Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foil'd,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written ambassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit:
Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine
May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,
But that I hope some good conceit of thine
In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it;
Till whatsoever star that guides my moving
Points on me graciously with fair aspect
And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving,
To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:
Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;
Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me.
Ingentis iactet titulos atque urbis honores,
Cui natalicium sidus et hora favet.
Me potius, fastus istos cui fata negarunt,
Id quod praecipuo dignor honore iuvat.
Deliciae qui sunt regum, ceu caltha, colores
Oppandunt domini solis ad ora sui,
Nubila sit facies, illorum gloria fluxit,
Aureaque in sese forma sepulta iacet.
Strenuus et miles felicia notus ob arma,
Si totiens victor vincitur ipse semel,
Raditur e fastis omnino nomen honestis,
Omniaque assiduo gesta labore cadunt.
O ego quam videor felix, immobile pectus
Pectoris immoti semper amantis amans.
O cui me fateor iunctum vinctumque teneri
Officio ac meritis, dulcis amice, tuis,
Scripta sinas ad te legem mea, nullius artis
Indicia, at magnam testificata fidem.
Dictaque tanta fides tenui sic arte videri
Nuda potest, desint cum sua verba rei,
Ni tibi quid sensus sperem felicius esse
Quod capiat corde haec omnia, nuda tamen.
Dum mihi siqua meos discursus stella gubernat
Desuper aspectu me meliore notet;
Ac superinducat quid honestum his sordibus ipsis,
Dignior ut cultu sit tibi noster amor.
Fas animi affectus erga te deinde fateri,
Nunc mea qua noscas ora venire pudet.
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee and for myself no quiet find.
How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarr'd the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd?
And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me;
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night;
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's strength seem strong
Lassus ubi repeto mea lecti strata, levamen
Dulce fatigatis membra labore viae,
Continuo sub pectore iter mihi longius iri
Incipit, exhausto corpore mentis opus.
Nam procul a membris dilabitur illa quietis
Teque petens cupide tendere pergit iter;
Pansaque lumina habet lasso, spectantia semper
In tenebras quales lumina caeca vident.
Ni mihi ad obscuros orbes se mentis imago
Offerat, effigiem visa referre tuam;
Illa relucet enim velut umbris pendula nigris
Gemma, novum antiquo noctis in ore decus.
Luce mihi membris, animo mihi nocte, negatur
-Sive ego seu tu sis causa,-fruenda quies.
Quaene domum reditus igitur feliciter acti
Spes mihi, si nulla sit requiete frui?
Lucis ubi aerumnis nescit nox ipsa mederi,
Noxque die gravior fit mihi, nocte dies;
Alteraque alterius licet adversaria regnis,
Vnanimas iungunt in mea damna manus.
Huic iter urgendum curae est, agit illa querelas
Quone locorum a te longius ire velim;
Voce diem solor tristem te lumina terris
Reddere, per totum si nigret umbra polum;
Blandior et furvae nocti, si nulla nitescant
Sidera, te seri vesperis esse decus.
Interea mihi cura die producitur omni,
Omni nocte agitur vi graviore dolor.
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
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