Xxxvii

Each beast in field doth wish the morning light; The birds to Hesper pleasant lays do sing; The wanton kids well-fed rejoice in night, Being likewise glad when day begins to spring. But night nor day are welcome unto me, Both can bear witness of my lamentation; All day sad sighing Corin you shall see, All night he spends in tears and exclamation. Thus still I live although I take no rest, But living look as one that is a-dying; Thus my sad soul with care and grief oppressed, Seems as a ghost to Styx and Lethe flying. Thus hath fond love bereft my youthful years Of all good hap before old age appears.