William Hammond (fl. 1655)

GO, fickle man, and teach the moon to change,

The winds to vary, the coy bee to range:

You that despise the conquest of a town,

Rendered without resistance of one frown.

Is this of easy faith the recompense?

Is my prone love’s too prodigal expense

Rewarded with disdain? Did ever dart

Rebound from such a penetrable heart?

Diana, in the service of whose shrine,

Myself to single life I will confine,

Revenge thy votaress; for unto thee

The ruling ocean bends his azure knee.

And since he loves upon rough seas to ride,

Grant such an Adria, whose swelling tide,

And stormy tongue, may his false vessel wrack,

And make the cordage of his heart to crack.