And as the louring weather looks down,
So seemest thou like Good Friday[3] to frown:
But my flow'ring youth is foe to frost,
My ship unwont in storms to be tost.
THE. The sovereign of seas he blames in vain,
That, once sea-beat, will to sea again:
So loit'ring live you little herdgrooms,
Keeping your beasts in the budded brooms;
And, when the shining sun laugheth once,
You deemen, the spring is come at once;