COMPLAINT OF THE LOVER DISDAINED by HENRY HOWARD

In Cyprus springes (wheras dame Venus dwelt)
A well so hote that who so tastes the same,
Were he of stone, as thawed yse shuld melt,
And kindled fynd his brest with secret flame;
Whose moist poison dissolved hath my hate.
This creping fier my cold lymes so oprest
That, in the hart that harbred fredom late,
Endles dispaire long thraldom hath imprest.
One, eke so cold in froson snow is found,
Whose chilling venume of repugnant kind
The fervent heat doth quenche of Cupid's wound,
And with the spote of change infectes the mynd;
Where of my deer hath tasted to my payne.
My service thus is growne into disdayne.

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