Poetry Archives

Love wing’d my Hopes and taught me how to fly
Far from base earth, but not to mount too high:
        For true pleasure
        Lives in measure,
        Which if men forsake,
Blinded they into folly run and grief for pleasure take.

But my vain Hopes, proud of their new-taught flight,
Enamour’d sought to woo the sun’s fair light,
        Whose rich brightness
        Moved their lightness
        To aspire so high
That all scorch’d and consumed with fire now drown’d in woe they lie.

And none but Love their woeful hap did rue,
For Love did know that their desires were true;
        Though fate frownèd,
        And now drownèd
        They in sorrow dwell,
It was the purest light of heav’n for whose fair love they fell.