Sonnet XVII. Ah, fleeting weal! ah, sly deluding sleep

Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)

AH, fleeting weal! ah, sly deluding sleep,

That in one moment giv’st me joy and pain!

How do my hopes dissolve to tears in vain,

As wont the snows, ’fore angry sun to weep!

Ah, noisome life that hath no weal in keep!

My forward grief hath form and working might;

My pleasures, like the shadows, take their flight;

My path to bliss is tedious, long, and steep.

Twice happy thou Endymion that embracest

The live-long night thy love within thy arms,

Where thou fond dream my longèd weal defacest

Whilst fleeting and uncertain shades thou placest

Before my eyes with false deluding charms!

Ah, instant sweets which do my heart revive,

How should I joy if you were true alive!