Downe stormy Passions, downe: no more
Let your rude Waves invade the Shoare
Where blushing Reason sitts, and hides
Hir from the fury of your Tides.
Fitt only 'tis where you beare sway
That Fooles or Franticks doe obay.
Since Judgment, if it not resists,
Will loose it self in your blind Mists.

Fall easy Patience, fall like Rest
Whose soft Spells charme a troubled breast:
And where those Rebells you espy,
O in your silken Cordage ty
Their malice up! So shall I raise
Altars to thank your Pow'r, and praise
The soveraigne Vertue of your Balme,
Which cures a Tempest by a Calme.