To CASTARA,

Weeping.

Castara ! O you are too prodigall
Oth' treasure of your teares; which thus let fall
Make no returne: well plac'd calme peace might bring
To the loud wars, each free a captiv'd King.
So the unskilfull Indian those bright jems,
Which might adde majestie to Diadems,
'Mong the waves scatters, as if he would store
The thanklesse Sea, to make our Empire poore:
When heaven darts thunder at the wombe of Time,
Cause with each moment it brings forth a crime,
Or else despairing to roote out abuse,
Would ruine vitious earth; be then profuse.
 Light, chas'd rude chaos from the world before,
 Thy teares, by hindring it's returne, worke more.

To CASTARA,

Weeping.

Castara ! O you are too prodigall
Oth' treasure of your teares; which thus let fall
Make no returne: well plac'd calme peace might bring
To the loud wars, each free a captiv'd King.
So the unskilfull Indian those bright jems,
Which might adde majestie to Diadems,
'Mong the waves scatters, as if he would store
The thanklesse Sea, to make our Empire poore:
When heaven darts thunder at the wombe of Time,
Cause with each moment it brings forth a crime,
Or else despairing to roote out abuse,
Would ruine vitious earth; be then profuse.
 Light, chas'd rude chaos from the world before,
 Thy teares, by hindring it's returne, worke more.