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 46. When my abodes prefixed time is spent
2. Amoretti 13. In that proud port which her so goodly graceth
3. Amoretti 42. The love which me so cruelly tormenteth
4. Amoretti 23. Penelope, for her Ulisses sake
5. Amoretti 69. The famous warriors of the anticke world

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