dots-menu
×

Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.

Confession and Contrition

XXVII. Anonymous

From “The Passion of a Discontented Mind”

O CURSED custome, causing mischiefe still,

Too long thy craft my sences hath misled;

Too long haue I beene slaue vnto thy will,

Too long my soule on bitter sweetes haue fed:

Now surfeiting with thy hell-poysned cates,

In deepe repent, her former folly hates;

And humbly comes with sorrow-rented hart,

With blubbred eyes and hands vprear’d to heauen,

To play a poore lamenting mawdline’s part,

That would weepe streams of bloud to be forgiuen:

But oh, I feare mine eyes are drain’d so drie,

That though I would, yet now I cannot crie.

If any eye therefore can spare a teare

To fill the well-springs that must wet my cheekes,

O let that eye to this sad feast draw neare;

Refuse me not, my humble soule beseekes;

For all the teares mine eyes have euer wept

Were now too little, had they all bin kept.