Of similar character to the versification of May, though sometimes more harsh in its structure, is the poetry of Sandys:
There’s no Alcyone! none, none! she died
Together with her Ceÿx. Silent be
All sounds of comfort. These, these eyes did see
My shipwrack’t Lord. I knew him; and my hands
Thrust forth t’ have held him: but no mortal bands
Could force his stay. A ghost! yet manifest,
My husband’s ghost: which, Oh, but ill express’d
His forme and beautie, late divinely rare!
Now pale and naked, with yet dropping haire: