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That fair Syrian fhepherdess,
Who after years of barrenness,
The highly favor'd Joseph bore,
To him that ferv'd for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the bofom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light:

There with thee, new welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her foul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant fheen,
No Marchionefs, but now a Queen.

SONG.

IX.

On MAY MORNING.

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70

NOW the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

5

Comes dancing from the eaft, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowflip, and the pale primrose. Hail bounteous May that doft inspire Mirth and youth and warm defire; Woods and groves are of thy dreffing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we falute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wifh thee long.

ΤΟ

On

X.

On SHAKESPEAR. 1630.

WHA

HAT needs my Shakespear for his honor'd
The labor of an age in piled stones, (bones

Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?

Dear fon of memory, great heir of fame,

5

What need'ft thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Haft built thyself a live-long monument.

For whilst to th' fhame of flow-endevoring art
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impreffion took,
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
Doft make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so fepulcher'd in such pomp doth lie,
That kings for fuch a tomb would wish to die.

XI.

ΙΟ

15

On the University Carrier, who ficken'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reafon of the plague.

ERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,

HER

And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt, Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one, He's here stuck in a flough, and overthrown.

'Twas

'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known, 5 Death was half glad when he had got him down; For he had any time this ten years full,

Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And surely Death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd; IO
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlin

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Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:

If any ask for him, it shall be said,

Hobson has supt and's newly gone to bed.

H

XII.

Another on the fame.

ERE lieth one, who did most truly prove

That he could never die while he could move;

So hung his destiny, never to rot

While he might still jogg on and keep his trot,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainft old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And like an engin mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended strait.

Bb

5

ΙΟ

Reft

Reft that gives all men life, gave him his death, And too much breathing put him out of breath; Nor were it contradiction to affirm

15

Too long vacation haften'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he ficken'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his fwooning bed out-stretch'd,
If I mayn't carry, fure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow, though the crofs doctors all flood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make six bearers. 20
Eafe was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdenfome,

That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't) 25
As he were prest to death, he cry'd more weight;
But had his doings lafted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the feas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase :
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,

Only remains this fuperfcription.

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L'A L

H'

XIII.

L'ALLEGRO.

ENCE loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn

(unholy, 'Mongft horrid fhapes, and fhrieks, and fights Find out fome uncouth cell,

5

Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous And the night-raven sings;

(wings,

There under ebon fhades, and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.

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But come thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrosyne,
And by men, heart-eafing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two fifter Graces more
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as fome fager fing)

The frolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying,

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There on beds of violets blue,

And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonair.

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