202
COWLEY'S POEMS.
[B. I.
"Kill him, and thou'rt secure; 't is only he
"That's boldly interpos'd 'twixt God and thee,
"As earth's low globe robs the high moon of light;
"When this eclipse is past, thy fate's all bright. 300
"Trust me, dear son! and credit what I tell;
"I've seen thy royal stars, and know them well.
"Hence, fears and dull delays! is not thy breast
"(Yes, Saul, it is) with noble thoughts possest?
"May they beget like acts!" With that she takes 305
One of her worst, her best-beloved snakes:
"Softly, dear worm! soft and unseen," said she,
"Into his bosom steal, and in it be
"My viceroy." At that word she took her flight,
And her loose shape dissolv'd into the night. 310
Th' infected king leapt from his bed amaz'd,
Scarce knew himself at first, but round him gaz'd;
And started back at piec'd-up shapes, which fear
And his distracted fancy painted there:
Terror froze up his hair, and on his face 315
Showers of cold sweat roll'd trembling down apace.
Then knocking with his angry hands his breast,
Earth with his feet, he cries, "Oh! 't is confest;
"I've been a pious fool, a woman-king;
"Wrong'd by a seer, a boy, every thing. 320
"Eight hundred years of death is not so deep,
"So unconcern'd, as my lethargick sleep.
"My patience even a sacrilege becomes,
"Disturbs the dead, and opes their sacred tombs.
"Ah! Benjamin, kind father! who for me 325
"This cursed world endur'st again to see!
"That's boldly interpos'd 'twixt God and thee,
"As earth's low globe robs the high moon of light;
"When this eclipse is past, thy fate's all bright. 300
"Trust me, dear son! and credit what I tell;
"I've seen thy royal stars, and know them well.
"Hence, fears and dull delays! is not thy breast
"(Yes, Saul, it is) with noble thoughts possest?
"May they beget like acts!" With that she takes 305
One of her worst, her best-beloved snakes:
"Softly, dear worm! soft and unseen," said she,
"Into his bosom steal, and in it be
"My viceroy." At that word she took her flight,
And her loose shape dissolv'd into the night. 310
Th' infected king leapt from his bed amaz'd,
Scarce knew himself at first, but round him gaz'd;
And started back at piec'd-up shapes, which fear
And his distracted fancy painted there:
Terror froze up his hair, and on his face 315
Showers of cold sweat roll'd trembling down apace.
Then knocking with his angry hands his breast,
Earth with his feet, he cries, "Oh! 't is confest;
"I've been a pious fool, a woman-king;
"Wrong'd by a seer, a boy, every thing. 320
"Eight hundred years of death is not so deep,
"So unconcern'd, as my lethargick sleep.
"My patience even a sacrilege becomes,
"Disturbs the dead, and opes their sacred tombs.
"Ah! Benjamin, kind father! who for me 325
"This cursed world endur'st again to see!
