ODE XXX.
[The Sprightlie Larke, vpon yond Easterne Hill]
1
The Sprightlie Larke, vpon yond Easterne Hill,
His early vowes
Has payed; and summons vp my Lazy Qvill,
Againe to rouse,
And in Cleare notes, like her owne Harmonie,
Salute the Day;
But I, Dull Sinner, Stay,
And her third Himne performed: How dull am I!
2
The golden beames of bright Apollo long
Has warmed the Earth,
And got his morning draught. I have a Tongve,
And noe such Dearth
Of ffancie, to be meerlie silent, when
All Creatures bring
Somewhat for offering;
Why should I sleepe? or not enlarge my Pen?
3
It were but soe, had still the Power of Ice
In Ebon walls,
It Pris'ner kept; I will awake, arise,
When Vertue calls.
Shame were it to prefer a Pillow, soft
With Ease and Sin;
To her resplendent Shine:
I better Feathers take, and mount aloft.
4
Emu'lous of the Larke, in her vprise,
And in her Song,
I quitt this dunghill Earth; let it suffice,
If I, among
The other Creatures, a small Tribute bring;
One verse or note,
Though from a harsher throte:
The poore wren Cherups what the Larke doth Sing.
5
In a Consort of Praise all Creatures ioyne;
The Squallid owle
Twitters a midnight note; though not soe fine,
Yet with a Soule
As gratefull as the nightingale's cleare Song;
The vniverse
Doth the great Himne reherse;
I only bear my part the rest among.
6
Then, with fresh Pineons drest, I will assay
My part to raise;
And celebrate his Name, who to this Day,
Hath many waies
Preserved me. Oh, God! I have a Qvill,
Muddled and lame,
To magnifie thy Name;
Asham'd, I lay it by, I've done soe much soe ill.
