 | The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie |  |
XXXIV. [THE SAME.]
Melpomene, my mirthles murning Muse!Wouchsaiv to help a wrechit woman weep,
Vhose chanch is cassin that sho can not chuse
Bot sigh, and sobbe, and soun, vhen sho suld sleep.
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Nor cative Cresside, vhair sho lipper lay.
Dispair hes dround my hapeless hope so deep,
My sorrie song is, oh and welauay!
Euen as the oul that dar not sie the day,
For feir [of foulis that then about do proull,]
So am I nou, exyld from honour ay,
Compaird to Cresside and the vgly oull.
Fy, lothsome lyfe! Fy, death, that dou not [serve me]
Bot quik and dead a bysin thow must [preserve me].
| The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | |