The frostie vygyls of a cloysterr'd nun,
Insteade of faerie[10] love's effulgentt sonne!
Ne moe with myne wyll carolynge[11] beatt hie,
Gyve throbb for throbb, and sygh returne forr sygh,
Butt bee bie nyghtt congeall'dd bie lethall feares,
Bie daie consum'dd awaie inn unavaylynge teares!
MATYLDA.
Alas! howe soone is happlesse love ondonne,
Wytherr'd and deadde almostt beforre begunn:
Lych Marchh's openyng flowrs thatt sygh'dd forr Maie,