Fortune, my foe, why dost thou frown on me?
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And will thy favors never lighter be?
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Wilt thou, I say, forever breed my pain?
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And wilt thou not restore my joys again?
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In vain I sigh, in vain I wail and weep,
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In vain my eyes refrain from quiet sleep;
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In vain I shed my tears both night and day;
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In vain my love my sorrows do bewray.
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Then will I leave my love in Fortune's hands,
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My dearest love, in most unconstant bands,
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And only serve the sorrows due to me:
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Sorrow, hereafter, thou shalt my Mistress be.
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Ah, silly Soul art thou so sore afraid?
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Mourn not, my dear, nor be not so dismayed.
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Fortune cannot, with all her power and skill,
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Enforce my heart to think thee any ill.
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Live thou in bliss, and banish death to Hell;
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All careful thoughts see thou from thee expel:
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As thou dost wish, thy love agrees to be.
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For proof thereof, behold, I come to thee.
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Die not in fear, not live in discontent;
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Be thou not slain where blood was never meant;
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Revive again: to faint thou hast no need.
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The less afraid, the better thou shalt speed.
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Fortune My Foe
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Akercocke |