1O, that the tears that trickle from mine eyes
2Were placed as blazing comets in the skies:
3Then would their numerous and
4Turn my sad nights into the brightest days.
5O, that the sighs that breathe from my sad soul
6Might fly above the highest star or
7Unto that God that views my dismal story,
8Even He that crowns my dying hopes with glory.
9O, that my tears that fall down to the earth
10Might give some noble, unknown flower birth:
Hadassah’s more resplendent fame
12Outlive the famous
13The iris trickles tears from her sad eyes
14And, from their salt,
her offspring doth arise;
abortive tears descend in vain,
16For I can never see those joys again.
Hart’s briny tears, a bezoar doth condense;
18O, let mine eyes whole flood of tears dispense,
19That I a
cordial to my friends may give;
20Then, though I die, yet I may make them live.
21I gladly would this good to them impart,
22Though in the doing it, it breaks my heart;
23Then let my dying tears a cordial prove,
24Seeing I my friends above my life do love.