A POEM, Upon the Transactions between A LANDLORD And His Tenant DAY, Who privately departed from him by Night.  By a Gent. of Lincoln's-Inne. 

HEre Night and Day conspire a secret flight:  
For Day (they say) is gone away by Night.  
The Day is past; but, Landlord where's your Rent?  
You might ha' seen, that Day was almost spent.  
Day sold, and did put off what e'er he might,  
Tho it was ne'er so dark Day would be light.  
All moveables and Liquors that could pay  
Your annual Rent are gone as clear as Day.  
You had one Day a Tenant, and would fain  
See, if you could one Day that Day again.  
No, Landlord, no, you now may truly say,  
And to your cost too, you ha' lost the Day.  
Day is departed in the Night, I hear;  
Nay Day is broke, yet does not Day appear.  
Landlord, you see by Night retired is Day,  
And you know well, time will for no Man stay.  
From Sun to Sun is the fit time for pay,  
But you should ha' been up by break of Day;  
Yet, if you had, you had got nothing by't;  
For Day was cunning, and broke over Night.  
Day, like a Candle is gone out, and where  
None knows, except the other Hemisphere.  
Misfortune's now do Day in darkness shroud,  
Truth is, at present, Day's under a Cloud;  
And yet, who trusted him for any sum,  
Might ha' their money, if that Day were come;  
But Day being gone hath left our hopes in Night.  
Then Belman cry Lantern and Candlelight,  
Well Honest Landlord, what's the matter pray,  
What, can't you sleep for longing for the Day?  
I know what 'tis does discompose your Soul,  
You'd fain see Day through a little hole.  
Ha' you a mind, Sir to Arrest the Day?  
there's no such Sergeant as a Joshuah:  
You must since Day is now gone out of sight,  
Live comfortless in an eternal night.  
Never expect on Day to wreak your spite,  
'Tis but in vain, you do but burn daylight;  
He's th' Emblem of your life, a fleeting Day,  
That's gone and past, must not, nay cannot stay  
Beyond the time prefixed by common Fate,  
And to recall the Day once past's too late;  
Yet in your fury you'll not stick to say,  
Cursed be the Day, whereon I lost this Day.  
Lay by your passion tho' for a round sum,  
You know, good Sir, that a payday will come;  
Therefore cheer up, banish all care and sorrow,  
I'll lay my life Day comes again to morrow;  
Nay, should he come after this tedious stay,  
I fear you'd hardly give him the good day.  
It was your fault, if you on him relied,  
Against a rainy day you should provide.  
You thought you a good Tenant had always,  
But, like a Fool, I thought 'twould ne'er be Day.  
Landlord, you may with old Rome's Emperor say,  
Once in your life, that you ha' lost a Day▪  
In your Ephemeris let it ha' no room,  
Because to you it proved a day of Doom.  
Day is departed and in truth, I fear,  
You'll ne'er see Day, till Doomsday does appear,  
But then, when Gabriel blows his horn, you may,  
'Tis very probable once more see Day.  
Had you a wakeful Man, and early been,  
You might ha' come before day was shut in,  
Defeated all those shuffling tricks outright,  
Contrived and acted between Day and Night.  
Every Dog has his day, and you may say,  
'Twas a Dog's trick for Day to run away.  
And now 'tis too apparent what I'm told,  
Day craftily left you the Dog to hold;  
Yet Day marched off with nothing but his own,  
The Nest remains, altho' the Bird be flown.  
Should all your Tenants serve you thus I'll swear,  
The Dog's life, Hunger and ease, would be your share:  
Too sure, ah lack a day! the Landlord cries,  
I knew the day, when it was otherwise:  
Never disturb yourself at this, good Friend!  
You know that longest day must have an end,  
Or else the Proverb fails, never repine,  
Tho' your Day's lost, and which is worse, his Wine.  
Such petty wrongs manfully scorn and slight,  
And civilly even bid good Day good Night.  
Day now the operation of Wine feels,  
Which makes i'th' Night light heads, in day light heels.  
Day's not at all too blame; for should he stay  
'Thad proved, to him an Execution-day.  
The Day is broke, 'tis time for you to rise;  
See how you like Day's Evening Exercise;  
Yet 'tis the course of Nature's Sovereign sway,  
That glooming Ngiht should yield t'approaching Day.  
'Tis a mere contradiction every way,  
That you should be thus Night-mared by the Day;  
Therefore conclude with me your daily Friend,  
All's but an idle Dream, and there's an End.   
FINIS.   

Books Printed for James Norris, at the Kings-Arms, without Temple Bar, 1684.  

1. A satire against the Association, and the Guildhall Riot, quarto.  
2. The Noble Stranger, a Curious Novel, octavo.  
3. A Tract against the absolute Decree of Reprobation, in Latin, octavo.  
4. An Idea of Happiness in a Letter to a Friend, quarto.  
5. A Murnival of Knaves, or Wiggism plainly Displayed, quarto.  
6. The Accomplished Lady, or Disserving Gentlewoman, twelve.  
7. The History of the horrid Conspiracy of Catiline, against the Government of Rome, octavo.  
8. Core Radevius a Thanksgiving Sermon, quarto.  
9 Rome's Rarities, or the Pope's Cabinet unlocked and exposed to view, octavo.  
10. Lucian's Ghost, or Dialogues between the Dead, wandering in the Elyzian shades, twelves.   

ADVERTISEMENT  
In the Press are POEMS and Discourses occasionally written by John Norris, Fellow of All-Souls College in Oxford; which shortly will be published.    

LONDON, Printed for James Norris, at the Sign of the King's-Arms without Temple Bar. 1684.