Verse > Anthologies > William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. > The Book of Elizabethan Verse
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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed.  The Book of Elizabethan Verse.  1907.
 
Love Omnipresent
By Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)
 
TURN 1 I my looks unto the skies,
Love with his arrows wounds mine eyes;
If so I gaze upon the ground,
Love then in every flower is found;
Search I the shade to fly my pain,        5
He meets me in the shade again;
Wend I to walk in secret grove,
Ev’n there I meet with sacred Love:
If so I bain me in the spring,
Ev’n on the bank I hear him sing;        10
If so I meditate alone,
He will be partner of my moan;
If so I mourn, he weeps with me,
And where I am there he will be.
 
Note 1. From Rosalind, 1590. Mr. Bullen says this was doubtless suggested by Desportes’ sonnet:
  Si je me siez à l’ombre, assui soudainement
Amour, laissant son arc, s’assied et se repose;
Si je pense à des vers, je le voy qui compose;
Si je plains mes douleurs, il se plaint hautement.
  Si je me plains au mal, il accroist mon tourment;
Si je respans des pleurs, son visage il arrose;
Si je monstre ma playe, en ma poitrine enclose,
Il défait son bandeau, l’essuyant doucement.
  Si je vais par les bois, aux bois il m’accompagne;
Si je me suis cruel, dans mon sang il se bagne;
Si je vais à la guerre, il devient mon soldat.
  Si je passe la mer, il conduit ma nacelle;
Bref, jamais l’importun de moy ne se départ,
Pour rendre mon désir et ma peine eternelle.
“Lodge was fond of this sonnet of Desportes,” says Mr. Bullen. He gives a literal translation of it in Scylla’s Metamorphosis, 1589:
  “If so I seek the shades I suddenly do see
The god of love forsake his bow and sit by me;
If that I think to write his muses pliant be,
If so I plain my grief the wanton boy will cry.
  If I lament his pride he doth increase my pain;
If tears my cheeks attaint, his cheeks are moist with moan;
If I disclose the wounds the which my heart hath slain,
He takes his fascia off and wipes them dry anon.
  If so I walk the woods, the woods are his delight;
If I myself torment, he bathes him in my blood;
If seas delight, he steers my bark amid the flood:
He will my soldier be if once I went to fight;
  In brief the cruel god doth never from here go,
But makes my lasting love eternal with my woe.”
Lodge reprinted this with alterations in Phillis: Honoured with Sundry Sonnets, 1593. Elizabethan Sonnets, in An English Garner, Seccombe ed., 1904, number xxxvi. [back]
 
 
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