218 39«alr 3UaStJS. 
Hence, profane grim man! nor dare 
To approach so neere my faire. 
Marble vaults, and gloomy caves, 
Church-yards, charnell-houses, graves, 
Where the living loath to be, 
Heaven hath designed to thee. 
But if needs ’mongst us thou’lt rage, 
Let thy fury feed on age. 
Habingion. 
So doth the swiftly turning wheel not stand 
P the instant we withdraw the moving hand, 
But some short time retains a faint, weak course, 
By virtue of the first impulsive force; 
And so, whilst I cast on thy funeral pile 
Thy crown of bays, oh let it crack awhile, 
And spit disdain, till the devouring flashes 
Suck all the moisture up, then turn to ashes. 
Carew. 
Ah! thou hast left to live; and in the time 
When soarce thou blossom’dst in thy pleasant prime: 
So falls by northern blast a virgin rose, 
At half that doth her bashful bosom close 
So a sweet flower languishing decays, 
That late did blush when kissed by Phoebus’ rays; 
So Phoebus mounting the meridian’s height, 
Choked by pale Phoebe, faints unto our sight; 
Astonished Nature sullen stands to see 
The life of all this all so changed to be; 
In gloomy gowns the stars this loss deplore, 
The sea with murmuring mountains beats the shore. 
Drummond. 
