Classic Poem

Ay me! vnhappy, thus to minde her rarieties,
To which all hearts and eyes did owe their feauty,
Whiles all her vertues (as contesting parties;)
Doe now vpbraid me with the breach of duty,
For had she not beene of such birth and beauty;
And alwayes matchlesse-excellent, God knowes,
Her mischiefes had beene lesse, and lesse my woes.

For, oh! this grieues me more then death ten-fold,
To thinke that one of such desert must dye,
And that I haue not power to controul't,
Yea that I must the author thereof be,
Oh wondrous! wondrous contrariety!
Oh wofull chance! griefe past compare to giue
Death to that life, by which I onely liue.

Oh this it is torments my martyr'd minde,
That my vnhappy destiny is such,
To prooue most cruell, where I would most kinde:
Is this th' effect? o gods! of louing much,
If it be so, let neuer loue more touch
The plagued heart of such a wofull wretch,
Curst be that loue that cruelty doth hatch.

Sweete Sophonisba , when thou shalt receiue,
That hatefull potion, which I now haue sent thee;
It will not grieue thee halfe so much to leaue
(I know the heauens so great a spirit haue lent thee)
Thy lingring life, as that it will repent thee,
Thou was not kild in that vnhappy day,
When in proud Cyrtha thou became my prey.

For had thou then by rage of victors wrath,
Beene cruelly kild by force of Sword or Dart,
More happy thrice had beene thy haplesse death,
And gladlier might thy Ghost to Styx depart,
Nor left to dye by one to whom thy heart
Thou gaue in pledge of liberty and life,
Who sau'd a captiue Queene to kill a wife.

But now to die when life was most assur'd
By oath and promise seal'd with wedlockes knot,
An heauy burdning n'ere to be indur'd,
Detested fact which cannot be forgott,
Haynous offence which neuer Time shall blot:
But that it shall, by all-relating fame,
Fly through the world to my eternall shame.

Why did I not fore-warne thee at thy taking,
Freely to death or bondage to giue place?
But then (alas) was no such bargaine making,
For the nere-like-seene beauty of thy face,
Bewitcht me then with such inchanting grace,
That in despite of all the Romane swords,
I vow'd thy safety and defence by words.

Which oh! hath prou'd a weake and strengthlesse vow,
Affoording nothing vnto thee but death:
For had thou daign'd thy haughty heart to bow
To th' meanest souldier that our Legions hath,
He rather would haue sacrifiz'd his breath,
Or that he would haue suffered thee to bee
Vs'd by constraint, much lesse haue seene thee die.

But I much more then common souldiers be:
A Captaine, a Commander, and a King,
Whom Fortune in her grace aduanc'd so high,
That mighty Princes I to bands did bring,
Cannot (alas) O to be wondred thing!
Thee poore distressed Dame from bondage shield,
Who to none liuing but my selfe would yeeld.

Thou neither life, nor kingdome didst implore,
Nor yet thy husband Syphax his releefe,
Nor that they would thy royalty restore,
Nor that thy followers might auoide mischiefe,
No, haplesse Queene, this was thy onely griefe,
And wofull sute, that to no Romaine borne,
Thou might be giu'n to liue in feruile scorne.