Classic Poem

O SWEET the time, when neither folly might
Mislead your hopes, nor alter old decrees.
O happy Truth when as with sweet delight,
She laboured still for conscience not for fees.
O blessed time, when Zeal with bended knees,
'Gan bless the heavens, that bent their powers divine,
The English hearts to wisdom to incline.

But now refused, disdained and set at nought,
Enforced to seek for rest in place unknown,
I wail, poor wretch, that no redress is sought.
But well I wot, my griefs are not mine own,
Some bear a part and help to wail my moan,
But all in vain: such colours now are made,
That those would mend the miss, do dance in shade.

This said, bewetting all the place with tears,
And from her eyes expelling floods of moan,
Her lovely locks bespread about her ears,
She waved her wings as willing to be gone:
And after pause, she soared away anon,
And thus she said: You Islanders adieu,
You banished me, before I fled from you.