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A Musicall Dreame

Robert Iones



XVII. When I sit reading all alone

       When I sit reading all alone that secret booke
           Wherein I sigh to looke
           How many spots there bee,
           I wish I could not see,
             Or from my selfe might flee.

       Mine eyes for refuge then with zeale befixe the skies,
           My teares doe cloude those eyes,
           My sighes doe blow them drie,
           And yet I liue to die,
             My selfe I cannot flie.

       Heauens I implore, that knowes my fault, what shall I doe,
           To hell I dare not goe,
           The world first made me rue,
           My selfe my griefes renew,
             To whome then shall I sue.

       Alasse, my soule doth faint to draw this doubtfull breath,
           Is there no hope in death,
           O yes, death ends my woes :
           Death me from me will lose,
             My selfe am all my foes.


Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer