39^ An?ie B radji reef s Works.
(And if the whirling of thy wheels don't drown'd)
The wofiil accents of my doleful found,
If in thy fwift Carrier thou canfl; make ftay,
I crave this boon, this Errand by the way,
Commend me to the man more lov'd then life,
Shew him the forrows of his widdowed wife;
My dumpifh thoughts, my groans, my brakifh tears
My fobs, my longing hopes, my doubting fears.
And if he love, how can he there abide?
My Intereft's more then all the world befide.
He that can tell the ftarrs or Ocean fand, [242]
Or all the grafs that in the Meads do Hand,
The leaves in th' woods, the hail or drops of rain.
Or in a corn-field number every grain.
Or every mote that in the fun-fhine hops,
May count my lighs, and number all my drops :
Tell him, the countlefs fheps that thou doft trace,
That once a day, thy Spoufe thou mayft imbrace;
And when thou canll not treat by loving mouth,
Thy rayes afar, falute her from the fouth.
But for one moneth I fee no day (poor foul)
Like thofe far fcituate under the pole.
Which day by day long wait for thy arife,
O how they joy when thou doft light the skyes.
O Phoebus^ hadft thou but thus long from thine
Reftrain'd the beams of thy beloved fhine,
At thy return, if io thou could'ft or durft
Behold a Chaos blacker then the firft.
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