Tell me, when shall these wearie woes have end, Or shall their ruthlesse torment never cease, But al my dayes in pining languor spend, Without hope of aswagement or release? Is there no meanes for me to purchace peace, Or make agreement with her thrilling eyes: But that their cruelty doth still increace, And dayly more augment my miseryes? But when ye have shewed all extremityes, Then thinke how litle glory ye have gayned By slaying him, whose lyfe though ye despyse, Mote have your life in honour long maintayned. But by his death, which some perhaps will mone, Ye shall condemned be of many a one. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FELDMESTEN OR MEASURING THE GRAVES by ALTER ABELSON HAUNTED by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 37. NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ON THE TRAIN by RUTH NOEL BENNETT PSALM 148 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: IMR EL KAIS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 32. EXHORTING HER TO PATIENCE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |