37 "Leicester!" she cried, "is this thy love, That thou so oft hast sworn to me, Immured in shameful privity? CUMNOR HALL. "No more thou com'st with lover's speed, Thy once-beloved bride to see; But be she 'live or be she dead, I fear, stern Earl, 's the same to thee. "Not so the usage I received, When happy in my father's hall; "I rose up with the cheerful morn, No lark more blythe, no flower more gay; And like the bird that haunts the thorn, So merrily sung the livelong day. "If that my beauty is but small, Amongst court-ladies all despised— Why didst thou rend it from that hall, Where, scornful Earl, it well was prized? "And when you first to me made suit, "Yes, now neglected and despised, "For know, when sick'ning grief doth prey, And tender love's repaid with scorn, The sweetest beauty will decay, What floweret can endure the storm? |