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And when the dear Sir Heinrich poor
First hit upon that fact so sore,
135 That he the world did horrify,
As all they do who likely lie,
Then did his bitter suff’ring mark
Him diff’rent from Job’s patience stark.
For Job the Good did suffer it
140 With patient resolution fit,
When he the torment underwent
For peace of soul and betterment
The gross disease and dishonour,
Which from the world he did endure:
145 Rejoice did he and praisèd God.
But sadly did poor Heinrich not
In any manner likewise act:
So sad was he, and joy he lacked.
His soaring heart now stopped and sunk,
150 His floating joy now drowned and drunk,
His arrogance now had to fall,
His honey changèd into gall.
A dark and louring thunder quake
Did in the midst of his day break,
155 A darksome shade of cloudy night
Hath blotted out his sunny light.
Quite heavily did he lament
That he so many honourments
Had to forsake and leave behind.
160 Accursèd, damnèd, and maligned
Oft was that day, beshrewed of mirth,
That day whereon did lie his birth.