My hart is like a ship on
Neptunes
backe,
Thy beautie is the sea where my ship sayleth,
Thy frownes the surges are that threat my wracke
Thy smiles the windes that on my sailes soft gaileth
Long tost betwixt faire hope and foule despaire,
My seasick hart, arriued on thy shore:
Thy loue I meane, begges that he may repaire
His broken vessell with thy bounteous store.
Dido relieu'd
AEneas
in distresse,
And lent him loue, and gaue to him her heart,
If halfe such bountie thou to me expresse,
From thy faire shore I neuer will depart:
But thanke kinde fortune that my course did sorte,
To suffer shipwrack on so sweete a porte.