Classic Poem

[A curse]

Let th'earth deny thee fruit, and stream
his waters holde from thee:
Let every winde deny fitte blastes
for thy commoditie.
Let not the Sun shine bright on thee,
nor glistering Moone by night:
And of thy eyes let glimsing Starres
forsake the wished sight.
Let not the fire graunt thee his heate,
nor Ayre humiditie:
Let neither earth nor yet the Sea
free passage grant to thee.
That banyshed and poore thou mayst
straunge houses seek in vayne:
That craving too, with trembling voyce
small almes mayst obtaine.
That neither sound of body, nor
thy mynde in perfect plight:
This night be worse than passed day,
and next day than this night.
That thou mayst still be pitifull,
but pitied of none:
And that no man nor woman may
for thy mischaunces mone.