Classic Poem

Reason, that long in prison of my will
Hast wept thy mistress wants and loss of time,
Thy wonted siege of honour safely climb;
To thee I yield as guilty of mine mill.

Lo, fetter'd in their tears, mine eyes are press'd
To pay due homage to their native guide;
My wretched heart wounded with bad betide
To crave his peace from reason is address'd.

My thoughts asham'd, since by themselves consum'd,
Have done their duty to repentant wit:
Asham'd of all, sweet guide, I sorry sit,
To see in youth how I too far presum'd.
Thus he whom love and error did betray,
Subscribes to thee, and takes the better way.
Sero sed serio

Sitting and sighing in my secret muse,
As once Apollo did, surpris'd with love,
Noting the slippery ways young years do use,
What fond affects the prime of youth do move;
With bitter tears, despairing I do cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”

When wanton age, the blossoms of my time,
Drew me to gaze upon the gorgeous sight,
That beauty, pompous in her highest prime,
Presents to tangle men with sweet delight;
Then with despairing tears my thoughts do cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”

When I surve'd the riches of her looks,
Whereout flew flames of never-quench'd desire,
Wherein lay baits that Venus snares with hooks,
Or where proud Cupid sat all arm'd with fire;
Then, touch'd with love, my inward soul do cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”

The milk-white Galaxy of her brow,
Where Love doth dance lavoltas of his skill,
Like to the temple where true lovers vow
To follow what shall please their mistress' will;
Noting her ivory front, now do I cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”

Her face, like silver Luna in her shine,
All tainted through with bright vermillion stains,
Like lilies dipp'd in Bacchus' choicest wine,
Powder'd and interseam'd with azur'd veins;
Delighting in their pride, now may I cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”

The golden wires that checker in the day
Inferior to the tresses of her hair,
Her amber tramels did my heart dismay,
That, when I look'd, I durst not over-dare;
Proud of her pride, now am I forc'd to cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”

These fading beauties drew me on to sin,
Nature's great riches fram'd my bitter ruth;
These were the traps that love did snare me in,
Oh, these, and none but these, have wrack'd my youth!
Misled by them, I may dispairing cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”

By these I slipp'd from virtue's holy track,
That leads unto the highest crystal sphere;
By these I fell to vanity and wrack,
And as a man forlorn with sin and fear,
Despair and sorrow doth constrain me cry,
“Woe worth the faults and follies of mine eye!”