Then might he live, that now heere lyes.
But teares are tonguelesse, vowes are vaine,
5
T' recall what fate calls; els how faine
What death hath seis'd, wold I regaine.
But sure th' immortal one belaves
This wished soule in 's blissfull waves:
Ill comes too oft, when no man craves.
10
Rest, therefore, vrne, rest quietlye,