 | Saint Peters complaint (1595) |  |
66
From Fortunes reach.
Let fickle fortune runne her blindest rase:
I setled haue an vnremoued mind:
I scorne to be the game of fansies chase,
Or vane to shew the chaunge of euery wind,
Light giddy humors stinted to no rest,
Still chaunge their choyce, yet neuer chose the best.
I setled haue an vnremoued mind:
I scorne to be the game of fansies chase,
Or vane to shew the chaunge of euery wind,
Light giddy humors stinted to no rest,
Still chaunge their choyce, yet neuer chose the best.
My choyse was guided by fore-sightfull heede,
It was auerred with approuing will,
It shalbe followed with performing deede:
And seal'd with vow, till death the chooser kill,
Yea death though finall date of vaine desires,
Endes not my choyse, which with no time expires.
It was auerred with approuing will,
It shalbe followed with performing deede:
And seal'd with vow, till death the chooser kill,
Yea death though finall date of vaine desires,
Endes not my choyse, which with no time expires.
To beauties fading blisse I am no thrall:
I bury not my thoughts in mettall Mynes,
I aime not at such fame, as feareth fall,
I seeke and find a light that euer shynes:
VVhose glorious beames display such heauenly sights,
As yeeld my soule a summe of all delights.
I bury not my thoughts in mettall Mynes,
I aime not at such fame, as feareth fall,
I seeke and find a light that euer shynes:
VVhose glorious beames display such heauenly sights,
As yeeld my soule a summe of all delights.
My light to loue, my loue to lyfe doth guyde
To life that liues by loue, and loueth light:
By loue to one, to whom all loues are tyde
By dewest debt, and neuer equall right.
Eyes light, harts loue, soules truest life he is,
Consorting in three ioyes, one perfect blisse.
To life that liues by loue, and loueth light:
By loue to one, to whom all loues are tyde
By dewest debt, and neuer equall right.
Eyes light, harts loue, soules truest life he is,
Consorting in three ioyes, one perfect blisse.
FINIS.
| Saint Peters complaint (1595) | |