The History of Polindor and Flostella With Other Poems. By I. H. [i.e. John Harington] The third Edition, Revised and much Enlarged |
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 | The History of Polindor and Flostella |  |
What e're here enter'st, know I stood
Once Astorin, of noblest blood
High'st fortunes too; but Uncle base
(Whose Name would fright down Daylight, rayse
Storms, Devils) Brundescar, learn'd in all
Court-mischiefs, crimes, my Fathers fall
Caus'd through forg'd Treason (rare Brothers part!
Worth Hells record) thus, through damn'd art
Beg'd all's Lands, got him banish'd far:
Though soon chang'd life with's Country-ayre,
Small stock bequeathed me: though prim'd
The Cross, my Beggers curse sublim'd
This cloze; That loss much fairer Prize
Snatch'd from me, a Lady, in whose eyes
Blaz'd Beauties Noon; t'whom th' Indies poor,
Th' whole world mere Atome seem'd, no more.
Thus then, some Jewels took, I stray'd
Earths Maze as Pilgrim (Wind's comrade,
Sun's fellow-travailler) that Round,
T'outrun my dogging Griefs, or hound
A Grave forth: Heats, Frosts vex'd by turn:
Till this Globe-pageant, lo, grand Urn
Of all flesh view'd, with weary soles
(Like fortunes tost Ball 'tween the Poles)
My own Shore I trod; now grown Frost-bearded:
Where spying this Nook of rest, thus guarded
From the Worlds noyse, I bought it mine;
Was call'd Harmonus still; Sol's shine
Here many a Sommers progress cher'd.
My Body, found, see kindly interr'd
In its last bed, whose Tomb to th' Cave
Close joyns; with this short Epitaph:
Who three Worlds ranged hath, here lies;
Love's, Sorrow's, That of Vanities.
And in return slip down that board
Oth' wall, 'there's twenty pound (Gold-hoord)
Take it, and th' whole Freehold dispose
As thine; but keep Conditions; close
The poor Harmonus in his Tomb,
As hop'st to tread Elizeum.
Once Astorin, of noblest blood
High'st fortunes too; but Uncle base
(Whose Name would fright down Daylight, rayse
Storms, Devils) Brundescar, learn'd in all
Court-mischiefs, crimes, my Fathers fall
Caus'd through forg'd Treason (rare Brothers part!
Worth Hells record) thus, through damn'd art
Beg'd all's Lands, got him banish'd far:
Though soon chang'd life with's Country-ayre,
Small stock bequeathed me: though prim'd
The Cross, my Beggers curse sublim'd
This cloze; That loss much fairer Prize
Snatch'd from me, a Lady, in whose eyes
Blaz'd Beauties Noon; t'whom th' Indies poor,
Th' whole world mere Atome seem'd, no more.
Thus then, some Jewels took, I stray'd
Earths Maze as Pilgrim (Wind's comrade,
Sun's fellow-travailler) that Round,
T'outrun my dogging Griefs, or hound
A Grave forth: Heats, Frosts vex'd by turn:
Till this Globe-pageant, lo, grand Urn
Of all flesh view'd, with weary soles
(Like fortunes tost Ball 'tween the Poles)
My own Shore I trod; now grown Frost-bearded:
Where spying this Nook of rest, thus guarded
From the Worlds noyse, I bought it mine;
Was call'd Harmonus still; Sol's shine
81
My Body, found, see kindly interr'd
In its last bed, whose Tomb to th' Cave
Close joyns; with this short Epitaph:
Who three Worlds ranged hath, here lies;
Love's, Sorrow's, That of Vanities.
And in return slip down that board
Oth' wall, 'there's twenty pound (Gold-hoord)
Take it, and th' whole Freehold dispose
As thine; but keep Conditions; close
The poor Harmonus in his Tomb,
As hop'st to tread Elizeum.
| The History of Polindor and Flostella | |