Wit's Pilgrimage - Part 81
If the Egyptian , and the Troglodite
Ouer whose Heads the Sunne directly stands
But one meere Moment daily, in his height
Do hardly scape quite burning by his Brands,
How then should I (bright- Faire! ) not quite bee brent
With those bright Beames, sholt fro, those Sunnes thine Eyes,
Sith still they are to me directly sent
As from my Zenith , in thy Beauties Skies?
Of with those Raies exhale from Mercies Seas
Some Dropps of Grace , & showre the downe on me,
To coole the firie heate of my Disease,
That so my sore, and salue maie come from Thee:
If not, yet shall those Cloude-dissoluing Beames,
Melt my Care Clouded Eies to cooling Streames.
Ouer whose Heads the Sunne directly stands
But one meere Moment daily, in his height
Do hardly scape quite burning by his Brands,
How then should I (bright- Faire! ) not quite bee brent
With those bright Beames, sholt fro, those Sunnes thine Eyes,
Sith still they are to me directly sent
As from my Zenith , in thy Beauties Skies?
Of with those Raies exhale from Mercies Seas
Some Dropps of Grace , & showre the downe on me,
To coole the firie heate of my Disease,
That so my sore, and salue maie come from Thee:
If not, yet shall those Cloude-dissoluing Beames,
Melt my Care Clouded Eies to cooling Streames.
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