The Sixth Decade. Sonnet IX. Love have I followed all too long, nought gaining

Henry Constable (1562–1613)

LOVE have I followed all too long, nought gaining;

And sighed I have in vain to sweet what smarteth,

But from his bow a fiery arrow parteth;

Thinking that I should him resist, not plaining.

But cowardly my heart submiss remaining,

Yields to receive what shaft thy fair eye darteth!

Well do I see, thine eye my bale imparteth;

And that save death, no hope I am detaining.

For what is he can alter fortune’s sliding?

One in his bed consumes his life away,

Other in wars, another in the sea:

The like effects in me have their abiding;

For heavens avowed my fortune should be such,

That I should die by loving far too much.