To Ellinda
That lately I have not written.
I
IF in me Anger, or disdaine
In you, or both, made me refraine
From th’ Noble intercourse of Verse,
That only Vertuous thoughts rehearse ;
Then Chaste Ellinda might you feare
The sacred Vowes that I did sweare.
II
But if alone some pious thought
Me to an inward sadnesse brought,
Thinking to breath your Soule too well,
My tongue was charmed with that spell ;
And left it (since there was no roome
To Voyce your worth enough) strooke dumbe.
III
So then this Silence doth reveale
No thought of Negligence, but Zeale:
For as in Adoration,
This is Loves true Devotion:
Children and Fooles the words repeate,
But Anch’rites pray in teares and sweate.
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