 | A Margarite of America |  |
PIETATI.
O desarts be you peopled by my plaints,
And let your plantes by my pure teares be watred,
And let the birds whom my sad mone acquaint,
To heare my hymnes haue harmonie in hatred.
And let your plantes by my pure teares be watred,
And let the birds whom my sad mone acquaint,
To heare my hymnes haue harmonie in hatred.
Let all your sauage citizens refraine,
To haunt those bowers where I my woes bewray,
Let none but deepe dispaire with me remaine,
To haste my death when hope doth will me stay.
To haunt those bowers where I my woes bewray,
Let none but deepe dispaire with me remaine,
To haste my death when hope doth will me stay.
Let rocks remoue for feare they melt to heare me,
Let Eccho whist for dread shee die to answere:
So liuing thus where no delights come neere me,
My manie mones more moouing may appeare:
And in the depth of all when I am climing,
Let loue come by, see, sigh, and fall a crying.
Let Eccho whist for dread shee die to answere:
So liuing thus where no delights come neere me,
My manie mones more moouing may appeare:
And in the depth of all when I am climing,
Let loue come by, see, sigh, and fall a crying.
| A Margarite of America | |