Page:Anne Bradstreet and her time.djvu/253

Rh Carthage, and hundred more in stories told Which when they could not be o'ercome by foes The Army, thro'ugh my help victorious rose And Stately London, our great Britian's glory My raging flame did make a mournful story, But maugre all, that I, or foes could do That Phœnix from her Bed, is risen New. Old sacred Zion, I demolished thee Lo great Diana's Temple was by me, And more than bruitish London, for her lust With neighbouring Towns, I did consume to dust What shall I say of Lightning and of Thnder Which Kings & mighty ones amaze with wonder, Which make a Cæsar, (Romes) the world's proud head, Foolish Caligula creep under 's bed. Of Meteors, Ignus fatuus and the rest, But to leave those to th' wise, I judge it best. The rich I oft made poor, the strong I maime, Not sparing Life when I can take the same; And in a word, the world I shall consume And all therein, at that great day of Doom; Not before then, shall cease, my raging ire And then because no matter more for fire Now Sisters pray proceed, each in your Course As I, impart your usefulness and force.

Fully satisfied that nothing remains to be said, Fire takes her place among the sisterhood and waits scornfully for such poor plea as Earth may be able to make, surprised to find what power of braggadocio still remains and hastens to display itself.

The next in place Earth judg'd to be her due, Sister (quoth shee) I come not short of you, In wealth and use I do surpass you all, And mother earth of old men did me call Such is my fruitfulness, an Epithite, Which none ere gave, or you could claim of sight Among my praises this I count not least, I am th' original of man and beast,