by Thomas Wyatt
IF it be so that I forsake thee,
As banished from thy company;
Yet my heart, my mind, and my affection,
Shall still remain in thy perfection,
And right as thou list so order me. 5
But some would say in their opinion,
Revolted is thy good intention.
Then may I well blame thy cruelty,
If it be so.
But myself I say on this fashion; 10
‘I have her heart in my possession,
And of itself cannot, perdie!
By no means love, an heartless body!’
And on my faith good is the reason,
If it be so. 15
THE RECURED LOVER RENOUNCETH HIS FICKLE MISTRESS FOR HER NEWFANGLENESS
THOU hast no faith of him that hath none,
But thou must love him needs by reason;
For as saith a proverb notable,
Each thing seeketh his semblable,
And thou hast thine of thy condition. 5
Yet is it not the thing I pass on,
Nor hot nor cold is mine affection!
For since thine heart is so mutable,
Thou hast no faith.
I thought thee true without exception, 10
But I perceive I lacked discretion;
To fashion faith to words mutable,
Thy thought is too light and variable
To change so oft without occasion.
Thou hast no faith! 15
Odes
THE LOVER COMPLAINETH THE UNKINDNESS OF HIS LOVE
MY lute, awake, perform the last
Labour, that thou and I shall waste;
And end that I have now begun:
And when this song is sung and past,
My lute, be still, for I have done. 5
As to be heard where ear is none;
As lead to grave in marble stone;
My song may pierce her heart as soon.
Should we then sigh, or sing, or moan?
No, no, my lute, for I have done. 10
The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my suit and affection:
So that I am past remedy;
Whereby my lute and I have done. 15
Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
Of simple hearts through Love’s shot,
By whom unkind thou hast them won:
Think not he hath his bow forgot,
Although my lute and I have done. 20
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,
That makest but game on earnest pain;
Think not alone under the sun
Unquit to cause thy lovers plain;
Although my lute and I have done. 25
May chance thee lie withered and old
In winter nights, that are so cold,
Plaining in vain unto the moon;
Thy wishes then dare not be told:
Care then who list, for I have done. 30
And then may chance thee to repent
The time that thou hast lost and spent,
To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon:
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want as I have done. 35
Now cease, my lute, this is the last
Labour, that thou and I shall waste;
And ended is that we begun:
Now is this song both sung and past;
My lute, be still, for I have done. 40
THE LOVER REJOICETH THE ENJOYING OF HIS LOVE
ONCE, as methought, fortune me kiss’d,
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, 5
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; 10
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, 15
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. 20
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, 25
In granting me my most desire:
Of my sovereign I have redress,
And I content me with my hire.
THE LOVER SHEWETH HOW HE IS FORSAKEN OF SUCH AS HE SOMETIME ENJOYED
THEY flee from me, that sometime did me seek,
With naked foot stalking within my chamber:
Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild, and do not once remember,
That sometime they have put themselves in danger 5
To take bread at my hand; and now they range
Busily seeking in continual change.
Thanked be Fortune, it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once especial,
In thin array, after a pleasant guise, 10
When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small,
And therewithal so sweetly did me kiss,
And softly said, ‘Dear heart, how like you this?’
It was no dream; for I lay broad awaking: 15
But all is turn’d now, through my gentleness,
Into a bitter fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness;
And she also to use new fangleness.
But since that I unkindly so am served: 20
How like you this, what hath she now deserved?
THE LOVER TO HIS BED, WITH DESCRIBING OF HIS UNQUIET STATE
THE RESTFUL place, renewer of my smart,
The labours’ salve, increasing my sorrow,
The body’s ease, and troubler of my heart,
Quieter of mind, mine unquiet foe,
Forgetter of pain, rememberer of my woe, 5
The place of sleep, wherein I do but wake,
Besprent with tears, my bed, I thee forsake.
The frosty snows may not redress my heat,
Nor heat of sun abate my fervent cold,
I know nothing to ease my pains so great; 10
Each cure causeth increase by twenty fold,
Renewing cares upon my sorrows old,
Such overthwart effects in me they make:
Besprent with tears, my bed for to forsake.
But all for nought, I find no better ease 15
In bed or out: this most causeth my pain,
Where I do seek how best that I may please;
My lost labour, alas, is all in vain:
My heart once set, I cannot it refrain;
No place from me my grief away can take; 20
Wherefore with tears, my bed, I thee forsake.
THE LOVER COMPLAINETH THAT HIS LOVE DOTH NOT PITY HIM
RESOUND my voice, ye woods, that hear me plain:
Both hills and vales causing reflexion;
And rivers eke, record ye of my pain,
Which have oft forced ye by compassion,
As judges, lo, to hear my exclamation: 5
Among whom ruth, I find, yet doth remain;
Where I it seek, alas, there is disdain.
Oft, ye rivers, to hear my woful sound
Have stopt your course: and plainly to express
Many a tear by moisture of the ground, 10
The earth hath wept to hear my heav
iness:
Which causeless I endure without redress.
The hugy oaks have roared in the wind:
Each thing, methought, complaining in their kind
Why then, alas, doth not she on me rue? 15
Or is her heart so hard that no pity
May in it sink, my joy for to renew?
O stony heart, who hath thus framed thee
So cruel; that art cloaked with beauty;
That from thee may no grace to me proceed, 20
But as reward, death for to be my meed?
THE LOVER COMPLAINETH HIMSELF FORSAKEN
WHERE shall I have at mine own will,
Tears to complain? where shall I fet
Such sighs, that I may sigh my fill,
And then again my plaints repeat?
For, though my plaint shall have none end, 5
My tears cannot suffice my woe:
To moan my harm have I no friend;
For fortune’s friend is mishap’s foe.
Comfort, God wot, else have I none,
But in the wind to waste my wordes; 10
Nought moveth you my deadly moan,
But still you turn it into bordes.
I speak not now, to move your heart,
That you should rue upon my pain;
The sentence given may not revert: 15
I know such labour were but vain.
But since that I for you, my dear,
Have lost that thing, that was my best;
A right small loss it must appear
To lose these words, and all the rest. 20
But though they sparkle in the wind,
Yet shall they shew your falsed faith;
Which is returned to his kind;
For like to like, the proverb saith.
Fortune and you did me avance; 25
Methought I swam, and could not drown:
Happiest of all; but my mischance
Did lift me up, to throw me down.
And you with her, of cruelness
Did set your foot upon my neck, 30
Me, and my welfare, to oppress;
Without offence your heart to wreck.
Where are your pleasant words, alas?
Where is your faith? your steadfastness?
There is no more but all doth pass, 35
And I am left all comfortless.
But since so much it doth you grieve,
And also me my wretched life,
Have here my truth: nought shall relieve,
But death alone, my wretched strife. 40
Therefore farewell, my life, my death;
My gain, my loss, my salve, my sore;
Farewell also, with you my breath;
For I am gone for evermore.
A RENOUNCING OF HARDLY ESCAPED LOVE
FAREWELL the heart of cruelty;
Though that with pain my liberty
Dear have I bought, and wofully
Finish’d my fearful tragedy.
Of force I must forsake such pleasure; 5
A good cause just, since I endure
Thereby my woe, which be ye sure,
Shall therewith go me to recure.
I fare as one escap’d that fleeth,
Glad he is gone, and yet still feareth 10
Spied to be caught, and so dreadeth
That he for nought his pain leseth.
In joyful pain, rejoice my heart,
Thus to sustain of each a part.
Let not this song from thee astart, 15
Welcome among my pleasant smart.
THE LOVER TAUGHT, MISTRUSTETH ALLUREMENTS
IT may be good, like it who list;
But I do doubt: who can me blame?
For oft assured, yet have I mist;
And now again I fear the same.
The words, that from your mouth last came, 5
Of sudden change, make me aghast;
For dread to fall, I stand not fast.
Alas, I tread an endless maze,
That seek t’ accord two contraries;
And hope thus still, and nothing hase, 10
Imprisoned in liberties:
As one unheard, and still that cries;
Always thirsty, and nought doth taste;
For dread to fall, I stand not fast.
Assured, I doubt I be not sure; 15
Should I then trust unto such surety;
That oft hath put the proof in ure,
And never yet have found it trusty?
Nay, sir, in faith, it were great folly:
And yet my life thus do I waste; 20
For dread to fall, I stand not fast.
THE LOVER REJOICETH AGAINST FORTUNE THAT BY HINDERING HIS SUIT HAD HAPPILY MADE HIM FORSAKE HIS FOLLY
IN faith I wot not what to say,
Thy chances been so wonderous,
Thou Fortune, with thy divers play
That makest the joyful dolorous,
And eke the same right joyous. 5
Yet though thy chain hath me enwrapt,
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well hapt.
Though thou has set me for a wonder,
And seekest by change to do me pain:
Men’s minds yet mayst thou not so order; 10
For honesty, if it remain,
Shall shine for all thy cloudy rain.
In vain thou seekest to have me trapped;
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well hapt.
In hindering me, me didst thou further; 15
And made a gap, where was a stile:
Cruel wills been oft put under;
Weening to lour, then didst thou smile:
Lord, how thyself thou didst beguile,
That in thy cares wouldst me have wrapt? 20
But spite of hap, hap hath well hapt.
THE LOVER’S SORROWFUL STATE MAKETH HIM WRITE SORROWFUL SONGS, BUT SUCH HIS LOVE MAY CHANGE THE SAME
MARVEL no more although
The songs, I sing, do moan;
For other life than woe,
I never proved none.
And in my heart also 5
Is graven with letters deep,
A thousand sighs and mo,
A flood of tears to weep.
How may a man in smart
Find matter to rejoice? 10
How may a mourning heart
Set forth a pleasant voice?
Play, who so can, that part,
Needs must in me appear
How fortune overthwart 15
Doth cause my mourning cheer.
Perdie there is no man,
If he saw never sight,
That perfectly tell can
The nature of the light. 20
Alas, how should I than,
That never taste but sour,
But do as I began,
Continually to lour.
But yet perchance some chance 25
May chance to change my tune,
And when such chance doth chance,
Then shall I thank fortune.
And if I have such chance,
Perchance ere it be long, 30
For such a pleasant chance,
To sing some pleasant song.
THE LOVER SENDETH HIS COMPLAINTS AND TEARS TO SUE FOR GRACE
PASS forth, my wonted cries,
Those cruel ears to pierce,
Which in most hateful wise
Do still my plaints reverse.
Do you, my tears, also 5
So wet her barren heart,
That pity there may grow,
And cruelty depart.
For though hard rocks among
She seems to have been bred, 10
And of the tiger long
Been nourished and fed;
Yet shall not nature change,
If pity once win place;
Whom as unknown and strange 15
She now away doth chase.
And as the water soft,
Without forcing or strength,
Hard stones doth pierce at length: 20
So in her stony heart
My plaints at last shall grave,
And, rigour set apart,
Win grant of that I crave.
Wherefore, my plaints, present 25
Still so to her my suit,
As ye, through her assent,
May bring to me some fruit.
And as she shall me prove,
So bid her me regard; 30
And render love for love;
Which is a just reward.
THE LOVER’S CASE CANNOT BE HIDDEN HOWEVER HE DISSEMBLE
YOUR looks so often cast,
Your eyes so friendly roll’d,
Your sight fixed so fast,
Always one to behold;
Though hide it fain ye would, 5
It plainly doth declare,
Who hath your heart in hold,
And where good will ye bear.
Fain would ye find a cloak
Your brenning fire to hide, 10
Yet both the flame and smoke
Breaks out on every side.
Ye cannot love so guide,
That it no issue win:
Abroad needs must it glide, 15
That brens so hot within.
For cause yourself do wink,
Ye judge all other blind;
And secret it you think,
Which every man doth find. 20
In waste oft spend ye wind,
Yourself in love to quit;
For agues of that kind
Will shew who hath the fit.
Your sighs you fetch from far, 25
And all to wry your woe;
Yet are ye ne’er the narre:
Men are not blinded so.
Deeply oft swear ye no;
But all those oaths are vain: 30
So well your eye doth shew,
Who puts your heart to pain.
Think not therefore to hide,
That still itself betrays:
Nor seek means to provide 35
To dark the sunny days.
Forget those wonted ways;
Leave off such frowning cheer;
There will be found no stays,
To stop a thing so clear. 40
THE LOVER PRAYETH NOT TO BE DISDAINED, REFUSED, MISTRUSTED, NOR FORSAKEN
DISDAIN me not without desert;
Nor leave me not so suddenly;