Page:Anne Bradstreet and her time.djvu/298

282 There Abel keeps his sheep no ill he thinks, His brother comes, then acts his fratracide The Virgin Earth, of blood her first draught drinks, But since that time she often hath been clay'd; The wretch with gastly face and dreadful mind, Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind, Though none on Earth but kindred near, then could he find.

Who fancyes not his looks now at the Barr, His face like death, his heart with horror fraught, Nor Male-factor ever felt like warr, When deep dispair with wish of life hath fought, Branded with guilt, and crusht with treble woes, A vagabond to Land of Nod he goes; A City builds, that wals might him secure from foes.

Who thinks not oft upon the Father's ages. Their long descent, how nephews sons they saw, The starry observations of those Sages, And how their precepts to their sons were law, How Adam sigh'd to see his Progeny, Cloath'd all in his black sinful Livery, Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could fly.

Our Life compare we with their length of dayes Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive? And though thus short, we shorten many wayes, Living so little while we are alive; In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight, So unawares comes on perpetual night, And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight.

When I behold the heavens as in their prime, And then the earth, (though old) stil clad in green The stones and trees insensible of time, Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen;