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Sad that her sonns did seeke a forraine graue, (For fates, or fortunes Drifts none cann soothsaie) Honor and Miserie haue one face one waie. From out her pregnant entrailes sighd a winde, Which at the aires Middle Marble roome did fynde, Such stronge resistance, that it self it threw, Downeward againe, and soe when it did view, How in the porte our fleete deare tyme did leese, Witheringe like prisoners which lye but for fees, Myldely it kist our sailes, and fresh, and sweete As to a Stomake starud whose insides meete, Meate comes it came, and swole our sailes, when wee Soe ioyd as Sara her swellinge ioyd to see. But twas but soe kynde as our Countrimen Which bringe freinds one daies way and leaue them then Then like two mightie kyngs which dwellinge farr A sunder, meete against a third to warr. The South, and west=wyndes ioynd, and as they blewe Waues like a rowlinge trench before them threwe. Soonner then yow reed this lyne did the gale Like shott not feard, tell felte, our sailes assaile And what at first was cald a gust, the same Hath now a Stormes, anon a Tempests name. Ionas I pittie thee, and curse those men, Who when the storme ragd moste, did wake thee then Sleepe is paines easiest salue, and doth fullfill All offices of death, except to kyll: But when I wakd, I saw that I saw not I and the Sun which should teach mee, had forgott East, West, daye, Night, and I could but saie If the world had lasted now it had beenn daie. [CW: Thousands] |
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