University of Virginia Library

Another Song.

[The Winter of my infancy being over-past]

The Winter of my infancy being over-past
Then supposed, suddenly the Spring would hast
Which useth everything to cheare
With invitacion to recreacion
This time of yeare.

57

The Sun sends forth his radient beames to warm the ground
The drops distil, between the gleams delights abound,
Ver brings her mate the flowery Queen,
The Groves shee dresses, her Art expresses
On every Green.
But in my Spring it was not so, but contrary,
For no delightfull flowers grew to please the eye,
No hopefull bud, nor fruitfull bough,
No moderat showers which causeth flowers
To spring and grow.
My Aprill was exceeding dry, therfore unkind;
Whence tis that small utility I look to find,
For when that Aprill is so dry,
(As hath been spoken) it doth betoken
Much scarcity.
Thus is my Spring now almost past in heavinesse
The Sky of pleasure's over-cast with sad distresse
For by a comfortlesse Eclips,
Disconsolacion and sore vexacion,
My blossom nips.
Yet as a garden is my mind enclosed fast
Being to safety so confind from storm and blast
Apt to produce a fruit most rare,
That is not common with every woman
That fruitfull are.
A Love of goodnesse is the cheifest plant therin
The second is, (for to be briefe) Dislike to sin,

58

These grow in spight of misery,
Which Grace doth nourish and cause to flourish
Continually.
But evill mocions, currupt seeds, fall here also
whence springs prophanesse as do weeds where flowers grow
VVhich must supplanted be with speed
These weeds of Error, Distrust and Terror,
Lest woe succeed
So shall they not molest, the plants before exprest
Which countervails these outward wants, & purchase rest
Which more commodious is for me
Then outward pleasures or earthly treasures
Enjoyd would be.
My little Hopes of worldly Gain I fret not at,
As yet I do this Hope retain; though Spring be lat
Perhaps my Sommer-age may be,
Not prejudiciall, but benificiall
[illeg.] for me.
Admit the worst it be not so, but stormy too,
He learn my selfe to undergo more then I doe
And still content my self with this
Sweet Meditacion and Contemplacion
Of heavenly blis,
VVhich for the Saints reserved is who persevere
In Piety and Holynesse, and godly Feare,
The pleasures of which blis divine
Neither Logician nor Rhetorician
Can well define.