Thou'lt land I fear too soon, tho' ne'er so slow.
At thy return ply every sail and oar,
110And nimbly leap on thy deserted shore.
All the day long, and all the lonely night,
Black thoughts of thee my anxious soul affright:
Darkness, to other women's pleasures kind,
Augments, like Hell, the torments of my mind.
I court e'en dreams, on my forsaken bed
False joys must serve, since all my true are fled.