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SONNET. XII.

[My cheeks bedew'd, my eies euē drown'd with teares]

My cheeks bedew'd, my eies euē drown'd with teares
O fearfull storme that causde so great a showre!
Griefe ty'd my tongue, sorrow did stop my eares,
Because earth lost her sweetest paramoure.
O cruell heauens and regardlesse fates!
If the worlds beautie had compassion'd you,
You might by powre haue shut deaths ebongates,
And been remorsefull at her heauenly view.
O foolish nature why didst thou create
A thing so faire, if fairenes be neglected?
But fairest things be subiect vnto fate,
And in the end are by the fates reiected.
Yong Emaric yet thou crost the destinie,
For thou suruiu'st in fame, that nere shall die.