Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Parthenophil and ParthenopheElegy VI. Behold these tears, my love’s true tribute payment!
Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)B
These plaintive Elegies, my griefs’ bewrayers;
Accoutered, as is meet, in mournful raiment!
My red-swollen eyen, which were mine heart’s betrayers!
And yet, my rebel eye, excuse prepares,
That he was never worker of my wayment,
Plaining my thoughts, that my confusion they meant.
Which thoughts, with sighs (for incense), make dumb prayers
T’appease the furies of my martyred breast;
Which witness my true loves, in long lament.
And with what agonies I am possesst!
Ah me, poor man! where shall I find some rest?
Not in thine eyes, which promise fearful hope!
Thine heart hath vowed, I shall be still distress!
To rest within thine heart, there is no scope!
All other places made for body’s ease,
As bed, field, forest, and a quiet chamber;
There, ever am I, with sad cares oppresst!
Each pleasant spectacle doth me displease!
Grief and Despair so sore on me did seize,
That day, with tediousness, doth me molest!
And P
Cannot close up the fountains of my woe!
Thus days from nights, my chargèd heart doth not know;
Nor nights, from days! All hours, to sorrows go!
Then punish Fancy! cause of thy disease!