A LAD , whose faith will constant prove,
And never know an end,
Late by an oversight in love
Displeased his dearest friend.
For which, incensed, she did retake
The favours which he wore,
And said, he never for her sake,
Should wear or see them more.

The grief whereof how near it went,
And how unkindly took,
Was figured by the discontent
Appeared in his look.
At first he could not silence break
(So heavy sorrow lay),
But when his sighs gave way to speak,
Thus sadly he did say:

" My only dear! " and with that speech
Not able to sustain
The floods of grief at sorrow's breach,
He paused awhile again.
At length (nigh fainting) did express
These words with much ado,
" O dear! let not my love's excess
Me and my love undo! "

She, little moved with his pain,
His much distraction eyed;
And changing love into disdain,
Thus (still unkind) replied: —
" Forbear to urge one kindness more,
Unless you long to see
The good respect you had before
At once all lost in me. "

With that dismayed, his suit he ceased,
And down his head he hung;
And as his reason's strength decreased
His passion grew more strong:
But seeing she did slight his moan,
With willow garlands wreathed,
He sat him down, and all alone,
This sad complaint he breathed: —

" O heavens! " quoth he, " why do we spend
Endeavours thus in vain,
Since what the fates do fore-intend,
They never change again?
Nor faith, nor love, nor true desert,
Nor all that man can do,
Can win him place within her heart
That is not born thereto.

" Why do I fondly waste my youth
In secret sighs and tears?
Why to preserve a spotless truth
Taste I so many cares?
For women that no worth respect
Do so ungentle prove,
That some shall win by their neglect
What others lose by love.

" Those that have set the best at nought,
And no man could enjoy,
At last by some base gull are caught,
And gotten with a toy.
Yea, they that spend an age's light
Their favours to obtain,
For one unwilling oversight
May lose them all again.

" How glad and fain, alas, would I,
For her have underwent
The greatest care, ere she should try
The smallest discontent.
Yet she that may my life command,
And doth my passions know,
Denieth me a poor demand
In height of all my woe.

" Oh, if the noblest of her time,
And best beloved of me,
Could for so poor, so slight a crime,
So void of pity be;
Sure had it been some common one
Whose patience I had tried;
No wonder I had been undone,
Or unforgiven died.

" A thousand lives I would have laid,
So well I once believed
She would have deigned to lend me aid
If she had seen me grieved;
But now I live to see the day
Where I presumed so,
I neither dare for pity pray,
Nor tell her of my woe.

" Yet let not, poor despised heart,
Her worth aught questioned be;
Had'st thou not failed in desert,
She had not failed thee.
But lest perhaps they flout thy moan
That should esteem thee dear,
Go make it by thyself alone,
Where none may come to hear.

" Still keep thy forehead crowned with smiles
What passions e'er thou try,
That some may laugh at thee, the whiles
Thou discontented lie.
And let no wrong by change distain
A love so truly fair,
But rather never hope again,
And thou shalt ne'er despair. "