Woefull heart, with grief oppressèd!
Since my fortunes most distressèd
From my joys hath me removèd,
Follow those sweet eyes adorèd!
Those sweet eyes wherein are storèd
All my pleasures best belovèd.
Fly my breast—leave me forsaken—
Wherein Grief his seat hath taken,
All his arrows through me darting!
Thou mayst live by her sunshining:
I shall suffer no more pining
By thy loss than by her parting.