Page:Elizabethan sonnet-cycles.djvu/116



sick of late, nature her due would have,

Great was my pain where still my mind did rest;

No hope but heaven, no comfort but my grave,

Which is of comforts both the last and least;

But on a sudden, the Almighty sent

Sweet ease to the distressed and comfortless,

And gave me longer time for to repent,

With health and strength the foes of feebleness;

Yet I my health no sooner 'gan recover,

But my old thoughts, though full of cares, retained,

Made me, as erst, become a wretched lover

Of her that love and lovers aye disdained.

Then was my pain with ease of pain increased,

And I ne'er sick until my sickness ceased.