277 Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love
WHAT needs complaints,
When she a place
Has with the race
Of saints?
In endless mirth
She thinks not on
What’s said or done
In Earth.
She sees no tears,
Or any tone
Of thy deep groan
She hears:
Nor does she mind
Or think on’t now
That ever thou
Wast kind;
But changed above,
She likes not there,
As she did here,
Thy love.
Forbear therefore,
And lull asleep
Thy woes, and weep
No more.
278 To Meadows
YE have been fresh and green,
Ye have been fill’d with flowers,
And ye the walks have been
Where maids have spent their hours.
You have beheld how they
With wicker arks did come
To kiss and bear away
The richer cowslips home.
You’ve heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round:
Each virgin like a spring,
With honeysuckles crown’d.
But now we see none here
Whose silv’ry feet did tread
And with dishevell’d hair
Adorn’d this smoother mead.
Like unthrifts, having spent
Your stock and needy grown,
You’re left here to lament
Your poor estates, alone.
279 A Child’s Grace
HERE a little child I stand
Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as paddocks1 though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a benison to fall
On our meat and on us all. Amen.
280 Epitaph
upon a Child that died
HERE she lies, a pretty bud,
Lately made of flesh and blood:
Who as soon fell fast asleep
As her little eyes did peep.
Give her strewings, but not stir
The earth that lightly covers her.
281 Another
HERE a pretty baby lies
Sung asleep with lullabies:
Pray be silent and not stir
Th’ easy earth that covers her.
282 His Winding-sheet
COME thou, who art the wine and wit
Of all I’ve writ:
The grace, the glory, and the best
Piece of the rest.
Thou art of what I did intend
The all and end;
And what was made, was made to meet
Thee, thee, my sheet.
Come then and be to my chaste side
Both bed and bride:
We two, as reliques left, will have
One rest, one grave:
And hugging close, we will not fear
Lust entering here:
Where all desires are dead and cold
As is the mould;
And all affections are forgot,
Or trouble not.
Here, here, the slaves and prisoners be
From shackles free:
And weeping widows long oppress’d
Do here find rest.
The wrongàd client ends his laws
Here, and his cause.
Here those long suits of Chancery lie
Quiet, or die:
And all Star-Chamber