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LEaue lady,
in your glasse of christall clene,
Your goodly selfe
for euermore to vew:
and in my selfe, my inward
selfe I meane,
most liuely lyke behold your semblant
trew.
Within my hart, though hardly it can shew,
thing so diuine to vew of earthly eye:
the fayre
Idea of your celestiall hew,
and euery part remaines
immortally:
And were it not that through your
cruelty,
with sorrow dimmed and deformd it were:
the goodly ymage of your visnomy,
clearer then
christall would therein appere.
But if your selfe in
me ye playne will see,
remoue the cause by which
your fayre beames darkned be.
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