Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
FidessaSonnet XXXIX. My Lady’s hair is threads of beaten gold
Bartholomew Griffin (d. 1602)M
Her front, the purest, crystal eye hath seen.
Her eyes, the brightest stars the heavens hold.
Her cheeks, red roses, such as seld have been.
Her pretty lips, of red vermillion die.
Her hand, of ivory the purest white.
Her blush, A
Her breast displays two silver fountains bright.
The spheres, her voice; her grace, the Graces three.
Her body is the saint that I adore.
Her smiles and favours, sweet as honey be.
Her feet, fair T
But ah, the worst and last is yet behind:
For of a griffon she doth bear the mind!