Followe thy faire sunne unhappy shaddowe,
Though thou be blacke as night
And she made all of light,
Yet follow thy faire sunne unhappie shaddowe.

Follow her whose light thy light depriveth,
Though here thou liv'st disgrac't,
And she in heaven is plac't,
Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth.

Follow those pure beams whose beautie burneth,
That so have scorched thee,
As thou still blacke must bee,
Til her kind beames thy black to brightnes turneth.

Follow her while yet her glorie shineth,
There comes a luckles night,
That will dim all her light,
And this the black unhappie shade devineth.

Follow still since so thy fates ordained,
The sunne must have his shade,
Till both at once doe fade,
The sun still prov'd the shadow still disdained.