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O HAPPY dames that may embrace The fruit of your delight ; Help to bewail the woful case, And eke the heavy plight, Of me, that wonted to rejoice The fortune of my pleasant choice : Good ladies ! help to fill my mourning voice. In ship freight with rememberance Of thoughts and pleasures past, He sails that hath in governance My life while it will last ; With scalding sighs, for lack of gale, Furthering his hope, that is his sail, Toward me, the sweet port of his avail. Alas ! how oft in dreams I see Those eyes that were my food ; Which sometime so delighted me, That yet they do me good : Wherewith I wake with his return, Whose absent flame did make me burn : But when I find the lack, Lord ! how I mourn. When other lovers in arms across, Rejoice their chief delight ; Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss, I stand the bitter night In my window, where I may see Before the winds how the coulds flee : Lo ! what a mariner love hath made of me. And in green waves when the salt flood Doth rise by rage of wind ; A thousand fancies in that mood Assail my restless mind. Alas ! now drencheth my sweet foe, That with the spoil of my heart did go, And left me ; but, alas ! why did he so ? And when the seas wax calm again, To chase from me annoy, My doubtful hope doth cause me plain ; So dread cuts off my joy. Thus is my wealth mingled with woe : And of each thought a doubt doth grow ; Now he comes ! will he come ? alas ! no, no!
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