Michael Drayton (Майкл Дрейтон)

Sonnet 41. Why Do I Speak of Joy

    Love's Lunacy

Why do I speak of joy, or write of love,
When my heart is the very den of horror,
And in my soul the pains of Hell I prove,
With all his torments and infernal terror?
What should I say? What yet remains to do?
My brain is dry with weeping all too long,
My sighs be spent in uttering my woe,
And I want words wherewith to tell my wrong;
But, still distracted in Love's lunacy,
And, bedlam-like, thus raging in my grief,
Now rail upon her hair, then on her eye,
Now call her Goddess, then I call her thief,
    Now I deny her, then I do confess her, 
    Now do I curse her, then again I bless her.

1. Roc
2. Sonnet 16. Mongst all the Creatures in this Spacious Round
3. Sonnet 39. Some, when in Rhyme They of their Loves do Tell
4. Sonnet 24. I Hear Some Say
5. Sonnet 34. Marvel not, Love

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