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To Endimion Porter.
HOw safe (Endimion) had I liv'd? how blest,
In all the silent privacies of rest?
How might I lengthen sleeps, had I beene wise
Unto my selfe, and never seene thine Eyes?
My Verse (unenvy'd then) had learn'd to move
A slow, meeke pace; like sober Hymns of love
By some noch'd-Brownist sung; that would indeere
His holy itch, to some chaste Midwives Eare:
The pleasure of ambition then had bin,
To me lost in the danger, and the sinne:
The Mirtle Sprig (that never can decay)
I had not knowne, nor Wreaths of living Bay:
In stead of these, and the wild Ivy Twine,
(Which our wise Fathers justly did assigne,
To him that in immortall Verse exceeds)
My Brow had worne, some homly Wreath of Weeds:
In all the silent privacies of rest?
How might I lengthen sleeps, had I beene wise
Unto my selfe, and never seene thine Eyes?
My Verse (unenvy'd then) had learn'd to move
A slow, meeke pace; like sober Hymns of love
By some noch'd-Brownist sung; that would indeere
His holy itch, to some chaste Midwives Eare:
The pleasure of ambition then had bin,
To me lost in the danger, and the sinne:
The Mirtle Sprig (that never can decay)
I had not knowne, nor Wreaths of living Bay:
In stead of these, and the wild Ivy Twine,
(Which our wise Fathers justly did assigne,
To him that in immortall Verse exceeds)
My Brow had worne, some homly Wreath of Weeds:
And
