|
| So foule, and course, as, Oh, I may seeme than, |
| This shall say what I was: and thou shalt say, |
| Doe his hurts reach mee? doth my worth decay? |
| Or doe they reach his judging minde, that hee |
| Should now love lesse, what hee did love to see? |
| That which in him was faire and delicate, |
| Was but the milke, which in loves childish state |
| Did nurse it: who now is growne strong enough |
| To feed on that, which to disus'd tasts seemes tough. |
|
| Elegie VI. |
|
| Sorrow, who to this house scarce knew the way: |
| Is, Oh, heire of it, our All is his prey. |
| This strange chance claimes strange wonder, and to us |
| 'Nothing can be so strange, as to weepe thus; |
| Tis well his lifes loud speaking workes deserve, |
| And give praise too, our cold tongues could not serve: |
| 'Tis well, hee kept teares from our eyes before, |
| That to fit this deep ill, we might have store. |
| Oh, if a sweet briar, climbe up by'a tree, |
| If to a paradise that transplanted bee, |
| Or fell'd, and burnt for holy sacrifice, |
| Yet, that must wither, which by it did rise, |
| As wee for him dead: though no familie |
| Ere rigg'd a soule for heavens discoverie |
| With whom more Venturers more boldly dare
|
[CW: Venture] |