Thyrsis in Despaire

SAd night of sorrow! sable night of grief!
For Lovers torments is there no releif?
Must still my bitter food be grief, and fears?
My thirst quench'd howerly with my brinie tears?
No glimmering of the Day of hope arise!
Nothing but darkness mussle up the skies
From my numm'd sight? I in the Bed of care
Do roul; distress behems me round; dispaire
Like curtains shuts me up. Come pale fac'd Hag,
And let not leaden plummets make thee lag:
With open arms I doe embrace thy Dart,
Which can give physick to my wounded Heart.
They say grief that descends to words is weak
Mine is grown so I can no farther speak.
But by my Death I to Corinna prove
Will, that she tryumphs o're me and my Love.