Global Utilities

Mary Wroth's Poetry: An Electronic Edition

Wroth Poem - F37 - How fast thou fliest, O Time, on loues ſwift wings

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32.

How fast thou fliest, O Time, on loues ſwift wings
    To hopes of ioy, that flatters our deſire
    wch to a louer, still, contentment brings!
    yett, when wee should inioy thou dost retire

Thou stay'st thy pace faulſe time from our deſire,
    When to our ill thou hast'st wt Eagles wings,
    slowe, only to make vs ſee thy retire
    was for dispayre, and harme, wch ſorrowe brings;

O! slacke thy paſe, and milder paſs to loue
    bee like the Bee, whoſe wings she doth butt vſe
    to bring home profitt; masters good to proue
    laden, and weary, yett againe purſues,

Soe lade thy ſelf wth honnye of ſought ioye,
And doe nott mee the Hiue of loue destroy
32.

How fast thou fliest, O Time, on love's swift wings
    To hopes of joy, that flatters our desire
    Which to a lover, still, contentment brings!
    Yet, when we should enjoy, thou dost retire.

Thou stayest thy pace, false time, from our desire,
    When to our ill thou hast'st with Eagle's wings,
    Slow, only to make us see thy retire
    Was for despair, and harm, which sorrow brings;

O! slack thy pace, and milder pass to love
    Be like the bee, whose wings she doth but use
    To bring home profit, masters good to prove
    Laden, and weary, yet again pursues,

So lade thyself with honey of sought* joy
    And do not me the hive of love destroy.


'sought' = 'sweet' in P.
32.

How faſt thou flieſt, O Time, on Loues ſwift wings,
    To hopes of ioy, that flatters our deſire:
    Which to a Louer ſtill contentment brings;
    Yet when we ſhould inioy, thou doſt retire.

Thou ſtay'ſt thy pace (falſe Time) from our deſire
    When to our ill thou haſt'ſt with Eagles wings:
    Slow only to make vs ſee thy retire
    Was for Deſpaire, and harme, which ſorrowe brings.

O ſlake thy pace, and milder paſſe to Loue,
    Be like the Bee, whoſe wings ſhe doth but vſe
    To bring home profit; maſters good to proue,
    Laden, and weary, yet againe purſues.

So lade thy ſelfe with hony of ſweet ioy,
And do not me (the Hiue of Loue) deſtroy.
32.

How fast thou fliest, O Time, on love's swift wings
    To hopes of joy, that flatters our desire
    Which to a lover, still, contentment brings!
    Yet, when we should enjoy, thou dost retire.

Thou stayest thy pace, false time, from our desire,
    When to our ill thou hast'st with Eagle's wings,
    Slow, only to make us see thy retire
    Was for despair, and harm, which sorrow brings;

O! slack thy pace, and milder pass to love
    Be like the bee, whose wings she doth but use
    To bring home profit, masters good to prove
    Laden, and weary, yet again pursues,

So lade thyself with honey of sweet joy
    And do not me the hive of love destroy.



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