Y'ave heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round:
Each virgin like a spring,
With honeysuckles crown'd.
But now we see none here
Whose silvery feet did tread,
And with dishevell'd hair
Adorn'd this smoother mead.
Like unthrifts, having spent
Your stock and needy grown,
Y'are left here to lament
Your poor estates, alone.
Round, a rustic dance.
275. CROSSES.
Though good things answer many good intents,
Crosses do still bring forth the best events.
276. MISERIES.
Though hourly comforts from the gods we see,
No life is yet life-proof from misery.
278. TO HIS HOUSEHOLD GODS.
Rise, household gods, and let us go;
But whither I myself not know.
First, let us dwell on rudest seas;
Next, with severest savages;
Last, let us make our best abode
Where human foot as yet ne'er trod:
Search worlds of ice, and rather there
Dwell than in loathed Devonshire.