On The Death Of A Fair Infant, Dying Of A Cough
I.
O
fairest
flower
no
sooner
blown
but
blasted,
Soft
silken
Primrose
fading
timeless
lie,
Summers
chief
honour
if
thou
hadst
outlasted
Bleak
winters
force
that
made
thy
blossom
drie;
For
he
being
amorous
on
that
lovely
die
That
did
thy
cheek
envermeil,
thought
to
kiss
But
kill'd
alas,
and
then
bewayl'd
his
fatal
bliss.
II.
For
since
grim
Aquilo
his
charioter
By
boistrous
rape
th'
Athenian
damsel
got,
He
thought
it
toucht
his
Deitie
full
neer,
If
likewise
he
some
fair
one
wedded
not,
Thereby
to
wipe
away
th'
infamous
blot,
Of
long-uncoupled
bed,
and
childless
eld,
Which
'mongst
the
wanton
gods
a
foul
reproach
was
held.
III.
So
mounting
up
in
ycie-pearled
carr,
Through
middle
empire
of
the
freezing
aire
He
wanderd
long,
till
thee
he
spy'd
from
farr,
There
ended
was
his
quest,
there
ceast
his
care
Down
he
descended
from
his
Snow-soft
chaire,
But
all
unwares
with
his
cold-kind
embrace
Unhous'd
thy
Virgin
Soul
from
her
fair
hiding
place.
IV.
Yet
art
thou
not
inglorious
in
thy
fate;
For
so
Apollo,
with
unweeting
hand
Whilome
did
slay
his
dearly-loved
mate
Young
Hyacinth
born
on
Eurotas'
strand,
Young
Hyacinth
the
pride
of
Spartan
land;
But
then
transform'd
him
to
a
purple
flower
Alack
that
so
to
change
thee
winter
had
no
power.
V.
Yet
can
I
not
perswade
me
thou
art
dead
Or
that
thy
coarse
corrupts
in
earths
dark
wombe,
Or
that
thy
beauties
lie
in
wormie
bed,
Hid
from
the
world
in
a
low
delved
tombe;
Could
Heav'n
for
pittie
thee
so
strictly
doom?
O
no!
for
something
in
thy
face
did
shine
Above
mortalitie
that
shew'd
thou
wast
divine.
VI.
Resolve
me
then
oh
Soul
most
surely
blest
(If
so
it
be
that
thou
these
plaints
dost
hear)
Tell
me
bright
Spirit
where
e're
thou
hoverest
Whether
above
that
high
first-moving
Spheare
Or
in
the
Elisian
fields
(if
such
there
were.)
Oh
say
me
true
if
thou
wert
mortal
wight
And
why
from
us
so
quickly
thou
didst
take
thy
flight.
VII.
Wert
thou
some
Starr
which
from
the
ruin'd
roofe
Of
shak't
Olympus
by
mischance
didst
fall;
Which
carefull
Jove
in
natures
true
behoofe
Took
up,
and
in
fit
place
did
reinstall?
Or
did
of
late
earths
Sonnes
besiege
the
wall
Of
sheenie
Heav'n,
and
thou
some
goddess
fled
Amongst
us
here
below
to
hide
thy
nectar'd
head
VIII.
Or
wert
thou
that
just
Maid
who
once
before
Forsook
the
hated
earth,
O
tell
me
sooth
And
cam'st
again
to
visit
us
once
more?
Or
wert
thou
that
sweet
smiling
Youth!
Or
that
c[r]own'd
Matron
sage
white-robed
Truth?
Or
any
other
of
that
heav'nly
brood
Let
down
in
clowdie
throne
to
do
the
world
some
good.
IX.
Or
wert
thou
of
the
golden-winged
boast,
Who
having
clad
thy
self
in
humane
weed,
To
earth
from
thy
praefixed
seat
didst
poast,
And
after
short
abode
flie
back
with
speed,
As
if
to
shew
what
creatures
Heav'n
doth
breed,
Thereby
to
set
the
hearts
of
men
on
fire
To
scorn
the
sordid
world,
and
unto
Heav'n
aspire.
X.
But
oh
why
didst
thou
not
stay
here
below
To
bless
us
with
thy
heav'n-lov'd
innocence,
To
slake
his
wrath
whom
sin
hath
made
our
foe
To
turn
Swift-rushing
black
perdition
hence,
Or
drive
away
the
slaughtering
pestilence,
To
stand
'twixt
us
and
our
deserved
smart
But
thou
canst
best
perform
that
office
where
thou
art.
XI.
Then
thou
the
mother
of
so
sweet
a
child
Her
false
imagin'd
loss
cease
to
lament,
And
wisely
learn
to
curb
thy
sorrows
wild;
Think
what
a
present
thou
to
God
hast
sent,
And
render
him
with
patience
what
he
lent;
This
if
thou
do
he
will
an
off-spring
give,
That
till
the
worlds
last-end
shall
make
thy
name
to
live.
