The like of it no man again can finde: From East to West still seking though he went. (5) To mine vnhappe for happe away hath rent, Of all my ioy the very bark and rinde: And I (alas) by chance am thus assinde, Dayly to moorne till death do it relent. But sins that thus it is by desteny, (10) What can I more but haue a wofull hart, My penne, in plaint, my voyce in carefull cry: My minde in wo, my body full of smart, And I my self, my selfe alwaies to hate, Till dreadfull death do ease my dolefull state.
The louer sendeth sighes to
mone his sute. +
G O burning sighes vnto the frosen hart, Go breake the yse with pities painfull dart. +Might neuer perce and if that mortall praier, In heauen be heard, at lest yet I desire. (5) That death or mercy end my wofull smart. Take with thee pain, wherof I haue my part, And eke the flame from which I cannot start. And leaue me then in rest, I you require: Go burning sighes fulfill that I desire. (10) I must go worke I see by craft and art, For truth and faith in her is laid apart: Alas, I can not therfore now assaile her, With pitefull complaint and scalding fier, That from my brest disceiuably doth start.
Complaint of the absence
of his loue. +
S O feble is the threde, that doth the burden stay, Of my poore life: in heauy plight, that falleth in decay: That, but it haue elswhere some ayde or some succours: The running spindle of my fate anone shall end his course. +(5) For sins thunhappy hower, that did me to depart, From my swete weale: one onely hope hath stated my life, apart: Which doth perswade such wordes vnto my sored minde: