Sonnet XVII. Then from her fled my hart in sorrow wrapped

Thomas Watson (1555–1592)

THEN from her fled my hart in sorrow wrapped.

Like vnto one that shund pursuing slaughter:

All welnigh breathles told me what had happed,

How both in Court and countrie he had fought her.

The drerie teares of many loue repenting,

Corriuals in my loue whom fancie stroked;

Partners in loue and partners in lamenting,

My fellow thralls whose necks as mine were yoked.

The shepheards praises and their harts amis,

Vrged by my Mistres ouerweening pride;

For none that sees her but captiued is,

And last he told which to my hart did glide;

How all the teares I spent were vaine and forceles,

For shee in hart had vowd to be remorceles.