The Indispos'd. Nahum Tate Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Tate, Nahum, c. 1652-1715. Poems by N. Tate. London Printed by T.M. for Benj. Tooke ... 1677 pp. 1-3. [15],133p.

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The Indispos'd . I. WHat tho th'unweary'd Sun Already has his Race begun ? Already summon'd to their Pleasant Toyl Th'Inhabitants o'th' open Soyl ? What Comfort in his Lustre can I find , If yet no cheerful Glimpse begin A Glorious Morn Within , But Mists and Darkness still oppress my Mind ? II . What Entertainment can it be To hear the Tunefull Birds from ev'ry Tree , With Grateful Songs the rising Day salute , Unless my Fancy with the Musick suit ? If in my Thoughts I find no Harmony , I shall ( Alass ! ) as soon Rejoyce At th'Ominous Ravens dolefull Voyce ; Or be diverted with the Bell , That Rings my Own , or dearer Friends untimely Knell . III . Whilst in my Breast the Weather's Fair , I ne're enquire the Temper of the Air : So Reason o're my Appetites bear sway , I'm unconcern'd what Planet Rules the Day . If husht and silent my fierce Passions lye , The loudest Gusts that rend the Sky , Invite Repose , and make my Sleep more sound : The Tempest in my Brest Alone can break my Rest ; Ev'n Hurricanes abroad are sound To Dammage less than smallest Winds hatcht Under-ground .