A Sigh to St Monica's Teares.
Ye tender soft-par'd'mother springs,
That trickling steale from those new op'ning eyes,
Where Monica, loves siren, sings,
To inchant her Austin into Paradise;
Kind falacys, that have so well outdone
The logick of your over subtill son:
That trickling steale from those new op'ning eyes,
Where Monica, loves siren, sings,
To inchant her Austin into Paradise;
Kind falacys, that have so well outdone
The logick of your over subtill son:
If such fertill parent showres
Revivd in him the eternall spring of blisse;
If those seede pearle-bloomes of yours
Brought him such harvest home of happines;
Oh, drop my baren soule one fruitfull teare,
Or let it gleane some pregnant sorrow there.
Revivd in him the eternall spring of blisse;
If those seede pearle-bloomes of yours
Brought him such harvest home of happines;
Oh, drop my baren soule one fruitfull teare,
Or let it gleane some pregnant sorrow there.
Then earthly parents all adieu,
Now onely Heaven must be of kin to me;
I'le be conceavd and borne anew,
And onely teares shall be my pedigree.
Thrice happy generation! to be stiled,
Of Austin's mother perles the adopted child.
Now onely Heaven must be of kin to me;
I'le be conceavd and borne anew,
And onely teares shall be my pedigree.
Thrice happy generation! to be stiled,
Of Austin's mother perles the adopted child.