Xxiii

O lightsome day, the lampe of highest Jove, First made by him, mens wandring wayes to guyde, When darkenesse he in deepest dongeon drove, Henceforth thy hated face for ever hyde, And shut up heavens windowes shyning wyde: For earthly sight can nought but sorrow breed, And late repentance, which shall long abyde. Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed, But seeled up with death,° shall have their deadly meed.