A Love Dirge
My temperate style at first
With comic groans did greet,
And tho' the entry seemed sour,
The latest act was sweet.
Now tragic trumpets blow,
And sorrowing sounds unsought;
Unto my Muse's mourning mouth,
A wail again is wrought.
Before — alternate joys
Did promise some relief,
Now — care and love conspir'd in one
Have swol'n my endless grief.
So that I see no sole
Companion of my pains,
Unless it be those wretched ones
Which Pluto's reign retains.
And yet they must confess
My grief their grief exceeds;
I suffer sacklessly, alas!
But they for their misdeeds.
And this much more I add —
The Rodopean sounds
Spent at Eurydice's fare-well
Did mitigate their wounds,
And when Alcmena's son
The siege to hell did lay,
The prisoners of Pluto's pit,
Got leave to take the play.
But I, since first I did
This luckless love embrace,
Have never felt, no, not by dream
The smallest glance of grace.
But cross came upon cross,
And care conjoin'd with care,
Sighs were companions to my tears
And danger to despair.
I died and liv'd again,
I liv'd again to die;
I died, I knew not what a death,
A life it could not be.
It could not be a life,
Since that I had no heart,
And well I knew it was no death
Since that I felt my smart.
It was then such a mixt
As takes part of the two,
Or rather such, as both extremes
Do utterly misknow!
No! it was none of these,
No, neither this, nor that,
For anything that I can see,
It was — I know not what.
I knew not what it was;
But this I knew and griev'd,
I knew I was th' unhappiest being,
That ever lov'd or liv'd.
And thus remaining yet —
I glister and I glance,
A pattern of unhappiness,
A mirror of mischance.
A trophy which the Fates
Erected have on high,
To testify the true triumphs
That they have gain'd o'er me.
Yet blame I not the Fates,
For aught I do sustain,
My grief is grounded upon this,
That I dare not complain.
I neither dare, nor will,
I neither will nor may,
I might if that I would,
If that I durst essay.
But to disclose my grief,
Unto my fatal foe
Methinks it were the ready way,
For to augment my woe.
So thus concealed close
My grief is always great;
The closer that the furnace is
The sharper is the heat.
And floods are deepest there
Where highest is the dam,
And camomile doth prosper best
When men tread down the same.
But yet I fear, alas,
Or rather have no doubt,
My fiery rage is so extreme
Of force, it must burst out.
And so I shall remain
A gazing-stock to be
To such as will not credit tales,
When poets seem to lie —
Like to Typhaeus' rage,
Or girning Gorgon's ire,
Those furious and incensed sp'rits
Which thunder flaughts of fire.
Yet if I could endure
Eternally as they,
My state were more miraculous,
I dare both swear and say.
But things too violent
Cannot too long endure,
My passions are so exquisite
Their own end they'll procure.
O happy thrice were I
If so could me befall,
As chanced to Mausolus ashe,
Whose wife did drink them all.
But wishes are but vain,
Things run so to the worst
In all my life, that after death
I should be more at rest.
For who should promise me
A burial at her heart
When I am dead, who in my life
Doth play me Nero's part?
That cruel tyrant set
The seven hill'd town on fire,
And neither eyes nor flinty heart
At such a sight did tire.
But from his palace high,
He looked down along,
And thinking on the siege of Troy,
He burst out in a song.
So she — fair cruel she,
Whose looks set me on fire,
Perceiving that my modesty
To speak dare not aspire.
As it is jubilation
Unto that sex and sort;
So seeing makes her not to see,
She laughs at it as sport.
And since I dare not press
Her ears for to acquaint
With tragedies of my distress,
And words of my complaint.
I shall not cease to show
The beale wherein I bide,
Unto my wonted secretaries
In whom I do confide.
The hills and craigs I mean,
The high and stately trees,
The valleys low, and mountains high,
Whose tops escape our eyes.
And while I shew to them,
The nearest air shall hear't;
The air shall carry to the fire,
The fire to heav'ns bear't.
The heav'ns shall lay'd abroad,
Before the gods above,
And if they will not find relief,
Farewell both life and love.
With comic groans did greet,
And tho' the entry seemed sour,
The latest act was sweet.
Now tragic trumpets blow,
And sorrowing sounds unsought;
Unto my Muse's mourning mouth,
A wail again is wrought.
Before — alternate joys
Did promise some relief,
Now — care and love conspir'd in one
Have swol'n my endless grief.
So that I see no sole
Companion of my pains,
Unless it be those wretched ones
Which Pluto's reign retains.
And yet they must confess
My grief their grief exceeds;
I suffer sacklessly, alas!
But they for their misdeeds.
And this much more I add —
The Rodopean sounds
Spent at Eurydice's fare-well
Did mitigate their wounds,
And when Alcmena's son
The siege to hell did lay,
The prisoners of Pluto's pit,
Got leave to take the play.
But I, since first I did
This luckless love embrace,
Have never felt, no, not by dream
The smallest glance of grace.
But cross came upon cross,
And care conjoin'd with care,
Sighs were companions to my tears
And danger to despair.
I died and liv'd again,
I liv'd again to die;
I died, I knew not what a death,
A life it could not be.
It could not be a life,
Since that I had no heart,
And well I knew it was no death
Since that I felt my smart.
It was then such a mixt
As takes part of the two,
Or rather such, as both extremes
Do utterly misknow!
No! it was none of these,
No, neither this, nor that,
For anything that I can see,
It was — I know not what.
I knew not what it was;
But this I knew and griev'd,
I knew I was th' unhappiest being,
That ever lov'd or liv'd.
And thus remaining yet —
I glister and I glance,
A pattern of unhappiness,
A mirror of mischance.
A trophy which the Fates
Erected have on high,
To testify the true triumphs
That they have gain'd o'er me.
Yet blame I not the Fates,
For aught I do sustain,
My grief is grounded upon this,
That I dare not complain.
I neither dare, nor will,
I neither will nor may,
I might if that I would,
If that I durst essay.
But to disclose my grief,
Unto my fatal foe
Methinks it were the ready way,
For to augment my woe.
So thus concealed close
My grief is always great;
The closer that the furnace is
The sharper is the heat.
And floods are deepest there
Where highest is the dam,
And camomile doth prosper best
When men tread down the same.
But yet I fear, alas,
Or rather have no doubt,
My fiery rage is so extreme
Of force, it must burst out.
And so I shall remain
A gazing-stock to be
To such as will not credit tales,
When poets seem to lie —
Like to Typhaeus' rage,
Or girning Gorgon's ire,
Those furious and incensed sp'rits
Which thunder flaughts of fire.
Yet if I could endure
Eternally as they,
My state were more miraculous,
I dare both swear and say.
But things too violent
Cannot too long endure,
My passions are so exquisite
Their own end they'll procure.
O happy thrice were I
If so could me befall,
As chanced to Mausolus ashe,
Whose wife did drink them all.
But wishes are but vain,
Things run so to the worst
In all my life, that after death
I should be more at rest.
For who should promise me
A burial at her heart
When I am dead, who in my life
Doth play me Nero's part?
That cruel tyrant set
The seven hill'd town on fire,
And neither eyes nor flinty heart
At such a sight did tire.
But from his palace high,
He looked down along,
And thinking on the siege of Troy,
He burst out in a song.
So she — fair cruel she,
Whose looks set me on fire,
Perceiving that my modesty
To speak dare not aspire.
As it is jubilation
Unto that sex and sort;
So seeing makes her not to see,
She laughs at it as sport.
And since I dare not press
Her ears for to acquaint
With tragedies of my distress,
And words of my complaint.
I shall not cease to show
The beale wherein I bide,
Unto my wonted secretaries
In whom I do confide.
The hills and craigs I mean,
The high and stately trees,
The valleys low, and mountains high,
Whose tops escape our eyes.
And while I shew to them,
The nearest air shall hear't;
The air shall carry to the fire,
The fire to heav'ns bear't.
The heav'ns shall lay'd abroad,
Before the gods above,
And if they will not find relief,
Farewell both life and love.
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