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I know how loue doth rage vpon a yelding minde: How smal a net may take and meash a hart of gentle kinde: (45) Or els with seldom swete to season heapes of gall: +Reuiued with a glimse of grace old sorowes to let fal, The hidden traines I know and secret snares of loue: How soone a loke wil print a thought, that neuer may remoue. The slipper state I know, the sodein turnes from wealth, (50) The doubtful hope, the certain woe, and sure despeire of health.
Complaint of a louer, that defied
loue, and was by loue after
the more tor-
mented. +
W Hen sommer toke in hand the winter to assail, With force of might, & vertue gret, his stormy blasts to quail, And when he clothed faire the earth about with grene, And euery tree new garmented, that pleasure was to sene: (5) Mine hart gan new reuiue, and changed blood did sturMe to withdrawe my winter woes, that kept within the dore. A brode, quod my desire: assay to set thy fote, Where thou shalt finde the sauour swete: for sprong is euery rote. And to thy health, if thou were sick in any case, (10) Nothing more good, than in the spring the aire to fele a space. There shalt thou heare and se all kindes of birdes ywrought, Well tune their voice with warble smal, as nature hath them tought. Thus pricked me my lust the sluggish house to leaue: And for my health I thought it best such counsail to receaue. (15) So on a morow furth, vnwist of any wight. I went to proue how weil it would my heauy burden light. And when I felt the aire so pleasant round about, Lord, to my self how glad I was that I had gotten out. There might I se how Ver had euery blossom hent: (20) And eke the new betrothed birdes ycoupled how they went. +And in their songes me thought they thanked nature much, That by her licence all that yere to loue their happe was such, Right as they could deuise to chose them feres throughout: With much reioysing to their Lord thus flew the
y al about. (25) Which when I gan to resolue, and in my head conceaue, What pleasant life, what heapes of ioy these litle birdes receaue.
y al about. (25) Which when I gan to resolue, and in my head conceaue, What pleasant life, what heapes of ioy these litle birdes receaue.