Page:Anne Bradstreet and her time.djvu/251

Rh What I can do well skil'd Mechanicks may; The benefit all living by me finde, All sorts of Artists, here declare your mind, What tool was ever fram'd, but by my might? Ye Martilisk, what weapons for your fight To try your valor by, but it must feel My force? Your Sword, & Gun, your Lance of steel Your Cannon's bootless and your powder too Without mine aid, (alas) what can they do; The adverse walls not shak'd, the Mines not blown And in despight the City keeps her own; But I with one Granado or Petard Set ope those gates, that 'fore so strong were bar'd Ye Husband-men, your Coulters made by me Your Hooes your Mattocks, & what ere you see Subdue the Earth, and fit it for your Grain That so it might in time requite your pain; Though strong-limb'd Vulcan forg'd it by his skill I made it flexible unto his will; Ye Cooks, your Kitchen implements I frame Your Spits, Pots, Jacks, what else I need not name Your dayly food I wholsome make, I warm Your shrinking Limbs, which winter's cold doth harm Ye Paracelsians too in vain's your skill In Chymistry, unless I help you Still.

And you Philosophers, if e're you made A transmutation it was through mine aid, Ye silver Smiths, your Ure I do refine What mingled lay with Earth I cause to shine, But let me leave these things, my fame aspires To match on high with the Celestial fires; The Sun an Orb of fire was held of old, Our Sages new another tale have told; But be he what they will, yet his aspect A burning fiery heat we find reflect And of the self same nature is with mine Cold sister Earth, no witness needs but thine; How doth his warmth, refresh thy frozen back And trim thee brave, in green, after thy black. Both man and beast rejoyce at his approach, And birds do sing, to see his glittering Coach And though nought, but Salamanders live in fire