Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
DiellaSonnet XV. No sooner leaves Hyperion, Thetis bed
Richard Linche (fl. 15961601)N
and mounts his coach to post from thence away;
Richly adorning fair L
giving to mountains, tincture from his ray:
But straight I rise, where I could find no rest,
where visions and fantasies appear;
And when, with small ado, my body ’s dresst,
abroad I walk, to think upon my Dear!
Where, under umbrage of some agèd tree,
with lute in hand I sit and, sighing, say,
“Sweet groves, tell forth with echo, what you see!
good trees, bear witness, who is my decay!
And thou, my soul, speak! speak what rest I have,
When each our joy’s despair doth make me rave!”