University of Virginia Library



To his friend Mr. H. Mill, upon his Discoveries of Night.

Kind Friend, th' ast made a golden frame,
For glorie of thy lasting name;
Thou paint'st most faire the foulest globe,
Hell-hounds in a most comely robe;
Vertues luster, for all mens sight,
Wit and sense do touch aright:
A stile that is so Indian rich,
As brave Palace exceeds a ditch,
Proves he haunted the pious wayes,
Yet shewes the ill of all those dayes,
To see the Verge, not to enter
Vices Circle, know the Center.
To him is given so large a grant,
Each of the Nine shall be his Aunt;
Whose Cherub-Muse hath wing alone,
To fetch that Ore from Helicon:
Pride of the tongue, from Peru shore,
The words rich Ingots, subject poore.
That Poet doth excell in parts,
When matter smels perfum'd by Arts;
Not he who hath a noble theame,
Weighs out his phrase with Cicros Beame:
Print, buy this book, all that live well;
Who this despise, are bound for Hell.
Edw. Peyton Knight and Baronet.