Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, hélas, I may no more.
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that farthest cometh behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I may spend his time in vain.
And graven with diamonds in letters plain
There is written, her fair neck round about:
Noli me tangere, for Caesar’s I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.
by Sir Thomas Wyatt
*Note: Sir Thomas Wyatt, ‘Whoso List to Hunt‘. One of the oldest sonnets in the English language, written in the 1530s and published in the 1550s, ‘Whoso List to Hunt’ is also one of the very best. Its use of rhyme is masterly, and the background to the poem – Wyatt’s former friendship (romance?) with Anne Boleyn, now married to King Henry VIII – is as fascinating as the language Wyatt employs.
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