Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/349

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TILL LEATH I SYLVIA MUST ADORE.
331
I am with little well content,
And a little from thee sent
Is enough with true intent,
    To be steadfast friend.

Say thou lov'st me while thou live,
I to thee my love will give,
Never dreaming to deceive
    While that life endures:
Nay, and after death, in sooth,
I to thee will keep my truth,
As now, when in my May of youth,
    This my love assures.

Constant love is moderate ever,
And it will through life persever;
Give me that, with true endeavour
    I will it restore.
A suit of durance let it be,
For all weathers; that for me,
For the land or for the sea,
    Lasting evermore.

Winter's cold or summer's heat,
Autumn's tempest on it beat,
It can never know defeat,
    Never can rebel.
Such the love that I would gain,
Such the love I tell thee plain,
Thou must give, or woo in vain;
    So to thee farewell.
 1570.

Till Death I Sylvia Must Adore.
Till death I Sylvia must adore;
No time my freedom can restore;
For though her rigour makes me smart,
Yet when I try to free my heart,
Straight all my senses take her part.

And when against the cruel maid
I call my reason to my aid;
By that, alas! I plainly see
That nothing lovely is but she;
And reason captivates me more,
Than all my senses did before.
 1726.

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