The Shepherd Sylvanus his Song

My life, young shepherdess, for thee
Of needs to death must post;
But yet my grief must stay with me
After my life is lost.

The grievous ill by death that cured is
Continually hath remedy at hand,
But not that torment that is like to this,
That in slow time and Fortune's means doth stand.

And if this sorrow cannot be
Ended with life (at most).
What then doth this thing profit me,
A sorrow won or lost?

Yet all is one to me, as now I try
A flattering hope, or that that had not been yet;
For if to-day for want of it I die.
Next day I do no less for having seen it.

Fam would I die to end and free
This grief, that kills me most;
If that it might be lost with me,
Or die when life is lost.