The Rocke of Regard diuided into foure parts. The first, the Castle of delight: Wherein is reported, the wretched end of wanton and dissolute liuing. The second, the Garden of Vnthriftinesse: Wherein are many sweete flowers, (or rather fancies) of honest loue. The thirde, the Arbour of Vertue: Wherein slaunder is highly punished, and vertuous Ladies and Gentlewomen, worthily commended. The fourth, the Ortchard of Repentance: Wherein are discoursed, the miseries that followe dicing, the mischiefes of quareling, the fall of prodigalitie: and the souden ouerthrowe of foure notable cousners, with diuers other morall, natural, & tragical discourses: documents and admonitions being all the inuention, collection and translation of George Whetstons |
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The thought of wonted ioyes, doubleth the miserable mans griefs.
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 | The Rocke of Regard |  |
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The thought of wonted ioyes, doubleth the miserable mans griefs.
I that
whose youth, was lul'd in pleasures lap,
Whose wanton yeres, were neuer chargd wt care
Who made no flight, but reacht the pitch of hap,
And now besieg'd, with griefe at vnawares,
How can my hart, but bleede to thinke on this?
My ioy with was, my woe is ioynd with is.
Whose wanton yeres, were neuer chargd wt care
Who made no flight, but reacht the pitch of hap,
And now besieg'd, with griefe at vnawares,
How can my hart, but bleede to thinke on this?
My ioy with was, my woe is ioynd with is.
With is? (Oh yea,) and euer wil be so:
Such hell is thought, to muse on ioyes forgone,
For though content, would faine appease my woe,
This myrthlesse note, continues fresh my mone,
O deare delight, with whome I dwelt in ioy,
Thy sowrest sweete, my sorrowes would destroy.
Such hell is thought, to muse on ioyes forgone,
For though content, would faine appease my woe,
This myrthlesse note, continues fresh my mone,
O deare delight, with whome I dwelt in ioy,
Thy sowrest sweete, my sorrowes would destroy.
Destroy it would, but Oh, those dayes are past,
When to my wil, I found dame fortune wrought,
My fancies cleare, with cares are ouer cast,
Yet bootelesse hope, will not forsake my thought,
But still proroges, my griefe, that else would dye,
To vaine effect, when I my toyling spye.
When to my wil, I found dame fortune wrought,
My fancies cleare, with cares are ouer cast,
Yet bootelesse hope, will not forsake my thought,
But still proroges, my griefe, that else would dye,
To vaine effect, when I my toyling spye.
| The Rocke of Regard | |