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with a serious musing I behold

The grateful and obsequious marigold,

How duly every morning she displays

Her open breast, when Titan spreads his rays;

How she observes him in his daily walk,

Still bending towards him her small slender stalk;

How when he down declines, she droops and mourns,

Bedewed, as 'twere with tears, till he returns;

And how she veils her flowers when he is gone,

As if she scornèd to be lookèd on

By an inferior eye; or did contemn

To wait upon a meaner light than him.

When this I meditate, methinks the flowers

Have spirits far more generous than ours,

And give us fair examples to despise

The servile fawnings and idolatries,

Wherewith we court these earthly things below,

Which merit not the service we bestow.

his royal person did foretell

A kingly stateliness, from all pride clear;

His look majestic seemèd to compel

All men to love him, rather than to fear.

And yet though he were every good man's joy,

And the alonely comfort of his own,

His very name with terror did annoy

His foreign foes so far as he was known.

Hell drooped for fear; the Turkey moon looked pale;

Spain trembled; and the most tempestuous sea,