Samuel Daniel

And who in time knows whither we may vent
The treasure of our tongue? To what strange shores
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And who in time knows whither we may vent
The treasure of our tongue? To what strange shores
This gain of our best glory shall be sent,
T' enrich unknowing nations with our stores?
What worlds in th' yet unformed Occident
May come refin'd with th' accents that are ours?

The key of the fields (street).
[Fr., La clef des champs.]

The key of the fields (street).
[Fr., La clef des champs.]

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, read more

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using.

Th' aspirer, once attain'd unto the top,
Cuts off those means by which himself got up.

Th' aspirer, once attain'd unto the top,
Cuts off those means by which himself got up.

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born;
Relive my languish, read more

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born;
Relive my languish, and restore the light.