Tudor and Stuart Love Songs — George Gascoigne

A STRANGE PASSION OF A LOVER.

Amid my bale I bathe in bliss, I swim in Heaven, I sink in hell: I find amends for every miss, And yet my moan no tongue can tell.

I live and love (what would you more?

) As never lover lived before.

I laugh sometimes with little lust, So jest I oft and feel no joy;

Mine eye is builded all on trust, And yet mistrust breeds mine annoy.

I live and lack, I lack and have;

I have and miss the thing I crave.

* * * * * Then like the lark that passed the night In heavy sleep with cares oppressed;

Yet when she spies the pleasant light, She sends sweet notes from out her breast;

So sing I now because I think How joys approach when sorrows shrink.

And as fair Philomene again Can watch and sing when others sleep;

And taketh pleasure in her pain, To wray the woe that makes her weep;

So sing I now for to bewray The loathsome life I lead alway.

The which to thee, dear wench, I write, Thou know'st my mirth but not my moan;

I pray God grant thee deep delight, To live in joys when I am gone.

I cannot live; it will not be: I die to think to part from thee.

George Gascoigne.