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Hough All the joyes I had fleed hence with
Unkind! yet are my TEARES still true to n
I'am wedded ore again since thou art gone;
Nor couldst thou, cruell, leave me quite alone.
ALEXIS' widdow now is sorrow's wife.
With him shall I weep out my weary life.
Wellcome, my sad sweet Mate! Now have I
At last a constant love that leaves me not.
Firm he, as thou art false, Nor need my cryes
Thus vex the earth & teare the skyes.
For him, alas, n'ere shall I need to be
Troublesom to the world, thus, as for thee.
For thee I talk to trees; with silent groves
Expostulate my woes & much-wrong'd loves.
Hills & relentlesse rockes, or if there be
Things that in hardnesse more allude to thee;
To these I talk in teares, & tell my pain;
And answer too for them in teares again.
How oft have I wept out the weary sun!
My watry hour-glasse hath old time outrunne.
O'I am learned grown, Poor love & I
Have study'd over all astrology.

I'am perfect in heavn's state, with every starr
My skillfull greife is grown familiar.
Rise, fairest of those fires; whate're thou be
Whose rosy beam shall point my sun to me.
Such as the sacred light that erst did bring
The EASTERN princes to their infant king.
O rise, pure lamp! & lend thy golden ray
That weary love at last may find his way.



Ich, churlish LAND! that hid'st so long in thee,

alas, by mee.

Needs must my miseryes owe that man a spite
Who e're he be was the first wandring knight.
O had he nere been at that cruell [c]ost
NATURE'S virginity had nere been lost.
Seas had not bin rebuk't by sawcy oares
But ly'n lock't up safe in their sacred shores.
Men had not spurn'd at mountaines;
With rocks; nor bold hands struck the world's strong barres.
Nor lost in too larg bounds, our little Rome
Full sweetly with it selfe had dwell't at home.
My poor ALEXIS, then in peaceful life,

nor made warrs

Had under some low roofe lov'd his plain wife
But now, ah me, from where he has no foes
He flyes; & into willfull exile goes.
Cruell return. Or tell the reason why
Thy dearest parents have deserv'd to dy.
And I, what is my crime I cannot tell,
Unlesse it be a crime to'have lov'd too well.
If Heates of holyer love & high desire
Make bigge thy fair brest with immortall fire,
What needes my virgin lord fly thus from me,
Who only wish his virgin wife to be?
Wittnesse, chast heavns! no happyer vowes I know
Then to a virgin GRAVE untouch't to goe.
Love's truest Knott by venus is not ty'd;
Nor doe embraces onely make a bride.
The QUEEN of angels, (and men chast as You)
CECILIA, Glory of her name & blood

With happy gain her maiden vowes made good.
The lusty bridegroom made approach: young man
Take heed (said she) take heed, VALERIAN!

My bosome's guard, a SPIRIT great & strong,
Stands arm'd, to sheild me from all wanton wrong.
My Chastity is sacred; & my sleep
Wakefull, her dear vowes undefil'd to keep.

PALLAS beares armes, forsooth, and should there be
No fortresse built for true VIRGINITY?
No gaping gorgon, this. None, like the rest
Of your learn'd lyes. Here you'l find no such jest.
I'am yours, O were my God, my CHRIST SO too,
I'd know no name of love on earth but you.
He yeilds, and straight Baptis'd, obtains the grace
To gaze on the fair souldier's glorious face.
Both mixt at last their blood in one rich bed
Of rosy MARTYRDOME, twice Married.

O burn our hymen bright in such high Flame.
Thy torch, terrestriall love, have here no name.
How sweet the mutuall yoke of man & wife,
When holy fires maintain love's Heavnly life!
But I, (so help me heavn my hopes to see)
When thousand sought my love, lov'd none but Thee.
Still, as their vain teares my firm vowes did try,
ALEXIS, he alone is mine (said I)

Half true, alas, half false, proves that poor line.
ALEXIS is alone; But is not mine.

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O roofes of gold o're riotous tables shining

No Whole dayes & suns devour'd with endlesse dining;

No sailes of tyrian sylk proud pavements sweeping;
Nor ivory couches costlyer slumbers keeping;
False lights of flairing gemmes; tumultuous joyes;
Halls full of flattering men & fris[k]ing boyes;
Whate're false showes of short & slippery good
Mix the mad sons of men in mutuall blood.
But WALKES & unshorn woods; and soules, just so
Unforc't & genuine; but not shady tho.
Our lodgings hard & homely as our fare.

That chast & cheap, as the few clothes we weare.
Those, course & negligent, As the naturall lockes
Of these loose groves, rough as th'unpolish't rockes.
A hasty Portion of præscribed sleep;
Obedient slumbers; that can wake & weep,
And sing, [&] sigh, & work, and sleep again;
Still rowling à round spear of still-returning pain.
Hands full of harty labours; doe much, that more they may,
And work for work, not wages; let to morrow's

New drops, wash off the sweat of this daye's sorrows.
A long & dayly-d[y]ing life, which breaths

A respiration of reviving deaths.

But neither are there those ignoble stings
That nip the bosome of the world's best things,

And lash Earth-laboring souls.

No cruell guard of diligent cares, that keep
Crown'd woes awake; as things too wise for sleep.
But reverent discipline, & religious fear,
And soft obedience, find sweet biding here;
Silence, & sacred rest; peace, & pure joyes;
Kind loves keep house, ly close, make no noise,
And room enough for Monarchs, while none swells
Beyond the kingdomes of contentfull Cells.
The self-remembring SOUL sweetly recovers
Her kindred with the starrs; not basely hovers
Below; But meditates her immortall way
Home to the originall sourse of LIGHT & intellectuall Day.

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