May
A bilet of ?
Phimp, duke of
1912,"
injorie, moist all dus rev: nce,
5. Je tu to turo. Frett, ance coanofs at Marlesfield. By From his "Burks," 1775 339
ཎྞཾ་
12 Suz
5. the fals
From the
THE LOVER COMPLAINETH OF THE UN
KINDNESS OF HIS LOVE.
My lute, awake; perform the last
Labour that thou and I fhall waft,
And ende that I have now begunne;
And when this fong is fong and past,
My lute, be ftyll; for I have done.
Born 1503; dyed 1541.— To diftinguish him from another of the name, he is usually called Sir Thomas Wyats the elder.
As to be heard where eare is none,
As leade to grave in marble stone,
My fong may pearce her hart as foon;
Should we then figh, or fing, or mone?
No, no, my lute, for I have done.
The rocks do not fo cruelly
Repulfe the waves continually,
As fhe my fuite and affection;
So that I am past remedy,
Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proude of the fpoyle that thou haft gotte
Of fimple hearts, through lovés shot,
By whome, unkind, thou haft them wonne;
Think not he hath his bow forgott,
Although my lute and I have done.
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May chance' thee lye withred and old,
In winter nights that are fo cold,
Playning in vaine unto the moon ;
Thy wishes then dare not be told,
Care then who lift, for I have doone.
Vengeance shall fall on thy difdaine,
That makeft but game on earnest payne;.
Think not alone under the funn
Unquit to caufe thy lovers playne,
Although my lute and I have done. 25
And then may chaunce thee to repent
The time that thou haft loft and spent,
To cause thy lovers fighe and fwone;
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want as I have done.
Now cease, my lute; this is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waft,
And ended is that we begonne; Now is this fong both fong and past : My lute, be ftill; for I have done.
PRISONER IN WINDSOR, HE RECOUNTETH
HIS PLEASURE THERE PASSED.
BY HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY.
So cruell prifon howe could betyde, alas!
As proude Windfor; where I, in luft and joy,
Wythe a Kynges fonne, my chyldysh yeres dyd passe,
In greater feaft than Priams fonnes of Troye;
Where eche fwete place returnes a taftfull sower: 5
The large grene court where we were wont to 'hove,'
Wyth eyes caft up into the maydens tower,
And eafy fighes, fuch as folkes draw in love;
The stately feates, the ladies brighte of hewe;
The daunces short, long tales of greate delight, 10
Wyth woordes and lookes, that tygers could but rewe,
Where eche of us dyd please the others ryghte;
The palme play, where defpoyled for the game,
With dared eyes oft we by gleames of love,
Have myst the ball, and gote fighte of our dame, 15
To bayte her eyes, whyche kept the leads above;
The gravel ground, wythe fleves tyde on the helme
On fomyng horse, with swordes and friendly hartes ;
Wythe chere as though one should another whelme,
Where we have fought, and chafed oft with dartes; 20
* Born 15..; beheaded 1546.
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