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The Second Booke. V. by Thomas Campion. The Riuers clearely flow ; The groues and medowes swell with flowres, The windes all gently blow. Her Sunne-like beauty shines so fayre, Her Spring can neuer fade : Who then can blame the life that striues To harbour in her shade ? Her grace I sought, her loue I wooed ; Her loue though I obtaine, 10 No time, no toyle, no vow, no faith, Her wished grace can gaine. Yet truth can tell my heart is hers, And her will I adore ; And from that loue when I depart, Let heau'n view me no more. Her roses with my prayers shall spring ; And when her trees I praise, Their boughs shall blossome, mellow fruit Shall straw her pleasant wayes. 20 The words of harty zeale haue powre High wonders to effect ; O why should then her Princely eare My words, or zeale neglect ? If shee my faith misdeemes, or worth, Woe-worth my haplesse fate : For though time can my truth reueale, That time will come too late. And who can glory in the worth, That cannot yeeld him grace ? 30 Content in eu'rything is not, Nor ioy in eu'ry place. But from her bowre of Ioy since I Must now excluded be, And shee will not relieue my cares, Which none can helpe but shee ; My comfort in her loue shall dwell, Her loue lodge in my brest, And though not in her bowre, yet I Shall in her temple rest. 40 Text source: Campion, Thomas. Campion's Works. Percival Vivian, Ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1909. 134-135. |