Why should such spite be nursed then by thought?
Sith all these powers are prest under thy wings;
And eke thou seest, and reason thee hath taught,
What mischief malice many ways it brings:
Consider eke, that spite availeth nought.
Therefore this song thy fault to thee it sings:
Displease thee not, for saying thus my thought,
Nor hate thou him from whom no hate forth springs:
For furies that in hell be execrable,
For that they hate, are made most miserable.
HOW UNPOSSIBLE IT IS TO FIND QUIET IN
LOVE.
EVER my hap is slack and slow in coming,
Desire increasing, ay my hope uncertain
With doubtful love, that but increaseth pain;
For, tiger like, so swift it is in parting.
Alas! the snow black shall it be and scalding,
The sea waterless, and fish upon the mountain,
The Thames shall back return into his fountain,
And where he rose the sun shall take lodging,
Ere I in this find peace or quietness;
Or that Love, or my Lady, right-wisely,
Leave to conspire against me wrongfully.
And if I have after such bitterness,
One drop of sweet, my mouth is out of taste,
That all my trust and travail is but waste.
OF LOVE, FORTUNE, AND THE LOVER'S MIND.
LOVE, Fortune, and my mind which do remember
Eke that is now, and that, that once hath ben,
Torment my heart so sore, that very often
I hate and envy them beyond all measure.
Love slayeth mine heart, while Fortune is depriver
Of all my comfort; the foolish mind then
Burneth and plaineth, as one that very seldome
Liveth in rest. So still in displeasure
My pleasant days they fleet and pass;
And daily doth mine ill change to the worse:
While more than half is run now of my course.
Alas, not of steel, but of brittle glass,
I see that from my hand falleth my trust,
And all my thoughts are dashed into dust.
THE LOVER PRAYETH HIS OFFERED HEART TO BE RECEIVED.
How oft have I, my dear and cruel foe,
With my great pain to get some peace or truce,
Given you my heart; but you do not use
In so high things, to cast your mind so low.
If any other look for it, as you trow,
Their vain weak hope doth greatly them abuse:
And that thus I disdain, that you refuse;
It was once mine, it can no more be so.
it chafe, that it in you can find,
In this exile, no manner of comfort,
Nor live alone, nor where he is called resort;
may wander from his natural kind.
So shall it be great hurt unto us twain,
And yours the loss, and mine the deadly pain.
THE LOVER'S LIFE COMPARED TO THE ALPS
LIKE unto these unmeasurable mountains
So is my painful life, the burden of ire;
For high be they, and high is my desire;
And I of tears, and they be full of fountains:
Under craggy rocks they have barren plains;
Hard thoughts in me my woful mind doth tire:
Small fruit and many leaves their tops do attire,
With small effect great trust in me remains:
The boisterous winds oft their high boughs do blast;
Hot sighs in me continually be shed:
Wild beasts in them, fierce love in me is fed;
Unmovable am I, and they steadfast.
Of singing birds they have the tune and note;
And I always plaints passing through my throat.
CHARGING OF HIS LOVE AS UNPITEOUS AND LOVING OTHER.
Ir amorous faith, or if a heart unfeigned,
A sweet langour, a great lovely desire,
If honest will kindled in gentle fire,
If long error in a blind maze chained,
If in my visage each thought distained,
Or if my sparkling voice, lower, or higher,
Which fear and shame so wofully doth tire;
If pale colour, which love, alas, hath stained,
If to have another than myself more dear,
If wailing or sighing continually,
With sorrowful anger feeding busily,
If burning far off, and if freezing near,
Are cause that I by love myself destroy,
Yours is the fault, and mine the great annoy.
THE LOVER FORSAKETH HIS UNKIND LOVE.
My heart I gave thee, not to do it pain,
But to preserve, lo, it to thee was taken.
I served thee, not that I should be forsaken;
But, that I should receive reward again,
I was content thy servant to remain ;
And not to be repayed on this fashion.
Now, since in thee there is none other reason,
Displease thee not, if that I do refrain.
Unsatiate of my woe, and thy desire;
Assured by craft for to excuse thy fault:
But, since it pleaseth thee to feign default,
Farewell, I say, departing from the fire.
For he that doth believe, bearing in hand,
Plougheth in the water, and soweth in the sand.
THE LOVER DESCRIBETH HIS RESTLESS
STATE.
THE flaming sighs that boil within my breast,
Sometime break forth, and they can well declare
The heart's unrest, and how that it doth fare,
The pain thereof, the grief, and all the rest.
The water'd eyen from whence the tears do fall,
Do feel some force, or else they would be dry;
The wasted flesh of colour dead can try,
And sometime tell what sweetness is in gall:
And he that lust to see, and to discern
How care can force within a wearied mind,
Come he to me, I am that place assign'd:
But for all this, no force, it doth no harm;
The wound, alas, hap in some other place,
From whence no tool away the scar can raze.
But you, that of such like have had your part,
Can best be judge. Wherefore, my friend so dear,
I thought it good my state should now appear
To you, and that there is no great desert.
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