XI. In silver stream, on shallow fountain’s shelf

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

IN silver stream, on shallow fountain’s shelf,

The lively image saw he in the same;

Who was in love with shadow of himself:

Through pride forgetful how his likeness came.

Such one myself, by chance, I see to be;

When as in river I myself did see:

Yet I myself, instead of loving, hate.

And such strange hatred is this, and so strong;

That while he, loving, died by justest Fate,

Himself by seeing, whilst he himself did wrong:

I die will unto him contrary clean;

’Cause I, hating myself, myself too much have seen.