Of Love, Fortune, and the Lover’s Mind

LOVE, Fortune, and my mind which do remember

Eke that is now, and that, that once hath ben,

Torment my heart so sore, that very often

I hate and envy them beyond all measure.

Love slayeth mine heart, while Fortune is depriver

Of all my comfort; the foolish mind then

Burneth and plaineth, as one that very seldome

Liveth in rest. So still in displeasure

My pleasant days they fleet and pass;

And daily doth mine ill change to the worse:

While more than half is run now of my course.

Alas, not of steel, but of brittle glass,

I see that from my hand falleth my trust,

And all my thoughts are dashed into dust.