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A Pilgrimes Solace

I o h n   D o w l a n d



4. Loue those beames that breede.

      Loue those beames that breede, all day long, breed and feed, this burning :
      Loue I quench with flouds, flouds of teares, nightly teares, and mourning.
      But alas, teares coole this fire in vaine,
      The more I quench, the more there doth remaine.

      Ile goe to the woods, and alone, make my moane, oh cruell :
      For I am deceiu'd and bereau'd of my life, my iewell.
      O but in the woods, though Loue be blinde,
      Hee hath his spies, my secret haunts to finde.

      Loue then I must yeeld to thy might, might and spight oppressed,
      Since I see my wrongs, woe is me, cannot be redressed.
      Come at last, be friendly Loue to me,
      And let me not endure this miserie.


Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer