Sonnet 3.

THe onely bird alone that Nature frames,
When weary of the tedious life shee liues,
By fier dies, yet finds new life in flames,
Hir ashes to hir shape new essence giues.

When onely I the onely wretched wight,
Wearie of life that breaths but sorrows blasts,
Pursues the flame of such a beautie bright,
That burnes my heart, and yet my life still lasts.

O Soueraigne light that with thy sacred flame
Consumes my life, reuiue me after this,
And make me (with the happie bird) the same
That dies to liue, by fauour of thy blisse.
This deede of thine shall shew a Goddesse power,
In so long death, to grant one liuing hower.