 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
Noon Quatrains.
I
The day grows hot, and darts his RaysFrom such a sure and killing place,
That this half World are fain to fly
The danger of his burning eye.
II
His early Glories were benign,Warm to be felt, bright to be seen,
And all was comfort, but who can
Endure him when Meridian?
234
III
Of him we as of Kings complain,Who mildly do begin to reign,
But to the Zenith got of pow'r,
Those whom they should protect devour.
IV
Has not another PhaetonMounted the Chariot of the Sun,
And, wanting Art to guide his Horse,
Is hurri'd from the Sun's due course.
V
If this hold on, our fertile LandsWill soon be turn'd to parched Sands,
And not an Onion that will grow
Without a Nile to overflow.
235
VI
The grazing Herds now droop and pant,Een without labour fit to faint,
And willingly forsook their Meat
To seek out cover from the heat.
VII
The lagging Ox is now unbound,From larding the new turn'd up ground,
Whilst Hobbinal alike o'er-laid,
Takes his course dinner to the shade.
VIII
Cellars and Grottos now are bestTo eat and drink in, or to rest,
And not a Soul above is found
Can find a refuge under ground.
236
IX
When Pagan Tyranny grew hot,Thus persecuted Christians got
Into the dark but friendly Womb
Of unknown Subterranean Rome.
X
And as that heat did cool at last,So a few scorching hours o'er pass'd,
In a more mild and temp'rate Ray
We may again enjoy the day.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |