My galley charged
Thorough sharp seas, in winter night
s doth pass
'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy
That is my lord
, steereth with cruelness
And every oar a thought in readiness
As though that death were light in such a case
An endless wind doth tear the sail apace
Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness.
A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain
Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance;
Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance.
The stars be hid
that led me to this pain.
Drowned is reason that should me consort,
And I remain despairing of the port
-Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder
circa 1555 C.E., in the public domain