GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 3 by RICHARD BARNFIELD

Yee dainty Damsels of Dianes Traine,
That long to dally, with your loved Lords:
And you brave Gallant, high resolved Lords.
That love to gaze, upon your stately Starrs.
He he is dead, that kild you with disdaine:
And often fedde your friendly hopes againe.

He he is dead, that wrote of your delights:
That wrote of Ladies, and of Parramours:
Of budding beautie, and hir branched leaves,
Of sweet content in royall Nuptialls.
He he is dead, that kild you with disdaine:
And often fed your friendly hopes againe.

His gadding Muse, although it ran of love,
Yet did hee sweetly morralize, his songs:
Ne ever gave the looser cause to laugh,
Ne men of Iudgment, for to be offended.
But as he often kild them with disdaine:
So did he often feede their hopes againe.

And though he often told of things to come.
In love more like a Prophet than a Poet:
Yet did he wisely interlace the one,
With Sages sayings, ever mixt among.
And though he often fedde their pleasing paine:
Yet did he often kill them with disdaine.

Wherefore yee dainty Damsels of renowne,
That long to dallie, with your loved Lords:
And you brave Gallant, worthy noble Lords,
That love to dandle in your Ladies lapps.
Come hither come, and lend your mouths to Fame:
That meanes to sound, his never dying name.

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