SONNET XI.
Restore thy treasure to the golden ore!
Yield CYTHEREA'S son those arks of love!
Bequeath the heavens, the stars that I adore!
And to the Orient do thy pearls remove!
Yield thy hands' pride unto the ivory white!
To Arabian odour give thy breathing sweet!
Restore thy blush unto AURORA bright!
To THETIS give the honour of thy feet!
Let VENUS have the graces she resigned!
And thy sweet voice yield to HERMONIUS' spheres!
But yet restore thy fierce and cruel mind
To Hyrcan tigers and to ruthless bears!
Yield to the marble thy hard heart again!
So shalt thou cease to plague, and I to pain.
SONNET XII.
The tablet of my heavy fortunes here
Upon thine altar, Paphian Power! I place.
The grievous shipwrack of my travels dear
In bulged bark, all perished in disgrace.
That traitor LOVE! was pilot to my woe;
My sails were Hope, spread with my Sighs of Grief;
The twin lights which my hapless course did show
Hard by th'inconstant sands of false relief,
Were two bright stars which led my view apart.
A SIREN'S voice allured me come so near
To perish on the marble of her heart:
A danger which my soul did never fear.
Lo, thus he fares that trusts a calm too much;
And thus fare I whose credit hath been such.
