Classic Poem

When P HEBVS bright was setled in the West,
And darknesse dimme, the earth had ouerspread:
When sylent night, that moues eche thing to rest,
With quyet pawse, had plaste me in my bed,
In slombring Dreame, me thought I heard a wyght,
His woes bewayle, that grewe through loues despyght.

Whose wearing weede and vestures all were greene,
Saue that his loynes with black were girded rounde:
And on his brest a badge of blewe was seene,
In signe his fayth and truth remayned sounde.
He sighed oft and said, O blissul hier,
When hope with hap, may ioye in his desier.

But still to hope, and finde therein no fruite,
To be in bed, and restlesse there remayne:
To seeke to serue, and daylie make pursute,
To such as set but light of weary payne,
Doth breede such balefull dole within the brest,
As quyte bereaues all ioye and quyet rest.

Though taste of sower, deserue the sweete to gayne,
Yet cruell Fate I see the same denyes:
So that desyre and wisdome prooues but vayne,
Without accorde and fauour of the Skyes.
But stedfast hope, seeme not (quoth he) to quayle,
The heauens in tyme, may turne to thine auayle,
Scarse had he thus his wofull speeche concluded,
When wake I did, and sawe my selfe deluded.