The History of Polindor and Flostella With Other Poems. By I. H. [i.e. John Harington] The third Edition, Revised and much Enlarged |
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 | The History of Polindor and Flostella |  |
Rufin transported, pleas'd with this Love-mood,
Chief, gallant Choyce too, strikes a friendly Cloze;
Love Gods themselves transform'd, churl-stars be those
That thwart thy Love-designs (young Lord) he cry'd:
Then, roundly ask'd him, if he ever ey'd
That Delphick Oracle, long since displaying
His Fortune, lot: No, strait Polindor saying.
Not? (sayd Rufin) that time when Death's arrest
Seizing th' old Duke, your Fathers youthfull Brest
Greedy of Travayl (though found honour'd Room
Ith' King's regard) entrusting me at home,
Spent years in forain Climes with danger, toyl;
Till, turning back, resolv'd on Delphos soyl
(Kind neighbour Country, as his choyce rest, Repose;
Thanks given to pow'rfull Phœbus there, for Cloze:
Where spy'd your worthy'st Mother, woo'd, espous'd;
With whose Indulgent Parents first year hous'd,
You, Infant, view'd the World. When, Message come
From th' good old King, to call your Father home
For mighty'st Honour, pow'r, most urgent Hast;
Those narrow Seas, as then, with Storms o're-cast;
Your Going, next your precious Mothers, there
Much question'd, scrupleliz'd; Vowes, Offerings were
By both perform'd in Phœbus Temple, as due:
You then ith' Mothers armes. All this for true
I've heard express'd (reply'd Polind anon)
But what's that Oracle, to me's unknown.
Indeed? (sayd wondring much the joy'd Rufin)
Both's passed Lives and Loves, this Nuns design
It points most strangely forth; your Father's sure
Was lost, when Body, Soul did both endure
That tedious Anguish, grief: at Home you may
(If found) survay't, long lockd up, skreen'd from Day.
Arriving there, whilst held discourse Polin
With Nymph call'd Minde, Lass gentile and kind.
His Houskeeper (by th' Wife more neer Ally'd)
Rufin walk'd up; ere long again, discry'd
With certain Paper-relick in his hand,
Comes down, the Scroul these Mistick words contain'd.
Chief, gallant Choyce too, strikes a friendly Cloze;
Love Gods themselves transform'd, churl-stars be those
That thwart thy Love-designs (young Lord) he cry'd:
Then, roundly ask'd him, if he ever ey'd
That Delphick Oracle, long since displaying
His Fortune, lot: No, strait Polindor saying.
Not? (sayd Rufin) that time when Death's arrest
Seizing th' old Duke, your Fathers youthfull Brest
Greedy of Travayl (though found honour'd Room
Ith' King's regard) entrusting me at home,
Spent years in forain Climes with danger, toyl;
Till, turning back, resolv'd on Delphos soyl
(Kind neighbour Country, as his choyce rest, Repose;
Thanks given to pow'rfull Phœbus there, for Cloze:
53
With whose Indulgent Parents first year hous'd,
You, Infant, view'd the World. When, Message come
From th' good old King, to call your Father home
For mighty'st Honour, pow'r, most urgent Hast;
Those narrow Seas, as then, with Storms o're-cast;
Your Going, next your precious Mothers, there
Much question'd, scrupleliz'd; Vowes, Offerings were
By both perform'd in Phœbus Temple, as due:
You then ith' Mothers armes. All this for true
I've heard express'd (reply'd Polind anon)
But what's that Oracle, to me's unknown.
Indeed? (sayd wondring much the joy'd Rufin)
Both's passed Lives and Loves, this Nuns design
It points most strangely forth; your Father's sure
Was lost, when Body, Soul did both endure
That tedious Anguish, grief: at Home you may
(If found) survay't, long lockd up, skreen'd from Day.
Arriving there, whilst held discourse Polin
With Nymph call'd Minde, Lass gentile and kind.
His Houskeeper (by th' Wife more neer Ally'd)
Rufin walk'd up; ere long again, discry'd
With certain Paper-relick in his hand,
Comes down, the Scroul these Mistick words contain'd.
| The History of Polindor and Flostella | |