So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced; I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne; So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne. Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed So greet beaute, that no man may atteyne To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne. So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A WATERFOWL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO A MISTRESS DYING by WILLIAM DAVENANT THE PHANTOM SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A DUTCH PROVERB by MATTHEW PRIOR CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE NIGHTFALL (1) by WYSTAN HUGH AUDEN CALMNESS OF THE SUBLIME by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 9. OF HUMILITY by WILLIAM BASSE |