University of Virginia Library



In prayse of the Booke.

Thou O too cruell guide of louers traine,
Proude in thy tyrannie on yeilded harts,
When shall thy thralls forget to mourne and plaine?
When wilt thou cease to hurle hatefull darts!
Shall all the earth ring through her spatious parts,
From out the mouth of euery fordon swayne,
That thou in steed of loue, breedst hellish paine,
Thou dire Vsurper of cælestiall arts.
Shall heauenlie Posie be prophaned still,
In woes description to thy peeuish will,
Wilt thou in steed of loue, true louers kill,
Far be it from a God to doe thus ill.
No Parry no, he doth but shew thee sorrow,
That from woes darknes, ioy more light may borrow.
W. M. Esq.