| Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904. | | | | Phillis | | Sonnet XXIII. Burst, burst, poor heart! Thou hast no longer hope | | Thomas Lodge (1558–1625) |
| | | BURST, burst, poor heart! Thou hast no longer hope; | |
| Captive mine eyes unto eternal sleep; | |
| Let all my senses have no further scope; | |
| Let death be lord of me and all my sheep! | |
| For Phillis hath betrothèd fierce disdain, | 5 |
| That makes his mortal mansion in her heart; | |
| And though my tongue have long time taken pain | |
| To sue divorce and wed her to desert. | |
| She will not yield, my words can have no power; | |
| She scorns my faith, she laughs at my sad lays, | 10 |
| She fills my soul with never-ceasing sour, | |
| Who filled the world with volumes of her praise. | |
| In such extremes what wretch can cease to crave | |
| His peace from death, who can no mercy have! | | | | |
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