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The FROST.
1654.
To Mr. W. L.
The
streams are fetter'd, and with us as rare,
As Fountains in Arabian Desarts are.
No tears in Woman's Eyes; their skill is crost,
And that most ready Fountain now is lost.
Our Nose-drops freez to Pearls, and Jewels there,
Like salvage Indians, we are forc'd to wear.
Bracelets may now be cheap; our Lasses try—
They can spit forth as good as they can buy.
Glass-Fornaces are needless; he's an Ass
That will buy any, when he pisses Glass,
Surgeons, with all their Lancets, do no good;
Our Veins are stufft with Coral, not with Blood.
To be i'th' Rain the Service now's as hot,
As 'twixt two Armies joyn'd; each drop's a shot.
Each Hail a Bullet, shot with ratling noise;
And Snow (white-Powder) silently destroys,
If now our sheep lye down upon the Grass,
You'd swear how each a Boronetho was,
And there took rooting: for thus fixt they show
Like snowy Hillocks, or like breathing Snow.
Fish freeze i'th' Deeps, and think't a happy lot
Now to be caught and put into a Pot.
And Hares ev'n frozen in their Forms do lye,
As they had put themselves into a Pye.
As Fountains in Arabian Desarts are.
No tears in Woman's Eyes; their skill is crost,
And that most ready Fountain now is lost.
Our Nose-drops freez to Pearls, and Jewels there,
Like salvage Indians, we are forc'd to wear.
Bracelets may now be cheap; our Lasses try—
They can spit forth as good as they can buy.
Glass-Fornaces are needless; he's an Ass
That will buy any, when he pisses Glass,
Surgeons, with all their Lancets, do no good;
Our Veins are stufft with Coral, not with Blood.
17
As 'twixt two Armies joyn'd; each drop's a shot.
Each Hail a Bullet, shot with ratling noise;
And Snow (white-Powder) silently destroys,
If now our sheep lye down upon the Grass,
You'd swear how each a Boronetho was,
And there took rooting: for thus fixt they show
Like snowy Hillocks, or like breathing Snow.
Fish freeze i'th' Deeps, and think't a happy lot
Now to be caught and put into a Pot.
And Hares ev'n frozen in their Forms do lye,
As they had put themselves into a Pye.
Nature's inslav'd; her very Breath confin'd,
Her Lungs are stopt, and cannot gather Wind.
Sometimes she's raging mad, and fiercely blows,
Foaming and Froathing all the Earth with Snows.
Those downy show'rs appear (which Boreas brings)
As though the moulting Clouds had mew'd their wings;
What else is Snow but feather'd drizzel, blown
Fro' th' Sky, where their swift Pinnions late had flown;
No other flights than these now haunt the Air,
Till lym'd with frost, they're forc'd to tarry here.
Her Lungs are stopt, and cannot gather Wind.
Sometimes she's raging mad, and fiercely blows,
Foaming and Froathing all the Earth with Snows.
Those downy show'rs appear (which Boreas brings)
As though the moulting Clouds had mew'd their wings;
What else is Snow but feather'd drizzel, blown
Fro' th' Sky, where their swift Pinnions late had flown;
No other flights than these now haunt the Air,
Till lym'd with frost, they're forc'd to tarry here.
The Air's so thick it does like th' Dead-Sea flow
Where Birds, with feather'd Oars, can scarcely row.
And hollow Clouds, ramm'd full as they can bear,
Discharge Hail-shot in Volleys through the Air.
Those Dew-drops that upon the Earth are found,
Right Pearls they are, and pave the glitt'ring ground.
Wherever any grassy Turf is view'd,
It seems a Tansie all with Sugar strew'd.
Where Birds, with feather'd Oars, can scarcely row.
And hollow Clouds, ramm'd full as they can bear,
Discharge Hail-shot in Volleys through the Air.
Those Dew-drops that upon the Earth are found,
Right Pearls they are, and pave the glitt'ring ground.
Wherever any grassy Turf is view'd,
It seems a Tansie all with Sugar strew'd.
The Sea is one great Blister, till the Sun
Pierce the thick skin and make the Water run.
'Twas ne'r the Sun's right Looking-Glass before;
Ice is the Chrystal, lin'd with silver Oar.
Pierce the thick skin and make the Water run.
18
Ice is the Chrystal, lin'd with silver Oar.
Bold Brittain (if but to her self a Friend)
All the World else seeks vainly her t'offend.
Safe-bulwarkt with two Walls that fates do grant;
With those of Wood and these of Adamant.
All the World else seeks vainly her t'offend.
Safe-bulwarkt with two Walls that fates do grant;
With those of Wood and these of Adamant.
Ladies now testifie what Poets told;
True Pearls they weep, Silver they void and Gold;
But, ah! for all these Comforts they are cold!
We Men grow stiff! no punishment is worse,
When former blessings turn a horrid curse.
Love cools; nay burning Lust is frozen dead,
As cooling Metals lose their shining Red.
The Nuptial sheets, ev'n freez into a Tomb;
And Lovers, their own statues there become.
If some small Thaw from Nature's warmth appears,
The aid is comfortless that ends in Tears.
True Pearls they weep, Silver they void and Gold;
But, ah! for all these Comforts they are cold!
We Men grow stiff! no punishment is worse,
When former blessings turn a horrid curse.
Love cools; nay burning Lust is frozen dead,
As cooling Metals lose their shining Red.
The Nuptial sheets, ev'n freez into a Tomb;
And Lovers, their own statues there become.
If some small Thaw from Nature's warmth appears,
The aid is comfortless that ends in Tears.
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