'Tis now dead night, and not a light on earth

'Tis now dead night, and not a light on earth,
Or star in heaven, doth shine:
Let now a mother mourn the noblest birth
That ever was both mortal and divine.
O sweetness peerless! more than human grace!
O flowery beauty! O untimely death!
Now, Music, fill this place
With thy most doleful breath:
O singing wail a fate more truly funeral,
Than when with all his sons the sire of Troy did fall.

Sleep, Joy! die, Mirth! and not a smile be seen,
Or show of heart's content!
For never sorrow nearer touched a Queen,
Nor were there ever tears more duly spent.
O dear remembrance, full of rueful woe!
O ceaseless passion! O unhuman hour!
No pleasure now can grow,
For withered is her flower.
O anguish do thy worst and fury tragical,
Since fate in taking one hath thus disordered all.