Verse > Anthologies > Elizabethan Sonnets > Diella
Seccombe and Arber, comps.  Elizabethan Sonnets.  1904.
Sonnet XXIII. My life’s preserver! hope of my heart’s bliss!
Richard Linche (fl. 1596–1601)
MY life’s preserver! hope of my heart’s bliss!
  when shall I know the doom of life or death?
Hell’s fearful torments easier are, than this
  soul’s agony, wherein I now do breathe.
If thou wouldst look! this my tear-stainèd face,        5
  dreary and wan, far differing from what it was,
Would well reveal my most tormentful case,
  and shew thy Fair, my Grief as in a glass.
Look, as a deer late wounded very sore,
  among the herd, full heavily doth feed;        10
So do I live! expecting evermore,
  when as my wounded heart should cease to bleed.
How patient then, would I endure the smart
Of pitchy-countenanced Death’s dead-doing dart!

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