The Lover prayeth Venus to conduct him to the desired Haven

THOUGH this the port, and I thy servant true,

And thou thyself doth cast thy beams from high

From thy chief house, promising to renew

Both joy and eke delight, behold yet how that I,

Banished from my bliss, carefully do cry.

Help now Cytheræa! my lady dear.

My fearful trust, ‘En vogant la Galere.’

Alas! the doubt that dreadful absence giveth!

Without thine aid assurance is there none;

The firm faith that in the water fleteth,

Succour thou therefore, in thee it is alone.

Stay that with faith, that faithfully doth moan,

Thou also givest me both hope and fear,

Remember me then, ‘En vogant Galere.’

By seas, and hills elonged from thy sight,

Thy wonted grace reducing to my mind,

Instead of sleep thus I occupy the night;

A thousand thoughts, and many doubts I find,

And still I trust thou canst not be unkind,

Or else despair my comfort and my chere

Would she forthwith, ‘En vogant la Galere.’

Yet, on my faith! full little doth remain

Of any hope whereby I may myself uphold;

For since that only words do me retain,

I may well think the affection is but cold.

But since my will is nothing as I would,

And in thy hands it resteth whole and clear,

Forget me not, ‘En vogant la Galere.’