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Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee,
last. I pray thee then deny me not thy aide For this same small neglect that I have made : But haste thee strait to do me once a Pleasure, And from thy wardrope bring thy chiefest treasure; Not those new fangled toys, and triming Night Which takes our late fantasticks with delight, But cull those richest Robes, and gay'st attire Which deepest Spirits, and choicest Wits desire : I have some naked thoughts that rove about And loudly knock to have their passage out; And wearie of their place do only stay Till thou hast deck’t them in thy best aray; That so they may without suspect or fears Fly swiftly to this fair Assembly's ears ; Yet I had rather if I were to chuse, Thy service in some graver subject use, Such as may make thee search thy coffers round, Before thou cloath my fancy in fit sound: Such where the deep transported mind may soare Above the wheeling poles, and at Heav'ns dore Look in, and see each blissful Deitie How he before the thunderous throne doth lie, Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings To th’touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings Immortal Nectar to her Kingly Sire : Then passing through the Spherse of watchful fire,
And mistie Regions of wide air next under,
Then Ens is represented as Father of the Prædica
ments his ten Sons, whereof the Eldest stood for Substance with his Canons, which Ens thus Speak
ing, explains. Good luck befriend thee Son; for at thy birth The Faiery Ladies daunc't upon the hearth ; Thy drowsie Nurse hath sworn she did them spie Come tripping to the Room where thou didst lie; And sweetly singing round about thy Bed Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping Head. She heard them give thee this, that thou should'st From eyes of mortals walk invisible, [still Yet there is something that doth force my fear,
For once it was my dismal hap to hear
Thall lull him in her flowry lap;
what force, what mighty spell, if not Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot? The next Quantity and Quality, Spake in Profe,
then Relation was call’d by his Name. Rivers arise; whether thou be the Son, Of utmost Tweed, or Oofe, or gulphie Dun, Or Trent, who like some earth-born Giant spreads His thirty Armes along the indented Meads, Or sullen Mole that runneth underneath, Or Severn swift, guilty of Maidens death,
Or Rockie Avon, or of Sedgie Lee,
The rest was Profe.
On the Morning of Christ's
HIS is the Month, and this the happy
Wherein the Son of Heav'nseternal King, Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, Our great Redemption from above did bring; For so the holy Sages once did sing,
That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable,
Forsook the Courts of everlasting Day,
3 Say Heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a Present to the Infant God?
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strein,
Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
And joyn thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret Altar toucht with hallow'd fire.
It was the Winter wilde,
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
With her great Master so to sympathize :
Only with speeches fair
To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow, And on her naked shame,