TO MRS. D.S., ON THE BIRTH OF SIDNEY, HER SECOND SON by WILLIAM HAMMOND

DEAR NIECE,
MAY rest drown all thy pains; but never sleep
Thy painful merits. Whilst feet verses keep,
And Muses wings, they shall along, and blow
Thy fame abroad, whilst time shall circuits go
To judge strifes elemental, and arouse
The drowsy world to mind this noble spouse.
How opportunely her heroic fruit,
Waiving her own, doth our torn sex recruit:
Two boys have sprung from her womb's lively mould,
Ere both the parents forty summers told.
She might such human goddesses produce,
As might the relaps'd world again amuse
Into Idolatry, and justify
Bright Cypria's fable, each poetic lie
Old Greece, or any modern lover, made
To deify the beauty of a maid.
But the prizing her mate 'bove her own eyes,
Him rather with his likeness gratifies;
The reason, if a poet may divine,
Why all her blossoms quicken masculine
Is, that her brethren, never extant seen,
But possible, by Fate have kindred been
Into her flesh, which flowers in virgin snow
Benumb'd, slept in their winter cause, till now
That nuptial Sun approach'd, whose piercing ray
Op'ning their urn, recall'd them into day.
On this trade angels wait, and on their wing
Created souls into new bodies bring.
What power hath Love, that can set Heaven a task
To make a gem, when he prepares the cask?
And if well set, or void of heinous flaw,
Ordain'd by the Creator's gracious law
For his own wearing, which himself will own
An ornament even to his burnish'd crown.
On then, fair spouse, and ease the pangs of birth
By thinking you enrich both Heaven and Earth.
Think you may live till they in honour's sphere
Brighter than the Tindaridae appear;
And then you cannot die! the lives you gave,
They amply will repay, despoil the grave
Of your immortal name: may you behold
Them fully act the praise I faintly told!

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