Sonnet VII. Now Loue triumphed hauing got the day

Thomas Watson (1555–1592)

NOW Loue triumphed hauing got the day,

Proudly insulting, tyrannizing still:

As Hawke that ceazeth on the yeelding pray,

So am I made the scorne of Victors will.

Now eies with teares, now hart with sorrow fraught,

Hart sorrowes at my watry teares lamenting:

Eyes shed salt teares to see harts pining thought,

And both that then loue scornd are now repenting.

But all in vaine too late I pleade repentance,

For teares in eies and sighs in hart must weeld me:

The feathered boy hath doomd my fatall sentence,

That I to tyrannizing Loue must yeeld me.

And bow my necke erst subiect to no yoke,

To Loues false lure (such force hath beauties stroke).