Classic Poem

S UNNE , cease to shine by day,
restraine thy golden beames:
Let starres refuse to lend their light,
let fish renounce the streames.
Sea, passe thy kindly bounds,
set ebbe and flood aside:
Grasse, leaue to grow, yet gallant plants
depart with all your pride.
Bend Tyber backe againe,
and to thy spring returne:
Let firie coles begin to freeze,
let ise and water burne.
Wolues leaue to slay the Lambs,
hounds hunt the Hare no more:
Be friend to foules, ye hungry haukes,
whom ye pursude before
For kind hath altred course,
the law that nature set
Is broken quite, hir orders skornd,
and bands in sunder sret.
Loue is accounted light,
and friendship forced nought:
My selfe may well proclaime the same,
that loue hath dearly bought.
I fortund once to like
and fansie such a dame:
As sundry serud, but none atchieud,
hir feature wan hir fame
Long sute and great desart,
with triall of my trust,
Did make hir fansie me againe,
she found me perfit iust.
But ere I felt the blisse,
that louers do attaine:
I bode a thousand cruell fits,
ten thousand kinds of paine.
Till ruth by reason grew
and rigor layd apart:
On me she did bestow hir loue,
that best deserued hir hart.
Then mirth gan counterpoise
the griefs I felt before:
And if I had endured smart
I ioyed than the more.
She past me many vowes,
and sundry sorts of hest:
And swore I was the onely wight
whom she did fansie best.
Then happy who but I,
that did beleeue the same?
As who is he that would refuse
to credite such a dame?
O friend, when I (quoth she)
shall alter my good will,
And leaue to loue thee passing well,
thy fansie to fulfill:
When I for gallant gifts,
for mucke or glittring gold:
For comely limmes of courtly knights,
delightfull to behold:
For Kaisars kingly crowne
thy friendship do defie:
O Gods (quoth she) renounce me then,
and let me monster die.
These words and sacred vowes
might quicklie credit gaine:
For who in such a case would glose
or go about to faine?
Yet now, for all hir speech
and glauering talke she vsed,
She is reuolted, and hir friend,
too fowlie hath abusd:
Though not against hir kind,
(for Ladies are but light),
And soone remooue but cleane against
their othes and promise quite.
But what should we expect
from thornes, no Rose perdie:
The figtree yeelds a fig, on vines
the grapes in clusters bee
Which sith I find at last,
though greatly to my paine,
Loe here I do defie the face
in whom such craft doth raigne
Farewell thou shamelesse shrew,
faire Cresides heire thou art:
And I Sir Troylus earst haue been,
as prooueth by my smart.
Hencefoorth beguile the Greekes,
no Troyans will thee trust:
I yeeld thee vp to Diomed,
to glut his filthie lust
And do repute my selfe
herein a blessed man,
Who, finding such deceit in thee,
refuse thy friendship can.
For sundry times we see,
the sots that serue in loue,
Can neuer purchase freedom, nor
their srantike rage remoue.
But who so hath the grace
to banish fond desire,
I count him blest of mightie Ioue,
for few or none retire.
So sweete is sinfull lust,
the venome is so vile:
As Circes cup no sooner might
the bowsing Greeks beguile.
Now hang abroade thy hookes,
bestowe thy baites elsewhere,
Thy pleasant call shall haue no power
to lure my cunning eare.
I tride thy twigges too much,
my feathers felt thy lime:
To giue thee vp, and shunne thy shiftes,
I coumpt it more than time.