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Another vpon the same M:rs Boulstred. [169] |
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Language thou art too narrow and too weake |
To ease vs now, greate sorrowes cannot speake. |
If wee could sigh out accents, and weepe words |
Greefe weares and lessens that teares breath affoords. |
Sad hearts the lesse they seeme the more they are |
So guilty'st men stand mutest at the barre |
Not that they knowe not feele not theyr estate |
But extreame Sence hath made them desperate. |
Sorrow, to whome wee owe all that wee bee |
Tyrant in the fift and great'st Monarchy |
Was't that shee did possesse all hearts before |
Thou hast killd her, to make thy Empire more? |
Knewst thou some would, that knewe her not, lament |
As in a deluge perish th'innocent? |
Wast not enough to haue that pallace wonne |
But thou must rase it too that was vndonne? |
Hadst thou stayd there and lookd out at her eyes |
All had ador'd thee that now from thee flyes |
ffor they lett out more light then they tooke in |
They told not when, but did the day beginne |
Shee was too Saphyrine and cleere for thee |
Clay, flint, and Ieate now thy fitt dwellings bee. |
Alas shee was too pure, but not too weake |
Who er'e sawe Christall Ord'nance but would breake? |
And if wee bee thy conquest, by her fall |
Th'hast lost thy end, in her wee perish all. |
Or if wee liue, wee liue but to rebell |
That knowe her better now who knew her well. |
If wee should vapour out or pine, or dye |
Since shee first went, that were no misery |
Shee changd our world with hers, now shee is gon |
Mirth and prosperity is oppression.
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[CW: ffor] |