| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Nicholas Grimald. 1519–62 |
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| 42. A True Love |
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| WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see, | |
| What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true love is to me! | |
| As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed— | |
| As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening's weed— | |
| As mellow pears above the crabs esteemèd be— | 5 |
| So doth my love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see! | |
| The oak shall olives bear, the lamb the lion fray, | |
| The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay, | |
| Or I my love let slip out of mine entire heart, | |
| So deep reposèd in my breast is she for her desart! | 10 |
| For many blessèd gifts, O happy, happy land! | |
| Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand! | |
| Yet, land, more is thy bliss that, in this cruel age, | |
| A Venus' imp thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage. | |
| Among the Muses Nine a tenth if Jove would make, | 15 |
| And to the Graces Three a fourth, her would Apollo take. | |
| Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold: | |
| With her so I may live and die, my weal cannot be told. | |
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