English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Thomas Lodge
63. Phillis
L
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers;
Then will I praise thy deity.
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.