Tixall Poetry.
69
Relent thy rigor and our paine,
Let pitty temper thy disdaine;
Least we thy blaising apparition call
Not our sunn's rising, but our Phæton's fall.
Let pitty temper thy disdaine;
Least we thy blaising apparition call
Not our sunn's rising, but our Phæton's fall.
Oh, tell rich plant whom heaven allowes
To clime and clipp thy fruetfull bowes?
Which here transplanted make all sweet,
And happy they in one to meete.
That, as in th' other Indian tree,
Meate, drinke, cloath, light, united be,
So for a portion and dowrye he
May find the summ of all the world in thee.
To clime and clipp thy fruetfull bowes?
Which here transplanted make all sweet,
And happy they in one to meete.
That, as in th' other Indian tree,
Meate, drinke, cloath, light, united be,
So for a portion and dowrye he
May find the summ of all the world in thee.
