Wast thou so poor in Nymphs, that thy moist love
Must be maintain'd with pensions from above?
If none of these, but that, whilst thou didst sleep
20Upon thy sandy pillow in the deep,
This mischief stole upon us; may our grief
Waken thy just revenge on that sly thief,
Who, in thy fluid empire, without leave,
And unsuspected, durst her life bereave.
Henceforth, invert thy order, and provide
In gentlest floods a pilot for our guide.