The tenth muse lately sprung up in America or severall poems, compiled with great variety of vvit 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 epitomie of the four monarchies, viz. The Assyrian, Persian, Grecian, Roman. Also a dialogue between Old England and New, concerning the late troubles. With divers other pleasant and serious poems. By a gentlewoman in those parts.

Aire.

COntent (quoth Aire) to speake the last of you, Though not through ignorance, first was my due, I doe suppose, you'l yeeld without controle; I am the breath of every living soul.

Mortalls, what one of you, that loves not me, Aboundantly more then my sisters three? And though you love Fire, Earth, and VVater wel; Yet Aire, beyond all these ye know t'excell. I aske the man condemn'd, that's near his death: How gladly should his gold purchase his breath, And all the wealth, that ever earth did give, How freely should it go, so he might live. No world, thy witching trash, were all but vain. If my pure Aire, thy sonnes did not sustain. The famisht, thirsty man, that craves supply: His moveing reason is, give least I dye. So loath he is to go, though nature's spent, To bid a due, to his dear Element. Nay, what are words, which doe reveale the mind? Speak, who, or what they will, they are but wind. Your Drums, your Trumpets, and your Organs sound, VVhat is't? but forced Aire which must rebound, And such are Ecchoes, and report o'th gun VVhich tells afar, th' exployt which he hath done. Your songs and pleasant tunes, they are the same, And so's the notes which Nightingales do frame. Ye forging Smiths, if Bellowes once were gone; Your red hot work, more coldly would go on. Ye Mariners, tis I that fill your Sailes, And speed you to your Port, with wished gales. VVhen burning heat, doth cause you faint, I coole, And when I smile, your Ocean's like a Poole. I ripe the corne, I turne the grinding mill; And with my selfe, I every vacuum fill. The ruddy sweet sanguine, is like to Aire, And youth, and spring, sages to me compare.

My moist hot nature, is so purely thinne, No place so subtilly made, but I get in. I grow more pure and pure, as I mount higher, And when I'm throughly rarifi'd, turn fire. So when I am condens'd, I turne to water; VVhich may be done, by holding down my vapour. Thus I another body can assume, And in a trice, my own nature resume. Some for this cause (of late) have been so bold, Me for no Element, longer to hold. Let such suspend their thoughts, and silent be; For all Philosophers make one of me. And what those Sages, did, or spake, or writ, Is more authentick then their moderne wit. Next, of my Fowles such multitudes there are; Earths Beasts, and VVaters Fish, scarce can compare. The Ostrich with her plumes, th'Eagle with her eyne; The Phoenix too (if any be) are mine; The Stork, the Crane, the Partrich, and the Phesant; The Pye, the Jay, the Larke, a prey to th' Peasant. VVith thousands moe, which now I may omit; VVithout impeachment, to my tale or wit. As my fresh Aire preserves, all things in life; So when 'ts corrupt, mortality is rife. Then Feavours, Purples, Pox, and Pestilence; VVith divers more, worke deadly consequence. VVhereof such multitudes have dy'd and fled, The living, scarce had power, to bury dead. Yea so contagious, Countries have me known; That birds have not scap'd death, as they have flown, Of murrain, Cattle numberlesse did fall. Men fear'd destruction epidemicall.

Then of my tempests, felt at Sea and Land, Which neither ships nor houses could withstand. What woeful wracks I've made, may wel appear, If nought was known, but that before Algire. Where famous Charles the fift, more losse sustain'd, Then in his long hot wars, which Millain gain'd. How many rich fraught vessells, have I split? Some upon sands, some upon rocks have hit. Some have I forc'd, to gaine an unknown shoare; Some overwelm'd with waves, and seen no more. Again, what tempests, and what hericanoes Knowes VVestern Isles, Christophers, Barbadoes; VVhere neither houses, trees, nor plants, I spare; But some fall down, and some flye up with aire. Earth-quaks so hurtful and so fear'd of all, Imprisoned I, am the original. Then what prodigious sights, sometimes I show: As battells pitcht ith' Aire (as Countries know;) Their joyning, fighting, forcing, and retreat; That earth appeares in heaven, oh wonder great! Sometimes strange flaming swords, and blazing stars, Portentious signes, of Famines, Plagues and VVars. VVhich makes the mighty Monarchs fear their Fates, By death, or great mutations of their States. I have said lesse, then did my sisters three; But what's their worth, or force, but more's in me. To adde to all I've said, was my intent, But dare not go, beyond my Element.