Yea, Time hath shown me beauty’s nothingness
     And taught me e’en your cruelty to bless,
     That cruelty which banished me the place
     Where I, at least, had gazed upon your face. 
     And when no more I saw your beauty beam
     The harsher yet your cruelty did seem;
     Yet in obedience failed I not, and this
     Hath been the means of compassing my bliss. 
     For Time, love’s parent, pitiful at last,
     Upon my woe commiserate eyes hath cast,
     And done to me so excellent a turn,
     That, if I now come back, think not I yearn
     To sigh and dally, and renew the spell—­
     I only come to bid a last farewell.

     Time, the revealer, hath not failed to prove
     How base and sorry is all human love,
     So that through Time, I now that time regret
     When all my fancy upon love was set,
     For then Time wasted was, lost in love’s chains,
     Sorrow whereof is all that now remains. 
     And Time in teaching me that love’s deceit
     Hath brought another, far more pure and sweet,
     To dwell within me, in the lonely spot
     Where tears and silence long have been my lot. 
     Time, to my heart, that higher love hath brought
     With which the lower can no more be sought;
     Time hath the latter into exile driven,
     And, to the first, myself hath wholly given,
     And consecrated to its service true
     The heart and hand I erst had given to you.

     When I was yours you nothing showed of grace,
     And I that nothing loved, for your fair face;
     Then, death for loyalty, you sought to give,
     And I, in fleeing it, have learnt to live. 
     For, by the tender love that Time hath brought
     The other vanquished is, and turned to nought;
     Once did it lure and lull me, but I swear
     It now hath wholly vanished in thin air. 
     And so your love and you I gladly leave,
     And, needing neither, will forbear to grieve;
     The other perfect, lasting love is mine,
     To it I turn, nor for the lost one pine.

     My leave I take of cruelty and pain,
     Of hatred, bitter torment, cold disdain,
     And those hot flames which fill you, and which fire
     Him, that beholds your beauty, with desire. 
     Nor can I better part from ev’ry throe,
     From ev’ry evil hap, and stress of woe,
     And the fierce passion of love’s awful hell,
     Than by this single utterance:  Farewell. 
     Learn therefore, that whate’er may be in store,
     Each other’s faces we shall see no more.”