Olor Iscanus A Collection of some Select Poems, and Translations, Formerly written by Mr. Henry Vaughan Silurist. Published by a Friend |
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To my friend the Authour upon these his Poems. |
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 | Olor Iscanus |  |
To my friend the Authour upon these his Poems.
I call'd it once my sloth: In such an ageSo many Volumes deep, I not a page?
But I recant, and vow 'twas thriftie Care
That kept my Pen from spending on slight ware,
And breath'd it for a Prize, whose pow'rfull shine
Doth both reward the striver, and refine;
Such are thy Poems, friend: for since th'hast writ,
I cann't reply to any name, but wit;
And left amidst the throng that make us grone,
Mine prove a groundless Heresie alone,
Thus I dispute. Hath there not rev'rence bin
Pay'd to the Beard at doore, for Lord within?
Who notes the spindle-leg, or hollow eye
Of the thinne Usher, the faire Lady by?
Thus I sinne freely, neighbour to a hand
Which while I aime to strengthen, gives Command
For my protection, and thou art to me
At once my Subject and Securitie.
I. Rowlandson Oxoniensis.
| Olor Iscanus | |