Shall Creatures abject, thus their voices raise?
And in their kind resound their makers praise,
Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher layes.
When present times look back to Ages past,
And men in being fancy those are dead,
It makes things gone perpetually to last,
And calls back moneths and years that long since fled.
It makes a man more aged in conceit,
Then was Methuselah, or 's grandsire great;
While of their persons & their acts his mind doth treat.
Sometimes in Eden fair, he seems to be,
Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all,
Fancyes the Apple, dangle on the Tree,
That turn'd his Sovereign to a naked thral,
Who like a miscreant's driven from that place,
To get his bread with pain and sweat of face
A penalty impos'd on his backsliding Race.
Here sits our Grandame in retired place,
And in her lap, her bloody Cain new-born,
The weeping Imp oft looks her in the face,
Bewails his unknown hap and fate forlorn;
His Mother sighs to think of Paradise,
And how she lost her bliss to be more wise,
Beleiving him that was, and is Father of lyes.
Here Cain and Abel came to sacrifice,
Fruits of the Earth and Fatlings each do bring,
On Abels gift the fire descends from Skies,
But no such sign on false Cain's offering;
With sullen, hateful looks he goes his wayes;
Hath thousand thoughts to end his brothers dayes,
Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to raise.
