The Bolt of Cupid Fell

When fourty nights shall beside you brow
 and dig deep wounds in your beauty now
 Your youth's proud livery so gazed on me
 tomorrow will be darkened sealed
 Look how a bird lies tangeled in a net
 Pure shame and awed resistance made him fred
 So fastened in her arms the favoured lies
 She found more beauty in his varied eyes
 Cut is the brunch that might be grown
 with you faith, the treasure of your lusty days
 Then being asked where all your beauty lies
 I say it to your deep-sunken eyes
 "As if the dead the living should exceed
 possessed by heavens heart and hand"
 He burns with basful shame
 She with her tears does quench the maiden
 burning off her cheeks
 Then with her windy sighs and golden hands
 to fain and blow them dry again she seeks
 Look how a painter would surpass his life
 His art with nature's workmanship at strife
 In limmming out a well-proportioned steed
 as if the dead the living should exceed