Thou seest me Lucia this year droope, Three Zodiaks fill'd more I shall stoope; Let Crutches then provided be To shore up my debilitie. Then while thou laugh'st; Ile, sighing, crie, A Ruine underpropt am I: Do'n will I then my Beadsmans gown, And when so feeble I am grwon, As my weake shoulders cannot beare The burden of a Grashopper: Yet with the bench of aged sires, When I and they keep tearmly fires; With my weake voice Ile sing, or say Some Odes I made of Lucia: Then will I heave my wither'd hand To Jove the Mighty for to stand Thy faithfull friend, and to poure downe Upon thee many a Benizon. |