I Never See Thy Face

Make Use Of Time, Let Not Advantage Slip.

While We Lie Tumbling In The Hay.

Tis In My Memory Lock'd, And You Yourself Shall Keep The Key Of It.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

O, I Have Suffered With Those That I Saw Suffer! A Brave Vessel (who Had No Doubt Some Noble Creature In Her) Dashed All To Pieces! O, The Cry Did Knock Against My Very Heart! Poor Souls, They Perished!