The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 43
For works with similar titles, see Madrigal.
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MADRIGAL
My thoughts hold mortal strife;I do detest my life,And with lamenting criesPeace to my soul to bringOft call that prince which here doth monarchize:—But he, grim grinning King,Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprize,Late having deck’d with beauty’s rose his tomb.Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.W. Drummond