Classic Poem

Wounded with loue, and piercing deep desire
Of your faire face, I left my natiue land,
With Russia snow to slacke mine English fire,
But well I see, no cold can quench the brand
That Cupides coles enkindle in the brest,
Frost hath no force where friendship is possest.
The Ocean sea for all his fearefull flood,
The perils great of passage not preuaile,
To banish loue the riuers do no good,
The mountains hie cause Cupid not to quaile,
Wight are his wings, and fansie flies as fast
As any ship, for all his sailes and mast.
The riuer Dwina cannot wash away
With all his waues the loue I beare to thee,
Nor Suchan swift loues raging heate delay,
Good will was graft vpon so sure a tree.
Sith trauaile then, nor frost, can coole this fire:
From Mosqua I thy frend wil home retire.