University of Virginia Library

[Chap.] 3.

He, when excesse of Sorrow, had given way
To the reliefe of words, thus curs'd his Day:
O perish may the Day, which first gave light
To me, most wretched! and the fatall Night
Of my Conception! let that Day be bound
In Clouds of Pitch, nor walke the Etheriall Round.
Let God not write it in his Roll of Dayes:
Nor let the Sunne restore it with his Raies.
Let Deaths darke Shades involve, no light appeare
But dreadfull Lightnings: its owne horrors feare.
Be it the first of Miseries to all,
Or last of Life; defam'd with Funerall.
O be that dismall Night, for ever blind!
Lost in it selfe; nor to the Day rejoyn'd!
Nor numbred in the swift Circumference
Of Monthes and Yeares; but vanish in offence.
O let it sad and solitary prove:
No sprightly Musicke heare, nor Songs of Love.
Let wandring Apparitions then affright
The trembling Bride, and quench the Nuptiall light.
O Let those hate it, who the Day-light hate:
Who mourne and grone beneath their sorrowes waight.
Let the eclipsed Moone, her Throne resigne,
In steed of Starres, let Blazing Meteors shine.
Let it not see the Dawning flecke the skies;
Nor the gray Morning from the Ocean rise:
Because the Doore of Life it left unclos'd;
And me, a wretch, to cruell fates expos'd.
Oh why was I not strangled in the wombe!
Nor in that secret prison found a Tombe!
Or since untimely borne; why did not I
(The next of blessings) in that instant die?
Why kneel'd the Midwife at my Mothers throes!
With paine produc'd! and nurse for future woes!
Else had I an eternall Requiem kept;
And in the armes of Peace for ever slept:
With Kings and Princes ranckt; who lofty frames
In Deserts rais'd, t'immortalize their Names:
Who made the wealth, of Prouinces their prey:
In death as mighty, and as rich, as they.
Then I, as an Abortive, had not beene;
Nor with the hated Light, such Sorrowes seene:
Slept, where none ere by violence opprest;
And where the weary from their Labors rest:
No Prisoners there, inforc'd by torments, cry;
But fearelesse by their old Tormentors Lye:
The Meane, and Great, on equall Bases stand;
No Servants there obey, nor Lords command.
Why should afflicted Soules in anguish live!
And only have immunitie to grieve?
Oh how they wish for Death, to close their eyes!
But oh, in vaine? since he the wretched flyes.
For whom they dig, as Pioners for Gold;
Which the darke entrales of the Earth unfold:
And having found him, as their Libertie,
With Ioy encounter; and contented die.
Why should he live, from whom God hath the path
Of safetie hid, incompast with his wrath?
In Stormes of sigh's I taste my bitter food:
My grones breake from me, like a roaring flood.
The Ruine which I fear'd, and in my thought
So oft revolv'd, one fatall Houre hath brought.
Nor durst I on Prosperitie presume;
Or time in sleepe; and barren Ease consume;
But watcht my weary steps: and yet for all
My Providence, these Plagues upon me fall.