 | The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
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Son. [xxv]
[Deare Quirister, who from those Shaddowes sends]
Deare Quirister, who from those Shaddowes sends
(Ere that the blushing Dawne dare show her Light)
Such sad lamenting Straines, that Night attends
Become all Eare, Starres stay to heare thy Plight.
If one whose Griefe euen Reach of Thought transcends,
Who ne're (not in a Dreame) did taste Delight,
May thee importune who like Case pretends,
And seemes to ioy in Woe, in Woes Despight?
Tell me (so may thou Fortune milder trie,
And long long sing) for what thou thus complaines?
Sith (Winter gone) the Sunne in dapled Skie
Now smiles on Meadowes, Mountaines, Woods and Plaines:
The Bird, as if my questions did her moue,
With trembling Wings sobb'd foorth I loue, I loue.
| The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden
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