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[Give pardon (blessed soule) to my bold cryes]
 
 
 
 
 
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lxxviii

[Give pardon (blessed soule) to my bold cryes]

Give pardon (blessed soule) to my bold cryes
If they (importun'd) interrupt thy song,
Which nowe with joyfull notes thou sing'st, among
The angel-quiristers of heav'nly skyes.
Give pardon eake (sweet soule) to my slow eyes,
That since I saw thee now it is so long,
And yet the teares that unto thee belong
To thee as yet they did not sacrifice.
I did not know that thou wert dead before,
I did not feel the griefe I did susteine;
The greater stroke astonisheth the more,
Astonishment takes from us sence of paine;
I stood amaz'd when others' teares begun,
And now begin to weepe, when they have doone.