Montemayor's Diana

Page 080

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And (carelesse) left me then behinde vnharm’d:
How small a time did I this ioye essaie?
For presently enuious Fortune saide,
Staie loue, why passest thou so soone awaie?
Foorthwith the blinde boye turn’d to me, and staide
Angry to see himselfe so checkt with blame,
For ther’s no blame, where his hot fire is laide:
Cupid was blinde, but well he spide his game:
So blinded b• he, that he may see none,
That did so blinde my wit, and sence enflame:
O that I might reuenge my selfe of one
That wisheth harme to all, and will not free
(With his consent) not one poore hart alone:
Straight did the traytour arme his bowe, and he
with poysoned shaft did pierce my carelesse hart,
Which in his bowe he put, and aym’d at me:
Fortune vnarm’d did take me, for his parte
Loue neuer plaies, nor workes not any feate,
But on free soules, exempted from his darte:
A hardned hart his arrow brake hart with heate,
And brake a neuer subiect freedome, so
That I did yeeld, and his content was great:
O sole free quiet life that I forgo,
O meadowe seene so oft with freest eies,
Cursed be Loue, his arrowes, and his bowe:
Nowe follow loue, and what he doth deuise,
Come from securitie to greatest care,
And passe from rest, to thousand miseries:
See now how that a carefull hart doth fare,
Which lately was without suspect or thought
Subiect to be to such a tyrants snare.
O soule with teares vndone and brought to nought,
Now learne to suffer, since you learn’d to see,
But what auailes, if this my Fortune wrought?
O wretched eies (if with this terme he be
Not angry) whom you savve vvith free consent,
Where haue you put and plac’d my libertie?
O meadovves, groues, and vvoods of svveete content,
Which bred so free a hart as I had heere,
So great an ill vvhy did you not preuent?
Svvift running brooke, and riuer pure and cleere,
Where once my flocke vvere wont to drinke their fill,
O euery season of the passing yeere,
Why haue you put me in a state so ill?
Since onely I did loue you, and these plaines,
And this most pleasant vale, and greenest hill.
Heere did I mocke a thousand Shepherd swaines:
Who now will laugh at me, when they shall knovv.


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