Astrophel and Stella: 97

Dian that faine would cheare her friend the Night,Shewes her oft at the full her fairest face,Bringing with her those starry Nymphs, whose chaseFrom heauenly standing hits each mortall wight.But ah poore Night in loue with Phœbus light,And endlesly dispairing of his grace,Her selfe (to shew no other joy hath place)Silent and sad in mourning weeds doth light:Euen so (alas) a Lady Dians peere,With choise delights and rarest company,Would faine driue clouds from out my heauy cheere.But wo is me, though joy it selfe were she,She could not shew my blind-braines waies of joy,While I dispaire my Sunnes-sight to enjoy.