Iter boreale With large additions of several other poems: being an exact collection of all hitherto extant. Never before published together. The author R. Wild |
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| V. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. | XV. |
| XVI. |
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 | Iter boreale |  |
XV.
Me-thinks I see how throngs of people stand
Scarce patient till the Vessel come to Land,
Ready to leap in, and if need require,
With Tears of Joy, to make the waters higher.
But what will London do? I doubt Old Paul
With bowing to his Soveraign will fall,
The Royal Lyons from the Tower shall roar,
And though they see him not, yet shall adore:
The Conduits will be ravish'd, and combine
To turn their very water into Wine:
And for the Citizens, I only pray
They may not over-joy'd all die that day:
May we all live more loyal and more true,
To give to Cæsar and to God their due.
Wee'l make his Fathers Tomb with tears to swim
And for the Son we'll shed our blood for him.
England her penitential Song shall sing,
And take heed how she quarrels with her King.
Scarce patient till the Vessel come to Land,
Ready to leap in, and if need require,
With Tears of Joy, to make the waters higher.
But what will London do? I doubt Old Paul
With bowing to his Soveraign will fall,
The Royal Lyons from the Tower shall roar,
And though they see him not, yet shall adore:
The Conduits will be ravish'd, and combine
To turn their very water into Wine:
And for the Citizens, I only pray
They may not over-joy'd all die that day:
May we all live more loyal and more true,
To give to Cæsar and to God their due.
Wee'l make his Fathers Tomb with tears to swim
And for the Son we'll shed our blood for him.
England her penitential Song shall sing,
And take heed how she quarrels with her King.
If for our sins—our Prince shall be misled,
Wee'l bite our nails, rather than scratch our head.
Wee'l bite our nails, rather than scratch our head.
| Iter boreale | |