Of thine eies I made my myrror; (10) From thy beautie came mine error: All thy words I counted wittie: All thy smyles I deemed pittie: Thy false teares that me agreeued, First of all my trust deceiued. (15) Sirene pleasant, &c.
Fain’d acceptance when I asked, Louely words with cunning masked; Holie vowes, but hart vnholie: Wretched man my trust was follie: (20) Lillie white, and pretie wincking, Solemne vowes, but sorie thinking. Sirene pleasant, &c.
Now I see, O seemely cruell, Others warme them at my fuell: (25) Wit shall guide me in this durance, Since in Loue is no assurance: Change thy pasture, take thy pleasure, Beautie is a fading treasure, Sirene pleasant, &c.
(30) Prime youth lasts not, age will follow, And make white these tresses yelow: Wrinckled face, for lookes delightfull, Shall acquaint the dame despitefull: And when time shall date thy glorie, (35) Then too late thou wilt be sorie. Sirene pleasant, &c.
T. L. Gent.