Classic Poem

I Viewe the fertile tree,
but fruite I none may get:
Most daintie foode I see,
yet starue for wante of meate.

Where drinke stands me before,
there greatest drougth I take:
My thirst encreast the more,
when most I would it slake.

So hunger stryues to feede,
when hap withholds repast,
So thirst craues drinke with speede,
when thrall sayth stay a cast.

Thus T ANTALS toyle I trie,
against the streame that rowe:
As hope would heaue me hie,
dispaire doth sinke me lowe.