Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 36. Tell me, when shall these wearie woes have end

Tell me, when shall these wearie woes have end;
Or shall their ruthlesse torment never cease,
But al my days in pining languor spend,
Without hope of asswagement or release?
Is there no meanes for me to purchace peace,
Or make agreement with her thrilling eyes;
But that their cruelty doth still increace,
And dayly more augment my miseryes?
But when ye have shew’d all extremityes,
Then think how little glory ye have gayned
By slaying him, whose lyfe, though ye despyse,
Mote have your life in honor long maintayned.
  But by his death, which some perhaps will mone,
  Ye shall condemned be of many a one. 

1. Amoretti 10. Unrighteous Lord of love, what law is this
2. Amoretti 24. When I behold that beauties wonderment
3. Amoretti 61. The glorious image of the Makers beautie
4. Amoretti 52. So oft as homeward I from her depart
5. Amoretti 75. One day I wrote her name upon the strand

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