The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
38
The Spring.
Now the Springe enters; now the Sun doth CheareThe quick'ned Earth; and trees by Cold made bare
Now gin to bud; the Earth doth now begin
To flourish, in her Sweet and glorious Trimme;
The Silver Streams bound vp by winter's Cold
Glide fairly, where they murmurèd of old;
The goodly meadowes, russet late, and Dead,
In a fresh Dresse, are now apparelled;
The mountaine tops are bared, and where the Snow
Late covered, the Spring begins to Shew.
Thither, the Lads, dull'd with the winter's rest,
To ioy in wonted Sports, doe gladly hast;
Now Ioyes the Industrious Bee, and the Ant now
(Embleme of Providence) her selfe doth Show,
Warme in her winter's Store; doth now againe
Labour, and make provision, to sustaine
Her little bodie, for the after-day;
Now flyes the maggot, in her paintings gay,
(Signe of faire weather) and doth now invite
Decrepit years, to tas't the Spring's delight.
I will not call the Cuckooe, with the Spring,
(Vnnatural foolish Bird) let her voyce ringe
T' affright the Citie, and an Omen carrie
Of ffate, to fooles, and old men, when they marrie;
But here the Redbrest and gray Linnets Singe,
39
To gaine yond' highest Sprig, and there doth pay
A Ceremonious Himne, to welcome day;
Whilst from that Grove, the haples Philomel
Sweetly, though Sadly, doth her Storie tell;
The little Dazies, shake their Deawie Locks,
The ambitious woodbine climbs againe, and mocks
The tardie Gilliflower; the lillye in
Her liveing Robe of Innocence, doth Shine;
ffor those of Cost and Art, to me are poor:
Nature is Rich, and Curious in her Store;
And this same Marigold, or violet here,
To the transplanted Tulip, I preferre;
Loe, where the Larke, borne on her active wing,
Pouers forth her Song of Ioy, vnto the Spring;
Lambs ioyous friske, and play now each with other,
Neglect the Teate, and leave the Ewe, their mother;
Inspirèd with the Time, may my Muse frame
Notes with the Larke, be Sportive with the Lambe.
| The poems of George Daniel | |