THE PENANCE

by: Nahum Tate (1652-1715)

YMPH FANARET, the gentlest maid

That ever happy swain obeyed,

(For what offence I cannot say)

A day and night, and half a day,

Banished her shepherd from her sight:

His fault for certain was not slight,

Or sure this tender judge had ne'er

Imposed a penance so severe.

And lest she should anon revoke

What in her warmer rage she spoke,

She bound the sentence with an oath,

Protested by her Faith and Troth,

Nought should compound for his offence

But the full time of abstinence.

Yet when his penance-glass were run,

His hours of castigation done,

Should he defer one moment's space

To come and be restored to grace,

With sparkling threat'ning eyes she swore

That failing would incense her more

Than all his trespasses before.

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