HE COMPARES HIS SUFFERINGS TO THOSE OF TANTALUS.
THE fruit of all the service that I serve
Despair doth reap; such hapless hap have I.
But though he have no power to make me swerve,
Yet by the fire for cold I feel I die.
In paradise for hunger still I sterve,
And in the flood for thirst to death I dry;
So Tantalus am I, and in worse pain,
Amidst my help that helpless doth remain.
THAT NOTHING MAY ASSUAGE HIS PAIN
SAVE ONLY HIS LADY'S FAVOUR.
1 IF with complaint the pain might be express'd
That inwardly doth cause me sigh and groan;
Your hard heart, and your cruel breast
Should sigh and plain for my unrest;
And though it were of stone,
Yet should remorse cause it relent and moan.
2 But since it is so far out of measure,
That with my words I can it not contain,
My only trust! my heart's treasure!
Alas! why do I still endure
This restless smart and pain?
Since if ye list ye may my woe restrain.
THAT HIS LONG SUFFERINGS MAY AT LENGTH FIND
1 YE know my heart, my Lady dear!
That since the time I was your thrall
I have been yours both whole and clear,
Though my reward hath been but small;
So am I yet, and more than all.
ye know well how I have served,
As if ye prove it shall appear,
How well, how long,
How faithfully!
And suffered wrong,
How patiently!
Then since that I have never swerved,
Let not my pains be undeserved.
2 Ye know also, though ye say nay,
That you alone are my desire;
And you alone it is that may
Assuage my fervent flaming fire.
Succour me then, I you require!
Ye know it were a just request,
Since ye do cause my heat, I say,
If that I burn,
It will ye warm,
And not to turn,
All to my harm,
Lending such flame from frozen breast
Against nature for my unrest.
3 And I know well how scornfully
Ye have mista❜en my true intent;
And hitherto how wrongfully,
I have found cause for to repent.
But if your heart doth not relent,
Since I do know that this ye know,
Ye shall slay me all wilfully.
For me, and mine,
And all I have,
Ye may assign,
To spill or save.
Why are ye then so cruel foe
Unto your own, that loves you so?
HE DESCRIBETH THE CEASELESS TORMENTS
OF LOVE.
1 SINCE you will needs that I shall sing,
Take it in worth' such as I have;
Plenty of plaint, moan, and mourning,
In deep despair and deadly pain.
Bootless for boot, crying to crave;
To crave in vain.
2 Such hammers work within my head
That sound nought else unto my ears,
But fast at board, and wake a-bed:
Such tune the temper to my song
To wail my wrong, that I want tears
To wail my wrong.
3 Death and despair afore my face,
My days decay, my grief doth grow;
The cause thereof is in this place,
1'In worth:' patiently.
Whom cruelty doth still constrain
For to rejoice, though I be woe,
To hear me plain.
4 A broken lute, untuned strings,
With such a song may well bear part,
That neither pleaseth him that sings,
Nor them that hear, but her alone
That with her heart would strain my heart
To hear it
5 If it grieve you to hear this same,
That you do feel but in my voice,
Consider then what pleasant game
I do sustain in every part,
To cause me sing or to rejoice
Within my heart.
THAT THE SEASON OF ENJOYMENT IS SHORT,
AND SHOULD NOT PASS BY NEGLECTED.
3 ME list no more to sing
Of love, nor of such thing,
How sore that it me wring;
For what I sung or spake,
Men did my songs mistake.
2 My songs were too diffuse;
They made folk to muse;
Therefore me to excuse,
They shall be sung more plain,
Neither of joy nor pain.
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