Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Parthenophil and ParthenopheSonnet XXXVIII. When thine heart-piercing answers could not hinder
Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)W
Mine heart’s hot hammer on thy steel to batter;
Nor could excuses cold, quench out that cinder
Which in me kindled was: She weighed the matter,
And turning my sun’s chariot, him did place
In Libra’s equal Mansion, taking pause,
And casting, with deep judgement, to disgrace
My love, with cruel dealing in the cause.
She, busily, with earnest care devised
How She might make her beauty tyrannous,
And I, for ever, to her yoke surprised:
The means found out, with cunning perilous,
She turned the wheels, with force impetuous,
And armed with woman-like contagion
My sun She lodged in the Scorpion.