POEM: THE SMOKES OF MELANCHOLY

I.

Who hath eer felt the change of love, And known those pangs that losers prove, May paint my face without seeing me, And write the state how my fancies be, The loathsome buds grown on Sorrows tree.

But who by hearsay speaks, and hath not fully felt What kind of fires they be in which those spirits melt, Shall guess, and fail, what doth displease, Feeling my pulse, miss my disease.

II.

O no! O no! trial only shows The bitter juice of forsaken woes; Where former bliss, present evils do stain; Nay, former bliss adds to present pain, While remembrance doth both states contain. Come, learners, then to me, the model of mishap, Ingulphed in despair, slid down from Fortunes lap; And, as you like my double lot, Tread in my steps, or follow not.

III.

For me, alas! I am full resolved Those bands, alas! shall not be dissolved; Nor break my word, though reward come late; Nor fail my faith in my failing fate; Nor change in change, though change change my state:

But always own myself, with eagle-eyed Truth, to fly Up to the sun, although the sun my wings do fry; For if those flames burn my desire, Yet shall I die in Phoenix fire.