Verse > Sir Thomas Wyatt > Poetical Works
Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42).  The Poetical Works.  1880.
The neglected Lover calleth on his stony hearted Mistress to hear him complain ere that he die
  HEAVEN, and earth, and all that hear me plain
Do well perceive what care doth make me cry;
Save you alone, to whom I cry in vain;
Mercy, Madam, alas! I die, I die!
  If that you sleep, I humbly you require        5
Forbear awhile, and let your rigour slake,
Since that by you I burn thus in this fire;
To hear my plaint, dear heart, awake! awake!
  Since that so oft ye have made me to wake
In plaint, and tears, and in right piteous case;        10
Displease you not if force do now me make
To break your sleep, crying alas! alas!
  It is the last trouble that ye shall have
Of me, Madam, to hear my last complaint;
Pity at least your poor unhappy slave,        15
For in despair, alas! I faint, I faint.
  It is not now, but long and long ago
I have you served, as to my power and might
As faithfully as any man might do;
Claiming of you nothing of right, of right.        20
  Save of your grace only to stay my life
That fleeth as fast as cloud before the wind;
For since that first I entered in this strife,
An inward death hath fret my mind, my mind.
  If I had suffered this to you unware        25
Mine were the fault, and you nothing to blame;
But since you know my woe and all my care,
Why do I die, alas! for shame! for shame!
  I know right well my face, my look, my tears,
Mine eyes, my words, and eke my dreary chere        30
Have cried my death full oft unto your ears;
Hard of belief it doth appear, appear.
  A better proof I see that ye would have;
How I am dead, therefore, when ye hear tell
Believe it not, although ye see my grave;        35
Cruel! unkind! I say farewell! farewell!

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