15 Sir Thomas Wyatt

The long love that in
my thought doth harbor

  • From fairest creatures we desire increase,
  • That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,
  • But as the riper should by time decease,
  • His tender heir might bear his memory:
  • But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
  • Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel,
  • Making a famine where abundance lies,
  • Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
  • Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament,
  • And only herald to the gaudy spring,
  • Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
  • And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding:
  • Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
  • To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.
  • Whoso list to hunt

  • Whoso list to hunt ? I know where is an hind !
  • But as for me, alas ! I may no more,
  • The vain travail hath wearied me so sore ;
  • I am of them that furthest come behind.
  • Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
  • Draw from the deer ; but as she fleeth afore
  • Fainting I follow ; I leave off therefore,
  • Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
  • Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt
  • As well as I, may spend his time in vain !
  • And graven with diamonds in letters plain,
  • There is written her fair neck round about ;
  • ‘Noli me tangere ; for Cæsar’s I am,
  • And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.’
  • Farewell, Love

  • FairwellL, Love, and all thy laws for ever ;
  • Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.
  • Senec, and Plato, call me from thy lore,
  • To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour ;
  • In blind error when I did persever,
  • Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore,
  • Taught me in trifles that I set no store ;
  • But scaped forth thence, since, liberty is lever
  • Therefore, farewell ! go trouble younger hearts,
  • And in me claim no more authority :
  • With idle youth go use thy property,
  • And thereon spend thy many brittle darts :
  • For, hitherto though I have lost my time,
  • Me list no longer rotten boughs to clime.
  • I find no peace

  • I find no peace, and all my war is done ;
  • I fear and hope, I burn, and freeze like ice ;
  • I fly aloft, yet can I not arise;
  • And nought I have, and all the world I seize on,
  • That locks nor loseth, holdeth me in prison,
  • And holds me not, yet can I scape no wise:
  • Nor lets me live, nor die, at my devise,
  • And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
  • Without eye I see ; without tongue I plain :
  • I wish to perish, yet I ask for health ;
  • I love another, and thus I hate myself ;
  • I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.
  • Lo, thus displeaseth me both death and life,
  • And my delight is causer of this strife.
  • My galley

  • My galley chargèd with forgetfulness
  • Thorough sharp seas, in winter nights doth pass
  • ‘Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas,
  • That is my lord, steereth with cruelness,
  • And every oar a thought in readiness,
  • As though that death were light in such a case.
  • An endless wind doth tear the sail apace
  • Of forcèd sighs and trusty fearfulness.
  • A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain,
  • Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance;
  • Wreathèd with error and eke with ignorance.
  • The stars be hid that led me to this pain.
  • Drownèd is reason that should me consort,
  • And I remain despairing of the port.
  • Divers doth use

  • Divers doth use, as I have heard and know,
  • When that to change their ladies do begin,
  • To mourn and wail, and never for to lynn,
  • Hoping thereby to ‘pease their painful woe.
  • And some there be that when it chanceth so
  • That women change, and hate where love hath been,
  • They call them false, and think with words to win
  • The hearts of them which otherwhere doth grow.
  • But as for me, though that by chance indeed
  • Change hath outworn the favour that I had,
  • I will not wail, lament, nor yet be sad,
  • Nor call her false that falsely did me feed ;
  • But let it pass, and think it is of kind
  • That often change doth please a woman’s mind.
  • What vaileth truth?

  • What ‘vaileth truth, or by it to take pain ?
  • To strive by steadfastness for to attain
  • How to be just, and flee from doubleness ?
  • Since all alike, where ruleth craftiness,
  • Rewarded is both crafty, false, and plain.
  • Soonest he speeds that most can lie and feign :
  • True meaning heart is had in high disdain.
  • Against deceit and cloaked doubleness,
  • What ‘vaileth truth, or perfect steadfastness ?
  • Deceived is he by false and crafty train,
  • That means no guile, and faithful doth remain
  • Within the trap, without help or redress :
  • But for to love, lo, such a stern mistress,
  • Where cruelty dwells, alas, it were in vain.
  • What ‘vaileth truth !
  • Madam, withouten many words

  • As an unperfect actor on the stage,
  • Madam, withouten many words,
  • Once I am sure you will, or no :
  • And if you will, then leave yourbourds,
  • And use your wit, and shew it so,
  • For, with a beck you shall me call ;
  • And if of one, that burns alway,
  • Ye have pity or ruth at all,
  • Answer him fair, with yea or nay.
  • If it be yea, I shall be fain ;
  • If it be nay—friends, as before ;
  • You shall another man obtain,
  • And I mine own, and yours no more.
  • They flee from me

  • They flee from me, that sometime did me seek,
  • With naked foot stalking within mychamber:
  • Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
  • That now are wild, and do not once remember,
  • That sometime they have put themselves in danger
  • To take bread at my hand ; and now they range
  • Busily seeking in continual change.
  • Thanked be Fortune, it hath been otherwise
  • Twenty times better ; but once especial,
  • In thin array, after a pleasant guise,
  • When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall,
  • And she me caught in her arms long and small,
  • And therewithal sweetly did me kiss,
  • And softly said, ‘ Dear heart, how like you this ?’
  • It was no dream ; for I lay broad awaking:
  • But all is turn’d now through my gentleness,
  • Into a bitter fashion of forsaking;
  • And I have leave to go of her goodness;
  • And she also to use new fangleness.
  • But since that I unkindly so am served:
  • How like you this, what hath she now deserved ?
  • Forget not yet

  • Forget not yet the tried intent
  • Of such a truth as I have meant ;
  • My great travail so gladly spent,
  • Forget not yet !
  • Forget not yet when first began
  • The weary life ye know, since whan
  • The suit, the service none tell can ;
  • Forget not yet !
  • Forget not yet the great assays,
  • The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,
  • The painful patience in delays,
  • Forget not yet !
  • Forget not ! oh ! forget not this,
  • How long ago hath been, and is
  • The mind that never meant amiss
  • Forget not yet !
  • Forget not then thine own approv’d,
  • The which so long hath thee so lov’d,
  • Whose steadfast faith yet never mov’d :
  • Forget not this !
  • Blame not my lute

  • Blame not my Lute ! for he must sound
  • Of this or that as liketh me ;
  • For lack of wit the Lute is bound
  • To give such tunes as pleaseth me ;
  • Though my songs be somewhat strange,
  • And speak such words as touch thy change,
  • Blame not my Lute !
  • My Lute ! alas ! doth not offend,
  • Though that perforce he must agree
  • To sound such tunes as I intend,
  • To sing to them that heareth me ;
  • Then though my songs be somewhat plain,
  • And toucheth some that use to feign,
  • Blame not my Lute !
  • My Lute and strings may not deny
  • But as I strike they must obey ;
  • Break not them then so wrongfully,
  • But wreak thyself some other way ;
  • And though the songs which I indite
  • Do quit thy change with rightful spite,
  • Blame not my Lute !
  • Spite asketh spite, and changing change,
  • And falsèd faith must needs be known ;
  • The fault so great, the case so strange ;
  • Of right it must abroad be blown :
  • Then since that by thine own desart
  • My songs do tell how true thou art,
  • Blame not my Lute !
  • Blame but thyself that hast misdone,
  • And well deservèd to have blame ;
  • Change thou thy way, so evil begone,
  • And then my Lute shall sound that same ;
  • But if ’till then my fingers play,
  • By thy desert their wonted way,
  • Blame not my Lute !
  • Farewell ! unknown ; for though thou break
  • My strings in spite with great disdain,
  • Yet have I found out for thy sake,
  • Strings for to string my Lute again :
  • And if, perchance, this sely rhyme
  • Do make thee blush, at any time,
  • Blame not my Lute !
  • Stand whoso list

  • Stand, whoso list, upon the slipper wheel
  • Of high estate ; and let me here rejoice,
  • And use my life in quietness each dele,*
  • Unknown in court that hath the wanton toys :
  • In hidden place my time shall slowly pass,
  • And when my years be past withouten noise,
  • Let me die old after the common trace ;
  • For gripes of death doth he too hardly pass,
  • That knowen is to all, but to himself, alas,
  • He dieth unknown, dasèd with dreadful face.
  • Who list his wealth
    and ease retain

  • Who list his wealth and ease retain,
  • Himself let him unknown contain.
  • Press not too fast in at that gate
  • Where the return stands by disdain:
  • For sure, circa regna tonat.
  • The high mountains are blasted oft
  • When the low valley is mild and soft.
  • Fortune with Health stands at debate.
  • The fall is grievous from aloft.
  • And sure, circa regna tonat.
  • These bloody days have broken my heart.
  • My lust, my youth did then depart,
  • And blind desire of estate.
  • Who hastes to climb seeks to revert.
  • Of truth, circa regna tonat.
  • The Bell Tower showed me such sight
  • That in my head sticks day and night.
  • There did I learn of of a grate
  • For all favor, glory, or might,
  • That yet circa regna tonat.
  • By proof, I say, there did I learn:
  • Wit helpeth not defense to yerne,
  • Of innocence to plead or prate.
  • Bear low, therefore, give God the stern,
  • For sure, circa regna tonat.
  • Mine own John Roins

  • Mine own John Poynz, since ye delight to know
  • The cause why that homeward I me draw,
  • And flee the press of courts, whereso they go,
  • Rather than to live thrall under the awe
  • Of lordly looks, wrappèd within my cloak,
  • To will and lust learning to set a law:
  • It is not for because I scorn or mock
  • The power of them, to whom fortune hath lent
  • Charge over us, of right, to strike the stroke.
  • But true it is that I have always meant
  • Less to esteem them than the common sort,
  • Of outward things that judge in their intent
  • Without regard what doth inward resort.
  • I grant sometime that of glory the fire
  • Doth twyche my heart. Me list not to report
  • Blame by honour, and honour to desire.
  • But how may I this honour now attain,
  • That cannot dye the colour black a liar?
  • My Poynz, I cannot from me tune to feign,
  • To cloak the truth for praise without desert
  • Of them that list all vice for to retain.
  • I cannot honour them that sets their part
  • With Venus and Bacchus all their life long;
  • Nor hold my peace of them although I smart.
  • I cannot crouch nor kneel to do so great a wrong,
  • To worship them, like God on earth alone,
  • That are as wolves these sely lambs among.
  • I cannot with my word complain and moan,
  • And suffer nought, nor smart without complaint,
  • Nor turn the word that from my mouth is gone.
  • I cannot speak and look like a saint,
  • Use willes for wit, and make deceit a pleasure,
  • And call craft counsel, for profit still to paint.
  • I cannot wrest the law to fill the coffer
  • With innocent blood to feed myself fat,
  • And do most hurt where most help I offer.
  • I am not he that can allow the state
  • Of him Caesar, and damn Cato to die,
  • That with his death did scape out of the gate
  • From Caesar’s hands (if Livy do not lie)
  • And would not live where liberty was lost;
  • So did his heart the common weal apply.
  • I am not he such eloquence to boast
  • To make the crow singing as the swan;
  • Nor call the liond of cowardes beasts the most
  • That cannot take a mouse as the cat can;
  • And he that dieth for hunger of the gold
  • Call him Alexander; and say that Pan
  • Passeth Apollo in music many fold;
  • Praise Sir Thopias for a noble tale,
  • And scorn the story that the Knight told;
  • Praise him for counsel that is drunk of ale;
  • Grin when he laugheth that beareth all the sway,
  • Frown when he frowneth and groan when is pale;
  • On others’ lust to hang both night and day:
  • None of these points would ever frame in me.
  • My wit is nought—I cannot learn the way.
  • And much the less of things that greater be,
  • That asken help of colours of device
  • To join the mean with each extremity,
  • With the nearest virtue to cloak alway the vice;
  • And as to purpose, likewise it shall fall
  • To press the virtue that it may not rise;
  • As drunkenness good fellowship to call;
  • The friendly foe with his double face
  • Say he is gentle and courteous therewithal;
  • And say that favel hath a goodly grace
  • In eloquence; and cruelty to name
  • Zeal of justice and change in time and place;
  • And he that suffer’th offence without blame
  • Call him pitiful; and him true and plain
  • That raileth reckless to every man’s shame.
  • Say he is rude that cannot lie and feign;
  • The lecher a lover; and tyranny
  • To be the right of a prince’s reign.
  • I cannot, I; no, no, it will not be!
  • This is the cause that I could never yet
  • Hang on their sleeves that way, as thou mayst see,
  • A chip of chance more than a pound of wit.
  • This maketh me at home to hunt and to hawk,
  • And in foul weather at my book to sit;
  • In frost and snow then with my bow to stalk;
  • No man doth mark whereso I ride or go:
  • In lusty leas at liberty I walk.
  • And of these news I feel nor weal nor woe,
  • Save that a clog doth hang yet at my heel.
  • No force for that, for it is ordered so,
  • That I may leap both hedge and dyke full well.
  • I am not now in France to judge the wine,
  • With saffry sauce the delicates to feel;
  • Nor yet in Spain, where one must him incline
  • Rather than to be, outwardly to seem:
  • I meddle not with wits that be so fine.
  • Nor Flanders’ cheer letteth not my sight to deem
  • Of black and white; nor taketh my wit away
  • With beastliness; they beasts do so esteem.
  • Nor I am not where Christ is given in prey
  • For money, poison, and treason at Rome—
  • A common practice used night and day:
  • But here I am in Kent and Christendom
  • Among the Muses where I read and rhyme;
  • Where if thou list, my Poinz, for to come,
  • Thou shalt be judge how I do spend my time.
  • Source:

    Wyatt, Thomas. The Works of Sir Thomas Wyatt. Luminarium. Web. 12 Apr. 2016. <http://www.luminarium.org/renlit/wyattbib.htm>

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