VOTARIES

She knew, and hath expressed it now, And so does every public vow That herd her why, and waits thy how. These, These must sure some wonders be! 1 Their very number, how it takes! 2 What harmony their presence makes! 3 How they inflame the place! Let Time then so with Love conspire, as strait be sent into the court A little Cupid, armed with fire, Attended by a jocund Sport, To breed delight, and a desire of being delighted in the nobler sort. And CUPID conquers, ever he does invade. His Victories of lightest trouble prove. For there is never labour, where is Love. Yes. All votes do in one circle move. Oh, what a glory it's to see Men's wishes, Time, and Love agree! What grief, or envy had it been, That these, and such had not been seen, but still obscured in shade! Who are the glories of the Time, Of youth, and feature too, the prime, And for the light were made? Now they are nearer seen, and viewed; For whom could Love have better sued? or Time have done the grace? The Courtly strife is done, it should appear, Between the Youths, and Beauty's of the year, We hope that now these lights will know their sphere, And strive hereafter to shine ever here: Like brightest Planets, still to move In th'eye of Time, and orbs of Love. Turn Hunter's then, again. Hunting, it is the noblest exercise, Makes men laborious, active, wise, Brings health, and does the spirits delight, It help's the hearing, and the sighed: It teaches Arts that never slip The memory, good Horsemanship, Search, sharpness, courage, and defence, And chases all ill habits thence. Turn Hunter's then, again, But not of Men. Follow his ample, And joust example, That hates all chase of malice, and of blood: And studies only ways of good, To keep soft peace in breath. Man should not hunt Mankind to death, But strike the enemies of Man; Kill vices if you can: They are your wildest beasts, And when they thickest fallen, you make the Gods true feasts: