VERSES,
Lately written by THOMAS
EARLE OF STRAFFORD.
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(I.)
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GOe, Empty Joyes,
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With all your noyse,
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And leave me here alone,
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In sweet sad silence to bemoane
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Your vaine and fleet delight,
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Whose danger none can see aright,
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Whilest your false splendor dimmes his sight.
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(II.)
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Goe and insnare
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With your false ware,
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Some other easie Wight,
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And cheat him with your flattering Light:
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Raine on his head a shower
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Of Honours, favour, wealth, and power;
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Then snatch it from him in an houre.
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(III.)
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Fill his big minde
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With gallant winde
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Of Insolent applause:
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Let him not feare all-curbing Lawes,
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Nor King nor peoples frowne;
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But dreame of something like a Crowne,
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And climing towards it, tumble downe.
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(IV.)
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Let him appeare
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In his bright Sphere,
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Like Scynthia in her pride,
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With star-like troups on every side;
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Such for their number and their light,
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As may at last orewhelme him quite,
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And blend us both in one dead night.
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(V.)
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Welcome sad Night,
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Griefes sole delight,
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Your mourning best agrees
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With Honours funerall Obsequies.
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In Thetis lap he lyes,
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Mantled with soft securities,
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Whose too much Sun-shine blinds his eyes.
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(VI.)
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Was he too bold,
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That needs would hold
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With curbing raines, the day,
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And make Sols fiery Steeds obay?
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Then sure as rash was I,
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Who with ambitious wings did flye
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In Charles his waine too loftily.
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(VII.)
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I fall, I fall;
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Whom shall I call?
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Alas, can he be heard,
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Who now is neither lov'd nor fear'd?
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You, who were wont to kisse the ground,
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Where e're my honour'd steps were found,
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Come catch me at my last rebound.
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(VIII.)
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How each admires
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Heav'ns twinkling fires,
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When from their glorious seat
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Their influence gives life and heat.
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But O! how few there ar',
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(Though danger from that act be far)
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Will stoop and catch a falling star.
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(IX.)
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Now 'tis too late
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To imitate
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Those Lights, whose pallidnesse
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Argues no inward guiltinesse:
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Their course one way is bent.
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The reason is, there's no dissent
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In Heavens high Court of Parliament.
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