Page:Omniana 2.djvu/179

Each goodly sight my sense doth captivate,
When vernal flowers their silken leaves display.
And ope their fragrant bosomes, I that state
Would not have changed, but indure for aye;
Nor care to mind that that fatall decay
Is still secured by faithfull succession.
But why should aught that's good thus fade away?
Should steddy spring exclude summer's accession?
Or summer spoil the spring with furious hot oppression!

You chearfull chaunters of the flowring woods,
That feed your carelesse souls with pleasant layes,
O silly birds! cease from your merry moods:
Ill suits such mirth when dreary death's assayes
So closely presse your sory carkases:
To mournfull note turn your light verilayes,
Death be your song, and winter's hoary sprayes,
Spend your vain sprights in sighing elegies:
I'll help you to lament your wofull miseries.

When we lay cover'd in the shady night
Of senselesse matter, we were well content
With that estate, nought pierced our anxious spright.
No harm we suffered, no harm we ment;
Our rest not with light dream of ill was blent:
But when rough Nature, with her iron bond,
Pull'd us from our soft ease, and hither hent,
Disturbing tear and pinching pain we found,
Full many a bitter blast, full many a dreadful stound.