Classic Poem

The rejected lover, with earnest desire, pursues the sight of his disdainfull mystresse.

The dampe of dole hath chooked my delight,
Sharpe frumpes, as frostes, doth nip my silly joy,
My glymering grace is darkned with despight,
Yea, sullen thoughtes my sovereigne so accoy.
As mistes of scorne still falleth on my faith,
My cleare conceiptes are clowded oore with care,
And yet my heart, aye me! no power hath
To shunne the storme that sheweth all this scare.
O straunge effectes of blinde affected love,
To haunt the yll whereby our mischiefes move!

Much like the flye that buzzeth by the flame,
And makes a sport to see the candle light,
Till she, unwares, be sindged in the same,
And so with death doth buy her fond delight.
Or as the mouse, that frisketh by the trap,
At length is mov'd to medle with the bayt,
Which weaves (God wot) the web of her mishap;
The bridge doth fal, and she is baind with weight:
Such sweete conceits inticing sorrowes breede,
To sterve with woe when joy makes fare to feede.

With which effectes I finde my fancies witcht,
I feele the flame, yet can not shun the fire.
Th' inticing trap I see on treason pitcht,
And yet the bayte to byte I have desire;
But (O yll hap!) to worke my harmes increase
Both mischiefes want the forerecyted force;
I finde no death my sorrowes to appease,
And so my state then other misers worse:
But sure my fault, or fate, ordaines it so,
And therfore I do take in worth this woe.