Classic Poem

At stryfe to whome I might,
commit my secret teares:
My heart the Mountaynes sight,
and hollow E CCHO feares.

I doubt the Dryades ,
amids the Forrest chase,
And thinking on the Seas,
I dread the Marmayds grace.

What shall I trust the Skyes?
then me the windes bewray:
Poore soule whom I OVE denyes,
eche caytife doth betray.

Ha heauy hart, thy meede,
O tell, tell out thy minde:
Ponder his fylthie deede,
that left his shame behinde.

And lyke a Cowarde fledde,
fearing the chylde vnborne:
Whose mother hee should wedde,
that hath the Babe forsworne.

Was euer Mayde so madde,
that might her fayth forgo?
Was euer boy so badde,
to vse a mayden so?

His teares did me beguyle,
and cleane opprest my powre,
As doth the Crocodile,
in seeking to deuoure.

Howe could I well denie,
when needes it must be so:
Although a shamefull I,
should haue a shamelesse no.

O faythlesse friend my guylte,
that first with guyle began:
O foolishe friend that spylte,
her mirror on the man.

What hath thy Country done,
or natiue soyle a noyde:
To force thee it to shonne,
wherein thy Louer ioyde.

No forrein Hauen can hide,
ne colour thine intent:
If lyfe in Babe abide,
that doth thy fault present.

And when thy fame hath worne,
within th'I TALIAN coste:
Thou shalt be laught to scorne,
of them that loude thee moste.

The Gods will haue a share,
in gyuing him his hier:
That faythlesse falsly sware,
and prooude himselfe a lier.

And I thy mortall foe,
by fylthie lust beguylde:
To wreake me of my woe,
will slay thy silly childe.

In stead of quiet graue,
wherein his corse should rest:
Thy Impe his hearse shall haue,
in bowels of a beast.

My daintie tamed wombe,
that to thy share befell:
Shal finde no doubt a tombe,
amids the mayds in hell.