End this enchantment, love, of my desires,
Let me no longer languish for thy love.
Joy not to see me thus consume in fires,
But let my cruel pains thy hard heart move.
And now, at last with pitiful regard
Eye me, thy lover, lorn for lack of thee,
Which, dying, lives in hope of sweet reward
Which hate hath hitherto withheld from me.
Constant have I been, still in fancy fast,
Ordained by heavens to dote upon thy fair;
Nor will I e’er, so long as life shall last,
Say any’s fairer, breathing vital air.
But when the ocean sands shall lie unwet,
Then shall my soul to love thee, dear, forget.

Richard Lynche

According to Wikipedia:

Linche or Lynche, Richard (1596–1601), poet, was the author of:

  1. ‘The Fountaine of English Fiction, wherein is lively depictured the Images and Statues of the Gods of the Ancients, with their proper and particular Expositions, done out of Italian into English by Richard Linche, gent., for Adam Islip,’ 1599. In this ‘strange borne child of idlenesse,’ as he calls it, the author takes each of the Latin gods in turn, and then collates from classical writers the passages in which his attributes are described. It is dedicated to Peter Davison, esq.
  2. ‘An Historical Treatise of the Travels of Noah into Europe, containing the first inhabitation and peopling thereof. As also a briefe Recapitulation of the Kings, Governors, and Rulers commanding in the same, even untill the first building of Troy by Dardanus. Done into English by Richard Lynche, gent., London, by Adam Islip,’ 1601. Dedicated to ‘My very good friend, Maister Peter Manwood, Esq.’ Both of these so-called translations are interspersed with verses and with tags of Italian. These circumstances, combined with a general similarity of style and colouring, strongly favour the conjecture that Linche is the ‘R. L. gentleman’ who in 1596 gave to the world ‘Diella; certain Sonnets adjoined to the amorous Poem of Dom Diego and Gineura. London, for Henry Olney,’ the publisher of Sidney’s ‘Apology for Poetry.’ Despite the writer’s ‘immaturity’  the sonnets display some genuine, though ill-sustained inspiration.

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