THE LOUER FORSAKETH HIS VNKINDE LOUE.

My hart I gaue thee, not to doe it pain,
But to preserue, lo, it to thee was taken,
I serued thee, not that I should be forsaken,
But that I should receiue reward againe,
I was content, thy seruant to remaine;
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.
Unsaciat of my wo and thy desire;
Assured by craft for to excuse thy fault:
But sins it pleaseth thee to fain default,
Farewell I say, departing from the fire.

For he that doth beleue, bearing in hand,
Ploweth in the water, and soweth in the sand.

THE LOUER DESCRIBETH HIS RESTLESSE STATE.

THE flaming sighes that boyle within my breast,
Sometime break forth, and they can well declare
The hartes vnrest, and how that it doth fare,
The paine therof, the griefe, and all the rest.
The waterred eyen from whence the teares do fall,
Do feel some force or elce they would be dry,
The wasted flesh of colour ded can try,
And somtime tell what swetness is in gall.
And he that lust to see, and to discearne,
How care can force within a wearied mind,
Come he to me, I am that place assinde;
But for all this, no force, it doth no harme,
The wounde, alas, happe in some other place,
From whence noe toole away the skarre can race.

E

But you that of such like have had your part,
Can best be iudge. Wherefore my friend so dere,
I thought it good my state should now appere
To you, and that there is no great desart.
And wheras you in weighty matters great,
of fortune saw the shadow that you know,
For trifling thinges I now am stricken so,
That though I fele my hart doth wound and beat,
I sit alone, saue on the second day

My feuer comes, with whome I spend my time
In burning heat while that she list assigne.
And who hath helth and libertie alwaie,

Let him thank God, and let him not prouoke,
To haue the like of this my painfull stroke.

THE LOUER LAMENTES THE DEATH OF HIS LOUE.

THE pillar perisht is wherto I lent,

The strongest stay of mine vnquiet minde;
The like of it no man again can finde,

From east to west still seking though he went,
To mine vnhappe. For happe away hath rent
Of all my ioy the very bark and rinde,
And I (alas!) by chance am thus assinde,
Dayly to moorne till death do it relent.
But sins that thus it is by desteny,

What can I more but haue a wofull hart;
My penne in plaint, my voyce in carefull crye,
My mynde in wo, my body full of smart,

And I my self, my self alwaies to hate,

Tyll dreadfull death doe ease my dolefull state.

THE LOUER SENDETH SIGHES TO MOUE HIS SUTE.

Go burning sighes unto the frosen hart,
Goe break the yse which pities painfull dart
Might never perce, and if that mortall praier
In heauen be heard, at lest yet I desire
That death, or mercy, end my wofull smart:
Take with thee pain, whereof I haue my part,
And eke the flame from which I cannot start.
And leaue me then in rest, I you require.
Goe burning sighes fulfill that I desire,
I must go worke, I see, by craft and art,
For truth and faith in her is laid apart :
Alas I cannot therefore now assaile her,
With pitifull complaint and scalding fier,
That from my brest deceiuably doth start.

COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HIS LOUE.

So feeble is the thred that doth the burden stay, Of my poor life, in heauy plight that falleth in de

cay,

That but it haue elswhere some ayde or some succours,

The running spindle of my fate anon shall end his

course.

For since thunhappy houre that byd me to depart, From my swete weale, one only hope hath stayed my life apart,

Which doth perswade such words vnto my sored minde,

Maintaine thy selfe, O wofull wight, some better luck to finde:

For though thou be depriued from thy desired

sight,

Who can thee tell, if thy returne be for thy more

delight?

Or who can tell, thy loss if thou mayst once re

couer,

Some pleasant hower thy wo may wrap, and thee defend and couer.

Thus in this trust, as yet it hath my life sustained, But now (alas) I see it faint, and I by trust am trained.

The tyme doth flete, and I see how the howers do bend,

So fast, that I haue scant the space to marke my comming end.

Westward the Sunne from out the east scant shews

his light,

When in the west he hies him strayghte within the dark of night;

And comes as fast, where he began his path awry, From east to west, from west to east, so doth his iourney lye.

The lyfe so short, so frayle, that mortall men liue

here;

Soe great a weight, so heauy charge the bodyes that we bere;

That when I think vpon the distaunce and the

space,

That doth so farre deuide me from my dere desired

face,

I know not how t'attaine the winges that I require, To lyft me up, that I might fly, to follow my de

syrė.

Thus of that hope that doth my life something sustaine,

Alas I feare, and partly fele, full little doth remaine. Eche place doth bring me grief, where I doe not behold

Those liuely eyes, which of my thoughts, were wont the keys to hold.

Those thoughtes wer pleasant swete whilst I enioyd that grace,

My pleasure past, my present pain, when I might well embrace.

And for because my want should more my woe en

crease,

In watch and slepe both day and night, my will doth neuer cease,

That thing to wishe wherof syns I did lose the sight, Was neuer thing that mought in ought my wofull hart delight.

Thuneasy life I leade, doth teach me for to mete, The floodes, the seas, the land, the hilles, that doth them entermete,

Twene me and those shene lights that wonted for

to clere,

My darked pangs of cloudy thoughts, as bright as Phebus sphere

It teacheth me also, what was my pleasant state, The more to fele by such record how that my welth doth bate.

If such record (alas) prouoke thenflamed minde, Which sprong that day that I did leaue the best of me behind.

If loue forget himselfe by length of absence let, Who doth me guide (O wofull wretch) vnto this baited net,