I saw a Phoenix in the wood alone,
With purple wings, and crest of golden hewe:
Strange bird he was, whereby I thought anone,
That of some heavenly wight I had the vewe;
Untill he came unto the broken tree,
And to the spring that late devoured was.
What say I more? each thing at last we see
Doth passe away: the Phoenix there, alas!
Spying the tree destroid, the water dride,
Himselfe smote with his beake, as in disdaine,
And so foorthwith in great despight he dide;
That yet my heart burnes, in exceeding paine,
For ruth and pitie of so haples plight:
O, let mine eyes no more see such a sight!
At last so faire a Ladie did I spie,
That thinking yet on her I burne and quake.
On hearbs and flowres she walked pensively,
Milde, but yet love she proudly did forsake :
White seem'd her robes, yet woven so they were,
As snow and golde together had been wrought;
Above the wast a darke cloude shrouded her.
A stinging Serpent by the heele her caught,
Wherewith she languisht as the gathered floure;
And, well assur'd, she mounted up to joy.
Alas! on earth so nothing doth endure,
But bitter griefe and sorrowfull annoy,
Which make this life wretched and miserable,
Tossed with stormes of fortune variable.
When I beheld this tickle trustles state
Of vaine worlds glorie, flitting too and fro,
And mortall men tossed by troublous fate
In restles seas of wretchednes and woe,
I wish I might this weary life forgoe,
And shortly turne unto my happie rest,
Where my free spirite might not any moe
Be vext with sights that doo her peace molest.
And ye, faire Ladie, in whose bounteous brest