Fancy, that Sleeping makes us reenjoy
Those objects which our wakeing sence employ,
My Thoughts with Cheating dreames did excercise
While the dull Charme prevaild upon my Eies
And me backe to an empty mansion Led —
Which I the day before had Visited —
And where I once with Sweete content did dwell
Where various Accedents my youth befell.
Me thoughte that having a vast circle run
Hither I came and where I first begun
To respire, love resolved to sigh away my Breath
Till all my sorrow found releife in death.
" What Power" Saide I " hath led me to This place
To See an emblime of my one disgrace:
These naked walls stript of all ornament
Did once a Thousand pleasant Things present
Here ware the Gardins, the well painted groves
Where Nimps and Sheapheards treated gentile love
The arras Storries did our fancies rayse —
To what The Poeits faind of Golden days,
When Innocence chast love and Constant truth
Shind in the converse of untanted Youth —
He thought to aemulate the Virtues of that age
But Soone those Actors left an empty stage.
The Nobler living guests that filld these roomes
Are now withdrawne and shut upe in their Tombs.
Even I whoe here did once in Splendor burne
Doe now a dimme expiring snuffe returne.
There twas' (I syghd) " ah me twas even their
Philocles breath perfumd and warmd the ayre
That circled me; which whilst he did respire
Carried into my soule Life light and fire,
But Since Pale death those dores of motion seald
My Joys Stand Still like streame with Ice Congeald
No day Those amorous whispers can restore
No wounded ayre can heale me any more —
Here kind instructions did I oft attend,
Here a true merror Stood a faithfull freind
That taught me how to pollish the rude masse
And dresse my Soule in that nere flattring glasse,
But Sorrow, age, death, rewin hath destroyd
Whatere I here or any where Enjoyd.
No tapstrey now decks This naked roome
But what comes from the Spiders dusty loome,
On the defield flowers no Carpitt [Lies] —
No other pleasant object greets our Eies.
The place no more affords glad sight or sound;
Nothing but dessolation now is found
In Sollitude and silence reigning here
Where soule and sence so often feasted were.
But new Inhabitants may restore
The grace and beauty This Place had before:
I a Polluted Pallace must remaine
No ornaments can decke me vp againe.
Those objects which our wakeing sence employ,
My Thoughts with Cheating dreames did excercise
While the dull Charme prevaild upon my Eies
And me backe to an empty mansion Led —
Which I the day before had Visited —
And where I once with Sweete content did dwell
Where various Accedents my youth befell.
Me thoughte that having a vast circle run
Hither I came and where I first begun
To respire, love resolved to sigh away my Breath
Till all my sorrow found releife in death.
" What Power" Saide I " hath led me to This place
To See an emblime of my one disgrace:
These naked walls stript of all ornament
Did once a Thousand pleasant Things present
Here ware the Gardins, the well painted groves
Where Nimps and Sheapheards treated gentile love
The arras Storries did our fancies rayse —
To what The Poeits faind of Golden days,
When Innocence chast love and Constant truth
Shind in the converse of untanted Youth —
He thought to aemulate the Virtues of that age
But Soone those Actors left an empty stage.
The Nobler living guests that filld these roomes
Are now withdrawne and shut upe in their Tombs.
Even I whoe here did once in Splendor burne
Doe now a dimme expiring snuffe returne.
There twas' (I syghd) " ah me twas even their
Philocles breath perfumd and warmd the ayre
That circled me; which whilst he did respire
Carried into my soule Life light and fire,
But Since Pale death those dores of motion seald
My Joys Stand Still like streame with Ice Congeald
No day Those amorous whispers can restore
No wounded ayre can heale me any more —
Here kind instructions did I oft attend,
Here a true merror Stood a faithfull freind
That taught me how to pollish the rude masse
And dresse my Soule in that nere flattring glasse,
But Sorrow, age, death, rewin hath destroyd
Whatere I here or any where Enjoyd.
No tapstrey now decks This naked roome
But what comes from the Spiders dusty loome,
On the defield flowers no Carpitt [Lies] —
No other pleasant object greets our Eies.
The place no more affords glad sight or sound;
Nothing but dessolation now is found
In Sollitude and silence reigning here
Where soule and sence so often feasted were.
But new Inhabitants may restore
The grace and beauty This Place had before:
I a Polluted Pallace must remaine
No ornaments can decke me vp againe.