Page:An English Garner Ingatherings from Our History and Literature (Volume 1 1877).pdf/573

Thou then whom partial heavens conspired in one to frame
The proof of beauty's worth, th'inheritrix of fame,
The mansion seat of bliss, and just excuse of lovers:
See now those feathers pluckt, wherewith thou flew most high!
See what clouds of reproach shall dark thy honour's sky!
Whose own fault casts him down, hardly high seat recovers.

And O my Muse! though oft you lulled her in your lap;
And then a heavenly child, gave her ambrosian pap;
And to that brain of hers, your hidnest gifts infused!
Since she disdaining me, doth you in me disdain;
Suffer not her to laugh, while both we suffer pain.
Princes in subjects wronged, must deem themselves abused.

Your client poor, my self; shall STELLA handle so?
Revenge! revenge! my Muse! Defiance trumpet blow!
Threaten what maybe done! yet do more than you threaten!
Ah! my suit granted is. I feel my breast doth swell.
Now child! a lesson new you shall begin to spell.
Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girls must be beaten.

Think now no more to hear of warm fine-odoured snow,
Nor blushing lilies, nor pearls ruby-hidden row,
Nor of that golden sea whose waves in curls are broken:
But of thy soul, so fraught with such ungratefulness,
As where thou soon might'st help; most faith thou dost oppress.
Ungrateful who is called, the worst of evils is spok'n.