ANONYMOUS
But my vain Hopes, proud of their new-taught flight, Enamour'd sought to woo the sun's fair light,
Whose rich brightness
Moved their lightness
To aspire so high
That, all scorch'd and consumed with fire, now drown'd in woe they lie.
And none but Love their woeful hap did rue, For Love did know that their desires were true;
Though Fate frowned,
And now drowned
They in sorrow dwell, It was the purest light of heav'n for whose fair love they fell.
��Madrigal
Davison's Poetical Rhapsody , 1602.
MY Love in her attire doth show her wit, It doth so well become her, For every season she hath dressings fit, For Winter, Spring, and Summer. No beauty she doth mibS
When all her robes arc on: But Beauty's self she is
When all her robes are gone.
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