Classic Poem

Alluding to the sparrow pursued by a Hauke that flew into the bosome of Zenocrates

Whilst by her eyes pursu'd, my poore hart flew it
Into the sacred bosome of my deerest,
She there in that sweete sanctuarie slew it,
Where it presum'd his safetie to be neerest
My priviledge of faith could not protect it,
That was with blood and three yeres' witnes signed;
In all which time she never could suspect it,
For well she sawe my love, and how I pined
And yet no comfort would her brow reveale mee,
No lightning looke, which falling hopes erecteth:
What bootes to lawes of succour to appeale mee?
Ladies and Tyrants never lawes respecteth
Then there I die, where hop'd I to have liven,
And by that hand, which better might have given.