And all my Plants I fave from nightly ill, That fit upon the nine enfolded Sphears, And keep unfteddy Nature to her law, What ere the skill of leffer gods can show, 59 70 80 And so attend ye toward her glittering state; 2. SONG. O're the smooth enamel'd green And touch the warbled string. I will bring you where the fits Such a rural Queen All Arcadia hath not feen. 3. SONG. Nymphs and Shepherds dance no more Trip no more in twilight ranks, A better foyl shall give ye thanks. From the ftony Manalus, Bring your Flocks, and live with us, To ferve the Lady of this place. Though Syrinx your Pans Mistress were, Such a rural Queen All Arcadia hath not feen. 90 100 Miscellaneous Poems. Anno ætatis 17. On the Death of a fair Infant dying of a Cough. I. FAIREST flower no fooner blown but blafted, Soft filken Primrose fading timelefilie, Summers chief honour if thou hadft out-lafted, Bleak winters force that made thy bloffome drie; For he being amorous on that lovely die That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss But kill'd alas, and then bewayl'd his fatal bliss. 2. For fince grim Aquilo his charioter 10 Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held. 3. So mounting up in ycie-pearled carr, But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20 Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place. 4. Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate; 5. Yet can I not perfwade me thou art dead 31 Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe, Oh no? for something in thy face did shine 6. Refolve me then oh Soul moft furely bleft 40 Oh fay me true if thou wert mortal wight And why from us fo quickly thou didft take thy flight. 7. Wert thou fome Starr which from the ruin'd roofe Of shak't Olympus by mischance didst fall; Which carefull Jove in natures true behoofe Took up, and in fit place did reinstall? Or did of late earths Sonnes befiege the wall Of sheenie Heav'n, and thou fome goddess fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head. 8. Or wert thou that just Maid who once before 50 Or that crown'd Matron fage white-robed truth? any other of that heav'nly brood Or [good. Let down in clowdie throne to do the world fome 9. 60 Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoast, IO. But oh why didst thou not stay here below |