Poem by Robert Herrick

To the King

Give way, give way! now, now my Charles shines here
A public light, in this immensive sphere;
Some stars were fix'd before, but these are dim
Compar'd, in this my ample orb, to him.
Draw in your feeble fires, while that he
Appears but in his meaner majesty.
Where, if such glory flashes from his name,
Which is his shade, who can abide his flame!
Princes, and such like public lights as these,
Must not be look'd on but at distances:
For, if we gaze on these brave lamps too near,
Our eyes they'll blind, or if not blind, they'll blear.

1. Cock-Crow
2. To His Conscience
3. An Ode of the Birth of Our Saviour
4. Upon a Crooked Maid
5. The Dirge of Jephthah's Daughter: Sung by the Virgins

Edmund Waller To the King ("The rising sun complies with our weak sight")

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