Tixall Poetry.
301
Lost not to me, but you, to whom they're meant;
They crowne my merrit to its wisht extent,
Though your just scorne their best effect prevent.
They crowne my merrit to its wisht extent,
Though your just scorne their best effect prevent.
But now you've freed me from this life's pretence,
I'le joyful quit all that I have of sence,
To meet in death my long'd-for recompence.
I'le joyful quit all that I have of sence,
To meet in death my long'd-for recompence.
When I a happy ghost about you walke,
See that your promise you doe never balke,
But let me with full freedom to you talke.
See that your promise you doe never balke,
But let me with full freedom to you talke.
Bid servile feare and reverence farewell,
What I dislike, or like, directly tell,
Where you soar'd nobly, where you flag'd, where fell.
What I dislike, or like, directly tell,
Where you soar'd nobly, where you flag'd, where fell.
In your omissions and commissions too,
Your angell-guardian's office I would doe,
None else more carefull, more concern'd for you.
Your angell-guardian's office I would doe,
None else more carefull, more concern'd for you.
Your beautye's fear'd effects you first shall know,
Like Phaeton, no middle course would goe,
But fyr'd the stars, then scorcht the earth below.
Like Phaeton, no middle course would goe,
But fyr'd the stars, then scorcht the earth below.
