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 But Saints and Angels in celeſtiall thrones Eternally him praiſe, that hath them bleſt, There ſhall I be amongſt thoſe bleſſed ones.

Yet ere I goe, a pledge I leaue with thee Of the late loue, the which betwixt vs paſt, My yong Ambroſia, in lieu of mee Loue her: ſo ſhall our love for euer laſt. Thus deare adieu, whom I expect ere long: So hauing ſaid, away ſhe ſoftly paſt: Weep Shepheard weep, to make mine vnderſong.

So oft as I record thoſe piercing words, Which yet are deepe engrauen in my breſt, And thoſe laſt deadly accents, which like ſwords Did wound my heart and rend my bleeding cheſt, With thoſe ſweet ſugred ſpeaches doo compare, The which my ſoule firſt conquerd and poſſeſt, The firſt beginners of my endles care;

And when thoſe pallid cheekes and aſhy hew, In which ſad death his pourtraiture had writ, And when thoſe hollow eyes and deadly view, On which the clowde of ghaſtly night did fit, I match with that ſweet ſmile and chearfull brow, Which all the world ſubdued vnto it; How happie was I then, and wretched now?

How happie was I, when I ſaw her leade The Shepheards daughters dauncing in a rownd? How trimly would ſhe trace and ſoftly tread The tender graſſe with roſie garland crownd? And when ſhe lift adaunce her heauenly voyce, Both