The works of Sr William Davenant ... Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed, and Those which he design'd for the Press: Now published Out of the Authors Originall Copies |
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The works of Sr William Davenant | ||
Divine Poesie.
Comes Indamora from above,
To guide those Lovers that want sight,
To see and know what they should love.
And search what ev'ry Heart doth mean,
The sadly wounded she will heal,
And make the fouly tainted clean.
That first gave words an harmony,
And made false Love in numbers flow,
Till vice became a mystery.
To which death turn'd you long agoe,
Help with your voyces to declare
What Indamora comes to show.
The Poets.
Soul of our Science! how inspir'd we come?
By thee restor'd to voyces that lay dumbe,
And lost in many a forgotten Tombe.
D. Poesie.
Y'are spirits all; and have so long
From flesh, and frailty absent bin,
That sure though Love should fill your song,
It could not relish now of sin.
The Poets.
Vex not our sad remembrance with our shame!
We have bin punish'd for ill-gotten fame,
For each loose verse, tormented with a flame.
D. Poesie.
Descend then, and become with me,
The happy Organs to make known
In an harmonious Embassie,
Our great affair to yonder Throne.
She being descended to the ground in a Majestick pace, goes up the State, attended by the fore-named Poets; and the Cloud that brought her down, closeth as it ascends.
D. Poesie.
Thou Monarch of mens hearts rejoyce!
So much thou art belov'd in heaven,
That Fate hath made thy reign her choyce,
In which Love's blessings shall be given.
The Poets.
Truth shall appear, and rule 'till she resists
Those subtle charmes, and melts those darker mists,
In which Lov's Temple's hid from Exorcists.
D. Poesie.
Those Magi that with pleasant Arts
To their false Temple led of yore
The noblest youth, with'ring their Hearts
With lustful thoughts, shall be no more.
The Poets.
For Indamora with her beauties light,
The truer Temple shall restore to sight,
The false shall be obscur'd in endless Night.
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As chearful as the Mornings light,Comes Indamora from above,
To guide those Lovers that want sight,
To see and know what they should love.
2
Her beames into each breast will steal,And search what ev'ry Heart doth mean,
The sadly wounded she will heal,
And make the fouly tainted clean.
3
Rise you, from your dark shades below,That first gave words an harmony,
And made false Love in numbers flow,
Till vice became a mystery.
4
And when I've purifi'd that AyrTo which death turn'd you long agoe,
Help with your voyces to declare
What Indamora comes to show.
The Poets.
Soul of our Science! how inspir'd we come?
By thee restor'd to voyces that lay dumbe,
And lost in many a forgotten Tombe.
385
Y'are spirits all; and have so long
From flesh, and frailty absent bin,
That sure though Love should fill your song,
It could not relish now of sin.
The Poets.
Vex not our sad remembrance with our shame!
We have bin punish'd for ill-gotten fame,
For each loose verse, tormented with a flame.
D. Poesie.
Descend then, and become with me,
The happy Organs to make known
In an harmonious Embassie,
Our great affair to yonder Throne.
She being descended to the ground in a Majestick pace, goes up the State, attended by the fore-named Poets; and the Cloud that brought her down, closeth as it ascends.
D. Poesie.
Thou Monarch of mens hearts rejoyce!
So much thou art belov'd in heaven,
That Fate hath made thy reign her choyce,
In which Love's blessings shall be given.
The Poets.
Truth shall appear, and rule 'till she resists
Those subtle charmes, and melts those darker mists,
In which Lov's Temple's hid from Exorcists.
D. Poesie.
Those Magi that with pleasant Arts
To their false Temple led of yore
The noblest youth, with'ring their Hearts
With lustful thoughts, shall be no more.
The Poets.
For Indamora with her beauties light,
The truer Temple shall restore to sight,
The false shall be obscur'd in endless Night.
The works of Sr William Davenant | ||