Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
IV. Recollections of His Lost BrideWilliam Drummond, of Hawthornden (15851649)
A
Sweet hermitress, she did alone repair;
Here did she spread the treasure of her hair,
More rich than that brought from the Colchian mines;
She set her by these muskéd eglantines,—
The happy place the print seems yet to bear;—
Her voice did sweeten here thy sugared lines,
To which winds, trees, beasts, birds, did lend an ear;
Me here she first perceived, and here a morn
Of bright carnations did o’erspread her face;
Here did she sigh, here first my hopes were born,
And first I got a pledge of promised grace;
But ah! what served it to be happy so,
Sith passéd pleasures double but new woe.