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As furious windes in raging seas
The teares, that all to little ease,
The mariners with carefull hart doe shill:
For more they crie, the more it rageth still.
Thy loue Syrenus was not fine and good,
Which in these fieldes to me thou didst once beare,
When as my errour might offend it so:
Remember (Traitour) what thou then didst sweare,
Neere to the riuer sitting in this wood:
What then doth now thy hardnes seeme to show?
Shall not a small obliuion long agoe
Be helpt by extreme loue?
And such, that shall be far aboue
My passed hate, and fault before?
Then since I cannot loue thee more
Nor satisfie the same with greater heate;
For remedie, my death I will intreate.
Liue yet in paine, the which I feele at last
For thee who mak’st my sorrowes lesse appeere,
Though more it hurtes my wretched soule, I see,
Bicause to haue thy present figure heere,
Giues to her thought a sweete delight some tast,
Who paining for thy sake doth thinke on thee.
But bend thy hart a little vnto me,
Ardent in my request.
Thou seest I liue in paine opprest,
Sustain’d by this desire alone,
In all my life to heare but one
(No) if thou wilt, in that I most doe loue:
But from a man so fierce what shall I proue?
Tell me, the fauours how canst thou requite
In that time past, Syrenus, when thy hart
Thou hadst more tender, now in hardnes dead:
When (Traitour) for my cause, with enuies smart
A thousand Shepherdes thou didst kill outright:
O ioyfull time, and life that I did leade:
The vale shall witnes, and the pleasant meade,
Where I of Roses white
And sweetest flowers, with delight
Braue garlands for thy head I had
Compacted, and sometimes did adde
(Only for thy content) some of my haire,
Which greeuous thought my life doth now impaire.
Now free, thou dost abhorre me, in the end,
Who, for thy sake her selfe in paine consumes:
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