Classic Poem

The lover, neither greatly favoured nor openly refused, compareth the wretchednesse of his estate unto the paines of hell

Full fearefull is the talke of Tantals griese,
Who hunger sterves in seas of deintre fare,
Which falles to eb when he should find reliefe,
And flowes againe, his hope with woes to ware:
And how in vaine poore Sisyphus doth mone,
To mountaine top who stil doth roll the stone.

And reaching thus the point of all his paine,
For joy he leapes, downe falles his fruites of toyle:
Straight backe he runnes to fetch the stone againe;
A new he rolles, but reapes his former foyle.
These be their plages which light in Sathans trap,
To wish and want, to hope and have no hap.

If then it be a hell in doubt to live,
Myselfe by proofe can blase thereof the paine,
Who findeth grace where scorn but late did grieve,
And fead with hope, with hate is sterv'd againe;
For all his suite who can no answere knowe,
If his sweete maistresse loves him, yea or no.

If secrete yea this item would but give,
I love in hart where most in shewe I hate;
To free suspect thus straungely do I live,
To plight my fayth where scorne doth faine debate,
Unto my smart it were a sweete reliefe,
Then should my lute sound notes of joy, no griefe.

Then would I laugh to see my lady pout,
And smyle when most she wroung her mouth awry;
A signe of fayth should seeme each thwarting flout,
And jealous feare farre from my hart should fly,
Although in armes my foe did her imbrace,
If once she fleard with fancie on my face.

If open no would will my suites to cease,
I know the worst, and so adieu to smart;
A hastie death my sorrowes could appease,
Or languor would soone pierce my pyning hart:
Thus death were worse, how so my fortune fell,
But now, alive, I feele the paines of hell.

By gleames of grace I reape a hot reliefe.
With storms of scorne I freese againe with feare:
Thus flouds of joy do fall to eb with griefe,
And doubtfull hope desired hap doth weare:
In favour most, I move her still to love;
Soft! she replyes, I must your patience prove.

I feare to say, be plaine with yea or no,
Least in her pettes no please her peevish thought.
And scorne with all my joyes do overthrowe:
So forward haste with backward speed were bought.
Thus am I forst to daunce attendance still:
God graunt for al in fine I get good will!