 | Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished |  |
36
To Amoret WEEPING.
Leave, Amoret, melt not away so fast
Thy Eyes faire treasure, Fortunes wealthiest Cast
Deserves not one such pearle; for these well spent,
Can purchase Starres, and buy a Tenement
For us in Heaven; though here the pious streames
Availe us not; who from that Clue of Sun beams
Could ever steale one thread? or with a kinde
Perswasive Accent charme the wild, lowd winde?
Thy Eyes faire treasure, Fortunes wealthiest Cast
Deserves not one such pearle; for these well spent,
Can purchase Starres, and buy a Tenement
For us in Heaven; though here the pious streames
Availe us not; who from that Clue of Sun beams
Could ever steale one thread? or with a kinde
Perswasive Accent charme the wild, lowd winde?
37
Fate cuts us all in Marble, and the Booke
Forestalls our glasse of minutes; we may looke,
But seldome meet a change; thinke you a teare
Can blot the flinty Volume? shall our feare,
Or griefe adde to their triumphes? and must wee
Give an advantage to adversitie?
Deare, idle Prodigall! is it not just
We beare our Stars? What though I had not dust
Enough to cabinett a worme? nor stand
Enslav'd unto a little durt, or sand?
I boast a better purchase, and can shew
The glories of a soule that's simply true.
Forestalls our glasse of minutes; we may looke,
But seldome meet a change; thinke you a teare
Can blot the flinty Volume? shall our feare,
Or griefe adde to their triumphes? and must wee
Give an advantage to adversitie?
Deare, idle Prodigall! is it not just
We beare our Stars? What though I had not dust
Enough to cabinett a worme? nor stand
Enslav'd unto a little durt, or sand?
I boast a better purchase, and can shew
The glories of a soule that's simply true.
But grant some richer Planet at my birth
Had spyed me out, and measur'd so much earth
Or gold unto my share; I should have been
Slave to these lower Elements, and seen
My high borne soul flagge with their drosse, & lye
A pris'ner to base mud, and Alchymie;
I should perhaps eate Orphans, and sucke up
A dozen distrest widowes in one Cup;
Nay further, I should by that lawfull stealth,
(Damn'd Usurie) undoe the Common-wealth;
Or Patent it in Soape, and Coales, and so
Have the Smiths curse me and my Laundres too;
Geld wine, or his friend Tobacco; and so bring
The incens'd subject Rebell to his King;
And after all (as those first sinners fell)
Sinke lower then my gold; and lye in Hell.
Had spyed me out, and measur'd so much earth
38
Slave to these lower Elements, and seen
My high borne soul flagge with their drosse, & lye
A pris'ner to base mud, and Alchymie;
I should perhaps eate Orphans, and sucke up
A dozen distrest widowes in one Cup;
Nay further, I should by that lawfull stealth,
(Damn'd Usurie) undoe the Common-wealth;
Or Patent it in Soape, and Coales, and so
Have the Smiths curse me and my Laundres too;
Geld wine, or his friend Tobacco; and so bring
The incens'd subject Rebell to his King;
And after all (as those first sinners fell)
Sinke lower then my gold; and lye in Hell.
39
Thanks then for this deliv'rance! blessed pow'rs,
You that dispence mans fortune, and his houres,
How am I to you all engag'd! that thus
By such strange meanes, almost miraculous,
You should preserve me; you have gone the way
To make me rich by taking all away.
For I (had I been rich) as sure as fate,
Would have bin medling with the King, or State,
Or something to undoe me; and 'tis fit
(We know) that who hath wealth, should have no wit.
But above all, thanks to that providence,
That arm'd me with a gallant soule, and sence
'Gainst all misfortunes; that hath breath'd so much
Of Heav'n into me, that I scorne the touch
Of these low things; and can with courage dare
What ever fate, or malice can prepare:
I envy no mans purse, or mines; I know,
That loosing them, I've lost their curses too;
And, Amoret, (although our share in these
Is not contemptible, nor doth much please)
Yet whilst Content, and Love we joyntly vye,
We have a blessing which no gold can buye.
You that dispence mans fortune, and his houres,
How am I to you all engag'd! that thus
By such strange meanes, almost miraculous,
You should preserve me; you have gone the way
To make me rich by taking all away.
For I (had I been rich) as sure as fate,
Would have bin medling with the King, or State,
Or something to undoe me; and 'tis fit
(We know) that who hath wealth, should have no wit.
But above all, thanks to that providence,
That arm'd me with a gallant soule, and sence
'Gainst all misfortunes; that hath breath'd so much
Of Heav'n into me, that I scorne the touch
40
What ever fate, or malice can prepare:
I envy no mans purse, or mines; I know,
That loosing them, I've lost their curses too;
And, Amoret, (although our share in these
Is not contemptible, nor doth much please)
Yet whilst Content, and Love we joyntly vye,
We have a blessing which no gold can buye.
| Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished | |