Annagramma FRANCIS ROVSE, Rise Car Of Svn.
Rise Car Of Svn, convey thy purer light
Into our souls, so shall they know no Night.
Is
Nestor then reviv'd? was ever Realm
So blest as this, had ever any Helme
So wise a Steersman? dost thou ask what Bee
Drew Honey from the Fathers? this is he.
Here's David's spirit iust, each Psalme, each line
Seemes no Translation, but genuine.
My soul take this Sybilla's golden branch
To clear thy way so shalt thou safely lanch
Through troublous Seas. Grave Sir (in whose rare mind
The Sept'agint resides) when you refin'd
The drossie English Psalms, upon your tongue
The Angels sacred Lutes and Vials hung.
I see a Phenix; whensoe're I look
Vpon your rare inesteemeable book;
If mercy by a golden chaine e're drew
His hearers by the ears, w'are drawn by you.
Your Colledg-crowning gifts, content us more
Then richest Jewels on the Indian shore.
Will the Majestick Eagle stoop so low
As look upon poor sily flyes? although
The Eagle will not, yet you shine upon us.
Bestowing Hony-droping favours on us.
Your flouds, we see doe overflow the banks
Of our deserts, and can we ebb in thanks?
Scarce Atlas back is big enough to bear
Your goodness firmament: supose there were
No Sun to gild out Hemispher, wee quite
Should not be blind, thy psalm book is our light.
Why gild I gold? The more I doe endeavour
T'aproach your worth, I'm further of then ever,
Go on blest Sir, your Honorable name
Shall alwaies stretch, the vocal cheeks of fame.
