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285

[XIX. Alas, what a wretched life is this]

Alas, what a wretched life is this, Nay, what a death,
Wher the tyrant Loue commaundeth?
My flouring daies are in their prime declining,
All my proud hope, quite falne, and life vntwining:
My ioyes each after other, In hast are flying,
And leaue mee dying, For hir that skornes my crying:
O shee from hence departs, My Loue refraining,
For whom all hartles, Alas, I dye complayning.