LXXX

    O！ how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might, To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame！ But since your worth——wide as the ocean is,—— The humble¹ as the proudest sail doth bear, My saucy² bark, inferior far to his, On your broad main doth wilfully³ appear. Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride； Or, being wrack'd, I am a worthless boat, He of tall building, and of goodly pride： Then if he thrive and I be cast away, The worst was this,——my love was my decay.