Esther M. Zimmer Lederberg
Richard Linche: 1548-1601, Sonnet XVII
THE SUN-SCORCHED seaman, when he sees the seas,
all in a fury, hoist him to the sky;
And throw him down again, as waves do please,
(so chasèd clouds, from ÆOL’s mastiffs fly!)
In such distress, provideth with great speed
all means to save him from the tempest’s rage:
He shews his wit, in such like time of need,
the big swoll’n billows’ fury to assuage.
But foolish I, althouth I see my death,
and feel her proud disdain too feelingly
(Which me of all felicity bereaveth):
yet seek no means t’ escape this misery.
So am I charmed with heart-enchanting beauty,
That still to wail, I think it is my duty.
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