To Mr I. L.

Blessed are your north parts, for all this long time
My sun is with you, cold and dark is our clime;
Heaven’s sun, which stayed so long from us this year,
Stayed in your north (I think) for she was there,
And hither by kind nature drawn from thence,
Here rages, chafes and threatens pestilence;
Yet I, as long as she from hence doth stay,
Think this no south, no summer, nor no day.
With thee my kind and unkind heart is run,
There sacrifice it to that beauteous sun:
And since thou art in paradise and needst crave
No joy’s addition, help thy friend to save.
So may thy pastures with their flowery feasts,
As suddenly as lard, fat thy lean beasts;
So may thy woods oft polled, yet ever wear
A green, and when thee list, a golden hair;
So may all thy sheep bring forth twins; and so
In chase and race may thy horse all outgo;
So may thy love and courage ne’er be cold;
Thy son ne’er ward; thy loved wife ne’er seem old;
But mayst thou wish great things, and them attain,
As thou tell’st her, and none but her my pain.

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