Lovers, lament! You that have truly loved!
For Philoparthen, now, hath lost his love:
The greatest loss that ever lover proved.
O let his hard hap some compassion move!
Who had not rued the loss of her so much;
But that he knows the world yields no more such.
LXIII.
Upon the ocean of conceited error,
My weary spirits, many storms have past;
Which now in harbour, free from wonted terror,
Joy the possession of their rest at last.
And, henceforth, safely may they lie at road!
And never rove for "Had I wist!" abroad!
Love's Accusation at the Judgement Seat of Reason; wherein the Author's whole success in his love is covertly deciphered.
[Compare this, with Gascoigne's poem, Vol. I. p. 63.]
In Reason's Court, myself being Plaintiff there,
Love was, by process, summoned to appear.
That so the wrongs, which he had done to me,
Might be made known; and all the world might see:
And seeing, rue what to my cost I proved;
While faithful, but unfortunate I loved.