Vpon an holy Saintes eue
(As I tooke my pilgrimadge)
Wandring through the forrest warye
(Blest be that holy sainte)
I mette the louely Virgine Marye
And kneeled with long trauell fainte
Performing my dew homage,
My teares fore told mine hart did greeue
Yet Mary would not me releeue.

Her I did promise euery yeare,
The firstling faemale of my flocke
That in my loue she would me furder:
I curst the dayes of my first loue,
My comfortes spoiles, my pleasures murther:
She, she alas did me reproue,
My suites (as to a stonie rocke)
Were made, for she would not giue eare.
Ah loue, deare loue, loue bought to deare!

Mary , my sainte chast, and milde
Pittie, ah pittie my suite;
Thou art a virgine, pittie mee:
Shine eyes, though pittie wanting
That she by them my greefe may see
And looke on mine hart panting:
But her deafe eares, and tonge mute
Shewes her hard hart vnreconcil'de,
Hard hart, from all remorse exil'de.