Peter, After the Denial of His Master
Like to the solitary pelican,
The shady groves I haunt, and deserts wild,
Amongst woods' burgesses, from sight of man,
From earth's delight, from mine own self exil'd.
But that remorse which with my fall began,
Relenteth not, nor is by change turn'd mild,
But rents my soul, and like a famish'd child
Renews its cryes, though nurse does what she can.
Look how the shrieking bird that courts the night
In ruin'd wall doth lurk, and gloomy place:
Of sun, of moon, of stars, I shun the light,
Not knowing where to stay, what to embrace:
How to heaven's lights should I lift these of mine,
Sith I denyed him who made them shine?
The shady groves I haunt, and deserts wild,
Amongst woods' burgesses, from sight of man,
From earth's delight, from mine own self exil'd.
But that remorse which with my fall began,
Relenteth not, nor is by change turn'd mild,
But rents my soul, and like a famish'd child
Renews its cryes, though nurse does what she can.
Look how the shrieking bird that courts the night
In ruin'd wall doth lurk, and gloomy place:
Of sun, of moon, of stars, I shun the light,
Not knowing where to stay, what to embrace:
How to heaven's lights should I lift these of mine,
Sith I denyed him who made them shine?
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