The Delia Sonnets
by Samuel Daniel
- Unto the boundless ocean of thy beauty
- Go, wailing verse, the infants of my love
- If so it hap this offspring of my care
- These plaintive verse, the posts of my desire
- Whilst youth and error led my wandering mind
- Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair
- For had she not been fair and thus unkind
- Thou, poor heart, sacrificed unto the fairest
- If this be love, to draw a weary breath
- Then do I love and draw this weary breath
- Tears, vows and prayers gain the hardest hearts
- My spotless love hovers with purest wings
- Behold what hap Pygmalion had to frame
- Those snary locks are those same nets, my dear
- If that a loyal heart and faith unfeigned
- Happy in sleep, waking content to languish
- Why should I sing in verse? Why should I frame
- Since the first look that led me to this error
- Restore thy tresses to the golden ore
- What it is to breathe and live without life
- If beauty thus be clouded with a frown
- Come Time, the anchor hold of my desire
- Time, cruel Time, come and subdue that brow
- These sorrowing sighs, the smoke of mine annoy
- False hope prolongs my ever certain grief
- Look in my griefs, and blame me not to mourn
- Reignin my thoughts, fair hand, sweet eye, rare voice
- Whilst by thy eyes pursued, my poor heart flew
- Still in the trace of one perplexèd thought
- Oft do I marvel whether Delia's eyes
- The star of my mishap imposed this pain
- And yet I cannot reprehend the flight
- Raising my hopes on hills of high desire
- Why dost thou, Delia, credit so thy glass
- I once may see when years shall wreck my wrong
- Look, Delia, how w'esteem the half-blown rose
- But love whilst that thou mayst be loved again
- When men shall find thy flower, thy glory pass
- When winter snows upon thy sable hairs
- Thou canst not die whilst any zeal abound
- Be not displeased that these my papers should
- Delia, these eyes that so admireth thine
- ost fair and lovely maid, look from the shore
- Read in my face a volume of despairs
- My Delia hath the waters of mine eyes
- How long shall I in mine affliction mourn
- Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew
- I must not grieve my love, whose eyes would read
- Ah whither, poor forsaken, wilt thou go
- Drawn with th'attractive virtue of her eyes
- Care-charmer sleep, son of the sable night
- Let others sing of knights and paladins
- As to the Roman that would free his land
- Like as the lute delights or else dislikes
- None other fame mine unambitious Muse
- Unhappy pen, and ill-accepted lines
- Lo here the impost of a faith entire
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