Sonnet XI. My frail and earthly bark, by reason’s guide

Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)

MY frail and earthly bark, by reason’s guide,

Which holds the helm, whilst will doth wield the sail,

By my desires, the winds of bad betide,

Hath sailed these worldly seas with small avail,

Vain objects serve for dreadful rocks to quail

My brittle boat from haven of life that flies

To haunt the sea of mundane miseries.

My soul that draws impressions from above,

And views my course, and sees the winds aspire,

Bids reason watch to ’scape the shoals of love;

But lawless will enflamed with endless ire

Doth steer empoop, whilst reason doth retire.

The streams increase; love’s waves my bark do fill;

Thus are they wracked that guide their course by will.