XI TELL me, my dear, what moves thy ruthless mind But winged love's unpartial cruel wound, Until my Chloris make me whole and sound. O glorious love-god, think on my heart's grief; Let not thy vassal pine through deep disdain ; By wounding Chloris I shall find relief, If thou impart to her some of my pain. XII CEASE, eyes, to weep sith none bemoans your weeping; Leave off, good muse, to sound the cruel name Of my love's queen which hath my heart in keeping, Yet of my love doth make a jesting game! Long hath my sufferance laboured to inforce One pearl of pity from her pretty eyes, Whilst I with restless oceans of remorse Bedew the banks where my fair Chloris lies, Where my fair Chloris bathes her tender skin, And doth triumph to see such rivers fall From those moist springs, which never dry have been Since she their honour hath detained in thrall; And still she scorns one favouring smile to show Unto those waves proceeding from my woe. XIII A Dream WHAT time fair Titan in the zenith sat, And underneath a broad beech took my seat, The dreaming god which Morpheus poets call, Augmenting fuel to my Aetna's fire, With sleep possessing my weak senses all, Till breathless I upon the earth him left. Then when my coy nymph saw her breathless foe, With kisses kind she gratifies my pain, Protesting never rigour more to show. Happy was I this good hap to obtain; But drowsy slumbers flying to their cell, My sudden joy converted was to bale; My wonted sorrows still with me do dwell. I looked round about on hill and dale, But I could neither my fair Chloris view, Nor yet the satyr which erstwhile I slew. L XIV MOURNFUL Amintas, thou didst pine with care, When thy love's spring did first begin to bloom. My Chloris, living, hates poor Corin's love, Thus doth my woe as great as thine appear, Though sundry accents both our sorrows move. Thy swan-like songs did show thy dying anguish ; These weeping truce-men show I living languish. |