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Awake, sweet love, thou art return'd
My heart, which long in absence mourn'd
Lives now in perfect joy.
Let love, which never absent dies,
Now live forever in her eyes,
Whence came my first annoy.
Only herself hath seemed fair;
She only I could love.
She only drave me to despair,
When she unkind did prove.
Despair did make me wish to die;
that I my joys might end;
She only, which did make me fly,
My state may now amend.

If she esteem thee now aught worth,
She will not grieve thy love henceforth,
Which so despair hath prov'd.
Despair hath proved now in me
That love will not unconstant be,
Though long in vain I lov'd.
If she at last reward thy love
And all thy harms repair,
Thy happiness will sweeter prove,
Rais'd up from deep despair.
And if that now thou welcome be
When thou with her dost meet.
She all the while but play'd with thee
To make thy joys more sweet.

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