 | H. His Deuises |  |
H. To his mishap.
The
Gallie slaue that stirres the fleeting Ore,
In foming Seas, to cut the mounting waue:
With heauie cheere doth wish the gladsome shore,
In hope that ende his thraldome then shall haue.
Or else doth hope amidst his pyning wo,
That ship will sinke, and ende his trauell so.
In foming Seas, to cut the mounting waue:
With heauie cheere doth wish the gladsome shore,
In hope that ende his thraldome then shall haue.
Or else doth hope amidst his pyning wo,
That ship will sinke, and ende his trauell so.
The sickly wight whom Feuers pinche full sore,
With gasping breath, and panting hart in bed:
And yeelds himselfe content with Natures lore,
Reuoltes againe, who was by hope misled,
If vitall breath yet chaunce to fayle him than,
Now past his paine, becomes a happy man.
With gasping breath, and panting hart in bed:
And yeelds himselfe content with Natures lore,
Reuoltes againe, who was by hope misled,
If vitall breath yet chaunce to fayle him than,
Now past his paine, becomes a happy man.
An ende of woes these seelie folke obtayne,
An ende of thrals at length by meanes they finde:
Deuoyde of cares, and I as wretch remayne,
To whom aliue the Gods aboue assignde.
That lyuing yet, a thousande times should dye.
And long time dead, vnburied yet should lye.
An ende of thrals at length by meanes they finde:
Deuoyde of cares, and I as wretch remayne,
To whom aliue the Gods aboue assignde.
That lyuing yet, a thousande times should dye.
And long time dead, vnburied yet should lye.
| H. His Deuises | |