University of Virginia Library

Melancholy.

When all was silenc'd, and in Peace was lain,
When ev'n Revenge some Rest did entertain,
The God of Sleep did then my Soul surprize,
And cover'd with a Veil my wearied Eyes,
The happiest Minute of Repose to me,
Which from this living Death could set me free.
But when Apollo re-salutes our Sphere,
Driving his Chariot through the travell'd Air,
My Pains that slept a-while, begin to rise
And ev'ry Ray that's darted, wracks mine Eyes.
The loathsome Light my active Globes consound,
And ev'ry rising Sun renews the Wound.
The fetter'd Slaves the Light are glad to see,
Which for a-while diverts their Misery,
Sure then the World was made for all but me.
My poignant Pains do on the Sun attend,
To whatsoever Tropick he does bend,
And tho' my dismal Thoughts like Planets rove,
Yet in one Vortex with the Sun they move,
His Influence creates new Pains, new Woe,
As the Moon makes the Waters ebb and flow.
But when Sol's Coursers do begin to cool
Their flaming Nostrils in the Crystal Pool,
My Flames abate and to the Waters run,
That they with greater Vigour may return.
Oh strange! how much dismay'd I am to see,
A Chain of Miseries entail'd on me,
That glorious Light which all the World does prize
Doth cast a Cloud of Sorrow on my Eyes;
The worst of Adam's Sons, the only Heir,
Born to be tortur'd by the Weight of Care.