Page 82
Actus Tertius. (Book 3)
Scena Prima.
MIRTILLO.
SPring, the yeers youth, fair Mother of new flowrs,
New leaves, new loves, drawn by the winged hours,
Thou art return'd; but the felicity
Thou brought'st me last is not return'd with thee.
Thou art return'd, but nought returns with thee
Save my lost joyes regretfull memory.
Thou art the self same thing thou wert before,
As fair and jocund: but I am no more
The thing I was, so gracious in her sight
Who is Heav'ns master-piece, and Earth's delight,
" O bitter-sweets of Love! Far worse it is
" To love then never to have tasted blisse.
" But O how sweet were Love, if it could not
" Be lost, or being lost could be forgot!
Though if my hopes (as mine are wont to be)
Are not of glasse, or my love make me see