LIX
Do I unto a cruel tiger play,
That preys on
me as wolf upon the lambs,
Who fear the danger
both of night and day
And run for succour
to their tender dams?
Yet will I pray, though she
be ever cruel,
On bended knee
and with submissive heart.
She is the fire
and I must be the fuel;
She must inflict
and I endure the smart.
She must, she shall be mistress
of her will,
And I, poor I,
obedient to the same;
As fit to suffer
death as she to kill;
As ready to be
blamed as she to blame.
And for I am the subject of
her ire,
All men shall know thereby
my love entire.
LX
O let me sigh, weep, wail,
and cry no more;
Or let me sigh, weep, wail,
cry more and more!
Yea, let me sigh, weep, wail,
cry evermore,
For she doth pity my complaints
no more
Than cruel pagan or the savage
Moor;
But still doth add unto my
torments more,
Which grievous are to me by
so much more
As she inflicts them and doth
wish them more.
O let thy mercy, merciless,
be never more!
So shall sweet death to me
be welcome, more
Than is to hungry beasts the
grassy moor,
As she that to affliction
adds yet more,
Becomes more cruel by still
adding more!
Weary am I to speak of this
word “more;”
Yet never weary she, to plague
me more!
LXI
Fidessa’s worth in time
begetteth praise;
Time, praise;
praise, fame; fame, wonderment;
Wonder, fame,
praise, time, her worth do raise
To highest pitch
of dread astonishment.
Yet time in time her hardened
heart bewrayeth
And praise itself
her cruelty dispraiseth.
So that through
praise, alas, her praise decayeth,
And that which
makes it fall her honour raiseth!
Most strange, yet true!
So wonder, wonder still,
And follow fast
the wonder of these days;
For well I know
all wonder to fulfil
Her will at length
unto my will obeys.
Meantime let others praise
her constancy,
And me attend upon her clemency.
LXII
Most true that I must fair
Fidessa love.
Most true that fair Fidessa
cannot love.
Most true that I do feel the
pains of love.
Most true that I am captive
unto love.
Most true that I deluded am
with love.
Most true that I do find the
sleights of love.
Most true that nothing can
procure her love.
Most true that I must perish
in my love.
Most true that she contemns
the god of love.
Most true that he is snared
with her love.
Most true that she would have
me cease to love.
Most true that she herself
alone is love.
Most true that though she
hated, I would love.
Most true that dearest life
shall end with love.