A Spiritual Hymn, Sonnets
Fancies Farewell.
SON 1.
TOo long my Muse (ah) thou too long didst toile,
An Aethiopian striving to make white:
…ost seede on surrowes of a fruitlesse foile,
Which doth thy trauells, but with Tares acquite.
…ence-foorth fare-well, all counterfeit delyte,
…linde Dwarfling, J disclaime thy deitie,
…y Pen, thy Trophees never more shall write:
Nor after shall thine arts enveigle mee.
With sacred straines, reaching a higher key,
My Thoughts aboue thy fictions farre aspire:
Mounted on wings of immortalitie,
… feele my brest warmde with a wountlesse fire.
My Muse a strange Enthusiasme inspires,
And peece and peece thy flamme, in smoake expires.
SON. 2.
HOures mis-employ'd, evanisht as a dreame,
My lapse from vertue, and recourse to Ill,
I should, I would, J dare not say, I will
By due repentance and remorse redeeme.
Loves false delight, and beauties blazing beame
Too long benighted hauehave my dazled Eyes,
By youth mis-led, I too too much did prise
Deceaving shads, toyes worthy no esteame.
Plungde in the tyde of that impetuous streame,
Where fynest wits hauehave frequent naufrage made,
O heavenly Pilote, I implore thine aide,
Rescue my soule, in danger most extreame:
Conduct mee to thy Mercyes Port, J pray,
Save Lord, Oh, let mee not bee cast away.
SONNET 3.
LOoke home, my Soule, deferre not to repent,
Time ever runnes: in floath, great dangers ly:
Impostumde soares the patient most torment,
While wounds are greene, the salve with speed apply
Workes once adjourn'd, good successe seldome try,
Delay's attended still with discontent:
Thrise happie hee, takes time ere time slyde by
And doth by fore-sight after-wit prevent.
Looke on thy labours: timouslie lament,
Trees are hewde down vnwholsome fruits bring foorth
Thy younger yeares, youthes sweet Aprile mispent
Strive to redeeme, with works of greater worth.
Looke home J say, make haste: O shunne delay,
Hoyse sayle, while tyde doth last: Time posts away
FINIS.
End of the text · Robert Boyd, A Spiritual Hymn (1628)