Classic Poem

— T' IS he, deserv's a voice
More cleare then Whitest Fame, with whose compare
Musicks of Birds & strings harsh brawlings are
A voice of tunefull spheares to marr the chyme
Vndoe the danse of Motion, Place, & Tyme;
Rebate keene whirlwinds edge, with whisp'ring gale;
Charme doune the Sea-mayds & Lure them: pr ae vaile
To calme Seas, Furies; Fates, to stand, & pawse,
Then fall & breake their Adamantine Lawes
Make graue old Saturne light yong passion feele
And call each Spinstring Angell from hir wheel
Start from their sockets starrs; glad Venus flies
ffrom Mars embrace; Hermes beslumberd Lies.
Sweats & in envie fresh Apollo stopp's
Till in forgetfull rage his Lute he dropps!
Strike then some high, some conqu'ring strayns advance,
Vnhindge the Orbe's, & make the cold Beare danse
A Sinkapase: or madding, headlong roule
Through waues forbidden to the Southern Pole.
O for a powre to vnsynode all the Sett
Of Deÿèeties, to heare sphear-musique, mett!.