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A Musicall Dreame



Robert Iones

1609

 

XVII. When I sit reading all alone


               1
       When I sit reading all alone that secret booke
           Wherein I sigh to looke
           How many spots there bee,
           I wish I could not see,
             Or from my selfe might flee.

               2
       Mine eyes for refuge then with zeale befixe the skies,
           My teares doe cloude those eyes,
           My sighes doe blow them drie,
           And yet I liue to die,
             My selfe I cannot flie.

               3
       Heauens I implore, that knowes my fault, what shall I doe,
           To hell I dare not goe,
           The world first made me rue,
           My selfe my griefes renew,
             To whome then shall I sue.

               4
       Alasse, my soule doth faint to draw this doubtfull breath,
           Is there no hope in death,
           O yes, death ends my woes :
           Death me from me will lose,
             My selfe am all my foes.
    

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