Forgotten Ground Regained
Grieve, o gods, who guard love;mourn, mortals, men of gentility:My lovely’s linnet ‧ lies dead, the linnet pert, my pretty passion,whom she held ‧ higher than all else.So sweetly he sang, as her squire he served her;as a daughter her mother ‧ he admired his mistress.Never would he budge ‧ from her beautiful bosom.Here and there ‧ he hopped; for heralone, cheekily, he cheeped and chirped.But lo, he plods ‧ the long lane,whence none return, now numb.May you be damned, dark Death,who swiftly swallows ‧ this sweet and pretty thing.You have purloined ‧ that lovely linnet.Oh, evil act! Oh, ill-starred linnet!From the anguished eyes ‧ of my own ladythe steaming tears ‧ streak in streams.
Copyright © Brian Bishop, 1999
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