_With you, unhappy Eyes, that first let in_ _To my fond Heart the raging Fire,_ _With you a_ Truce _I will begin,_ _Let all your Clouds, let all your Show’rs retire,_ _And for a while become serene,_ _And you, my constant rising Sighs, forbear,_ _To mix your selves with flying Air,_ _But utter Words among that may express,_ _The vast degrees of Joy and Wretchedness._ _And you, my Soul! forget the dismal hour,_ _When dead and cold_ Aminta _lay,_ _And no kind God, no pittying Power_ _The hasty fleeting Life would stay;_ _Forget the Mad, the Raving pain._ _That seiz’d Thee at a sight so new,_ _When not the Wind let loose, nor raging Main_ _Was so destructive and so wild as thou._ _Forget thou saw’st the lovely yielding Maid,_ _Dead in thy trembling Arms_ _Just in the Ravishing hour, when all her Charms_ _A willing Victim to thy Love was laid,_ _Forget that all is fled thou didst Adore,_ _And never, never, shall return to bless Thee more._ Twelve times the _Moon_ has borrow’d Rays; that Night Might favour Lovers stealths by Glimmering Light: Since I imbarqu’d on the inconstant Seas With people of all Ages and Degrees, All well dispos’d and absolutely bent, To visit a far Country call’d _Content_. The Sails were hoisted, and the Streamers spread, And chearfully we cut the yielding Floud; Calm was the Sea, and peaceful every Wind, As if the Gods had with our Wishes joyn’d To make us prosperous; All the whispering Air Like Lovers Joys, was soft, and falsly fair. The ruffling Winds were hush’d in wanton sleep, And all the Waves were silenc’d in the deep: No threatning Cloud, no angry Curl was found, But bright, serene, and smooth, ‘twas all around: But yet believe false _Iris_ if she weep, Or Amorous _Layis_ will her promise keep, Before the Sea that Flatters with a Calm, Will cease to ruin with a rising Storm; For now the Winds are rows’d, the Hemisphere Grows black, and frights the hardy Mariner, The Billows all into Disorder hurl’d, As if they meant to bury all the World; And least the Gods on us should pity take, They seem’d against them, too, a War to make. Now each affrighted to his Cabin Flyes, And with Repentance Load the angry Skyes; Distracted Prayers they all to Heaven Address, While Heaven best knows, they think of nothing less; To quit their Interest in the World’s their fear, Not whether,--but to go,--is all their Care, And while to Heav’n their differing crimes they mount, Their vast disorders doubles the account; All pray, and promise fair, protest and weep, And make those Vows they want the pow’r to keep, And sure with some the angry Gods were pleas’d; For by degrees their Rage and Thunder ceas’d: In the rude War no more the Winds engage,