i2o Anne Bradji reefs Works.
Ye forging Smiths, if bellows once were gone [20]
Your red hot work more coldly would go on.
Ye Mariners, tis I that fill 3^our fails,
And fpeed you to your port with wifhed gales.
When burning heat doth caufe you faint, 1 cool,
And when I fmile, your ocean's like a pool.
I help to ripe the corn, I turn the mill,^
And with my felf I every Vacuum fill.
The ruddy fweet fanguine is like to air.
And youth and fpring. Sages to me compare.
My moift hot nature is fo purely thin,
No place fo fubtilly made, but I get in.
I grow more pure and pure as I mount higher,
And when I'm throughly rarin'd turn fire :
So when I am condens'd, I turn to water.
Which may be done by holding down my vapour.
Thus I another bod}^ can affume.
And in a trice my own nature refume.
Some for this caufe of late have been fo bold
Me for no Element longer to hold,
Let fuch fufpend their thoughts, and filent be.
For all Philofophers make one of me:
And what thofe Sages either '^ fpake or writ
Is more authentick then our^ modern wit.
Next of my fowles fuch multitudes there are.
Earths beafts and waters fiili fcarce can compare.
Th'Oftrich with her plumes, th'Eagle with her eyn
The Phsenix too (if any be) are mine,
j I ripe the corne, I turne the grinding mill ; k Sages did, or. I their.
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