Thomas Blenerhasset Poems

Do nothing muse at my deformed face,
For Nature it in perfect moulde dyd make:
And when your wits haue wayed well the case,
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Euermore my Muse shall magnifie thy name
Most gracious, most right renowned dame
Nowe that I knowe thy due deserued fame:
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Mens due desertes ech Reader may recite,
For men of men doo make a goodly show,
But womens workes can neuer come to light,
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The Preface.

A poore Pilgrime who seekes the circle rounde
Of all the worlde to finde his heartes desire,
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Sith men be borne by Nature naked all,
With their estates why are not men content?
Why doo they deeme the want of wealth a thral?
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You hellish hagges of Limbo Lake belowe,
Which dayly doo my cursed corps torment,
Come forth, come forth, come forth, (I say) and shewe
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On staylesse top of Honours high renowne,
With busye brayne to builde a bower there,
Is doune to fall at Fortunes froward frowne,
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Two partes in one a Heardman here must play,
My tale must tende eche princes lyfe to mende,
And this my talke most playnely must displaye,
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We leade our liues by fancies fonde delight,
For kingdomes some doo busy much theyr brayne,
But Cupids curse that wretched litle wight,
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My wrinckled cheeks bedeawde with drops of dole
My visage pale, my wan and withered face,
Do wel declare how I haue runne my race.
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