William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Elizabethan Verse. 1907.
Come, Ye Heavy States of NightAnonymous
C
Do my father’s spirit right;
Soundings baleful let me borrow,
Burthening my song with sorrow.
Come, Sorrow, come! her eyes that sings
By thee are turnèd into springs.
That in dirges sad delight,
Choir my anthems: I do borrow
Gold nor pearl, but sounds of sorrow.
Come, Sorrow, come! her eyes that sings
By thee are turnèd into springs.