Sions Elegies: Threnodia III, Eleg. 2

BOndage hath forc'd my servile necke to faile
Beneath her load; Afflictions nimble flayle
Hath thrasht my soule upon a floore of stones,
And quasht the marrow of my broken bones,
Th' assembled powres of Heaven enrag'd, are eager
To root me out: Heavens souldiers doe beleager
My worried soule, my soule unapt for fleeing,
That yeelds o'reburthen'd with her tedious being
Th' Almighties hand hath clouded all my night,
And clad my soule with a perpetuall light,
A night of torments, and eternall sorrow,
Like that of Death, that never findes a morrow.