Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 15. TROCHAIC VERSE: THE ELEVENTH EPIGRAM, by THOMAS CAMPION



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OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 15. TROCHAIC VERSE: THE ELEVENTH EPIGRAM, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: His late loss the wiveless higs in order
Last Line: Hadst no heart I think, I know no liver.
Subject(s): Murder; Loss; Marriage


His late loss the wiveless Higs in order
Everywhere bewails to friends, to strangers;
Tells them how by night a youngster armed
Sought his wife (as hand in hand he held her)
With drawn sword to force; she cried, he mainly
Roaring ran for aid, but (ah), returning,
Fled was with the prize the beauty-forcer,
Whom in vain he seeks, he threats, he follows.
Changed is Helen, Helen hugs the stranger
Safe as Paris in the Greek triumphing.
Therewith his reports to tears he turneth,
Pierced through with the lovely dame's remembrance;
Straight he sighs, he raves, his hair he teareth,
Forcing pity still by fresh lamenting.
Cease, unworthy, worthy of thy fortunes.
Thou that couldst so fair a prize deliver,
For fear unregarded, undefended,
Hadst no heart I think, I know no liver.





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