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Home  »  Elizabethan Sonnets  »  Sonnet XVII. Sweet stroke! (so might I thrive as I must praise)

Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.

Fidessa

Sonnet XVII. Sweet stroke! (so might I thrive as I must praise)

Bartholomew Griffin (d. 1602)

SWEET stroke! (so might I thrive as I must praise)

But sweeter hand that gives so sweet a stroke!

The Lute itself is sweetest when she plays.

But what hear I? A string, through fear, is broke!

The Lute doth shake as if it were afraid.

O, sure, some goddess holds it in her hand!

A Heavenly Power that oft hath me dismayed,

Yet such a power as doth in beauty stand!

Cease Lute! my ceaseless suit will ne’er be heard!

(Ah, too hard-hearted She that will not hear it!)

If I but think on joy, my joy is marred!

My grief is great, yet ever must I bear it!

But love twixt us, will prove a faithful page;

And she will love my sorrows to assuage!