POEM: SONG

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    To the tune of "Wilhelmus van Nassau," &c.

    Who hath his fancy pleas<big>９９ｌiｂ.</big>ed, With fruits of happy sight, Let here his eyes be raised On Natures sweetest light; A light which doth dissever, A uhe eyes; A light which, dying, never Is cause the looker dies.

    She never dies, but lasteth In life of lovers heart; He ever dies that wasteth In love his chiefest part>..</a>. Thus is her life still guarded, In never dying faith; Thus is his death rewarded, Since she lives in his death.

    Look then and die, the pleasure Doth answer wel<tt>?t>l the pain; Small loss of mortal treasure, Who may immortal gain. Immortal be her graces, Immortal is her mind; They, fit for heavenly places, This heaven in it doth bind.

    But eyes these beauties see not, Nor sehat grace descries; Yet eyes deprived be not From sight of her fair eyes: Which, as of inward glory They are the outward seal, So may they live still sorry, Which die not in that weal.

    But who <bdo></bdo>hath fancies pleased, With fruits of happy sight, Let here his eyes be raised On Natures sweetest light.

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