Several poems compiled with great variety of wit and learning, full of delight wherein especially is contained a compleat discourse, and description of the four elements, constitutions, ages of man, seasons of the year, together with an exact epitome of the three by a gentlewoman in New-England.
Bradstreet, Anne, 1612?-1672.
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Ʋpon the Author; by a known Friend.
NOw I believe Tradition, which doth call
The Muses, Virtues, Graces, Females all;
Only they are not nine, eleven nor three;
Our Auth' r•ss proves them but one unity.
Mankind take up some blushes on the score;
Monopolize perfection no more;
In your own Arts, confess your selves out-done,
The Moon hath totally eclips'd the Sun
Not with her sable Mantle muffl•ng him,
But her bright silver makes his gol• lo•k aim:
Just as his beams force our pa• lamps to wi•k,
And earthly Fires, within their ashes shrink.