Page:Poems of Mr. John Milton, Both English and Latin, Compos'd at several times.djvu/35

  And here though grief my feeble hands up-lock, Yet on the softned Quarry would I score My plaining vers as lively as before; For sure so well instructed are my tears, That they would fitly fall in order'd Characters.

Or should I thence hurried on viewles wing, Take up a weeping on the Mountains wilde, The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring Would soon unboosom all thir Echoes milde, And I (for grief is easily beguild) Might think th' infection of my sorrows loud, Had got a race of mourners on som pregnant cloud.

This Subject the Author finding to be above the yeers he had,
 * when he wrote it, and nothing satisfi'd with what was
 * begun, left it unfinisht.

 

Ly envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace; And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,  Rh