 | The Poetical Recreations of Mr. Alexander Craig |  |
To Idea at her bownes.
Ah, whither now (sweet Sant) art thou retired?
Souls-raviser, alas, where art thou gone?
Thy bewtie now can be no more admired,
Since thou delightst to lurke and liue alone:
Now Hermit-like thou hantst, the more the pittie,
And for the Farme forbear's the famous Cittie.
Souls-raviser, alas, where art thou gone?
Thy bewtie now can be no more admired,
Since thou delightst to lurke and liue alone:
Now Hermit-like thou hantst, the more the pittie,
And for the Farme forbear's the famous Cittie.
Look to thy selfe, thou dwel'st too neere the sea,
Neptun no doubt will from those rocks bereaue thee:
And with his wife divorse for loue of thee:
Yet am I glade, none but a God must haue thee:
VVhen winds and waves, and all are at thy will,
Proue not vnkinde, J pray thee loue me still.
Neptun no doubt will from those rocks bereaue thee:
And with his wife divorse for loue of thee:
Yet am I glade, none but a God must haue thee:
VVhen winds and waves, and all are at thy will,
Proue not vnkinde, J pray thee loue me still.
| The Poetical Recreations of Mr. Alexander Craig | |