XVIII.
[Arise my thoughts & moūt you with ye sunne]
[1]
Arise my thoughts & moūt you with ye sunne,
Call all the windes, to make you speedy winges,
And to my fayrest Maya see you runne
And weepe your last, while wantonly shee singes
Then if you cannot moue, her hart to pittie,
Lot oh alas ayh me be all your dittie.
2
Arise my thoughts no more if you returne,
Denied of grace, which onely you desire,
But let the Sunne your winges to ashes burne,
And meete your passions in his quenchles fire,
Yet if you moue faire Mayes heart to pittie,
Let smiles, and loue, and kisses, be your dittie.
3
Arise my thoughts beyond the highest star,
And gently rest you in faire Mayes eye,
For that is fairer then the brightest ar,
But if she frowne to see you climbe so hye,
Couch in her lap, and with a mouing dittie,
Of smiles, and loue, and kisses, beg for pittie.
