Page 39
Upon some alterations in my Mistresse, after my depar∣ture into France.
OH gentle Love, doe not forsake the guide
Of my fraile Barke, on which the swelling tide
Of ruthlesse pride
Doth beat, and threaten wrack from every side.
Gulfes of disdaine, do gape to overwhelme
This boat, nigh sunke with griefe, whilst at the helme
Dispaire commands;
And round about, the shifting sands
Of faithlesse love, and false inconstancie,
With rocks of crueltie,
Stop up my passage to the neighbour Lands.
My sighs have rays'd those winds, whose sury beares
My sayles or'e boord, and in their place spreads teares▪
And from my teares
This sea is spr•…•…ng, where naught but Death appeares▪