Short Poems | PoetryNook

To Sir Robert Bell

To ring out thy great frame, if I had skill,
The E'cho thereof should our Iland fill
So consonant's thy vertue to thy wit,
And so thy outward feature graceth it,
That my Muse may one sillable adde well
Unto thy Surname, and call thee Le-bell.

To Sir Dru Drury

As did love wounded Echo dote upon
The beautiful Narcissus , that lov'd none;
So doth my Muse affect your worthy parts
Applauded every where, by tongues and hearts.
And though I in your praise come short of many
Yet may my love to you ranke me with any.

To Sir Robert Gaudy

First, if I might safely crave this worlds pelfe;
To be belov'd next would I wish my selfe,
And rather then the first alone I'de chuse,
The second I would take and that refuse.
But you Sir Robert have fates blessing got,
Y'are wealthy, and belov'd, yea and what not
Nor ever were the Starres more just (I swear't)
With such great goods, to trust such good desert.

To Sir William Yelverton of Ruffham

Tis meete [a] Virgils Quill should write of thee,
Where such a concurrence of G[r]aces bee;
That were all Gentrie out of frame, we might
By thee take patterne, how to set it right.
Thy worth a brisker Muse then mine requires;
Then let them sing while mine alone admires.

To any to whom I write

Blame not my Muse, thou that dost find thy name
Not Marshal'd here, as thou wouldst have the same:
No blemish tis to thy repute: for (know it)
I act no Herald here (Sir) but a Poet.

L'Envoi

Songs of the woods, verses of those dear days
Now gone, of that dear region which the hand
Of smooth improvement almost hath erased,
Songs of the woods, from out my heart ye sprang!

Dismission

Dismiss us with thy blessing, Lord,
Help us to feed upon thyword;
All that has been amiss forgive,
And let thy truth within us live.
Tho' we are guilty, thou art good,
Cleanse all our sins in Jesus' blood;
Give ev'ry burden'd soul release,
And bid us all depart in peace.