Behold, love, thy power how she despiseth! My great pain how little she regardeth! The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure, Broken she hath; and yet she bideth sure Right at her ease and little she dreadeth. Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sitteth; To the disdainful her life she leadeth, To me spiteful without cause or measure, Behold, love. I am in hold: if pity thee moveth, Go bend thy bow, that stony hearts breaketh, And with some stroke revenge the displeasure Of thee and him, that sorrow doth endure, And, as his lord, the lowly entreateth. Behold, love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS WIFE ON THE 16TH ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING DAY, WITH A RING by SAMUEL BISHOP GASCOIGNE'S WOODMANSHIP by GEORGE GASCOIGNE THE CONTRETEMPS by THOMAS HARDY THE IVORY GATE; LOVE-IN-IDLENESS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 7. POMPILIA by ROBERT BROWNING OATS WILD TURN MILD by THRALL BUELL GLIMPSES OF ITALY: 1. IN AN ITALIAN HILL TOWN by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON A PRAYER USED BY FRANCIS I WHEN HE WAS AT WAR WITH CHARLES V by JOHN BYROM |