Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–42). The Poetical Works. 1880.
OdesThe Lover complaineth that Faith may not avail without the Favour of Fantasy
I
As my deserving shall;
My Love, my Paramour,
Should love me best of all.
But if I cannot attain
The grace that I desire,
Then may I well complain
My service, and my hire.
Fancy doth know how
To further my true heart;
If Fancy might avow
With Faith to take part.
But Fancy is so frail
And flitting still so fast,
That Faith may not prevail
To help me, first nor last.
For Fancy at his lust,
Doth rule all but by guess;
Whereto should I then trust
In truth or steadfastness.
Yet gladly would I please
The fancy of her heart,
That may me only ease
And cure my careful smart.
Therefore, my Lady dear,
Set once your Fantasy
To make some hope appear,
Of steadfast remedy.
For if he be my friend,
And undertake my woe,
My grief is at an end
If he continue so.
Else Fancy doth not right
As I deserve and shall,
To have you day and night,
To love me best of all.