 | Divine Fancies |  |
117. To my Booke .
So; Now tis time to waine thee from my brest;
Thy Teeth grow sharp, my Babe; It will be best
For both: Thy hasty Nurse is come to take thee
Frō my fond arms: Nere whimper; he wil make thee
A dainty golden Coate: Let it suffice thee,
Thou art mine stil: howere; Thy Nurse wil prize thee
For his own sake and thine: When thou art strong,
And sure of foot, hee'l let thee sport among
Thy fellow children; He will let thee see
The World, which thou hadst never seene, with me:
Thou mayst doe well; if Fortune strike thee lucke,
And faire Opinion; Thou didst never sucke
But one good Friday, and thou mayst improove
As well in Merit, as in pop'ular love:
Thou hast sixe Brethren (borne as well as thee
Of a free Muse) legitimate and free;
Pages to Cesar, and in Cesars Court,
Besides an Ishmael, that attends the Port
Of a great Lord, an Honourable Peere
Of this blest Realme: If ere thou wander, there,
They'l bid thee welcome, at their times of leasure,
Perchance, and bring thee to the hand of Cesar:
Thou art but young, and tender, (for who knowes
The paths of Fate?) perhaps, and one of those
Whom Clotho favors not; perchance, thy Twine
May be produc'd (for thou art halfe divine)
To after Ages, to the utmost date
Of Time; who knowes? but we subscribe to Fate:
Perchance, thy Fortune's to be bought and sold;
Was not young Ioseph serv'd the like of old?
Thy Bondage may, like his, be made, perchance,
A steppe to Honour, and a meanes t'advance
Thy higher Fortunes, and prepare thy hand
To ease a dearth, if dearth should strike the Land:
Thy Teeth grow sharp, my Babe; It will be best
For both: Thy hasty Nurse is come to take thee
Frō my fond arms: Nere whimper; he wil make thee
A dainty golden Coate: Let it suffice thee,
Thou art mine stil: howere; Thy Nurse wil prize thee
For his own sake and thine: When thou art strong,
And sure of foot, hee'l let thee sport among
Thy fellow children; He will let thee see
The World, which thou hadst never seene, with me:
Thou mayst doe well; if Fortune strike thee lucke,
And faire Opinion; Thou didst never sucke
But one good Friday, and thou mayst improove
As well in Merit, as in pop'ular love:
Thou hast sixe Brethren (borne as well as thee
Of a free Muse) legitimate and free;
Pages to Cesar, and in Cesars Court,
Besides an Ishmael, that attends the Port
Of a great Lord, an Honourable Peere
Of this blest Realme: If ere thou wander, there,
206
Perchance, and bring thee to the hand of Cesar:
Thou art but young, and tender, (for who knowes
The paths of Fate?) perhaps, and one of those
Whom Clotho favors not; perchance, thy Twine
May be produc'd (for thou art halfe divine)
To after Ages, to the utmost date
Of Time; who knowes? but we subscribe to Fate:
Perchance, thy Fortune's to be bought and sold;
Was not young Ioseph serv'd the like of old?
Thy Bondage may, like his, be made, perchance,
A steppe to Honour, and a meanes t'advance
Thy higher Fortunes, and prepare thy hand
To ease a dearth, if dearth should strike the Land:
But I transgresse, my Babe; 'Tis time to part;
The Lawes of Nature breake the Rules of Art;
Once more farewel: Let Heav'ns high blessings shine
On my poore Babe, as my poore Babe has mine.
The Lawes of Nature breake the Rules of Art;
Once more farewel: Let Heav'ns high blessings shine
On my poore Babe, as my poore Babe has mine.
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