Thus do I live, and this I do sustain,
Till gracious Fortune make us meet again!
XXXIX.
Open the sluices of my feeble eyes,
And let my tears have passage from their fountain!
Fill all the earth, with plaints! the air, with cries!
Which may pierce rocks, and reach the highest mountain
That so, Love's wrath, by these extremes appeased;
My griefs may cease, and my poor heart be eased.