MADRIGALL

DEare Night, the ease of Care,
Untroubled Seat of Peace,
Times eldest Child, which oft the blind do see,
On this our Hemispheare
What makes thee now so sadly darke to be?
Com'st thou in funerall Pomp Her Grave to grace?
Or do those Stars which should thy horrour cleare,
In Joves high Hall advise,
In what Part of the skies,
With them, or Cynthia she shall appeare?
Or (ah alas) because those matchlesse eyes,
Which shone so faire, below thou dost not find,
Striv'st thou to make all others Eyes look blind?