| Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904. | | | | Parthenophil and Parthenophe | | Elegy VI. Behold these tears, my love’s true tribute payment! | | Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609) |
| | | BEHOLD these tears, my love’s true tribute payment! | |
| These plaintive Elegies, my griefs’ bewrayers; | |
| Accoutered, as is meet, in mournful raiment! | |
| My red-swollen eyen, which were mine heart’s betrayers! | |
| And yet, my rebel eye, excuse prepares, | 5 |
| That he was never worker of my wayment, | |
| Plaining my thoughts, that my confusion they meant. | |
| Which thoughts, with sighs (for incense), make dumb prayers | |
| T’appease the furies of my martyred breast; | |
| Which witness my true loves, in long lament. | 10 |
| And with what agonies I am possesst! | |
| Ah me, poor man! where shall I find some rest? | |
| Not in thine eyes, which promise fearful hope! | |
| Thine heart hath vowed, I shall be still distress! | |
| To rest within thine heart, there is no scope! | 15 |
| All other places made for body’s ease, | |
| As bed, field, forest, and a quiet chamber; | |
| There, ever am I, with sad cares oppresst! | |
| Each pleasant spectacle doth me displease! | |
| Grief and Despair so sore on me did seize, | 20 |
| That day, with tediousness, doth me molest! | |
| And PHŒBE, carried in her couch of amber, | |
| Cannot close up the fountains of my woe! | |
| Thus days from nights, my chargèd heart doth not know; | |
| Nor nights, from days! All hours, to sorrows go! | 25 |
| Then punish Fancy! cause of thy disease! | | | | |
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