Thomas Lodge (Томас Лодж)

Sonnets to Phillis. 31

  Devoid of reason, thrall to foolish ire,
I walk and chase a savage fairy still,
Now near the flood, straight on the mounting hill,
Now midst the woods of youth, and vain desire.
  For leash I bear a cord of careful grief;
For brach I lead an over-forward mind;
My hounds are thoughts, and rage despairing blind,
Pain, cruelty, and care without relief.
  But they perceiving that my swift pursuit
My flying fairy cannot overtake,
With open mouths their prey on me do make,
Like hungry hounds that lately lost their suit.
  And full of fury on their master feed,
  To hasten on my hapless death with speed.

1. Sonnets to Phillis. 39
2. Sonnets to Phillis. 8
3. Sonnets to Phillis. 13
4. Sonnets to Phillis. 32
5. Sonnets to Phillis. 33

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