University of Virginia Library


72

SONNET 35.

[Like to the shipman in his brittle boate]

Like to the shipman in his brittle boate,
Tossed aloft by the vnconstant winde,
By dangerous rocks, and whirling gulfes doth floate,
Hoping at length the wished Porte to finde:
So doth my loue in stormy billowes saile,
And passeth the gaping Scillaes waues,
In hope at length with Chloris to preuaile
And win that prize which most my fancie craues:
Which vnto me of value will be more,
Then was that rich and welthie golden fleece,
Which Iason stout from Colchos Iland bore
With winde in sailes vnto the shore of Greece.
More rich, more rare, more woorth hir loue I prize
Then all the wealth which vnder heauen lies.