Sions Elegies: Threnodia IIII, Eleg. 19

TO what a downfall are our fortunes come,
Subjected to the suffrance of a doome,
Whose lingring torments Hell could not conspire
More sharp! than which, hell needs no other fire:
How nimble are our Foemen to betray
Our soules? Eagles are not so swift as they:
Where shall we flee? Or where shall sorrow finde
A place for harbour? Ah, what prosp'rous winde
Will lend a gale, whose bounty ne're shall cease,
Till we be landed on the Ile of peace?
My foes more fierce than empty Lions are;
For hungry Lions, woo'd with teares, will spare.