Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
FidessaSonnet X. Clip not, sweet Love, the wings of my Desire
Bartholomew Griffin (d. 1602)C
Although it soar aloft, and mount too high:
But rather, bear with me, though I aspire,
For I have wings to bear me to the sky.
What though I mount, there is no sun but thee!
And sith no other sun, why should I fear?
Thou wilt not burn me, though thou terrify!
And though thy brightness do so great appear.
Dear! I seek not to batter down thy glory;
Nor do I envy that thy hope increaseth!
O never think, thy fame doth make me sorry!
For thou must live by fame, when beauty ceaseth.
Besides, since from one root we both did spring,
Why should not I, thy fame and beauty sing?