 | Songes and Sonettes |  |
A comfort to the complaynt of Thestilis.
If nedes thy loue will thee forsake, thy mourning is in vaine.
For none can force the streames against their course to ronne,
Nor yet vnwillyng loue with teares or wailyng can be wonne.
Cease thou therfore thy plaintes, let hope thy sorowes ease,
The shipmen though their sailes be rent yet hope to scape the seas
Though straunge she seme a while, yet thinke she will not chaūge
Good causes driue a ladies loue, sometime to seme full straunge.
No louer that hath wit, but can forsee such happe,
That no wight can at wish or will slepe in his ladies lappe.
Achilles for a time fayre Brises did forgo,
Yet did they mete with ioye againe, then thinke thou maist do so.
Though he and louers al in loue sharpe stormes do finde,
Dispaire not thou pore Thestilis though thy loue seme vnkinde.
Ah thinke her graffed loue can not so sone decay,
Hie springes may cease from swellyng styll, but neuer dry away
Oft stormes of louers yre, do more their loue encrease:
As shinyng sunne refreshe the frutes whē rainyng gins to cease.
When springes are waxen lowe, then must they flow againe,
So shall thy hart aduaunced be, to pleasure out of paine,
When lacke of thy delight most bitter griefe apperes,
Thinke on Etrascus worthy loue that lasted thirty yeres,
Which could not long atcheue his hartes desired choyse,
Yet at the ende he founde rewarde that made him to reioyce.
Since he so long in hope with pacience did remaine,
Can not thy feruent loue forbeare thy loue a moneth or twaine.
Admit she minde to chaunge and nedes will thee forgo,
Is there no mo may thee delight but she that paynes thee so?
Thestilis draw to the towne and loue as thou hast done,
In time thou knowest by faythfull loue as good as she is wonne.
And leaue the desert woodes and waylyng thus alone,
And seke to salue thy sore els where, if all her loue be gonne.
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