Classic Poem

The fansy, which that I haue serued long,
That hath alway bene enmy to myne ease,
Semed of late to rue vpon my wrong,
And bad me flye the cause of my misease.
And I forthwith dyd prease out of the throng,
That thought by flight my painfull hart to please
Som other way: tyll I saw faith more strong:
And to my self I sayd: alas, those dayes
In vayn were spent, to runne the race so long.
And with that thought, I met my guyde, that playn
Out of the way wherin I wandred wrong,
Brought me amiddes the hylles, in base Bullayn:
Where I am now, as restlesse to remayn,
Against my will, full pleased with my payn.