Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Parthenophil and ParthenopheElegy II. O that, some time, thou saw mine endless fits
Barnabe Barnes (1569?1609)O
When I have somewhat of thy beauty pondered!
Thou could not be persuaded that my wits
Could once retire so far from Sense asundered!
Furies, themselves, have at my Passions wondered!
Yet thou, P
Whilst in me, so thy moisture’s heat hath thundered,
And thine eyes’ darts, at every Colon, hits
My soul with double pricks, which mine heart splits:
Whose fainting breath, with sighing Commas broken,
Draws on the sentence of my death, by pauses;
Ever prolonging out mine endless clauses
With “Ifs” Parenthesis, yet find no token
When with my grief, I should stand even or odd.
My life still making preparations,
Through thy love’s darts, to bear the Period;
Yet stumbleth on Interrogations!
These are those scholar-like vexations
Which grieve me, when those studies I apply.
I miss my lesson still! but, with love’s rod,
For each small accent sounded but awry,
Am I tormented! Yet, I cannot die!