When tigers flee from fire, the deer
Have nothing but that fire to fear;
So, driven by Love's flames I see
No danger save thy cruelty.

Let not thy breast, to which I fly
For pity's milk, be hard and dry:
Let not thy heart, to which I come,
Refuse my homeless life a home.

Now, wrecked and cuffed by many a sea,
I swim for safety unto thee;
Let not sharp rocks that poor wretch cut,
Who for his life clings hand and foot.