On the 1. of January 1657

Th'Eternal Centre of my life and me,
Who when I was not, gave me room to be,
Hath since (my time preserving in his hands)
By moments numbred out the precious sand,
Till it is swell'd to six and twenty years,
Checquer'd by Providence with smiles and tears.
I have observ'd how vain all glories are,
The change of Empire, and the chance of War:
Seen Faction with its native venom burst,
And Treason struck, by what it self had nurs'd:
Seen useless Crimes, whose Owners but made way
For future Candidates to wear the Bay.
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