66
COWLEY'S POEMS.
Men, out of wisdom; women, out of pride,
The pleasant thefts of love do hide:
That may secure thee; but thou 'ast yet from me
A more infallible security;
For there's no danger I should tell
The joys which are to me unspeakable.
The pleasant thefts of love do hide:
That may secure thee; but thou 'ast yet from me
A more infallible security;
For there's no danger I should tell
The joys which are to me unspeakable.
SLEEP.
In vain, thou drowsy God! I thee invoke;
For thou, who dost from fumes arise—
Thou, who man's soul dost overshade
With a thick cloud by vapours made—
Canst have no power to shut his eyes,
Or passage of his spirits to choke,
Whose flame's so pure that it sends up no smoke.
For thou, who dost from fumes arise—
Thou, who man's soul dost overshade
With a thick cloud by vapours made—
Canst have no power to shut his eyes,
Or passage of his spirits to choke,
Whose flame's so pure that it sends up no smoke.
Yet how do tears but from some vapours rise?
Tears, that bewinter all my year?
The fate of Egypt I sustain,
And never feel the dew of rain,
From clouds which in the head appear;
But all my too much moisture owe
To overflowings of the heart below.
Tears, that bewinter all my year?
The fate of Egypt I sustain,
And never feel the dew of rain,
From clouds which in the head appear;
But all my too much moisture owe
To overflowings of the heart below.
Thou, who dost men (as nights to colours do)
Bring all to an equality!
Bring all to an equality!
