Verse > Sir Thomas Wyatt > Poetical Works
Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42).  The Poetical Works.  1880.
The Lover rejoiceth against Fortune that by hindering his suit had happily made him forsake his Folly
  IN faith I wot not what to say,
Thy chances been so wonderous,
Thou Fortune, with thy divers play
That makest the joyful dolorous,
And eke the same right joyous.        5
Yet though thy chain hath me enwrapt,
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well hapt.
  Though thou has set me for a wonder,
And seekest by change to do me pain:
Men’s minds yet mayst thou not so order;        10
For honesty, if it remain,
Shall shine for all thy cloudy rain.
In vain thou seekest to have me trapped;
Spite of thy hap, hap hath well hapt.
  In hindering me, me didst thou further;        15
And made a gap, where was a stile:
Cruel wills been oft put under;
Weening to lour, then didst thou smile:
Lord, how thyself thou didst beguile,
That in thy cares wouldst me have wrapt?        20
But spite of hap, hap hath well hapt.

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