LOVES HOROSCOPE Love, brave Vertues younger Brother, Erst hath made my Heart a Mother, Shee consults the conscious Sphreares, To calculate her young sons years. She askes if sad, or saving powers, Gave Omen to his infant howers, Shee akses each starre that then stood by, If poore Love shall live or dy. Ah my Heart, is that the way? Are these the Beames that rule thy Day? Thou know’st a Face in whose each looke, Beauty layes ope Loves Fortune-booke On whose faire revolutions wait The obsequious motions of Loves fate; Ah my Heart, her eyes and shee, Have taught thee new Astrologie. How e’er Loves native hours were set, What ever starry Synod met, ‘Tis in the mercy of her eye, If poore Love shall live or dye. If those sharpe Rayes putting on Points of Death bid Love be gon, (Though the Heavens in counsel sate, To crowne an uncontrouled Fate, Though their best Aspects twin’d upon The kindest Constellation, Cast amorous glances on his Birth, And whisper’d the confederate Earth To pave his paths with all the good That wars the Bed of youth and blood;) Love has not plea against her eye, Beauty frownes, and Love must dye. But if her milder influence move, And gild the hopes of humble Love: (Though heavens inauspicious eye Lay blacke on Loves Nativitie; Though every Diamond in Joves crowne Fix his forehead to a frowne,) Her eye a strong appeale can give, Beauty smiles and Love shall live. O if Love shall live, O where, But in her Eye, or in her Eare, In her Brest, or in her Breath, Shall I hide poore Love from Death? For in the life ought else can give, Love shall dye, although he live. Or if Love shall duye, O where But in her Eye, or in her Eare In her Breath, or in her Breast, Shall I Build his funeral Nest? While Love shall thus entombed lye, Love shall live, although he dye.
THE CREEKSIDE HERMIT 