IF, aged CHARON, when my life shall end,
I pass thy ferry and my waftage pay,
Thy oars shall fail thy boat, and mast shall rend;
And through the deep shall be a dry footway.
For why? My heart with sighs doth breathe such flame
That air and water both incensèd be:
The boundless ocean from whose mouth they came
(For from my heat not heaven itself is free!).
Then since to me my loss can be no gain;
Avoid thy harm, and fly what I foretell!
Make thou my Love with me for to be slain;
That I with her, and both with thee, may dwell.
Thy fact thus, CHARON, both of us shall bless:
Thou save thy boat, and I my Love possess.