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And this (my chiefe of Lords) made me designe
Those noble flames, sprung from your nobler Wine,
To keepe my spirits warme; till I could prove
My Numbers smooth, and mighty as my love:
Yet such my treach'rous fate, that I this night
(Fierce with untutor'd heat) did vow to write:
But happy those, who undertake no more
Than what their stock of rage hath rul'd before!
It is a Poet's sinne, that doth excell
In love, or wine, not to resolve how well,
But strait how much to write; for then wee think
The vast tumultuous Sea is but our Ink;
The World, our Forest too; and that wee may
Beleeve each Tree, that in it growes, a Bay.
My Vow now kept, I'm loth (my Lord) to doe
Wrong to your justice, and your mercy too;
The last, if you vouchsafe; you will excuse
A strong Religion here, though not a Muse.
Those noble flames, sprung from your nobler Wine,
To keepe my spirits warme; till I could prove
My Numbers smooth, and mighty as my love:
Yet such my treach'rous fate, that I this night
(Fierce with untutor'd heat) did vow to write:
But happy those, who undertake no more
Than what their stock of rage hath rul'd before!
It is a Poet's sinne, that doth excell
In love, or wine, not to resolve how well,
But strait how much to write; for then wee think
The vast tumultuous Sea is but our Ink;
The World, our Forest too; and that wee may
Beleeve each Tree, that in it growes, a Bay.
My Vow now kept, I'm loth (my Lord) to doe
Wrong to your justice, and your mercy too;
The last, if you vouchsafe; you will excuse
A strong Religion here, though not a Muse.
To
