Classic Poem

Cloris Complaint-July-25-1644

Doe not the Planets (how-somere
They wander) stil retain a proper Sphere?
And Seasons serve the year to bless?
Although the stormes and tempests are noe less?
Are not becalmed Seas more faier
Than if th'had never been Irregular
And shall Fond Man alone be sayd
To be of all thinges else Unpacefied.
Lions to Lions kinde, and Bears
Frendly to Such, soe Wolves partake o'th'Fears
With their pursued kin, the Fell-
Est Tyger can with his Assotiats dwell
And yet (as if Un-human'd) We
By noe means with each other can agree
Soe, (that we may Degenerate
From Nature's mandate), all our Passion's Hate
And wher a Mischief may befall
All Dispositian's turnd to Prodigall
Nor is ther for Compassion
Left any room (now'ts out of fashion).

Befrend me wind, lle trye the wave
Though some ther be must sink, yet some't may save
My Calender yes markes out Spring
Dis-Gust may shake, not blast the Blossoming
And therfore though I rov'd astray
'Tis reconciling Truth points now the way
In which I would be thought as farr
From Variation, as the Fixed'st starr
But with a Constant shining thence
Serve King and Cuntry by my Influence.