Could I again be brought to love
Thy form, though more divine,
I might thy scorn as justly move
As now thou sufferest mine.20
The Loss.
Yet ere I go,
Disdainful Beauty, thou shalt be
So wretched as to know
What joys thou fling’st away with me:
A faith so bright,5
As Time or Fortune could not rust,
So firm, that lovers might
Have read thy story in my dust,
And crown’d thy name
With laurel verdant as thy youth.10
Whilst the shrill voice of Fame
Spread wide thy beauty and my truth.
This thou hast lost!
For all true lovers, when they find
That my just aims were crossed,15
Will speak thee lighter than the wind;
And none will lay
Any oblation on thy shrine,
But such as would betray
Their[56:1] faith to faiths as false as thine.20
Yet if thou choose
On such thy freedom to bestow,
Affection may excuse:
For love from sympathy doth flow.