Madrigal
William Drummond, 1616

My thoughts hold mortal strife;
          I do detest my life,
          And with lamenting cries
          Peace to my soul to bring
     Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise:
     --But he, grim grinning King,
     Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise,
     Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb,
     Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.