SONNET XLI.
IF, aged Charon, when my life shall end, I pass thy ferry and my waftage pay, Thy oars shall fail thy boat, and mast shall rend; And through the deep shall be a dry footway. For why? My heart with sighs doth breathe such flame That air and water both incensèd be: The boundless ocean from whose mouth they came (For from my heat not heaven itself is free!). Then since to me my loss can be no gain; Avoid thy harm, and fly what I foretell! Make thou my Love with me for to be slain; That I with her, and both with thee, may dwell. Thy fact thus, Charon, both of us shall bless: Thou save thy boat, and I my Love possess.
SONNET XLII.
FOr if alone thou think to waft my Love, Her cold is such as can the sea command; And frozen ice shall let [hinder] thy boat to move. Nor can thy forces row it from the land. But if thou, friendly, both at once shall take; Thyself mayest rest! For why? My sighs will blow. Our cold and heat so sweet a thaw shall make As that thy boat, without thy help, shall row. Then will I sit and glut me on those eyes Wherewith my life, my eyes could never fill. Thus from thy boat that comfort shall arise, The want whereof my life and hope did kill. Together placed, so thou her scorn shalt cross: Where if we part, thy boat must suffer loss.