Poem by Robert Sidney

Sonnet 7. The hardly captain, unused to retire

The hardly captain, unused to retire,
Turns and returns to the too-well-kept place
Where wound to wound, disgrace upon disgrace
He takes, while will and power ’gainst him conspire:

Scorn of repulse, of loss the stinging fire
His heart with grief doth fill, with shame his face;
But no force finding way, with heavy pace
Forsake he doth his ill-blest fair desire.

With equal care, but with an end more high,
I sought to win the kingdom seat of love,
Beauty’s best treasure, praise of victory:
But scorned, repulsed, heartbroken I remove,

Reaping loss for desert, for love contempt,
And grief and shame for so dear foiled attempt.

1. Sonnet 21. Alas why say you I am ritch?
2. Sonnet 12. Who gives himself, may ill his words deny
3. Sonnet 8. If that her worth I could as well forget
4. Sonnet 15. You that haue power to kil, haue will to saue
5. Sonnet 6. When rest locks up the treasures of delight

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