My galy charged with forgetfulnes
Thorrough sharpe sees in wynter nyghtes doeth pas
Twene Rock and Rock; and eke myn ennemy, Alas,
That is my lorde, sterith with cruelnes;
And every owre a thought in redines,
As tho that deth were light in such a case.
An endles wynd doeth tere the sayll a pase
Of forced sightes and trusty ferefulnes.
A rayn of teris, a clowde of derk disdain
Hath done the wered cordes great hinderaunce,
Wrethed with errour and eke with ignoraunce.
The starres be hid that led me to this pain.
Drowned is reason that should me confort,
And I remain dispering of the port.