The First Decade. Sonnet IV. A friend of mine, pitying my hopeless love

Henry Constable (1562–1613)

A FRIEND of mine, pitying my hopeless love,

Hoping, by killing hope, my love to stay:

“Let not,” quoth he, “thy hope, thy heart betray!

Impossible it is her heart to move.”

But sith resolvèd love cannot remove,

As long as thy divine perfections stay:

Thy godhead then, he sought to take away.

Dear! seek revenge, and him a liar prove!

Gods only do impossibilities.

“Impossible,” saith he, “thy grace to gain.”

Show then the power of thy divinities

By granting me thy favour to obtain!

So shall thy foe give to himself the lie;

A goddess thou shalt prove; and happy I!