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Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42). The Poetical Works. 1880.


A Complaint of the Falseness of Love

IT is a grievous smart,

To suffer pain and sorrow;

But most grieveth my heart,

He laid his faith to borrow;

And falsehood hath his faith and troth,

And he foresworn by many an oath.

All ye lovers, perdie!

Hath cause to blame his deed,

Which shall example be,

To let you of your speed;

Let never woman again

Trust to such words as man can feign.

For I unto my cost

Am warning to you all;

That they whom you trust most

Soonest deceive you shall;

But complaint cannot redress,

Of my great grief the great excess.

Farewell! all my welfare!

My shoe is trod awry.

Now may I cark and care,

To sing lullaby! lullaby!

Alas! what shall I do thereto?

There is no shift to help me now.

Who made it such offence,

To love for love again;

God wot! that my pretence

Was but to ease his pain;

For I had ruth to see his woe:

Alas! more fool! why did I so!

For he from me is gone,

And makes thereat a game;

And hath left me alone,

To suffer sorrow and shame;

Alas! he is unkind doubtless,

To leave me thus all comfortless.