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 | Miscellaneous works of George Wither |  |
He, that, our grand Ænigma's must unriddle
Is in the Zenith now, ev'n in the middle
Of that place, where our fatall Gordian-knot,
(If my conjectures greatly fail me not)
Must be unti'd, or cut; and if so fast
And so ensnarl'd it be, that, at the last
The Sword must once again the same unknit,
Woe be to them who shall occasion it.
O'er LONDON, now that Luminary shines,
Which, I foretold in my last publish'd lines,
Should be the Mountain whence that winde would blow
Which of our greatest weal, or greatest woe,
Should instrumental be; and I expect
Accordingly, ere long time, an effect.
Is in the Zenith now, ev'n in the middle
Of that place, where our fatall Gordian-knot,
(If my conjectures greatly fail me not)
Must be unti'd, or cut; and if so fast
And so ensnarl'd it be, that, at the last
The Sword must once again the same unknit,
Woe be to them who shall occasion it.
O'er LONDON, now that Luminary shines,
Which, I foretold in my last publish'd lines,
Should be the Mountain whence that winde would blow
Which of our greatest weal, or greatest woe,
Should instrumental be; and I expect
Accordingly, ere long time, an effect.
| Miscellaneous works of George Wither | |