Clievelandi Vindiciæ, or, Clieveland's genuine poems, orations, epistles, &c. purged from the many false and spurious ones which had usurped his name, and from innumerable errours and corruptions in the true copies : to which are added many never printed before, with an account of the author's life.

Vpon Phillis walking in a Morni•••• before Sun-rising.

THe sluggish Morn as yet undrest, My Phillis brake from out her East, As if she'd made a match to run With Venus, usher to the Sun. The Trees, like Yeomen of the Guard (Serving her more for Pomp than Ward) Rank'd on each side, with Loyal Duty, Weav'd Branches to inclose her Beauty. The Plants, whose Luxury was lopp'd, Or Age with Crutches underpropp'd, (Whose wooden Carkases were grown To be but Coffins of their own) Revive, and at her general Dole Each receives his Ancient Soul. The winged Choristers began To chirp their Mattins, and the Fan Of whistling Winds like Organs play'd, Until their Voluntaries made The weakened Earth in Odors rise To be her Morning Sacrifice. The Flowers call'd out of their Beds, Start and raise up their drowsie Heads;

And he that for their colour seeks May see it vaulting to her Cheeks: Where Roses mix; no Civil War Divides her York and Lancaster. The Marygold (whose Courtier's face Ecchoes the Sun, and doth unlace Her at his rise, at his full stop Packs and shuts up her gawdy Shop) Mist••kes her Cue, and doth display: Thus Phillis antedates the day. These Miracles had cramp'd the Sun, Who fearing that his Kingdom's won, Powders with Light his frizled Locks To see what Saint his Lustre mocks. The trembling Leaves through which he play'd, Dappling the Walk with light and shade, Like Lattice-windows give the Spye Room but to peep with half an eye; L••st her full Orb his sight should dim, And bid us all good night in him; Till she should spend a gentle ray To force us a new fashion'd day. But what religious Palsie's this, Which makes the Bows devest their bliss, And that they might her footstep, straw, Drop their Leaves with shivering awe?

Phillis perceiv'd, and (lest her stay Should wed October unto May, And as her Beauty caus'd a Spring, Devotion might an Autumn bring) Withdrew her Beams, yet made no Night, But left the Sun her Curate-light.