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He sawe Diana come so sad,
And yet so faire, so fresh and yong,
That where she cast her star like eies,
With colours braue the meades she dies.
Her face as faire and fresh as flower,
And yet so sorrowfull againe,
That none could iudge at that same hower,
Whether her greefe and inward paine,
Or her braue beautie did surpasse?
In her so faire, and sad (alas.)
Thus comming many a time she staide,
Casting vnto the ground her eies,
So comfortlesse and so dismade,
And sometimes vp into the skies,
That there they hung with greefe in steede
Of two bright stars, like stars in deede.
Saying with greater greefe of minde
(Then humane thought can once conceaue)
Since such annoy in ioy I finde:
From this day (loue) well maist thou leaue
Thy ioies vnto thy selfe to keepe,
And me, to feede no more but sheepe.
The cause of all her greefe and woe,
Which she by absence wrong did feare,
There did she very cleerely showe,
And if she wasted many a teare,
Aske but those blasing eies, which still
With passions did Syrenus kill.
If that her loue had euer peere,
Her goodnes there hid not the same:
And if that absence cost her deere,
Or feared her before it came,
This song aboue each other thing
Can tell, which she with teares did sing.
Dianas song.
O Loue thou gau’st me not the ioy,
That in sweete presence I did finde,
But that in absence the annoy
Should seeme more greeuous to my minde.
Thou giuest ease, thou giuest rest,
But not to giue content but guile,
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