1O, that the tears that trickle from mine eyes

2Were placed as blazing comets in the skies:

3Then would their numerous and

illustrous2

rays

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

pole3

,

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:

11Then would

Hadassah’s4

more resplendent fame

12Outlive the famous

Artimitius’s5

name.

13The iris trickles tears from her sad eyes

14And, from their salt,

her offspring doth arise6

;

15But my

abortive7

tears descend in vain,

16For I can never see those joys again.

17

Hart’s briny tears, a bezoar doth condense8

;

18O, let mine eyes whole flood of tears dispense,

19That I a

cordial9

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.