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The morn doth usher thee, with smiles &
blushes, The Earth reflects her glances in thy face. Birds, insects, Animals with Vegative, Thy heart from death and dulness doth
revive: And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive.
6 Thy swift Annual, and diurnal Course, Thy daily streight, and yearly oblique path, Thy pleasing fervor, and thy scorching
force, All mortals here the feeling knowledg
hath. Thy presence makes it day, thy absence
night, Quaternal Seasons caused by thy might: Hail Creature, full of sweetness, beauty & delight.
7 Art thou so full of glory, that no Eye Hath strength, thy shining Rayes once to
behold? And is thy splendid Throne erect so high? As to approach it, can no earthly mould. How full of glory then must thy Creator
be? Who gave this bright light luster unto thee;
48 Admir'd, ador'd for ever, be that Majesty.
8 Silent alone, where none or saw, or heard, In pathless paths I lead my wandring feet, My humble Eyes to lofty Skyes I rear'd To sing some Song, my mazed Muse
thought meet. My great Creator I would magnifie, That nature had, thus decked liberally: But Ah, and Ah, again, my imbecility!
9 I heard the merry grashopper then sing, The black clad Cricket, bear a second part, They kept one tune, and plaid on the same
string, Seeming to glory in their little Art. Shall Creatures abject, thus their voices
raise? And in their kind resound their makers
praise: Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher layes.
10 When present times look back to Ages
12 Here sits our Grandame in retired place, And in her lap, her bloody Cain new born, The weeping Imp oft looks her in the face,
80 Bewails his unknown hap, and fate for
lorn; His Mother sighs, to think of Paradise, And how she lost her bliss, to be more
wise, Believing him that was, and is, Father of lyes.
13 Here Cain and Abel come to sacrifice, Fruits of the Earth, and Fatlings each do
bring. On Abels gift the fire descends from
Skies, But no such sign on false Cain's offering; With sullen hateful looks he goes his
wayes. Hath thousand thoughts to end his broth
ers dayes, Upon whose blood his future good he
hopes to raise.
14 There Abel keeps his sheep, no ill he
thinks, His brother comes, then acts his fratri
cide, The Virgin Earth, of blood her first
draught drinks But since that time she often hath been
The wretch with gastly face and dreadful
mind, Thinks each he sees will serve him in his
kind, Though none on Earth but kindred near
then could he find.
15 Who fancyes not his looks now at the
Barr, His face like death, his heart with horror
fraught, Nor Male-factor ever felt like warr, When deep dispair, with wish of life hath
fought, Branded with guilt, and crusht with treble
woes, A Vagabond to Land of Nod he goes. A City builds, that wals might him secure from foes.
16 Who thinks not oft upon the Fathers ages. Their long descent, how nephews sons
they saw, The starry observations of those Sages, And how their precepts to their sons were
law, How Adam sigh'd to see his Progeny, 110 Cloath'd all in his black sin full Livery, Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could fly
17 Our Life compare we with their length
of dayes Who to the tenth of theirs doth now
arrive? And though thus short, we shorten many
wayes, Living so little while we are alive; In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight So unawares comes on perpetual night, And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight.
18 Wlien I behold the heavens as in their
prime, And then the earth (though old) stil clad
in green, The stones and trees, insensible of time, Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are
seen; If winter come, and greeness then do fade, A Spring returns, and they more youth
full made; But Man grows old, lies down, remains
where once he's laid.
Shall I then praise the heavens, the trees,
the earth Because their beauty and their strength
last longer Shall I wish there, or never to had birth, Because they're bigger, & their bodyes
stronger? Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade and
dye, And when unmade, so ever shall they lye, But man was made for endless immortality.
21 Under the cooling shadow of a stately
Elm Close sate I by a goodly Rivers side, Where gliding streams the Rocks did
overwhelm; A lonely place, with pleasures dignifi'd. I once that lov'd the shady woods so well, Now thought the rivers did the trees
excel, And if the sun would ever shine, there
would I dwell.
I markt, nor crooks, nor rubs that there
did lye Could hinder ought, but still augment its
force: O happy Flood, quoth I, that holds thy Till thou arrive at thy beloved place, Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace.
23 Nor is't enough, that thou alone may'st
slide, But hundred brooks in thy cleer waves do
To gain more good, or shun what might
thee harm Thy cloaths ne're wear, thy meat is every
where, Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water
cleer, Reminds not what is past, nor what to
come dost fear,
So hand in hand along with thee they
glide To Thetis house, where all imbrace and
greet: Thou Emblem true, of what I count the
best, O could I lead my Rivolets to rest, So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest.
24 Ye Fish which in this liquid Region 'bide, That for each season, have your habita
tion, Now salt, now fresh where you think best
to glide To unknown coasts to give a visitation, In Lakes and ponds, you leave your nu
merous fry, So nature taught, and yet you know not
why, You watry folk that know not your felicity.
25 Look how the wantons frisk to tast the
air, Then to the colder bottome streight they
dive, Eftsoon to Neptun's glassie Hall repair To see what trade they great ones there
do drive, Who forrage o're the spacious sea-green
field, And take the trembling prey before it
is their scales, their spreading fins their shield.
28 The dawning morn with songs thou dost
prevent, Sets hundred notes unto thy feathered So each one tunes his pretty instrument, And warbling out the old, begin anew, And thus they pass their youth in sum
mer season, Then follow thee into a better Region, Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion.
29 Man at the best a creature frail and vain, In knowledg ignorant, in strength but
weak, Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain, Each storm his state, his mind, his body
break, From some of these he never finds cessa
tion, But day or night, within, without, vexa
tion, Troubles from foes, from friends, from
dearest, near'st Relation.
26 While musing thus with contemplation
fed, And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain, The sweet-tongu'd Philomel percht ore my
head, And chanted forth a most melodious strain Which rapt me so with wonder and de
light, I judg'd my hearing better then my sight, And wisht me wings with her a while to
take my Aight.
30 And yet this sinfull creature, frail and
vain, This lump of wretchedness, of sin and
sorrow, This weather-beaten vessel wrackt with
pain, Joyes not in hope of an eternal morrow; Nor all his losses, crosses and vexation, In weight, in frequency and long duration Can make him deeply groan for that di
27 O merry Bird (said I) that fears no
snares, That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy
barn, Feels no sad thoughts, nor cruciating
31 The Mariner that on smooth waves doth
glide, Sings merrily, and steers his Barque with
ease, As if he had command of wind and tide, And now become great Master of the
seas; 1 Anticipate.
But suddenly a storm spoiles all the sport, And makes him long for a more quiet
port, Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for fort.
32 So he that saileth in this world of pleas
ure, Feeding on sweets, that never bit of th'
sowre, That's full of friends, of honour and of
treasure, Fond fool, he takes this earth ev'n for
heav'ns bower. But sad affliction comes & makes him see Here's neither honour, wealth, nor safety; Only above is found all with security.
I stretcht thy joynts to make thee even
feet, Yet still thou run'st more hobling then is
meet; In better dress to trim thee was my mind, But nought save home-spun Cloth, i'th'
house I find In this array, 'mongst Vulgars mayst thou In Criticks hands, beware thou dost not
come; And take thy way where yet thou art not
known, If for thy Father askt, say, thou hadst And for thy Mother, she alas is poor, Which caus'd her thus to send thee out of door.
33 O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, That draws oblivions curtains over kings, Their sumptuous monuments, men know
them not, Their names without a Record are forgot, Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all
laid in th' dust Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape times rust;
230 But he whose name is grav'd in the white
stonei Shall last and shine when all of these are
LETTERS TO HER HUSBAND 2
To my dear and loving Husband If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man Compare with me ye women if you can. I prize thy love more then whole Mines
of gold, Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give rec
ompence. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold I pray. Then while we live, in love lets so per
sever, That when we live no more, we may live
THE AUTHOR TO HER BOOK
Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble
brain, Who after birth did'st by my side remain, Till snatcht from thence by friends, less
wise then true Who thee abroad, expos'd to publick view, Made thee in raggs, halting to th' press
to trudg, Where errors were not lessened (all may
judg) At thy return my blushing was not small, My rambling, brat (in print) should
mother call, I cast thee by as one unfit for light, Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight; 10 Yet being mine own, at length affection
would Thy blemishes amend, if so I could : I wash'd thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a fiaw.
1 Rev. ii. 17.
A Letter to her Husband, absent upon
Publick employment My head, my heart, mine Eyes, my life,
nay more. My joy, my Magazine of earthly store, If two be one, as surely thou and I, How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ips
wich lye? So many steps, head from the heart to
sever If but a neck, soon should we be to
gether: I like the earth this season, mourn in
black, My Sun is gone so far in's Zodiack,
? First published in edition of 1678.
Whom whilst I 'joy'd, nor storms, nor
frosts I felt, His warmth such frigid colds did cause
to melt. My chilled limbs now nummed lye for
Or every mote that in the sun-shine hops, May count my sighs, and number all my
drops : Tell him, the countless steps that thou
dost trace, That once a day, thy Spouse thou mayst
imbrace; And when thou canst not treat by loving
mouth, Thy rayes afar, salute her from the south. But for one moneth I see no day (poor
soul) Like those far scituate under the pole, Which day by day long wait for thy arise, O how they joy when thou dost light the
skyes. Q Phæbus, hadst thou but thus long from
thine Restrain'd the beams of thy beloved
shine, At thy return, if so thou could'st or durst Behold a Chaos blacker then the first. Tell him here's worse then a confused
matter, His little world's a fathom under water, Nought but the fervor of his ardent beams Hath power to dry the torrent of these
streams. Tell him I would say more, but cannot
well, Opressed minds, abruptest tales do tell. Now post with double speed, mark what
Return, return sweet Sol from Capricorn; In this dead time, alas, what can I more Then view those fruits which through thy
heat I bore? Which sweet contentment yield me for a
space, True living Pictures of their Fathers face. O strange effect! now thou art SouthI weary grow, the tedious day so long; But when thou Northward to me shalt
return, I wish my Sun may never set, but burn 20 Within the Cancer of my glowing breast, The welcome house of him my dearest
guest. Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence, Till natures sad decree shall call thee
hence; Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone, I here, thou there, yet both but one.
A. B. Another Phæbus make haste, the day's too long,
be gone, The silent night's the fittest time for
moan; But stay this once, unto my suit give ear, And tell my griefs in either Hemisphere: (And if the whirling of thy wheels don't
drown'd) The woful accents of my doleful sound, If in thy swift Carrier thou canst make
stay, I crave this boon, this Errand by the way, Commend me to the man more lov'd then
life, Shew him the sorrows of his widdowed
wife; My dumpish thoughts, my groans, my
brakish tears My sobs, my longing hopes, my doubting
fears, And if he love, how can he there abide ? My Interest's more then all the world be
side. He that can tell the starrs or Ocean sand, Or all the grass that in the Meads do
stand, The leaves in th’ woods, the hail or drops
of rain, Or in a corn-field number every grain,
By all our loves conjure him not to stay. 40
As loving Hind that (Hartless) wants her
Deer, Scuds through the woods and Fern with
harkning ear, Perplext, in every bush & nook doth pry, Her dearest Deer, might answer ear or
eye; So doth my anxious soul, which now doth
miss, A dearer Dear (far dearer Heart) then
this. Still wait with doubts, & hopes, and fail
ing, eye, His voice to hear, or person to discry. Or as the pensive Dove doth all alone (On withered bough) most uncouthly beThe absence of her Love, and loving Mate, Whose loss hath made her so unfortunate: Ev'n doe I, with many a deep sad
groan Bewail my turtle true, who now is gone,