| Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904. | | | | Chloris | | Sonnet XXXVI. What a wound, and what a deadly stroke | | William Smith (fl. 1596) |
| | | WHAT a wound, and what a deadly stroke, | |
| Doth CUPID give to us, perplexed lovers! | |
| Which cleaves, more fast than ivy doth to oak, | |
| Unto our hearts where he his might discovers. | |
| Though warlike MARS were armèd at all points | 5 |
| With that tried coat which fiery VULCAN made; | |
| LOVE’s shafts did penetrate his steelèd joints, | |
| And in his breast in streaming gore did wade. | |
| So pitiless is this fell conqueror, | |
| That in his Mother’s paps his arrows stuck! | 10 |
| Such is his rage! that he doth not defer | |
| To wound those orbs, from whence he life did suck. | |
| Then sith no mercy he shews to his mother; | |
| We meekly must his force and rigour smother. | | | | |
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