When, in the sweet and pleasant Month of _May_, We see both Leaves and Blossomes on the Tree, And view the _Meadowes_ in their best array, We hopefull are a _Ioyfull-Spring_ to see; Yet, oft, before the following _Night_ be past, It chanceth, that a _Vapor_, or a _Frost_, Doth all those forward bloomings wholly waste; And, then, their _Sweetnesse_ and their _Beautie’s_ lost. Such, is the state of ev’ry mortall Wight: In _Youth_, our _Glories_, and our _Lusts_ we shew; We fill our selves with ev’ry vaine Delight, And, will most thinke on that which may insue. But, let us learne to _heed_, as well as _know_, That, _Spring_ doth passe; that, _Summer_ steales away; And, that the _Flow’r_ which makes the fairest show, E’re many Weekes, must wither and decay. And, from this _Emblem_, let each _Lab’ring-Swaine_ (In whatsoever course of life it be) Take heart, and hope, amidst his daily paine, That, of his _Travailes_, he good fruits shall see. The Plow’d and Harrow’d _Field_, which, to thine eye, Seemes like to be the _Grave_, in which the Seeds Shall (without hope of rising) _buryed_ lye, Becomes the fruitfull _Wombe_, where _Plenty_ breeds. There, will be _Corne_, where nought but _Mire_ appeares; The Durty _Seed_, will forme a greenish _blade_; The _Blade_, will rise to _Stemmes_ with fruitfull _Eares_; Those _Eares_, will ripen, and be _yellow_ made: So, if in honest _Hopes_, thou persevere, A Ioyfull _Harvest_ will at last appeare. _As soone, as wee to =bee=, begunne; We did beginne, to be =Vndone=._ [Illustration: FINIS AB ORIGINE PĒDET ILLVSTR. XLV. _Book. 1._]