John Wilbye Poems

Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face;
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart:
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Adieu, adieu
sweet amaryllis.
For since to part your will is.
O heavy tiding
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As matchless beauty thee a Phoenix proves,
Fair Leonilla, so thy sour-sweet loves.
For when young Acon's eye thy proud heart tames,
Thou diest in him, and livest in my flames.
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Ah! cannot sighs not tears, nor aught else move thee
To pity me, who more than life do love thee?
O cruel fates! see, now away she’s flying,
And fly, alas! alas! and leave me dying.
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Flora gave me fairest flowers,
None so fair in Flora's treasure:
These I plac'd on Phillis' bowers,
She was pleas'd, and she my pleasure
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Cruel, behold my heavy ending,
See what you wrought by your disdaining.
Causeless I die, love still attending
Your hopeless pity of my complaining
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Despiteful thus unto myself, I languish,
And in disdain, myself from joy I banish,
These secret thoughts enwrap me so in anguish,
That life, I hope. will soon from body vanish
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Ah! cruel Amarillis, since thou tak’st delight
To hear the accents of a doleful ditty,
To triumph still without remorse or pity;
I loathe this life,death must my sorrow right;
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Fly not so swift, my dear, behold me dying,
If not a smiling glance for all my crying,
Yet kill me with thy frowns.
The Satyrs o'er the lawns full nimbly dancing
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Hard destinies are love and beauty parted,
Fair Daphne so disdainful!
Cupid, thy shafts are too unjustly darted;
Fond love, thy wounds are painful
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