For, th’Ocean moueth stil, from place to place;
And euery Riuer still doth ebbe and flowe:
Ne any Lake, that seems most still and slowe,
Ne Poole so small, that can his smoothnesse holde,
When any winde doth vnder heauen blowe;
With which, the clouds are also tost and roll’d;
Now like great Hills; and, streight, like sluces, them vnfold.
So likewise are all watry liuing wights xxi
Still tost, and turned, with continuall change,
Neuer abyding in their stedfast plights.