Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/271

 SIR JOHN BEAUMONT

1583-1627

223. Of his Dear Son, Gervase

Dear Lord, receive my son, whose winning love To me was like a friendship, far above The course of nature or his tender age; Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage: Let his pure soul, ordain'd seven years to be In that frail body which was part of me, Remain my pledge in Heaven, as sent to show How to this port at every step I go.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND, OF HAWTHORNDEN

1585-1649

224. Invocation

Phœbus, arise! And paint the sable skies With azure, white, and red; Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed, That she thy career may with roses spread; The nightingales thy coming each-where sing; Make an eternal spring! Give life to this dark world which lieth dead; Spread forth thy golden hair In larger locks than thou wast wont before, And emperor-like decore With diadem of pearl thy temples fair: Chase hence the ugly night Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.