Page:Madagascar, with other poems - Davenant (1638).djvu/116

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To Endimion Porter, upon
his recovery from a long Sicknesse.

Iust so the Sunne doth rise, as if last NightHe cal'd t'accompt the Moone, for all the lightShe ever ow'd; now looks so full of scorne,And pride; as she had payd him all this Morne!So cleere a day, timely foretells; I nowShall scape those Clouds, that hung upon my BrowWhilst I thy sicknesse mourn'd; and lesse did sleepThan faithfull Widowes, that sincerely weep.A true presage! My hopes no sooner tellWhat they desir'd, but strait I finde thee well.Bless'd be the Stars; whose pow'rfull influenceOur healths, by Minerals, and Hearbs dispence!And that's their chiefest use: who thinks that FateSo many Stars did purposely create,

And

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