These bloody days have broken my heart,
My lust, my youth did them depart.
For your wit alone many men would bemoan,
And since it is so, many still cry aloud.


It is a great loss that you are dead and gone,
A time you had above your poor degree,
Before whereof your friends may well bemoan,
A rotten twig upon so high a tree has slipped your hold
And you are dead and gone.


These bloody days have broken my heart,
My lust, my youth did them depart.
And blind desire of ambitious souls,
Who haste to climb seeks to revert and about the throne
The thunder rolls.


These bloody days have broken my heart…