I'le sail upon the Dog-Star, and then persue the Morning; I'le chase the Moon 'till it be Noon, but I'le make her leave her Horning. I'le climb the frosty Mountain, and there I'le coyn the Weather; I'le tear the Rain-bow from the Sky, and tye both ends together. The Stars pluck from their Orbs too, and crowd them in my Budget; and whether I'm a roaring Boy, let all the Nation judge it. |