(25) My case with Phebus may compare, His hap and mine are one, I cry to her that knowes no eare, Yet seke I to her most: When I approche then is she gone, (30) Thus is my labour lost. Now blame not me but blame the shaft, That hath the golden head, And blame those gods that with their craft Such arrowes forge by kinde. (35) And blame the cold and heauy lead, That doth my ladies minde.
A praise of m. M. +
I N court as I behelde, the beauty of eche dame, Of right my thought from all the rest should .M. steale the same, +But, er I ment to iudge: I vewed with such aduise. As retchlesse dome should not inuade: the boundes of my deuise, (5) And, whiles I gased long: such heat did brede within, As Priamus towne + felt not more flame, when did the bale begin. By reasons rule ne yet by wit perceue I could, That .M, face of earth yfound: enioy such beauty should. And fansy doubted that from heauen had Uenus come, (10) To norish rage in Britaynes harts, while corage yet doth blome, Her natiue hue so stroue, with colour of the rose, That Paris would haue Helene left, and .M. beauty chose. A wight farre passyng all, and is more faire to seme, +Then lusty May the lodg of loue: that clothes the earth in grene. (15) So angell like she shines: she semeth no mortall wight, But one whom nature in her forge, did frame her self to spight. Of beauty princesse chiefe: so makelesse doth she rest, Whose eye would glad an heauy wight: and pryson payne in brest, I waxe astonied to see: the feator of her shape, (20) And wondred that a mortal hart: such heauenly beames could scape Her limmes so answeryng were: the mould of her faire face, Of Uenus stocke she semde to spring, the rote of beauties grace. Her presens doth pretende: such honour and estate, That simple men might gesse her birthe: if folly bred debate. (25) Her lokes in hartes of flint: would such affectes imprese, As rage of flame not Nilus stremes: in Nestors yeres encrease.