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(2)
Into the Silver Flood I launch'd; and fraught
My Bark with Hope, the Parasite of thought:
To Court my voyage tends;
But Hope grew sick, and wish'd me feare,
The Bark would split, that harbour'd there
To trade for Friends.
Wise Love, that sought a noble choyce,
To tune my Harp, and raise my Voyce,
Forbids my Pinnace rest;
'Till I had cur'd weake Hope agin,
By safely Anchoring within
Endimion's Brest.
Into the Silver Flood I launch'd; and fraught
My Bark with Hope, the Parasite of thought:
To Court my voyage tends;
But Hope grew sick, and wish'd me feare,
The Bark would split, that harbour'd there
To trade for Friends.
Wise Love, that sought a noble choyce,
To tune my Harp, and raise my Voyce,
Forbids my Pinnace rest;
'Till I had cur'd weake Hope agin,
By safely Anchoring within
Endimion's Brest.
(3)
Endimion! who, with Numbers sweet can move
Soules (though untun'd) to such degrees of love;
That Men shall sooner see,
Th'inticed Needle disobey
The tempting Adamant, than they
His Poesie:
Endimion! who, with Numbers sweet can move
Soules (though untun'd) to such degrees of love;
That Men shall sooner see,
Th'inticed Needle disobey
The tempting Adamant, than they
His Poesie:
And
