Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
FidessaSonnet XIX. My pain paints out my love in doleful Verse
Bartholomew Griffin (d. 1602)M
(The lively Glass wherein she may behold it!)
My Verse her wrong to me doth still rehearse,
But so, as it lamenteth to unfold it.
Myself with ceaseless tears my harms bewail,
And her obdurate heart not to be moved.
Though long-continued woes my senses fail,
And curse the day, the hour when first I loved.
She takes the Glass, wherein herself She sees,
In bloody colours cruelly depainted;
And her poor prisoner humbly on his knees,
Pleading for grace, with heart that never fainted:
She breaks the Glass! alas, I cannot choose!
But grieve that I should so, my labour lose.