SEXTAIN

SIth gone is my Delight and only Pleasure,
The last of all my Hopes, the chearefull Sun
That clear'd my lifes dark Spheare, Natures sweet Treasure,
More deare to me than all beneath the Moon,
What resteth now but that upon this Mountain
I weep, till Heaven transforme me to a Fountaine?

Fresh, faire, delicious, christall, pearly Fountaine,
On whose smooth face to look she oft took Pleasure,
Tell me (so may thy streames long cheare this Mountaine,
So Serpent ne're thee staine, nor scorch thee Sun,
So may with watry beames thee kisse the Moone)
Dost thou not mourne to want so faire a Treasure?

While she here gaz'd on thee, rich Tagus Treasure,
Thou neededst not envy, nor yet the Fountaine,
In which that Hunter saw the naked Moon,
Absence hath robb'd thee of thy Wealth and Pleasure,
And I remaine like Marigold of Sun
Depriv'd, that dies by shadow of some Mountaine.

Nymphs of the Forrests, Nymphs who on this Mountain
Are wont to dance, shewing your Beauties Treasure
To Goat-feet Sylvans, and the wondring Sun,
When as you gather flow'rs about this Fountaine,
Bid her farewell who placed here her Pleasure,
And sing her praises to the Stars and Moone.

Among the lesser lights as is the Moon,
Blushing through muffl…ng clouds on Latmos Mountaine,
Or when she views her silver Locks for Pleasure
In Thetis streames, proud of so gay a Treasure,
Such was my Faire when She sate by this Fountaine
With other Nymphs to shun the amorous Sun.

As is our Earth in absence of the Sun,
Or when of Sun deprived is the Moon,
As is without a verdant shade a Fountaine,
Or wanting grasse, a Mead, a Vale, a Mountaine;
Such is my state, bereft of my deare Treasure,
To know whose only worth was all my Pleasure.

Ne're thinke of Pleasure Heart, Eyes shun the Sun,
Teares be your Treasure, which the wandring Moon
Shall see you shed by Mountaine, Vaile, and Fountaine.