 | "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" |  |
What sweet releef
A trueloue.
What sweet releef the showers to thirstie plants we see:What dere delite, the blooms to beez: my trueloue is to mee.
As fresh, and lusty vere foule winter doth exceed:
As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth passe the euenings weed:
As melow peares aboue the crabs esteemed be:
So doth my loue surmount them all, whom yet I hap to se.
The oke shall oliues bear: the lamb, the lion fray:
The owle shall match the nightingale, in tuning of her lay:
Or I my loue let slip out of mine entiere hert:
So deep reposed in my brest is she, for her desert.
For many blessed giftes, O happy, happy land:
Where Mars, and Pallas striue to make their glory most to stand
Yet, land, more is thy blisse: that, in this cruell age,
A Venus ymp, thou hast brought forth, so stedfast, and so sage.
Among the Muses nyne, a tenth yf Ioue would make:
And to the Graces three, a fourth: her would Apollo take.
Let some for honour hoont, and hourd the massy golde:
With her so I may liue, and dye, my weal cannot be tolde.
| "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" | |