Xxv

False hope prolongs my ever certain grief, Traitor to me, and faithful to my love. A thousand times it promised me relief, Yet never any true effect I prove. Oft when I find in her no truth at all, I banish her, and blame her treachery; Yet soon again I must her back recall, As one that dies without her company. Thus often, as I chase my hope from me, Straightway she hastes her unto Delia's eyes; Fed with some pleasing look, there shall she be, And so sent back. And thus my fortune lies; Looks feed my hope, hope fosters me in vain; Hopes are unsure when certain is my pain.