XIII. When first the cruel Fair deigned graciously

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

WHEN first the cruel Fair deigned graciously

To look on me with kind and courteous view;

And cast on me a lovely glancing eye:

She knew not that I was her servant true.

But She no sooner ’ware was of the same;

But that She turned her back with great disdain.

So as the wound I then close bare in breast;

I now, through grief, show outward in my face:

But if that She, by whom I woundèd rest,

Lives in compassion cold towards me, sans grace:

Hard hearted is She, cruel was She to her friend;

And wicked shall be, world withouten end.