A Lover's Complaint
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From off a hill whose concave womb reworded | 1
A plaintful story from a sistering vale, | 2
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, | 3
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; | 4
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, | 5
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, | 6
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. | 7
| Upon her head a platted hive of straw, | 8
Which fortified her visage from the sun, | 9
Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw | 10
The carcass of beauty spent and done: | 11
Time had not scythed all that youth begun, | 12
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, | 13
Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age. | 14
| Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, | 15
Which on it had conceited characters, | 16
Laundering the silken figures in the brine | 17
That season'd woe had pelleted in tears, | 18
And often reading what contents it bears; | 19
As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe, | 20
In clamours of all size, both high and low. | 21
| Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride, | 22
As they did battery to the spheres intend; | 23
Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied | 24
To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend | 25
Their view right on; anon their gazes lend | 26
To every place at once, and, nowhere fix'd, | 27
The mind and sight distractedly commix'd. | 28
| Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, | 29
Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride | 30
For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat, | 31
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; | 32
Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, | 33
And true to bondage would not break from thence, | 34
Though slackly braided in loose negligence. | 35
| A thousand favours from a maund she drew | 36
Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, | 37
Which one by one she in a river threw, | 38
Upon whose weeping margent she was set; | 39
Like usury, applying wet to wet, | 40
Or monarch's hands that let not bounty fall | 41
Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. | 42
| Of folded schedules had she many a one, | 43
Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood; | 44
Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone | 45
Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; | 46
Found yet moe letters sadly penn'd in blood, | 47
With sleided silk feat and affectedly | 48
Enswathed, and seal'd to curious secrecy. | 49
| These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, | 50
And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear: | 51
Cried 'O false blood, thou register of lies, | 52
What unapproved witness dost thou bear! | 53
Ink would have seem'd more black and damned here!' | 54
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, | 55
Big discontent so breaking their contents. | 56
| A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh-- | 57
Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew | 58
Of court, of city, and had let go by | 59
The swiftest hours, observed as they flew-- | 60
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew, | 61
And, privileged by age, desires to know | 62
In brief the grounds and motives of her woe. | 63
| So slides he down upon his grained bat, | 64
And comely-distant sits he by her side; | 65
When he again desires her, being sat, | 66
Her grievance with his hearing to divide: | 67
If that from him there may be aught applied | 68
Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, | 69
'Tis promised in the charity of age. | 70
| 'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold | 71
The injury of many a blasting hour, | 72
Let it not tell your judgment I am old; | 73
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: | 74
I might as yet have been a spreading flower, | 75
Fresh to myself, If I had self-applied | 76
Love to myself and to no love beside. | 77
| 'But, woe is me! too early I attended | 78
A youthful suit--it was to gain my grace-- | 79
Of one by nature's outwards so commended, | 80
That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face: | 81
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place; | 82
And when in his fair parts she did abide, | 83
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