University of Virginia Library

V.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[What harts content can he finde]

What harts content can he finde,
What happy sleepes can his eies embrace,
That beares a guiltie minde?
His tast sweet wines wil abhorre:
No musicks sounde can appease the thoughts
That wicked deeds deplore.
The passion of a present feare
Stil makes his restles motion there;
And all the day hee dreads the night,
And all the night, as one agast, hee feares the morning light

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But he that loves to be lov'd,
And in his deedes doth adore heavens power,
And is with pitie mov'd;
The night gives rest to his heart,
The cheerefull beames do awake his soule,
Revived in everie part.
He lives a comfort to his friendes,
And heaven to him such blessing sendes
That feare of hell cannot dismaie
His stedfast hart that is enurd the truth still to obey