SAD, all alone, not long I musing sat
But that my thoughts compelled me to aspire.
A laurel garland in my hand I gat,
So the Muses I approached the nigher.
My suit was this, A Poet to become;
To drink with them, and from the heavens be fed.
PHŒBUS denied; and sware, "There was no room
Such to be Poets as fond Fancy led."
With that I mourned, and sat me down to weep.
VENUS she smiled, and smiling to me said,
"Come drink with me, and sit thee still and sleep!"
This voice I heard, and VENUS I obeyed.
That poison, Sweet, hath done me all this wrong;
For now of Love must needs be all my Song.