Classic Poem

He that did sing the motions of the stars,
Pale-colour'd Phoebus' borrowing of her light,
Aspects of planets oft oppos'd in jars,
Of Hesper, Henchman to the day and night;
Sings now of love, as taught by proof to sing,
Women are false, and love a bitter thing.
I lov'd Eurydice, the brightest lass,
More fond to like so fair a nymph as she;
In Thessaly so bright none ever was,
But fair and constant hardly may agree.
False-hearted wife to him that lov'd thee well,
To leave thy love and choose the prince of hell!

Theseus did help, and I in haste did hie
To Pluto, for the lass I loved so.
The god made grant, and who so glad as I?
I tun'd my harp, and she and I 'gan go:
Glad that my love was left to me alone,
I looked back, Eurydice was gone.

She slipp'd aside, back to her latest love;
Unkind, she wrong'd her first and truest fere.
Thus women's love's delight, as trial proves
By false Eurydice I lov'd so dear.
To change and fleet, and every way to shrink,
To take in love, and lose it with a wink.