Xliii

Thou glorious sun, from whence my lesser light The substance of his crystal shine doth borrow, Let these my moans find favour in thy sight. And with remorse extinguish now my sorrow! Renew those lamps which thy disdain hath quenched, As Phoebus doth his sister Phoebe's shine; Consider how thy Corin being drenched In seas of woe, to thee his plaints incline, And at thy feet with tears doth sue for grace, Which art the goddess of his chaste desire; Let not thy frowns these labours poor deface Although aloft they at the first aspire; And time shall come as yet unknown to men When I more large thy praises forth shall pen!