Sonnet XLIX. Cool! cool in waves, thy beams intolerable

Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)

COOL! cool in waves, thy beams intolerable,

O sun! No son, but most unkind stepfather!

By law, nor Nature, Sire; but rebel rather!

Fool! fool! these labours are inextricable;

A burden whose weight is importable;

A Siren which, within thy breast, doth bathe her;

A Fiend which doth, in Graces’ garments grath her;

A fortress, whose force is impregnable;

From my love’s ’lembic, still ’stilled tears. O tears!

Quench! quench mine heat! or, with your sovereignty,

Like NIOBE, convert mine heart to marble!

Or with fast-flowing pine, my body dry,

And rid me from Despair’s chilled fears! O fears,

Which on mine heben harp’s heartstrings do warble!