Classic Poem

I enuie Neptune oft, not that his hands
Did build that loftie Ilion's stately towers,
Nor that he, emperour of the liquid pow'rs,
Doth brooke a place amongst the immortal bands,
But that embracing her whom I loue best,
As Achilous with Alcides once,
Still wrestling with the riuall earth he grones,
For earnestness t' oreflow her happie nest:
Thus would he barre me from her presence still,
For when I come afield, he fann'd my sailes,
With mild zephires faire yet prosprous gailes,
And, like t' Vlysses, gaue me wind at will:
But when I would returne, O what deceit,
With tumbling waues thou barr'st the glassie gate!