Clarastella Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath |
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On a Map of the World accidentally faln into the water and spoiled.
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On a Map of the World accidentally faln into the water and spoiled.
The world drown'd once agen? sure holy text
Saies it should be by fire dissolved next.
Deucalion then weeps for this world, as much
As once for th'old he did, it's sins are such:
And as before he drown'd a world of men,
In figure thus by chance it sinks agen.
Saies it should be by fire dissolved next.
Deucalion then weeps for this world, as much
As once for th'old he did, it's sins are such:
And as before he drown'd a world of men,
In figure thus by chance it sinks agen.
Who Plato's book of Commonwealth did view
By mice devour'd and thought thence would ensue
A fatal Period of the publick State;
Would ha' presag'd the like unhappy fate
(Had but he seen this) were attending us,
And construed this dire chance as ominous
I'l not obtrude for truths Prophetick dreams;
Yet Mara's waters like Nil's seavnfold streams
'Tofore that gently did but wet this Land
Now in a purple lake of bloud do stand
And quite o'rwhelm't: and which is worse we fear
No Olivebranch wil e'r agen appear.
The Microcosme of individual man
See how that wavers in an Ocean
Of perillous inconstancie! whilst phlegme
And crude raw humours quench the fires in him;
That his split-sailes bear not the gentlest blast
See how the Moral world in strife doth wast!
And by like jarring doth decay! whilst we
From il to worse stil slide, and in a sea
Of Error drown at last! Since then we see
Both these and the material world must be
I'th end dissolv'd: I grieve the lesse for thee,
That art all theirs but thin Epitomie.
By mice devour'd and thought thence would ensue
A fatal Period of the publick State;
Would ha' presag'd the like unhappy fate
(Had but he seen this) were attending us,
And construed this dire chance as ominous
I'l not obtrude for truths Prophetick dreams;
Yet Mara's waters like Nil's seavnfold streams
'Tofore that gently did but wet this Land
Now in a purple lake of bloud do stand
And quite o'rwhelm't: and which is worse we fear
No Olivebranch wil e'r agen appear.
The Microcosme of individual man
See how that wavers in an Ocean
Of perillous inconstancie! whilst phlegme
And crude raw humours quench the fires in him;
That his split-sailes bear not the gentlest blast
See how the Moral world in strife doth wast!
And by like jarring doth decay! whilst we
From il to worse stil slide, and in a sea
Of Error drown at last! Since then we see
Both these and the material world must be
I'th end dissolv'd: I grieve the lesse for thee,
That art all theirs but thin Epitomie.
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