PRINCE ARTHVRS CASTLE, Chiefest Arts Chast Lvre
Now, Now, or Neuer, Daign my Harts Last Cvre.
Like
sad Arion on his Dolphins Backe,
Amid the Occean of my Carefull Feares,
Nigh stript of all, Now stept in hoary haires;
Sit I (poore Relique, of Your Brothers wracke.)
My Harp-strings quauer, while my Heart-strings cracke:
My Hand growes weary, and my Health it weares;
To stirre Compassion in some Powerfull eares,
At last, to land me, and supply my lacke.
You, You alone (Great Prince) with Pities grace
Haue held my Chinne aboue the Waters brinke:
Hold still, alas! hold stronger, or I sinke.
Or haile me vp into some safer place,
Som Priuie-Groom, some Room within your Doores:
That, as my Heart, my Harpe may all be Yours.
In Effect, as in Affection, To Your Highnes
seruice, Euer humbly deuoted; Iosvah Sylvesser.
