Olor Iscanus. A collection of some select poems, and translations,
Vaughan, Henry, 1622-1695.
Page 45
Metrum 2.
O In what haste with Clouds and Night
Ecclyps'd, and having lost her light,
The dull Soule whom distraction rends
Into outward Darkness tends!
How often (by these mists made blind,)
Have earthly cares opprest the mind!
This Soule sometimes wont to survey
The spangled Zodiacks sine way
Saw th'early Sun in Roses drest
With the Coole Moons unstable Crest,
And whatsoever wanton Star
In various Courses neer or far
Pierc'd through the orbs, he cou'd full well
Track all her Journey, and would tell
Her Mansions, turnings, Rise and fall,
By Curious Calculation all.
Of sudden winds the hidden Cause,
And why the Calm Seas quiet face
With Impetuous waves is Curld,
What spirit wheeles th'harmonious world,
Or why a Star dropt in the West
Is seen to rise again by East,
Who gives the warm Spring temp'rate houres
Decking the Earth with spicie flowres,
Or how it Comes (for mans recruit)
That Autumne yeelds both Grape and fruit,
With many other Secrets, he
Could shew the Cause and Mysterie,
But now that light is almost out,
And the brave Soule lyes Chain'd about
With outward Cares, whose pensive weight
Sinks down her Eyes from their first height,
And clean Contrary to her birth
Poares on this vile and foolish Earth.
