Tottel sig. Qir

[sig. Qir]

(245) For all must end as doth my blisse: There is none other certeintie. And at the end the worst is his, That most hath knowen prosperitie. For he that neuer blisse assaied, (250) May well away with wretchednesse: But he shall finde that hath it sayd, A pain to part from pleasantnesse: As I do now, for ere I knew What pleasure was, I felt no griefe, (255) Like vnto this, and it is true, That blisse hath brought me all this mischiefe. But yet I haue not songen, how This mischiefe came: but I intend With wofull voyce to sing it now: (260) And therwithall I make an end. But Lord, now that it is begoon, I fele, my sprites are vexed sore. Oh, geue me breath till this be done: And after let me liue no more. (265) Alas, the enmy of this life, The ender of all pleasantnesse: Alas, he bringeth all this strife, And causeth all this wretchednesse. For in the middes of all the welth, (270) That brought my hart to happinesse: This wicked death he came by stelth, And robde me of my ioyfulnesse. He came, when that I litle thought Of ought, that might me vexe so sore: (275) And sodenly he brought to nought My pleasantnesse for euermore. He slew my ioy (alas, the wretch) He slew my ioy, or I was ware: And now (alas) no might may stretch (280) To set an end to my great care. For by this cursed deadly stroke, My blisse is lost, and I forlore: And no helpe may the losse reuoke: For lost it is for euermore. (285) And closed vp are those faire eyes, That gaue me first the signe of grace: