Classic Poem

Now earthly Goddesse have thou some regarde
To me thy servant, craving what is just,
Though long at last, yeelde to me some rewarde,
Since I relie on thee, and wholy trust.
 Thinke on the pennance sore I doe endure,
 Which to my Soule, thine Absence doth procure.

Support my feeble Thoughts, that scarse can move,
For thou wert wont, such, better to commend,
Who would persist more loyall in their Love,
And persevere unto the latest end,
 Then those, who when Loves course they gan to run,
 Would give it ore, before halfe way were done.

I cannot doe so, for my longing Hart,
Is knit in thine, in such perfection strange,
That Death these twaine in sunder cannot part,
Nor length of Time, nor Places distance change:
 Thy Beautious Vertue, Vertuous Beautie tis,
 That makes me joy in noy, take Bale for blis.

Ah where art thou kinde Friendship that of yore,
Still with thy cheerefull smile, didst comfort mee?
And sweetely wouldst with me my state deplore,
When heavie, sad, and griev'd thou didst me see?
 Ah where are those Alcinoi daies as now?
 I Metamorphosde am, I know not how.