SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT
The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,
The ploughman from the sun his season takes;
But still the lover wonders what they are Who look for day before his mistress wakes.
Awake, awake' break thro' your veils of lawn'
Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn'
5/0 To a Mistress Dying
Lover. "T7"OUR beauty, ripe and calm and fresh
X As eastern summers are, Must now, forsaking time and flesh, Add light to some small star.
Philosopher. Whilst she yet lives, were stars decay 'd, Their light by hers relief might find, But Death will lead her to a shade
Where Love is cold and Beauty blind.
Lover. Lovers, whose piie^ts all poets are,
Think eveiy mistress, when she dies, Is changed at least into a star.
And who dares doubt the poets wise?
Philosopher. But ask not bodies doom'd to die
To what abode they go, Since Knowledge is but Sorrow's spy, It is not safe to know.
��Praise and Prayer
BRAISE is devotion fit for mighty minds, The difTring world's agreeing sacrifice , Where Heaven divided faiths united finds. But Prayer in various discord upward flies.
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