Vii

For had she not been fair and thus unkind, Then had no finger pointed at my lightness; The world had never known what I do find, And clouds obscure had shaded still her brightness. Then had no censor's eye these lines surveyed, Nor graver brows have judged my Muse so vain; No sun my blush and error had bewrayed, Nor yet the world had heard of such disdain. Then had I walked with bold erected face; No downcast look had signified my miss; But my degraded hopes with such disgrace Did force me groan out griefs and utter this. For being full, should I not then have spoken, My sense oppressed had failed and heart had broken.