Classic Poem

Needes must I ALBA leave, yet she'le not part,
Though I doe love her, yet still my Desire,
Seekes her to keepe in Closet of my Hart;
And though she doth against me thus conspire,
Yet with my Soule, I must her Error moane,
Since so unkindelie she her selfe hath showne.

My secret griefes Ile in my selfe disjest;
The world shall never know her hatefull Pride,
Her shame (my Bane) I will conceale in brest,
And as a Monument there shall it bide.
ALBA farewell, all pittie now is fled,
And since tis so, Adew, I am but Dead.

But thou (my Hart) come thou from her thy way;
Tis time (I thinke) to leave that witching face,
Where too too much unkindenes still doth stay;
For Loyall Love, there is no resting place.
Simple Goodwill, to sojourne findes it vaine,
Where Thoughts are falls, and Double do remaine.

My nere stainde Faith, my life shall testifie,
To future Age, that shall hereafter come,
To shew the world my spotles Loyaltie:
And yet perhaps againe may shine the Sunne,
When as my Trueth unto her being knowne,
She may at last receive me for her owne.