XVII br br br Lawrence of vertuous Father vertuous Son, br Now that the Fields are dank, and ways are mire, br Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire br Help wast a sullen day; what may be Won br From the hard Season gaining: time will run br On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire br The frozen earth; and cloth in fresh attire br The Lillie and Rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. br What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, br Of Attick tast, with Wine, whence we may rise br To hear the Lute well toucht, or artfull voice br Warble immortal Notes and Tuskan Ayre? br He who of those delights can judge, and spare br To interpose them oft, is not unwise.