 | Poems &c. By James Shirley |  |
32
To the E. of S. upon his recovery.
My Lord, the voice that did your sicknes tell,
Strook like a midnight chime or knell;
At every sound
I took into my sence a wound,
Which had no cure till I did hear
Your health agen
Restor'd, and then
There was a balsame powr'd into mine ear.
Strook like a midnight chime or knell;
At every sound
I took into my sence a wound,
Which had no cure till I did hear
Your health agen
Restor'd, and then
There was a balsame powr'd into mine ear.
It was my wonder first, what could invade
A temper was so even made;
Then fear stept in,
Lest nature should commit a sin
By yeelding to resigne your breath,
Upon whose herse
All tears and verse
Would fall, but not enough lament your death.
A temper was so even made;
Then fear stept in,
Lest nature should commit a sin
By yeelding to resigne your breath,
Upon whose herse
All tears and verse
Would fall, but not enough lament your death.
But hymnes are now requir'd, 'tis time to rise,
And pay the altar sacrifice,
My heart allowes
No gummes, nor amber, but pure vowes,
There's fire at breathing of your name,
And do not fear,
I have a tear
Of joy, to curb any immodest flame.
And pay the altar sacrifice,
My heart allowes
No gummes, nor amber, but pure vowes,
There's fire at breathing of your name,
And do not fear,
I have a tear
Of joy, to curb any immodest flame.
33
In you, since honour is restor'd, oh may
Health in your noble bosome stay,
And with your blood
Move in a Circle all that's good;
And though Time sicken with his yeers,
And winter's come,
Let your Age bloome,
And look as fresh as when the Spring appears.
Health in your noble bosome stay,
And with your blood
Move in a Circle all that's good;
And though Time sicken with his yeers,
And winter's come,
Let your Age bloome,
And look as fresh as when the Spring appears.
| Poems &c. By James Shirley | |