An English Garner (4 of 8) by Various
Come, my Muse! If thou disdain!
All my comforts are bereft me!
No delight doth now remain;
I, nor friend, nor flock have left me.
They are scattered on the plain.
Men, alas, are too severe,
And make scoffs at lovers' fortunes.
Women, hearted like the bear;
That regards not who importunes,
But doth all in pieces tear.
If I should my sorrows shew
Unto rivers, springs, or fountains;
They are senseless to my woe:
So are groves, and rocks, and mountains.
Then, O, whither shall I go?
Means of harbour, me to shield
From despair; ah, know you any?
For no city, grange, nor field,
Though they lend content to many,
Unto me, can comfort yield.
I have kept, and sighèd too,
For Compassion to make trial;
Yea, done all that words can do,
Yet have nothing but denial.
What way is there, then, to woo?
Shall I swear, protest, and vow?
So have I done, most extremely!
Should I die? I know not how!
For from all attempts unseemly,
Love and Virtue keep me now.
I have heard that Time prevails;
But I fear me, 'tis a fable.
Time, and all Endeavour fails!
To bear more, my heart's unable;
Yet none careth what it ails!
Lines to some, have op'ed the door
And got entrance for Affection.
Words well spoken, much implore,
By the Gestures' good direction:
But a Look doth ten times more!
'Tis the Eye that only reads
To the heart, Love's deepest Lectures!
By a moving Look, it pleads
More than common Sense conjectures,
And a way to Pity leads.
This I knowing, did observe;
Both by Words and Looks complaining:
Yet, for Pity I may starve!
There's no hope of my obtaining,
Till I better can deserve.
Yea, and he that thinks to win
By Desert, may be deceivèd!
For they who have worthiest bin,
Of their right, have been bereavèd;
And a groom admitted in.
Wherefore, Muse! to thee I call!
Thou, since nothing else avails me,
Must redeem me from my thrall!
If thy sweet enchantment fails me;
Then, adieu Love, Life, and all!
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