Ill worthie I such title should belong

To me transgressour, who for thee ordaind

A help, became thy snare; to mee reproach [ 165 ]

Rather belongs, distrust and all dispraise:

But infinite in pardon was my Judge,

That I who first brought Death on all, am gract

The sourse of life; next favourable thou,

Who highly thus to entitle me voutsafst, [ 170 ]

Farr other name deserving. But the Field

To labour calls us now with sweat imposd,

Though after sleepless Night; for see the Morn,

All unconcernd with our unrest, begins

Her rosie progress smiling; let us forth, [ 175 ]

I never from thy side henceforth to stray,

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