|
To Mr R: W.| |
Muse not that by thy Mind thy body is led: [f. 29v] |
for by thy Mind, my Mind's distempered. |
So thy Care Lives Long, for I bearing part |
It eates not only thyne, but my swolne hart. |
And when it giues vs intermission |
We take new harts for it to feede vpon. |
But as a Lay Mans Genius doth controule |
body & mind; the Muse beeing the Soules Soule |
Of Poets, yt methinks should ease or anguish, |
Allthough or bodyes wither & minds Languish. |
Wright then, that my griefes wch thyne got may bee |
Cur'd by thy charming soveraigne melodee. |
|
To Mr C. B.| |
Thy frind whom thy deserts to thee enchaine |
Vrg'd by this inexcusable occasion |
Thee & the Saint of his affection |
Leaving behind, doth of both wants complaine. |
And let the Love I beare to both sustaine |
No blott nor maime by diuision |
Strong is this Love wch tyes or harts in one |
And strong yt Love pursued wt amorous payne. |
And though besides thy selfe I leaue behind |
Heauens liberall & Earths thrice fairer Sonne |
Going to wher sterne winter ay doth wonne |
Yet Loves hott fyres wch martir my sad mind |
Do send forth scalding sighes, wch haue the art |
To melt all Ice but yt wch walls her hart. |