Classic Poem

An invitation to my Askanius a true Trojan ifayth

My George were not the tie
Of Consanguinety
Of greater force than Reason
Or else the Lawe of Nature would impose
I should conclude you guilty of more Treason
Than e're Sir walter Earles nose
Could disclose
For envying us thus long the sight
Of your fayre Starr that shines soe bright

Surely 'tis not the West
You live in but the East
For soe such Rayes imply
You raysd to Guild that Climat and to bless
That side the world whilst we in darknes lie
And under Midnight of distress
Posess
Noe more of Day to guive us ease
Than's guiv'n to your owne Antipodes

But since the world 'round is
On hopes 'tis not amiss
To feed the fancies appetite
That certain revolutions heer and ther
May bring about a Day to chase the night
And soe illuminate our Sphere
From fear
Of any mist that may portend
Dainger through th'absence of a frend

Of this I'd have you sure
Each Plaister's not a cure
To evry wound, for Paris
Transports to Troy what He makes Gretians want
But you unmercifully take what rare is
Not only from our Troy-novant
But skant
Afford your owne territories
Matter to fill up their stories

Up then away and come
From western Ilium
Bring Hellen safe whose Eyes
Hath warmd suffitiently that watry coast
And let them favour now these Northern skies
For want of bewty that allmost
Are lost
For 'twer a Sin too long to stay
And soe deprive us of more Day
Let Thy julus come along
And burthen with a cry this song