Classic Poem

False hope prolongs my ever certaine griefe,
Traytour to me and faithfull to my Love:
A thousand times it promis'd me reliefe,
Yet never any true effect I prove.
Oft when I finde in her no truth at all,
I bannish her, and blame her trecherie;
Yet soone againe I must her backe recall,
As one that dyes without her companie.
Thus often as I chase my hope from mee,
Straight way she hastes her unto Delia's eyes;
Fed with some pleasing looke there shall she bee,
And so sent backe, and thus my fortune lyes
Lookes feede my Hope, Hope fosters me in vaine;
Hopes are unsure, when certaine is my paine.