 | Amoretti and Epithalamion |  |
LXV.
The doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre love, is vaine,
That fondly feare to loose your liberty;
When, loosing one, two liberties ye gayne,
And make him bond that bondage earst dyd fly.
Sweet be the bands, the which true love doth tye
Without constraynt, or dread of any ill:
The gentle birde feeles no captivity
Within her cage; but singes, and feeds her fill.
There pride dare not approch, nor discord spill
The league twixt them, that loyal love hath bound:
But simple truth, and mutuall good-will,
Seekes with sweet peace, to salve each others wound:
There Fayth doth fearlesse dwell in brasen towre.
And spotlesse Pleasure builds her sacred bowre.
That fondly feare to loose your liberty;
When, loosing one, two liberties ye gayne,
And make him bond that bondage earst dyd fly.
Sweet be the bands, the which true love doth tye
Without constraynt, or dread of any ill:
The gentle birde feeles no captivity
Within her cage; but singes, and feeds her fill.
There pride dare not approch, nor discord spill
The league twixt them, that loyal love hath bound:
But simple truth, and mutuall good-will,
Seekes with sweet peace, to salve each others wound:
There Fayth doth fearlesse dwell in brasen towre.
And spotlesse Pleasure builds her sacred bowre.
| Amoretti and Epithalamion | |