My Thoughts Hold Mortal Strife; I Do Detest My Life, And With Lamenting Cries Peace To My Soul To Bring Oft Call That Prince Which Here Doth Monarchize: But He, Grim Grinning King, Who Caitiffs Scorns, And Doth The Blest Surprise, Late Having Decked With Beauty'S Rose His Tomb, Disdains To Crop A Weed, And Will Not Come.