Imprisoned in liberties, As one vnheard, and still that cries: Alwayes thirsty, and naught doth taste, For dreade to fall, I stand not fast. (15) Assured I dout I be not sure, Should I then trust vnto such suretie? That oft haue put the proofe in vre, And neuer yet haue found it trustie? Nay syr in fayth, it were great folly. (20) And yet my life thus do I wast, For dread to fall I stand not fast.
The louer complaineth that his
loue doth not pitie him. +
R Esownde my voyce ye woodes, that heare me plain: Both hilles and vales causing reflexion, And riuers eke, record ye of my paine: Which haue oft forced ye by compassion, (5) As iudges lo to heare my exclamacion. Among whom, ruth (I finde) yet doth remaine. Where I it seke, alas, there is disdaine. Oft ye riuers, to heare my wofull sounde, Haue stopt your cours, and plainely to expresse, (10) Many a teare by moysture of the ground The earth hath wept to heare my heauinesse: Which causelesse I endure without redresse. The hugy okes haue rored in the winde, Eche thing me thought complayning in their kind. (15) Why then alas doth not she on me rew, Or is her hart so hard that no pitie May in it sinke, my ioye for to renew O stony hart who hath thus framed thee So cruell? that art cloked with beauty, (20) That from thee may no grace to me procede. But as reward death for to be my mede.