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Elegie. 1. |
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Not that in colour it was like thy haire, [f. 21] |
For Armeletts of that, thou ma'yst lett mee weare; |
Nor that thy hand it oft embrac't, and kist: |
For soe it had the good, wch oft I mist. |
Nor for the seelie old moralitie, |
That as those linckes are tyed, or loves should bee. |
Mourne I, that* thy sevenfold Chaine haue lost; |
Nor for the lucke sake, but the bitter Cost. |
Oh! shall twelve righteous Angelles, wch as yet |
No leuen of vild Solder did admitt; |
Nor yet by anie fault haue strayde, or gone |
From the first state of their creation. |
Angelles, wch Heav'ne comaunded to provide |
All thinges to mee, and bee my faithfull Guide, |
To gaine new freindse, to appease great Enemies, |
To comfort my Soule when I lie, or rise. |
Shall these twelue Innocents by thy severe |
Sentence (dread Iudge) my Sins great burthen beare? |
Shall they bee dam'nd,? and in the furnace throwne? |
And punished for offences not theire owne? |
They save not mee, they doe not ease my paines, |
When in that Hell they are burnt, and tyed in Chaines. |
Weare they but Crownes of Fraunce I cared not,
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[CW: For] |