Astrophel

Of all I have seen,
of aeons gone by,
and nothing of them,
I mourn

Of Arcadia and men,
weapons and this fate,
which first dragged
the willing,
I mourn

Of stars and spheres,
and all luminous gods,
that convey their
greatness on earth
to mourn

For fortune’s sparks
that from her wheel
emerge and you who
ascend thither and
mourn not

For silence is there
and obstructed the
way to Amoenum
yet circumwheeling
to unlearn to mourn