Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BALLADE: 11, by THOMAS WYATT



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BALLADE: 11, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Though this the port and I thy servant true
Last Line: Forget me not, en vogant la galere.
Alternate Author Name(s): Wyat, Thomas
Subject(s): Longing


Though this the port and I thy servant true,
And thou thyself dost cast thy beams from high
From thy chief house, promising to renew
Both joy and eke delight, behold yet how that I,
Banished from my bliss, carefully do cry,
"Help now, Cytherea, my lady dear,
My fearful trust, en vogant la galere."

Alas the doubt that dreadful absence giveth!
Without thine aid, assurance is there none.
The firm faith that in the water fleeteth
Succor thou therefore: in thee it is alone.
Stay that with faith that faithfully doth moan,
And thou also givest me both hope and fear,
Remember thou me, en vogant la galere.

By seas and hills elonged from thy sight,
Thy wonted grace reducing to my mind,
Instead of sleep thus I occupy the night;
A thousand thoughts and many doubts I find,
And still I trust thou canst not be unkind;
Or else despair my comfort and my cheer
Would she forthwith, en vogant la galere.

Yet on my faith, full little doth remain
Of any hope whereby I may myself uphold;
For since that only words do me retain,
I may well think the affection is but cold.
But since my will is nothing as I would,
But in thy hands it resteth whole and clear,
Forget me not, en vogant la galere.





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