What has not cankering Time made worse?Viler than grandsires, sires begetOurselves, yet baser, soon to curseThe world with offspring baser yet.

Why weep for him whom sweet Favonian airsWill waft next spring, Asteria, back to you,Rich with Bithynia's wares,A lover fond and true,Your Gyges? He, detain'd by stormy stressAt Oricum, about the Goat-star's rise,Cold, wakeful, comfortless,The long night weeping lies.