 | Poems By John Hall |  |
To the honoured Authour Mr. Hall on his Poems.
Do'st
mean to spoil thy self? do knotly arts
And pale-fac'd study fit the silken parts
Of Gentle-men? or can'st thou stretch thy ears
To hear the holy accents of the sphears
From their own volumes? wilt thou let thy hand
Tempt their strange measures in religious sand?
And pale-fac'd study fit the silken parts
Of Gentle-men? or can'st thou stretch thy ears
To hear the holy accents of the sphears
From their own volumes? wilt thou let thy hand
Tempt their strange measures in religious sand?
Summon thy lungs, and with an angry breath
Ravell the curious dust, and throw't beneath
Thy braver feet, 'tis too too low, go hence
And see the sphears with blest intelligence
Moving at tennis; Go and steep thy brain
In fluent Nectar: or go vie a strain
In goatish courtship; that (indeed) were good
Currently noble. Nothing taint's the bloud
Like this (base) study; Hence ye arts, be gone
Ye brats, which serious superstition
Brings to the thred-bare parent—
Ravell the curious dust, and throw't beneath
Thy braver feet, 'tis too too low, go hence
And see the sphears with blest intelligence
Moving at tennis; Go and steep thy brain
In fluent Nectar: or go vie a strain
In goatish courtship; that (indeed) were good
Currently noble. Nothing taint's the bloud
Like this (base) study; Hence ye arts, be gone
Ye brats, which serious superstition
Brings to the thred-bare parent—
But thou, brave youth, with prudent skill hast taught
Thy purged ear to hear, yet not be caught
With these fond Sirens. Thy green thoughts may vie
With hoary wisdome: thy clear soul can spie
The mines of knowledge, can as quickly store
It self, and dive to the retired Or,
Thou like that Eater (whom thy happy song
Shall cause to eat up time himself) with strong
And sprightly heat, thou can'st each art digest
In the vast stomach of thy knowing brest,
And when severer thoughts at length shall please
T'unbend themselves, then with such strains as these
Thou court'st each witty Goddesse, and do'st tie
Thy purer ease in their festivity.
Thy purged ear to hear, yet not be caught
With these fond Sirens. Thy green thoughts may vie
With hoary wisdome: thy clear soul can spie
The mines of knowledge, can as quickly store
Thou like that Eater (whom thy happy song
Shall cause to eat up time himself) with strong
And sprightly heat, thou can'st each art digest
In the vast stomach of thy knowing brest,
And when severer thoughts at length shall please
T'unbend themselves, then with such strains as these
Thou court'st each witty Goddesse, and do'st tie
Thy purer ease in their festivity.
Ηυτοχεδιασε
Ja. Windet M. A. Reginal.
| Poems By John Hall | |