Tixall Poetry/Constancy

by unknown author

IX.

Constancy.

 

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Reproach me not, though heretofore
I only freedom did adore;
And brag'd that none, though kind, though faire,
The losse of mine could ere repaire;
Since I now willingly do yield
To Cloe's beauty all the field.

With greater ioy I did resigne
My freedome, though thou still keepst thine:
And am resolv'd constant to prove,
Should her neglect transend my love.
Strange charmes they are that make me burne,
Without the hope of a returne!

To see her, and not be in love,
A wonder like her selfe might prove:
Her charmes by vertue and by art,
Doth each of them deserve a hart.
For this my sorrowes are not small,
I have but one to pay them all.

Her eyes the fiercest hart out brave,
At once delight us and enslave;
Thou couldst not sure once look on them,
But act what now thou dost condemne.
Who then can that assault abide,
When fate doth strike on beauties side?

Her speaking to is much more free
Then after that her hearers bee;
And her voice is soe sweete and cleere,
That she inspires love through the eare.
Tis vaine to thinke of a defence,
Since she hath charmes for every sence.

I must confesse, awhile I strove,
By reason, to subdue my love;
As saints sometimes 'gainst death doe pray,
Though tis to heaven the nearest way.
Tis Cloe only hath the skill
To make me blest against my will.

No will I soe much as indure
To think unconstancy a cure,
For were I unto that sin bent,
It now would prove my punishment:
Here to adore, I must confesse
Is better then els where successe.