That more may not beseeme a creatures praise, Yet still thou vow'st her more; and every yeare Mak'st a new progresse, while thou wandrest here; Still upward mount; and let thy Makers praise 35 Honor thy Laura, and adorne thy laies. And since thy Muse her head in heaven shrouds, Oh let her never stoope below the clouds: And if those glorious sainted soules may know Or what wee doe, or what wee sing below, 40 Those acts, those songs shall still content them best Which praise those awfull Powers that make them blest. [Of the Progresse _&c._ _1612-69:_ The second Anniversary. _1612-69_ (_in 1612-21 it stands at head of page_)] [The Harbinger _&c._] _In 1612-25 this poem printed in italics_] [8 are:] are _1612-25_] [12 that now] as now _1635-69_, _Chambers_] [27 soule] soules _1612_] [28 owne, _1635-69:_ owne. _1612-33_] [34 while] whilst _1669_] [35 upward] upwards _1612_] OF THE PROGRESSE OF THE SOULE. _The second Anniversarie._ [Sidenote: _The entrance._[1]] Nothing could make me sooner to confesse That this world had an everlastingnesse, Then to consider, that a yeare is runne, Since both this lower world's, and the Sunnes Sunne, The Lustre, and the vigor of this All, 5 Did set; 'twere blasphemie to say, did fall. But as a ship which hath strooke saile, doth runne By force of that force which before, it wonne: Or as sometimes in a beheaded man, Though at those two Red seas, which freely ranne, 10 One from the Trunke, another from the Head, His soule be sail'd, to her eternall bed, His eyes will twinckle, and his tongue will roll, As though he beckned, and cal'd backe his soule, He graspes his hands, and he pulls up his feet, 15 And seemes to reach, and to step forth to meet His soule; when all these motions which we saw, Are but as Ice, which crackles at a thaw: Or as a Lute, which in moist weather, rings Her knell alone, by cracking of her strings: 20 So struggles this dead world, now shee is gone; For there is motion in corruption. As some daies are at the Creation nam'd, Before the Sunne, the which fram'd daies, was fram'd, So after this Sunne's set, some shew appeares, 25 And orderly vicissitude of yeares. Yet a new Deluge, and of _Lethe_ flood, Hath drown'd us all, All have forgot all good, Forgetting her, the maine reserve of all. Yet in this deluge, grosse and generall, 30 Thou seest me strive for life; my life shall bee, To be hereafter prais'd, for praysing thee; Immortall Maid, who though thou would'st refuse The name of Mother, be unto my Muse A Father, since her chast Ambition is, 35 Yearely to bring forth such a child as this. These Hymnes may worke on future wits, and so