Poems or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson |
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Observations upon Lillie's
Almanack.
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 | Poems |  |
Observations upon Lillie's Almanack.
Hark how the angry Comet here portends
Woes to some Weals, whilst others he befriends:
And from his glittering Library of Stars,
Denounces what he pleases, peace or wars:
Nor must you say he speaks besides his Books,
Though he but judg their meaning by their looks;
When People know no forhead can impart
All the intrigues and angles of the heart:
Then gentle Reader take what he has said,
Sometimes direct, and sometimes Retrograde.
His knowledge can't be deep, that has exprest,
But superficial judgment at the best.
For I'le maintain it, he may see as far
Into a neather Mill-stone, as a Star.
Woes to some Weals, whilst others he befriends:
And from his glittering Library of Stars,
Denounces what he pleases, peace or wars:
Nor must you say he speaks besides his Books,
Though he but judg their meaning by their looks;
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All the intrigues and angles of the heart:
Then gentle Reader take what he has said,
Sometimes direct, and sometimes Retrograde.
His knowledge can't be deep, that has exprest,
But superficial judgment at the best.
For I'le maintain it, he may see as far
Into a neather Mill-stone, as a Star.
Endymion that had Luna 'bout the midle,
Cou'd none of all her mysteries unridle;
And Lilly too, that all this toil doth keep,
Had, with Endymion been as well asleep.
Shew me a Letter from the Man i'th' Moon,
I'le grant his Book writ with a beam of noon.
Crotchets, and haycromes govern our affairs,
Just so we see our dooms at Tavern-barrs.
He that so oft does the twelve houses name,
Ne'er set a foot in any of the same.
Yet all that there is done, he does record,
As if he their Ascendant were, and Lord.
And yet for all this noise, and six-penny Cut,
Shall his twelve Houses in my Pocket put.
Believ't, if he no better Lodging meet,
He may for all these houses lye i'th street.
And shake his drinkel'd locks half starv'd & dead,
Although he has twelve Houses o're his head.
For these are Castles, Houses in the Aire,
And tho' he know their signs, he can't come there.
And even these signs our wonders too invite,
By day you cannot see 'um, but by night.
From whence, I think, I justly may infer,
An Owle may make a good Astrologer.
Cou'd none of all her mysteries unridle;
And Lilly too, that all this toil doth keep,
Had, with Endymion been as well asleep.
Shew me a Letter from the Man i'th' Moon,
I'le grant his Book writ with a beam of noon.
Crotchets, and haycromes govern our affairs,
Just so we see our dooms at Tavern-barrs.
He that so oft does the twelve houses name,
Ne'er set a foot in any of the same.
Yet all that there is done, he does record,
As if he their Ascendant were, and Lord.
And yet for all this noise, and six-penny Cut,
Shall his twelve Houses in my Pocket put.
Believ't, if he no better Lodging meet,
He may for all these houses lye i'th street.
And shake his drinkel'd locks half starv'd & dead,
Although he has twelve Houses o're his head.
For these are Castles, Houses in the Aire,
And tho' he know their signs, he can't come there.
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By day you cannot see 'um, but by night.
From whence, I think, I justly may infer,
An Owle may make a good Astrologer.
I neither Jupiter nor Saturn dread;
The first rules Pewter, and the second Lead.
'Tis not improbable, Saturn may rage,
'Cause the old dotard lost his golden Age:
For my part, I ne'er found it; for alas!
My age is sometimes silver, sometimes brass.
Sometimes so empty, so Poeticall,
That I protest it is nothing at all.
And, if thy Son has still the Soveraignty;
I think he has gelt me as well as thee.
Let me alone with Bacchus and his Grapes,
I shall not envy Jove, nor his escapes.
But, I confess, I hardly can refrain,
From envying thee, that Star that dropt thy Chain.
The first rules Pewter, and the second Lead.
'Tis not improbable, Saturn may rage,
'Cause the old dotard lost his golden Age:
For my part, I ne'er found it; for alas!
My age is sometimes silver, sometimes brass.
Sometimes so empty, so Poeticall,
That I protest it is nothing at all.
And, if thy Son has still the Soveraignty;
I think he has gelt me as well as thee.
Let me alone with Bacchus and his Grapes,
I shall not envy Jove, nor his escapes.
But, I confess, I hardly can refrain,
From envying thee, that Star that dropt thy Chain.
An Almanack's a store-house, where old wives
May furnisht be with Fables all their Lives.
His worship's weather-wise, this month he says,
That many aged People end their days:
As if there were a moment, wherein some,
Or other do not to their long homes come.
These Lord Ascendants pronounce war or peace,
Ope' and shut Janus Temple as they please.
Hyppocrates himself might undertake,
To learn Prognosticks of an Almanack:
Nay, they must ne'er out-strip him Cent. per Cent,
They the Disease foretell, he but th' event.
This Proverb (It is easier to believe,
Than to disprove) does them advantage give.
Lies borrow faith; but they get nothing by't
At the years end; for Time brings truth to light.
May furnisht be with Fables all their Lives.
His worship's weather-wise, this month he says,
That many aged People end their days:
As if there were a moment, wherein some,
Or other do not to their long homes come.
These Lord Ascendants pronounce war or peace,
Ope' and shut Janus Temple as they please.
Hyppocrates himself might undertake,
To learn Prognosticks of an Almanack:
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They the Disease foretell, he but th' event.
This Proverb (It is easier to believe,
Than to disprove) does them advantage give.
Lies borrow faith; but they get nothing by't
At the years end; for Time brings truth to light.
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