To none but to Prometheus me compayer,
From sacred heauen he stoule that holy fier:
I from thine eyes stoule fier, my iudgements are
For to be bound with cheanes of strong desier
To that hard rocke of thy thrise cruell hart:
The ceaselesse waues, which on the rockes do dash
Yet neuer pearce, but forced backward start
Those be these endlesse teares, my cheekes which wash:
The vulture which is by my goddesse doome
Assign'd to feede vpon mine endlesse lyuer,
Dispaire by the procur'd, which leaues no roome.