Classic Poem

Fredericke the fift, Count Palatine of the Rhein .
How like a golden dreame you met and parted,
That pleasing straight doth vanish:
O, who can ever banish
The thought of one so princely and free harted!
But hee was pul'd up in his prime by fate,
And love for him must mourne, though all too late.
Teares to the dead are due, let none forbid
Sad harts to sigh: true griefe cannot be hid.

Yet the most bitter storme to height encreased
By heav'n againe is ceased:
O time, that all things movest,
In griefe and joy thou equall measure lovest:
Such the condition is of humane life,
Care must with pleasure mixe, and peace with strife:
Thoughts with the dayes must change; as tapers waste,
So must our griefes; day breakes when night is past.