Classic Poem

Sought by the world, and hath the world disdained,
Is she, my heart, for whom thou dost endure;
Unto whose grace sith kings have not obtained,
Sweet is thy choice, though loss of life be sour;
Yet to the man, whose youth such pains must prove,
No better end than that which comes by love.

Steer then thy course unto the port of death,
(Sith thy hard hap no better hap may find,)
Where, when thou shalt unlade thy latest breath,
Envy herself shall swim, to save thy mind;
Whose body sunk in search to gain that shore
Where many a prince had perished before.

And yet, my heart, it might have been foreseen,
Sith skilful medicines mend each kind of grief;
Then in my breast full safely hadst thou been.
But thou, my heart, wouldst never me believe,
Who told thee true when first thou didst aspire,
Death was the end of every such desire.