To the New-yeare for the Countesse of Carlile.

GIve Lucinda Pearle, nor Stone,
Lend them light who else have none,
Let Her beautis shine alone.

Gums not spice bring from the East,
For the Phenix in Her brest
Builds his funerall pile, and nest.

No tyre thou canst invent,
Shall to grace her forme be s…nt,
She adornes all ornament.

Give Hernothing, but restore
These sweet smiles which heretofore,
In Her chearfull eyes she wore.

Drive those envious cloudes away,
Vailes that have o're-cast my day,
And ecclips'd Her brighter ray.

Le… the royall Goth mowe downe
This yeares harvest with his owne
Sword, and spare Lucinda's frowne,

Janus, if when next I trace
Those sweet lines, I in her face
Reade the Charter of my grace,

Then from bright Apollo's tree,
Such a Garland wreath'd shall be,
As shall Crowne both Her and thee.