Sonnet XXVII. Still in the trace of my tormented thought

Samuel Daniel (1562–1619)

[First printed in this edition.]

STILL in the trace of my tormented thought,

My ceaseless cares must march on to my death.

Thy least regard too dearly have I bought,

Who, to my comfort, never deign’st a breath!

Why should’st thou stop thine ears now to my cries?

Whose eyes were open, ready to oppress me!

Why shutt’st thou not, the cause whence all did rise?

Or hear me now, or seek how to redress me!

Injurious D E L I A! Yet, I’ll love thee still!

Whilst that I breathe in sorrow of my smart;

I’ll tell the world that I deserved but ill,

And blame myself, for to excuse thy heart!

Then judge! who sins the greater of us twain:

I, in my love; or thou, in thy disdain!