Relating then how long this soil had laid forlorn,
As that her Genius now had almost her forsworn,
And of their ancient love did utterly repent,
Sith to destroy herself that fatal tool she lent,
To which th’ insatiate slave her intrails out doth draw,
That thrusts his gripple hand into her golden maw;
And for his part doth wish, that it were in his pow’r
To let the ocean in, her wholly to devour.
Which Hayle doth overhear, and much doth blame his rage;
And told him (to his teeth) he doated with his age.