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XXVIII.
How can I then return in happy plight,
That am
debarr'd the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression
is not eased by night,
But day by night, and night by
day, oppress'd?
And each, though enemies to either's
reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me;
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I
toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to
please them thou art bright
And dost him grace when
clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd
night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st
the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer
And night doth nightly make grief's strength seem
stronger.
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