And sleepinge body vnder Toumbe, shall dreame time out of mynde,
And yet the Loue, the Time, nor Death, lookes not how I decreace:
Nor geueth eare to any thinge, of this my wofull peace.
Full farre I am from my good hap, or halfe the ioye I craue,
Whereby I chaung my state wyth teares, and draw full neere my graue.
The courteous Gods that giues me lyfe, now mooues the Planets all:
For to arrest my groning ghost, and hence my sprite to call.
Yet from them still I am separd, by thinges vnequall heere,
Not ment the Gods may be vniust, that breedes my chaunging cheere.
For they prouide by their foresight, that none shall doe me harme: