Poems, &c. written upon several occasions, and to several persons by Edmond Waller. Poems. Selections Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. 1686 Approx. 267 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 158 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A67346 Wing W517 ESTC R9926 12091207 ocm 12091207 53889 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A67346) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 53889) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 588:4) Poems, &c. written upon several occasions, and to several persons by Edmond Waller. Poems. Selections Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. The fifth edition, with several additions never before printed. [7], 301, [5] p. : port. Printed for H. Herringman, and are to be sold by J. Knight and F. Saunder ..., [London] : 1686. "The table" [i.e. index]: p. [1]-[5] at end. "Fifth [i.e. eighth] edition." Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng 2002-11 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-12 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-01 Olivia Bottum Sampled and proofread 2003-01 Olivia Bottum Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Sed Carmina major jmago Poems , &c. Written upon several OCCASIONS , And to several PERSONS : BY EDMOND WALLER , Esq Licensed , May 18. 1686. ROGER L'ESTRANGE . The Fifth Edition , with several Additions Never before Printed . Non ego mordaci distrinxi carmine quenquam , Nulla venenato littera Mista ioco est . Printed for H. Herringman , and are to be sold by J. Knight and F. Saunder at the Blew Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange . 1686. The Printer TO THE READER : WHen the Author of these Verses ( Written only to please himself , and such particular persons to whom they were directed ) returned from abroad some years since , He was troubled to find his name in Print , but somewhat satisfied to see his Lines so ill rendred that he might justly disown them , and say to a mistaking Printer , as one did to an ill Reciter , — Male dum recitas , incipit esse tuum . Having been ever since pressed to correct the many and gross faults ( such as use to be in Impressions wholly neglected by the Authors ) his answer was , that he made these when ill Verses had more favour and escaped better , than good ones do in this age ; the severity whereof he thought not unhappily diverted by those faults in the impression , which hitherto have hung upon his Book , as the Turks hang old rags ( or such like ugly things ) upon their fairest Horses and other goodly Creatures , to secure them against fascination ; and for those of a more Confin'd understanding , who pretend not to Cens●●e ) as they ad m●re most what they least comprehend , so his Verse● ( maimed to that degree that himself scarce knew what to make of many of them ) might that may at least have a Title to some Admiration , which is no small matter , if what an old Author observes be true , That the aim of Orators , is Victory ; of Historians , Tr●●● and of Poets , Admiration ; He had reason therefore to indulge those faults in his Book whereby it might be reconsiled to some , and commended to others . The Printer also be thought would fore the worse , if those faults were amended ; for we see maimed statues sell better than whole ones , and clipt and washt Many go about when the entire and weighty lies ●oarded up . These are the reasons which for above twelve years past he has opposed to our request ; To which it was replyed , that as it would be too late to recal that which had so long been made publick , so might it find excuse from his Youth ( the season it was produced in ) And for what had been dome source and now added , if it commend not his Poetry , it might his Philosophy , which teaches him so chearfully to bear so great a Calamitr , as the loss of the best part of his fortune ( torn from him in Prison , in which , and in 〈◊〉 , the best portion of his life hath also been spent ) that he can still sing under the burthen , not unlike that Roman , — Quem demisere Philippi Decifis humilem p●nnis inopemque Patorn ▪ Et Laris , & ●undi — Whose spreading wings the civil war had clipt ▪ And him of his old Patrimony Stript , Who yet not long after could say , Musis amicus Tristitiam & Metus Tradam protervis in Mare Creticum Portare ventis . — They that acquainted with the Muses be , sand care and 〈◊〉 by the winds to Sea. Not so much moved with these reasons of ours ( or pleas'd with our R●●●●●s ) as wearied with our importunity , He has at last given no leave , To assure the Reader , That the Poems which have been so long and so ill set forth under his name , are here to be found as he first ●uit them ; as also to add some others which have since been compos'd by him . And though his Advice to the contrary might have discourag'd us , yet observing how often they have been reprinted , what price they have born , and how earnestly they have been always inquired after , but especially of late , making good that of Horace , — Melioradies , ut Vina , Poemata reddit ; Some Vinsos being ( like some wines ) recommended to our Taste by time and Age , we have adventured upon this new and well corrected Edition , which for our own sakes , as well as thin● , we hope will succeed better than be apprehended . Vivitur ingenia , C●tera mortis erunt . Postscript . NOT having the same Argument as at first to persuade the Author that I might print his Verses more Correctly , which he found so ill done at his Return ; I have now , adventured , without giving him farther Trouble by , importuning him for a new Permission , to Collect all that I can find , either left out of the former Edition , or such as have been since made by him ; to which I am the more encouraged , because the first ( thô most of them were compos'd Fifty or Sixty years since ) seem still New , which would be more strange in so changing a Language , had it not been by him improv'd , which may make one think it true that I have heard from some learned Criticks , that Virgil when he said — Nova carmina pango . Meant not Verses that were never seen before ( for in that sence all at first are New ) but such as he thought might be ever New. May these still appear to be so for the diversion of the Readers , and interest of 〈…〉 〈…〉 Their Humble Servant . TO THE KING On His NAVY . WHere e're thy Navy spreads her canvas wings , Homage to thee , and Peace to all she brings . The French and Spaniard , when thy Flags appear ; Forget their Hatred , and consent to fear . So Iove from Ida did both Hosts survey , And when he pleas'd to Thunder , part the sray . Ships heretofore in Seas like Fishes sped , The mighty still upon the smaller fed . Thou on the deep impofest Nobler Laws , And by that Justice hast remov'd the Cause Of those rude Tempests , which for Rapine sent , Too oft alas , involv'd the innocent . Now shall the Ocean , as thy Thames , be free From both those fates , of Storms , and Piracy : But we most happy , who can fear no force But winged Troops , or Pegasean Horse : 'T is not so hard for greedy foes to spoil Another Nation , as to touch our soil . Should Natures self invade the World again , And o're the Center spread the liquid Main ; Thy power were safe , and her destructive hand Would but enlarge the bounds of thy command . Thy dreadful Fleet would stile thee Lord of all , And ride in Triumph o're the drowned Ball. Those Towers of Oak o're fertile plains might go , And visit Mountains where they once did grow . The Worlds Restorer never could endure , That finish'd Babel should those men secure , Whose Pride design'd that Fabrick to have stood Above the reach of any second Flood : To thee his Chosen more indulgent , he Dares trust such Power with so much Piety . Of the danger His Majesty ( being Prince ) escaped in the Road at Saint Andrews . Now had his Highness bid farewel to Spain , And reach't the sphere of his own power , the main ; With British bounty in his Ship he Feasts , Th'Hesperian Princes , his amazed guests ; To find that watry Wilderness exceed The entertainment of their great Madrid . Healths to both Kings , attended with the rore Of Cannons eccho'd from th' affrighted shoar , With loud resemblance of his Thunder prove Bacchus the seed of Cloud eompelling Iove . While to his Harp Divine Arion sings The Loves and Conquests of our Albion Kings . Of the fourth Edward was his Noble song ; Fierce , Goodly , Valiant , Beautiful and Young : He rent the Crown from vanquisht Henries head ; Rais'd the white Rose , and trampled on the Red : Till Love triumphing o're the Victor's pride , Brought Mars and Warwick to the Conquer'd side ; Neglected Warwick ( whose bold hand like fate , Gives and resumes the Scepter of our State ) Wooes for his Master , and with double shame , Himself deluded ; mocks the Princely Dame , The Lady Bona ; whom just anger burns ; And Forein War with Civil Rage returns . Ah spare your Sword , where Beauty is to blame ; Love gaveth ' Affront , & must repair the same : ( eyes When France shall boast of her , whose conquering Have made the best of English hearts their prize ; Have power to alter the decrees of Fate , And change again the Counsels of our State. What the Prophetick Muse intends , alone To him that feels the secret Wound , is known . With the sweet sound of this harmonious lay About the Keel delighted Dolphins play ; Too sure a sign of Seas ensuing rage , Which must anon this Royal Troop engage : To whom soft sleep seems more secure and sweet , Within the Town commanded by our Fleet. These mighty Peers plac'd in the gilded Barge , Proud with the burden of so brave a charge : With painted Oars the Youths begin to sweep Neptunes smooth face , and cleave the yielding deep , Which soon becomes the seat of sudden War Between the Wind and Tide , that fiercely jar . As when a sort of lusty Shepherds try Their force at Foot-ball , care of victory Makes them salute so rudely breast to breast . That their Encounters seem too rough for jest : They ply their feet , and still the restless Ball Tost too and fro is urged by them all : So fares the doubtful Barge'twixt Tide and Winds ; And like effect of their contention finds . Yet the bold Britains still securely row'd ; Charles and his Virtue was their sacred load : Than which a greater pledge Heaven could not give , That the good Boat this Tempest should out-live . But storms encrease , and now no hope of grace Among them shines , save in the Princes Face . The rest resign their courage , skill and sight To danger , horror , and unwelcome night . The gentle Vessel , wont with state and pride On the smooth back of Silver Thames to ride , Wanders Astonish'd in the angry main ; As Titans Car did , while the golden rein Fill'd the young hand of his advent ' rous Son , When the whole world an equal hazard run To this of ours ; the light of whose desire Waves threaten now , as that was skar'd by fire . Th' impatient Sea grows impotent and raves , That ( night assisting ) his impetuous waves Should find resistance from so light a thing : These surges ruin , those our safety bring . Th' oppressed Vessel doth the charge abide ; Only because assail'd on every side : So Men with rage and passion set on fire , Trembling for hast , impeach their mad desire . The pale Iberians had expir'd with fear ; But that their wonder did divert their care ; To see the Prince with danger mov'd no more , Than with the Pleasures of their Court before . God-like his courage seem'd , whom nor delight Could soften , nor the face of Death affright : Next to the power of making Tempests cease , Was in that storm to have so calm a peace . Great Maro could no greater Tempest feign ; When the loud Winds usurping on the Main , For angry Iuno , labour'd to destroy The hated reliques of confounded Troy. His bold Aeneas , on like Billows tost , In a tall Ship , and all his Country lost , Dissolves with fear ; and both his hands upheld , Proclaims them happy whom the Greeks had quel'd In Honourable fight : Our Hero set In a small shallop ; fortune in his debt , So near a hope of Crowns and Scepters , more Than ever Priam , when he flourish'd , wore ; His Loyns yet full of ungot Princes , all His Glory in the bud ; lets nothing fall That argues Fear : if any thought annoys The gallant youth , 't is Loves untasted joys , And dear remembrance of that futal glance , For which he lately pawn'd his Heart in France . Where he had seen a brighter Nymph than she That sprung out of his present foe , the Sea. That noble Ardor , more than mortal Fire , The Conquer'd Ocean could not make expire ▪ Nor angry Thetis , raise her waves above Th'Heroick Princes Courage , or his Love ; T was Indignation , and not Fear he felt , The shrine should perish , where that Image dwelt . Ah Love forbid ! the Noblest of thy Train Should not survive to let her know his pain : Who nor his Peril minding , nor his Flame , Is entertain'd with some less serious Game Among the bright Nymphs of the Gallique Court ; All highly born , obsequious to her sport : They Roses seem , which in their early pride , But half reveal , and half their Beauties hide ; She the glad morning , which her beams does throw , Upon their smiling leaves , and gilds them so : Like bright Aurora , whose re●ulgent Ray Foretells the fervor of ensuing day ; And warns the Shepherd with his Flocks retreat To lea●ie shadows , from the threatned heat . From Cupids strings , of many shafts that fled , Wing'd with those plumes which noble fame had shed , As through the wondring world she flew , and told Of his Adventures haughty , brave and bold , Some had already touch'd the Royal Maid ; But love's first summons seldom are obey'd : Light was the Wound ; the Prince's care unknown , She might not , would not yet reveal her own . His glorious name had so possest her ears , That with delight those antique tales she hears Of Iason , Theseus , and such Worthies old , As with his Story best resemblance hold . And now she views , as on the wall it hung , What old Musaus so Divinely sung : Which Art with life and love did so inspire , That she discerns , and favours that desire , Which there provokes th'advent'rous youth to swim , And in Leanders danger pities him : Whose not new love alone , but fortune seeks To frame his story like that amorous Greeks . For from the Stern of some good Ship appears A friendly light , which moderates their fears : New courage from reviving hope they take , And climbing o're the waves , that Taper make ; On which the hope of all their Lives depends ; As his on that fair Hero's hand extends . The Ship at anchor like a fixed Rock Breaks the proud Billows , which her large sides knock ; Whose rage restrained foaming higher swells , And from her Port the weary Barge repels ; Threatening to make her , forced out again , Repeat the dangers of the troubled main . Twice was the Cable hurl'd in vain ; the fates Would not be moved for our Sister States : For England is the third successfull throw , And then the Genius of that Land they know : Whose Prince must be ( as their own Books devise ) Lord of the Scene , where now his danger lies . Well sung the Roman Bard ; all human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings . O see the then sole hope , and in design Of Heaven our joy , supported by a line : Which for that instant was Heaven's care above , The chain that 's fixed to the Throne of Iove ; On which the fabrick of our World depends ; One Link dissolv'd , the whole Creation ends . Of His Majesties receiving the News of the Duke of Buckingham's Death . So earnest with thy God , can no new care , No sense of danger interrupt thy Prayer ? The sacred Wrestler till a blessing given , Quits not his hold , but halting conquers Heav'n : Nor was the stream of thy Devotion stopp'd ; When from the Body such a Limb was lopp'd , As to thy present state was no less maim ; Though thy wise choice has since repair'd the same . Bold Homer durst not so great virtue feign In his best pattern , of Patroclus slain ; With such amazement as weak Mothers use , And frantick gesture , he receives the news : Yet fell his Darling by th' impartial chance Of war , impos'd by Royal Hector's Launce ; Thine in full peace , and by a vulgar hand Torn from thy bosom , left his high command . The famous Painter could allow no place For private sorrow in a Princes face : Yet , that his piece might not exceed belief , He cast a Veil upon supposed grief . 'T was want of such a President as this , Made the old Heathen frame their Gods amiss . Their Phaebus should not act a fonder part For their fair Boy , than he did for his Heart ; Nor blame for Hyacinthus fate his own , That kept from him wish'd death ; hadst thou been known . He that with thine shall weigh good David's deeds , Shall find his Passion , not his Love exceeds . He curst the Mountains where his brave friend dy'd ; But let false Ziba with his Heir divide : Where thy immortal Love to thy best Friends , Like that of Heaven , upon their Seed descends . Such huge extreams inhabit thy great mind : God-like , unmov'd ; and yet like Woman , kind . Which of the ancient Poets had not brought Our Charles His Pedigree from Heaven , and taught How some bright dame comprest by mighty Iove , Produc'd this mixt Divinity and Love ? To the Queen , occasioned upon sight of Her Majesties Picture . WEll fare the hand , which to our humble sight Presents that Beauty , which the dazling Light Of Royal spendor hides from weaker eyes ; And all access ( save by this Art ) denies . Here only we have Courage to behold This Beam of Glory ; here we dare unfold In numbers thus the wonders we conceive : The gracious Image seeming to give leave , Propitious stands , vouchsasing to be seen ; And by our Muse saluted , Mighty Queen , In whom th'extreams of Power and Beauty move ; The Queen of Britain , and the Queen of Love. As the bright Sun ( to which we owe no sight Of equal Glory to your Beauties light ) Is wisely plac'd in so sublime a seat , T' extend his light , and moderate his heat : So happy 't is you move in such a sphear ; As your high Majesty with awful fear , In humane Breasts might qualify that Fire , Which kindled by those Eyes had flamed higher , Than when the scorched World like hazard run , By the approach of the ill guided Sun. No other Nymphs have Title to men's Hearts , But as their Meaness larger hope imparts : Your Beauty more the fondest Lover moves With Admiration , than his private loves ; With Admiration ; for a pitch so high ( save sacred Charles his ) never Love durst fly . Heaven that preferr'd a Scepter to your hand , Favour'd our freedom , more than your command : Beauty had crown'd you , and you must have been The whole Worlds Mistriss , other than a Queen . All had been Rival's ; and you might have spar'd ' Or kill'd and tyranniz'd without a Guard. No power atchiev'd , either by Arms or Birth , Equals love's Empire , both in Heaven and Earth . Such eyes as yours , on Iove himself have thrown As bright and fierce a lightning as his own : Witness our Iove , prevented by their flame In his swift passage to th' Hesperian Dame ; When , like a Lion , finding in his way To some intended spoil , a fairer prey ; The Royal youth pursuing the report Of Beauty , found it in the Gallique Court. There publique care with private passion fought A doubtful combate in his noble thought : Should he confess his greatness , and his love , And the free Faith of your great Brother prove , With his Achates breaking through the cloud Of that disguise which did their Graces shroud , And mixing with those gallants at the Ball , Dance with the Ladies and out-shine them all ; Or on his journey o're the Mountains ride ? So when the fair Leucothoe he espy'd , To check his steeds , impatient Phaebus earn'd ; Though all the world was in his course concern'd . What may hereafter her Meridian do , Whose dawning beauty warm'd his bosome so ? Not so divine a flame , since deathless gods Forbore to visit the defil'd abodes Of men , in any mortal breast did burn ; Nor shall ; till Piety and they return . Vpon His Majesties repairing of Pauls . THat shipwrackt vessel which th'Apostle bore , Scarce suffer'd more upon Melitas shore , Than did his Temple in the Sea of Time ; ( Our Nations Glory , and our Nations crime ) When the first Monarch of this happy Isle , Mov'd with the ruine of so brave a pile , This work of cost and piety begun , To be accomplish'd by his glorious Son ; VVho all that came within the ample thought Of his wise Sire , has to perfection brought . He like Amphion makes those Quarries leap Into fair figures from a confus'd heap : For in his Art of Regiment is found A power , like that of Harmony in sound . Those antique Minstrels sure were Charles-like Kings Cities their Lutes , and Subjects Hearts their Strings , On which with so divine a hand they strook , Consent of motion from their breath they took . So all our minds with his conspire to grace The Gentiles great Apostle , and deface Those State-obscuring sheds , that like a Chain Seem'd to confine and fetter him again ; VVhich the glad Saint shakes off at his command , As once the Viper from his sacred hand : So joys the aged Oak , when we divide The creeping Ivy from his injur'd side . Ambition rather would affect the fame Of some new structure , to have born her name : Two distant Virtues in one act we find , The Modesty and Greatness of his mind ; Which not content to be above the rage And injury of all-impairing age , In its own worth secure , doth higher climb , And things half swallow'd from the jaws of Time Reduce ; an earnest of his grand design To frame no new Church , but the Old refine : Which Spouse-like may W th comely grace command More than by force of argument or hand . For doubtful reason few can apprehend ; And War brings ruin where it should amend : But Beauty with a bloodless conquest , finds A welcome Soveraignty in rudest minds . Not ought which Sheba's wondring Queen beheld Amongst the works of Solomon , excell'd His ships and building ; emblems of a Heart Large both in Magnanimity and Art. While the propitious Heavens this work attend , Long wanted showers they forget to send ; As if they ment to make it understood , Of more importance than our vital food . The Sun which riseth to salute the Quire Already finish'd , setting shall admire How private bounty could so far extend ; The King built all , but Charles the Western end : So proud a Fabrick to Devotion given , At once it threatens and obliges Heaven . Laomedon that had the Gods in pay , Neptune , with him that rules the sacred day , Could no such structure raise ; Troy wall'd so high , Th' Atrides might as well have forc'd the sky . Glad , though amazed , are our neighbour Kings , To see such pow'r employ'd in peaceful things . They lift not urge it to the dreadful field ; The task is easier to destroy , than build . — Sie gratia Regum Pieriis tentata modis . Horat. The Country to my Lady of Carlisle . Madam , OF all the sacred Muse inspir'd , Orpheus alone could with the Woods comply ; Their rude Inhabitants his Song admir'd , And Natures self in those that could not lye . Your Beauty next our Solitude invades , And warms us , Shining through the thickest shades . Nor ought the Tribute , which the wondring Court Pays your fair Eyes , prevail with you to scorn The answer and consent to that report , Which Eccho-like the Country do's return : Mirrors are taught to Flatter , but our Springs Present th' impartial Images of things . A Rural Judge dispos'd of Beauties prize , A simple Shepherd was preferr'd to Iove ; Down to the Mountains from the partial Skies Came Iuno , Pallas , and the Queen of Love , To plead for that , which was so justly given To the bright Carlisle of the Court of Heaven . Carlisle ! a Name which all our Woods are taught , Loud as his Amarillis to re●ound ; Carlisle ! a Name which on the Bark is wrought Of every Tree that 's worthy of the Wound . From Phoebus rage , our Shadows , and our Streams , May guard us better than from Carlisle's Beams . The Countess of Carlisle in Mourning . WHen from black Clouds no part of Sky is clear , But just so much as lets the Sun appear ; Heaven then would seem thy Image , and reflect Those Sable Vestments , and that Bright Aspect . A spark of Virtue by the deepest shade Of sad adversity is fairer made ; Nor less advantage doth thy Beauty get , A Venus rising from a Sea of Jet . Such was th' appearance of new formed Light , While yet it strugled with Eternal night . Then mourn no more ; lest thou admit encrease Of Glory , by thy noble Lords Decease . We find not that the Laughter-loving Dame Mourn'd for Anchises ; 't was enough she came To grace the Mortal with her deathless Bed , And that his living Eyes such Beauty fed : Had she been there , untimely joy through all Mens Hearts diffus'd , had mar'd the Funeral . Those eyes were made to banish grief : as well Bright Phoebus might affect in shades to dwell , As they to put on sorrow ; nothing stands But power to grieve , exempt from thy commands . If thou lament , thou must do so alone ; Grief in thy presence , can lay hold on none . Yet still persist the memory to love Of that great Mercury of our mighty Iove , Who by the power of his enchanting tongue , Swords from the hands of threatning Monarchs wrung . War he prevented , or soon made it cease , Instructing Princes in the Arts of Peace : Such as made Sheba'scurious Queen resort To the large-hearted Hebrews Famous Court. Had Homer sat amongst his wondring guests , He might have learn'd at those stupendous Feasts , With greater Bounty , and more sacred State The Banquets of the Gods to celebrate . But O! what Elocution might he use , What potent Charms that could so soon infuse His absent Masters love into the Heart Of Henrietta , forcing her to part From her lov'd Brother , Country , and the Sun , And like Camilla O're the waves to run Into his arms ; while the Parisian Dames Mourn for their Ravish't glory : at their flames No less amaz'd , than the amazed Stars , When the bold Charmer of Thessalian Wars With Heaven it self , and numbers does repeat Which call descending Cynthia from her Seat. In answer to one who Writ against a fair Lady . WHat Fury has provok't thy wit to dare With Diomede , to wound the Queen of Love , Thy Mistriss's Envy , or thine own Despair ? Not the just Pallas in thy Breast did move So blind a Rage , with such a different Fate ; He Honour won , where thou hast purchast Hate . She gave assistance to his Trojan Foe ; Thou that without a Rival thou mayest love , Dost to the Beauty of this Lady owe , While after her the Gazing world does move . Canst thou not be content to Love alone , Or is thy Mistress not content with one ? Hast thou not read of fairy Arthurs shield , Which but disclos'd , amaz'd the weaker eyes Of proudest Foes , and won the doubtful Field ? So shall thy Rebel wit become her prize . Should thy Iambicks swell into a Book , All were confuted with one Radiant look . Heav'n he oblig'd that plac'd her in the skies , Rewarding Ph●ebus , for inspiring so His noble Brain , by likening to those Eyes His joyful Beams : but Phoebus is thy Foe , And neither aids thy Fancy nor thy Sight ; So ill thou Rim'st against so fair a Light. On my Lady Dorothy Sidneys Picture . SUch was Philoclea , such Mucidorus Flame ; The matchless Sidney that immortal Frame Of perfect Beauty on two Pillars plac't : Not his high Fancy could one pattern grac't With such extremes of Excellence compose , Wonders so distant in one Face disclose : Such cheerful Modesty , such humble State , Moves certain Love , but with a doubtful Fate : As when beyond our Greedy reach we see , Inviting Fruit on too sublime a Tree . All the rich Flow'rs through his Arcadia found , Amaz'd we see , in this one Garland bound . Had but this Copy , which the Artist took From the fair Picture of that noble Book , Stood at Calanders ; the brave friends had jarr'd , And Rivals made , th' ensuing story marr'd . Just nature first instructed by his thought , In his own House thus practis'd what he taught . This glorious piece transcends what he could think ; So much his Blood is nobler than his Ink. To Vandike . RAre Artisan ! whose Pensil moves Not our Delights alone , but Loves From thy Shop of Beauty , we Slaves return , that enter'd free - The heedless Lover does not know Whose Eyes they are that wound him so : But confounded with thy Art , Inquires her name that has his Heart . Another who did long refrain , Feels his Old wound bleed fresh again , With dear remembrance of that Face , Where now he reads new hopes of Grace : Nor Scorn , nor Cruelty does find ; But gladly suffers a false wind To blow the ashes of Despair From the reviving Brand of care : Fool that forgets her stubborn look , This softness from thy finger took . Strange that thy Hand should not inspire The beauty only , but the fire : Not the form alone , and grace , But act and power of a Face . May'st thou yet thy self as well , As all the world besides , excel ; So you th'unseigned Truth rehearse ; That I may make it Live in Verse Why thou couldst not at one assay , That Face to after-times convey , Which this admires ; was it thy wit To make her oft before thee fit ? Confess , and wee 'l Forgive thee this ; For who would not repeat that bliss , And frequent sight of such a Dame , Buy with the hazard of his Fame ? Yet who can tax thy blameless skill , Though thy good hand had failed still ? When Natures self so often errs : She for this many thousand years Seems to have practis'd with much care , To Frame the Race of Women Fair ; Yet never could a perfect Birth Produce before to grace the Earth : Which waxed old , e're it could see Her that amaz'd thy Art and Thee . But now 't is done , O let me know Where those immortal Colours grow , That could this deathless piece compose In Lillies , or the Fading Rose ? No , for this Thest thou hast climb'd higher Than did Promethe●s for his Fire . Of the Lady who can sleep when she pleases . No wonder Sleep from careful Lovers flies To bath himself in Sacharissi's eyes ; As Fair Astrea once from Earth to Heaven By Strife and loud Impiety was driven : So with our Plaints offended and our Tears ; VVise Somnus to that Paradice repairs , VVaits on her VVill and wretches do's forsake To court the Nymph , for whom those wretches wake ! More proud than Phoebus of his Throne of Gold Is the soft God , those softer Limbs to hold ; Nor would exchange with Iove , to hide the Skies In darkning Clouds , the power to close her eyes : Eyes which so far all other Lights controul , They warm our Mortal parts , but these our Soul. Let her free Spirit , whose unconquer'd Breast Holds such deep quiet , and untroubled rest , Know , that though Venus and her Son should spare Her Rebel Heart , and never teach her Care ; Yet Hymen may inforce her vigils keep , And for anothers Joy suspend her Sleep . Of the mis-report of her being Painted . As when a sort of Wolves infest the night With their wild howlings at fair Cynthia's light ; The noise may chase sweet slumber from our eyes , But never reach the Mistris of the Skies : So with the news of Sacharissa's wrongs , Her vexed servants blame those envious tongues ; Call Love to witness , that no painted Fire Can scorch Men so , or kindle such desire : While unconcerned she seems mov'd no more With this new Malice , than our Loves before ; But from the height of her great Mind looks down On both our passions , without Smile or Frown : So little care of what is done below Hath the bright Dame , whom Heaven affecteth so . Paints her , 't is true , with the same hand which spreads Like Glorious Colours through the Flowry Meads ; When lavish Nature with her best Attire Clothes the gay Spring , the season of desire . Paints her , 't is true , and does her Cheek adorn With the same Art wherewith she paints the Morn : With the same Art , wherewith she gildeth so Those painted Clouds which form Thaumantias bow . Of her passing through a crowd of People . AS in old Chaos Heaven with Earth confus'd , And Stars with Rocks , together crush'd and bruis'd ; The Sun his light no further could extend Than the next hill , which on his Shoulders lean'd : So in this throng bright Sacharissa far'd , Oppress'd by those who strove to be her Guard : As Ships though never so obsequious , ●all Foul in a Tempest on their Admiral A greater Favour this disorder brought Unto her Servants , than their awful thought Durst entertain , when thus compell'd they prest The yielding Marble of her snowy Breast . While love insults , disguised in the Cloud , And welcome force of that unruly Croud . So th' amorous Tree , while yet the Air is calm , Just distance keeps from his desired Palm : But when the VVind her ravish't Branches throws Into his Arms , and mingles all their Boughs ; Though loath he seems her tender leaves to press , More loath he is that Friendly storm should cease , From whose rude Bounty , he the double use At once receives , of Pleasure and Excuse . The Story of Phoebus and Daphne applied . THirsis a Youth of the inspired Train , Fair Sacharissa lov'd , but lov'd in vain : Like Phoebus sung the no less amorous Boy ; Like Daphne she as lovely and as Coy : With numbers he the flying Nymph pursues , With numbers such as Phoebus self might use . Such is the chase , when Love and Fancy leads , O're craggy Mountains , and through floury Meads ; Invok'd to testifie the Lover's care , Or form some Image of his cruel fair : Urg'd with his fury like a wounded Deer , O're these he fled , and now approaching near , Had reach't the Nymph with his harmonious lay , Whom all his charms could not incline to stay ; Yet what he sung in his immortal strain , Though unsuccessful , was not sung in vain : All but the Nymph , that should redress his wrong , Attend his passion , and approve his Song . Like Phoebus thus , acquiring unsought praise , He catcht at Love , and fill'd his Arm with Bays . Fabula Phoebi & Daphnis . ARcadiae juvenis Thirsis , Phaebique Sacerdos , Ingenti frustra Sacharissae ardebat amore : Hand Deus ipse olim Daphni m●jora canebat , Nec fuit asperior Daphne , nec pul●hrior illa : Carminibus Phoebo dignis premit ille fugacem Per rupes , per saxa , volans per florida vates Pascua ; formosam nunc his componere Nympham , Nunc illis crudelem insana mente solebat : Audiit illa proculmiserum , ●itheramque sonantem , Audiit , at nullis respectexit mota querelis ; Ne tamen omnino caneret , desertus , ad alta Sidera perculsi , referunt nova carmina montes . Sic non quaesitis cumulatus la●dibus olim Elapsa reperit Daphni sua laurea Phoebus . Of Mrs. Arden . BEhold , and listen , while the fair Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air , And with her own breath fans the Fire VVhich her bright eyes do first inspire . VVhat reason can that Love controul , VVhich more than one way courts the Soul ? So when a flash of Lightning falls On our Abodes , the danger calls For humane Aid , which hopes the Flame To Conquer , though from Heaven it came : But is the Winds with that conspire ; Men strive not , but deplore the Fire . To Amoret . FAir , that you may truly know What you unto Thirsis owe ; I will tell you how I do Sacharissa Love , and you . Joy salutes me , when I set My blest Eyes on Amoret : But with wonder I am strook , When I on the other look . If sweet Amoret complains , I have sense of all her pains ; But for Sacharissa I Do not only Grieve , but Die. All that of my self is mine , Lovely Amoret , is thine ; Sacharissa's Captive fain Would untie his Iron chain ; And those scorching Beams to shun , To thy gentle shadow run . If the soul had free Election To dispose of her affection , I would not thus long have born Haughty Sacharissa's scorn : But 't is sure some power above , VVhich controuls ours VVill in Love. If not Love , a strong desire To create and spread that Fire In my Breast , solicites me Beauteous Amoret , for thee . 'T is Amazement , more than Love , Which her radiant eyes do move ; If less splendor wait on thine , Yet they so benignly shine , I would turn my dazelled sight To behold their milder light . But as hard 't is to destroy That high Flame , as to enjoy : Which , how easily I may do Heaven ( as easily scal'd ) does know . Amoret , as sweet and good As the most delicious Food , Which but tasted , does impart Life and gladness to the Heart : Sacharissa's beautie's Wine , Which to madness doth incline ; Such a Liquor as no Brain That is Mortal , can sustain . Scarce can I to Heaven excuse The Devotion , which I use Unto that adored Dame ; For 't is not unlike the same , VVhich I thither ought to send : So that if it could take end ; 'T would to Heaven it self be due To succeed her , and not you , VVho already have of me All that 's not Idolatry ; VVhich , though not so fierce a Flame , Is longer like to be the same . Then smile on me , and I will prove , Wonder is shorter liv'd than Love. On the Head of a Stag. SO we some antique Hero's strength Learn by his Launces weight and length ; As these vast beams express the beast , VVhose shady brows alive they drest : Such Game , while yet the world was new , The mighty Nimrod did pursue . VVhat Huntsman of our feeble Race , Or Dogs , dare such a Monster chase ? Resembling with each blow he strikes The charge of a whole Troop of Pikes . O fertile Head , which every year Could such a crop of wonder bear ! The teeming earth did never bring So soon , so hard , so hugh a thing ; Which , might it never have been cast , Each years growth added to the last , These lofty Branches had supply'd The Earths bold Son 's prodigious Pride ; Heaven with these Engines had been scal'd , When Mountains heap'd on ▪ Mountains fail'd . To a Lady in a Garden . SEes not my Love , how Time resumes The Glory which he lent these Flow'rs ? Though none should taste of their perfumes , Yet must they live but some few hours ; Time , what we forbear , devours . Had Hellen or th' Egyptian Queen , Been nere so thrifty of their Graces ; Those Beauties must at length have been The spoil of Age , which finds out faces In the most retired places . Should some malignant Planet bring A barren drought , or ceaseless Show'r Upon the Autumn , or the Spring , And spare us neither Fruit nor Flow'r ; Winter would not stay an hour . Could the resolve of Loves neglect Preserve you from the violation Of coming years , then more respect Were due to so Divine a fashion ; Nor would I indulge my passion . The Misers Speech in a Masque . BAlls of this Mettal slack'd Atlanta's pace , And on the Amorous Youth bestow'd the Race Venus , the Nymphs mind measuring by her own , Whom the rich spoils of Cities overthrown Had prostrated to Mars , could well advise Th' adventurous Lover how to gain the prize . Nor less may Iupiter to Gold ascribe ; For when he turn'd himself into a Bribe , Who can blame Danae , or the brazen Tow'r , That they with-stood not that Almighty show'r ? Never till then , did Love make Iove put on A Form more bright , and Nobler than his own : Nor were it just , would he resume that shape , That slack Devotion should his Thunder scape . 'T was not Revenge for griev'd Apollo's wrong , Those Asses ears on Mida's Temples hung : But fond Repentance of his happy wish , Because his Meat grew Mettal like his Dish . Would Bacchus bless me so ; I 'de constant hold Unto my wish , and dye Creating Gold. On the Friendship betwixt two Ladies . TEll me Lovely loving Pair , Why so kind , and so severe ? Why so careless of our care , Only to your selves so dear ? By this cunning change of hearts , You the power of Love controul ; While the Boys deluded Darts , Can arrive at neither soul. For in vain to either Breast Still beguiled Love does come ; Where he finds a forreign Guest , Neither of your hearts at home . Debtors thus with like design , When they never mean to pay ; That they may the Law decline , To some friend make all away . Not the silver Doves that flie , Yoakt in Citharea's Car ; Not the wings that lift so high , And convey her Son so far , Are so Lovely , Sweet , and Fair , Or do more ennoble Love , Are so choicely matcht a pair , Or with more consent do move . Of her Chamber . THey taste of death that do at Heaven arrive ; But we this Paradise approach alive . Instead of Death , the dart of Love does strike , And renders all within these walls alike : The high in Titles , and the Shepheard here , Forgets his Greatness , and forgets his Fear : All stand amaz'd , and gazing on the fair , Loose thought of what themselves , or others are ; Ambition loose , and have no other scope , Save Carlisl●s favour to imploy their hope . The Thracian could ( though all those tales were true The bold Greeks tell ) no greater wonders do ; Before his feet , so Sheep and Lions lay Fearless and wrathless , while they heard him play : The Gay , the Wise , the Gallant , and the Grave , Subdu'd alike , all , but one passion have : No worthy mind , but finds in hers there is Something proportion'd to the rule of his . Whilst she with cheerful , but impartial grace , ( Born for no one , but to delight the race Of men ) like Phoebus , so divides her light , And warms us , that , she stoops not from her height . Of Loving at first sight . NOt caring to observe the Wind , Or the new Sea explore , ●natcht from my self , how far behind , Already I behold the shoar ! ●ay not a thousand dangers sleep 〈◊〉 the smooth bosome of this deep ? ●o : 't is so Rockless and so Clear , ●hat the rich bottom does appear ●av'd all with pretious things , not torn ●●om shipwrackt vessels , but there born . ●weetness , Truth , and every Grace , ●hich time and use are wont to teach , 〈◊〉 eye may in a moment reach , ●nd read distinctly in her face . Someother Nymph with Colours faint , And pensil slow may Cupid paint , And a weak heart in time destroy ; She has a stamp , and prints the Boy , Can with a single look inflame The coldest Breast , the rudest tame . The Self Banished . IT is not that I love you less Than when before your feet I lay : But to prevent the sad encrease Of hopeless Love , I keep away . In vain ( alas ! ) for every thing Which I have known belong to you , Your Form does to my Fancy bring , And makes my old wounds bleed anew . Who in the Spring from the new Sun , Already has a Fever got , Too late begins those shafts to shun , Which Phoebus through his veins has shot ; Too late he would the pain asswage , And to thick shadows does retire ; About with him he bears the rage , And in his tainted bloud the Fire . But vow'd I have , and never must Your banisht servant trouble you ; For if I break , you may mistrust The vow I made to love you too . SONG . GO lovely Rose , Tell her that wastes her time and me , That now she knows , When I resemble her to thee , How sweet and fair she seems to be . Tell her that 's young , And shuns to have her Graces spy'd , That hadst thou sprung In Desarts , where no men abide , Thou must have uncommended dy'd . Small is the worth Of Beauty from the light retir'd ; Bid her come forth , Suffer her self to be desir'd , And not blush so to be admir'd . Then die , that she , The common fate of all things rare , May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share , That are so wondrous sweet and fair . Thirsis , Galatea . Th. AS lately I on Silver Thames did ride , Sad Galatea on the Bank I spy'd : Such was her look as sorrow taught to shine ; And thus she grac'd me with a voice Divine . Gal. You that can tune your sounding strings so well Of Ladies Beauties , and of Love to tell ; Once change your Note , and let your Lute report The justest grief that ever toucht the Court. Th. Fair Nymph , I have in your Delights no share ▪ Nor ought to be concerned in your care : Yet would I sing , if I your sorrows knew , And to my aid invoke no Muse but you . Gal. Hear then , and let your Song augment ou● grief ▪ Which is so great , as not to wish relief : She that had all which Nature gives or Chance , Whom Fortune joyn'd with Virtue to advance , To all the joys this Island could afford , The greatest Mistriss , and the kindest Lord : Who with the Royal mixt her Noble bloud , And in high Grace with Gloriana stood ; Her Bounty , Sweetness , Beauty , Goodness , such , That none e're thought her happiness too much : So well inclin'd her favours to confer , And kind to all , as Heaven had been to her . The Virgins part , the Mother , and the Wife , So well she acted in this span of life , That though few years ( too few alas ! ) she told , She seem'd in all things , but in Beauty , old . As unripe Fruit , whose verdant stalks do cleave Close to the Tree , which grieves no less to leave The smiling pendant which adorns her so , And until Autumn , on the Bough should grow : So seem'd her youthful soul not easily forc't , Or from so fair , so sweet a seat divorc't . Her fate at once did hasty seem and slow , At once too cruel , and unwilling too . Th. Under how hard a Law are Mortals borr Whom now we envy , we anon must mourn : What Heaven sets highest , and seems most to prize , Is soon removed from our wondring eyes . But since the Sisters did so soon untwine So fair a Thread , I 'll strive to piece the line . Vouchsafe sad Nymph to let me know the Dame , And to the Muses I 'll commend her name , Make the wide Countrey eccho to your moan , The listning Trees and savage Mountains groan : What Rocks not moved when the death is sung Of one so good , so lovely , and so young ? Gal. 'T was Hamilton , whom I had nam'd before ; But naming her , Grief lets me say no more . The Battel of the Summer-Islands . Cant. I. What Fruits they have , and how Heaven smiles Vpon those late discovered Isles . AId me Be●●ona , while the dreadful Fight Betwixt a Nation and two Whales I write : Seas stain'd with goar , I sing , advent'rous toyl , And how these Monsters did disarm an Isle . Berm●das wall'd with Rocks , who does not know , That happy Island , where huge Lemons grow , And Orange trees which Golden Fruit do bear , Th'Hesperian Garden boasts of none so fair ? Where shining Pearl , Coral , and many a pound , On the rich Shore , of Amber-greece is found : The lofty Cedar , which to Heaven aspires , The Prince of Trees , is fewel for their Fires : The smoak by which their loaded spits do turn , For ●ncense might , on Sacred Altars burn : Their private Roofs●on od'rous Timber born , Such as might Palaces for Kings adorn . The sweet Palmettas a new B●cchus yield , With Leaves as ample as the broadest shield : Under the shadow of whose friendly Boughs They sit carowsing , where their Liquor grows . Figs there unplanted through the Fields do grow , Such as fierce Cato did the Romans show , With the rare Fruit inviting them to spoil Carthage the Mistriss of so rich a soil . The naked Rocks are not unfruitful there , But at some constant seasons every year , Their barren tops with luscious Food abound , And with the eggs of various Fowls are crown'd : Tobacco is the worst of things , which they To English Land-lords as their Tribute pay : Such is the Mould , that the Blest Tenant feeds On precious Fruits , and pays his Rent in Weeds : With candid Plantines , and the jucy Pine , On choicest Melons and sweet Grapes they dine ; And with Potatoes fat their wanton Swine . Nature these Cates with such a lavish hand Pours out among them , that our courser Land Tastes of that bounty , and does Cloth return , Which not for Warmth , but Ornament is worn : For the kind Spring which but salutes us here , Inhabits there , and courts them all the year : Ripe Fruits and blossoms on the ●ame Trees live ; At once they promise , what at once they give : So sweet the Air , so moderate the Clime ; None sickly lives , or dies before his time . Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncurst , To shew how all things were Created first . The tardy Plants in our cold Orchards plac'd , Reserve their Fruit for the next ages taste : There a small grain in some few Months will be A firm , a lofty , and a spacious Tree : The Palma Christi , and the fair Papah , Now but a seed ( preventing Natures law ) In half the Circle of the hasty year Project a shade , and lovely fruit do wear : And as their Trees in our dull Region set But faintly grow , and no perfection get ; So in this Northern Tract our hoarser Throats Utter unripe and ill-constrained notes : Where the supporter of the Poets style , Phoebus , on them eternally does smile . O how I long ! my careless Limbs to lay Under the Plantanes shade , and all the day With am'rous Airs my fancy entertain , Invoke the Mus●s , and improve my vein ! No passion there in my free breast should move ▪ None but the sweet and best of passions , Love : There while I sing , if gentle Love be by That tunes my Lute , and winds the Strings so high , With the sweet sound of Sacharissa's name , I 'll make the listning Savages grow tame . But while I do these pleasing dreams indite , I am diverted from the promis'd fight . Canto II. Of their alarm , and how their Foes Discovered were , this Canto shows . THough Rocks so high about this Island rise , That well they may the num'rous Turk despise ; Yet is no humane fate exempt from fear , Which shakes their hearts , while through the Isle they hear A lasting noise , as horrid and as loud As Thunder makes , before it breaks the Cloud . Three days they dread this murmur , e're they know From what blind cause th' unwonted sound may grow : At length Two Monsters of unequal size , Hard by the shoar a Fisher-man espies ; Two mighty Whales , which swelling Seas had tost , And left them prisoners on the rocky Coast ; One as a Mountain vast , and with her came ● Cub not much inferior to his Dame : ●ere in a Pool among the Rocks engag'd , ●hey roar'd like Lions , caught in toyls , and rag'd : ●he man knew what they were , who heretofore ●ad seen the like lie murdered on the shore , ●y the wild fury of some Tempest cast ●he fate of ships and shipwrackt men to taste . ●s careless Dames whom Wine and Sleep betray 〈◊〉 frantick dreams their Infants overlay : So there sometimes the raging Ocean fails , And her own brood exposes ; when the Whales Against sharp Rocks like reeling vessels quasht , Though huge as Mountains , are in pieces dasht ; Along the shore their dreadful Limbs lie scatter'd , Like Hills with Earthquakes shaken , torn & shatter'● Hearts sure of Brass they had , who tempted first , Rude Seas that spare not what themselves have nurs● The welcome news through all the Nation sprea● To sudden joy and hope converts their dread . What lately was their publique terror , they Behold with glad eyes as a certain prey ; Dispose already of th'untaken spoil , And as the purchase of their future toil , These share the Bones , and they divide the Oyl ; So was the Huntsman by the Bear opprest , Whose Hide he sold before he caught the Beast . They man their Boats , and all their young men arm With whatsoever may the Monsters harm ; Pikes , Halberts , Spits , and Darts that wound so far , The Tools of Peace , and Instruments of War : Now was the time for vig'rous Lads to show What love or honor could invite them too ; A goodly Theatre where Rocks are round With reverend age , and lovely Lasses crown'd ▪ Such was the Lake which held this dreadful pair Within the bounds of noble Warwicks share : Warwicks bold Earl , than which no title bear● A greater sound among our British Peers ; And worthy he the memory to renew , The fate and honor to that title due ; Whose brave adventures have transferr'd his name , And through the new world spread his growing fame . But how they fought , & what their valour gain'd , Shall in another Canto be contain'd . Canto III. The bloody fight , successless toyl , And how the Fishes sack'd the Isle . THe Boat which on the first assault did go Struck with a harping Iron the younger ●o ; Who when he felt his side so rudely goar'd , Loud as the Sea that nourish't him he roar'd . ●s a broad Bream to please some curious tast , While yet alive in boyling water cast , ●ex't with unwonted heat , boyls , flings about The scorching brass , and hurls the liquor out : So with the barbed Javeling stung , he raves , And scourges with his tayl the suffering waves : Like Spencer's Talus with his Iron flayl , ●e threatens ruin with his pondrous tayl ; Dissolving at one stroke the battered Boat , And down the men fall drenched in the Moat : With every fierce encounter they are forc't To quit their Boats , and fare like men unhorst . The bigger Whale like some huge Carrack lay , Which wanteth Sea room , with her foes to play : Slowly she swims , and when provok'd she wo'd Advance her tail , her head salutes the mud ; The shallow water doth her force infringe , And renders vain her tails impetuous swinge : The shining steel her tender sides receive , And there like Bees they all their weapons leave . This sees the Cub , and does himself oppose Betwixt his cumbred mother and her foes : With desperate courage he receives her wounds , And men and boats his active tayl confounds . Their forces joyn'd , the Seas with billows fill , And make a tempest , though the winds be still . Now would the men with half their hoped prey Be well content , and wish this Cub away : Their wish they have ; he to direct his dam Unto the gap through which they thither came , Before her swims , and quits the hostile Lake , A pris'ner there , but for his mothers sake . She by the Rocks compell'd to stay behind , Is by the vastness of her bulk confin'd . They shout for joy , and now on her alone Their fury falls , and all their Darts are thrown . Their Lances spent ; one bolder than the rest With his broad sword provok'd the sluggish beast : Her oily side devours both blade and heft , And there his Steel the bold Bermudian left . Courage the rest from his example take , And now they change the colour of the Lake : Blood flows in Rivers from her wounded side , As if they would prevent the tardy tide , And raise the flood to that propitious height , As might convey her from this fatal streight . She swims in blood , and blood do's spouting throw To Heaven , that Heaven mens cruelties might know . Their fixed Javelins in her side she wears , And on her back a grove of Pikes appears : You would have thought , had you the monster seen Thus drest , she had another Island been . Roaring she tears the air with such a noise , ( As well resembled the conspiring voice Of routed Armies , when the field is won ) To reach the ears of her escaped son . He ( though a league removed from the fo ) Hastes to her aid ; the pious Trojan so Neglecting for Creusas life his own , Repeats the danger of the burning Town . The men amazed blush to see the seed Of monsters , human piety exceed : Well proves this kindness what the Grecians sung , That Loves bright mother from the Ocean sprung . Their courage droops , and hopeless now they wish For composition with th'unconquer'd fish : So she their weapons would restore again , Through Rocks they 'd hew her passage to the main . But how instructed in each others mind , Or what commerce can men with monsters find ? Not daring to approach their wounded foe , Whom her couragious son protected so ; They charge their Muskets , and with hot desire Of full revenge , renew the fight with fire : Standing a looff , with lead they bruise the scales , And tear the flesh of the incensed Whales . But no success their fierce endeavours found , Nor this way could they give one fatal wound . Now to their Fort they are about to send For the loud Engines which their Isle defend . But what those pieces from'd to batter walls Would have effected on those mighty Whales , Great Neptune will not have us know , who sends A tyde so high , that it relieves his friends . And thus they parted with exchange of harms ; Much blood the Monsters lost , and they their Arms. SONG . PEace , babling Muse , I dare not sing what you indite ; Her eyes refuse To read the passion which they write ; ●he strikes my Lute , but if it sound , Threatens to hurl it on the ground : And I no less her anger dread , ●han the poor wretch that feigns him dead , ●hile some fierce Lion does embrace ●is breathless corps , and licks his face ; Wrap't up in silent fear he lies , Torn all in pieces if he cries . Of Love. ANger in hasty words or blows , It self discharges on our foes , And sorrow too finds some relief , In tears which wait upon our grief : So every passion , but fond Love , Unto its own redress does move ; But that alone the wretch inclines To what prevents his own designs ; Makes him lament , and sigh , and weep , Disordred , tremble , fawn and creep ; Postures which render him despis'd , Where he endeavours to be priz'd . For women , born to be controul'd , Stoop to the forward and the bold , Affect the haughty and the proud , The gay , the frollick , and the loud . Who first the gen'rous Steed opprest , Not kneeling did salute the beast ; But with high courage , life and force Approaching , tam'd th' unruly horse . Unwisely we the wiser East Pity , supposing them opprest With Tyrants force , whose law is will , By which they govern , spoyl and kill : Each Nymph but moderately fair , Commands with no less Rigor here . Should some brave Turk , that walks among His twenty Lasles bright and young , And beckens to the willing Dame Preferr'd to quench his present flame , Behold as many Gallants here , With modest guise , and silent fear , All to one Female Idol bend , Whilest her high pride does scarce descend To mark their follies , he would swear That these her guard of Eunuchs were ; And that a more Majestique Queen , Or humbler slaves he had not seen . All this with indignation spoke , In vain I strugled with the yoke Of mighty love ; that conquering look , When next beheld , like lightning strook My blasted soul , and made me bow Lower than those I pitied now . So the tall Stag upon the brink Of some smooth stream about to drink , Surveying there , his armed head , With shame remembers that he fled The scorned dogs , resolves to try The combat next ; but if their cry Invades again his trembling ear , He straight resumes his wonted care ; Leaves the untasted Spring behind , And wing'd with fear , out-flies the wind . To Phillis . PHillis , why should we delay Pleasures shorter than the day ? Could we ( which we never can ) Stretch our lives beyond their span ; Beauty like a shadow flies , And our youth before us dies ; Or would youth and beauty stay , Love hath wings , and will away . Love hath swifter wings than Time ; Change in love to Heaven does clime . Gods that never change their state , Vary oft their love and hate . Phillis , to this truth we owe , All the love betwixt us two : Let not you and I require , What has been our past desire ; On what Shepherds you have smil●d , Or what Nymphs I have beguil'd ; Leave it to the Planets too , What we shall hereafter do ; For the joys we now may prove , Take advice of present love . To Phillis . PHillis , 't was love that injur'd you , And on that Rock your Thirsis threw , Who for proud Caelia could have dy'd , Whilst you no less accus'd his pride . Fond Love his darts at random throws , And nothing springs from what he sows : ●rom foes discharg'd as often meet The shining points of Arrows fleet , In the wide air creating fire , As souls that joyn in one desire . Love made the lovely Venus burn In vain , and for the cold youth mourn ▪ Who the pursuit of churlish Beasts , Preferr'd to sleeping on her Brests . Love makes so many hearts the prize , Of the bright Carliles conquering eyes , Which she regards no more than they , The tears of lesser beauties weigh : So have I seen the lost Clouds pour , Into the Sea a useless shower , And the vext Sailors curse the rain , For which poor Shepherds pray'd in vain . Then Phillis , since our passions are Govern'd by chance , and not the care But sport of Heaven , which takes delight To look upon this Parthian flight Of Love , still flying or in chase , Never incountring face to face ; No more to love we 'll sacrifice , But to the best of Deities ; And let our hearts which love disjoyn'd , By his kind Mother be combin'd . SONG . WHile I listen to thy voice , ( Chloris ) I feel my life decay , That powerful noise Calls my flitting soul away . Oh! suppress that Magick sound , Which destroys without a wound . Peace Chloris , peace , or singing die ; That together you and I , To Heaven may go : For all we know , Of what the blessed do above , Is , that they sing , and that they love . SONG . STay Phoebus , stay , The world to which you flie so fast , Conveying day From us to them , can pay your hast , With no such object , nor salute your rise With no such wonder , as de Mornay's eyes . Well do's this prove , The error of those antique books , Which made you move , About the world ; her charming looks Would fix your beams , and make it ever day , Did not the rowling Earth snatch her away . To Amoret . AMoret , the milky way , Fram'd of many nameless stars , The smooth stream where none can say , He this drop to that prefers ; Amoret , my lovely foe , Tell me where thy strength does lie ; Where the power that charms us so , In thy Soul , or in thy eye ? By that snowy neck alone , Or thy grace in motion seen , No such wonders could be done : Yet thy wast is streight and clean , As Cupids shafr , or Hermas rod , And powerful too , as either God. To my Lord of Falkland . BRave Holland leads , & with him Falkland goes : Who hears this told , and does not straight suppose We send the Graces and the Muses forth , To Civilize , and to instruct the North ? Not that these ornaments make swords less sharp ; Apollo bears as well his Bow as Harp ; And though he be the Patron of that Spring , Where in calm peace the Sac●ed Virgins sing , He courage had to guard th'invaded Throne Of Love , and cast th' ambitious ●iants down . Ah ( noble Friend ) with what impatience all That know thy worth , and know how prodigal Of thy great Soul thou art , longing to twist Bays with that Ivy , which so early kist ▪ 〈…〉 Thy youthful Temples , with what horror we Think on the blind events of war and thee ? To Fate exposing that all-knowing breast , Among the throng as cheaply as the rest : Where Oaks and Brambles ( if the Cops be burn●● Confounded lie to the same Ashes turn'd . Some happy wind over the Ocean blow This Tempest yet , which frights our Island so ▪ Guarded with Ships , and all the Sea our own , From Heaven this mischief on our heads is thrown . In a late Dream the Genius of this Land , Amaz'd , I saw , like the fair Hebrew stand , When first she felt the Twins begin to jar , And found her womb the feat of Civil War : Inclin'd to whose relief , and with presage Of better for●un● for the present age , Heav'n sends , quoth I , this discord for our good , To warm , perhaps , but not to waste our bloud , To raise our drooping spirits , grown the scorn Of our proud neighbours , who ere long shall mourn , ( Though now they joy in our expected harms ) We had occasion to resume our Arms. A Lion so with self provoking smart , His rebel tail scourging his Nobler part , Calls up his courage , then begins to roar , And charge his foes , who thought him mad before . For Drinking of Healths . LEt Bruits and Vegetals , that cannot think , So far as drought and nature urges , drink : A more indulgent Mistriss guides our sprights , Reason , that dares beyond our appetites ; She would our Care as well as Thirst redress , And with Divinity rewards excess : Deserted Ariadne thus supply'd ▪ Did perjur'd Theseus cruelty deride ; Bacchus imbrac'd , from her exalted thought Banish'd the man , her passion , and his fault . Bacchus and Phoebus are by Iove ally'd , And each by others timely heat supply'd : All that the Grapes owe to his ripening fires , Is paid in numbers which their jucie inspires . Wine fills the Veins , and healths are understood , To give our Friends a Title to our Blood : Who naming me , doth warm his courage so , Shews for my sake what his bold hand would do . On my Lady Isabella playing on the Lute . SUch moving sounds , from such a careless touch So unconcern'd her self , and we so much ! What Art is this , that with so little pains Transports us thus , and o●r our spirit reigns ? The trembling strings about her fingers crow'd , And tell their Joy for every kiss aloud ▪ Small force there needs to make them tremble so , Touch't by that hand who would not tremble too ? Here Loves takes stand , and while she charms the ear , Empties his quiver on the listning Deer ; Musick ●o softens and disarms the mind , That not an Arrow does resistance find . Thus the fair Tyrant celebrates the prize , And acts her self the triumph of her eyes . So Nero once , with Harp in hand survey'd His flaming Rome , and as it burnt he play'd . To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing . CHloris your self you so excel When you vouchsafe to breath my thought , That like a spirit with this spell Of my own teaching I am caught . That Eagles fate , and mine are one , Which on the shaft that made him die , Espy'd a feather of his own Wherewith he wont to soar so high . Had Eccho with so sweet a grace , Narcissus's loud complaints return'd , Not for reflexion of his face , But of his voice the Boy had burn'd . Of the marriage of the Dwarfs . DEsign or chance makes other wive , But Nature did this Match contrive ; Eve might as well have Adam fled , As she deny'd her little Bed To him , for whom Heaven seem'd to frame , And measure out this only Dame. Thrice happy is that humble pair Beneath the level of all care ; Over whose heads those Arrows flie Of sad distrust and Jealousie ; Secured in as high extream , As if the world held none but them . To him the fairest Nymphs do show Like moving Mountains topt with snow ; And every Man a Polyph●me Does to his Galatea seem ; None may presume her faith to prove , He profers Death that profers Love. Ah ( Chloris ) that kind nature thus From all the world had server'd us , Creating for our selves us two , As Love has me for only you . Loves farewel . TReading the path to Nobler ends , A long farewel to Love I gave ; Resolv'd my Country and my Friends All that remain'd of me should have ; And this Resolve no mortal Dame , None but those eyes could have o'rthrown . The Nymph , I dare not , need not name , So high , so like her self alone . Thus the tall Oak which now aspires Above the fear of private Fires , Grown and design'd for nobler use , Not to make warm , but build the hou●e , Though from our meaner flames secure , Must that which falls from Heaven indure . From a Child . Madam , AS in some Climes the warmer Sun Makes it full Summer e're the Spring 's begun ' And with ripe fruit the bending boughs can load , Before our Violets dare look abroad : So measure not by any common use , The early Love your brighter eyes produce . When lately your fair hand in womens weed , Wrap't my glad head , I wish't me so indeed , That h●sty time might never make me grow Out of those favours you afford me now ; That I might ever such indulgence sind , And you not blush , or think your self too kind , Who now I fear while I these joys express , Begin to think how you may make them less ; The sound of Love makes your soft heart afraid , And guard it self , though but a Child invade , And innocently at your white brest throw A Dart as white , a Ball of new faln snow . On a Girdle . THat which her ●lender waste confin'd , Shall now my joyful Temples bind ; No Monarch but would give his Crown , His Arms might do what this has done . It was my Heaven's extreamest Sphear , The Pale which held that lovely Dear ; My Joy , my Grief , my Hope , my Love , Did all within this Circle move . A narrow compass , and yet there Dwelt all that 's good , and all that 's fair : Give me but what this Riban bound , Take all the rest the Sun goes round . The Apology of Sleep . For not approaching the Lady , who can do ▪ any thing but sleep when she pleaseth , MY charge it is those breaches to repair Which nature takes from sorrow , toil and care ▪ Rest to the Limbs , and quiet I confer On troubled minds ; but nought can add to her , Whom Heaven and her transcendent thoughts have plac'd Above those ills , which wretched Mortals taste . Bright as the deathless gods , and happy She , From all that may infringe delight , is free ▪ Love at her Royal Feet his quiver lays , And not his Mother with more haste obeys . Such real pleasures , such true joys suspence , What Dream can I present to recompense ? Should I with lightning fill her awful hand , And make the Clouds seem all at her command ; Or place her in Olympus top , a guest Among th'immortals , who with Nectar feast : That power would seem , that entertainment short Of the true splendor of her present Court ; Where all the Joys and all the Glories are Of three great Kingdoms , sever'd from the care . I that of ●umes and humid vapours made , Ascending do the seat of sense invade , No Cloud in so serene a Mansion find , To over-cast her ever-shining mind ; Which holds resemblance with those spotless Skies , Where flowing Nilus want of Rain supplies ; That Christal Heaven , where Phoebus never shrouds His golden beams , nor wraps his Face in Clouds . But what so hard which numbers cannot force ▪ So stoops the Moon , and Rivers change their course : The bold Maeonian made me dare to steep Ioves dreadful Temples in the dew of sleep . And since the Muses do invoke my power , I shall no more decline that Sacred Bower , Where Gloriana th●ir great Mistriss lies , But gently taming those victorious Eyes , Charm all her senses ; till the joyful Sun Without a Rival half his course has run : Who , while my hand that fairer light confines , May boast himself the brightest thing that shines . At Pens-hurst . WHile in the Park I sing , the listning Deer Attend my passion , and forget to fear . When to the Beeches I report my flame , They bow their Heads as if they felt the same : To Gods appealing , when I reach their bowrs With loud complaints , they answer me in showrs ▪ To thee a wild and cruel Soul is given , More deaf than Trees , and prouder than the Heav'n . Loves ●oe profest , why dost thou falsly ●eign Thy self a Sidney ▪ from which Noble strain He sprung , that could so far exalt the name Of Love , and warm our Nation with his Flame , That all we can of Love or high desire , Seems but the smoak of am'rous Sidneys fire . Nor call her Mother , who so well do's prove , One breast may hold both Chastity and Love. Never can she , that so exceeds the Spring In Joy and Bounty , be suppos'd to bring One so destructive ; to no humane stock We owe this fierce unkindness , but the Rock , That cloven Rock produc'd thee , by whose side Nature to recompence the fatal pride Of such stern Beauty , plac'd those healing springs , Which not more help , than that destruction brings . Thy heart no ruder than the rugged stone , I might ●ike Orpheus with my numerous moan Melt to compassion ; now my trait●●ous song , With thee conspires to do the Singer wrong ▪ While 〈◊〉 I suffer not my self to lose The memory of what augments my woes ▪ But with my own breath still foment the Fire , Which flames as high as fancy can aspire . This last complaint th'indulgent ears did pierce Of just Apollo , President of Verse : Highly concerned , that the Muse should bring Damage to one whom he had taught to sing ; Thus he advis'd me , on yo● aged Tree , Hang up thy Lute , and hye thee to the Sea , That there with wonders thy diverted mind Some truce at least may with this passion find . Ah cruel Nymph ! from whom her humble Swai● Flies for relief unto the raging Main ; And from the Winds and Tempests do's expect A milder fate , than from her cold neglect : Yet there he 'll pray that the unkind may prove Blest in her choice ; and vows this endless Love Springs from no hope of what she can confer , But from those gifts which Heav'n has heap'd on her . Another . HAd Sacharissa liv'd when Mortals m●de Choice of their Deities , this Sacred shade Had held an Altar to her power , that gave The Peace and Glory which these allays have : Embroidred so with Flowers where she stood , That it became a Garden of a Wood : Her presence has such more than humane Grace , That it can civilize the rudest place ; And beauty too , and order can impart , Where Nature ne'r intended it , nor Art. The Plants acknowledge this , and her admire No less than those of old , did Orpheus's Lire : If she sit down , with tops all towards her bow'd , They round about her into Arbors crowd ; Or if she walk , in even ranks they stand , Like some well-Marshall'd and obsequious band . Amphion so made stones and timber leap Into fair Figures from a confus'd heap : And in the symmetry of her parts is found A power , like that of harmony in sound . Ye lofty Beeches , tell this matchless Dame , That if together ye fed all one Flame , It could not equalize the hundredth part Of what her Eyes have kindled in ●y heart . Go Boy , and carve this passion on the Bark Of yonder Tree , which stands the sacred mark Of Noble Sidneys birth ; when such benign , Such more than-mortal making stars did shine ; That there they cannot but for ever prove The monument and pledge of humble Love : His humble Love , whose hope shall ne'r rise higher Than for a pardon that he dares admire . To my Lord of Leicester . NOt that thy Trees at Pens-hurst groan Oppressed with their timely load , And seem to make their silent moan , That their great Lord is now abroad : They to delight his tast or eye , Would spend themselves in fruit , and dye . Not that thy harmless Deer repine , And think themselves unjustly slain By any other hand than thine , Whose Arrows they would gladly stain : No , nor thy friends which hold too dear That peace with France , which keeps thee there . All these are less than that great cause , Which now exacts your presence here , Wherein there meet the divers Laws Of publick and domestick care . For one bright Nymph our youth contends ▪ And on your prudent choice depends . Not the bright shield of Thetis's Son , For which such stern debate did rise , That the Great Ajax Telamon Refus'd to live without the Prize , Those Achive Peers did more engage , Than she the gallants of our age . That beam of Beauty which begun To warm us so when thou wert here , Now scorches like the raging Sun When Syrius does first appear . O fix this Flame , and let despair Redeem the rest from endless care ! To a very young Lady . WHy came I so untimely forth Into a world , which wanting thee Could entertain us with no worth Or shadow of felicity ? That time should me so far remove From that which I was born to love . Yet fairest blossom do not slight That age which you may know so soon ; The Rosie Morn resigns her light , And milder Glory to the Noon : And then what wonders shall you do , Whose dawning Beauty warms us so ? Hope waits upon the flowry prime , And Summer though it be less gay , Yet is not lookt on as a time Of declination or decay . For with a full hand That does bring All that was promis'd by the Spring ▪ SONG . SAy lovely dream , where couldst thou find Shadows to counterseit that face ? Colours of this ●lorious kind , Come not from any mortal place . 〈◊〉 Heaven it self thou sure wer't drest With that Angel-like disguise ; Thus deluded am I blest , And see my joy with closed Eyes . But ah this Image is too kind To be other than a dream ! Cruel Sacharissa's Mind Never put on that sweet extreme . Fair dream , if thou intend'st me grace , Change that Heavenly face of thine ; Paint despis'd Love in thy face , And make it to appear like mine . Pale , Wan , and Meager let it look , With a pity-moving shape , Such as wander by the Brook Of Lethe , or from graves escape . Then to that matchless Nymph appear , In whose shape thou shinest so , Softly in her sleeping ear , With humble words express my wo. Perhaps from Greatness , State , and Pride , Thus surprised she may fall : Sleep does disproportion hide , And death resembling equals all . SONG . BEhold the brand of Beauty tost ; See how the motion does dilate the Flame : Delighted Love his spoils does boast , And triumph in this game . Fire to no place confin'd , Is both our wonder and our fear , Moving the mind , As Lightning hurled through the Air. High Heaven the Glory does encrease Of all her shining lamps this artful way ; The Sun in Figures such as these Joys with the Moon to play . To the sweet strains they advance , Which do result from their own spheres ; As this Nymphs dance , Moves with the numbers which she hears . On the discovery of a Ladies Painting . PIgmaleons fate reverst is mine . His marble Love took flesh and Bloud ; All that I worshipt as Divine , That Beauty now 't is understood , Appears to have no more of life Than that whereof he fram'd his Wife . As Women yet who apprehend Some sudden cause of causeless fear , Although that seeming cause take end , And they behold no danger near , A shaking through their Limbs they find , Like leaves saluted by the wind : So though the Beauty do appear No Beauty , which amaz'd me so ; Yet from my breast I cannot tear The passion which from thence did grow , Nor yet out of my fancy rase The print of that supposed face . A real Beauty , though too near , The fond Narcissus did admire ; I dote on that which is no where , The sign of Beauty feeds my fire : No mortal Flame was e're so cruel As this , which thus survives the fuel . To a Lady from whom he received a Silver Pen. Madam , INtending to have try'd The silver Favour which you gave , In Ink the shining point I dy'd , And drench'd it in the sable wave : When griev'd to be so foully stain'd . On you it thus to me complain'd . Suppose you had deserv'd to take From her fair hand so fair a boon ; Yet how deserved I to make So ill a change , who ever won Immortal praise for what I wrought , Instructed by her Noble thought ? I that expressed her commands To mighty Lords and Princely Dames , Always most welcome to their hands , Proud that I would record their names , Must now be taught an humble stile Some meaner Beauty to beguile . So I , the wronged Pen to please , Make it my humble thanks express Unto your Ladyship in these : And now 't is forced to confess , That your great self did nere indite , Nor that to one more Noble write . On a Brede of divers Colours , woven by four Ladies . TWice Twenty slender Virgin fingers twine This curious Web , where all their fancies shine ; As Nature Them , so They this shade have wrought Soft as their hands , and various as their thought . Not Iuno's Bird , when his fair train dispread , He wooes the Female to his painted bed ; No not the bow which so adorns the Skies , So Glorious is , or boasts so many dies . To my Lord of Northumberland upon the death of his Lady . TO this great loss a Sea of Tears is due ; But the whole debt not to be paid by you : Charge not your self with all , nor render vain Those show'rs the eyes of us your servants rain . Shall grief contract the largeness of that heart , In which nor fear nor anger has a part ? Virtue would blush , if time should boast ( which dries Her sole child dead , the tender Mothers eyes ) Your minds relief , where reason triumphs so Over all passions , that they ne'r could grow Beyond their limits in your Noble breast , To harm another , or impeach your rest . This we observ'd , delighting to obey One who did never from his great self stray : Whose mild example seemed to engage Th' obsequious Seas , and teach them not to rage . The brave Emilius , his great charge laid down , ( The force of Rome , and fate of Macedon ) In his lost sons did feel the cruel stroke Of changing fortune , and thus highly spoke Before Romes people : we did oft implore That if the Heav'ns had any bad in store For your Emilius , they would pour that ill On his own house , and let you flourish ●till . You on the barren Seas ( my Lord ) have spent , Whole Springs and Summers , to the publick lent : Suspended all the pleasures of your life , And shortned the short joy of such a wife : For which your Countrey 's more obliged , then For many lives of old , less-happy men . You that have sacrific'd so great a part Of Youth and private bliss , ought to impart Your sorrow too , and give your friends a right As well in your Affliction , as Delight : Then with Emilian courage bear this cross , Since publick persons only publick loss Ought to affect : and though her form and youth , Her application to your Will and Truth , That Noble Sweetness , and that humble State All snatch'd away by such a hasty fate , Might give excuse to any common Breast , With the huge weight of so just grief opprest ; Yet let no portion of your life be stain'd With passion , but your character maintain'd To the last Act ; it is enough her Stone May honoured be with Superscription Of the sole Lady , who had power to move The Great Northumberland to grieve and love . To my Lord Admiral of his late Sickness and Recovery , WIth joy like ours , the Thracian youth invades Orpheus returning from th' Elizian shades , Embrace the Hero , and his stay emplore , Make it their publick suit , he would no more Desert them so , and for his Spouses sake , His vanisht Love , tempt the Lethean Lake : The Ladies too , the brightest of that time , Ambitious all his lofty bed to clime , Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed , Who shall the fair Euridice succeed ▪ Euridice , for whom his num'rous moan Makes listning Trees , and salvage Mountains groan : Through all the Air his sounding strings dilate Sorrow , like that which touch'd our hearts of late● Your piing sickness , and your restless pain , At once the Land affecting , and the Main : When the glad news that you were Admiral , Scarce through the Nation , spread , 't was fear'd by all , That our Great Charles , whose wisdom shines in you , Would be perplexed how to chuse a new . So more than private was the joy and grief , That at the worst , it gave our souls relief : That in our age such sense of virtue liv'd , They joy'd so justly , and so justly griev'd . Nature , ( her fairest lights eclipsed , ) seems Her self to suffer in those sharp extremes : While not from thine alone thy blood retires , But from those cheeks which all the world admires ▪ The stemm thus threatned , and the sap in thee , Droop all the branches of that noble Tree : Their Beauty they , and we our Loves suspend , Nought can our wishes , save thy health intend ▪ As Lillies overcharg'd with Rain they bend Their beauteous heads , & with high Heaven contend ; Fold thee within their snowy Army , and cry He is too faultless and too young to die : So like immortals round about thee they Si● , that they fright approaching death away : Who would not languish by so fair a train , To be lamented and restor'd again ? Or thus with-held , what hasty soul would go , Though to be blest ? o're her Adonis so Fair Venus mourn'd , and with the precious showr Of her warm tears cherisht the springing Flow'r . The next support fair hope of your great name , And second pillar of that Noble frame , By loss of thee would no advantage have , But step by step pursues thee to the grave . And now relentless fate , about to end The line which back ward does so far extend , That antick stock which still the world supplies With bravest Spirits , and with brightest Eyes , Kind Phoebus interposing , bid me say Such storms no more shall shake that house , but they Like Neptune , and his Sea-born Neece , shall be The shining Glories of the Land and Sea : With Courage guard , and Beauty warm our age , And Lovers fill , with like Poetick rage . Ala Malade . AH lovely Amoret , the care Of all that know what 's good or fair , Is Heaven become our Rival too ? Had the rich gifts conferr'd on you , So ample thence the common end Of giving Lovers , to pretend . Hence to this pining sickness ( meant To weary thee to a consent Of leaving us ) no power is given , Thy Beauties to impair ; for Heaven Sollicites thee with such a care , As Roses from their stalks we tear , When we would still preserve them new , And fresh as on the bush they grew . With such a Grace you entertain , And look with such contempt on pain , That languishing you conquer more , And wound us deeper than before . So lightnings which in storms appear ▪ Scorch more than when the Skies are clear . And as pale sickness does invade Your frailer part , the breaches made In that fair Lodging , still more clear Make the bright guest your soul , appear . So Nymphs o're pathless Mountains born , Their light Robes by the Brambles torn From their fair Limbs , exposing new And unknown Beauties to the view Of following gods , increase their flame , And haste to catch the flying Game . Of the Queen . THe Lark that shuns on losty boughs to build ; Her humble Nest , lies silent in the Field ; But if the promise of a cloudless day , Aurora smiling , bids her rise and play , Then straight she shews , 't was not for want of voic● Or power to climb , she made so low a choice : Singing she mounts , her airy wings are stretcht Towards Heaven , as if from Heaven her note she fetch So we retiring from the busie throng , Use to restrain th' ambition of , our Song ; But since the light which now informs our age Breaks from the Court indulgent to her r●ge , Thither my Muse , like bold Promethe●s , flies● To light her Torch at Gloriana's eyes . Those Sovereign beams , which heal the wounded soul And all our cares but once beheld controul ; There the poor Lover that has long , endur'd Some proud Nymphs scorn , of his fond passion cur'd Fares like the man who first upon the ground A glow worm spy'd supposing he had found A moving Diamond , a breathing Stone ( For life it had , and like those Jewels shone : ) He held it dear , till by the springing day . ●nform'd , he threw the worthless worm away . She saves the Lover as we Gangreens stay , By cutting hope , like a Iopt Limb , away : This makes her bleeding patients to accuse High Heaven , and these expostulations use : Could Natu●e then no private Woman grace ( Whom we might dare to love ) with such a face , Such a complexion , and so radiant eyes , Such lovely motion , and such sharp replies ? Beyond our reach , and yet within our sight , What envious power has plac'd this glorious light ? Thus in a Starry night fond Children cry For the rich spangles that adorn the Skie ; Which though they shine for ever fixed there , With light and influence relieve us here . All her affections are to one enclin'd , Her bounty and compassion to Mankind : To whom while she so far extends her grace , She makes but good the promise of her face : For Mercy has ( could Mercies self be seen ) No sweeter look than this propitious Queen ; Such guard and comfort the distressed find From her large power , and from her larger mind , That whom ill fate would ruine , it prefers , For all the Miserable are made hers . So the fair Tree whereon the Eagle builds , Poor Sheep from tempests , & their Shepherds shields : The Royal Bird possesses all the bows , But shade and shelter to the Flock allows . Joy of our age , aud safety of the next , For which so oft thy ●ertile Womb is vext : Nobly contented , for the publick good To waste thy spirits and diffuse thy blood : What vast hopes may these Islands entertain , Where Monarchs thus descended are to reign ? Led by Commanders of so fair a Line , Our Seas no longer shall our power confine . A brave Romance who would exactly frame , First brings his Knight from some immortal Dame ▪ And then a weapon , and a flaming shield , Bright as his mothers eyes , he makes him wield . None might the mother of Achilles be , But the fair Pearl , and glory of the Sea ; The man to whom great Maro gives such fame From the high bed of heavenly Venus came ; And our next Charles , ( whom all the stars design Like wonders to accomplish ) springs from thine . Vpon the Death of my Lady Rich. MAY those already curst ●ssexian plains , Where hasty death and pining sickness reign● Prove all a Desart , and none there make stay , But ●●v●ge Beast , or men as wilde as they . There the fair light which all our Island grac'd , Like Hero's Taper in the window plac'd , Such fate from the malignant air did find , As that exposed to the boisterous wind . Ah cruel Heaven ● to snatch so soon away Her , for whose life had we had time to pray , With thousand vows and tears we should have sought That sad decrees suspension to have wrought . But we ( alass ) no whisper of her pain Heard , till 't was sin to wish her here again . That horrid word at once like Lightning spread , Strook all our ears , The Lady Rich is dead . Heart rending news , and dreadful to those few Who her resemble , and her steps pursue . That death should license have to rage among The fair , the wife , the vertuous , and the young ! The Paphiam Queen from that sierce battle born , With goared hand and veil so rudely torn , Like terror did among th'immortals breed , Taught by her wound that Goddesses may bleed . All stand amazed , but beyond the rest Th'heroique Dame whose happy womb she blest , Mov'd with just grief expostulates with Heaven , Urging the promise to the obsequious given , Of longer life ; for ne'r was pious Soul More apt t' obey , more worthy to controul . A skilful Eye at once might read the Race Of Caledonian Monarchs in her Face , And sweet Humility ; her look and mind , At once were losty , and at once were kind . There dwelt the sorn of Vice , and pity too , For those that did what she disdain'd to do : So gentle and severe , that what was bad At once her hatred and her pardon had . Gracious to all , but where her Love was due , So fast , so Faithful , Loyal , and so True , That a bold hand as soon might hope to force . The rouling lights of Heaven , as change her course . Some happy Angel , that beholds her there , Instruct us to record what she was here : And when this cloud of sorrow 's over-blown , Through the wide world we 'l make her graces known . So fresh the wound is , and the grief so vast , That all our Art and Power of speech is waste : Here passion sways ; but there the Muse shall raise Eternal monuments of louder praise . There our delight complying with her fame , Shall have occasion to recite thy name , Fair Sacharissa , and now only fair : To sacred friendship we 'l an Altar rear , Such as the Romans did erect of old , Where on a marble Pillar shall be told The lovely passion each to other bare , With the resemblance of that matchless pair , Narcissus to the thing for which he pin'd , Was not more like , than yours to her fair mind : Save that you grac'd the several parts of life , A spotless Virgin , and a faultless Wife : Such was the sweet converse 'twixt her and you , As that she holds with her associates now . How false is hope , and how regardless fate , That such a love should have so short a date ! Lately I saw her sighing , part from thee ( Alas that such the last farewel should be ! ) So look 't Astraea , her remove design'd : On those distressed friends she left behind : Consent in Vertue knit your hearts so fast , That still the knot , in spight of death does last : For as your tears and sorrow-wounded soul Prove well that on your part this bond is whole : So all we know of what they do above , Is , that they happy are , and that they love . Let dark oblivion and the hollow grave Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have : Well chosen Love is never taught to die , But with our nobler part invades the Skie : Then grieve no more , that one so Heavenly shap'd The crooked hand of trembling age escap'd ; Rather since we beheld her not decay , But that she vanish'd so entire away : Her wondrous beauty and her goodness merit , We should suppose that some propitious spirit , In that celestial form frequented here , And is not dead , but ceases to appear . To the Queen-Mother of France upon her Landing . GReat Queen of Europe , where thy off-spring wears All the chief Crowns , where Princes are thy heirs . As welcome thou to Sea-girt Britains shore , As erst Latona ( who fair Cinthia bore ) To Delos was . Here shines a Nymph as bright , By thee disclos'd , with like increase of light . Why was her joy in Belgia confin'd ? Or why did you so much regard the wind ? Scarce could the Ocean ( though inrag'd ) have tost Thy Soveraign Bark , but where th' obsequious coast Pays tribute to thy Bed : Romes conquering hand More vanquish'd Nations under her command Never reduc'd ; glad Berecinthia , so Among her deathless Progeny did go ; A wreath of Flowers adorn'd her reverent Head , Mother of all that on Ambrosia fed : Thy godlike race must sway the age to come , As she Olympus , peopled with her womb . Would those Commanders of Mankind obey Their honor'd Parent , all pretences lay Down at your Royal Feet , compose their Jarrs , And on the growing Turk discharge these Wars : The Christian Knights that sacred Tomb should wrest From Pagan hands , and Triumph o'r the East ; Our Englands Prince and Gallia's Dolphin might Like young Rinaldo , and Tancredo fight In single combate ; by their sword again The proud Argantes and fierce Soldan slain ; Again , might we their valiant deeds recite , And with your Thuscan Muse exalt the fight . To the mutable Fair. HEre Caelia for thy sake I part With all that grew so near my heart ; The passion that I had for thee , The Faith , the Love , the Constancy , And that I may successful prove Transform my self to what you love . Fool that I was so much to prize Those simple virtues you despise , Fool that with such dull Arrows strove , Or hop'd to reach a flying Dove ; For you that are in motion still Decline our force , and mock our skill . Who like Don Quixot do advance Against a Wind-mill our vain Launce . Now will I wander through the Air , Mount , make a stoop at every fair , And with a Fancy unconfin'd ( As lawless as the Sea or Wind ) Pursue you wheresoe'r you fly , And with your various thoughts comply . The formal Stars do travel so , As we their names and courses know , And he that on their changes looks , Would think them govern'd by our Books . But never were the clouds reduc'd To any Art the motion us'd By those free vapors are so light , So frequent , that the conquer'd sight Despairs to sind the rules that guide Those gilded shadows as they slide . And therefore of the Spacious Air Ioves royal consort had the care : And by that power did once escape , Declining bold Ixions rape ; She with her own resemblance grac'd A s●ining cloud which he embrac'd . Such was that Image , so it smil'd With seeming kindness which beguil'd Your Thirsis lately when he thought He had his fleeting Caelia caught . T was shap'd like her , but for the fair He fill'd his Arms with yielding Air : A fate for which he grieves the less , Because the gods had like success . For in their story one ( we see ) Pursues a Nymph , and takes a Tree : A second with a Lovers haste Soon overtakes whom he had chac'd ; But she that did a Virgin seem , Possest appears a wandering stream : For his supposed love a third Lays greedy hold upon a bird ; And stands amaz'd to find his dear , A wild Inhabitant of the air . To these old tales such Nymphs as you Give credit , and still make them new , The Am'rous now like wonders find In the swift changes of your mind . But Caelia if you apprehend The Muse of your incensed friend ; Nor would that he record your blame , And make it live , repeat the same , Again deceive him , and again , And then be swears he 'll not complain . For still to be deluded so , Is all the pleasure Lovers Know , Who , ( like good Faulkners ) take delight , Not in the quarrey , but the flight . Of Salley . OF Iason , Theseus , and such worthies old , Light seem the tales Antiquity has told . Such beasts and monsters as their force opprest Some places only , and some times infest ; Salley that scorn'd all power and laws of Men , Goods with their owners hurrying to their den , And future ages threat'ning with a rude And savage race successively renew'd , Their King despising with rebellious pride , And foes profest to all the World beside , This pest of Mankind gives our Hero fame , And through th'obliged world dilates his name . The Prophet once to cruel Agag said , As thy fierce sword has mothers childless made , So shall the sword make thine ; and with that word He hew'd the man in pieces with his sword : Just Charls like measure has return'd to these , Whose Pagan hands had stain'd the troubled Seas ; With Ships they made the spoiled Merchant mourn , With ships their City and themselves are torn . One squadron of our winged Castles sent O'r-threw their Fort , and all their Navy rent : For not content the dangers to increase , And act the part of tempests in the Seas , Like hungry Woolves these Pirats from our shore , Whole flocks of sheep , and ravish't Cattell bore ; Safely they might on other Nations prey , Fools to provoke the Soveraign of the Sea : Mad Cacus so whom like ill fate perswades The herd of fair Alcmena's seed invades ; Who for revenge , and mortals glad relief , Sack'd the dark cave , and crush'd that horrid Thief . Moroccos Monarch wondring at this fact , Save that his presence his affairs exact , Had come in person to have seen and known The injur'd worlds revenger , and his own . Hither he sends the chief among his Peers , Who in his Bark proportion'd Presents bears To the renown'd for piety and force , Poor captives manumiz'd and matchless horse . Puerperium . YOu Gods that have the power , To trouble , and compose All that 's beneath your bower , Calm silence on the Seas , on Earth impose . Fair Venus in thy soft arms , The God of rage confine , For thy whispers are the charms Which only can divert his fierce design . What though he frown , and to tumult do incline , Thou the flame , Kindled in his breast can'st tame , With that snow which unmelted lies on thine ? Great Goddess give this thy sacred Island rest , Make Heaven smile , That no storm disturb us , while Thy chief care our Halcyon builds her nest . Great Gloriana , fair Gloriana , Bright as high Heaven is , and fertile as Earth , Whose beauty relieves us , Whose Royal bed gives us Both glory and peace . Our present joy , and all our hopes increase . Of a Lady who writ in praise of Mira. WHile she pretends to make the Graces known Of matchless Mira , she reveals her own , And when she would anothers praise indite , Is by her Glass instructed how to write . To one married to an old Man. SInce thou wouldst needs , bewitcht with some ill charms , Be buried in those monumental arms : All we can wish , is , may that earth lie light Upon thy tender limbs , and so good night . To Flavia Song . T Is not your beauty can ingage My wary heart : The Sun in all his pride and rage , Has not that Art ; And yet he shines as bright as you , If brightness could our souls subdue . 'T is not the pretty things you say , Nor those you write , Which can make Thirsis heart your prey : For that delight , The graces of a well-taught mind , In some of our own sex we find . No Flavia , 't is your love I fear , Loves surest darts , Those which so seldom fail him are Headed with hearts ; Their very shadows makes us yield , Dissemble well , and win the field . The Fall. SEe how the willing earth gave way To take th' impression where she lay . See how the mould as loath to leave So sweet a burden , still doth cleave Close to the Nymphs stain'd garment ; here The coming Spring would first appear , And all this place with Roses strow , If busie feet would let them grow ; Here Venus Smil'd to see blind Chance It self , before her son advance , And a fair image to present Of what the Boy so long had meant : 'T was such a chance as this made all The World into this order fall : Thus the first love●s , on the clay Of which they were composed lay ; So in their prime with equal grace Met the first patterns of our race : Then blush not ( fai● ) or on him frown , Or wonder how you both came down ; But touch him , and he 'll tremble strait , How could he then support your weight ? How could the Youth alas , but bend When his whole Heaven upon him lean'd ? If ought by him amiss were done , 'T was that he let you rise so soon . Of Silvia . OUr sighs are heard , just Heav'n declares The sense it has of lovers cares : She that so far the rest out-shin'd , Silvia the fair whiles she was kind ; As if her frowns impair'd her brow , Seems only not unhandsome now : So when the sky makes us endure A storm , it self becomes obscure . Hence 't is that I conceal my flame , Hiding from Flavia's self her name : Lest she provoking Heaven should prove How it rewards neglected love . Better a thousand such as I Their grief untold should pine and die ; Then her bright morning over-cast With sullen clouds should be de●ac't . The Budd . LAtely on yonder swelling bush , Big with many a coming Rose , This early Bud began to blush , And did but half it self disclose ; I pluck't it , though no better grown , And now you see how full 't is blown . Still as I did the leaves inspire , With such a purple light they shone As if they had been made of fire , And spreading so , would flame anon : All that was meant , by Air or Sun To the young flower , my breath has done . If our loose breath so much can do , What may the same inform's of love , Of purest love and musick too When Flavia it aspires to move : When that , which life-less buds perswades To wax more soft , her youth invades . Upon Ben. Johnson . MIrror of Poets , mirror of our age ! Which her whole face beholding on thy stage , Pleas'd and displeas'd with her own faults , indures A remedy like those whom musick cures : Thou hast alone those various inclinations Which Nature gives to Ages , Sexes , Nations : So traced with thy All-resembling Pen That what ere custom has impos'd on men ; Or ill got habit , which deforms them so , That scarce a Brother can his Brother know , Is represented to the wondring eyes Of all that see or read thy Comedies : Who ever in those Glasses looks , may find The spots return'd , or graces of his mind : And by the help of so divine an Art At leasure view and dress his Nobler part . Nar●iss●s couzened by that flatt'ring Well , Which nothing could but of his beauty tell , Had here discovering the deform'd estate Of his fond mind , preserv'd him self with hate ; But Vertue too , as well as Vice , is clad In Flesh and Blood so well , that Plato had Beheld what his high fancy once embrac't Vertue with colours , speech , and motion grac't : The sundry postures of thy copious Muse Who would express , a thousand Tongues must use ; Whose fate 's no less peeuliar than thy Art , For as thou couldst all characters impart : So none could render thine , who still escapes Like Proteus in variety of shapes : Who was , nor this , nor that , but all we find , And all we can imagine in mankind . To Mr. George Sands , on his translation of some parts of the Bible . HOw bold a work attempts that Pen , Which would inrich our vulgar tongue With the high raptures of those men , Who here with the same spirit sung , Wherewith they now assist the Quire Of Angels , who their Songs admire ? What-ever these inspired Souls Were urged to express did shake , The aged deep , and both the Poles ; Their num'rous Thunder could awake Dull Earth , which does with Heaven consent To all they wrote , and all they meant . Say ( Sacred Bard ) what could bestow Courage on thee , to soar so high ? Tell me ( brave Friend ) what help'd thee so To shake of all mortality ? To light this Torch , thou h●st climb'd higher , Than he who stole Celestial fire . Chlorus and Hilas . Made to a Sarabran . C●l . HIlas , ô Hilas , why sit we mute , Now that each Bird saluteth the Spring ▪ Wind up the slackned strings of thy Lute , Never canst thou want matter to sing : For love thy Brest does fill with such a fire , That whatso'er is fair , moves thy desire . Hil. Sweetest you know , the sweetest of things , Of various flowers the Bees do compose , Yet no particular taste it brings Of Violet , Woodbind , Pink or Rose : So love the result is of all the graces Which flow from a thousand several faces . Chl. Hilas , the Birds which chant in this Grove , Could we but know the Language they use , They would instruct us better in Love , ●nd reprehend thy inconstant Muse : For Love their Breasts does fill with such a fire , That what they once do chuse , bounds their desire . Hil. Chloris , this change the Birds do approve , Which the warm Season hither does bring ; Time from your self does further remove ●ou , than the Winter from the gay Spring : She that like lightning shin'd while her face lasted , The Oak now resembles which lightning hath blasted . Under a Ladies Picture . SUch Hellen was , and who can blame the Boy That in so bright a Flame consum'd his Troy ? But had like Virtue shin'd in that fair Greek , The am'rous Shepherd had not dar'd to seek , Or hope for Pity , but with silent moan , And better Fate had perished alone . In Answer Of Sir John Suckling's Verses . Pro. STay here , fond Youth , and ask no more , be wi●e ▪ Knowing too much , long since lost Paradise . Con. And by your knowledge we should be bereft Of all that Paradise which yet is left . Pro. The vertuous joys thou hast , thou wouldst , shoul● still Last in their pride , and wouldst not take it ill If rudely from sweet dreams , and for a toy Thou awak't , he wakes himself that does enjoy . Con. How can the joy or hope which you allow Be stiled vertuous , and the end not so ▪ Talk in your sleep , and shadows still admire● 'T is true , He wakes that feels this real fire , But to sleep better ; for who e're drinks deep Of this Nepenthe , rocks himself asleep . Pro. Fruition adds no new wealth , but destroys , And while it pleaseth much , yet still it cloys : Who thinks he should be happier made for that 〈◊〉 reasonably might hope he might grow fat By eating to a Surfeit , this once past , What relishes ? even kisses lose their taste . Con. ●●essings may be repeated , while they cloy , But shall we starve , cause Surfeitings destroy ? And if fruition did the tas●e impair Of Kisses , why should yonder happy pair , Whose joys , just Himen warrants all the night , ●onsume the day too in this less delight ? ●ro . Urge not 't is necessary ; alas ! we know The homeliest thing that Mankind does , is so . The world is of a large extent we see , And must be peopled , Children there must be , So must Bread too ; but since there are enough Born to that drudgery . what need we plough ? Con. I need not plough , since what the stooping Hinde Gets of my pregnant Land , must all be mine : But in this nobler Tillage 't is not so ; For when Anchises did fair Venus know , What interest had poor Vulcan in the Boy , Famous Aeneas , or the present joy ? Pr● . Women enjoy'd , what e'retofore they have been , Are like Romances read , or Scenes once seen : Fruition dulls , or spoils the Play much more Than if one read , or knew the Plot before . Con. Plays and Romances read , and seen , do fall In our opinions , yet not seen at all Whom would they please ? to an Heroick tale , Would you not ●●sten , lest it should grow stale ? Pro. 'T is expectation makes a blessing dear , ●●aven were not Heaven , it we knew what it were . Con. If 't were not Heaven , if we knew what it were , ● would not be Heaven to those that now are there . Pro. As in Prospects we are there pleased most , Where something keeps the eye from being lost , And leaves us room to guess ; so here restraint , ●●lds up delight , that with excess would faint . Con. 〈◊〉 preserves the pleasure we have got ▪ 〈…〉 〈…〉 In goodly prospects who contracts the space , Or takes not all the bounty of the place ? We wish remov'd what standeth in our light And nature blame for limiting our sight , Where you stand wisely winking that the view Of the fair prospect may be always new . 〈◊〉 . They who know all the wealth they have are po●● He 's only rich that cannot tell his store . Con. Not he that knows the wealth he has , is poor , But he that dares not touch , nor use his store . To a Friend of the different success of their Loves . THrice happy pair of whom we cannot kno● Which first began to love , or loves most now Fair course of passion where two Lovers 〈◊〉 , And run together , 〈…〉 Successful Youth , whom Love has taught the way To be victorious in the first Essay . Sure Love 's an Art best practised at first , And where th'experienc'd still prosper worst ; I with a different Fate pursu'd in vain The haughty Calia , till my just disdain Of her neglect , above that passion born , Did pride to pride oppose , and scorn to scorn , Now she relents , but all too late to move A heart directed to a Nobler love ; The scales are turn'd , her kindness weighs no more , Now , than my vows and service did before : So in some well wrought hangings you may see How Hector leads , and how the Grecians flee ; ●ere the fierce Mars his courage so inspires ▪ ●hat with bold hands the Argive Fleet he fires ; 〈…〉 there from Heaven the blew ey'd Virgin falls ●nd frighted Tro● retires within her Walls . They that are foremost in that bloody Race Turn head anon , and give the Conqu'rors chace ▪ So like the chances are of Love and War , That they alone in this distinguish'd are : In love the victors from the vanquish'd flie , They flie that wound , and they pursue that die . An Apology for having loved before , THey that never had the use Of the Grapes surpri●ing juyc● ; To the first delicious cup , All their Reason render up : Neither do not care to know , Whether it be best or no. So they that are to love inclin'd ; Sway'd by Chance , not Choice or Art , To the first that 's fair or kind , Make a present of their heart ▪ 'T is not she that first we love , But whom dying we approve . To Man that was i' th ●evening made , Stars gave the first delight ; Admiring in the gloomy shade , Those little drops of light . Then at Aurora , whose fair hand Remov'd them from the Skies , He gazing toward the 〈◊〉 did stan● ▪ She entertain'd his Eyes , But when the bright Sun did appear , All those he can despise , His wonder was determin●d there , And could no higher rise ; He neither might , nor wisht to know A more refulgent light ▪ For that ( as mine your beauties now ) Imploy'd his utmost sight . To Zelinda . FAirest piece of well form'd Earth , Urge not thus your haughty birth : The power which you have o're us lies Not in your Race , but in your Eyes : None but a Prince● alas that voice Confines you to a narr●● choice ! Should you no Honey vow to taste , But what the Master-Bees have plac't In compass of their Cells , how small A portion to your share would fall ? Nor all appear among those few , Worthy the stock from whence they grew ? The sap which at the Root is bred In Trees , through all the Boughs is spred ; But Vertues which in Parents shine , Make not like progress through the Line ▪ 'T is not from whom , but 〈◊〉 we live ; The place does oft those graces give Great Iuli●s on the Mountains bred , A Flock perhaps , or Herd , had led , He that the world subdu'd ▪ had been But the best wrestler on the Green : 'T is Art and Knowledge which draw forth The hidden Seeds of Native worth ; They blow those sp●rks ▪ and make them rise Into such flames as touch the Skies To the old Heroes hence was given A Pedigree which reacht to Heaven ▪ Of mortal Seed they were not held . Which other mortals so excell'd ▪ And Beauty too in such excess As yours , Zeli●da claims no less . Smile but on me ; and you shall scorn Henceforth to be of Princes born . I can describe the shady Grove Where your lov'd Mother slept with Iove , And yet excuse the faultless Dame , Caught with her Spouses shape and name ; Thy matchless form will credit bring To all the wonders I shall sing . On Mr. John Fletcher's Plays . FLetcher , to thee we do not only owe All our good Plays , but all those other too , Thy Wit repeated , does support the Stage , Credits the last , and entertains this Age , No Worthies form ' d by any Muse but thine Could purchase Robes , to make themselves so fine . What brave Commander is not proud to see Thy brave Mela●ti●s in his Gallantry . Our greatest Ladies love to see their scorn Out-done by thine , in what themselves have worn ; The impatient Widow e're the year be done , Sees thy Aspasia weeping in her Gown . I never yet the Tragick strain assay'd , Deterr'd by that inimitable Maid . And when I venture at the Comick stile , Thy scornful Lady seems to mock my toil . Thus has thy Muse at once improv'd and marr'd Our sport in Plays by rendring it too hard ; So when a sort of lusty Shepherds throw , The Bar by turns , and none the rest out-go So far , but that the best are measuring casts , Their emulation , and their pastime lasts ; But if some brawny Yeoman of the Guard Step in and toss the Axle-tree a yard Or more beyond the furthest mark , the rest , Despai●●ing stand , their sport is at the best . To Chloris . CHloris since first our calm of peace Was frighted hence , this good we find , Your favours with your fears increase , And growing mischie●s make you kind : So the fair Tree which still preserves Her Fruit and State , whil'st no wind blows , In storms from that uprightness swerves , And the glad earth about her strows With Treasure from her yielding boughs . On St. James's Park , as lately improved by His Majesty . Of the first Paradice there 's nothing found , Plants set by Heav'n are vanisht , & the ground ▪ Yet the description lasts ; who knows the ●ate Of lines that shall this P●radice relate ? Instead of Rivers rowling by the side Of Eden's Garden , here flows in the Tyde ; The Sea which always serv'd his Empire , now Pays Tribute to our Prince's pleasure too : Of famous Cities we the Founders know ; But Rivers old , as Seas , to which they go , Are Nature's bounty ; 't is of more Renown To make a River than to build a Town . For future shade young Trees upon the banks Of the new stream appear in even ranks : The voice of Orpheus or Amphion's hand In better order could not make them stand ; May they increase as fast , and spread their boughs , As the high Fame of their great Owner grows ! May he live long enough to see them all Dark shadows cast , and as his Place tall . Methinks I see the love that shall be made , The Lovers walking in that amorous shade , The Gallants dancing by the Rivers side , They bathe in Summer , and in Winter slide . Methinks I hear the Musick in the Boats , And the loud Eccho which returns the Notes , Whilst over head a flock of new sprung Fowl Hangs in the Air , and does the Sun controul : Darkning the Sky they hover o're , and shrowd The wanton Sailors with a feather'd cloud : Beneath a shole of silver Fishes glides , And plays about the gilded Barges sides ; The Ladies angling in the Chrystal Lake , Feast on the waters with the pray they take ; At once victorious with their Lines and Eyes They make the Fishes and the Men their prize ; A thousand Cupids on the Billows ride , And Sea-Nymphs enter with the swelling Tide , From Thetis sent as Spies to make report , And tell the wonders of her Sovetaign's Court , All that can living feed the greedy Eye● Or dead the Palat , here you may desory ▪ The choicest things that furnisht Na●h's Ark , Or Peter's sheet , inhabiting this Park●● All with a border of rieh Fruit-trees or own'd , Whose loaded-branches hide the lo●ty mound . Such various ways the spacious Allies lead , My doubtful Muse knows not what path to tread ▪ ●onder the harvest of cold months laid up , ●ives a fresh boolness to the Royal Cup , There Ice , like Chrystal , firm , and never lost , Tempers hot Iusy with Decembers Frost , Winters dark Prison , whence he cannot flie , Though the warm Spring his enemy draws nigh : ●trange ! that extremes should thus preserve the snow High on the Alps , or in deep Caves below . Here a well-polisht Mall gives us the joy To see our Prince his matchless force imploy ; His manly posture and his graceful meen Vigor and Yo●th in all his motion seen , His shape ●o lovely , and his limbs so strong , Confirm our hopes we shall obey him long : No sooner has he toucht the flying Ball , But 〈…〉 more than hals the Mall ▪ And such a fury from his arm has got As from a smo●king Culverin 't were shot . Nere this my Muse , what most delights her , sees , A living Gallery of aged Trees ; Bold Sons of earth that thrust their arms so high , As if once more they would invade the Sky ; In such green Palaces the first Kings reign'd , Slept in their shades , and Angels entertain'd : With such old Counsellors they did advise , And by frequenting sacred Groves grew wise ; Free from th impediments of light and noise Man thus retir'd his nobler thoughts imploys : Here Charles contrives the ordering of his States , Here he resolves his neighb'ring Princes fates : What Nation shall have Peace , where War be made Determin'd is in this oraculous shade ; The World from India to the frozen North , Concern'd in what this Solitude brings forth . His Fancy objects from his view receives , The prospect thought and contemplation gives : That seat of Empire here salutes his eye , To which three Kingdoms do themselves apply , The structure by a Prelate rais'd , Whitehall , Built with the fortune of Rome's Capitol ; Both disproportion'd to the present State Of their proud Founders , were approv'd by Fate ; From hence he does that antique Pile behold , Where Royal heads receive the sacred gold ; It gives them Crowns , and does their ashes keep ; There made like gods , like mortals there they sleep Making the circle of their Reign complete , Those Suns of Empire , where they rise they set : When others fell , this standing did presage The Crown should triumph over popular rage , Hard by that House where all our Ills were shap'd , Th' auspicious Temple stood , and yet escap'd . So Snow on Aetna does unmelted lie , Whence rowling flames and scatter'd cinders flie ; The distant Countrey in the ruine shares , What falls from Heav'n the burning Mountain spares . Next , that capacious Hall he sees the room , Where the whole Nation does for Justice come . Under whose large roof flourishes the Gown , And Judges grave on high Tribunals frown . Here like the peoples Pastor he does go , His flock subjected to his view below ; On which reflecting in his mighty mind , No private pa●●ion does Indulgence find ; The pleasures of his Youth suspended are , And made a Sacrifice to publick care ; Here free from Court compliances he walks , And with himself , his best adviser , talks , How peace●ul Olive may his Temples shade , For mending Laws , and for res●oring Trade ; Or how his Brows may be with Laurel charg'd , For Nations conquer'd , and our Bounds inlarg'd : Of ancient Prudence here he ruminates . O● rising Kingdoms , and of falling States : What ruling Arts gave Great Augustus Fame , And how Alcides purchas'd such a name : His eyes upon his native Palace bent Close by , suggest a greater argument , 〈◊〉 thoughts rise higher when the does restect● On what the world may from that Star expect Which at his Birth appear'd to let us see Day for his sake could with the Night agree ; A Prince on whom 〈◊〉 different lights did smile● Born , the divided world to reconcile : Whatever Heaven or high extracted blood Could promise or foretell , he will make good ; Refors●● these . Nations and improve them more ▪ Than this fair Park from what it was before . To Sir William D'avenant upon his Two fir●● Books of Gondibert , written in ●rance THus the wi●e Nightingale that leaves her ho●● Her native Wood , when storms and winter 〈◊〉 Pursuing constantly the chearful Spring , To forein Groves does her old Musick bring ; The 〈…〉 unstrung ▪ At 〈◊〉 , upon the Willows hung ▪ Yours sounds aloud , and tells us you excell No less in Cou●●ge , than in Singing well ; Whilst unconcern'd you let your Countrey know . They have impoverished themselve● , not you ; Who with the Muses help can mock those Fates Which threaten Kingdoms , and disorder States . So Ovid when from C●sar 's rage he fle● , The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led ; Where he so sung , that we through pities Glass , See Nero milder than Augustus was . Hereafter such in thy behalf shall be Th'indulgent Censure of Posterity . To banish those who with such art can sing , ●●a rude crime which its own curse does bring : ●ges to come , shall ne'r know how they fought , Nor how to Love their present Youth be taught . This to thy self . Now to thy matchless Book , Wherein those few that can with Judgment look , May find old Love in pure fresh Language told , Like new stampt-Coin made out of Angel-gold . Such truth in Love as th'antique world did know . In such a stile 〈◊〉 Courts may boast of now . Which no bold tales of Gods or Monsters swell , But humane Passions , such as with us dwell . Man is thy ●heme , his Vertue or his Rage Drawn to the Life in each elaborate Page . Mars nor Be●ona are not named here ; But such a Gondibert as both might fear . Venus had here , and Hebe been out-shin'd , By the bright Birtha , and thy Rhodalind . Such is thy happy skill , and such the odds Betwixt thy Worthies and the Grecian gods . Whose Deities in vain had here come down Where mo●● al Beauty wears the Soveraign Crown Such as of flesh compos'd , by flesh and blood ( Though not resisted ) may be understood . To my worthy Friend Mr. Wase , the Translator of Gratius . THus by the Musick we may know When Noble Wits a Hunting go Through Groves that on Parnassus grow . The Muses all the Chase adorn , My Friend on Pegasus is born , And young Apollo winds the Horn. Having old Gratius in the wind . No pack of Critiques e're could find Or he know more of his own mind . Here Huntsmen with delight may read How to chuse Dogs for scent or speed , And how to change or mend the breed . What Arms to use , or Nets to frame , Wild Beasts to combat or to tame , With all the Mysteries of that game . But ( worthy Friend ) the face of War In antient times does differ ●ar From what our fiery battles are . Nor is it like ( since powder known ) That man so ●ruel to his own , Should spare the race of Beasts alone . No quarter now but with the Gun , Men wait in Trees from Sun to Sun , And all is in a moment done . And therefore we expect your next Should be no Comment but a Text , To tell how modern Beasts are vext . Thus would I further yet engage Your gentle Muse to court the age With somewhat of your proper rage . Since none does more to 〈◊〉 owe , Or in more Languages can show Those Arts which you so early know . To the King , upon His Majesties happy Return . THe rising Sun complies with our weak sight , First gilds the clouds , then shews his globe of light At such a distance from our eyes , as though He knew what harm his hasty Beams would do . But your full MAIESTY at once breaks forth In the Meridian of Your Reign , Your Worth , Your Youth , and all the splendor of Your State , Wrapt up , till now , in clouds of adverse Fate , With such a floud of light invade our eyes , And our spread hearts with so great joy surprize , That , if Your Grace incline that we should live , You must not ( SIR ) too hastily forgive . Our guilt preserves us from th' excess of joy , Which scatters 〈◊〉 , and would life destroy . All are obnoxious , and this faulty Land Like f●inting Hester does before you stand , Watching your Scepter , the revolted Sea Trembles to think she did your Foes obey . Great Brit●●i● , Like blind Rolipheme , of late In a wild r●ge became the scorn and hate Of her proud Neighbors , who began to think , She , with the weight of her own force would sink But You are come , and all their hopes are vain , This Giant Isle has got her Eye again ; Now she might spare the Ocean , and oppose Your conduct to the fiercest of her Foes : Naked , the Graces guarded you from all Dangers abroad , and now your Thunder shall . Princes , that saw you , different Passions prove , For now they dread the Object of their love ; Nor without envy can behold His height , Whose Conversation was their late delight , So Semele contented with the rape Of Iove disguised in a mortal shape , When she beheld his hands with lightning fill'd , and his bright rayes , was with amazement kill'd , And though it be our sorrow and our crime To have accepted life so long a time Without You here , yet does this absence gain No small advantage to Your present Reign : For , having view'd the persons and the things , The Councils , State and Strength of Europe's Kings , You know your work ; Ambition to restrain , And set them bounds , as Heav'n does to the Main : We have you now with ruling wisdom fraught , Not such as Books , but such as Practice taught : So the l●st Sun , while least by us enjoy'd , Is the whole night , for our concern imploy'd : He ripens Spices , Fruit , and precious Gums , Which from remotest Regions hither comes . This seat of Yours , from th' other world remov'd , Had Archimede's known , he might have prov'd His Engines force , fixt here , your power and skill Make the world's motion wait upon your will. Much suffering Monarch , the first English born , That has the Crown of these three Nations worn , How has your patience , with the barbarous rage Of Your own Soil , contended half an age ? Till ( Your try'd Vertue , and Your sacred Word , At last preventing Your unwilling Sword ) Armies and Fleets , which kept You out so long , Own'd their great Sovereign , and redrest His wron● When straight the People , by no force compell'd ▪ Nor longer from their inclination held , Break forth at once , like Powder let on fire , And with a Noble rage their KING require ▪ So th'injur'd Sea , which from her wonted course , To gain some Acres , Avarice did force , If the new Banks , neglected once , decay , No longer will from her old Channel ●tay , Raging , the late-got Land the over●●ows , And all that 's built upon 't to ruine goes . O●●enders now , the chiefe●● , do begin To strive for Grace , and expiate their 〈◊〉 All Winds blow fair , that did the World imbroil , Your Vipers Treacle yield , and 〈…〉 , If then such praise the Macedonian got , ●or having rudely cut the Gordian knot ; What Glory 's due to him that could divide ●uch ravell'd int'rests , has the knot unty'd , And without stroke so smooth a passage made , Where craft and malice such impeachments laid ▪ But while we praise You , You ascribe it all To his high hand , which threw the untoucht Wall Of self-demolisht Ierico so low : His Angel 't was that did before You go , Tam'd savage hearts , and made affections yield , Like Ears of Corn when Wind salutes the Field . Thus Patience crown'd : like Iob's Your Trouble end ▪ Having your Foes to pardon , and your Friend● : For though your Courage were so firm a Rock , What private V●rtue could endure the shock ? Like Your great Master , You the Storm withstood , And pitied those who Love with ●railty shew'd . Rude Indians torturing all the Royal Race Him with the Throne and dear bought Scepter grace 〈…〉 : what Region could be found , Where yo●● h●roick Head had not been crown'd ? The next experience of Your mighty mind , 〈◊〉 how You combat Fortune now she 's kind ; And this way too , You are victorious found , ●●e flatters with the same success she frown'd ; While to Your Self severe , to others kind , With power unbounded , and a will confin'd , Of this vast Empire You possess the care , 〈◊〉 softer part falls to the Peoples share : ●●●ey and equal Government are things Which Subjects make as happy as their Kings . Faith Law , and Piety , that banisht train , 〈◊〉 and Truth , with You return again : 〈◊〉 Cities Trade , and Countries easre life 〈…〉 strife . Your Reign no less assures the Ploughman's peace , Than the warm Sun advances his increase ; And does the Shepherds as securely keep From all their fears , as they preserve their sheep . But above all , the Muse inspired train Triumph , and raise their drooping heads again ; Kind Heaven at once has in Your Person sent Their sacred Judge , their Guard , and Argument . Nec magis express● vultus per aenea signa Quam per val is op●● mores , animique 〈◊〉 C●rorum apparent — To my Lady Morton on New-years-day , 16●0 . at the Louvre in Paris . Madam , NEW-years may well expect to find Welcome from you , to whom they are 〈◊〉 Still as they pass , they court , and smile on you , And make your Beauty as themselves seem new . To the fair Villars we Dalkith prefer ; And fairest Morton now as much to her ; So like the Sun 's advance your Titles show ; Which , as he rises , does the warmer grow . But thus to stile you fair , your Sexes praise ; Gives you but Mirtle , who may challenge Bay● ▪ From armed Foes to bring a Royal prize , Shews your brave Heart victorious , as your Eyes ; 〈◊〉 Iudeth marching with the General 's head , 〈◊〉 give us passion when her Story 's read , What may the living do which brought away ; Though a less bloudy , yet a Nobler prey ? Who from our flaming Troy , with a bold hand 〈◊〉 her fair Charge , the Princess , like a brand , ●brand preserv'd to warm some Princes heart 〈◊〉 make whole Kingdoms take her Brother's part 〈◊〉 Venus from prevailing Greeks did shrowd 〈◊〉 hope of Rome , and sav'd him in a cloud ; This gallant act may cancel all our rage , Begin a better , and absolve this age . Dark shades become the Portraict of our time , Here weeps Misfortune , and there triumphs Cri●● Let him that draws it hide the rest in night , This portion only may endure the light , Where the kind Nym●h changing her ●aultless shap● Becomes unhandsome , handsomly to s●●pe , When through the Guards , the River , and the S●● Faith , Beauty , Wit and Courage , made their 〈◊〉 As the brave Eagle does with sorrow see The Forest wasted , and that lofty Tree Which holds her Nest about to be O'●e thrown Before the feathers of her young are grown , She will not leave them , nor she cannot stay , ●ut bears them boldly on her wings away ; So fled the Dame , and O're the Ocean bore Her Princely burthen to the Gallick shoar . Born in the storms of 〈◊〉 this Royal fair , Produc'd 〈…〉 , Though now she flies her native Isle , less kind , ●ess safe for her , than either Sea or Wind , Shall , when the Blossom of her Beauty 's blown , See her great Brother on the British Throne , Where Peace shall smile , and no dispute arise , But which Rules most , his Scepter , or her Eyes . Of a fair Lady pl●ying with a Snake . STrange that 〈…〉 〈…〉 〈…〉 〈…〉 〈…〉 To start at Love , and play with Snakes . By this and by her coldness 〈◊〉 Her Servants have a task too hard , The Tyrant has a double guard . Thrice happy Snake , that in her sleeve May boldly creep , we dare not give Our thoughts so unconfin'd a leave : Contented in that Nest of Snow He lies , as he his Bliss did know , And to the Wood no more would go . Take heed , ( fair Eve ) you do not make Another Tempter of this Snake , A marble one so warm'd would speak . To his worthy Friend Master E'velyn , upon his Translation of Lucretius . THat Chance and Atoms make this all In Order Democratical , Where Bodies freely run their course Without design , or Fate , or Force . In English Verse Lucretins sings As if with Pegasean wings , He soar'd beyond our utmost Sphere , And other World 's discovered there ; His boundless and unr●ly Wit To Nature does no bounds permit ; But boldly has remov'd those Bars , Of Heaven , and Earth , and Seas , and Stars , By which she was before suppos'd By moderate Wits to be enclos'd , Till his ●ree Muse threw down the Pale , And did at once dispark them all . So vast this Argument did seem That the great Author did esteem The Roman Language , which was spred ●'re the whole world in Triumph led Too weak , too narrow to unfold The Wonders which he would have told . This speaks thy Glory , Noble Friend , And British Language does commend ; For here Lucretius whole we find , His Words , his Mu●ick , and his Mind , Thy Art has to our Co●●try brought All that he writ , and all he thought . Ovid translated , Virgil too , Shew'd long since what our tongue could do ; Nor Lucan we , nor Harace spar'd , Only Lucretius was too hard ▪ Lucretius , like a Fort did stand Untoucht , till your victorious Hand Did from his Head this Garland bear . Which now upon your own you wear : A Garland made of such new Bays , And sought in such untr●dden ways , As no Man's Temples e're did Crown , Save this fam'd Authors and your own , Part of the 4th Book of Virgil 〈◊〉 , beginning — Talesque miseri●●● 〈◊〉 Fertquer fertq●e for o● . — And ending with ▪ Adnixi torquent spumas & caerula v●rrunt . All this her weeping sister does repeat To the stern Man , whom nothing could intreat ; Lost were her Pray' is , and fruitless were her Tears , Fate and great Iove had stop'd his gentle Ears . As when loud winds a well-grown Oak would rend Up by the roots , this way , and that they bend His reeling Trunk , and with a boisterous sound Scatter his leaves , and strow them on the ground , He fixed stands , as deep his root doth ●ie , Down to the Centre , as his top is high . No less on every side the Hero prest , Feels Love and Pity shake his Noble brest , And down his Cheeks though fruitless tears do roul , Unmov'd remains the purpose of his Soul. Then Dido urged with approaching Fate Begins the light of cruel Heaven to hate ; Her resolution to dispatch and die Confirm'd by many a horrid Prodigy . The water consecrate for Sacrisice , Appears all black to her amazed eye● , The Wine to putrid Bloud converted flows , Which from her , none , not her own sister knows . Besides there stood as sacred to her Lord A marble Temple which she much ador'd , With snowy Fleeces and fresh Garlands crown'd , Hence every night proceeds a dreadful sound . Her Husband 's voice invites her to his Tomb , And dismal Owls presage the ills to come . Besides , the Prophesies of Wizards old Increast her terror and her fall for●told . Scorn'd and deserted to her self she seems , And finds Aeneas cruel in her dreams . So , to mad Pentheus , double Thebes appears , And Furies howl in his distempered ears , Orestes so with like distraction toft , Is made to flie his Mothers angry ghost . Now grief and fury , at their height arrive , Death she decre●s , and thus does it contrive ▪ Her grieved Sister with a chearful grace , ( Hope well-dislembled shining in her face ) She thus deceives . ( Dear Sister ) let us prove The Cure I have invented for my Love. Beyond the Land of Aethi●pia lies The place where Atlas does support the Shies ; Hence came an old Magician that did keep Th' Hesperian Fruit , and made the Dragon sleeps ; Her potent Charms do troubled Souls relieve , And where she lists , makes calmest minds to grieve , The course of Rivers or of Heaven can stop . And call Trees down from th' airy Mountains 〈◊〉 . Witness ye Gods , and thou my deatest part , How loth I am to tempt this guilty Art. Erect a Pile , and on it let us place That Bed where I my ruine did embrace . With all the reliques of our impious Guest , Arms , Spoils , and Pr●sents , let the Pil● be 〈◊〉 ( The knowing-woman thus prescribes ) that we May 〈◊〉 the Man out of our 〈◊〉 Thus speaks the Queen , but hides the fatal end For which she doth those sacred 〈◊〉 pretend . Nor worse effects of Grief her Sister thought Would 〈…〉 murder wronghs , Therefore obeys 〈◊〉 , and now 〈◊〉 high The 〈◊〉 Oaks 〈…〉 Hung all with wreaths and 〈◊〉 garlands round ; So by her Self was her own 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Upon the top , the Trojan's Image lies , And his sharp Sword where with anon the dies . They by the Altar stand , while with loose hair The Magick Propheress begins her Prayer , On Chao's , E●ebus , and all the Gods , Which in the infernal shades have their abodes , She loudly calls , besprinkling all the Room With drops suppo●'d from L●thes Lake to come , She seeks the 〈◊〉 which on the forehead grows Of new-foal'd Col●● and he●bs by moon-light mows . A Cake of Leaven in her pions hands Holds the devoted Queen , and barefoot stands , One tender Foot was bare , the other 〈◊〉 , Her Robe ungi●● invoking every God , And every Power ; if any be above Which takes 〈…〉 Love Now was the ti●e when weary Mortals steep The●● careful Temples in the dew of sleep . On Seas , on Earth , and all that in them dwell , A death like quiet , and deep silence fell , But not on Dido , whose untamed mind Refus'd to be by sacred night confin'd : A double passion in her breast does move Love and fierce anger for neglected Love. Thus she afficts her Soul , What shall I do ? With Fate inverted shall I humbly wooe ? And some proud Prince in wild Numidi● born , Pray to accept me , and forget my scorn ? Or shall I , with th' ungrateful Trojan go , Quit all my State , and wait upon my Foe ? Is not enough by sad experience known , The perjur'd Race of false L●oinedon ? With my Sidoni●●i shall I give them chace ? Bands hardly for●ed from their native place ? No , dye , and let this Sword thy fury tame , Nought but thy bloud can quen●h this guilty flame . Ah Sister ! vanquisht with my passion thou Betrayd'st me first , dispensing with my vow . Had I been constant to Sycbaeus still , And single-liv'd , I had not known this ill . Such thoughts torment the Queens inraged breast , While the Dardani●n does securely rest In his tall ship for sudden flight prepar'd , To whom once more the Son of Iove appear●d , Thus seems to speak the youthful Deity , Voice , Hair , and Colour , all like Mercury . Fair 〈◊〉 ! Canst thou indulge thy sleep ? Nor better guard in such great danger keep , Mad by neglect to lose so fair a wind ? If here thy ships the purple 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , Thou shalt behold this hostile Harbor shine With a new Fleet , and Fire , to ruine thine ; She meditates Revenge resolv'd to dye , Weigh Anchor , quickly , and her Fury flie . This said , the God in shades of Night retir'd . Amaz'd Aeneas with the warning fir'd , Shakes off dull sleep , and rouzing up his men , Behold ! the Gods command our flight agen ; Fall to your Oars , and all your Canvas spread , What God soe're that thus vouchsaf'st to lead , We follow gladly , and thy Will obey , Assist us still smoothing our happy way , And make the rest propitious . With that word He cuts the Cable with his shining Sword ; Through all the Navy doth like Ardor reign , They quit the Shore , and rush into the Main ; Plac't on their banks , the lusty Trojans sweep Neptune's smooth face , and cleave the yielding deeps . Of a War with Spain , and a Fight at Sea. Now for some Ages had the pride of Spain Made the Sun shine on half the world in vain ; While she bid War to all that durst supply The place of those her cruelty made dye . Of Nature's bounty men forbore to taste , And the best portion of the Earth lay waste . From the new world her silver and her gold Came , like a Tempest , to confound the old . Feeding with these the brib'd Elector's hopes , Alone she gave us Emperors and Popes ; With these accomplishing her vast designs , Enrope was shaken with her Indian Mines . When Britain looking with a just disdain Upon this gilded Majesty of Spain , And knowing well that Empire must decline , Whose chief support and sinews are of coin ; Our Nations solid vertue did oppose . To the rich troublers of the worlds repose . And now some Months incamping on the Main , Our Naval Army had besieged Spain . They that the whole world's Monarchy design'd , Are to their Ports by our bold Fleet confin'd , From whence our Red-cross they triumphant see , Riding without a Rival on the Sea. Others may use the Ocean as their Road , Only the English make it their aboad , Whose ready Sails , with every wind can flie , And make a Cov'nant with th' unconstant Skie ; Our Oaks secure , as if they there took root , We tread on billows with a steady foot . Mean while the Spaniards in America Near to the Line the Sun approaching saw , And hop'd their European Coasts to sind Clear'd from our ships by the Autumnal wind : Their huge capacious Gallions stuft with Plate The lab'ring winds drive slowly towards their ●ate . Before St. Lucar they their Guns discharge , To tell their joy , or to invite a Barge ; This heard some Ships of ours ( though out of view ; And swift as Eagles to the Quarry ●lew : So heedless Lambs which for their Mothers bleat , Wake hungry Lions , and become their meat . Arriv'd , they soon begin that Tragique play , And with their smoaky Cannons banish day ; Night , Horror , Slaughter , with Confusion meets , And in their sable Arms imbrace the Fleets . Through yielding Planks the angry Bullets , flie , And of one wound hundreds together die : Born under different stars one Fate they have , The Ship their Coffin , and the Sea their Grave . Bold were the Men which on the Ocean first Spread their new Sails , when shipwrack was the worst ; More danger now from Man alone we find Than from the Rocks , the Billows , or the Wind ; They that had sail'd from near th' Antar●ick Pole , Their Treasure safe , and all their Vessels whole , In sight of their dear Countrey ruin'd be Without the guilt of either Rock or Sea. What they would spare , our siercer Art destroys , Surpassing storms in terror and in noise ; O●ce Iove from Ida , did both Hosts survey , And when he pleas'd to thunder , part the fray ; Here Heaven in vain that kind retreat shou'd sound , The louder Cannon had the Thunder drown'd . Some we made prize , while others burnt and rent With their rich Lading , to the bottom went , Down sinks at once ( so Fortune with ●s sports ) The Pay of Armies , and the Pride of Courts . Vain man ! whose Rage buries as low that store , As Avarice had dig'd for it before ; What Earth in her dark bowels could not keep From greedy hands lies safer in the deep , Where Thetis kindly does from Mortals hide Those seeds of Luxury , Debate and Pride . And now into her Lap the richest prize Fell with the noblest of our Enemies , The Marquis glad to see the fire destroy Wealth , that prevailing Foes were to enjoy , Out from his flaming Ship his Children sent To perish in a milder Element ; Then laid him by his burning Ladies side , And since he could not save her , with her dy'd . Spices and ●ums about them melting fry , And Phoenix-like , in that rich Nest they die ; Alive in flames of equal Love they burn'd , And now together are to ashes turn'd ; Ashes more worth than all their funeral cost , Than the huge Treasure which was with them lost . These dying Lovers , and their floating Sons Suspend the Fight , and silence all our Guns ▪ Beauty and Youth about to perish finds Such Noble pity in brave English minds , That the rich Spoil forgot , their Valors prize , All labour now to save their Enemies . How Frail our Passions● how soon changed are Our wrath and fury to a friendly Care ? They that but now for Honour and for Plate Made the Sea blush with bloud , resign their hate , And their young Foes endeav'ring to retrive , With greater hazard than they fought , they dive . Epitaph to be written under the Latine Inscription upon the Tomb of the Onely Son of the Lord , Andover . 'T Is fit the English Reader should be told In our own Language what this Tomb do's hold : 'T is not a Noble Corps alone do's lie Under this Stone , but a whole Family ; His Parents pious Care , their Name , their Joy , And all their Hope , lies bur●ed with this Boy ; This lovely Youth , for whom we all made moan , That knew his worth , as he had been our own . Had there been space , and ●ears enough allow'd , His Courage , Wit , and Breeding , to have show'd , We had not found in all the numerous Rowl Of his fam'd Anoestors , a greater Soul , His early Vertues to that ancient Stock Give as much Honour , as from thence he took . Like Buds appearing e're the Frosts are past , To become Man he made such fatal haste , And to perfection labor'd so to climb , Preventing slow Experience and Time , That 't is no wonder Death our hopes beguil'd ; He 's seldom Old , that will not be a Child . To the Queen , upon Her Majesties Birth-day , after Her Happy Recovery from a Dangerous Sickness . FArewel the Year ▪ which threatned so The fairest Light the world can show ; Welcome the New , whose every day Restoring what was snatch'd away By pining sickness from the Fair , That matchless Beauty does repair So fast , that the approaching Spring . Which do's to Flow●y Meadows bring What the rude Winter from them 〈◊〉 , Shall give her all she had 〈◊〉 . But we recover not so fast The sense of such a danger past ; We that esteem'd you sent from Heav'n , A pattern to this Island giv'n , To shew us what the Bles●'d do there , And what alive they practis'd here , When that which we Immo●●al thought , We saw so near Destruction brought , Felt all which you did then endure And tremble yet , as not secure ; So though the Sun victorious be , And from a dark Eclipse set free , Th' Influence which we fondly fear , Afflicts our Thoughts the following Year : But that which may ●elieve our Care , Is that You have a Help so near For all the Evils you can prove , The Kindness of Your Royal Love : He that was never known to Mourn , So many Kingdoms from him Torn ; ●is Tears reserv'd for You , more dear , More priz'd than all those Kingdoms were ▪ For when no h●aling Art prevail'd , When Cordials and Elixars ●aild , On your pale Cheek he dropt the show'r , Reviv'd you like a Dying Flow'r . Nunc itaque & versus & caetera ludiera pono , Quid verum , atque decens , curo , & rogo , & omnis in hoc sunt Instructions to a PAINTER , For the Drawing of the Posture and Progress of His Majesties Forces at Sea , under the Command of His Highness-Royal : Together with the Battel and Victory obtain'd over the DUTCH , Iune 3. 1665. FIrst draw the Sea , that portion which between The greater world , and this of ours is seen ; Here place the British , there the Holland Fleet , Vast floating Armies , both prepar'd to meet : Draw the whole world , expecting who sho● 〈◊〉 ●fter this Combat , o're the conquer'd Main ; Make Heav'n concern'd , and an unusual Star , Declare th'Importance of th' approaching War● Make the Sea● shine with Gallantry , and all The English Youth flock to their Admiral , The valiant Duke , whose early Deeds ab●oad , Such Rage in Fight , and Art in conduct show'd ; His bright Sword now a dearer Int'rest draws , Hi● Brothers , Glory , ●nd His Countries Cause . Let thy bold Pencil , Hope , and Courage spread Through the whole Nav● , by that Hero● led ; Make all appear , where such a Prince is by , Resolv'd to Conquer , or resolv'd to Die : With His Extraction , and His Glorious mind Make the proud Sails swell , more than with the 〈◊〉 eventing Cannon , make His louder Fame 〈◊〉 the Batanians , and their Fury tame : 〈◊〉 Wolves , though greedy of their Prey , 〈◊〉 When they find a Lion in their way . 〈◊〉 him bestride the Ocean , and Mankind 〈◊〉 His Consent , to use the Sea and Wind : ●hile his tall ships in the barr'd Channel stand , 〈◊〉 grasps the Indies in His armed Hand . Paint an East-wind , and make it blow away 〈◊〉 excuse of Holland for their Navies stay ; ●ake them look pale , and the bold Prince to shu●● , Through the cold North , and Rocky Regions run ; ●o find the Coast where Morning first appears , ●y the dark Pole the wary Belgian steers , Confessing now , He dreads the English more , ●han all the dangers of a frozen Shore ; ●hile from our Arms security to find , ●hey flie so far , they leave the Day behind ▪ Describe their Fleet abandoning the Sea , And all their Merchants left a wealthy Prey ; Our first success in War , make Bacchus Crown , And half the Vintage of the Year our own : The Dutch their Wine , and all their Brandy lo●● Disarm'd of that , from which their Courage grow● While the glad Englsh , to relieve their toil , In Healths to their great Leader drink the spoil : His high Command to Africks Coast extend , And make the Moors before the English bend : Those barbarous Pirates willingly receive Conditions , such as we are pleas'd to give ; Deserted by the Dutch , let Nations know , We can our own , and their great business do ; False Friends chastise , and common Foes restrain , Which worse than Tempests did infest the Main . Within those Streights make Holland's Smirna Fle●● With a small Squadron of the English meet ; Like Falcons these , those like a numerous Flock Of Fowl , which scatter to avoid the Shock . There paint Confusion in a various shape , Some sink , some yield , and flying some escape : ●●rope and Africa from either shore ●ectators are , and hear our Cannon roar ; While the divided world , in this agree , Men that Fight so , deserve to rule the Sea. ●ut nearer home , thy Pencil use once more , 〈◊〉 place our Navy by the Holland shore ; The World they compass'd while they fought with 〈◊〉 here already they resign the Main : Spain , Those greedy Mariners , out of whose way , ●issusive Nature could no Region lay , ●t home preserv'd , from Rocks and Tempests lie● ▪ Compel'd , like others , in their Beds to die ; Their single Towns th' Iberian Armies prest , We all their Provinces at once invest , And in a Month Ruine their Tra●●ique more , Than that long War could in an Age before . But who can always on the Billows lie ? The watry Wilderness yields no supply ; Spreading our Sails , to Harwich we resort , And meet the Beauties of the British Court , Th' Illustrious Dutchess , and her Glorious Train , Like Thetis with her Nymphs adorn the Main ; The gazing Sea-gods , since the Paphian Queen Sprung from among them , no such sight had se● Charm'd with the Graces of a Troop so fair , Those deathless Powers for us themselves 〈◊〉 Resolv'd the aid of Neptune's Court to bring , And help the Nation where such Beauties sprin● The Soldier here his wasted store supplies , And takes new Valor from the Ladies Eyes : Mean while like Bees when stormy Winter's goo● The Dutch ( as if the Sea were all their own ) Desert their Ports , and falling in their way ●ur Hamburgh Merchants are become their Prey ; Thus flourish they , before th' approaching Fight , As dying Tapers give a blazing Light. To check their Pride , our Fleet half victual'd goes ; ●nough to serve us till we reach our Foes , Who now appear so numerous and bold , The Action worthy of our Arms we hold ; A greater force than that which here we find , ●●'re press'd the Ocean , nor employ'd the Wind. ●estrain'd a while by the unwelcom Night , ●h ' impatient English scarce attend the Light. But now the Morning , Heav'n severely clear , ●o the flerce Work Indulgent does appear ; And Phoeb●s lists above the Waves his Light , That he might see , and thus record the Fight : As when loud winds from different quarters rush , ●ast Clouds incountring , one another crush ▪ With swelling Sails , so , from their several Coasts , Join the Batavian and the British Hoasts . For a less Prize , with less Concern and Rage , The Roman Fleets at Actium did Engage ; They for the Empire of the World they knew . These for the Old contend , and for the New : At the first shock , with Blood and Powder stain'd Nor Heaven , nor Sea , their former face retain'd ; Fury and Art produce Effects so strange , They trouble Nature , and her Visage change : Where burning Ships the banish'd Sun supply ▪ And no Light shines , but that by which men die ▪ There YORK appears ▪ so prodigal ▪ is he Of Royal Blood as ancient as ▪ the Sea ▪ Which down to Him so many Ages told , Has through the veins of Mighty Monarchs roll'd The great Achilles march'd not to the Field , Till Vulcan that impenetrable Shield And Arms had wrought , yet there no Bullets flew , ●ut Shafts and Darts , which the weak Ph●ygians threw ; Our bolder Heroe on the Deck does stand Expos'd the Bulwark of his Native Land ▪ Defensive Arms ●aid by , as useless here , Where massie Balls the Neighbouring Rocks do tear : Some Power unseen those Princes do's pro●●ct , Who for their Countrey thus themselves neglect . Against Him first Opdam his Squadron leads , Proud of his late Success against the suedis , Made by that Action , and his high Command , Worthy to perish by a Princes Hand : The tall Batavian in a vast Ship rides , ●aring an Army in her hollow sides , ●t not inclin'd the English Ship to board , 〈…〉 , than on his Sword , From whence a fatal Volly we receiv'd , It miss'd the Duke , but His Great Heart ● griev'd ; Three worthy Persons from His side it tore , And dy'd His Garment with their scatter'd Gore : Happy ! to whom this glorious death arrives , More to be valu'd ●han a thousand Lives ! On such a Theatre , as this , to die , For such a Cause , and such a Witness by ! Who would not thus a Sacrifice be made , To have his Blood on such an Altar laid ? The rest about Him strook with horror stood , To see their Leader cover'd o●re with Blood ; So trembl'd Iacob , when he thought the stains Of his Sons Coat had issued from his veins : He feels no wound , but in his troubled thought Before for Honour , now Revenge He fought , His Friends in pieces torn , the bitter News Not brought by Fame , with His own Eys He views ; 〈◊〉 Mind at once reflecting on their Youth , Their Worth , their Love , their Valour , and their Truth , The joys of Court , their Mothers and their Wives To follow Him abandon'd , and their Lives . He storms , and shoots ; but flying Bullets now To execute His Rage , appear too slow ; They miss , or sweep but common Souls away , For such a Loss , Opdam his Life must pay : Encouraging His Men , He gives the Word , With fierce intent that hated Ship to Board , And make the guilty Dutch , with His own Arm , Wait on His Friends , while yet their Blood is warm : His winged Vessel like an Eagle shows , When through the Clouds to truss a Swan she goes ; The Belgian Ship unmov'd , like some huge Rock Inhabiting the Sea , expects the shock : From both the Fleets Mens eyes are bent this 〈◊〉 Neglecting all the business of the day , Bullets their flight , and Guns their noise suspend , The silent Ocean does th' event attend , Which Leader shall the doubtfull vict'ry bless , And give an earnest of the Wars success ; When Heav'n it self for England to declare , Turns Ship , and Men , and Tackle into Air ; Their new Commander from his Charge is ●o●t , Which that young Prince had so unjustly lost , Whose great Progenitors with better Fate , And better Conduct sway'd their Infant State. His flight tow'rds Heav'n th' aspiring Belgian took ▪ But fell like Phaeton with Thunder strook , From vaster hopes than his , he seem'd to fall , That durst attempt the British Admiral : From her Broad-sides , a ruder Flame is thrown , Than from the fiery Chariot of the Sun ; That bears the radiant Ensign of the day , And she the Flag that Governs in the Sea. The Duke ill pleas'd that Fire should thus prevent The work which for His brighter sword He meant , Anger still burning in His vallant breast , Goes to compleat Revenge upon the rest ; So on the guardless Herd their Keeper slain , Rushes a Tyger in the Lybian Plain . The Dutch accustom'd to the raging Sea , And in black Storms the frowns of Heav'n to see , Never met Tempest which more urg'd their fears , Than that which in the Prince His look appears ; Fierce , Goodly , Young , Mars he resembles , when Iove sends him down to scourge per●idious Men , Such as with foul Ingratitude have paid Both those that Led , and those that gave them Aid ; Where He gives on , disposing of their Fates , Terror and Death on His loud Cannon waits , With which He pleads His Brothers Cause so well ▪ He shakes the Throne to which He does appeal ; The Sea with spoil His angry Bullets strow , Widows and Orphans making as they go ; Before His Ship , fragments of Vessels torn , Flags , Arms , And Belgian Carcasses are born , And his despairing Fo●s to flight inclin'd ▪ Spread all their Canvas to invite the Wind : So the rude Boreas where he lists to blow , Makes Clouds above , and Billows flie below ▪ Beating the Shore , and with a boisterous rage Does Heav'n at once , and Earth , and Sea ingage : The Dutch elsewhere , did through the watry field Perform enough to have made others yield ; But English Courage growing as they fight , In Danger , Noise , and Slaughter takes delight ; Their bloody Task , unwearied still , they ply , Only restrain'd by Death , or Victory : Iron and Lead , from Earths dark Entrails torn , Like show'rs of Hail from either side are born ▪ So high the Rage of wretched Mortals goes , Hurling their Mothers Bowels at their Foes , Ingenious to their Ruine , every Age Improves the Arts , and Instruments of Rage ; Death hast'ning ills Nature enough has sent , And yet Men still a thousand more invent . But Bacchus now which led the Belgians on So fierce at first , to favour us begun ; Brandee and Wine , their wonted Friends , at length Render them useless , and betray their strength : So Corn in Fields , and in the Garden Flowers , Revive , and raise themselves with moderate show●●● ; But overcharg'd with never-ceafing Rain , Become too moist , and bend their heads again : Their reeling Ships on one another fall , Without a Foe enough to ruine all : Of this Disorder , and the favouring Wind , The watchful English such advantage find , Ships fraught with Fire among the heap they throw , And up the so intangled B●lgians blow ; The Flame invades the Powder-Rooms , and then Their Guns shoot Bullets , and their Vessels Men ; The scorcht Batavians on the Billows float , Sent from their own to pass in Charon's Boat. And now our Royal Admiral , Success With all the marks of Victory does bless ; The burning Ships , the taken , and the slain , Proclaim His Triumph o're the conquer'd Main : Nearer to Holland as their hasty flight Carries the noise and tumult of the Fight , His Cannons roar , Forerunner of His Fame , Makes their Hague tremble , and their Amsterdam ▪ The Eritish Thunder does their Houses rock , And the Duke seems at every door to knock ; His dreadful Streamer like a Comets hair Threatning Destruction , hastens their Despair , Makes them deplore their scatter'd Fleet as lost ▪ And fear our presen● Landing on their Coast. The trembling Dutch th' approaching 〈◊〉 behold , As Sheep a Lion leaping tow'rds their Fold ; Those Piles which serve them to repel the Main . They think too weak His fury to restrain : What Wonders may not English Valor work ▪ Led by th' Example of victorious YORK ? Or what Defence against Him can they make , Who at such distance does their Countrey shake ? His fatal Hand their Bulwarks will o'rethrow , And let in both the Ocean and the Foe : Thus cry the People , and their Land to keep , Allow our Title to command the Deep , Blaming their States ill Conduct to provoke Those Arms which freed them from the Spanish yoke . Painter , excuse me , if I have a while Forgot thy Art , and us'd another Stile ; For though you draw arm'd Heroes as they sit , The task in Battel does the Muses ●it ; They in the dark confusion of a Fight Discover all , instruct us how to write , And Light and Honour to brave Actions yield , Hid in the smoke and tumult of the Field . Ages to come shall know that Leaders toil , And His Great Name on whom the Muses smile ; Their Dictates here let thy fam'd Pencil trace And this Relation with thy Colours grace . Then draw the Parliament , the Nobles met , And our Great Monarch , High above Them set ; Like young August●s let His Image be , Triumphing for that Victory at Sea , Where Egypts Queen , and Eastern Kings o'rethrown , Made the possession of the World His own . Last draw the Commons at His Royal Feet , Pouring out Treasure to supply His Fleet ; They vow with Lives and Fortunes to maintain Their King 's Eternal Title to the Main , And with a Present to the Duke approve His Valor , Conduct , and His Countries Love. TO THE KING . GREAT SIR , Disdain not in this piece ●o stand Supreme Commander both of Sea and Land ▪ Those which inhabit the Celestial Bower , P●imers express with Emblems of their Pow'r ; His Club Al●ides , Phoebus has his Bowe , Iove has his Thunder , and Your Navy You. But Your Great Providence no Colours here Can Represent ; nor Pencil draw that Care Which keeps You waking , to secure our Peace , The Nations Glory , and our Trades increase ; You for these Ends whole days in Council sit , And the Diversions of Your Youth forget . Small were the worth of Valor and of Force , If Your high Wisdom govern'd not their Course ; You as the Soul , as the first Mover You Vigor and Lif● on every Part bestow , How to build Ships , and dreadful Ordinance cast , Instruct the Artists , and reward their Haste : So Iove himself , when Typhon Heav'n does brave ▪ Descends to visit Vulcan's smoky Cave , Teaching the brawny Cyclops how to frame His Thunder mixt with Terror , Wrath and Flame . Had the old Greeks discover'd Your abode , Crete had not been the Cradle of their God , On that small Island they had look'd with scorn , And in Great Britain thought the Thunderer born . TO A Friend of the AUTHORS , A Person of HONOVR : Who lately writ a Religious Book , Entituled , Historical Applications , and occasional Meditations upon several Subjects . BOld is the Man that dares ingage For Piety , in such an Age. Who can presume to find a Guard From Scorn , when Heaven 's so little spar'd ? Divines are pardon'd , they defend Altars on which their Lives depend : But the Prophane impatient are When Nobler Pens make this their care . For why should these let in a Beam Of Divine Light to trouble them ▪ And call in doubt their pleasing Thought , That none believes what we are taught ? High Birth and Fortune warrant give , That such Men write what they believe ▪ And feeling first what they indite , New credit give to ancient Light. Amongst these few our Author brings His well-known Pedigree from Kings . This Book , the Image of his Mind , Will make his Name not hard to find . I wish the Throng of Great and Good Made it less eas'ly understood . To Mr. Henry Lawes , who had then newly set a Song of mine in the Year 1635. VErse makes Heroick Vertue live , But you can Life to Verses give : As when in open Air we blow , The Breath ( though strain'd ) sounds flat and low ; But if a Trumpet take the blast , It lifts it high , and makes it last : So in your Ayrs our Numbers drest Make a shrill sally from the Brest Of Nymphs , who singing what we pen'd , Our passions to themselves commend , While Love victorious with thy Art Governs at once their Voice and Heart ; You by the help of Tune and Time , Can make that Song which was but Rime . Noy pleading , no man doubts the Cause , Or questions Verses set by LAWS . As a Church-window thick with Paint , Le ts in a light but dim and faint ; So others with Division hide The light of Sence , the Poets pride , But you alone may truly boast That not a Syllable is lost ; The Writers and the Setter's skill At once the ravisht Ears do fill . Let those which only warble long , And Gargle in their Throats a Song , Content themselves with VT , RE , MI , Let Words and Sence be set by thee . Vpon Her Majesties New Buildings at Somerset-House . GReat Queen , that does our Island bless , With Princes and with Palaces ; Treated so ill , chac'd from your Throne , Returning , you adorn the Town , And with a brave Revenge do show , Their Glory went and came with you . While Peace from hence , and you were gone Your houses in that Storm o'rethrown Those wounds which Civil Rage did give , ●t once you Pardon and Relieve : Constant to England in your Love , As Birds are to their wonted Grove , Though by rude hands their Nests are spoil'd , There , the next Spring again they build : Accusing some malignant Star , Not Britain , for that fatal War , Your Kindness banishes your Fear , Resolv'd to fix for ever here . But what new Mine this work supplies ? Can such a Pile from Ruine rise ? This like the first Creation shows , As if at your Command it rose ; Frugality , and Bounty too , Those differing Virtues meet in you ; From a confin'd well-manag'd Store You both employ , and feed the Poor : Let Foreign 〈…〉 boast The rude 〈…〉 Pride and Cost , Of 〈…〉 to which They Contribute nothing , but the Pay : This , by the Queen her self design'd , Gives us a pattern of her mind ; The State and Order does proclaim The Genius of that Royal Dame , Each part with just proportion grac'd , And all to such advantage plac'd , That the fair View her Window yields , The Town , the River , and the Fields Entring , Beneath us we descry , And wonder how we came so high ; She needs no weary steps ascend , All seems before her feet to bend , And here , as She was born , She lies High , without taking pains to rise . On the Picture of a fair Youth taken after he was dead . AS gather'd Flowers , whilst their wounds are new , Look gay and fresh , as on the stalk they grew , Torn from the root that nourist them , a while , Not taking notice of their Fate , they smile , And in the hand , which rudely pluckt them , show Fairer than those that to their Autumn grow ; So Love and Beauty still that Visage grace , Death cannot fright them from their wonted place Alive the hand of crooked Age had marr'd Those lovely Features , which cold death has spar'd No wonder then — The rest is lost . Epigram upon the Golden Medal . OUR Guard upon the Royal side , On the Reverse , Our Beauty's pride Here we discern , the Frown and Smile , The Force and Glory of Our Isle ; In the rich Medal both so like Immortals stand , it seems Antique , Carv'd by some Master , when the bold Greeks made their Iove descend in Gold , And Danae wond'ring at that showr , Which falling , storm'd her brazen Tow'r ; Britannia there , the Fort in vain Had batter'd been with Golden Rain ; Thunder it self had fail'd to pass , Vertue 's a stronger Guard than Brass . Of a Tree cut in Paper . FAir Hand that can on Virgin-paper write , Yet from the stain of Ink preserve it white , Whose travel o're that Silver Field does show , Like track of Leveretts in morning Snow ; Love's Image thus in purest minds is wrought , Without a spot or blemish to the thought ; Strange that your Fingers should the Pencil foil Without the help of Colours , or of Oil ; For though a Painter Boughs and Leaves can make , 'T is you alone can make them bend and shake , Whose Breath salutes your new created Grove Like Southern winds , and makes it gently move ; Orpheus could make the Forest dance , but you Can make the Motion and the Forest too . To a Lady from whom he received the foregoing Copy which for many years had been lost . NOthing lies hid from radiant Eyes , All they subdue become their Spies : Secrets , as choicest Jewels are Presented to oblige the Fair , No wonder then , that a lost thought Should there be found , where Souls are caught . The Picture of fair Venus , That , For which , men say , The Goddess sate , Was lost , till Lilly from your Look , Again that Glorious Image took ; If Vertue 's self were lost , we might From your fair Mind new Copies write : All things , but one , you can restore , The Heart you get returns no more . The Night-piece , or a Picture drawn in the dark . DArkness , which fairest Nymphs disarms , Defends us ill from Mira's Charms ; Mira can lay her Beauty by , Take no advantage of the Eye , Quit all that Lilly's Art can take , And yet a thousand Captives make ; Her Speech is grac't with sweeter Sound , Than in another's Song is found , And all her well-plac'd words are Darts , Which need no Light to reach our Hearts . As the bright Stars and milky way , Show'd by the Night , are hid by Day ; So we in that accomplisht Mind , Helpt by the Night , new Graces find , Which by the splendor of her view Dazled before we never knew ; While we converse with her , we mark No want of Day , nor think it dark ; Her shining Image is a light Fixt in our hearts , and conquers Night ; Like Jewels to advantage set , Her Beauty by the shade does get ; There , Blushes , Frowns , and cold Disdain , All , that our Passion might restrain Is hid , and our Indulgent mind Presents the fair Idea kind . Yet friended by the Night , we dare , Only in whispers , tell our Care ; He that on her his bold hand lays With Cupid's pointed Arrows plays , They , with a touch , they are so keen , Wound us unshot , and She unseen ; All near approaches threaten Death , We may be shipwrackt by her Breath . Love favour'd once , with that sweet Gale , Doubles his Haste , and fills his Sail , Till he arrive , where she must prove The Haven , or the Rock , of Love ; So we th' Arabian Coast do know , At distance , when the Spices blow , By the rich Odour taught to steer , Though neither Day , nor Stars appear . Of English Verse . POets may boast [ as safely-Vain ] Their work shall with the world remain : Both bound together , live , or die , The Verses and the Prophecy . But who can hope his Lines should long Last in a daily-changing Tongue ? While they are new , Envy prevails , And as that dies , our Language fails . When Architects have done their part , The Matter may betray their Art ; Time , if we use ill-chosen Stone , Soon brings a well-built Palace down . Poets that lasting Marble seek , Must carve in Latine or in Greek ; We write in Sand , our Language grows , And like the Tide our work o'reflows . Chaucer his Sense can only boast , The glory of his Numbers lost , Years have defac'd his matchless strain ; And yet he did not sing in vain ; The Beauties which adorn'd that Age , The shining Subjects of his Rage , Hoping they should Immortal prove , Rewarded with success his Love. This was the generous Poet's scope , And all an English Pen can hope To make the Fair approve his Flame , That can so far extend their Fame . Verse thus design'd has no ill Fate , If it arrive but at the Date Of fading Beauty , if it prove But as long-liv'd as present Love. Sung by Mrs. Knight , to Her Majesty on Her Birth-day . THis happy day two Lights are seen , A Glorious Saint , a Matchless Queen ; Both nam'd alike , both Crown'd appear , The Saint above , th' Infanta here : May all those years which Catherine The Martyr did for Heav'n resign , Be added to the Line Of Your blest Life amongst us here . For all the pains that She did feel , And all the Torments of Her Wheel : May You as many Pleasures share ; May Heaven it self content With Catherine the Saint . Without appearing old , An hundred times may You , With Eyes as bright as now This welcome Day behold . To his Worthy Friend Sir Thomas Higgons , upon his Translation of the Venetian Triumph . THE winged Lion's not so fierce in ●ight As Liber's hand presents him to our Sight , Nor would his Pencil make him half so fierce , Or roar so loud as Businello's Verse ; But your Translation does all three excell , The Fight , the Piece , and lofty Businel : As their small Gallies may not hold compare With our tall Ships , whose Sails employ more Air ▪ So does th' Italian to your Genius vaile , Mov'd with a fuller and a nobler Gale : Thus while your Muse spreads the Venetian story , You make all Europe emulate her Glory : You make them blush , weak Venice should defen● The cause of Heaven , while they for words contend ▪ Shed Christian Blood , and populous Cities raze , Because the'yre taught to use some different Phraze . 〈◊〉 list'ning to your Charms we could our Jars Compose , and on the Turk discharge these Wars ▪ Our British Arms the sacred Tomb might wrest From Pagan hands , and Triumph o're the 〈◊〉 : And then you might our own high Deeds recite , And with great Tasso celebrate the Fight . Epitaph . HEre lies Charles Candish : let the Marble Stone That hides his Ashes , make his Virtue known : ●eauty and Valor did his short Life grace , ●he Grief and Glory of his Noble Race : ●arly abroad he did the World survey , ●s if He knew he had not long to stay ; Saw what Great Alex●nder in the East , And mighty Julius conquer'd in the West ; Then with a Mind , as great as theirs , he came To find at home occasion for his Fame ; Where dark Confusion did the Nations hide , And where the Juster was the we●ker side Two Loyal Brothers took their Sovereign's part ; Imploy'd their Wealth , their Courage , and their Art ▪ The Elder did whole Regiments afford , The Younger brought his Conduct and his Sword ; Born to Command , a Leader he begon , And on the Rebels lasting Honour won : The Horse instructed by their General 's worth , Still made the King victories in the North ; Where Candish fought , the Royalists prevail'd , Neither his Courage nor his Judgment fail'd ; The Current of his Victories found no stop ; Till Cromwel came , his Parties chiefest prop ▪ Equal success had set these Champions high , And both resolved to Conquer , or to Die : Vertue with Rage , Fury with Valor ●●rove ; But that must fall which is decreed Above . Cromwel , with odds of Number , and of Fate , Remov'd this Bulwark of the Church and State ; Which the sad Issue of the War declar'd , And made his Task to ruine both less hard : So when the Bank neglected is o'rethrown , The boundles Torrent doth the Countrey drown . Thus fell the Young , the Lovely , and the Brave , Strow Bays and Flowera on his honoured Grave . Of Her Royal Highness Mother to the Prince of Orange , and of Her Portraict written by the late Dutchess of York while She lived with Her. HEroick Nymph , in Tempests the Support , In Peace the Glory of the British Court , Into whose Arms the Church , the State , and all That precious is , or Sacred here , did fall . Ages to come , that shall your Bounty hear , Will think you Mistriss of the Indies were : Thô streighter Bounds your Fortune did consine , In your large Heart was found a wealthy Mine ; Like the bles't Oil , the Widow's lasting Feast , Your Treasure , as you pour'd it out , increas't . While some your Beauty , some your Bounty sing , Your native Isle do's with your Praises ring : But above all , a Nymph of your own Train , Gives us your Character in such a strain , As none but She , who in that Court did dwell , Could know such Worth , or Worth describe so well : So while we Mortals here at Heav'n do guess , And more our Weakness than the Place express ; Some Angel , a Domestick there , comes down , And tells the Wonders he hath seen and known . To the Dutchess of Orleans , when She was taking Leave of the Court at Dover . THat Sun of Beauty did among us rise , England first saw the Light of your fair Eyes ; In English too your early Wit was shown ; Favour that Language which was then your own , When , though a Child , through Guards you made your way , What Fleet or Army could an Angel stay ? Thrice happy Britain ! If she could retain Whom she first bred within her ambient Main . Our late-burnt London in Apparel new Shook off her Ashes to have treated you ; But we must see our Glory snatcht away , And with warm Tears increase the guilty Se● : No Wind can favour us ; how e're it blows , We must be wreckt , and our dear Treasure lose Sighs will not let us half our Sorrows tell ; Fair , Lovely , Great , and best of Nymphs , Farewell ▪ Written on a Card that Her Majesty tore at Ombra . THE Cards you ●are in Value rise , So do the Wounded by your Eyes : Who to Celestial things aspire , Are by that Passion rais'd the higher . To the Dutchess , when he presented this Book to Her Royal Highness . Madam , I Here present you with the Rage , And with the Beauties of a former Age ; Wishing you may with as great Pleasure view This , as we take in Gazing upon you : Thus we writ then , your brighter Eyes inspire , Anobler Flame , and raise our ●●nius higher : While we your Wit and early Knowledge fear , To our Productions we become severe ; Your matchless Beauty gives our Fancy wing ▪ Your Judgment makes us careful how we sing . ●ines not compos'd , as heretofore , in haste , ●olisht , like Marble , shall like Marble last ; And make you through as many Ages shine , As Tasso has the Hero's of your Line : Thô other Names our wary Writers use , You are the Subject of the British Muse , Dilating Mischief to your self unknown , Men write , and die , of Wounds they dare not own ; So the bright Sun burns all our Grass away , While it means nothing but to give us Day . These Verses were writ in the Tasso of Her Royal Highness . TAsso knew how the fairer Sex to Grace , But in no One , durst all Perfection place : In Her alone , that owns this Book , is seen , Clorinda's Spirit , and her lofty Meen , Sophronia's Piety , Erminia's Truth , Armida's Charms , her Beauty , and her Youth . Our Princes here , as in a Glass , do's dress Her well-taught Mind , and every Grace express : More to our Wonder , than Rinaldo fought , The Hero's Race excels the Poet's Thought , Upon our late Loss of the Duke of Cambridge . THE failing Blossoms which a young Plant bears , Ingage our Hope for the succeeding Years : And Hope is all which Art or Nature brings At the first Tryal to accomplish things . Mankind was first created an Essay , That ruder draft the Deluge washt away : How many Ages past , what Blood and Toil Before we made one Kingdom of this Isle ? How long in vain had Nature striv'd to frame A perfect Princess e're her Highness came ? For Joys so great we must with patience wait , 'T is the set-price of Happiness complete . As a First●fruit Heaven claim'd that lovely Boy , The Next shall live , and be the Nation 's Joy. Translated out of Spanish . THô we may seem importunate , While your Compassion we implore ; They whom you make too Fortunate , May with Presumption vex you more . Of the Lady Mary , &c. AS once the Lion Honey gave , Out of the strong such sweetness came ; A Royal Hero no less brave , Produc'd this sweet , this lovely Dame : To her the Prince that did oppose Such mighty Armies in the Field , And Holland from prevailing Foes Could so well free , himself does yield : Not Belgia's Fleet ( his high Command ) Which Triumphs where the Sun does rise , Nor all the Force he leads by Land , Could guard him from her conquering Eyes . Orange with Youth , Experience has ; In Action young , in Council old : Orange is what Augustus was , Brave , Wary , Provident , and Bold : On that fair Tree , which bears his Name , Blossoms and Fruit at once are found ; In him we all admire the same , His flow'ry Youth with wisdom Crown'd . Empire and Freedom Reconcil'd , In Holland are by Great Nassaw ; Like those he sprung from , Just and Mild , To willing People he gives Law. Thrice Happy Pair ! so Near Ally'd , In Royal Blood , and Virtue too ; Now Love has you together ty'd , May none this Triple knot undo . The Church shall be the happy place , Where streams which from the same source run , Thô divers Lands awhile they grace , Unite again and are made one . A thousand thanks the Nation ows To him that does protect us all ; For while he thus his Neece bestows , About our Isle he builds a Wall ; A Wall like that which Athens had , By th' Oracles advice , of wood : Had theirs been such as Charles has made , That mighty State till now had stood . To the Servant of a Fair Lady . This Copy of Verses being omitted in the former Edition . FAir Fellow-Servant , may your gentle Ear Prove more propitious to my slighted care , Than the bright Dames we serve ; for her Relief ( Vext with the long expressions of my Grief ) Receive these Plaints ; nor will her high disdain Forbid my humble Muse to court her Train : Thy skilful hand contributes to our Woe , And whets those Arrows which confound us so . A thousand Cupids in those Curls do sit , Those curious Nets thy slender Fingers knit : The Graces put not more exactly on Th' attire of Venus , when the Ball she won , Than that young Beauty by thy care is drest , When all our Youth prefers her to the rest . You the soft Season know , when best her Mind May be to Pity or to Love inclin'd ; In some well-chosen hour supply his ●ear , Whose hopeless Love durst never tempt the Ear Of that 〈◊〉 Goddess : you ( her Priest ) declar● What offerings may propitiate the Fair , Rich Orient Pearl , bright Stones that n're decay , Or polisht Lines which longer last than they : For if I thought she took delight in those , To where the chearful Morn do's first disclose ; ( The shady Night removing with her Beams ) Wing'd with bold Love , I 'de flie to fetch such gems ▪ But since her Eyes , her Teeth , her Lip excels , All that is found in Mines or Fishes shells ; Her Nobler part as far exceeding these , None but Immortal gifts her Mind should please : The shining Jewels Greece , and Troy bestow'd On Spar●an's Queen , her lovely Neck did lode , And snowy 〈◊〉 ●ut when the Town was burn'd , Those fading 〈◊〉 were to Ashes turn'd ▪ Her Beauty too had perish● and her Fame , Had not the 〈…〉 from the Flame . Vpon the Earl of Roscommon's Translation of Horace De Arte Poetica : And of the Use of Poetry . ROme was not better by her Horace taught , Than we are here to comprehend his thought ▪ The Poet writ to Noble Piso there , A Noble Piso do's instruct us here , Gives us a pattern in his flowing Style , And with rich Precepts do's oblige our Isle ; Britain , whose Genius is in Verse exprest ●old and Sublime , but negligently drest . Horace will our superfluous Branches 〈◊〉 Give us new Rules , and set our Harp in tune ; Direct us how to back the winged Horse , Favour his flight , and moderate his force . Thô Poets may of Inspiration boast ; Their Rage ill govern'd , in the Clouds is lost . He that proportion'd wonders can disclose , At once his Fancy and his Judgment shows . Chaste moral writing we may learn from hence ; Neglect of which no Wit can recompence : The Fountain which from Helicon proceeds , That sacred stream should never water weeds ; Nor make the Crop of thorns and thistles grow , Which Envy or perverted Nature sow . Well sounding Verses are the Charm we use , Heroick Thoughts , and Vertue to infuse ; Things of deep sence we may in Prose unfold , But they move more , in lofty Numbers told ; By the loud Trumpet , which our Courage aids , We learn that sound , as well as sence , perswades . The Muse's Friend unto himself severe ; With silen● pity looks on all that E●r ; But where a brave , a publick Action shines ; That he rewards with his Immortal Lines . Whether it be in Council or in Fight ; His Countries Honour is his chief delight : Praise of great Acts he seatters , as a seed , Which may the like , in coming Ages breed . Here taught the fate of Verses , always priz'd With admiration , or as much despis'd ; Men will be less indulgent to their Faults , And patience have so cultivate their thoughts : Poets lo●e hal● the praise they should have got , Could it be known what they discreetly blot : Finding new Words , that to the Ravisht Ear May like the Language of the Gods appear ; Such as of old , wife Bards employ'd , to make Unpolisht Men their wild Retreats forsake ; Law giving Heroes , fam'd for taming Brutes , And raising Cities with their charming Lutes : For rudest minds with Harmony were caught , And civil Life was by the Muses taught . So wandring Bees would perish in the Air , Did not a sound proportion'd to their Ear , Appease their Rage , invite them to the Hive , Unite their Force , and teach them how to thrive , To rob the Flowers , and to forbear the Spoil ; Preserv'd in Winter by their Summers Toil , They give us Food , which may with Nectar vie , And Wax , that do's the absent Sun supply . Epitaph on Sir George Speke . UNder this Stone lies Vertue , Youth , Unblemisht Probity and Truth : Just unto all Relations known , A worthy Patriot , Pious Son. Whom Neib ouring Towns so often sent , To give their Sence in Parliament ; With Lives and Fortunes trusting one , Who so discreetly us'd his own . Sober he was , Wise , Temperate ; Contented with an Old Estate , Which no soul A varice did increase , Nor Wanton Luxury make less . While yet but Young , his Father dy'd , And left him to an happy Guide : Not Lemuel's Mother with more care Did counsel or instruct her Heir ; Or teach with more success her Son The Vices of the Time to shun . An Heiress she , while yet alive , All that was her's to him did give : And he just Gratitude did show To one that had oblig'd him so ; Nothing too much for her he thought , By whom he was so bred and taught ; So early made that path to tread , Which did his Youth to Honour lead . His short Life did a P●ttern give , How Neighbors , Husbands , Friends should live . The Vertue of a private Life Exceed the glorious Noise and Strife Of Battels won ; in th●se we find The solid In●rest of Mankind . Approv'd by all , and lov'd so well , Tho' Young , like Fru● that ripe , he fell . Of Her Majesty on New-years Day , 1683. WHat Revolutions in the World have been , How are we chang'd , since first we saw the Queen ? She , like the Sun , do's still the same appear , Bright as She was at her Arrival here : Time has Commission Mortals to impair , But things Celestial is oblig'd to spare . May ev'ry New-year find her still the same , In Health and Beauty as She hither came ; When Lords and Commons with united Voice , Th' Infanta nam'd , approv'd the Royal Choice : First of our Queens , whom not the King alone , But the whole Nation lifted to the Throne . With like Consent , and like Desert was crown'd The Glorious Prince , that do's the Turk confound . Victorious both ; his Conduct wins the day , And her Example chaces Vice away . Thô louder Fame attend the Martial Rage ; 'T is greater Glory to Reform the Age. A Presage of the Ruine of the Turkish Empire , Presented to His Majesty on His Birth-Day . SInce IAMES the Second grac'd the British Throne , Truce well observ'd has been infring'd by none . Christians to him their present Union ow , And late Success against the Common Foe : While Neighb'ring Princes , loath't to urge their Fate , Court his Assistance , and suspend their Hate . So angry Bulls the Combat do forbear , When from the Wood a Lyon do's appear . This happy day Peace to our Island sent , As now he gives it to the Continent . ● Prince more fit for such a Glorious task Than England's King , from Heav'n we cannot ask : ●e Great and Good , proportion'd to the Work , Their ill-drawn Swords shall turn against the Turk . Such Kings , like Stars , with influence unconfin'd , ●●ine with Aspect propitious to Mankind ; ●avour the Innocent , repress the Bold , ●ndwhile they flourish , make an Age of Gold. Bred in the Camp , fam'd for his Valor young , At Sea successful , vigorous and strong ; His Fleet , His Army , and His mighty Mind Esteem and Revrence through the World do find ▪ A Prince with such advantages as these , Where He persuades not , may command a Peace ▪ Britain declaring for the juster side , The most Ambitious will forget their Pride ; They that complain , will their endeavors cease , Advis'd by Him incline to present Peace ; Join to the Turks destruction , and then bring All their Pretences to so just a King. If the successful Troublers of Mankind , With Laurel crown'd , so great Applause do find ; Shall the vext World less Honour yield to those That stop their Progress , and their Rage oppose ▪ Next to that Pow'r , which do's the Ocean ●w , Is to set Bounds , and give Ambition Law. The British Monarch shall the Glory have , That famous Greece remains no longer Slave ; That source of Art and cultivated Thought , Which they to Rome , and Romans hither brought . The banisht Muses shall no longer mourn ; But may with Liberty to Greece return : Thô Slaves , ( like Birds that sing not in a Cage ) They lost their Genius and Poetick Rage ; Homers again , and Pinda●s may be found , And his great Actions with their numbers crown'd . The Turk's vast Empire do's united stand ; Christians divided under the Command Of jarring Princes , would be soon undone , Did not this Hero make their Int'rest one ; Peace to embrace , ruine the Common Foe , Exalt the Cross , and lay the Croissant low . Thus may the Gospel to the rising Sun Be spread , and flourish where it first begun ; And this great day , so justly honour'd here , Known to the East , and celebrated there . Haec Ego longaevus cecini tibi m●xime Regum : Ausus & ipse m●nu juvenum tentare laborem . Virgil. OF Divine Love. 6. CANTO'S . ASserting the Authority of the Scripture , in which this Love is reveal'd . The Prefer●nce and Love of God to Man in the Creation . The same Love more amply declared in our Redemption . How necessary this Love is to reform Mankind , and how excellent in it self . Sh●wing h●w happy the World would be if this Love were univers●lly embrac'd . Of preserving this Love in our memory , and how useful the Contemplation thereof is . CANTO I. THe Grecian Muse has all their Gods surviv'd ▪ Nor Iove at us , nor Phoebus is arriv'd ; Frail Deities , which first the Poets made , And then invok'd , to give their Fancies aid ! Yet if they still divert us with their Rage , What may be hop'd for in a better Age ? When not from Helicon's imagin'd Spring , But sacred Writ , we borrow what we Sing : This with the Fabrick of the World begun , Elder than Light , and shall out-last the Sun. Before this Oracle ( like Dagon ) all The false Pretenders , Delphos , Hammon , fall ; Long since despis'd , and silent they afford Honour and Triumph to th' Eternal Word . As late Philosophy our Globe has grac'd , And rowling Earth among the Planets plac'd ; So has this Book intitl'd us to Heav'n , And Rules to guide us to that Mansion giv●n : Tells the conditions , how our Peace was made ▪ And is our Pledge for the great Author's aid ▪ His Power in Nature's ampler Book we find ; But the less Volume do's express his mind . This Light unknown , bold Epicurus taught ▪ That his blest Gods vouchsafe us not a thought ; But unconcern'd , let all below them slide , As Fortune do's , or humane Wisdom , guide ▪ Religion thus remov'd , the sacred Yoke , And Band of all Society is broke : What use of Oaths , of Promise , or of Test ▪ Where Men regard no God but Interest ? What endless War would jealous Nations tear , ●f none above did witness what they swear ? Sad Fate of Unbelievers , ( and yet just ) Among themselves to find so little trust ! Were Scripture silent , Nature would proclaim , Without a God , our falshood and our shame . To know our Thoughts , the Object of his Eyes , Is the first step towards being good , or wise ; For thô with Judgment we on things reflect , Our Will determines , not our Intellect : Slaves to their Passion , Reason men employ Only to compass what they would enjoy ; His fear , to guard us from our selves , we need , And sacred Writ our Reason do's exceed . For the Heaven shows the Glory of the Lord , Yet something shines more Glorious in his Word ; His mercy this ( which all his work excels ) His tender kindness , and compassion tells : While we inform'd by that Celestial Book , Into the Bowels of our Maker look . Love there reveal'd , which never shall have end , Nor had beginning , shall our Song commend ; Describe it self , and warm us 〈◊〉 that flame , Which first from Heav'n , to make us Happy , came . CANTO II. THE fear of Hell , or aiming to be Blest , Savours too much of private Interest ; This mov'd not Moses , nor the zealous Paul , Who for their Friends abandon'd Soul and all : A greater yet , from Heav'n to Hell descends . To save , and make his Enemies his Friends ▪ What line of Praise can fathom such a Love , Which reacht the lowest bottom from above ? The Royal Prophet , that extended Grace From Heav'n to earth , measur'd but half that space : The Law was regnant , and confin'd his though● ▪ ●ell was not conquer'd , when that Poet 〈◊〉 ▪ Heav'n was ●earce heard of , until be came down To make the Region , where Love triumphs , known ▪ That early Love of Creatures yet unmade , To ●●ame the World th' Almighty did perswade : For Love it was , that first created Light , Mov'd on the Waters , cha●'d away the Night From the rude Chaos , and bestow'd new Grace On things dispos'd of to their proper place ; Some to rest here , and some to shine above : Earth , Sea , and Heav'n , were all th' Effects of Love ▪ And Love would be re●urn'd ; but there was none ▪ That to themselves , or others yet were known : The World a Palace was , without a Guest , Till one appears , that must excel she rest ; One , like the Author , whose Capacious mind Might by the Glorious Work , the Maker find ; Might measure Heaven , and give each Star a name ▪ With Art and Courage the rough 〈…〉 ; Over the Globe , with swelling Sails might go , And that 't is round , by his experience know ; Make strongest Beasts obedient to his Will , And serve his use the fertile Earth to Till . When by his Word , God had accomplisht all ; Man to Create , he did a Council call ; Imploy'd his Hand , to give the Dust he took A graceful Figure , and Majestick Look ; With his own Breath , convey'd into his Breast Life and a Soul fit to command the rest , Worthy alone to Celebrate his Name For such a Gift , and tell from whence it came : Birds sing his Praises , in a wilder Note , But not with lasting numbers , and with thought , Man's great Prerogative . But above all His Grace abounds , in his new Favorites fall . If he Create , it is a World he makes ; ●f he be ang'ry , the Creation shakes : From his just wrath our guilty Parents fled ; He curs't the Earth , but bruis'd the Serpent's head . Amidst the Storm , his Bounty did exceed , In the rich promise of the Virgins seed ; Thô Justice death as satisfaction craves , Love finds a way to pluck us from our Graves . CANTO III. NOT willing Terror should his Image move , He gives a Pattern of Eternal Love ; His Son descends , to treat a Peace with those , Which were , and must have ever been his Foes ; Poor he became , and left his Glorious Seat , To make us humble , and to make us great ; His business here was happiness to give To those , whose Malice could not let him live : Legions of Angels , which he might have us'd , For us resolv'd to perish , he refus'd ▪ While they stood ready to prevent his Loss , Love took him up , and nail'd him to the Cross ▪ Immortal Love ! which in his Bowels reign'd , That we might be by such a Love constrain'd To make return of Love ; upon this Pole Our Duty does , and our Religion rowle . To Love is to believe , to hope , to know , 'T is an Essay , a taste of Heav'n below . He to proud Potentates would not be known , Of those that lov'd him , he was hid from none . Till Love appear , we live in anxious doubt ; But Smoke will vanish , when that Flame breaks out : This is the Fire , that would consume our Dross , Re●ine , and make us richer by the Loss . Could we forbear Dispute , and practise Love , We should agree , as Angels do above . Where Love presides , not Vice alone does find No Entrance there , but Vertues stay behind ▪ Both Faith and Hope , and all the meaner train Of moral Vertues , at the door remain ; Love only enters , as a Native there , For born in Heav'n , it do's but sojourn here . He that alone , would wise and mighty be , Commands that others Love , as well as he : Love as he Lov'd , how can we soar so high ? He can add wings , when he commands to flie : Nor should we be with this Command dismay'd , He that Example gives , will give his Aid ; For he took flesh , that where his Precepts fail , His Practice as a Pattern may prevail ; His Love at once , and Dread instructs our thought , As Man he suffer'd , and as God he taught ; Will for the Deed he takes , we may with ease Obedient be , for if we Love , we please ; Weak thô we are , to Love is no hard task , And Love for Love , is all that Heav'n do's ask : Love , that would all men just and temperate make , Kind to themselves , and others , for his sake . 'T is with our Minds , as with a fertile ground ; Wanting this Love , they must with Weeds abound ; Unruly Passions , whose effects are worse , Than Thorns and Thistles springing from the curse . CANTO . IV. TO Glory Man , or Misery is born , Of his proud Foe the Envy or the Scorn ; Wretched he is , or happy in Extreme , Base in himself , but great in Heav'ns esteem ; With Love , of all created things , the best , Without it more pernicious than the rest . For greedy Wolves ung●arded Sheep devour But while their hunger lasts , and then give or'e ; Man 's boundless Avarice his want exceeds , And on his Neighbors , round about him , feeds : His Pride , and vain Ambition are so vast , That Deluge●like , they lay whole Nations wast ; Debauches and Excess , thô with less noise , As great a portion of Mankind destroys . The Beasts and Monsters , Hercules opprest , Might in that Age , some Provinces infest ; These more de●●ructive Monsters , are the Bane Of ev'ry Age , and in all Nations reign ; But soon would vanish , if the World were blest With Sacred Love , by which they are represt . Impendent death , and guilt that threatens Hell , Are dreadful guests , which here with Mortals dw●ll● , And a 〈◊〉 Conscience mingling with their Joy Thoughts of Despair , do's their whole Life annoy : But Love appearing , all those Terrors flie , We live contented , and contented die ; They in whose breast , this sacred Love has place , Death as a passage to their Joy embrace . Clouds and thick Vapors which obscure the day , The Suns victorious Beams may chase away ; Those which our Life corrupt , and darken , Love , The Nobler Star , must from the Soul remove : Spots are observ'd in that which bounds the year , This brighter Sun moves in a boundless Sphere ; Of Heav'n the Joy , the Glory , and the Light , Shines among Angels , and admits no Night . CANTO V. THis Iron Age , so fraudulent and bold , Toucht with this Love , would be an Age of Gold ; Not as they feign'd , that Oaks should Honey drop , Or Land neglected bear an unsown Crop : Love would make all things easy , safe , and cheap , None for himself , would either sow , or reap : Our ready Help , and mutual Love would yield A nobler Harvest , than the richest Field . Famine and Dearth , confin'd to certain parts , Extended are , by barrenness of Hearts ; Some pine for want , where others surfeit now , But then we should the use of Plenty know : Love would betwixt the Rich and Needy stand , And spread Heav'ns bounty with an equal hand ; At once the Givers , and Receivers bless , Encrease their Joy , and make their Sufferings less . Who for himself no Miracle would make , Dispens'd with Nature for the Peoples sake ; He that long Fasting would no wonder show , Made Loaves and Fishes , as they eat them , grow . Of all his Power , which boundless was above , Here he us'd none , but to express his Love ; And such a Love would make our Joy exceed , Not when our own , but other mouths we feed . Laws would be useless which rude Nature awe , Love changing Nature , would prevent the Law ; Tygers , and Lyons , into Dens we thrust , But milder Creatures with their freedom trust . Devils are chain'd , and tremble ; but the Spouse No force but Love , nor Bond , but Bounty , knows : Men , whom we now , so 〈◊〉 and dang'rous see , Would Guardian Angels to each other be : Such wonders can this mighty Love perform , Vultures to Doves , Wolves into Lambs transform . Love , what Isaiah prophecy'd , can do , Exalt the Vallies , lay the Mountains low : Humblethe Lofty , the Dejected raise , Smooth , and make strait , our rough and crooked ways . Love , strong as Death , and like it , levels all ; With that possest , the great in Title fall , Themselves esteem , but equal to the least , Whom Heav'n with that high Character has blest . This Love , the Centre of our Union , can Alone bestow complete Repose on Man ; Tame his wild Appetite , make inward Peace , And Foreign strife among the Nations cease : No Martial Trumpet should disturb our rest , Nor Princes Arm , thô to subdue the East ; Where for the Tomb ●●o many Hero's , taught By those that guided their Devotion , faught . Thrice Happy we , could we like Ardor have To gain his Love , as they to win his Grave ! Love as he Lov'd , a Love so unconfin'd With Arms extended would embrace Mankind . Self-Love would cease , or be dilated , when We should behold , as many Selfs , as Men ; All of one Family , in Blood ally'd , His precious Blood , that for our Ransom dy'd . CANTO VI. THô the Creation , so divinely taught , Prints such a lively Image in our thought , That the first spark of new Created light From Chaos struck , affects our present sight : Yet the first Christians did esteem more blest The day of Rising , than the day of Rest ; That ev'ry week might new occasion give , To make his Triumph in their memory live . Then let our Muse compose a Sacred Charm To keep his Blood , among us , ever warm ; And singing , as the Blessed do above , With our last breath dilate this ●lame of Love. But on so vast a Subject , who can find Words that may reach th' Idea's of his mind ? Our Language fails , or if it could supply , What Mortal Thought can raise it self so high ? Despairing here , we might abandon Art , And only hope to have it in our heart ; But though we find this Sacred Task too hard , Yet the Design , th'endeavor brings Reward ; The Contemplation does suspend our Woe , And makes a Truce with all the Ills we know . As Saul's afflicted Spirit , from the sound Of David's Harp , a present Solace found ; So on this Theam while we our Muse engage , No Wounds are felt , of Fortune , or of Age : On Divine Love to meditate is Peace , And makes all care of meaner things to cease . Amaz'd at once , and comforted to find A boundless Pow'r so infinitely kind ; The Soul contending to that Light to flie From her dark Cell , we practise how to die ; Imploying thus the Poet 's winged Art , To reach this Love , and grave it in our heart . Joy so complete , so solid and severe , Would leave no place for meaner Pleasures there ; Pale they would look , as Stars that must be gone , When from the East the Rising Sun comes on . Floriferis ut Apes in saltibus omnia libant , sic nos Scripturae depascimur aurea dicta ; Anrea perpetuâ semper dignissima vitâ . Nam Divinus Amor , cum coepit vociferari , Diffugiunt Animi Terrores : — Lucr. Exul eram , requiesque mihi , non Fama petita est , Mens intenta suis ne foret usque malis . Namque ubi mota calent Sacrâ mea Pectora Musâ , Altior humano Spiritus ille malo est . De Trist. OF Divine Poesie , TWO CANTOS , Occasioned upon sight of the 53d Chapter of Isaiah , turn'd into Verse by Mrs. Wharton . CANTO I. POets we prize , when in their Verse we find Some great employment of a worthy mind . Angels have been inquisitive to know The Secret , which this Oracle does show . What was to come Isaiah did declare , Which she describes , as if she had been there ; Had seen the Wounds , which to the Reader 's view , She draws so lively , that they Bleed a new . As Ivy thrives , which on the Oak takes hold , So with the Prophets may her lines grow old ; If they should die , who can the World forgive ? Such pious Lines ! When wanton Sapho's live . Who with his Breath his Image did inspire , Expects it should foment a Nobler fire : Not Love which Brutes as well as Men may know ; But Love like his , to whom that Breath we owe. Verse so design'd , on that high Subject wrote , Is the Perfection of an ardent Thought : The Smoke which we from burning Incense raise , When we complete the Sacrifice of Praise . In boundless Verse the Fancy soars too high , For any Object , but the Deity . What Mortal can with Heav'n pretend to share In the Superlatives of Wise and Fair ? A meaner Subject when with these we grace , A Giants habit on a Dwarf we place . Sacred should be the Product of our Muse , Like that sweet Oil , above all private use : On pain of Death forbidden to be made , But when it should be on the Altar laid . Verse shows a rich inestimable Vein , When dropt from Heav'n , 't is thither sent again : Of Bounty 't is that he admits our Praise , Which does not him , but us that yield it raise . For as that Angel up to Heav'n did rise , Born on the Flame of Manoah's Sacrifice : ●o wing'd with Praise , we penetrate the Sky , Teach Clouds and Stars to praise him as we fly ; The whole Creation , by our Fall made groan , ●●is Praise to Eccho , and suspend their Moan For that he Reigns , all Creatures should rejoice , And we with Songs supply their want of voice . The Church Triumphant , and the Church below In Songs of Praise their present Union show : Their Joys are full , our Expectation long ; In Life we differ , but we join in Song . Angels , and we , assisted by this Art , May Sing together , thô we dwell apart . Thus we reach Heav'n , while vainer Poems must No higher rise , than Winds may lift the Dust. From that they spring ; this from his breath that gave To the first Dust , th ' Immortal Soul we have : His Praise well sung , our great endeavor here , Shakes off the Dust , and makes that breath appear . CANTO II. HE that did first this way of Writing grace , Converst with the Almighty face to face . Wonders he did in Sacred Verse unfold , When he had more than Eighty Winters told : The Writer feels no dire effects of Age , Nor Verse that flows from so Divine a Rage . Eldest of Poets , he beheld the Light , When first it triumph'd 'ore eternal Night ; Chaos he saw , and could distinctly tell How that Confusion into Order fell : As if consulted with , he has exprest The Work of the Creator and his Rest. How the floud drown'd the first offending Race ; Which might the Figure of our Globe deface : For new made Earth , so even and so fair , Less equal now , uncertain makes the Air : Surpriz'd with heat , and unexpected cold Early distempers make our Youth look old : Our Days so evil , and so few , may tell That on the ruines of that World we dwell . Strong as the Oaks that nourish't them , and high , That long-liv'd Race did on their force rely , Neglecting Heav'n : but we of shorter date , Should be more mindful of impendent Fate . To Worms that crawl upon this Rubbish here , This Span of Life may yet too long appear : Enough to humble , and to make us great , If it prepare us for a Nobler Seat. Which well observing , he in Numerous Lines , Taught wretched Man , how fast his Life declines : In whom he dwelt , before the World was made , And may again retire , when that shall fade . The lasting Iliads have not liv'd so long , As his and Deborah's triumphant Song . Delphos unknown , no Muse could them inspi●e , But that which governs the Coelestial Quire. Heav'n to the Pious did this Art reveal ; And from their store succeeding Poets steal . Homer's Scamander for the Trojans faught , And swell'd so high , by her old Kishbon taught ▪ His River scarce could fierce Achilles stay ; Hers more successful , swept her Foes away . The Host of Heav'n , his Ph●ebus and his Mars , He Arms , instructed by her ●ighting Stars . She led them all against the Common Foe : But he misled by what he saw below , The Powers above , like wretched Men , divides , And breaks their Union into different ●ides , The Noblest parts which in his Hero's shine , May be but Copies of that Heroine . Ho●● himself , and Agamemnon , she The Writer could , and the Commander , be Truth she relates , in a sublimer strain Than all the Tales the boldest Greek could feign : For what she sung , that Spirit did indite , Which gave her courage , and success in fight . A double Garland crowns the matchless Dame ; From Heav'n her Poem , and her Conquest came . Thô of the Iews she merit most esteem : Yet here the Christian has the greater Theme . Her martial Song describes how Sisera fell , This sings our Triumph over Death and Hell. The rising Light employ'd the sacred breath Of the blest Virgin and Elizabeth In Songs of Joy ; the Angels sung his Birth : Here , how he treated was upon the Earth Trembling we read ; th' Affliction and the Scorn , Which for our Guilt , so patiently was born . 〈…〉 and Suffering , all belong Thô 〈…〉 to one Coelestial Song : And 〈…〉 using so divine an Art , Has in this Con●ort , sung the Tragick part . As Hann●h's Seed was vow'd to sacred use , So here this Lady consecrates her Muse. With like Reward may Heav'n her Bed adorn , With Fruit as fair as by her Muse is born . Of the Paraphrase on the Lords Prayer Written by Mrs. Wharton . SIlence , you Winds , listen Etherial Lights , While our Vrania sings what Heav'n indites ; The Numbers are the Nymphs , but from above Descends the Pledge of that Eternal Love. Here wretched Mortals have not leave alone , But are instructed to approach his Throne ; And how can he to miserable Men Deny Requests , which his own Hand did Pen ? In the Evangelists we find the Prose , Which Paraphras'd by her a Poem grows ; A devout Rapture , so divine a Hymn , It may become the highest Seraphim ; For they like her in that Coelestial Quire , Sing only what the Spirit does inspire . Taught by our Lord and theirs , with us they may For all , but pardon for Offences , pray . Some Reflections of his upon the several Petitions in the same Prayer . I. HIS Sacred Name , with reverence profound , Should mention'd be , and trembling at the sound ▪ It was Iehovah , 't is our Father now , So low to us , does Heav'n vouchsafe to bow : Psal. 18. 9. He brought it down , that taught us how to pray , And did so dearly for our Ransom pay . II. His Kingdom come : For this we pray in vain , Unless he does in our affections raign : Absurd it were to wish for such a King , And not Obedience to his Scep●or bring ; Whose Yoke is easy , and his Burthen light , His Service Freedom , and his Judgments right . II● . His Will be done ; In Fact 't is always done , But as in Heav'n , it must be made our own : His Will should all our Inclinations sway , Whom Nature and the Universe obey . Happy the Man , whose Wishes are confin'd To what has been Eternally design'd ; Referring all to his Paternal care , To whom more dear , than to our selves we are . IV. It is not what our Avarice hoards up ; 'T is he that feeds us , and that fills our Cup : Like new-born Babes , depending on the Brest , From day to day we on his Bounty Feast ▪ Nor should the Soul expect above a day To dwell in her frail Tenement of Clay : The setting Sun should seem to bound our Race , And the new day a gift of special Grace . V. That he should all our Trespasses forgive , While we in hatred with our Neighbours live ; Though so to pray may seem an easy task , We curse our selves when thus inclin'd we ask : This Prayer to use , we ought with equal care Our Souls as to the Sacrament prepare ▪ The Noblest Worship of the Power above , I● to extoll , and imitate his Love : Not to Forgive our Enemies alone , But use our Bounty that they may be won . VI. Guard us from all Temptations of the Foe , And those we may in several stations know : The Rich and Poor in slippery places stand ; Give us enough , but with a sparing Hand : Not ill-persuading Want , nor wanton Wealth ; But what proportion'd is to Life and Health . For not the Dead , but Living sing thy Praise , Exalt thy Kingdom , and thy Glory raise . — Favete Linguis — Virginibus Puerisque Canto , Horat. Of the last Verses in the Book . WHen we for Age could neither read nor write , The Subject made us able to indite . The Soul with Nobler Resolutions deckt , The Body stooping , does Herself erect : No Mortal Parts are requisite to raise Her , that Unbody'd can her Maker praise . The Seas are quiet , when the Winds give o're ; So calm are we , when Passions are no more : For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting Things , so certain to be lost . Clouds of Affection from our younger Eyes Conceal that emptiness , which Age descries . The Soul 's dark Cottage , batter'd and decay'd . Let 's in new Light thrô chinks that time has made Stronger by weakness , wiser Men become As they draw near to their Eternal home : Leaving the Old , both Worlds at once they view , That stand upon the Threshold of the New. — Miratur Limen Olympi . Virgil. FINIS . THE TABLE . TO the King , on His Navy . Pag. 1 Of the Dang●r His Majesty ( being Prince ) es●aped in the road at Saint Anderes . 3 Of His Majesties * receiuing the Ne●s of the Duk● of Buckingham's death . 13 To th● Queen , occasioned upon sight of Her Majesties picture . 15 Vpon his Majesties repairing of Pauls . 19 The Country to my Lady of Carlisse . 23 The Countess of Carlisle i● Mourning . 24 In answer to one who writ against a fair Lady . 27 On my Lady Dorothy Sidneys Picture . 29 To Vandike . 30 Of the Lady who can sleep when she pleases . 33 Of the misreport of her being painted . 34 Of her passing through a crowd of People . 36 The story of Phoebus and Daphne applied . 37 Fabula Phoebi & Daphnis . 38 Of Mrs. Arden . 39 To Amorett . 40 On the Head of a Stag. 44 To a Lady in a Garden . 45 The Misers Speech in a Mask . 46 On the friendship betwixt two Ladies . 48 Of her Chamber . 49 Of loving at first sight . 51 The self banished . 52 SONG . 53 Thirsis , Galatea . 55 The Battel of the Summer Islands in three Canto's . 58 SONG . 71 Of Love. 72 To Phillis . 75 To Phillis . 76 SONG . 78 SONG . 79 To Amorett . 80 To my Lord of Falkland . 81 For drinking of Healths . 83 On my Lady Isabella playing on the Lute . 84 To a Lady singing of a Song of his Composing . 85 Of the Marriage of the Dwarfs . 86 Loves Farewel . 8● From a Child . 89 On a Girdle . 90 The Apology of Sleep : For not approaching the Lady who can do anything but sleep when she pleaseth . 91 At Pens-hurst . 93 Another . 96 To my Lord of Leicester . 98 To a very young Lady . 100 SONG . 101 SONG . 103 On the discovery of a Ladies Painting . 104 To a Lady from whom he received a Silver Pen. 106 On a Brede of divers colours , woven by four Ladies 107 To my Lord of Northumberland upon the Death of his Lady . 108 To my Lord Admiral , of his late Sickness and Recovery 111 〈◊〉 Malade . 114 Of the Queen . 116 Vpon the Death of my Lady Rich. 120 To the Queen-Mother of France upon her Landing . 125 To the mutable Fair. 127 Of Salley . 131 Puerperium . 133 Of a Lady who writ in praise of Mira. 135 ●o one married to an old man. Ibid. To Flavia , a Song . 136 ●he Fall. 137 Of Silvia . 138 The Budd . 139 Vpon Ben. Johnson . 141 To Mr. George Sands , on his Translation of some parts . of the Bible . 143 Chloris and Hilas , made to a Saraban . 144 Vnder a Ladies Picture . 145 In answer of Sir John Suckling's Verses . 146 To a Friend of the different success of their Loves . 150 An Apology for having loved before . 152 To Zelenda . 154 On Mr. John Fletcher's Plays . 156 To Chloris . 158 On St. Jame's Park , as lately improv'd by his Majesty . Ibid. To Sir William Davenant , upon his two first Books of Gondibert , written in France . 166 To my worthy Friend , the Translator of Gratius . 169 To the King , upon his Majesties happy Return . 171 To my Lady Morton on New-years-day 1650. at the Louvre in Paris . 178 Of a fair Lady playing with a Snake . 1●1 To his worthy Friend Mr. E'velyn upon his Translation of Lucretius . 182 Part of the fourth Book of Virgil Translated . 185 Vpon a War with Spain , and a Fight at Sea. 193 Epitaph , to be written under the Latine inscription upon the Tomb of the only Son of the Lord Andover . 199 To the Queen upon her Majesties Birth-day , after Her happy recovery from a dangerous sickness . 200 Instructions to a Painter , for the drawing of the Posture and Progress of His Majesties Forces at Sea , under the Command of his Highness-Royal . Together with the Battel and Victory obtained over the Duch , June 3. 1665. 203 To the King. 222 To a Friend of the Authors ; a Person of Honour , who lately writ a Religious Book , Entituled , Historical Applications , and occasional Meditations upon several Subjects . 224 To Mr. Henry Laws , who had then newly set a Song of mine in the year 1635. 225 Vpon Her Majesties new Buildings at Somerset-House . 227 On the picture of afair Youth taken after he was dead . 230 Epigram upon the Golden Medal . 231 Of a Tree cut in Paper . 232 To a Lady from whom be received the foregoing Copy which for many Years had been lost . 233 The Night-piece , or a Picture drawn in the dark . 234 Of English Verse . 236 So●g by Mrs. Knight , to Her Majesty on Her Birth-day . 238 To his 〈◊〉 by Friend Sir Thomas Higgons , upon his Tran●●tion of his Venetian Triumph . 240 Epitaph . 241 Of Her Royal Highness , Mother to the Prince of Orange , and of ●er Portr●ictt , written by the late Dutchess of York white she lived with her . ●44 To the Dutchess of Orleans , when she was taking leave of the Cours at Dover . 245 Written on a Cord that Her Majesty tore at Ombra . 246 To ●he Dutchess when he presented this Book to Her Royal Highness . 247 Verse writ in the Tasso of her Royal Highness . 248 Vpon our late loss of the Duke of Cambridge . 249 Translated out of Spanish . 250 Of the Lady Mary , &c. Ibid. To the Servant of a fair Lady . 253 Vpon the Earl of Roscommon's Translation of Horace de Arte Poetica : And of the use of Poetry . 255 Epitaph on Sir George Speke . 258 Of Her Majesty on New-years-day 1683. 261 A Presage of the Ruine of the Turkish Empire , presented to His Majesty on His Birth-day . 262 Of Divine Love. 267 Of Divine Poesie . 287 FINIS . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A67346-e45970 Supposed to be the Lord Berkley of Bethley .