A Contemplation on Bassets down-Hill by the most Sacred adorer of the Muses Mrs. A. K.

IF that exact Appelles now did live.
And would a picture of Elizium give;
He might pourtrai'ct the prospect which this Hill
Doth shew; & make the eie commaud at will.
Heer's many a shire whose pleasauntness for sight
Doth yeild to the Spectators great delight.
Ther's a large Feild guilded with Ceres gold;
Here a green mead doth many Heifers hold:
Ther's pasture growne with virdant grass, whose store,
Of Argent-sheep shewes th'owner is not poore.
Here springs doe intricate Meanders make
Excelling farr Oblivion's Lethe Lake.
There woods and Coppises harbour as many
And sweet melodious Choristers, as any
Elizium yeilds; whose Philomel'an lates
Merit the highest of the Lyrick's praise
Heer's Flor a deck't with robes of Or, and Azur,
Fragrently smelling yeild's two senses pleasure.
Hence Zephirus doth breath his gentle gales
Coole on the Hills, and sweet throughout the Vales
How happy are they that in this Climate dwell?
Alas! they can't their owne sweet welfare tell;
Scarce I my selfe whil'st I am here doe know it
Till I see it's Antithesis to shew it.
Here are no smoaking streets, nor howling cryes,
Deafning the earcs, nor blinding of the eyes;
No noysome smells t' infect, and choacke the aire,
Breeding diseases envious to the Faire.
Deceipt is here exil'd from Flesh, and Bloud:
(Strife only reigns, for all strive to be good.)
With Will hi [...] verse I here will make an end
And as the Crab doth alwaies backward bend
So, though from this sweet place I goe away
My loyall heart will in this Climate stay.
Thus heartless, doth my worthless body rest
Whilest my heart liveth with the ever blest.

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