Classic Poem

II.
How eas'ly wert thou chained,
Fond hart, by favours fained!
Why liv'd thy hopes in grace,
Straight to dye disdained?
But, since th' art now beguiled
By Love that falsely smiled,
In some lesse happy place
Mourne alone exiled.
My love still here increaseth,
And with my love my griefe,
While her sweet bounty ceaseth,
That gave my woes reliefe.
Yet 'tis no woman leaves me,
For such may prove unjust:
A Goddesse thus deceives me,
Whose faith who could mistrust?

A Goddesse so much graced
That Paradice is placed
In her most heav'nly brest,
Once by love embraced;
But love, that so kinde proved,
Is now from her removed,
Nor will he longer rest
Where no faith is loved.
If Powres Celestiall wound us
And will not yeeld reliefe,
Woe then must needs confound us,
For none can cure our griefe.
No wonder if I languish
Through burden of my smart;
It is no common anguish
From Paradice to part.