The fire to see my wrongs for anger burneth:
The aire in raine for my affliction weepeth:
The sea to ebbe for griefe his flowing turneth:
The earth with pitie dull the center keepeth:
Fame is with wonder blazed:
Time runnes away for sorow:
Place standeth still amazed
To see my night of evils, which hath no morow.
Alas, a lovely she no pitie taketh,
To know my miseries, but chaste and cruell:
My fall her glorie maketh,
Yet still her eyes give to my flames their fuell.
Fire burne me quite, till sense of burning leave me:
Aire let me draw no more thy breath in anguish:
Sea drownd in thee, of tedious life bereave me:
Earth take this earth, wherein my spirits languish.
Fame say I was not borne:
Time haste my dying hower:
Place see my grave uptorne:
Fire, aire, sea, earth, fame, time, place, shew your power.
Alas, from all their helpe I am exiled,
For hers am I, and death feares her displeasure.
Fie death, thou art beguiled,
Though I be hers, she makes of me no treasure.