Classic Poem

Death is my doom, awarded by Disdain,
A ling'ring death that will not let me die:
This length of life is length'ning of my pain,
And length of pain gets strength of pain thereby:
And strength of pain makes pain of longer last;
Ah, who hath tied my life to pain so fast?

And yet I seem as if I did but feign,
Or make my grief much greater than I need,
Whenas the care to hide my burning pain,
With secret sighs, constrains my heart to bleed:
Yet well I wot, believed I shall not be,
Until by death a proof thereof you see.

But if this lodge, the witness of my woe,
Whose stony walls unheard my plaints contain,
Had sense to feel, and tongue my plaint to show,
Which, he [re] enclosed, I utter all in vain,
You soon should know that most I make my moan,
Alone, if he that loves can be alone.

Why should I seek to make my shame be known,
That foolish Love is causer of my pain?
Forgive me, Love, the speech is not mine own,
But so they speak that thee and thine disdain:
And I myself confess my skill too small,
To plead for love, and clear myself withal.

What reason can my simple wit devise,
Why bootless grief should thus afflict my mind?
I love the thoughts that love itself despise,
I seek for that I never look to find.
Oft have I heard, for which I think I die,
Thine angry tongue all kind of love defy.

Yet is my life upon thy promise stayed,
By which thou hast assured me of thy love;
And though thereby my heat be not allayed,
No stay of flight, where gain is still above.
Yet since thy heart can yield to love no more,
I rest content, although I die therefore.

QUIS DEUS OPPOSUIT NOSTRIS SUA NUMINA VOTIS ?