Thomas Wyatt

I cannot * * * say that Pan Passeth Apollo in music manyfold; Praisé Sir Thopas for a noble tale, And scorn the story that the Knighté told.

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 …

Whoso list to hunt? I know where is an hind!

And I have leave to go, of her goodness; And she also to use new-fangleness.

When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall, And she me caught in her arms long and small, "Therewith all sweetly did me kiss And softly said: "Dear heart, how like you this?"

They flee from me that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild, and do not remember That sometime they have put themselves in danger To take bread at my hand; …

Can ye say nay, But that you said That I alway Should be obeyed? And thus betrayed, Or that I wist!

What should I say? Since Faith is dead, And Truth away From you is fled?

My lute, awake! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done.

Behold love, thy power how she despiseth: My great pain, how little she regardeth The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure Broken she hath: and yet she bideth sure Right at her ease, and little she dreadeth.

And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay! for shame! To save thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame. And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!

Forget not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant; My great travail so gladly spent, Forget not yet!