Classic Poem

Was it decreed by fates too certaine doome,
That vnder Cancer's Tropique (where the Sunne
Still doth his race in hottest circuite runne)
My minde should dwell, and in none other roome,
Where comfortes all be burnt, before the bloome?
Was it concluded (by remorse-lesse fate)
That vnder-neath Th'Erimanthian beare,
Beneath the Lycaonian Axel-tree,
(Where ceaselesse snowes and frostes extremitie
Hold Iurisdiction) should remaine my feare,
Where all mine hopes be nip'te, before the beare?
Was it thus ordred that (till my deathes date)
When Phoebus runnes on our Meridian lyne,
When mistes fall downe beneath our Hemi-sphoere,
And Cynthia with darke Antipod's doth shine,
That my dispaier should hold his mansion there?
Where did the fatall sisters this assigne?
Euen when this Iudgement to them was awarded,
The silent sentence issew'd from her eyne,
Which neither pittie, nor my cares regarded.