Page:The works of Anne Bradstreet in prose and verse.djvu/213

 The. Four Huniours of Alan. 127

The animal I claim as well as thefe,

The nerves, fhould I not warm, foon would they freeze

But flegme her felf is now provok'd at this

She thinks I never fhot lb far amifs.

The brain fhe challengeth, the head's her feat;

But know'ts a foolifh brain that wanteth heat.

My abfence proves it plain, her wit then flyes

Out at her nofe, or melteth at her eyes.

Oh who would mifs this influence of thine [ 26]

To be diftill'd, a drop on every Line?

Alas,'' thou haft no Spirits, thy Company

Will feed a dropfy, or a Tympany,

The Palfy, Gout, or Cramp, or fome fuch dolour:

Thou waft not made, for Souldier or for Scholar;

Of greazy paunch, and bloated '^ cheeks go vaunt,

But a good head from thefe are diflbnant.

But Melancholy, wouldft have this glory thine.

Thou fayll thy wits are ftaid, fubtil and fine;

'Tis true, when I am Midwife to thy birth

Thy felf 's as dull, as is thy mother Earth :

Thou canft not claim the liver, head nor heart

Yet haft the ' Seat afllgn'd, a goodly part

The finke of all us three, the hateful Spleen

Of that black Region, nature made thee Queen;

Where pain and fore obftru6lion thou doft work,

Where envy, malice, thy Companions lurk.

If once thou'rt great, what follows thereupon

But bodies wafting, and deftru6lion .^

c No, 1.0. d palled. ' thy.

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