(35) And in hir deeds, I reaped such delight, As brought both will, and libertie to nought.
Therefore all hope of happines adue, Adue desire the source of all my care, Dispaire me tels my weale will nere renue, (40) Till this my soule, doth passe in Charons Crare.
Meane time my minde must suffer Fortunes skorne, My thoughts stil wound, like wounds that stil are green My weakned lyms, be laide on beds of thorne, My life decaies, although my death foreseene.
(45) Mine eies, now eies no more, but seas of teares, +Weepe on your fill, to coole my burning brest, Where Loue did place desire, twixt hope, and feares, (I saie) desire, the author of vnrest.
And (would to gods) Phillis where ere thou be, (50) Thy soule did see, the sowre of mine estate, My ioyes eclipst, for onely want of thee, My being with my selfe at foule debate.
My humble vowes, my sufferance of woe, My sobs, and sighes, my euerwatching eies, (55) My plaintife teares, my wandring to and froe, My will to die, my neuer ceasing cries.
No doubt but then, thy sorrows would perswade, The doome of death, to cut my vitall twist, +That I with thee, amidst th’infernall shade, (60) And thou with me, might sport vs as we list.
O if thou waite on faire Proserpines traine, And hearest Orpheus , neere th’Elisian springs, Entreat thy Queene, to free thee thence againe, And let the Thracian guide thee with his strings.
T. W. Gent.