Dayly when I do seeke and sew for peace, And hostages doe offer for my truth, She, cruell warriour, doth her selfe addresse To battell, and the weary war renew'th: Ne wilbe moov'd with reason or with rewth, To graunt small respit to my restlesse toile; But greedily her fell intent poursewth, Of my poore life to make unpitteid spoile. Yet my poore life, all sorrowes to assoyle, I would her yield, her wrath to pacify: But then she seekes, with torment and turmoyle, To force me live, and will not let me dy. All paine hath end, and every war hath peace; But mine no price nor prayer may surcease. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAMB, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE A CHILD'S SONG OF CHRISTMAS by MARJORIE LOWRY CHRISTIE PICKTHALL EVEN SO by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER (2) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ERRING IN COMPANY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ADESTE FIDELES by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX TO ROBERT SOUTHEY by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 2. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |