University of Virginia Library

To his friend Iohn Tailor.

I cannot tell, how other men may praise
The pleasing Method, thy Minerua layes
In whatsoe'r it workes on, but to me
It offers much desir'd varietie,
To passe dull howres withall: with that, affords
Much vsefull matter, which with Phrase, and Words,
And all the aptest ornament of writ
Thy pen doth furnish: This last birth of wit
Is witnesse, worth beleeuing. Like the Glasse
Great Arts-men vse, in shewing things that passe
In parts farre from vs. This presents a Flawe,
Or Storme at Sea: for what I red, I sawe.
I so may speake. Me thought I had in sight,
A Clowd, as blacke as the darke Robe of Night:
Saw that dissolue, and fall in such a showre,
As (mixt with lightning, and that voice of power,
Makes Towres and Castles totter) made an howre
Full of confounding horrour. Then againe,
Mine eyes sad obiect, was the troubled Maine:
Sweld vp, and curl'd, with that impetuous breath,
Makes Land-men quake, and Seamen oft see death.
On this, me thought, I sawe a vessell tost,
Higher then ken, and in a minute, lost
Betweene the Mountaine-billowes: At whose rise
I sawe pale lookes, and heard the heauie cryes,
Of those sad men that man'd her: After all,
I sawe this Storme into a Calmenesse fall,
As plaine, and smooth as Christall. In thy Booke
All this is seene, as on thy lynes we looke.
If where such life is, there can want delight,
Though oft I read, Ile neuer dare to write.