The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden With "A Cypresse Grove": Edited by L. E. Kastner |
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Son. [xxviii]
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 | The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden |  |
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Son. [xxviii]
[Sound hoarse sad Lute, true Witnesse of my Woe]
Sound hoarse sad Lute, true Witnesse of my Woe,And striue no more to ease selfe-chosen Paine
With Soule-enchanting Sounds, your Accents straine
Vnto these Teares vncessantly which flow.
Shrill Treeble weepe, and you dull Basses show
Your Masters Sorrow in a deadly Vaine,
Let neuer ioyfull Hand vpon you goe,
Nor Consort keepe but when you doe complaine.
Flie Phœbus Rayes, nay, hate the irkesome Light,
Woods solitarie Shades for thee are best,
Or the blacke Horrours of the blackest Night,
When all the World (saue Thou and I) doth rest:
Then sound sad Lute, and beare a mourning Part,
Thou Hell may'st mooue, though not a Womans Heart.
| The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden | |