T H E
F I R S T   B O O K E
of Songes or Ayres

R O B E R T   I O N E S

1600

20. Perplexed sore am I.

                      1 
                   Perplexed sore am I
           Thine eies fair loue like Phebus brightest beames
           Doth set my hart on fire and daze my sight,
           Yet doe I liue by vertue of those beames,
           For when thy face is hid comes fearefull night,
                   And I am like to die,
       Then since my eies can not indure so heauenly sparke,
       Sweet grant that I may still feele out my loue by darke.

                      2 
                   So Shall I ioyfull bee,
           Each thing on earth that liueth by the sunne:
           Would die if he in glorie still appeare,
           Then let some cloudes of pitty ouerrunne
           That glorious face, that I with liuely cheere,
                   May stand vp before thee.
       Or, Since mine eies cannot endure so heauenly sparke,
       Sweet grant that I may still feele out my loue by darke.