Phaleuciack I

Time nor place did I want, what held me tongue-tied?
What charms, what magical abused altars?
Wherefore wished I so oft that hour unhappy,
When with freedom I might recount my torments,
And plead for remedy by true lamenting?
Dumb, nay dead, in a trance I stood amazed,
When those looks I beheld that late I longed for:
No speech, no memory, no life remained;
Now speech prateth apace, my grief bewraying;
Now bootless memory my plaints rememb'reth;
Now life moveth again, but all avails not.
Speech, life, and memory die altogether;
With speech, life, memory, love only dies not.