 | Englands Helicon |  |
A Pastorall Ode to an honourable friend.
As to the blooming prime,
Bleake Winter being fled:
From compasse of the clime,
Where Nature lay as dead,
The Riuers dull'd with time,
The greene leaues withered,
Fresh Zephyri (the Westerne brethren) be:
So th'honour of your fauour is to me.
Bleake Winter being fled:
From compasse of the clime,
Where Nature lay as dead,
The Riuers dull'd with time,
The greene leaues withered,
Fresh Zephyri (the Westerne brethren) be:
So th'honour of your fauour is to me.
For as the Plaines reuiue,
And put on youthfull greene:
As plants begin to thriue,
That disattir'd had beene:
And Arbours now aliue,
In former pompe are seene.
So if my Spring had any flowers before:
Your breathes Fauomus hath encreast the store.
And put on youthfull greene:
As plants begin to thriue,
That disattir'd had beene:
And Arbours now aliue,
In former pompe are seene.
So if my Spring had any flowers before:
Your breathes Fauomus hath encreast the store.
FINIS.
E. B.
| Englands Helicon | |