And but halfe seene his vgly visnomie,
Gan to repent, that she had beene so mad,
For any death to chaunge life though most bad:
And catching hold of this Sea-beaten chest,
The lucky Pylot of her passage sad,
After long tossing in the seas distrest,
Her weary barke at last vppon mine Isle did rest.
Where I by chaunce then wandring on the shore, xii
Did her espy, and through my good endeuour
From dreadfull mouth of death, which threatned sore