Ten thousand times from side to side I turn,
And, restless, roll as on a hedge of thorn;
All thir cold nights I gaunt, I glow and burn,
I wish for day, yet languish while the morn;
And thinking all that time I hear a horn,
Announcing that Aurora does appear
To glad my heart, by languor all forlorn,
And closed darkness of my eyes to clear;
I make this verse, but light and learn perquire,
Not knowing yet the sequel of the same;
Disturbed with yowling hounds that hourly beir,
And cackling crows, that seems my pain proclaim;
And cry of thee, whose beauty works my smart,
Ruth in thy eyes, and rigour in thy heart.