Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 10. Unrighteous Lord of love, what law is this

Unrighteous Lord of love, what law is this,
That me thou makest thus tormented be,
The whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse
Of her freewill, scorning both thee and me?
See! how the Tyrannesse doth ioy to see
The hugh massácres which her eyes do make,
And humbled harts brings captive unto thee,
That thou of them mayst mightie vengeance take.
But her proud hart doe thou a little shake,
And that high look, with which she doth comptroll
All this worlds pride, bow to a baser make*,
And al her faults in thy black booke enroll:
  That I may laugh at her in equall sort
  As she doth laugh at me, and makes my pain her sport.

[* Make, mate.] 

1. Amoretti 61. The glorious image of the Makers beautie
2. Amoretti 24. When I behold that beauties wonderment
3. Amoretti 52. So oft as homeward I from her depart
4. Amoretti 75. One day I wrote her name upon the strand
5. Amoretti 44. When those renoumed noble peres of Greece

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