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Bosworth-field

With a Taste of the Variety of Other Poems, Left by Sir John Beaumont ... Set Forth by his Sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont
 

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To the Prince.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


132

To the Prince.

If eu'ry man a little world we name?
You are a World most like the greatest frame:
Your loue of Learning spreads your glory farre,
Lifts you to heau'n, and makes you there a Starre.
In actiue sports, and formes of martiall deeds,
Like Fire and Ayre your nimble courage breeds
A rare amazement, and a sweet delight
To Brittaines, who behold so deare a sight:
Though higher Orbes such glorious signes containe,
Doe not (braue Prince) this lower Globe disdaine.
In pure and fruitfull water we may see
Your minde from darkenesse cleare, in bounty free:
And in the steddy resting of the ground,
Your noble firmenesse to your friend is found:
For you are still the same, and where you loue,
No absence can your constant mind remoue.
So goodnesse spreads it selfe with endlesse lines,
And so the Light in distant places shines:
He that aduentures of your worth to sing,
Attempts in vaine, to paint a boundlesse thing.