Follow Your Saint

1       Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;
2     Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.
3     There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrow, pity move,
4     And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love:
5     But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain,
6     Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again.

7       All that I sung still to her praise did tend,
8     Still she was first; still she my songs did end;
9     Yet she my love and music both doth fly,
10   The music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy.
11   Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight:
12   It shall suffice that they were breath'd and died for her delight.