Alas! What a wretched life is this!
Nay what a death! Where tyrant Love commandeth!
My flow’ring days are in their prime declining,
All my proud hope quite fall’n, and life untwining,
My joys each after other, in haste are flying,
And leave me dying for her that scorns my crying.
Oh she from hence departs, my love refraining,
For whom, all heartless alas! I die complaining.
More verses by John Wilbye
- All Pleasure Is Of This Condition
- And Though My Love Abounding
- Ay Me; Can Every Rumour
- Change Me, O Heav'Ns
- Dear Pity, How, Ah!
