke the byrde that flyeth in to the fyer;
For whyll that I vpon her beaulte gasyd
The more I burnt in my desyre.
Or leke the byrde that flyeth in to the fyer;
For whyll that I vpon her beaulte gasyd
The more I burnt in my desyre.
Anon the blowd stert in my face agayne,
Enflamde with hete that yt had att my hart,
And browght therwith thorowt in euery vayne
A quakyng hete with plesaunt smert.
Enflamde with hete that yt had att my hart,
And browght therwith thorowt in euery vayne
A quakyng hete with plesaunt smert.
Then was I leke the strawe whan that the flame
Ys drevyn therin by force and rage off wynd;
I can nott tell, alas, what I shall blame,
Nor what to seke, nor what to fynd.
Ys drevyn therin by force and rage off wynd;
I can nott tell, alas, what I shall blame,
Nor what to seke, nor what to fynd.
But wele I wote the greffe holdes me so sore
In hete and cold betwyxt hope and drede,
That but her helpe to helth doth me restore
Thys restles lyff I may nott lede.
In hete and cold betwyxt hope and drede,
That but her helpe to helth doth me restore
Thys restles lyff I may nott lede.
| Collected poems of Sir Thomas Wyatt | |