| A WARD, and still in bonds, one day | |
| I stole abroad, | |
| It was high-spring, and all the way | |
| Primros'd, and hung with shade; | |
| Yet, was it frost within, | 5 |
| And surly winds | |
| Blasted my infant buds, and sinne | |
| Like Clouds ecclips'd my mind. | |
| |
| Storm'd thus; I straight perceiv'd my spring | |
| Meere stage, and show, | 10 |
| My walke a monstrous, mountain'd thing | |
| Rough-cast with Rocks, and snow; | |
| And as a Pilgrims Eye | |
| Far from reliefe, | |
| Measures the melancholy skye | 15 |
| Then drops, and rains for griefe, | |
| |
| So sigh'd I upwards still, at last | |
| 'Twixt steps, and falls | |
| I reach'd the pinacle, where plac'd | |
| I found a paire of scales, | 20 |
| I tooke them up and layd | |
| In th'one late paines, | |
| The other smoake, and pleasures weigh'd | |
| But prov'd the heavier graines; | |
| |
| With that, some cryed, Away; straight I | 25 |
| Obey'd, and led | |
| Full East, a faire, fresh field could spy, | |
| Some call'd it, Jacobs Bed; | |
| A Virgin-soile, which no | |
| Rude feet ere trod, | 30 |
| Where (since he stept there,) only go | |
| Prophets, and friends of God. | |
| |
| Here, I repos'd; but scarse well set, | |
| A grove descryed | |
| Of stately height, whose branches met | 35 |
| And mixt on every side; | |
| I entred, and once in | |
| (Amaz'd to see't,) | |
| Found all was chang'd, and a new spring | |
| Did all my senses greet; | 40 |
| |
| The unthrift Sunne shot vitall gold | |
| A thousand peeces, | |
| And heaven its azure did unfold | |
| Checqur'd with snowie fleeces, | |
| The aire was all in spice | 45 |
| And every bush | |
| A garland wore; Thus fed my Eyes | |
| But all the Eare lay hush. | |
| |
| Only a little Fountain lent | |
| Some use for Eares, | 50 |
| And on the dumbe shades language spent | |
| The Musick of her teares; | |
| I drew her neere, and found | |
| The Cisterne full | |
| Of divers stones, some bright, and round, | 55 |
| Others ill-shap'd, and dull. | |
| |
| The first (pray marke,) as quick as light | |
| Danc'd through the floud, | |
| But, th'last more heavy then the night | |
| Nail'd to the Center stood; | 60 |
| I wonder'd much, but tyr'd | |
| At last with thought, | |
| My restless Eye that still desir'd | |
| As strange an object brought; | |
| |
| It was a banke of flowers, where I descried | 65 |
| (Though 'twas mid-day,) | |
| Some fast asleepe, others broad-eyed | |
| And taking in the Ray, | |
| Here musing long, I heard | |
| A rushing wind | 70 |
| Which still increas'd, but whence it stirr'd | |
| No where I could not find; | |
| |
| I turn'd me round, and to each shade | |
| Dispatch'd an Eye, | |
| To see, if any leafe had made | 75 |
| Least motion, or Reply, | |
| But while I listning sought | |
| My mind to ease | |
| By knowing, where 'twas, or where not, | |
| It whisper'd; Where I please. | 80 |
| |
| Lord, then said I, On me one breath, | |
| And let me dye before my death! | |
| |
