Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NEVER TOO LATE: FRANCESCO'S ROUNDELAY, by ROBERT GREENE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NEVER TOO LATE: FRANCESCO'S ROUNDELAY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Sitting and sighing in my secret muse
Last Line: "wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
Subject(s): Beauty; Love - Complaints; Man-woman Relationships; Men; Women; Youth; Male-female Relations


SITTING and sighing in my secret muse,
As once Apollo did surpris'd with love,
Noting the slippery ways young years do use,
What fond affects the prime of youth do move;
With bitter tears, despairing I do cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
When wanton age, the blossom of my time,
Drew me to gaze upon the gorgeous sight
That beauty, pompous in her highest prime,
Presents to tangle men with sweet delight;
Then with despairing tears my thoughts did cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
When I survey'd the riches of her looks,
Whereout flew flames of never-quench'd desire,
Wherein lay baits that Venus snares with hooks,
Or where proud Cupid sat all-arm'd with fire;
Then, touch'd with love, my inward soul did cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
The milk-white galaxia of her brow,
Where Love doth dance lavoltas of his skill,
Like to the temple where true lovers vow
To follow what shall please their mistress' will;
Nothing her ivory front, now do I cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
Her face, like silver Luna in her shine,
All tainted through with bright vermilion stains,
Like lilies dipt in Bacchus' choicest wine,
Powder'd and interseam'd with azur'd veins;
Delighting in their pride, now may I cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
The golden wires that checker in the day
Inferior to the tresses of her hair,
Her amber trammels did my heart dismay,
That, when I look'd, I durst not over-dare;
Proud of her pride, now am I forc'd to cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
These fading beauties drew me on to sin,
Nature's great riches fram'd my bitter ruth;
These were the traps that love did snare me in,
O, these, and none but these, have wreck'd my youth!
Misled by them, I may despairing cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"
By these I slipp'd from virtue's holy track,
That leads unto the highest crystal sphere;
By these I fell to vanity and wrack,
And as a man forlorn with sin and fear,
Despair and sorrow do constrain me cry,
"Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eye!"





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