That too much Confidence sometimes disappointeth Hope

MY hope, alas! hath me abused,

And vain rejoicing hath me fed:

Lust and joy have me refused,

And careful plaint is in their stead;

Too much advancing slack’d my speed,

Mirth hath caused my heaviness,

And I remain all comfortless.

Whereto did I assure my thought

Without displeasure steadfastly;

In Fortune’s forge my joy was wrought,

And is revolted readily.

I am mistaken wonderly;

For I thought nought but faithfulness;

Yet I remain all comfortless.

In gladsome cheer I did delight,

Till that delight did cause my smart,

And all was wrong when I thought right;

For right it was, that my true heart

Should not from Truth be set apart,

Since Truth did cause my hardiness;

Yet I remain all comfortless.

Sometime delight did tune my song,

And led my heart full pleasantly;

And to myself I said among—

‘My hap is coming hastily.’

But it hath happed contrary.

Assurance causeth my distress,

And I remain all comfortless.

Then if my note now do vary,

And leave his wonted pleasantness;

The heavy burthen that I carry

Hath alter’d all my joyfulness.

No pleasure hath still steadfastness,

But haste hath hurt my happiness;

And I remain all comfortless.