EARL OF STIRLING

That golden shower in which he did repose

One dewy drop it stains

Which thy Aurora rains

Upon the rural plains, When from thy bed she passionately goes.

Then, waken'd with the music of the merles, She not remembers Memnon when she mourns That faithful flame which in her bosom burns From crystal conduits throws those liquid pearls : Sad from thy sight so soon to be removed, She so her grief delates. O favour'd by the fates Above the happiest states, Who art of one so worthy well-beloved !

��PHINEAS FLETCHER 222. A Litany

OP, drop, slow tears, And bathe those beauteous feet Which brought from Heaven

The news and Prince of Peace : Cease not, wet eyes,

His mercy to entreat; To cry for vengeance

Sin doth never cease. In your deep floods

Drown all my faults and fears; Nor let His eye

See sin, but through my tears.

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