That Time, Humbleness, and Prayer, can soften every thing save his Lady’s Heart

PROCESS of time worketh such wonder,

That water which is of kind so soft,

Doth pierce the marble stone asunder,

By little drops falling from aloft.

And yet a heart that seems so tender,

Receiveth no drop of the stilling tears

That alway still cause me to render,

The vain plaint that sounds not in her ears.

So cruel, alas! is nought alive,

So fierce, so froward, so out of frame,

But some way, some time may so contrive

By means the wild to temper and tame.

And I that always have sought, and seek

Each place, each time for some lucky day,

This fierce tiger, less I find her meek,

And more denied the longer I pray.

The lion in his raging furour

Forbears that sueth, meekness for his [boot];

And thou, alas! in extreme dolour,

The heart so low thou treads under thy foot.

Each fierce thing, lo! how thou dost exceed,

And hides it under so humble a face!

And yet the humble to help at need

Nought helpeth time, humbleness, nor place.