Canst thou indeed be he that still would singOf our dear lady unto none but us? For though thy voice confirms that it is thus, Thy visage might another witness bring.And wherefore is thy grief so sore a thingThat grieving thou mak'st others dolorous?Hast thou too seen her weep, that thou from usCanst not conceal thine inward sorrowing?Nay, leave our woe to us: let us alone: 'Twere sin if one should strive to soothe our woe, For in her weeping we have heard her speak: Also her look's so full of her heart's moanThat they who should behold her, looking so, Must fall aswoon, feeling all life grow
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