Vnderneath a Cypris shade, the Queene of Loue sat mourning, Casting downe the Rosie wreaths, Her heauenly brow adorning : Quenching fiery sighes with teares, But yet her hart still burning. 2 For within the shady mourne, the cause of her complaining, Mirrhas Sonne the leavy bowres did haunt, her loue disdaining, Counting all her true desires, in his fond thoughts but faining. 3 Why is youth with beauty grast, vnfeeleing Iudge of vnkindnesse, Spotting loue with the foule report of crueltie and blindnesse, Forceing to vnkind complaints, the Queene of all diuinenesse. 4 Stint thy teares faire Seaborne Queene, & greife in vaine lamented, When desire hath burnt his hart, that thee hath discontented, Then to late the scorne of youth, by age shall be repented.
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