| |
| ALL beauty’s far perfections rest in thee! | |
| And sweetest grace of graces | |
| Decks thy face, ’bove faces! | |
| All virtue takes her glory from thy mind! | |
| The Muses in thy wits have their places! | 5 |
| And in thy thoughts all mercies be! | |
| Thine heart from all hardness free! | |
| An holy place in thy thoughts, holiness doth find! | |
| In favourable speech, kind! | |
| A sacred tongue and eloquent! | 10 |
| Action sweet and excellent! | |
| Music itself, in joints of her fair fingers is! | |
| She, Chantress of singers is! | |
| Her plighted faith is firm and permanent! | |
| O now! now, help! Wilt thou take some compassion? | 15 |
| She thinks I flatter, writing on this fashion! | |
| |
| Thy beauty past, with misorder stainèd is! | |
| In thee, no graces find rest! | |
| In thee, who sought it, saw least! | |
| And all thy thoughts be vain and vicious! | 20 |
| Thy brains with dulness are oppresst! | |
| Of thee, no mercy gainèd is! | |
| Thine heart, hard and feignèd is! | |
| A mind profane, and of the worst suspicious! | |
| In speech not delicious! | 25 |
| A tongue tied, which cannot utter! | |
| Gesture lame, like words which stutter! | |
| Thy hands and mind, unapt in music to rejoice! | |
| For songs unfit, an hoarse voice! | |
| Thy faith unconstant, whatsoe’er thou mutter! | 30 |
| Be gracious! No! She thinks my words be bitter! | |
| Through my misfortunes, they for myself be fitter! | |
| |
| O how long! how long shall I be distresst! | |
| How long in vain shall I moan! | |
| How long in pain shall I groan! | 35 |
| How long shall I bathe in continual tears! | |
| How long shall I sit sad, and sigh alone! | |
| How long shall fear discomfort give! | |
| How long shall hopes let me live! | |
| How long shall I lie bound in despairs and fears! | 40 |
| With sorrow still my heart wears! | |
| My sundry fancies subdue me! | |
| Thine eyes kill me, when they view me! | |
| When thou speaks with my soul; thy voice music maketh, | |
| And souls from silence waketh! | 45 |
| Thy brow’s smiles quicken me; whose frowns slew me! | |
| Then fair Sweet! behold! See me, poor wretch! in torment! | |
| Thou perceivest well! but thine heart will not relent. | |
| |
| Mine Eyes and Sleep be fierce professèd foes! | |
| Much care and tears did make it: | 50 |
| Nor yet will they forsake it; | |
| But they will vex my brains, and troubled eyes! | |
| If any sorrow sleep, they will wake it! | |
| Still, sighing mine heart overthrows! | |
| Yet art Thou cause of these woes! | 55 |
| But what avails! if I make to the deaf, such horrible outcries? | |
| She hears not my miseries! | |
| O Sorrow! Sorrow, cease a while! | |
| Let her but look on me and smile! | |
| And from me, for a time, thou shalt be banished! | 60 |
| My comforts are vanished! | |
| Nor hope, nor time, my sorrows can beguile! | |
| Yet cease I not to cry for mercy! vexèd thus; | |
| But thou wilt not relieve us, which perplexèd us! | |
| |
| Ah, would Thou set some limits to my woes! | 65 |
| That, after such a time set | |
| (As penance to some crime set), | |
| Forbearance, through sweet hope, I might endure! | |
| But as bird (caught in the fowler’s lime set) | |
| No means for his liberty knows; | 70 |
| Me such despair overgoes, | |
| That I can find no comfortable hope of cure! | |
| Then since nothing can procure | |
| My sweet comfort, by thy kindness; | |
| (Armed in peace, to bear this blindness) | 75 |
| I voluntarily submit to this sorrow, | |
| As erst, each even and morrow. | |
| Can women’s hearts harbour such unkindness? | |
| O, relent! Relent, and change thy behaviour! | |
| Foul is the name of Tyrant; sweet, of Saviour! | 80 |
| |
| Long to the rocks, have I made my complaints! | |
| And to the woods desolate, | |
| My plaints went early and late! | |
| To the forsaken mountains and rivers! | |
| Yet comfortless, and still disconsolate; | 85 |
| Mine heart, as it was wonted, faints! | |
| Such small help comes from such Saints! | |
| Why should men which in such pain live, be called, Livers? | |
| Such arrows bear love’s quivers. | |
| Now, since rocks and woods will not hear; | 90 |
| Nor hills and floods, my sorrows bear: | |
| In sounding echoes and swift waves, the world about, | |
| These papers report it out! | |
| Whose lasting Chronicles shall Time outwear! | |
| Then, take remorse, dear Love! and to these, united | 95 |
| Shall be thy mercies! with matchless prayers recited. | |
| |
| You hapless winds! with my sighs infected | |
| Whose fumes, you never let rise | |
| To please her with sacrifice! | |
| But evermore, in gross clouds them choked; | 100 |
| So that my Dear could never them comprise! | |
| O you (that never detected | |
| My plaints, but them neglected! | |
| Which in your murmurs brought, might have her provoked! | |
| When them in clouds you cloaked!) | 105 |
| Know that a prouder spirit flies, | |
| Bearing them to posterities! | |
| And lays them open wide, that the world may view them; | |
| That all which read, may rue them; | |
| When they shall pierce thine ears, though not thine eyes! | 110 |
| Then, sweet Fair! pity my long service and duty! | |
| Lest thine hard heart be more famous than thy beauty! | |
| Then do no longer despise, | |
| But, with kind pity, relent thee! | |
| Cease to vex and torment me! | 115 |
| If Shame’s fear move not (which all discovers), | |
| Fear plague of remorseless lovers! | |
| |
