If My Complaints Could Passions Move - Robin Tritschler, Джон Доуленд

If my complaints could passions move

Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong:

My passions were enough to prove

That my despairs had govern’d me too long

O Love, I live and die in thee

Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks:

Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me

My heart for thy unkindness breaks:

Yet thou dost hope when I despair

And when I hope, thou mak’st me hope in vain

Thou say’st thou canst my harms repair

Yet for redress, thou let’st me still complain

Can Love be rich, and yet I want?

Is Love my judge, and yet I am condemn’d?

Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant:

Thou made a God, and yet thy power contemn’d

That I do live, it is thy power:

That I desire it is thy worth:

If Love doth make men’s lives too sour

Let me not love, nor live henceforth

Die shall my hopes, but not my faith

That you that of my fall may hearers be

May here despair, which truly saith

I was more true to Love than Love to me