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


The deceived Lover sueth only for Liberty

IF chance assign’d,

Were to my mind,

By very kind

Of destiny;

Yet would I crave

Nought else to have,

But life and liberty.

Then were I sure,

I might endure

The displeasure

Of cruelty;

Where now I plain,

Alas! in vain,

Lacking my life, for liberty.

For without th’ one,

Th’ other is gone,

And there can none

It remedy;

If th’ one be past,

Th’ other doth waste,

And all for lack of liberty.

And so I drive,

As yet alive,

Although I strive

With misery;

Drawing my breath,

Looking for death,

And loss of life for liberty.

But thou that still,

Mayst at thy will,

Turn all this ill


For the repair,

Of my welfare,

Grant me but life and liberty.

And if not so,

Then let all go

To wretched woe,

And let me die;

For th’ one or th’ other,

There is none other;

My death, or life with liberty.