 | The character of a London-Diurnall |  |
Upon Phillis walking in a morning before Sun-rising.
The sluggish morne, as yet undrest,
My Phillis brake from out her East;
As if shee'd made a match to runne
With Venus Usher to the sunne.
The trees like yeomen of her guard,
Serving more for pomp then ward,
Rank't on each side with loyall duty,
Weave branches to inclose her beauty.
The Plants whose luxurie was lopt,
Or age with crutches underpropt;
Whose wooden carkases are grown
To be but coffins of their owne;
Revive, and at her generall dole
Each receives his antient soule.
The winged Choristers began
To chirp their Matins: and the Fan
Of whistling winds like Organs plai'd,
Untill their Voluntaries made
The wakened earth in Odours rise
To be her morning Sacrifice.
The flowers call'd out of their beds,
Start, and raise up their drowsie heads:
And he that for their colour seekes,
May finde it vaulting in her cheekes,
Where roses mix: no Civill War
Between her Yorke, and Lancaster.
The Mary-gold whose Courtiers face
Eccho's the sunne, and doth unlace
Her at his rise, at his full stop
Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop,
Mistakes her cue, and doth display.
Thus Phillis antidates the day.
My Phillis brake from out her East;
As if shee'd made a match to runne
With Venus Usher to the sunne.
The trees like yeomen of her guard,
Serving more for pomp then ward,
Rank't on each side with loyall duty,
Weave branches to inclose her beauty.
The Plants whose luxurie was lopt,
Or age with crutches underpropt;
14
To be but coffins of their owne;
Revive, and at her generall dole
Each receives his antient soule.
The winged Choristers began
To chirp their Matins: and the Fan
Of whistling winds like Organs plai'd,
Untill their Voluntaries made
The wakened earth in Odours rise
To be her morning Sacrifice.
The flowers call'd out of their beds,
Start, and raise up their drowsie heads:
And he that for their colour seekes,
May finde it vaulting in her cheekes,
Where roses mix: no Civill War
Between her Yorke, and Lancaster.
The Mary-gold whose Courtiers face
Eccho's the sunne, and doth unlace
Her at his rise, at his full stop
Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop,
Mistakes her cue, and doth display.
Thus Phillis antidates the day.
These miracles had cramp't the sunne,
Who thinking that his Kingdom's wonne,
Powders with light his frizled locks,
To see what Saint his lustre mocks.
The trembling leaves through which he plai'd,
Dapling the walke with light and shade,
Like Lattice-windowes, give the spye
Room but to peep with halfe an eye;
Least her full Orb his sight should dim,
And bids us all good-night in him,
Till she would spend a gentle ray
To force us a new fashion'd day.
But what religious Paulsie's this
Which makes the boughs divest their bliss?
And that they might her foot-steps strawe,
Drop their leaves with shivering awe.
Phillis perceives, and (least her stay
Should wed October unto May;
And as her beauty caus'd a Spring,
Devotion might an Autumne bring)
With-drew her beames, yet made no night,
But left the Sun her Curate-light.
Who thinking that his Kingdom's wonne,
Powders with light his frizled locks,
To see what Saint his lustre mocks.
The trembling leaves through which he plai'd,
Dapling the walke with light and shade,
Like Lattice-windowes, give the spye
Room but to peep with halfe an eye;
Least her full Orb his sight should dim,
And bids us all good-night in him,
15
To force us a new fashion'd day.
But what religious Paulsie's this
Which makes the boughs divest their bliss?
And that they might her foot-steps strawe,
Drop their leaves with shivering awe.
Phillis perceives, and (least her stay
Should wed October unto May;
And as her beauty caus'd a Spring,
Devotion might an Autumne bring)
With-drew her beames, yet made no night,
But left the Sun her Curate-light.
| The character of a London-Diurnall | |