 | Parthenophil and Parthenophe |  |
59
SONNET XCI.
[These bitter gustes which vexe my troubled seas]
These bitter gustes which vexe my troubled seas,And moue with force, my sorrowes floudes to flowe:
My fancies shippe tost here, and there by these
Still floates in daunger, raunging too and froe:
How feares my thoughtes swift pynnace thine hard rocke,
Thine harts hard rocke, least thou mine hart (his pylate
Together with him selfe) should rashely knocke,
And being quite dead-stricken, then should cry late,
Ah me! to late to thy remorselesse selfe,
Now when thy mercies all been banished
And blowne vpon thine hard rockes ruthlesse shelfe,
My soule in sighes is spent and vanished,
Be pittyfull alas, and take remorse,
Thy bewtie too much practiseth his force.
| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | |