Complete Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt

by Thomas Wyatt

  Alas! the while! 5

  With piteous look she said, and sight,

  ‘Alas! what aileth me?

  To love, and set my wealth so light,

  On him that loveth not me;

  Alas! the while! 10

  ‘Was I not well void of all pain,

  When that nothing me griev’d?

  And now with sorrows I must complain,

  And cannot be reliev’d,

  Alas! the while! 15

  ‘My restful nights, and joyful days,

  Since I began to love

  Be take from me; all thing decays,

  Yet can I not remove,

  Alas! the while!’ 20

  She wept and wrung her hands withal,

  The tears fell in my neck:

  She turned her face, and let it fall;

  And scarce therewith could speak:

  Alas! the while! 25

  Her pains tormented me so sore

  That comfort had I none,

  But cursed my fortune more and more

  To see her sob and groan,

  Alas! the while! 30

  THE NEGLECTED LOVER CALLETH ON HIS STONY HEARTED MISTRESS TO HEAR HIM COMPLAIN ERE THAT HE DIE

  HEAVEN, and earth, and all that hear me plain

  Do well perceive what care doth make me cry;

  Save you alone, to whom I cry in vain;

  Mercy, Madam, alas! I die, I die!

  If that you sleep, I humbly you require 5

  Forbear awhile, and let your rigour slake,

  Since that by you I burn thus in this fire;

  To hear my plaint, dear heart, awake! awake!

  Since that so oft ye have made me to wake

  In plaint, and tears, and in right piteous case; 10

  Displease you not if force do now me make

  To break your sleep, crying alas! alas!

  It is the last trouble that ye shall have

  Of me, Madam, to hear my last complaint;

  Pity at least your poor unhappy slave, 15

  For in despair, alas! I faint, I faint.

  It is not now, but long and long ago

  I have you served, as to my power and might

  As faithfully as any man might do;

  Claiming of you nothing of right, of right. 20

  Save of your grace only to stay my life

  That fleeth as fast as cloud before the wind;

  For since that first I entered in this strife,

  An inward death hath fret my mind, my mind.

  If I had suffered this to you unware 25

  Mine were the fault, and you nothing to blame;

  But since you know my woe and all my care,

  Why do I die, alas! for shame! for shame!

  I know right well my face, my look, my tears,

  Mine eyes, my words, and eke my dreary chere 30

  Have cried my death full oft unto your ears;

  Hard of belief it doth appear, appear.

  A better proof I see that ye would have;

  How I am dead, therefore, when ye hear tell

  Believe it not, although ye see my grave; 35

  Cruel! unkind! I say farewell! farewell!

  HE REJOICETH THE OBTAINING THE FAVOUR OF THE MISTRESS OF HIS HEART

  AFTER great storms the calm returns,

  And pleasanter it is thereby;

  Fortune likewise that often turns,

  Hath made me now the most happy.

  The Heaven that pitied my distress, 5

  My just desire, and my cry;

  Hath made my languor to cease,

  And me also the most happy.

  Whereto dispaired ye, my friends?

  My trust alway in her did lie 10

  That knoweth what my thought intends;

  Whereby I live the most happy.

  Lo! what can take hope from that heart,

  That is assured steadfastly;

  Hope therefore ye that live in smart, 15

  Whereby I am the most happy.

  And I that have felt of your pain

  Shall pray to God continually,

  To make your hope, your health retain,

  And me also the most happy. 20

  THE LOVER PRAYETH VENUS TO CONDUCT HIM TO THE DESIRED HAVEN

  THOUGH this the port, and I thy servant true,

  And thou thyself doth cast thy beams from high

  From thy chief house, promising to renew

  Both joy and eke delight, behold yet how that I,

  Banished from my bliss, carefully do cry. 5

  Help now Cytheræa! my lady dear.

  My fearful trust, ‘En vogant la Galere.’

  Alas! the doubt that dreadful absence giveth!

  Without thine aid assurance is there none;

  The firm faith that in the water fleteth, 10

  Succour thou therefore, in thee it is alone.

  Stay that with faith, that faithfully doth moan,

  Thou also givest me both hope and fear,

  Remember me then, ‘En vogant Galere.’

  By seas, and hills elonged from thy sight, 15

  Thy wonted grace reducing to my mind,

  Instead of sleep thus I occupy the night;

  A thousand thoughts, and many doubts I find,

  And still I trust thou canst not be unkind,

  Or else despair my comfort and my chere 20

  Would she forthwith, ‘En vogant la Galere.’

  Yet, on my faith! full little doth remain

  Of any hope whereby I may myself uphold;

  For since that only words do me retain,

  I may well think the affection is but cold. 25

  But since my will is nothing as I would,

  And in thy hands it resteth whole and clear,

  Forget me not, ‘En vogant la Galere.’

  THE LOVER PRAISETH THE BEAUTY OF HIS LADY’S HAND

  O GOODLY hand,

  Wherein doth stand

  My heart distract in pain:

  Dear hand, alas!

  In little space 5

  My life thou dost restrain.

  O fingers slight,

  Departed right,

  So long, so small, so round!

  Goodly begone, 10

  And yet a bone

  Most cruel in my wound.

  With lilies white

  And roses bright

  Doth strain thy colour fair: 15

  Nature did lend

  Each finger’s end

  A pearl for to repair.

  Consent at last,

  Since that thou hast 20

  My heart in thy demain,

  For service true

  On me to rue,

  And reach me love again.

  And if not so 25

  There with more woe

  Enforce thyself to strain

  This simple heart,

  That suffered smart,

  And rid it out of pain. 30

  THAT THE EYE BEWRAYETH ALWAY THE SECRET AFFECTIONS OF THE HEART

  AND if an eye may save or slay,

  And strike more deep than weapon long;

  And if an eye by subtle play,

  May move one more than any tongue;

  How can ye say that I do wrong, 5

  Thus to suspect without desert?

  For the eye is traitor to the heart.

  To frame all well, I am content

  That it were done unweetingly;

  But yet I say, (who will assent,) 10

  To do but well, do nothing why

  That men should deem the contrary;

  For it is said by men expert;

  That the eye is traitor of the heart.

  But yet, alas! that look, all soul, 15

  That I do claim of right to have,

  Should not, methink —— go seek the school,

  To please all folk, for who can crave

  Friendlier thing than heart witsave

  By look to give in friendly part; 20

 
For the eye is traitor of the heart.

  And my suspect is without blame;

  For as ye say, not only I

  But other mo have deem’d the same;

  Then is it not jealousy, 25

  But subtle look of reckless eye

  Did range too far, to make me smart;

  For the eye is traitor of the heart.

  But I your Friend shall take it thus,

  Since you will so, as stroke of chance; 30

  And leave further for to discuss,

  Whether the stroke did stick or glance?

  But ‘scuse who can let him advance

  Dissembled looks, but for my part,

  My eye must still betray my heart. 35

  And of this grief ye shall be quit,

  In helping Truth steadfast to go.

  The time is long that Truth doth sit

  Feeble and weak, and suff’reth woe;

  Cherish him well, continue so; 40

  Let him not fro’ your heart astart;

  Then fears not the eye to shew the heart.

  THE LOVER COMPLAINETH THAT FAITH MAY NOT AVAIL WITHOUT THE FAVOUR OF FANTASY

  IF Fancy would favour,

  As my deserving shall;

  My Love, my Paramour,

  Should love me best of all.

  But if I cannot attain 5

  The grace that I desire,

  Then may I well complain

  My service, and my hire.

  Fancy doth know how

  To further my true heart; 10

  If Fancy might avow

  With Faith to take part.

  But Fancy is so frail

  And flitting still so fast,

  That Faith may not prevail 15

  To help me, first nor last.

  For Fancy at his lust,

  Doth rule all but by guess;

  Whereto should I then trust

  In truth or steadfastness. 20

  Yet gladly would I please

  The fancy of her heart,

  That may me only ease

  And cure my careful smart.

  Therefore, my Lady dear, 25

  Set once your Fantasy

  To make some hope appear,

  Of steadfast remedy.

  For if he be my friend,

  And undertake my woe, 30

  My grief is at an end

  If he continue so.

  Else Fancy doth not right

  As I deserve and shall,

  To have you day and night, 35

  To love me best of all.

  THAT TOO MUCH CONFIDENCE SOMETIMES DISAPPOINTETH HOPE

  MY hope, alas! hath me abused,

  And vain rejoicing hath me fed:

  Lust and joy have me refused,

  And careful plaint is in their stead;

  Too much advancing slack’d my speed, 5

  Mirth hath caused my heaviness,

  And I remain all comfortless.

  Whereto did I assure my thought

  Without displeasure steadfastly;

  In Fortune’s forge my joy was wrought, 10

  And is revolted readily.

  I am mistaken wonderly;

  For I thought nought but faithfulness;

  Yet I remain all comfortless.

  In gladsome cheer I did delight, 15

  Till that delight did cause my smart,

  And all was wrong when I thought right;

  For right it was, that my true heart

  Should not from Truth be set apart,

  Since Truth did cause my hardiness; 20

  Yet I remain all comfortless.

  Sometime delight did tune my song,

  And led my heart full pleasantly;

  And to myself I said among —

  ‘My hap is coming hastily.’ 25

  But it hath happed contrary.

  Assurance causeth my distress,

  And I remain all comfortless.

  Then if my note now do vary,

  And leave his wonted pleasantness; 30

  The heavy burthen that I carry

  Hath alter’d all my joyfulness.

  No pleasure hath still steadfastness,

  But haste hath hurt my happiness;

  And I remain all comfortless. 35

  THE LOVER BEMOANETH HIS UNHAPPINESS THAT HE CANNOT OBTAIN GRACE, YET CANNOT CEASE LOVING

  ALL heavy minds

  Do seek to ease their charge;

  And that that most them binds

  To let at large.

  Then why should I 5

  Hold pain within my heart,

  And may my tune apply,

  To ease my smart.

  My faithful Lute

  Alone shall hear me plain, 10

  For else all other suit

  Is clean in vain.

  For where I sue

  Redress of all my grief;

  Lo! they do most eschew 15

  My heart’s relief.

  Alas! my dear!

  Have I deserved so?

  That no help may appear

  Of all my woe! 20

  Whom speak I to?

  Unkind, and deaf of ear!

  Alas! lo! I go,

  And wot not where.

  Where is my thought? 25

  Where wanders my desire?

  Where may the thing be sought

  That I require?

  Light in the wind

  Doth flee all my delight; 30

  Where truth and faithful mind

  Are put to flight.

  Who shall me give

  Feather’d wings for to flee?

  The thing that doth me grieve 35

  That I may see!

  Who would go seek

  The cause whereby to pain?

  Who could his foe beseek

  For ease of pain! 40

  My chance doth so

  My woful case procure,

  To offer to my foe

  My heart to cure.

  What hope I then 45

  To have any redress!

  Of whom, or where, or when?

  Who can express!

  No! since despair

  Hath set me in this case, 50

  In vain is’t in the air

  To say, Alas!

  I seek nothing

  But thus for to discharge

  My heart of sore sighing, 55

  To plain at large.

  And with my lute

  Sometime to ease my pain;

  For else all other suit

  Is clean in vain. 60

  THE MOURNFUL LOVER TO HIS HEART WITH COMPLAINT THAT IT WILL NOT BREAK

  COMFORT thyself, my woful heart,

  Or shortly on thyself thee wreak;

  For length redoubleth deadly smart;

  Why sigh’st thou, heart! and wilt not break?

  To waste in sighs were piteous death; 5

  Alas! I find thee faint and weak.

  Enforce thyself to lose thy breath;

  Why sigh’st thou, heart! and wilt not break?

  Thou knowest right well that no redress

  Is thus to pine; and for to speak, 10

  Perdie! it is remediless;

  Why sigh’st thou then, and wilt not break?

  It is too late for to refuse

  The yoke, when it is on thy neck!

  To shake it off, vaileth not to muse; 15

  Why sigh’st thou then, and wilt not break?

  To sob, and sigh it were but vain,

  Since there is none that doth it reck;

  Alas! thou dost prolong thy pain;

  Why sigh’st thou then, and wilt not break? 20

  Then in her sight to move her heart

  Seek on thyself, thyself to wreak,

  That she may know thou suffered’st smart;

  Sigh there thy last, and therewith break.

  THE LOVER RENOUNCES HIS CRUEL LOVE FOR EVER

  ALAS! the grief, and deadly woful smart,

  The careful chance, shapen afore my shert
,

  The sorrowful tears, the sighs hot as fire,

  That cruel love hath long soked from my heart!

  And for reward of over great desire 5

  Disdainful doubleness have I, for my hire.

  O! lost service! O pain ill rewarded!

  O! pitiful heart! with pain enlarged!

  O! faithful mind! too suddenly assented!

  Return, alas! sithens thou art not regarded. 10

  Too great a proof of true faith presented,

  Causeth by right such faith to be repented.

  O cruel causer of undeserved change,

  By great desire unconstantly to range,

  Is this your way for proof of steadfastness? 15

  Perdie! you know, the thing was not so strange,

  By former proof too much my faithfulness;

  What needeth then such coloured doubleness?

  I have wailed thus, weeping in nightly pain,

  In sobs, and sighs, alas! and all in vain, 20

  In inward plaint, and hearts woful torment.

  And yet, alas! lo! cruelty and disdain

  Have set at nought a faithful true intent,

  And price hath privilege truth to prevent.

  But though I starve, and to my death still mourn 25

  And piecemeal in pieces though I be torn;

  And though I die, yielding my wearied ghost,

  Shall never thing again make me return.

  I wite thou …. of that that I have lost

  To whom so ever lust for to prove most. 30

  A COMPLAINT OF HIS LADY’S CRUELTY

  SINCE ye delight to know,

  That my torment and woe

  Should still increase

  Without release,

  I shall enforce me so, 5

  That life and all shall go

  For to content your cruelness.

  And so this grievous train,

  That I too long sustain,

  Shall sometime cesse, 10

  And have redress,

  And you also remain,

  Full pleased with my pain,

  For to content your cruelness.

  Unless that be too light, 15

  And that ye would ye might,

  See the distress,

  And heaviness,

  Of one slain out right,

  Therewith to please your sight, 20

  And to content your cruelness.

  Then in your cruel mood

  Would God! forthwith ye would

  With force express,

  My heart oppress, 25

  To do your heart such good,

  To see me bathe in blood,

  For to content your cruelness.