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Alfonso Ferrabosco

Ayres

1609


XVII.

      1  Shall I seeke to ease my griefe ?
      No my sight is lost with eying;
      Shall I speak and beg reliefe ?
      No my voyce is hoarse with crying.
            What remaines but onely dying ?

      2  Loue and I of late did part,
      But the Boy my peace enuying,
      Like a Parthian threw his dart,
      Backward and did wound me flying.
            What remaines but onely dying ?

      3  She whom then I looked one,
      My remembrance beautifying
      Stayes with me, though I am gone,
      Gone, and at her mercy lying.
            What remaynes, but onely dying ?

      4  Thus my vitall breath doth wast,
      And my blood with sorrow drying,
      Sighes and teares make life to last,
      For a while his place supplying.
            What remaynes but onely dying ?
      

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