O NCE, as methought, Fortune me kissed
   And bade me ask what I thought best,
   And I should have it as me list,
Therewith to set my heart in rest,
    I asked but my lady's heart,
To have for evermore mine own ;
Then at an end were all my smart ;
Then should I need no more to moan.
    Yet for all that a stormy blast
Had overturn'd this goodly nay ;1
And fortune seemed at the last
That to her promise she said nay.
    But like as one out of despair,
To sudden hope revived I ;
Now Fortune sheweth herself so fair,
That I content me wondrously.
    My most desire my hand may reach,
My will is alway at my hand ;
Me need not long for to beseech
Her, that hath power me to command.
    What earthly thing more can I crave ?
What would I wish more at my will ?
Nothing on earth more would I have ?
Save that I have, to have it still.
    For Fortune now hath kept her promess,
In granting me my most desire :
Of my sovereign2 I have redress,
And I content me with my hire.

1  Day.—Nott. 2  Sufferance.—Nott.

Yeowell, James, Ed. The Poetical Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt.
London: George Bell and Sons, 1904. 30-31.

Backto the Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt

Site copyright ©1996-2007 Anniina Jokinen. All Rights Reserved.
Created by Anniina Jokinen on April 26, 2000. Last updated March 6, 2007.