Verse > Anthologies > Elizabethan Sonnets > Parthenophil and Parthenophe
Seccombe and Arber, comps.  Elizabethan Sonnets.  1904.
Parthenophil and Parthenophe
Sonnet XXXV. Next, when my sun, by progress, took his hold
Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)
NEXT, when my sun, by progress, took his hold
  In Cancer, of my Mistress’ crafty mind;
  How retrograde seemed She! when as I told
  That “in his claws, such torches I did find;
Which if She did not to my tears lay plain        5
  That they might quenchèd be from their outrage;
  My love’s hot June should be consumed in pain,
  Unless her pity make my grief assuage.”
O, how She frowns! and like the Crab, back turns!
  When I request her put her beams apart;        10
  Yet with her beams, my soul’s delight, She burns!
  She pities not to think upon my smart!
Nor from her Cancer’s claws can I depart:
  For there, the torch of my red-hot Desire
  Grieves and relieves me, with continual fire.        15

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