POEMS BY THOMAS CAMPION
by: Thomas Campion (1567?-1619)
- OLLOW your
saint, follow with accents sweet!
- Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet!
- There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, pity move,
- And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love:
- But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain,
- Then burst with sighing in her sight, and ne'er return again!
- All that I sung still to her praise did tend;
- Still she was first, still she my songs did end;
- Yet she my love and music both doth fly,
- The music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy:
- Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight!
- It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her