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My dearest hopes) whene’er I poured

the tale of what my soul endured

Into Fair-Welcome’s willing ear,

Caused me to pay my rashness dear,

Dashing from out my hand the cup

Of happiness ere yet a sup

My lips had tasted. So it is

That Fortune’s fickle hand, ywis,

A man full oft will raise amain,

Then cast him to the ground again;

Now smiles she sweetly, now a frown

O’erspreads her visage; this one down

She casteth, but anon, on high

Will raise another suddenly,

For she the fate of men resolveth,

E’en as her restless wheel revolveth.

Alas! now falls on me the shock

Of Fortune; walls and moat bemock

My hopes, and promised happiness

Gives way to weeping and distress;

Since now forbidding walls enclose

At once Fair-Welcome and the Rose.

Deprived of these and left alone,

All hope is past, all comfort gone.

If Love desire that I should live,

Nought can avail unless he give

Fair-Welcome to mine arms again,

The source of joy, the cure of pain.

Ah! sweet Fair-Welcome! though you be

Set fast in cruel slavery,

I pray you, keep for me my heart,

Nor let fierce Jealousy dispart