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Home  »  The Poetical Works by Sir Thomas Wyatt  »  The Lover waileth his changed Joys

Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42). The Poetical Works. 1880.

Odes

The Lover waileth his changed Joys

IF every man might him avaunt

Of fortune’s friendly cheer;

It was myself, I must it grant,

For I have bought it dear:

And dearly have I held also

The glory of her name,

In yielding her such tribute, lo,

As did set forth her fame.

Sometime I stood so in her grace,

That as I would require,

Each joy I thought did me embrace,

That furthered my desire:

And all those pleasures, lo, had I,

That fancy might support;

And nothing she did me deny

That was unto my comfort.

I had, what would you more, perdie?

Each grace that I did crave;

Thus Fortune’s will was unto me

All thing that I would have:

But all too rathe, alas the while,

She built on such a ground:

In little space, too great a guile

In her now have I found.

For she hath turned so her wheel,

That I, unhappy man,

May wail the time that I did feel

Wherewith she fed me than:

For broken now are her behests,

And pleasant looks she gave,

And therefore now all my requests

From peril cannot save.

Yet would I well it might appear

To her my chief regard;

Though my deserts have been too dear

To merit such reward:

Since Fortune’s will is now so bent

To plague me thus, poor man,

I must myself therewith content,

And bear it as I can.