Flow my teares fall from your springs
Exilde for ever: Let me morne
Where nights black bird hir sad infamy sings
There let me live forlorne
Downe vaine lights shine you no more
No nights are dark enough for those
That in dispaire their last fortunes deplore
Light doth but shame disclose
Never may my woes be relieved
Since pittie is fled
And teares, and sighes, and grones
My wearie days of all joyes have deprived
From the highest spire of contentment
My fortune is throwne
And feare, and griefe, and paine
For my deserts, are my hopes since hope is gone
Hark you shadowes that in darnesse dwell
Learn to contemne light
Happy that in hell
Feel not the worlds despite