Poem by Giles Fletcher the Elder

Licia Sonnets 24

When as my love lay sickly in her bed,
Pale death did post in hope to have a prey;
But she so spotless made him that he fled;
"Unmeet to die," she cried, and could not stay.
Back he retired, and thus the heavens he told;
"All things that are, are subject unto me,
Both towns, and men, and what the world doth hold;
But her fair Licia still immortal be."
The heavens did grant; a goddess she was made,
Immortal, fair, unfit to suffer change.
So now she lives, and never more shall fade;
In earth a goddess, what can be more strange?
Then will I hope, a goddess and so near,
She cannot choose my sighs and prayers but hear. 

1. Licia Sonnets 42
2. Licia Sonnets 48
3. Licia Sonnets 49
4. Licia Sonnets 19
5. Licia Sonnets 38

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