 | Poems (1657) |  |
17
On the same [On Edward King.]
Tell me no more of Stoicks: canst thou tellWho 'twas, that when the waves began to swel,
The Ship to sinck, sad passengers to call,
[Master we perish] slept secure of all?
Remember this and him that waking kept,
A minde as constant as he did that slept.
Canst thou give credit to his zeale and love,
That went to Heaven, and to those flames above
Wrapt in a fiery Chariot? since I heard
Who 'twas that on his knees the Vessell steer'd
With hands bolt up to Heaven, since I see
As yet no singe of his mortality;
Pardon me, Reader, if I say he's gone
The self-same journey in a watry one.
| Poems (1657) | |