 | The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan
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Sonet 8.
If Lines which Sphears in equall shares divyde,
But once the Center, twice the Circle touch,
Like slow-pac'd snails, why then still doe wee crouch,
Still craule on earth, on earth still grov'ling bide?
Let fayth our flight aboue Heaven's circuits guide
Where wee should dwell, redoubling our desires.
The Doue, no rest heere finding, streight retyres,
But in our Prison plac'd is all our pride.
As all the vast inferiour orbs of Heaven,
By proper pace, vnsensibly are rold,
But hurld about, with motion vncontrold,
Are by the Highest violently driven,
O Mover first, let mee thy motion proue
In grace, who rather retrograde than moue.
| The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan
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