Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
ChlorisSonnet XII. Cease eyes to weep, sith none bemoans your weeping!
William Smith (fl. 1596)C
Leave off, good Muse, to sound the cruel name
Of my love’s Queen! which hath my heart in keeping;
Yet of my love doth make a jesting game.
Long hath my sufferance laboured to enforce
One pearl of pity from her pretty eyes;
Whilst I, with restless oceans of remorse,
Bedew the banks where my fair C
Where my fair C
And doth triumph to see such rivers fall
From those moist springs, which never dry have been
Since she their honour hath detained in thrall.
And still she scorns one favouring smile to show
Unto those waves proceeding from my woe.