Sions Elegies: Threnodia III, Eleg. 5

EXil'd from Heaven, I wander to and fro,
And seeke for streames, as Stags new stricken doe,
And like a wandring Hart I flee the Hounds,
With Arrowes deeply fixed in my wounds;
My deadly Hunters with a winged pace,
Pricke forwards, and pursue their weary chace,
They whoope, they hollow me, deride, & flout me,
That flee from death, yet carrie death about me:
Excesse of torments hath my soule deceiv'd
Of all her joyes, of all her powres bereiv'd.
O curious griefe, that hast my soule brim-fill'd
With thousand deaths, and yet my soule not kill'd!