Poems 1527-1537

Sketch of Sir Thomas Wyatt © HM the Queen. Scanned by Douglas Dowell.

Image of Anne Boleyn © Hever Castle. Scanned by Lara E. Eakins at Tudor History.

The relationship between Anne Boleyn and Thomas Wyatt, Tudor poet, is still fiercely debated. There is a strong tradition, both from Catholic sources and from George Wyatt, Thomas' grandson, that Wyatt was one of Anne's admirers; her enemies and detractors have often alleged an affair between the two, and Wyatt was one of those arrested in May 1536. He was, however, never charged and soon released. The earliest version of the recusant tradition seems to date from Mary I's reign, when Nicholas Harpsfield alleged an affair between the two of which Wyatt informed the king when he intended to marry Anne. (Harpsfield claims that Wyatt was told by Henry not to mention the matter to anyone; a rather atypical reaction, given his reaction to Katheryn Howard's premarital promiscuity!) The Wyatt tradition, however, is firm that Anne never responded to the poet's affection improperly.

There is probably enough evidence available to us to suggest that Anne and Wyatt indulged in courtly flirtation, such as might be expected at court. There is also a reasonably strong suggestion that Wyatt might have been, emotionally, more seriously involved than that. What there is not any serious evidence for is a response on Anne's part beyond that which convention dictated; certainly, a liaison was very far from being in her interest, given that Wyatt was already married and notoriously promiscuous - while had there been serious evidence of a sexual relationship between the two at any stage, it is almost incredible that Wyatt was nevertheless released, having already been arrested. I suspect, though, that Wyatt himself did feel something for Anne, judging by his poems below. Admittedly, allowance must be made for poetic license; but references to love for Anne even after her execution, when she was a non-person, do suggest some emotional involvement on his part. Regardless, he must have known from fairly early on that he was not a serious prospect for Anne, due both to his married status and the king's affection for her. The poems here seem to range from about 1527 to 1537 - from describing the king's pursuit of Anne to Wyatt's falling in love with Elizabeth Darell and thus recovering from his love of Anne.

Anne Unattainable (Sonnet 3)

This is Wyatt's most famous poem relating to Anne Boleyn; the clear impression given is that of a one-sided pursuit by the poet rather than a relationship between the two. It sounds as though he has to make himself break his fascination with Anne. By this stage, anyway, only one man would have been in the running: Henry.

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, alas, 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.

A Riddle (Epigram 7)

It is not certainly that this refers to Anne Boleyn; the solution to this riddle is 'Anna', but of course in theory it could refer to any Anne at court. Anne Boleyn is, though, the most likely subject. This is, at least, a courtly conceit; whether it means anything more is impossible to say.

What word is that that changeth not,
Though it be turned and made in twain?
It is mine answer, God it wot,
And eke the causer of my pain.
It love rewardeth with disdain:
Yet is it loved. What would ye more?
It is my health eke and my sore.

Aftermath (Epigram 9)

This seems to have been written around 1532, when Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn went to Calais accompanied by Wyatt. This sounds as though Wyatt was seriously in love and, now cured, was thinking of what a fool he'd been; but as always, the question is: how seriously do we take it, and how much is simply an expression of courtly love?

Some time I fled the fire that me brent
By sea, by land, by water and by wind;
And now I follow the coals that be quent,
From Dover to Calais against my mind.
Lo how desire is both sprung and spent!
And he may see that whilom was so blind,
And all his labour now he laugh to scorn,
Meshed in the briars that erst was all to-torn.

May 1536

Wyatt was arrested in May 1536, but seems to have been protected by Thomas Cromwell from anything more serious. On his release, he put pen to paper to commemorate the victims. Only one is missing: Anne herself.

In mourning wise since daily I increase,
Thus should I cloak the cause of all my grief;
So pensive mind with tongue to hold his peace
My reason sayeth there can be no relief:
Wherefore give ear, I humbly you require,
The affect to know that thus doth make me moan.
The cause is great of all my doleful cheer
For those that were, and now be dead and gone.

What though to death desert be now their call,
As by their faults it doth appear right plain?
Of force I must lament that such a fall
Should light on those so wealthily did reign,
Though some perchance will say, of cruel heart,
A traitor's death why should we thus bemoan?
But I alas, set this offence apart,
Must needs bewail the death of some be gone.

As for them all I do not thus lament,
But as of right my reason doth me bind;
But as the most doth all their deaths repent,
Even so do I by force of mourning mind.
Some say, 'Rochford, haddest thou been not so proud,
For thy great wit each man would thee bemoan,
Since as it is so, many cry aloud
It is great loss that thou art dead and gone.'

Ah! Norris, Norris, my tears begin to run
To think what hap did thee so lead or guide
Whereby thou hast both thee and thine undone
That is bewailed in court of every side;
In place also where thou hast never been
Both man and child doth piteously thee moan.
They say, 'Alas, thou art far overseen
By thine offences to be thus dead and gone'.

Ah! Weston, Weston, that pleasant was and young,
In active things who might with thee compare?
All words accept that thou diddest speak with tongue,
So well esteemed with each where thou diddest fare.
And we that now in court doth lead our life
Most part in mind doth thee lament and moan;
But that thy faults we daily hear so rife,
All we should weep that thou art dead and gone.

Brereton farewell, as one that least I knew.
Great was thy love with divers as I hear,
But common voice doth not so sore thee rue
As other twain that doth before appear;
But yet no doubt but thy friends thee lament
And other hear their piteous cry and moan.
So doth each heart for thee likewise relent
That thou givest cause thus to be dead and gone.

Ah! Mark, what moan should I for thee make more,
Since that thy death thou hast deserved best,
Save only that mine eye is forced sore
With piteous plaint to moan thee with the rest?
A time thou haddest above thy poor degree,
The fall whereof thy friends may well bemoan:
A rotten twig upon so high a tree
Hath slipped thy hold, and thou art dead and gone.

And thus farewell each one in hearty wise!
The axe is home, your heads be in the street;
The trickling tears doth fall so from my eyes
I scarce may write, my paper is so wet.
But what can hope when death hath played his part,
Though nature's course will thus lament and moan?
Leave sobs therefore, and every Christian heart
Pray for the souls of those be dead and gone.

Recovery (Sonnet 28)

In 1536-7, Wyatt began a stable relationship with Elizabeth Darrell - his final mistress. This is the original version of the sonnet; later, the line "Her that did set a country in a roar" was changed to "Brunet, that set my wealth in such a roar". Did Wyatt decide that an over-explicit reference to Anne Boleyn was too risky to include that openly?

If waker care, if sudden pale colour,
If many sighs, with little speech to plain,
Now Joy, now woe, if they my cheer disdain,
For hope of small, if much to fear therefore;
To haste to slack my pace less or more,
Be sign of love, then do I love again.
If thou ask whom; sure, since I did refrain
Her that did set our country in a roar,
Th'unfeigned cheer of Phyllis hath the place
That Brunet had; she hath and ever shall.
She from myself now hath me in her grace:
She hath in hand my wit, my will, my all.
My heart alone well worthy she doth stay,
Without whose help, scant do I live a day.