Page:Anne Bradstreet and her time.djvu/105

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And thus (alas) your state you much deplore, In general terms, but will not say wherefore; What medicine shall I seek to cure this woe If th' wound so dangerous I may not know? But you, perhaps, would have me ghess it out, What hath some Hengist like that Saxon stout, By fraud or force usurp'd thy flow'ring crown, Or by tempestuous warrs thy fields trod down? Or hath Canutus, that brave valiant Dane, The Regal peacefull Scepter from the tane? Or is 't a Norman, whose victorious hand With English blood bedews thy conquered land? Or is 't Intestine warrs that thus offend? Do Maud and Stephen for the crown contend? Do Barons rise and side against their King, And call in foraign aid to help the thing? Must Edward be deposed? or is 't the hour That second Richard must be clapt 'i th' tower? Or is 't the fatal jarre again begun That from the red white pricking roses sprung? Must Richmond's aid, the Nobles now implore, To come and break the Tushes of the Boar? If none of these, dear Mother, what's your woe? Pray do you fear Spain's bragging Armado? Doth your Allye, fair France, conspire your wrack, Or do the Scots play false behind your back? Doth Holland quit you ill for all your love? Whence is the storm from Earth or Heaven above? Is 't drought, is 't famine, or is 't pestilence, Dost feel the smart or fear the Consequence? Your humble Child intreats you, shew your grief, Though Arms nor Purse she hath for your relief, Such is her poverty; yet shall be found A Suppliant for your help, as she is bound

I must confess, some of those sores you name, My beauteous body at this present maime; But forreign foe, nor feigned friend I fear, For they have work enough, (thou knowst) elsewhere.