Sonnet XV. No sooner leaves Hyperion, Thetis’ bed

Richard Linche (fl. 1596–1601)

NO sooner leaves HYPERION, THETIS’ bed,

and mounts his coach to post from thence away;

Richly adorning fair LEUCOTHEA’s head,

giving to mountains, tincture from his ray:

But straight I rise, where I could find no rest,

where visions and fantasies appear;

And when, with small ado, my body ’s dresst,

abroad I walk, to think upon my Dear!

Where, under umbrage of some agèd tree,

with lute in hand I sit and, sighing, say,

“Sweet groves, tell forth with echo, what you see!

good trees, bear witness, who is my decay!

And thou, my soul, speak! speak what rest I have,

When each our joy’s despair doth make me rave!”