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My friend in such a time I am,
Where I shall speake more then I would,
That though mine ill, which lately came,
Cannot be vttered (as it should:)
Yet (Shepherd) would I thinke it good,
To hold my peace if that I could.
But woe is me, that this great ill
I come to tell, and publish it
In such a time against my will,
That it auailes not any whit
Thy iourney to delay a while,
Nor these my torments to beguile.
Why goest thou hence (O Shepherd) tell:
Why wilt thou now forsake me heere?
So full of greefe alone to dwell,
Where time, and place, and all the deere,
And sweetest ioyes of this our loue
Shall neuer from my minde remooue.
What shall I feele (vnhappy wight)
Comming vnto this pleasant greene,
When I shall say (Farewell sweete sight)
Heere haue I my Syrenus seene;
Heere did we sit, heere did we play,
Discoursing with him day by day.
Behold if that it will not bee
A daily sorrow, when these bankes
I doe beholde, and cannot see
Thy selfe, where goodly trees in rankes
And in their barke my name to stand
Carued so finely by thy hand.
And see if any greefe or dole
Is like to this, when I behold
The place so sorrowfull and sole,
Where deere Syrenus with a cold
And trembling feare thou didst protest
Thy greefe to me within thy brest.
If then thy hart (so cruell now)
Is mollified by falling teares,
How melts it not for greefe, and how
Consumes it not with many feares,
At this occasion (so vniust)
To leaue my comfort in the dust?
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