Classic Poem

You restlesse seas, appease your roaring waues,
And you who raise hudge mountaines in that plaine,
Aire's trumpeters, your blustring stormes restraine,
And listen to the plaints my griefe doth cause.
Eternall lights, though adamantine lawes
Of destinies to mooue still you ordaine,
Turne hitherward your eyes, your axetree pause,
And wonder at the torments I sustaine.
Earth, if thou bee not dull'd by my disgrace,
And senselesse made, now aske those powers aboue,
Why they so crost a wretch brought on thy face,
Fram'd for mishap, th' anachorite of loue?
And bid them, if they would moe Ætnas burne,
In Rhodopee or Erimanthe mee turne.