A Lesson in Love

When youthe had ledd me half the race
That Cupides scourge did make me rune,
I loked backe to mete the place
Ffrom whence my werye course begune.

And then I sawe how my desyre,
By ill gydyng, had let my waye;
Whose eyes, to greedye of their hire,
Had lost me manye a noble praye.

Ffor when in sighes I spent the daye,
And could not clooke my grief by game,
Their boyling smoke did still bewraye
The fervent rage of hidden flame.

And when salt teares did bayne my brest,
Where love his pleasaunt traynes had sowne,
The brewt therof my frewt opprest,
Or that the bloomes were sprunge & blowne.

And where myne eyes did still pursewe
The flying chace that was their quest,
Their gredye lookes did oft renewe
The hydden wounde within my brest.

When everye looke these cheekes might stayne,
From dedlye pale to flaming redd,
By owtward signes apperyd playne
The woo wherwith my hart was fedd.

But all to late love learneth me
To paynt all kynd of colour es newe,
To blynde their eyes that elles should see
My sparkled chekes with Cupydes hewe.

And now the covert brest I clayme
That worshipps Cupyd secretlye,
And nourysheth hys sacred flame
Ffrom whence no biasing sparckes do five.