80
To Endimion Porter.
It is (Lord of my Muse and heart) since last
Thy sight inspir'd me, many ages past.
In darknesse thick as ill-met Clouds can make,
In sleeps wherein the last Trump scarce could wake
The guiltlesse dead, I lay; and hidden more
Than Truth, which testy Controverts explore.
More hid than paths of Snakes, to their deep beds,
Or walkes of Mountaine-Springs from their first Heads:
And when my long forgotten Eies, and Mind,
Awak'd; I thought to see the Sunne declin'd
Through age, to th' influence of a Starre, and Men
So small, that they might live in Wombes agen.
But now, my strength's so giantly, that were
The great Hill-lifters once more toyling here;
They'ld choose me out, for active Back, for Bone,
To heave at Pælion first, and heave alone.
Thy sight inspir'd me, many ages past.
In darknesse thick as ill-met Clouds can make,
In sleeps wherein the last Trump scarce could wake
The guiltlesse dead, I lay; and hidden more
Than Truth, which testy Controverts explore.
More hid than paths of Snakes, to their deep beds,
Or walkes of Mountaine-Springs from their first Heads:
And when my long forgotten Eies, and Mind,
Awak'd; I thought to see the Sunne declin'd
Through age, to th' influence of a Starre, and Men
So small, that they might live in Wombes agen.
But now, my strength's so giantly, that were
The great Hill-lifters once more toyling here;
They'ld choose me out, for active Back, for Bone,
To heave at Pælion first, and heave alone.
No
