Poems, with a maske by Thomas Carew ... ; the songs were set in musick by Mr. Henry Lawes ...

To Saxham

THough frost, and snow, lock'd from mine eyes That beauty which without dore lyes, The gardens, orchards, walks, that so I might not all thy pleasures know; Yet (Saxham) thou within thy gate, Art of thy self so delicate, So full of native sweets, that bless Thy roof with inward happiness;

As neither from, nor to thy store, Winter takes ought, or Spring adds more. The cold and frozen ayr had sterv'd Much poore, if not by thee preferv'd; Whose prayers have made thy Table blest With plenty, far above the rest. The season hardly did afford Corse cates unto thy neighbours board, Yet thou hadst dainties, as the sky Had only been thy Vokirie; Or else the birds, fearing the snow Might to another deluge grow, The Pheasant, Partridge, and the Lark, Flew to thy house, as to the Ark. The willing Oxe, of himself came Home to the slaughter, with the Lamb, And every beast did thither bring Himself, to be an offering. The scalie herd, more pleasure took Bath'd in thy dish, than in the brook. Water, Earth, Ayre, did all conspire, To pay their tributes to thy fire, Whose cherishing flames themselves divide Through every room, where they deride The night, and cold abroad; whilst they Like Suns within, keep endlesse day.

Those chearfull beams send forth their light, To all that wander in the night, And seem to be cken from aloof, The weary Pilgrim to thy roof; Where it refresh't, he will away, He's fairly welcome, or if stay Far more, which he shall hearty find, Both from the master, and the Hind. The stranger's welcome, each man there Stamp'd on his chearfull brow, doth wear; Nor doth this welcome, or his cheer Grow lesse, cause he stayes longer here There's none observes (much less repines) How often this man sups or dines. Thou hast no Porter at the door T'examin, or keep back the poor; Nor locks, nor bolts; thy gates have been Made only to let strangers in; Untaught to shut, they doe not fear To stand wide open all the year; Careless who enters, for they know, Thou never didst deserve a foe; And as for theeves, thy bounti's such, They cannot steal, thou giv'st so much.