Book I, Metre VII (I. T.): The Perturbations of Passion

When stars are shrouded
With dusky night,
They yield no light
Being so clouded.
When the wind moveth
And churneth the sea,
The flood, clear as day,
Foul and dark proveth.
And rivers creeping
Down a high hill
Stand often still,
Rocks them back keeping.
If thou wouldst brightly
See Truth's clear rays,
Or walk those ways
Which lead most rightly,
All joy forsaking
Fear must thou fly,
And hopes defy,
No sorrow taking.
For where these terrors
Reign in the mind,
They it do bind
In cloudy errors.