ELEGIA 11
Ad amicam navigantemThe lofty Pine from high mount Pelion raught
Ill waies by rough seas wondring waves first taught,
Which rashly twixt the sharpe rocks in the deepe,
Caried the famous golden-fleeced sheepe.
O would that no Oares might in seas have suncke,
The Argos wrackt had deadly waters drunke.
Loe country Gods, and known bed to forsake,
Corinna meanes, and dangerous wayes to take.
For thee the East and West winds make me pale,
With Icy Boreas, and the Southerne gale:
Thou shalt admire no woods or Citties there,
The unjust seas all blewish do appeare.
The Ocean hath no painted stones or shelles,
The sucking shore with their aboundance swels.
Maides on the shore, with marble white feete tread,
So farre 'tis safe, but to go farther dread.
Let others tell how winds fierce battailes wage,
How Scyllaes and Caribdis waters rage.
And with what rockes the feard Cerannia threat,
In what gulfe either Syrtes have their seate.
Beleeve, no tempest the beleever wreakes.
Too late you looke back, when with anchors weighd,
The crooked Barque hath her swift sailes displayd.
The careflill ship-man now feares angry gusts,
And with the waters sees death neere him thrusts,
But if that Triton tosse the troubled floud,
In all thy face will be no crimsen bloud.
Then wilt thou Loedas noble twinne-starres pray,
And he is happy whom the earth holds, say.
It is more safe to sleepe, to read a booke,
The ThracianHarpe with cunning to have strooke,
But if my words with winged stormes hence slip,
Yet Galatea favour thou her ship.
The losse of such a wench much blame will gather,
Both to the Sea-nimphes, and the Sea-nimphes father.
Go, minding to returne with prosperous winde,
Whose blast may hether strongly be inclinde,
Let Nereus bend the waves unto this shore,
Hether the windes blowe, here the spring-tide rore.
Request milde Zephires helpe for thy availe,
And with thy hand assist the swelling saile.
I from the shore thy knowne ship first will see,
And say it brings her that preserveth me;
lIe clip and kisse thee with all contentation,
For thy returne shall fall the vowd oblation,
And in the forme of beds weele strowe soft sand,
Each little hill shall for a table stand:
There wine being fild, thou many things shalt tell,
How almost wrackt thy ship in maine seas fell.
And hasting to me, neither darkesome night,
Nor violent South-windes did thee ought aifright.
lIe thinke all true, though it be feigned matter.
Mine owne desires why should my selfe not flatter?
Let the bright day-starre cause in heaven this day be,
To bring that happy time so soone as may be.