English Puritan & Reformed

An Excellent Sonnet

George Wither (1588-1667) · 878 words · 4 min

The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A12603.0001.001

Project Note

This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.

The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.

This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.

Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.

However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.

This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.

Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org

An Excellent Sonnet: OR, The Swaines complaint, whose cruel doom, It was to love he knew not whom.

To the tune of, Bodkins Galiard.

[illustration]

         YOu gentle Nimphs that on the Meddowes play, and oft relate the Loves of Shepherds young,
        
         Come sit you down, if that you please to stay, now may you hear an uncouth passion Song:
        
         A Lad there is, and I am that poor groome,
        
          That's fallen in love, and cannot tell with whom.

         Oh do not smile at sorrow as a jest, with others cares good natures moved be:
        
         And I should weep if you had my unrest, then at my grief how can you merry be?
        
         Ah, where is tender pity now become?
        
          I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.

         I that have oft the rarest features viewed, and beauty in her best perfection seen,
        
         I that have laughit at them that love pursued, and ever free from such perfections been,
        
         Loe now at last so cruel is my doom,
        
          I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.

         My heart is full nigh bursting with desire, yet cannot tell from whence these longings flow,
        
         My breast doth burn, but she that light the fire, I never saw, nor can I come to know:
        
         So great a bliss my fortune keeps me from,
        
          That though I dearly love, I know not whom.

         Ere I had twice four Springs renewed seen, the force of beauty I began to probe,
        
         And ere I nine years old had fully been, it taught me how to frame a sound of love,
        
         And little thought I this day should have come,
        
          Before that I to love had found out whom.

         For on my chin the mossy down you see, and in my veins well heated blood doth gloe,
        
         Of Summers I have seen twice three times three, and fast my youthful time away doth go:
        
         That much I fear, I aged shall become,
        
          And still complain, I love I know not whom.

         Oh why had I a heart bestowed on me, to cherish dear affections so inclined,
        
         Since I am so unh
         
          •
         
         ppy borne to be, no object for so true a love to find,
        
         When I am dead it will be mist of some,
        
          Yet now I live, I love I know not whom.

         I to a thousand beauteous Nimphs am known, a hundred Ladies favors do I swear,
        
         I with as many half in love am grown, yet none of them I find can be my dear,
        
         Me thinks I have a Mistress yet to come,
        
          Which makes me sing, I love I know not whom.

The second part,

To the same tune.

[illustration]

         THere lives no swaine doth stronger passion probe for her, whom most he covets to possess,
        
         Then doth my heart that being full of love, knows not to whom it may the same profess,
        
         For he that is despis
         
          •
         
         d hath sorrow some,
        
          But he hath more, that loves, & knows not whom.

         Knew I my Love, as many others do, to someone object might my thoughts be bent,
        
         So they divided, wandering should not go, until the souls united force be spent,
        
         As he that seeks, and never finds a home,
        
          Such is my rest, that love, and know not whom.

         Those whom the frowns of jealous friends divide, may live to meet and descant of their woe,
        
         And he hath gained a Lady for his Bride, that durst not woo his Maid a while ago:
        
         But oh what ends unto my hopes can come,
        
          That am in love, and cannot tell with whom.

         Poor
         
          Collin
         
         grieves that he was late disdained, and
         
          Clores
         
         doth for
         
          Willies
         
         absence pine,
        
         Sad
         
          Thirthes
         
         weeps for his sick
         
          Phebe
         
         pained, but all their sorrows cannot equal mine,
        
         A greater care on me, alas, is come,
        
          I am in love, and cannot tell with whom.

          Narcissus
         
         -like did I affect my shade, some shadow yet I had to dote upon,
        
         Or did I love some Image of the dead, whose substance had not breathed long ago,
        
         I might despair, and so an end would come.
        
          But oh I love, and cannot tell with whom.

         Once in a dream me thought my love I viewed, but never waking could her face behold,
        
         And doubtless that resemblance was but showed, that more my tired heart torment it should.
        
         For since that time more grieved I am become,
        
          And more in love, I cannot tell with whom.

         When on my bed at night to rest I lie, my watchful eyes with tears bedew my cheeks,
        
         And then, oh would it once were day I cry, yet when it comes I am as far to seek,
        
         For who can tell, though all the earth he rome,
        
          Or when or where, to find he knows not whom.

         Oh if she be amongst the beauteous trains, of all the Nimphs that haunt the several Kills,
        
         Or if you know her Ladies of the plains, or you that have your Bowers on the Hills,
        
         Tell, if you can, who will my love become,
        
          Or I shall die, and never know for whom.

Printed at London for I. Wright dwelling in Gilt-spurr street near New-gate.

FINIS.