The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania :: :: University of Virginia Library

Flye hence, O Ioy, no longer heere abide,
Too great thy pleasures are for my despaire
To looke on, losses now must proue my fare;
Who not long since on better foode relide.

But foole, how oft had I Heau'ns changing spi'de
Before of mine owne fate I could haue care:
Yet now past time I can too late beware,
When nothings left but sorrowes faster ty'de.

While I enioyd that Sunne, whose sight did lend
Me ioy, I thought that day could haue no end:
But soone a night came cloath'd in absence darke;

Absence more sad, more bitter then is gall,
Or death, when on true Louers it doth fall;
Whose fires of loue, disdaine reasts poorer sparke.