Βιοθάνατος

VILE ingratefull Me,
That I should Live, & not in Thee
Not to thy
Praise, from whome
All this my
Life doth come !
What Riddle's this, that I should strive
Onely against my Life to Live !

Against Thee, gentle LOVE,
Life of my Life, long have I strove,
Still misusing
Thy sweet Grace,
Still refusing
To give place
To mine own Bliss, which Thou with thy
Milde Yoke about my neck wouldst ty.

And thus, alas I have
All this wide World but for my grave ;
Where the Stone
Which doth ly
Heavy on
Me and my
Earth-hamperd Thoughts, is onely this
Unhappy Hearts Obdurateness.