What potions have I drunk of Syren tears,
Distilld from lymbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever!
O benefit of ill! now I find true,
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruind love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebukd to my content.
And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent.
Deutsche Version in
Falsch und wunderbar (Meiendorfer Druck Nr. 22)