Thou me feed’st, whom have I other
Held my stay, or made my song? [[186]]
Yea, when all me so misdeemed,
I to most a monster seemed
Yet in thee my hope was strong.
Yet of thee the thankful story
Filled my mouth: thy gratious glory
Was my ditty all the day.
Do not then, now age assaileth,
Courage, verdure, vertue faileth,