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Then let the beams of that disperse
Last, draw the circles of this globe,
Painter, you're come,
gone; Now I have better thought thereon, This work I can perform alone; And give you reasons more than one.
Not that your art I do refuse,
hand will never hit, To draw a thing that cannot sit.
130 Bordering upon.
You could make shift to paint an eye,
No, to express this mind to sense,
Sweet Mind, then speak yourself, and say,
I call you, Muse, now make it true:
A mind so pure, so perfect fine,
There, high exalted in the sphere,
Whose notions when it will express
and music to the ear, As what it spoke, it planted there.
The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
But that a mind so rapt, so high,
Is it because it sees us dull,
Or hath she here, upon the ground,
Thrice happy house, that hast receipt
Not swelling, like the ocean proud,
Smooth, soft, and sweet, in all.a flood,
In thee, fair mansion, let it rest,
But such a mind, mak'st God thy guest. (A whole quaternion in the midst of this poem is lost, con
taining entirely the three next pieces of it, and all of the fourth (which in the order of the whole is the eighth) excepting the very end : which at the top of the next quater. nion goeth on thus :]
VIII. A FRAGMENT.
But for you, growing gentlemen, the happy branches of two so illustrious houses as these, wherefrom your honored mother is in both lines descended ; let me leave you this last legacy of counsel ; which, so soon as you arrive at years of mature understanding, open you, sir, that are the eldest, and read it to your brethren, for it will concern you all alike. Vowed by a faithful servant and client of your fanıily, with his latest breath expiring it.
B. I. TO KENELY, JOUX, GEORGE. 181 Boast not these titles of
your ancestors, Brave youths, they're their possessions, none
131 The three sons of Lady Digby.
When your own virtues equalled have their
names, 'Twill be but fair to lean upon their fames; For they are strong supporters; but, till then, The greatest are but growing gentlemen. It is a wretched thing to trust to reeds; Which all men do, that urge not their own deeds Up to their ancestors : the river's side By which you're planted, shows your fruit shall
bide. Hang all your rooms with one large pedigree; 'Tis virtue alone is true nobility : Which virtue from your father, ripe, will fall; Study illustrious him, and you have all.
The truly honored lady, The LADY VENETIA DIGBY ; who
liring yare me leave to call her so, being her 'ATTOOENIE, or, Relation to the Saints.'
Sera quidem tanto struitur medicina doloris. 'Twere time that I died too, now she is dead, Who was my muse, and life of all I did; The spirit that I wrote with, and conceived, All that was good, or great with me, she weaved, And set it forth: the rest were cobwebs fine, Spun out in name of some of the old Nine, To hang a window, or make dark the room, Till swept away, th’were cancelled with a broom! Nothing that could remain, or yet can stir A sorrow in me, fit to wait to her!