 | Lucasta |  |
Another.
[The Centaur, Syren, I foregoe]
The Centaur, Syren, I foregoe,Those have been sung, and lowdly too;
Nor of the mixed Sphynx Ile write,
Nor the renown'd Hermaphrodite:
Behold, this Huddle doth appear
Of Horses, Coach, and Charioteer;
That moveth him by traverse Law,
And doth himself both drive and draw;
Then when the Sun the South doth winne;
He baits him hot in his own Inne;
I heard a grave and austere Clark,
Resolv'd him Pilot both and Barque;
That like the fam'd Ship of Trevere,
Did on the Shore himself Lavere:
Yet the Authentick do beleeve,
Who keep their Judgement in their Sleeve,
18
And sick, still carries his Sedan:
Or that like Dames i'th Land of Luyck,
He wears his everlasting Huyck:
But banisht, I admire his fate
Since neither Ostracisme of State,
Nor a perpetual exile,
Can force this Virtue, change his Soyl;
For wheresoever he doth go,
He wanders with his Country too.
| Lucasta | |