An Excellent Sonnet of the Unfortunate Loves of Hero and Leander.  
To the Tune of, Gerhard's Mistress, etc.  
 depiction of Hero  
 depiction of Leander  Hero. 

HOw fares  
My dear Leander? O vouchsafe to speak,  
lest my heart break:  
I banished am from thy sweet company;  
'Tis not  
Thy Father's Anger can ab●se my Love,  
I still will prove  
Thy faithful Friend until such time I die:  
Though Fate  
And Fortune do conspire,—  
to interrupt our Love,  
In spite of Fate and Fortune's Hate,  
I still will constant prove:  
And though  
Our angry Friends, in malice,  
now our Body's part,  
Nor Friends nor Foes, nor Scars nor Blows,  
shal● separate our Hearts.   Leander. 

What Voice  
Is this, th●t calls Leander from her Bower,  
from yonder Tower?  
The Echo of this Voice doth sure proceed—   Hero. 

Leander,  
'tis thy Hero ●●in would come to thee,  
if it might be;  
Thy absence m●●es my t●nder Heart to bleed:  
But oh!  
This pleasant River Hellifponet,  
which is the People's Wonder,  
Those Waves so high do Injury,  
by parting us asunder:  
And though  
There's Ferry-men good store,  
yet none will stand my Friend,  
To waft we o'er to that fair Shore,  
Where all my Grief shall end.   Leander. 

Hero,  
Though I am thy constant Lover still,  
and ever will,  
My angry Father is thy Enemy;  
He still  
Doth strive to keep's asunder, now and then,  
poor Ferry-men,  
They dare not waft thee over least they die:  
Nor yet  
Dare they convey me  
unto my dear Hero: now  
My Father's Rage will not assuage,  
nor will the same allow:  
Be patient  
Then, dear Hero, now,  
as I am ●rue to thee,  
Even so I trust thou ●rt as 〈◊〉,  
and faithful unto me.   Hero. 

Is there  
No way to stay an angry Father's Wrath,  
whose Fury hath  
Bereaved his Child of Comfort and Content?   Leander. 

O no,  
Dear Hero! there's no way that I do know,  
to ease my Woe;  
My Days of joy and Comfort now are spent,  
You may  
As well go tame  
a Lion in the Wilderness,  
As to persuade my Father's Aid,  
to help me in Distress:  
His Anger  
And his River hath  
kept us asunder long;  
He hath his Will, his Humour still,  
and we have all the Wrong.   Hero. 

'Tis not  
Thy Father's Anger, nor his River deep,  
the which shall keep  
Me from the Embracements of my dearest Friend,  
For through  
This silver Stream, my way I mean to take,  
even for thy sake,  
For thy dear sake, my dearest Life I'll spend:  
Though Waves  
And Winds should both conspire  
mine Enemies to be,  
My Love's so strong, I fear no wrong  
can happen unto me:  
O meet  
Me in thy Garden,  
where this pleasant River glides,  
Lend me thy Hand, draw me to Land,  
whatever me betides.  
Now must  
I make my tender slender Arms my Oars,  
help Watery Powers!  
Ye little Fishes teach me how to swim;  
And ●ll  
Ye Sea-nymps guard me unto yonder Banks,  
I'll give you Thanks,  
Bear up my Body, strengthen every Limb:  
I come,  
Leander, now prepare  
thy lovely Arms for me;  
I come, dear Love, assist me Jove,  
I may so happy be.  
But, oh!  
A mighty Tempest rose,  
and he was drowned that Tide,  
In her fair sight, her Heart's Delight  
and so with Grief she died.   

But when  
Her aged Father these things understands,  
he wrings his Hands,  
And tears his hoary Hair from of his Head,  
Society  
He shuns, and doth forsake his Meat,  
his Grief's so great;  
And oft doth make the lowly ground his Bed;  
O! my  
Leander, would that I  
had died to save thy Life;  
Or that I had, when I was sad,  
made thee brave Hero's Wife:  
It was  
My Trespass, and I do  
confess I wronged thee,  
Posterity shall know thereby  
the Fault lay all in me.  
But since  
The Waves have cast his Body on the Land,  
upon the Sand,  
His Corpse shall buried be in solemn wise,  
One Grave  
Shall serve them both, and one most stately Tomb,  
she'll make him room,  
Although her Corpse be breathless where she lies.  
Ye Fathers  
Have a special Care now,  
whatsoever you do,  
For those that part true loyal Hearts,  
themselves were never true.  
Though Fate  
And Fortune cross poor Lovers,  
sometimes as we do know,  
Pray understand, have you no hand  
even in their Overthrow.    

London: Princed by and for W. O. and sold by the Booksellers.