What sorrow Nature doth sustain,
For Astrophil, by Envy slain.
And while I followed with mine eye
The flight the eagle upward took;
All things did vanish by and by,
And disappearèd from my look.
The trees, beasts, birds and grove were gone:
So was the friend that made this moan.
This spectacle had firmly wrought
A deep compassion in my sprite;