22.07.2007, 13:39
Let fortune triumph now, and Iö sing,
Sith I must fall beneath this load of care;
Let her, what most I prize of ev'ry thing,
Now wicked trophies in her temple rear.
She, who high palmy empires doth not spare,
And tramples in the dust the proudest king,
Let her vaunt how my bliss she did impair,
To what low ebb she now my flow doth bring;
Let her count how, a new Ixion, me
She in her wheel did turn, how high nor low
I never stood, but more to tortur'd be:
Weep, soul, weep, plaintful soul, thy sorrows know;
Weep, of thy tears till a black river swell,
Which may Cocytus be to this thy hell.
Sith I must fall beneath this load of care;
Let her, what most I prize of ev'ry thing,
Now wicked trophies in her temple rear.
She, who high palmy empires doth not spare,
And tramples in the dust the proudest king,
Let her vaunt how my bliss she did impair,
To what low ebb she now my flow doth bring;
Let her count how, a new Ixion, me
She in her wheel did turn, how high nor low
I never stood, but more to tortur'd be:
Weep, soul, weep, plaintful soul, thy sorrows know;
Weep, of thy tears till a black river swell,
Which may Cocytus be to this thy hell.