Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
FidessaSonnet XXX. Weep now no more, mine eyes; but be you drowned
Bartholomew Griffin (d. 1602)W
In your own tears, so many years distilled!
And let her know, that at them long hath frowned,
That you can weep no more, although She willed,
This hap, her cruelty hath her allotten,
Who whilom was Commandress of each part;
That, now, her proper griefs must be forgotten,
By those true outward signs of inward smart.
For how can he, that hath not one tear left him,
Stream out those floods that’re due unto her moaning;
When, both of eyes and tears She hath bereft him?
O yet I’ll signify my grief with groaning!
True sighs, true groans shall echo in the air
And say, “F