Montemayor's Diana

Page 427

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Loue findes in me so well disposed matter,
And such a minde to amplifie his glorie,
That mongst all those, whose mournfull flockes doe scatter
On both Hisperias plaines, in loue so sorie,
My daily greefes are euer more augmented:
Salt showers of teares mine eies haue euer rained:
And more, then wretched Biblis malcontented,
When turned to a fountaine she remained.
Strange is my good, my paine is proper to me,
Faine would I see Dianas face, but twenty,
And twenty deaths in seeing her vndoe me,
I die for want neere to the fount of plenty:
Her presence doth with paines and torments fill me,
Her absence doth with desperation kill me.
The woods doe murmur, and the meadow smileth,
And iugging nightingales are sweetely singing:
But death to thousand woes my hope exileth:
The blooming trees smell sweete, that now are spinging,
The grasse growes greene, with many a painted flower:
But I remaine (O woe) in sorrowes stinging:
My woes my wits haue slaine in such an hower,
That now I haue no power
To say by hart ten verses all along:
My toong doth cleaue euen in my very song,
Wherefore (my friend) prolong
The time no more, but sing that sweetest dittie,
Which interrupted with thy sighes of pitie,
And teares, in euery citie
And countrie towne, so highly did commend thee.
Singing with thee, it shall no whit offend me,
But ease and pleasure lend me:
Then answer me. But now what shall I sing?
Sing that that saieth. The radiant star doth bring?
Or that: Loues teares doe spring. &c.
Or that: I knowe not well how it doth say,
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