1Why doth the tears stand in the orient
eyes 2Of the imperial crown? Th’emergencies
3Of her sad heart just to that height doth rise.
4Though cataracts
fall, or numerous drops distill,
, 5Yet she is like the constant Caspian
still. 6Though Phœbus
courts her with his amorous rays, 7And with his burning kisses oft essays,
, 8Yet finds he it far, far above his power
9To exhale
one tear from this heroic flower, 10But she remains; O, that my soul did so,
11Ever brimful, yet never overflow.
.