White as lilies was her face:
  When she smilèd
  She beguilèd,
Quitting faith with foul disgrace.
Virtue’s service thus neglected.
Heart with sorrows hath infected.

When I swore my heart her own,
  She disdainèd;
  I complainèd,
Yet she left me overthrown:
Careless of my bitter grieving,
Ruthless, bent to no relieving.

Vows and oaths and faith assured,
  Constant ever,
  Changing never, —
Yet she could not be procured
To believe my pains exceeding
From her scant respect proceeding.

O that love should have the art,
  By surmises,
  And disguises,
To destroy a faithful heart;
Or that wanton-looking women
Should reward their friends as foemen.

All in vain is ladies' love --
  Quickly choosèd.
  Shortly loosèd;
For their pride is to remove.
Out, alas! their looks first won us,
And their pride hath straight undone us.

To thyself, the sweetest Fair!
  Thou hast wounded,
  And confounded
Changeless faith with foul despair;
And my service hast envièd
And my succours hast denièd.

By thine error thou hast lost
  Heart unfeignèd,
  Truth unstainèd.
And the swain that lovèd most,
More assured in love than many,
Move despised in love than any.

For my heart, though set at nought,
  Since you will it,
  Spoil and kill it!
I will never change my thought:
But grieve that beauty e’er was born
Thus to answer love with scorn.