POEMS OF LORD HERBERT, 
 
THE 
 
 POEMS OF LORD HERBERT 
 
 OF CHERBURY 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 BY 
 
 JOHN CHURTON COLLINS 
 
 LONDON 
 
 CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1881 
 
^f%/£ 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY STRANGEWAYS AND SONS, TOWER STREET, 
 
 UPPER ST. martin's LANK, W.C. 
 
93^../, 
 
 I INSCRIBE 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 TO MY FRIEND 
 
 WILLIAM BAPTISTE SCOONES, 
 
 AN 
 
 IMPERFECT EXPRESSION 
 
 OF 
 
 ESTEEM AND AFFECTION. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 TX7HETHER the Poems, which are here for the 
 firft time prefented in a modern drefs, be of 
 intrinfic value the reader will Joon determine for 
 him/elf. I have at leaf brought Herbert before 
 the Court ; and I have, I hope, Jecured him a fair 
 hearing. Henceforth he will not be condemned un- 
 heard. 
 
 With regard to the text, I have adhered with 
 fcrupulous fidelity to that of the original edition ; and 
 I have collated the only two copies to which I could 
 obtain accefs — the copy in the Britifo Mufeum, and 
 the copy in the Bodleian Library at Oxford — with- 
 out, however, difcovering any variety of readings. 
 My principal difficulty has been with the pun^uation, 
 on which, of courfe, the Jenfe of pajfages frequently 
 depends ; and for this I have often had no guidance 
 
vlli Preface, 
 
 from the original^ which teems with palpable errors. 
 'The JpelUng has aljo been carefully revifed^ and 
 though it has been for the mofi part modernifed, I 
 have thought it well to retain, in fome cafes, the 
 older forms, fo as to preferve the flavour of archaifm. 
 Obvious mifprints have been filently corretied. In 
 two paffages only I have ventured to alter the text, 
 and they both occur in ' The Idea! In the feventh 
 line the original reads ^ bear^ which, as it makes no 
 fenfe, and breaks the rhyme, I alter into ' bar! 
 Again, in the laft line, ' whence ' is fubfiituted for 
 ' when! And for this reafon. Herbert is alluding 
 to the Platonic do^rine of ideas, and it is much more 
 natural to fuppofe that he would /peak of an idea 
 whence the form began than of an idea when the 
 form began. Though he is miftaken in Juppoftng 
 that the Platonic ideas admit of application to par- 
 ticular individuals, he was evidently acquainted with 
 the ' Timaus ' and with the ' Republic! 
 
 J. CHURTON COLLINS. 
 
 5 Kin^s Bench Walk, Temple. 
 
C O N T E N T S. 
 
 I NTROD LECTION ..... 
 
 ORIGINAL TITLE ..... 
 
 ORIGINAL PREFACE .... 
 
 TO HIS WATCH WHEN HE COULD NOT SLEEP 
 
 DITTY 
 
 A DESCRIPTION 
 
 TO HER FACE 
 
 TO HER BODY 
 
 TO HE?v MIND 
 
 UPON COMBING HER HAIR 
 
 DITTY IN IMITATION OF THE SPANISH ENTRE 
 
 TANTOQUE EL'AVRIL .... 
 
 THE STATE PROGRESS OF ILL 
 
 SATYRA SECUNDA OF TRAVELLETvS FROM PARIS 
 ' I MUST DEPAR.T, BUT LIKE TO HIS LAST BREATH 
 
 MADRIGAL . , 
 
 ANOTHER 
 
 b 
 
 PACE 
 
 XV 
 XXXV 
 
 xxxvii 
 I 
 
 3 
 6 
 
 7 
 8 
 
 TO 
 
 12 
 
 20 
 
 24 
 
 25 
 2/ 
 
Contents. 
 
 TO HIS FRIEND BEN JOHNSON, OF HIS HORACE MADE 
 ENGLISH ...... 
 
 EPITAPH C^CIL BOULFER QU^ POST LANGUESCEN 
 TEM MORBUM NON SINE INQUIETUDINE SPIRITUS 
 b'c, CONSCIENil^ OBIIT . 
 
 EPITAPH GULI. HERBERT DE SWANSEY QUI SINE 
 PROLE OBIIT, AUG. 1609 
 
 IN A GLASS WINDOW FOR INCONSTANCY 
 
 ELEGY FOR THE PRINCE 
 
 EPITAPH OF KING JAMES . . . 
 
 A VISION. A LADY COMBING HER HAIR 
 
 TEARS FLOW NO MORE .... 
 
 DITTY TO THE TUNE OF ' A CHE EL QUANTO MIO 
 OF PESARINO .... 
 
 DITTY 
 
 EPITAPH OF A STINKING POET 
 
 A DITTY TO THE TUNE OF ' COSE FERITE,' MADE 
 BY LORENZO ALLEGRE TO ONE SLEEPING 
 
 [To be Jung) 
 
 EPITAPH ON SIR EDWARD SACKVILLe's CHILD, WHO 
 DIED IN HIS BIRTH 
 
 KISSING ...... 
 
 DITTY 
 
 ELEGY OVER A TOMB .... 
 
Contents, 
 
 XI 
 
 EPITAPH ON SIR FRANCIS VERE 
 
 TO MRS. DIANA CECYLL 
 
 TO HER EYES 
 
 TO HER HAIR 
 
 SONNET OF BLACK BEAUTY . 
 
 ANOTHER SONNET TO BLACK IT SELF 
 
 THE FIRST MEETING 
 
 A MERRY RIME, SENT TO THE LADY WROTH UPON MY 
 
 L. OF Pembroke's child, born in the spring 
 
 THE THOUGHT ....... 
 
 TO A LADY WHO DID SING EXCELLENTLY 
 
 MELANDER, SUPPOSED TO LOVE SUSAN, BUT DID 
 LOVE ANN . 
 
 ECHO TO A ROCK ....... 
 
 ECHO IN A CHURCH ...... 
 
 TO HIS MISTRESS FOR HER TRUE PICTURE 
 
 EPITAPH ON SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, LYING IN ST. PAUL's 
 WITHOUT A MONUMENT, TO BE FASTENED UPON 
 THE CHURCH DOOR 
 
 EPITAPH FOR HIMSELF 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO THE C. OF D. . 
 
 DITTY 
 
 ELEGY FOR DOCTOR DUNN 
 
 51 
 
 52 
 
 54 
 56 
 58 
 
 59 
 
 60 
 
 64 
 
 65 
 
 67 
 
 69 
 70 
 72 
 
 74 
 
 80 
 81 
 82 
 
 83 
 84 
 86 
 
xii Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE BROWN BEAUTY QO 
 
 AN ODE UPON A QUESTION MOVED WHETHER LOVE 
 
 SHOULD CONTINUE FOR EVER . . . .92 
 
 THE GREEN-SICKNESS BEAUTY . . . .99 
 
 THE GREEN-SICKNESS BEAUTY . . . .101 
 
 LA GRALLETTA GALLANTE ; OR, THE SUN-BURN'd 
 
 EXOTIQUE BEAUTY 102 
 
 PLATONICK LOVE IO4 
 
 PLATONICK LOVE . . . . . . . I06 
 
 THE IDEA MADE OF ALNWICK IN HIS EXPEDITION 
 
 TO SCOTLAND WITH THE ARMY, 1639 . . IO9 
 
 PLATONICK LOVE . . . . . . . II4 
 
 A MEDITATION UPON HIS WAX- CANDLE BURNING OUT I 1 9 
 
 OCTOBER 14, 1664 .... . . 122 
 
 IN STATU AM LIGNEAM OVERBURII . . . I 24 
 
 DE C. DE S. 
 
 EPITAPHIUM IN ANAGRAMMA NOMINIS SUI RED- 
 DOR UT HERB.^ 
 
 EPITAPH. IN SE ROM.^ FACTUM 1615 
 
 IN TUMULUM DOMINI FRANCISCI VERE 
 
 IN DIEM NATALITIUM, VIZ. 3 MAR. 
 
 FOR A DYAL .... 
 
 . 125 
 
 . 125 
 
 . 126 
 
 . 127 
 
 . 127 
 IN ANSWER TO THE VERSES OF GUIET FOR THE 
 
 PUCELLE d'oRLEANS, QUASI EXTEMPORE . . I28 
 
 124 
 
Contents. xiii 
 
 PAG£ 
 
 IN ANSWER TO TILENUS WHEN I HAD THAT FATAL 
 
 DEFLUXION IN MY HAND . , . . 1 29 
 
 DE HUGONE GROTIO, ARCA INCLUSO ET A CARCERE 
 
 LIEERATO . . . . . . .129 
 
 PRO LALTREATO POETA ...... I30 
 
 AD SERENISS. REGEM GUSTAVUM, A.D. 163I . . I32 
 
 EURYALE MCERENS 1 34 
 
 MENSA LUSORIA ; OR, A SHOVEL-BOARD TABLE TO 
 
 MR. MASTER . . . . . . -135 
 
 CHARISSIMO, DOCTISSIMO JUCUNDISSIMOqUE JUX- 
 
 TIM AMICO THOMtE MASTER . . . . I36 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 T ORD HERBERT of Cherbury Is one of the mod 
 
 "^-^ interefling, and in many refpe6ls one of the moft 
 eflentially original chara6lers, in our Literary Hi (lory. At 
 once a philofopher and a politician, a man of the world 
 and a man of letters, it was his lot to flourifh at a crifis 
 of no ordinary importance in philofophy, in politics, 
 in literature. His youth was pafTed in the world of 
 Hooker, Sydney, and Spenfer. Before he died Hobbes 
 had written the Elementa Philofophica de Give, Barclay 
 had publifhed his Jrgcnisy and Butler was colIe6ling 
 materials for Hudibras. He was a child of eight when 
 Elizabeth addrelTed the foldiers at Tilbury Fort, and he 
 lived to fee Charles the Firft betrayed by the Scots to 
 the Englifh Commiffioners. He was the friend of Donne 
 and Ben Jonfon ; he was the correfpondent of Grotius and 
 Gaflendi. He thus ftood midway between two great eras, 
 moving in both. In temper he belonged to the era of 
 the Renaiflance, in intellect he belonged to the era of 
 Des Cartes and Hobbes. His own fervices to literature 
 
xvi Introduction. 
 
 were important. His De Ver'itate^ if it did not do much 
 for the advancement of metaphyfical philofophy, was the 
 work of a fearlefs, vigorous, and independent thinker ; a 
 work v/hich exercifed cdnfiderable influence on the pro- 
 grefs of Free Enquiry, and was the firft attempt made, 
 in this country at leaft, to reduce Deifm to a fyftem. 
 His Life and Reign of Henry VIII. is an admirable piece 
 of hiftorical compofition. His Expeditlo Buckinghami 
 Duels in Ream Infulam is the beft account we have of 
 that unh.ippy adventure ; and his Autobiography is, if ever 
 autobiography was, a treafure tor all time. 
 
 Thus interefting by his furroundings, thus important 
 in himfelf, we are the more attracted towards him becaufe 
 of the fulnefs with which we are acquainted with the 
 incidents of his perfonal hiftory. We know him as we 
 know no other man of that age. Never fince Jerome 
 Cardan laid bare for the world's infpecStion the innermoft 
 fecrets of his being, never fince Cellini told the ftory 
 of his ftrange viciffitudes, never fmce Montaigne took 
 Europe into his confidence, had fuch a record as Herbert 
 has left us been committed to paper. Whether he in- 
 tended his fmgular confeflions for publication may well 
 be doubted. He tells us himfelf that they were written 
 for the inftru61:ion of his ^efcendents, and to enable 
 him to review his pafl: career, that he might reform 
 what was amifs if fuch reformation were poffible, that 
 
IntrodiiBion, xvii 
 
 he might comfort himfelf with the memory of what- 
 ever virtuous actions he might have done, and that he 
 might make his peace with God. In the courfe of this 
 review he not only narrates the adventures which he 
 had encountered on his way through life, but he enters 
 into minute particulars relating to his writings and 
 fpeculations — his druggies with his palTions, his ftruggles 
 with his reafon : he gives us his opinions on education, on 
 the conduft of life, on religion. And he is to all appear- 
 ance unreferved. His frailties are not concealed, and 
 they are many ; but we feel that he has, on the whole, 
 gained rather than loft by a fcrutiny which few, indeed, of 
 our erring race could court with impunity. Nor is this 
 all. It is the portrait of a man with features eminently 
 ftriking and peculiar, whofe ways were never the ways of 
 common men, whofe thoughts were not the thoughts 
 either of his predeceiTors or contemporaries. Nothing, 
 therefore, which Herbert has left us can be without im- 
 portance ; for, whatever be its intrinfic value, it is the 
 product of an original mind developing itfelf under ex- 
 ceptionally interefting hiftorical conditions. 
 
 The world has long done juftice to his profe writings. 
 It is the obje6l of the prefent volume to vindicate his 
 title to a place among Englifh poets. I have certainly no 
 wifh to be numbered among thofe gentlemen whofe in- 
 difcriminating induftry coatinues year after year to load 
 
xviii IntroduBion, 
 
 our libraries with treafures better hidden. I have no wifh 
 to rob ObHvion of its legitimate prey. Some of Lord 
 Herbert's poems are, I freely admit, not worth refufcitation, 
 but many of them, or portions at leafl of many of them, 
 feem to me authentic poetry. In almoft all of them we 
 find originality and vigour, however fantaftic the con- 
 ception, however rough the execution. But were their 
 merits even lefs than they are, no cultivated man could 
 regard them with indifference. The name of their writer 
 would be a fufEcient paffport to indulgent attention. We 
 treafure the verfes of the authors of the Nico7nachcsan 
 Ethics, and of the Novwrn Organon^ though Ariftotle has 
 no claim to a place among the Pleiad, or Bacon to a 
 place befide Jonfon or Donne. 
 
 In my eftimate of Lord Herbert's poems I have 
 hitherto ftood alone. His biographers and critics are 
 unanimous in ignoring or condemning them. Antony 
 Wood paffes them by without comment. Horace Walpole 
 merely mentions them in his Catalogue of Herbert's 
 Works. Neither Grainger nor the author of the life in 
 the Biographic Univerfelle have anything to fay for them. 
 Park, in a note on Walpole's Life of Herbert, coldly 
 fpeaks of * Lord Herbert's fcarce volume of metaphyseal 
 love verfes, ingenious but unnatural, platonic in fentiment, 
 but frequently grofs in expreflion, and marked by an 
 eccentricity which pervaded the life and chara6fer of their 
 
IntroduBion, xix 
 
 author;' and thefe remarks have been greedily copied into 
 fucceffive editions of bibliographic manuals, reprints, and 
 the like. Ellis, in his Specimens of EngUJh Poetry^ is ftill 
 lefs favourable in his verdift, boldly obferving that young 
 Herbert *fhov^ed more piety than tafte in publifhing his 
 father's poems.' The author of an article on the Auto- 
 biography in the Retrofpe£iive Review contents himfelf 
 v^^ith remarking that Lord Herbert is often * both rugged 
 and obfcure in his verfes,' and ' was much more fitted to 
 wield the fword than the lyre.' They have no place in 
 the SeleSiions of Headley. Even Campbell, who can 
 find a niche for Heminge and Picke, has no corner for 
 Herbert. M. Charles de Remufat, in his interefting and 
 valuable treatife. Lord Herbert of Cherbury^ fa Vie et 
 fes GEuvres^ exprefles fimilar opinions : ' Ses poefies 
 anglaies, publiees par fon fecond fils, font d'un genre 
 moins ferieux ' — (he has been fpeaking, and fpeaking de- 
 preciatingly, of Herbert's Latin poems) — ' Quelques unes 
 font ingenieufes, la plufpart obfcures ; I'amour en eft le 
 fujet ordinaire, un amour platonique, exprime cependant 
 avec plus de recherche que delicatefle.' It is curious that 
 they fhould have efcaped the notice of SirEgerton Brydges, 
 who has not, fo far as I can difcover, made any allufion 
 to them. And this is the more remarkable, as he was 
 particularly interefted in the hiftory of the Herbert family, 
 and was the firft editor of the poems of William Herbert, 
 
XX Introdu5lion. 
 
 third Earl of Pembroke. When he obferved in the pre- 
 face to his reprint of the Earl's poems that 'to fufFer them 
 to lie longer in oblivion would be to defraud an illuftrious 
 family of its greateft ornaments,' he made a remark which 
 would be far more applicable to the prefent volume. 
 Whatever opinion may be formed of Lord Herbert's 
 merits as a poet, there can be no queftion as to his 
 fuperiority to his kinfman. 
 
 It is ftrange that in his Autobiography Lord Herbert 
 makes no mention of his Poems, the exiftence of 
 which feems not to have been fufpedled by any of 
 his diftinguifhed contemporaries. They were evidently 
 jotted down in moments of leifure, as occafion offered. 
 Some of them were the work of his youth, fome of his 
 middle age ; the laft was written four years before his 
 death. This we gather from the dates prefixed to many 
 of them, the earlieft date being Auguft 1608, the lateft 
 Oftober 1664. The biographers affure us that many of 
 thefe poems had appeared in print during Herbert's life- 
 time, and are to be found in the poetical colle6lions of 
 the period. For thefe colle6lions I have fearched in vain. 
 I doubt, I muft own, the truth of the ftatement, and fufpecSt 
 that it has been loofely copied, without any attempt to 
 ascertain its correcStnefs, from Antony Wood ; and I am 
 the more inclined to believe this becaufe they have faithfully 
 repeated one grofs blunder of Wood's — a blunder which 
 
IntroduBion, xxi 
 
 would at once have been rectified by confulting the work 
 to which Wood refers. It is this, and it is fignificant : 
 In the third volume of his Jtherne Oxonienfes (edition 
 Blifs, p. 242) Wood fays : ' Other of Lord Herbert's 
 poems I have feen in the books of other authors occa- 
 fionally written, particularly in that of Jofhua Sylvefter, 
 entitled Lacrymce Lacrymarum, 16 13.' This aflertion is 
 repeated by Walpole, by Sir Walter Scott in the Pre- 
 fatory Memoir to Lord Herbert's Autobiography^ pub- 
 lifhed at Edinburgh in 1809, by the editor of Murray's 
 reprint of the L'lfe^ and by all the bibliographers. Now 
 there is not a line of Lord Herbert's to be found in 
 Sylvefter's work. What Wood was thinking of was no 
 doubt the Elegy for the Prince (fee Poems, page 33), 
 which certainly was publifhed during Herbert's lifetime, 
 but which appeared, not in Sylvefter's Lacryma Lacry- 
 marum, but in a colle6lion entitled Sundry Funeral Elegies 
 on the Untimely Death of the Moji Excellent Prince Henry, 
 compofed by feveral hands, 16 13. However this may 
 be, the poems made their appearance in a colleiled form 
 in 1665, nearly feventeen years after Herbert's death ; 
 and were, as we learn from the Preface, given to the 
 world by Henry Herbert, his youngeft fon. Of thefe 
 poems there appears to have been only one edition. 
 The volume is now extremely rare ; indeed, it is one of 
 the rareft known to bibliographers. 
 
xxii IntroduBion, 
 
 The reader will at once difcoverthat Herbert belongs, 
 like his brother, to that fchool of poets whofe charadler- 
 iftics have been fo admirably analyfed by Johnfon — the 
 Metaphyfical or Phantaftic School. This fingular fecR: 
 firft appeared during the latter years of Elizabeth's reign. 
 Their origin is popularly afcribed to Dr. Donne, though 
 it would in truth be more corre61: to fay that in the 
 poetry of Donne their peculiarities of fentiment and ex- 
 preffion are moft confpicuoufly illuftrated. They owed 
 their origin, indeed, not to the influence of Donne, but 
 to the fpirit of the age. In all eras of great creative 
 energy poetry pafTes neceflarily through two ftages : in 
 the firft ftage, imagination predominates ; in the fecond, 
 refle6lion. In the firft ftage, men feel more than they 
 think ; in the fecond, they think more than they feel. 
 If a literature run its natural courfe, we may predi61: with 
 abfolute certainty that mere rhetoric will ufurp the place 
 of the eloquent language of the paffions, that fancy will 
 be fubftituted for imagination, and that there will ceafe 
 to be any neceflary correfpondence between the emotions 
 and the intelleft. This ftage was not completely attained 
 till the age of Cowley. In the poetry of Donne we find 
 the tranfition between the two ftages marked with fin- 
 gular precifion. Some of his poems remind us of the 
 richeft and freftieft work of the Elizabethan age ; in 
 many of them he out-Cowleys Cowley himfelf. But his 
 
IntroduBion, xxiii 
 
 work was not the work, in any fenfe, of a creator. He 
 contributed no new elements, either to thought or to 
 di£lion. What he did was to unite the vicious pecu- 
 liarities of others, to indulge habitually in what they 
 indulged in only occafionally. He was not, for example, 
 the firft to fubftitute philofophical reflecSlion for poetic 
 feeling, as his contemporaries, Samuel Daniel, Sir John 
 Davies, and Fulke Greville, were fimultaneouily engaged 
 in doing the fame thing. He was not the iirft to indulge 
 in abufe of wit, in fanciful fpeculations, in extravagant 
 imagery, or in grotefque eccentricities of expreffion. But, 
 in addition to uniting thefe vices, he carried them further 
 than any of his predecefTors or contemporaries had done, 
 and, aided by the fpirit of the age, he fucceeded in making 
 them popular. It would not, perhaps, be faying too much 
 to fay that no fmgle author contributed more to the founda- 
 tion of the Metaphyseal School than Jofhua Sylveller, 
 whofe tranflation of Du Bartas preceded the ' meta- 
 physeal ' poems of Donne, and was probably as favourite 
 a work with Donne as it certainly was with moft of the 
 young poets of that age. The ftyle of Donne is, how- 
 ever, marked by certain diftinftive peculiarities which no 
 intelligent critic would be likely to miftake, and his in- 
 fluence on contemporary poetry v^^as unqueftionably con- 
 fiderable. Lord Herbert appears to have been the earlieft 
 of his difciples. Indeed, moft of the poems in Herbert's 
 
xxlv Introdu5iion, 
 
 collejftion in which the influence of Donne is moft per- 
 ceptible, had been written, as the dates fhow, long before 
 the poems of Donne were given to the world. But he 
 was, we know, perfonally acquainted with Donne, and 
 Donne, like many of the poets of that age, was in the 
 habit of circulating copies of his poems among private 
 friends.* His acquaintance with his mafter commenced, 
 no doubt, while he was ftill a ftudent at Univerfity 
 College ; for we learn from Walton's Life of George Herbert 
 that when Mrs. Herbert was living with her fon Edward 
 at Oxford Donne arrived there on a vifit, and became, 
 during her refidence at Oxford, one of her moft valued 
 friends and advifers. His beautiful poem entitled the 
 Autwrnnal was written in honour of Mrs. Herbert. As 
 Herbert was then a youth of eighteen, and Donne a man 
 of upwards of forty, it is not unreafonable to fuppofe that 
 Donne affifted both in moulding the youth's taftes and 
 in direftino; his ftudies. 
 
 Where Plerbert moft reminds us of Donne is not 
 
 * Dr. Grofart, in his laborious and inftru6live account of 
 Donne and his writings, tells us that feveral of Donne's defcrip- 
 tive and fatirical poems were in circulation among friends cer- 
 tainly before 1614, and that fome of his lyrics were in, circula- 
 tion before 161 3. (See his remarks on his edition of Donne, 
 vol. ii., EJJa^ on the Life and Writings of Donne, pp. xxxi. 
 and xxxii.) 
 
InfroduBion, xxv 
 
 (o much in his lyrics as in his poems written in the 
 heroic meafures ; in the two fatires, for example, in the 
 verfes 'To his Miftrefs for her True PicSlure,' in the elegy 
 on Donne himfelf. The poem alfo entitled ' The Idea ' 
 is very much in his friend's vein, as well as written in a 
 meafure which Donne perhaps invented, and which was 
 certainly a favourite with him. The numerous poems 
 dedicated to the praife of dark beauty were perhaps 
 fuggefted by Donne's verfes To a Lady of Dark Com- 
 plexion. In the two poems on Platonic Love we may 
 alfo difcern the prefence of the mafter. It would, of 
 courfe, be abfurd to aflert that the lyric poetry of Donne 
 had no influence on that of Herbert, but its influence was 
 far lefs confiderable than it would at firft fight appear to 
 be. Herbert's rhythm is his own. Where it is mufical its 
 mufic is not the mufic of the older poet, where its note is 
 harfh and diflTonant it is no echo of the difcords of that 
 unequal and moft capricious finger. Many of Donne's 
 favourite meafures he has not employed ; fome of his 
 own meafures, the meafures in which he has been moft 
 fuccefsful, have no prototype in Donne's poems. What 
 he owes in lyric poetry to the leader of the Metaphyfical 
 School is to be found, fo far as form is concerned, rather 
 in what Donne fuggefted than in v/hat he diredly taught. 
 In fpirit he owed, it muft be allowed, much. From 
 I^onne he learned to fport with extravagant fancies, to 
 
xxvi IntroduBion, 
 
 fubftitute the language of the fchools for the language 
 of the heart, to think like the author of the Enneads 
 and to write like the author of Euphues. He has, how- 
 ever, had the good tafte to avoid the grolTer faults of his 
 mafter. He never indulges in prepofterous abfurdities ; 
 he never, if we except one couplet, clothes myfticifm 
 in motley. 
 
 Herbert's poems are of too mifcellaneous a chara(^er 
 to be exadly clailified. They may be roughly divided into 
 Sonnets, Elegies, Epitaphs, Satires, Mifcellaneous Lyrics, 
 and Occafional Pieces. However unequal thefe com- 
 pofitions may be in point of execution, there are two 
 things which the reader of Herbert may, in the more 
 ambitious poems at leaft, generally promife himfelf — ori- 
 ginality and vigour. The Sonnets need not detain us 
 long. The one ' To his Watch ' (page i ) is well exprelTed. 
 The ftyle is in happy unifon with the fentiment, and the 
 final claufe is folemn and imprellive. The laft verfe of 
 the fonnet ' To her Face ' (page 6), 
 
 * Sure Adam fmn'd not in that fpotlefs face,' 
 
 though fomewhat obfcure, is a really fine line. In the 
 fonnet written near Merlou Caftle (page 12), the couplet 
 defcribing the groves on the banks of the ftream, 
 
 * Embroidering through each glade 
 An airy filver and a funny gold,' 
 
Introdii5iion. xxvii 
 
 prove that Herbert had the eye of a poet. The moft 
 ftrlkingof them is the addrefs 'To Black Itfelf ' (page 59), 
 which is particularly interefting, becaufe it contains the 
 germ of part at leaft of the idea which was afterwards 
 fo magnificently embodied by Blanco White in his famous 
 fonnet. White was moft likely immediately indebted to 
 Sir Thomas Browne, but Browne was no doubt well 
 acquainted with Herbert and his writings. With regard 
 to his Elegies — I am not, of courfe, including among 
 them the lyric elegy on page 49 — I fhall perhaps confult 
 his fame beft by paffing them by without comment. 
 Two or three verfes in the ' Elegy on the Prince ' will no 
 doubt pleafe and ftrike, but there praife muft end, even 
 from an editor. Of the Epitaphs, the moft original is the 
 ' Epitaph upon Himfelf ' (page 8 1), the moft grotefque that 
 on Cecilia Boulfer (page 29), the moft eloquent and 
 pleafing that on William Herbert of Swanfey (page 31). 
 The two fatires are of very unequal rnerit. The fecond, 
 page 20, would difgrace Taylor the Water Poet. The 
 firft, ' The State Progrefs of 111,' though intolerably harfti 
 and barbarous in ftyle, contains fome interefting remarks. 
 Of the Occafional Pieces, thofe which moft nearly re- 
 fembled the poems of which \nq have been fpeakiijg are 
 the verfes entitled ' To her Mind ' (page 8), and ' To his 
 Miftrefs for her True Picture' (page 74), both being in the 
 heroic couplet, and both being in the fame contemplative 
 
XXV iii IntroduBlon, 
 
 vein. To thofe who are fond of tracing refemblances 
 between the works of men of genius who are feparated 
 by many years from each other, it will be interefting 
 to obferve how clofely Herbert fometimes reminds us 
 of Mr. Browning. In the verfes, for example, ' To 
 her Mind,' there is a pafTage which might excufably be 
 miftaken for the work of the great philofophical poet 
 of our day : — 
 
 * Thus ends my Love, but this doth grieve me moll 
 That fo it ends ; but that ends too ; this yet, 
 Befide the wilhes, hopes and time I loll. 
 Troubles my mind awhile, that I am fet 
 Free, worfe than deny'd : I can neither boall 
 Choice nor fuccefs, as my cafe is, nor get 
 Pardon from myfelf, that I loved not 
 A better millrefs, or her worfe. This debt 
 Only 's her due. Hill that Ihe be forgot 
 Ere chang'd, left I love none ; this done, the taint 
 Of foul inconftancy is cleared at leaft 
 In me ; there only refts but to unpaint 
 Her form in my mind, that fo difpolTelT'd, 
 It be a temple, but without a faint.' 
 
 — the fame elliptical mode of expreffion, the fame 
 intermixture of fentiment and logic, the fame curious 
 refinements of fpeculative meditation. The verfes ' To 
 his Miftrefs for her True Pi6lure ' will not find, and they 
 certainly do not deferve, many admirers. It may be 
 
IntroduBion, xxix 
 
 queftioned whether Platonifm has ever clothed itfelf in 
 fuch grotefque language as in the laft couplet of this 
 ftrange poem : 
 
 * Hear from my body's prifon this my call. 
 Who from my mouth-grate and eye-window bawl.' 
 
 The lyric pieces are of very unequal merit. But in 
 making out a cafe for Herbert my bufmefs is only with 
 his beft work ; and if we judge him by his beft work, he 
 is certainly entitled to no mean place among the lyrifts 
 of the Metaphyfical School, His mufic is, it muft be 
 owned, full of difcords — his verfes will fometimes not 
 even fcan, and yet he poflefled not only a fine ear for 
 rhythmic effect, but his rhythm is of great compafs and 
 variety. Occafionally his verfe has a weight, a fullnefs 
 and dignity, not unworthy of Dryden ; for example, two 
 ftanzas like thefe (pages lo and ii) : 
 
 * Nay, thou art greater, too ! More deftiny 
 Depends on thee than on her influence. 
 No hair thy fatal hand doth now difpenfe 
 But to fome one a thread of life muft be. 
 
 * But ftay ! methinks new beauties do arife 
 
 While fhe withdraws thefe glories which were fpread. 
 Wonder of Beauties ! fet thy radiant head. 
 And ftrike out Day from thy yet fairer eyes.* 
 
XXX Introdu5iion. 
 
 Nor can we refufe the gift of lyric melody to the 
 writer of a ftanza like this : — 
 
 ' Then think each minute that you lofe a day. 
 
 The longeft youth is fhort. 
 The fhorteft age is long : Time flies away. 
 
 And makes us but his fport. 
 And that which is not Youth's is Age's prey.' 
 
 Or to the writer of fuch poems as we find on page 56, 
 and on page 46. 
 
 But Herbert's greateft metrical triumph is that he 
 was the firft to difcover the harmony of that ftanza with 
 which the moft celebrated poet of our own day has 
 familiarifed us. The glory of having invented it belongs 
 indeed to another, but the glory of having pafied it almoft 
 perfe6l into Mr. Tennyfon's hands belongs unqueftion- 
 ably to Herbert. And it is due alfo to Herbert to fay 
 that he not only revealed its fweetnefs and beauty, 
 but that he anticipated fome of its moft exquifite 
 effe6ls and variations. Take, for example, the following 
 ftanza^ where the paufe occurs at the end of the fecond 
 line : — 
 
 * For where affeflion once is fhown. 
 No longer can the World beguile ; 
 Who fees his penance all the while 
 He holds a torch to make her known,' — Z)///y, page 42. 
 
Introdu6iion. xxxi 
 
 Or thefe lines, where the paufe is made at the end of the 
 fir ft line : — 
 
 * Elfe fhould our fouls in vain ele6l. 
 And vainer yet were Heaven's laws 
 When to an everlafting caufe 
 They give a perifhing eiFe6l.' — Page 96. 
 
 Or again : — 
 
 * Nay, I proteft ; though Death with his 
 
 Worft counfel lliould divide us here ;' — Page 94. 
 
 where the paufe occurs at the end of the fourth fyllable. 
 An analytical examination of the metre of In Memoriam 
 will fhow that on alternations and interchanges of thofe 
 paufes the poet has not only relied for varying his har- 
 mony, but for producing fome of his moft pleafmg efFe6ls. 
 Indeed, in Herbert's two poems we find anticipated the 
 exa6l cadence, the exa6l note of the modern poet. I 
 queftion, for example, whether the niceft ear could dis- 
 tinguifh lines like thefe from the Laureate's : — 
 
 * Were not our fouls immortal made, 
 Our equal loves can make them fuch.' 
 
 * As one another's myftery. 
 Each Ihall be both, yet both but one.* 
 
 ' Who fees his penance all the while 
 He holds a torch to make her known.* 
 
 Other points of refemblance, into which there is no 
 
xxxii Introdudiion, 
 
 neceflity for entering here, can fcarcely fail to fuggeft 
 themfelves to thoughtful readers. It is curious that we 
 fliould be able to point — and to point, I venture to think, 
 without at all ftraining analogy — to two poems of this 
 forgotten poet which recall fo exactly the work of the 
 author of In Memoriam and the work of the author of 
 Sordello. If the circumftance prove little elfe, it proves 
 at leaft the verfatility of Herbert's powers. 
 
 The beft of Herbert's lyrics is the poem of which we 
 have juft been fpeaking — the 'Ode upon a Queftion 
 moved whether Love fhould Continue for Ever.' It is 
 a little prolix, and it is occafionally obfcure ; but the 
 fineft flanzas in it are exquifitely beautiful. Next would 
 come, in the eftimation of many perhaps, the verfes ' Upon 
 combing her Hair ' (page lo), which are fmgularly vigorous 
 and pi6lurefque. We feel, however, that their founding 
 rhetoric is fomewhat out of place — the ftyle is too elevated 
 for the theme, a common fault with poets of the fecond 
 order. Among other lyrics of a ferious caft the ' Elegy 
 over a Tomb ' (page 49) and the verfes ' To her Hair ' 
 Cpage 56) deferve mention. Of the lighter lyrics the 
 ' Ditty in Imitation of the Spanifh ' will probably be read 
 with much pleafure. The Platonic Love poems, though 
 not without intereft and even merit, cannot be faid to 
 hold a very high rank among poems of the clafs to which 
 they belong. With one exception — the ode on page 92, 
 
IntroduBion, xxxili 
 
 to which I have already referred — they are little calculated 
 either to pleafe or to ftrike. They have all the frigidity 
 and pedantic ingenuity of Petrarch and Bembo w^ithout 
 thofe beauties of expreffion which ftill attra6t us in 
 the Sonnetti and Canzoni. ' The Idea ' is, however, 
 well worth attentive perufal. Rarely have the doctrines 
 of pure Platonifm been more fkilfully applied, rarely have 
 philofophy and fentiment been more ingenioufly blended. 
 
 Herbert's moft confpicuous defeats, both in thefe and 
 in his other poems, are want of iinifh and exceilive 
 obfcurity. He feldom does juftice to his conceptions. 
 He had evidently no love for the labour of the file, and 
 he has paid, like Donne and Fulke Greville, the juft 
 penalty for his careleflhefs. 
 
 The Latin poems of Herbert are fcarcely likely to 
 find favour in the eyes of modern fcholars. Their dic- 
 tion is, as a rule, involved and obfcure ; they teem with 
 forced and unclaffical expreffions. His hendecafyllabics 
 are intolerably harfli, and violate almoft every metrical 
 canon. His Elegiacs are not more fuccefsfulj indeed, the 
 only tolerable copy among the poemata are the verfes on 
 a Dial, for the epigrams are below contempt. In his 
 hexameters he fucceeds better. The ' Menfa Luforia^ 
 is ingenious and not inelegant, and the ^ Pro Laureate 
 Poeta,' though unnecefTarily obfcure, is, like the epiftle to 
 Guftavus, extremely fpirited. But even at his beft he 
 
xxxiv Introdudiion. 
 
 cannot for an inftant be compared v/ith his contem- 
 poraries, Owen, Milton, Cowley, or May, who wrote 
 Latin, nor indeed with the purity of the poets of the 
 Italian Renaiflance, but with wonderful fluency and 
 vigour. Befide the Latin poems appearing in this volume, 
 Herbert was the author of three others, entitled refpec- 
 tively * Hsredibus ac Nepotibus fuis Praecepta,' which is in 
 elegiacs, ' De Vita Humana Philofophica Difquifitio,' and 
 ' De Vita Coelefli ex ejufdem principiis Conje(Slura,' which 
 are in hexameters. They are to be found among certain 
 tra6ls appended to the De Caufis Errorum^ printed in 
 1645.* The two laft appear alfo in the Autobiography^ 
 and they are by far the beft. But as thefe poems are not 
 likely to intereft readers in our day, and pofTefs little or 
 no value in themfelves, we have refrained from adding 
 them, even by way of appendix, to the prefent volume. 
 
 * The exa6l title of the volume is, De Caujis Errorum, una 
 cum tra6latu De Religione Laid et Appendice ad Saccrdotes^ necnon 
 quibufdam poematibus. Londini, 1 645 ( Walpole fays, erroneoufly, 
 
 .647). 
 
OCCASIONAL 
 VERSES 
 
 OF 
 
 EDWARD LORD HERBERT 
 
 BARON 
 
 OF 
 
 CHERBURY and CASTLE-ISLAND. 
 
 Deceafed in Auguji 1648. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by T. R. for THOMAS DRING, 
 
 At The George in Fleet Street, near Clifford's Inn. 
 
 1665. 
 
Right Hon. Edward Lord Herbert, 
 
 Baron of Cherbery in England and 
 Castle Island in Ireland. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 This CoUe5fion of Jome of the fcattered 
 Copes of Verjes, compofed in various and perplexed 
 times, by Edward Lord Herbert, your late Grand- 
 father, belongs of double right to your Lordfhip, as 
 Heir and Executor ; and had it been in his power to 
 have bequeathed his Learning by Will, as his Library 
 and Perfonal Eftate, it may be prejumed he would 
 have given it to you as the beft Legacy. But Learning 
 being not of our Gift, though of our Acquifttion, nor 
 of the Parapharnalia of a Lady's Chamber, nor of the 
 cajual and fortunate Goods of the World.^ it mufi be 
 acknowledged of a tranfcendency beyond natural things. 
 
xxxviii Preface to Original Edition, 
 
 and a beam of the Divinity, For by the Powers of 
 Knowledge Men are not only difiinguifhed from Men, 
 hut carried above the reach of ordinary Perjons, to 
 give Reajons even of their Belief — not that men believe 
 becauje they know, but know becauje they believe. 
 Faith muft -precede Knowledge ; and yet men are not 
 bound to accept matters of Religion^ though Religion be 
 the object and employment of faith, not of reafoning 
 merely without Reafon and probable Inducements, 
 
 That the learned Centuries are paft, and Learning 
 in declenfion, is too great a truth, which may in- 
 troduce Atheifme with Ignorance ; for as Ignorance is 
 the Mother of Devotion amongfi the Papifis, Jo 'tis 
 the Mother of Atheifme amongfi the Ignorant, 
 
 The great and mofi dangerous defign of our 
 Church and National Enemies y is to make us out 
 of Love with Learning, as a Mechanick thing and 
 beneath the Spirits of the Nobility and of Princes : 
 whereas nothing improves and enlightens the under- 
 standings of great Perjons but Learning, and not only 
 ennobles them far above their birth, but enables them 
 to impoj'e on others, and to give rather than take advice. 
 The Learned,^ Generous, and Vertuous Perfon needs no 
 
Preface to Original Edition, xxxix 
 
 Anceftors, And what can Jo properly he calVd ours as 
 what is of our purchaje ? 
 
 'Gentiles agunt fub nomine Chrifliano' was an 
 old Reproach upon the Primitive Chriftians ; and 
 now Men out-aot the Gentiles, 
 
 The Goods of this life are all Hydropick, Quo plus 
 bibuntur, plus fitiuntur. Men are the drier for 
 drinking and the poorer for covetoujnejs : no Jatiety^ 
 no fulnefs, hut in Jpiritual things, 'The way of 
 Vertue appeared to the Heathen to he the only way 
 to Happinejs, and yet they knew not many vertues 
 which are the Glory of Chriflianity ^ as Humility^ 
 Denying of our Jelves, Taking up the Cro/s, for- 
 giving and loving our Enemies^ which the Heathen 
 took for follies rather than Vertues. 
 
 As for Poetry^ it hears date he fore Proje, and 
 was of Jo great authority with the common People 
 and the wijer Jort of antiquity,, that it was in 
 veneration with their Sacred Writ and Records^ 
 from which they derived their divinity and helief 
 concerning their Godsy and that their Poets, as 
 Orpheus, Linus, and Mujaus, were dejcended of 
 the Gods, and divinely i'njpired, from the extra- 
 
xl Preface to Original Edition. 
 
 ordinary Motions of their Minds, and from the 
 Relations of firange Viftons, Raptures, and Ap- 
 paritions. 
 
 My Lord, excuje the liberty of this 'Dedication, 
 and believe me. 
 
 Tour Lordfhip's Uncle 
 
 and Humble Servant, 
 
 HENRT HERBERT. 
 March \Wi, i66i 
 
 .^^^ 
 
 ■s*' ' >^^ 
 
OCCASIONAL VERSES- 
 
 ro HIS jvjrcH 
 
 WHEN HE COULD NOT SLEEP. 
 
 T TNCESSANT Minutes, whiift you move you tell 
 The time that tells our life, which, though it run 
 Never fo faft or far, your nevv^ begun 
 Short fteps fhall overtake ; for though life well 
 
 May fcape his own Account, it fhall not yours. 
 
 You are Death's Auditors, that both divide 
 And fum what ere that life infpir'd endures 
 
 Paft a beginning, and through you we bide 
 
 The doom of Fate, whofe unrecall'd Decree 
 You date, bring, execute ; making what's new 
 111, and good old, for as we die in you, 
 
 You die in Time, Time in Eternity. 
 
Dirrr. 
 
 "r\EEP Sighs, Records of my unpitied Grief, 
 "^"^ Memorials of my true though hopelefs Love, 
 Keep time with my fad thoughts, till wilh'd Relief 
 My long defpairs for vain and cau fiefs prove. 
 Yet if fuch hap never to you befall, 
 I give you leave, break time, break heart, and all. 
 
 Lord, thus I fm, repent, and fm again, 
 
 As if Repentance only were in me 
 
 Leave for new Sin ; thus do I entertain 
 
 My fhort time, and Thy Grace, abufmg Thee 
 
 And Thy long fuffering, which, though it be 
 
 Ne'er overcome by Sin, yet were in vain 
 
 If tempted oft : thus we our Errors fee 
 
 Before our Punifhment, and fo remain 
 Without Excufe : and, Lord, in them ^tis true 
 Thy Laws are juft ; but why doft Thou diflrain 
 Ought elfe for life fave life ? That is Thy due, 
 The reft Thou mak'ft us owe, and may'ft to us 
 As well forgive. But, oh ! my fms renew, 
 Whilft I do talk with my Creator thus. 
 
 2 
 
* 
 
 A DESCRIPTION. 
 
 *T SING her worth and praifes, I, 
 -*■ Of whom a Poet cannot lie. 
 The little World the Great fhall blaze, 
 Sea, Earth, her Body ; Heaven, her Face, 
 Her Hair, Sunbeams, whofe every part 
 Lightens, inflames each Lover's Heart, 
 That thus you prove the *f-Axiom true, 
 Whilft the Sun helped Nature in you. 
 Her Front, the white and azure fky 
 In Light and Glory raifed high, 
 Being o'recaft by a cloudy frown. 
 All Hearts and Eyes deje6teth down ; 
 Her each Brow, a celeftial Bow 
 Which through this Sky her Light doth fhow. 
 Which doubled, if it ftrange appear 
 The Sun's likewife is doubled there ; 
 Her either Cheek, a blufhing Morn, 
 Which, on the Wings of Beauty born. 
 Doth never fet, but only fair 
 Shineth exalted in her hair ; 
 
 fjiiKpoKotTfxoQ fjiaKpoKoa-jjLog. t So/ et homo generant hominem. 
 
<iA TDefcription. 
 
 Within her Mouth Heaven's Heav'n refide ; 
 Her words the fouls there Glorifi'd ; 
 Her Nofe, th'^quator of this Globe, 
 Where Nakednefs, Beauty's beft Robe, 
 Prefents a form all Hearts to win. 
 Laft Nature made that Dainty Chin, 
 Which that it might in every faftiion 
 Anfwer the reft, a Conftellation 
 Like to a Delk, She there did place 
 To write the Wonders of her Face. 
 In this Coeleftial Frontifpiece, 
 Where Happinefs eternal lies, 
 Firft arranged ftand three Senfes, — 
 This Heaven's Intelligences, 
 Whofe feveral Motions fweet combined 
 Come from the firft Mover, her Mind. 
 The weight of this Harmonique Sphere 
 The Atlas of her Neck doth bear, 
 Whofe favours Day to Us imparts 
 When Frowns make Night in Lovers' Hearts. 
 Two foaming Billows are her Breafts, 
 That carry raif'd upon their Crefts 
 The Tyrian Fifti : More white's their Foam 
 Then that whence Venus once did come. 
 Here take her by the Hand, my Mufe, 
 With that Sv/eet Foe, to make my Truce. 
 4 
 
<tA Defcription, 
 
 To compa6l Manna beft compar'd, 
 
 Whofe dewy infide's not full hard. 
 
 Her Waift's an enverf'd Pyramis 
 
 Upon whofe Cone Love's Trophy is. 
 
 Her Belly is that Magazine 
 
 At whofe peep Nature did refigne 
 
 That precious Mould by which alone 
 
 There can be framed fuch a One : 
 
 At th' entrance of which hidden Treafure, 
 
 Happy making above meaffure. 
 
 Two Alabafter Pillars ftand, 
 
 To warn all paflage from that Land, 
 
 At foot whereof engraved is 
 
 The fad Non Ultra of Man's Blifs. 
 
 The back of this moft pretious Frame 
 
 Holds up in Majefty the Same ; 
 
 Where to make Mufic to all Hearts 
 
 Love bound the defcant of her parts. 
 
 Though all this Beauty's Temple be 
 
 There's known within no Deity 
 
 Save Virtues fhrin'd within her Will. 
 
 As I began, fo fay I ftill, 
 
 I fmg her Worth and Praifes, I, 
 
 Of whom a Poet cannot lie. 
 
 "^^^^S^^^^ 
 
ro HER FACE. 
 
 T7ATAL Afpe6l! that haft an influence 
 
 •*" More powerful far than thofe Immortal f'ires 
 
 That but incline the Will and move the Senfe 
 
 Which thou alone conftrainft, kindling defires 
 
 Of fuch a holy force, as more infpires 
 
 The Soul with Knowledge, than Experience 
 
 Or Revelation can do with all 
 
 Their borrow'd helps : Sacred Aftonifhment 
 
 Sits on thy Brow, threat'ning a fudden fall 
 
 To all thofe Thoughts that are not lowly fent 
 
 In wonder and amaze, dazzling that Eye 
 
 Which on thofe Myfteries doth rudely gaze. 
 
 Vow'd only unto Love's Divinity : 
 
 Sure Adam finn'd not in that fpotlefs Face. 
 
TO HER BODT. 
 
 T^ EGARDFUL Prefence ! whofe fix'd Majefty 
 
 Darts Admiration on the gazing Look 
 That brings it not : State fits enthron'd in thee. 
 Divulging forth her Laws in the fair Book 
 Of thy Commandements, which none miftook 
 That ever humbly came therein to fee 
 Their own unworthinefs. Oh, how can I 
 Enough admire that Symmetry, expreft 
 In new Proportions, which doth give the Lie 
 To that Arithmetic which hath profeft 
 All Numbers to be Hers ? Thy Harmony 
 Comes from the Spheres, and there doth prove 
 Strange meafures, fo well grac'd, as Majefty 
 Itfelf like thee would reft, like thee would move. 
 
ro HER MINB. 
 
 T( X ALTED Mind ! Whofe charaaer doth bear 
 ^-^ The firft idea of Perfedtion, whence 
 Adam's came, and ftands fo. How can'ft appear 
 In words that only tell what here- 
 Tofore hath been ? Thou need'ft as deep a fenfe 
 As Prophecy, fmce there's no difference 
 In telling what thou art and what (halt be. 
 Then pardon me that Rapture do profefs 
 At thy outfide, that want for what I fee 
 Defcription of. Here amaz'd I ceafe 
 
 Thus 
 
 Yet grant one queftion and no more, crav'd under 
 Thy gracious leave : How, if thou wouldft exprefs 
 Thyfelf to us, thou fhouldfl: be ftill a wonder ? 
 
 Thus ends my Love, but this doth grieve me moft 
 That fo it ends ; but that ends too; this yet, 
 Befides the Wilhes, hopes, and time I loft. 
 Troubles my mind awhile, that I am fet 
 8 
 
To her 3V[ind. 
 
 Free, worfe than denied : I can neither boaft 
 
 Choice nor Succefs as my Cafe is, nor get 
 
 Pardon from myfelf, that I loved not 
 
 A better Miftrefs, or her worfe. This Debt 
 
 Only's her due, ftill that fhe be forgot 
 
 Ere chang'd, left I love none : this done, the taint 
 
 Of foul Inconftancy is clear'd at leaft. 
 
 In me, there only refts but to unpaint 
 
 Her form in my mind, that fo difpofleft, 
 
 It be a Temple, but v^ithout a Saint, . 
 
 :) 
 
\s&^^^ 
 
 UPON COMBING HER HAIR. 
 
 11 REAKING from under that thy cloudy Veil 
 ■^^ Open and fhine yet more j fhine out more clear, 
 Thou glorious golden-beam-darting hair, 
 Even till my wonder-ftricken Senfes fail. 
 
 Shoot out in light, and fhine thofe Rays on far. 
 Thou much more fair than is the Queen of Love, 
 When fhe doth comb her in her Sphere above, 
 And from a Planet turns a Blazing Star. 
 
 Nay, thou art greater, too ! More deftiny 
 Depends on thee than on her influence. 
 No hair thy fatal hand doth now difpenfe. 
 But to fome one a thred of life muft be. 
 
 While gracious unto me thou both doft funder 
 Thofe glories which, if they united were. 
 Might have amazed fenfe, and (hew'ft each hair 
 Which, if alone, had been too great a wonder. 
 
 10 
 
upon Combing her Hair, 
 
 And now fpread in their goodly length, fh' appears 
 No creature which the earth might call her own ; 
 But rather one that, in her gliding down, 
 Heav'ns beams did crown, to fhew us fhe was theirs. 
 
 And come from thence, how can they fear Time's rage, 
 Which in his power elfe on earth moft ftrange, 
 Such golden treafure doth to Silver change 
 By that improper Alchemy of Age ? 
 
 But ftay ! methinks new Beauties do arife 
 
 While fhe withdraws thefe Glories which were fpread : 
 
 Wonder of Beauties ! fet thy radiant head. 
 
 And ftrike out Day from thy yet fairer eyes. 
 
 II 
 
DITrr IN IMI'TAriON of the SPANISH 
 ENTRE TANroaUE ELAVRIL. 
 
 ]VTOW that the April of your youth adorns 
 
 "*• The garden of your face. 
 
 Now that for you each knowing Lover mourns, 
 
 And all feek to your grace, 
 Do not repay afFeftion with fcorns. 
 
 What though you may a matchlefs Beauty vaunt. 
 
 And all that Hearts can move 
 By such a power that feemeth to enchant. 
 
 Yet, without help of Love, 
 Beauty no pleafure to itfelf can grant. 
 
 Then think each minute that you lofe a day. 
 
 The longeft youth is fhort. 
 The fhorteft Age is long j Time flies away, 
 
 And makes us but his fport. 
 And that which is not Youth's is Age's prey. 
 
 12 
 
Ditty, 
 
 See but the bravell Horfe that prideth moft. 
 
 Though he efcaped the War, 
 Either from Mafter to the Man, is loft, 
 
 Or turned unto the Car ; 
 Or elfe muft die with being ridden Poft. 
 
 Then lofe not Beauty, Lovers, Time, and all, 
 
 Too late your fault you fee. 
 When that in vain you would thefe days recall. 
 
 Nor can you virtuous be, 
 When without thefe you have not wherewithal. 
 
 13 
 
THE STATE-PROGRESS OF ILL. 
 
 T SAY, 'tis hard to write Satires. Though 111 
 
 '*' Great'ned in his long courfe, and fwelling ftill. 
 
 Be now like to a Deluge, yet, as Nile, 
 
 'Tis doubtful in his original. This while 
 
 We may thus much on either part prefume, 
 
 That what fo univerfal are, muft come 
 
 From caufes great and far. Now in this State 
 
 Of things, which is leaft like good. Men hate, 
 
 Since 'twill be the lefs fin. I do fee 
 
 Some ill required, that one poifon might free 
 
 The other ; fo ftates, to their Greatnefs, find 
 
 No faults required but their own, and bind 
 
 The reft. And though this be myfterious, ftill. 
 
 Why ftiould we not imagine how this 111 
 
 Did come at firft, how't keeps his greatnefs here. 
 
 When 'tis difguif'd, and when it doth appear. 
 
 This 111, having fome attributes of God 
 
 As to have made it felf and bear the rod 
 
 Of all our puniftiments, as it feems, came 
 
The State-Vrogrefs of III. 
 
 Into the World to rule It, and to tame 
 
 The pride of Goodnefs ; and though his Reign 
 
 Great in the hearts of men he doth maintain 
 
 By love, not right, he yet the tyrant here 
 
 (Though it be him we love and God we fear), 
 
 Pretence yet wants not, that it was before 
 
 Some part of Godhead, as Mercy, that ftore 
 
 For Souls grown Bankrupt, their firft flock of Grace, 
 
 And that which the fmner of the laft place 
 
 Shall number out, unlefs th' Higheft will fliow 
 
 Some power not yet reveaFd to Man below. 
 
 But that I may proceed, and fo go on 
 
 To trace 111 in his firft progreflion. 
 
 And through his Secret'ft ways, and where that he 
 
 Had left his nakednefs as well as we, 
 
 And did appear himfelf, 
 
 I note that in I = I . ) Peccamus nobis. 
 
 The yet infant world how S 1 J^ § > 
 
 Mifchief and fin, ( " e "^ ) Nocemus aliis. 
 
 His Agents here on earth, and eafy known, 
 Are now concealed Intelligencers grown : 
 For fince that as a Guard th' Higheft at once 
 Put Fear t' attend their private anions, 
 And Shame their publick, other means being fail'd, 
 Mifchief under doing of Good was veil'd, 
 15 
 
The State-Trogrefs of III. 
 
 And Sin, of Pleafure ; though in this difguife 
 They only hide themfelves from mortal eyes. 
 Sins, thofe that both com- and o-mitted be, 
 Once hot and cold, but in a third degree 
 Are now fuch poifons, that though they may lurk 
 In fecret parts awhile, yet they will work 
 Though after death ; nor ever come alone, 
 But fudden-fruitful multiply ere done. 
 While in this monftrous birth they only die 
 Whom we confefs, thofe live which we deny. 
 Mifchiefs, like fatal Conftellations, 
 Appear unto the ignorant at once 
 In glory and in hurt, while th'unfeen part 
 Of the great caufe may be perchance the Art 
 Of th' 111 and hiding it, which that I may 
 Ev'n in his firft original difplay. 
 And beft example, fure amongft Kings, he. 
 Who firft wanted fucceffions to be, 
 A Tyrant was, wife enough to have chofe 
 An honeft man for King, which fliould difpofe 
 Thofe beafts, which being fo tame, yet otherwife 
 As it feems, could not herd ; And with advife 
 Somewhat indifferent for both, he might 
 Yet have provided for their Children's right, 
 If they grew wifer, not his own, that fo 
 They might repent, yet under treafon, who 
 i6 
 
The State-'Progrefs of III. 
 
 Ne'er promlPd faith : though now we cannot fpare 
 (And not be worfe) Kings, on thofe terms, they are 
 No worfe than we could fpare (and have been favM) 
 Original fin. So then thofe Priefts that rav'd 
 And prophefy'd, they did a kind of good 
 They knew not of, by whom the choice firft flood. 
 
 Since, then, we may confider now as fit 
 State government, and all the Adts of it, 
 That we may know them yet, let us fee how 
 They were derived, done, and are maintained now. 
 That Princes may by this yet underftand 
 Why we obey as well as they command. 
 State a proportion'd colour'd table is, 
 Nobility the mafter-piece in this. 
 Serves to fhew diftances ; while being put 
 'Twixt fight and vaftnefs they feem higher, but 
 As they're further off; yet as thofe blue hills 
 Which th'utmoft border of a Region fills, 
 They are great and worfe parts, while in the fteep 
 Of this great Profpe6tive they feem to keep 
 Further abfent from thofe below, though this 
 Exalted Spirit, that's fure a free Soul, is 
 A greater Privilege than to be born 
 At Venice, although he feek not rule, doth fcorn 
 Subjection, but as he is flefh, and fo 
 He is to dulnefs, ihame, and many moe 
 
 17 c 
 
The State-Trogrefs of III 
 
 Such properties, knows, but the Painter's Art, 
 All in the frame is equal. That defert 
 Is a more living thing, and doth obey- 
 As he gives poor, for God's fake (though they 
 And Kings afk it not fo), thinks Honours are 
 Figures compoPd of lines irregular, 
 And happy-high knows no eledlion 
 Raifeth man to true Greatnefs but his own. 
 Meanwhile fugar'd Divines, next place to this. 
 Tell us Humility and Patience is 
 The way to Heaven, and that we muft there 
 Look for our Kingdom j that the great'ft rule here 
 Is for to rule ourfelves. And that they might 
 Say this the better, they to no place have right 
 B'inheritance, while whom Ambition fways. 
 Their office is to turn it other ways. 
 
 Thofe yet, whofe harder minds Religion 
 Cannot invade, nor turn from thinking on 
 A prefent greatnefs, that combin'd curfe of Law 
 Of officers' and Neighbours' fpite doth draw 
 Within fuch whirlpools, that till they be drown'd 
 They ne'er get out, but only fwim them round. 
 
 Thus brief, fince that the infinite of ill 
 Is neither eafie told nor fafe, I will 
 But only note how freeborn Man, fubdu'd 
 By his own choice, that was at firft endu'd 
 i8 
 
The State-'Progrefs of III 
 
 With equal power over all, doth now fubmit 
 
 That infinite of Number, Spirit, Wit, 
 
 To fome eight Monarchs. Then why wonder Men 
 
 Their rule of horfes ? 
 The world, as in the Ark of Noah, refts 
 CompoPd as then, few Men and many Beafts. 
 
 Aug. 1608. 
 At Merlou in France. 
 
 19 
 
SATTRA SECUNBA 
 
 OF TRAVELLERS FROM PJRIS. 
 
 T>EN JOHNSON, travel is a fecond birth 
 ■^^ Unto the Children of another Earth ; 
 Only as our King Richard was, fo they appear. 
 New born to another World, with teeth and hair. 
 While got by Englifh Parents, carried in 
 Some Womb of thirty-tun and lightly tv/in. 
 They are delivered at Calais or at Dieppe, 
 And ftrangely ftand, go feed themfelves, nay, keep 
 Their own money ftreightways ; but that is all, 
 For none can underftand them when they call 
 For anything. No more than Badger, 
 That call'd the Queen Monfieur, laid a wager 
 With the King of his Dogs who underftood 
 Them all alike, which Badger thought was good. 
 But that I may proceed. Since their birth is 
 Only a kind of Metempfychofis, 
 Such Knowledge as their Memory could give 
 They have for help, what time thefe Souls do live 
 In Englifh clothes ; a body which again 
 20 
 
Satyr a Secunda, 
 
 They never rife unto, but, as you fee 
 When they come home, Hke children yet that be 
 Of their own bringing up ; all they learn is 
 Toys and the Language, but to attain this 
 You muft conceive they're cofen'd, mocked, and come 
 To Fourbourgs St. Germans, there take a Room 
 Lightly about th' AmbafTadors, and vi^here. 
 Having no Church, they come Sundays to hear 
 An invitation v^hich they have moft part, 
 If their outfide but promife a defert, 
 To fit above the Secretaries' place, 
 Although it be almoft as rare a cafe 
 To fee Englifh v^ell cloth'd here, as v^^ith you 
 At London, Indians. But that your view 
 May comprehend at once them gone for Blois 
 Or Orleans ; learn'd French, now no more Boys 
 But perfedl: men at Paris, putting on 
 Some forc'd difguife, or labour'd fafhion. 
 To appear ftrange at home, befides their ftay, 
 Laugh and look on with me, to fee what they 
 Are now become ; but that the poorer fort, 
 A fubje61: not fit for my Mufe nor fport. 
 May pafs untouch'd, let's but confider what 
 Elpus is now become, once young, handfome, and that 
 Was fuch a Wit, as very well with four 
 Of the fix might have made one, and no more, 
 21 
 
Safyra Secunda, 
 
 Had he been at their Valentine, and could 
 Agree, your Rus fhould ufe the flock who would 
 Carefully in that, ev'n as 'twere his own 
 Put out their Jefts, briefly one that was grown 
 Ripe to another tafte than that wherein 
 He is now feafoned and dry'd, as in 
 His face by this you fee, which would perplex 
 A ftranger to define his years, or fex ; 
 To which his wrinkles, when he fpeaks doth give 
 That Age his words fliould have, while he doth ftrive. 
 As if fuch births had never come from brain 
 To (hew his mots deliver'd without pain, 
 Nor without After-throes. Sometimes as grace 
 Did overflow in circles o're his face, 
 Ev'n to the brim, which he thinks fure 
 If this pofture do but fo long endure 
 That it be fix'd by Age he'll look as like 
 A fpeaking fign, as our St. George to ftrike. 
 That, where he is, none but will hold their peace 
 If th' have but the leaft good manners, or confefs, 
 If he fhould fpeak, he did prefume too far 
 In fpeaking then, when others readier are. 
 Now that he fpeaks are complemental fpeeches 
 That never go off but below the breeches 
 Of him he doth falute, while he doth wring 
 And with fome loofe French words which he doth 
 firing, 22 
 
Satyra Seciinda, 
 
 Windeth about the arms, the legs and fides, 
 Moft ferpent-like of any man that bides 
 His indirect approach, which being done 
 Almofl without an introdu6lion, 
 If he have heard but any bragging French 
 Boaft of the favor of fome noble wench. 
 He'll fwear 'twas he did her graces poflefs. 
 And damn his own foul for the wickednefs 
 Of other men, ftrangeft of all In that. 
 But I am weary to defcribe you what, 
 Ere this, you can. As for the little fry 
 That all along the ftreet turn up the eye 
 At everything they meet, that have not jQt 
 Seen that fwol'n vicious Queen Margaret, 
 Who were a monfter ev'n without her fm, 
 Nor the Italian comedies wherein 
 
 Women play Boys. 1 ceafe to write. 
 
 To end this Satire and bid thee good Night. 
 
 Sept. 1608. 
 
 23 
 
I MUST depart, but like to his laft breath 
 That leaves the feat of life for liberty, 
 I go, but dying, and in this our death 
 Where foul and foul is parted, it is I 
 The deader part yet fly away, 
 While (he, alas ! in whom before 
 1 liv'd, dies her own death and more, 
 I feeling mine too much, and her own ftay. 
 But fince I mufl: depart, and that our love 
 Springing at firfl but in an earthly mould 
 Tranfplanted to our fouls, now doth remove 
 Earthly affeds, which time and diftance would. 
 Nothing now can our loves allay, 
 Though as the better Spirits will 
 That both love us and know our ill. 
 We do not either all the good we may. 
 Thus when our Souls that muft immortal be, 
 
 For our loves cannot die, nor we (unlefs 
 We die not both together) fliall be free 
 
 Unto their open and eternal peace. 
 Sleep, Death's EmbafTador, and befl 
 Image, doth yours often fo fhow. 
 That I thereby muft plainly know. 
 Death unto us muft be freedom and reft. 
 
 Ma;^ 1608. 
 
 24 
 
H 
 
 MJBRIGAL, 
 
 OW fhould I love my beft ? 
 
 What though my love unto that height be grown. 
 That taking joy in you alone, 
 I utterly this world deteft. 
 Should I not love it yet as th' only place. 
 Where Beauty hath his perfe6l grace. 
 And is pofTeft ? 
 
 But I beauties defpife. 
 You, univerfal beauty feem to me. 
 Giving and fhewing form and degree 
 To all the reft, in your fair eyes. 
 Yet fliould I not love them as parts whereon 
 Your beauty, their perfedion, 
 And top doth rife ? 
 
 But ev'n my felf I hate. 
 So far my love is from the leaft delight. 
 That at my very felf I fpite. 
 Senfelefs of any happy ftate. 
 Yet may I. not with jufteft reafon fear, 
 How hating hers, I truly her 
 Can celebrate ? 
 
 25 
 
^Madrigal, 
 
 Thus unrefolved ftill, 
 Although world, life, nay what Is fair befide, 
 I cannot for your fake abide, 
 Methinks I love not to my fill. 
 Yet, if a greater love you can devife. 
 In loving you fome otherwife, 
 Believe't I will. 
 
 26 
 
ANOTHER. 
 
 I AEAR, when I did from you remove, 
 ^^ I left my joy, but not my love ; 
 
 That never can depart. 
 It neither higher can afcend. 
 
 Nor lower bend. 
 Fixt in the centre of my heart. 
 
 As in his place. 
 And lodged fo, how can it change, 
 
 Or you grow ftrange ? 
 Thofe are earth's properties and bafe. 
 Each where, as the bodies divine, 
 
 Heav'n*s lights and you to me will fhine. 
 
 27 
 
ro HIS FRIEND BEN JOHNSON, OF HIS 
 HORACE MADE ENGLISH 
 
 TT was not enough Ben Johnfon to be thought 
 -*■ Of Engllfh Poets beft, but to have brought 
 In greater ftate to their acquaintance one 
 So equal to himfelf and thee, that none 
 Might be thy fecond, while thy Glory is 
 To be the Horace of our times and his. 
 
 28 
 
EPKAPH. CMCIL-BOULFER 
 
 QU^ POST LJNGUESCENTEM MORBUM 
 
 NON SINE INQUIETUDINE 
 
 SPIRITUS ^c, CONSCIENTIyE OBIIT. 
 
 ^dTfigurT ]VI ^^'T^INKS ^^^^^ ^i^e «"e laughing lies, 
 mortis ^ -*- -*- Shewing his teeth, fhutting his eyes, 
 
 prasfigenda, ^^ , , , o y 
 
 Only thus to have found her here 
 He did with fo much reafon fear, 
 And fhe defpife. 
 
 For barring all the gates of Sin, 
 Death's open ways to enter in, 
 She was with a ftri6l fiege befet, 
 So what by force he could not get, 
 By time to win. 
 
 This mighty Warrior was deceived yet. 
 For what he mutin * in her powers, thought 
 
 Was but their zeal ; 
 And what by their excefs might have been wrought, 
 
 Her fafts did heal. 
 
 * Mutiny. 
 29 
 
Epitaph Ccecil Boulfer. 
 
 Till that her noble foul, by thefe, as wings, 
 Tranfcending the low pitch of earthly things. 
 As being reliev'd by God and fet at large, 
 And grown by this, worthy a higher charge. 
 Triumphing over Death to Heaven fled. 
 And did not die, but left her body dead. 
 
 July 1609. 
 
 30 
 
EPirAPH, GULL HERBERT BE SWANSET 
 
 QUI SINE PROLE O BUT AUG, 1609. 
 
 /'^REAT Spirit, that in New Ambition, 
 ^^ Stoop'd not below his merit, 
 But with his proper worth being carry'd on, 
 Stoop'd at no fecond place, till now in one 
 He doth all place inherit. 
 
 Live endlefs here in fuch brave memory, 
 
 The beft tongue cannot fpot it ; 
 While they which knew, or but have heard of thee, 
 Muft never hope thy like again to be, 
 
 Since thou haft not begot it. 
 
 31 
 
IN A GLASS WIND 07/ FOR 
 INCONSTANCY. 
 
 LOVE, of this cleareft, fraileft glafs. 
 Divide the properties, fo as 
 In the divifion may appear 
 Clearnefs for me, frailty for her. 
 
 32 
 
ELECT FOR THE PRINCE,"^ 
 
 TWrUST he be ever dead ? Cannot we add 
 Another life unto that Prince that had 
 Our fouls laid up in him ? Could not our love. 
 Now when he left us, make that body move 
 After his death one Age ? And keep unite 
 That frame wherein our fouls did fo delight ? 
 For what are fouls but love ? fmce they do know 
 Only for it, and can no further go. 
 Senfe is the Soul of Beafts, becaufe none can 
 Proceed fo far as t'underftand like man. 
 And if Souls be more where they love than where 
 They animate, why did it not appear 
 In keeping him alive ? Or how is fate 
 Equal to us, when one man's private hate 
 May ruin Kingdoms, when he will expofe 
 Himfelf to certain death, and yet all thofe 
 Not keep alive this Prince, who now is gone, 
 Whofe loves would give thoufands of lives for one ? 
 Do we then die in him, only as we 
 May in the world's harmonique body fee 
 An univerfally difFufed foul 
 
 * Henry, Prince of Wales. He died in November, 1612. 
 
 33 D 
 
Elegy for the Prince. 
 
 Move in the parts which moves not in the whole ? 
 
 So though we reft with him, we do appear 
 
 To live and ftir awhile, as if he were 
 
 Still quickening us ? Or do (perchance) we live 
 
 And knov/ it not ? See we not Autumn give 
 
 Back to the earth again what it received 
 
 In th' early Spring ? And may not we deceived 
 
 Think that thofe powers are dead, which do but fleep, 
 
 And the world's foul doth reunited keep ? 
 
 And though this Autumn gave what never more 
 
 Any Spring can unto the world reftore. 
 
 May we not be deceived, and think we knov/ 
 
 Ourfelves for dead ? Becaufe that we are fo 
 
 Unto each other, when as yet we live 
 
 A life his love and memory doth give. 
 
 Who was our world's foul, and to whom we are 
 
 So reunite, that in him we repair 
 
 All other our afFe£lions ill beftowed : 
 
 Since by this love we now have fuch abode 
 
 With him in Heaven as we had here, before 
 
 He left us dead. Nor fhall we queftion more 
 
 Whether the Soul of Man be memory 
 
 As Plato thought ; * We and pofterity 
 
 * It would be interefting to know where Plato has made 
 this fingular afTertion. I fear it is more eafy to account for 
 Herbert's remark than to corroborate it. 
 
 34 
 
Elegy for the Prince, 
 
 Shall celebrate his name, and virtuous grow 
 
 Only in memory that he was fo, 
 
 And on thofe terms we may feem yet to live, 
 
 Becaufe he lived once, though we fhall ftrive 
 
 To figh away this feeming life fo faft, 
 
 As if with us 'twere not already paft. 
 
 We then are dead, for what doth now remain 
 
 To pleafe us more, or what can we call pain 
 
 Now we have loft him ? And v/hat elfe doth make 
 
 Difference in life and death, but to partake 
 
 Nor Joy nor Pain ? Oh death ! could'ft not fulfil 
 
 Thy rage againft us no way but to kill 
 
 This Prince in v/hom we liv'd ? that fo we all 
 
 Might perifti by thy hand at once, and fall 
 
 Under his ruin ? Thenceforth though we fhould 
 
 Do all the a6lions that the living would. 
 
 Yet we ftiall not remember that we live. 
 
 No more than when our mother's womb did give 
 
 That life we felt not. Or fhould we proceed 
 
 To fuch a wonder, that the dead fiiould breed, 
 
 It fhould be wrought to keep that memory 
 
 Which being his, can, therefore, never die. 
 
 November 9, 161 2. 
 
 35 
 
EPI'TAPH OF KING JAMES, 
 
 TTERE lies King James, who did fo propagate 
 -*• -*■ Unto the World that bleft and quiet ftate 
 Wherein his fubje(5ts liv'd, he feemed to give 
 That peace which Chrift did leave ; and did fo live. 
 As once that King and Shepherd of his Sheep, 
 That whom God faved, here he feemed to keep, 
 Till with that innocent and fmgle heart 
 With which he firft was crown'd he did depart, 
 To better life. Great Brittain, fo lament 
 That Strangers more than thou may yet refent 
 The fad efFe6ls, and while they feel the harm 
 They muft endure from the vi61:orious arm 
 Of our King Charles, may they fo long complain, 
 That tears in them force thee to weep again. 
 
 36 
 
A VISION. 
 A LADY COMBING HER HAIR. 
 
 \X 7ITHIN an open curled fea of gold The hair. 
 
 A Bark of Ivory one day I faw, The comb. 
 
 Which ftriking with his oars did feem to draw The teeth of 
 Tow'rds a fair Coaft which I then did behold. 
 
 A Lady held the Stern, while her white hand, 
 Whiter than either ivory or sail. 
 Over the furging waves did fo prevail 
 
 That fhe had now approached near the land. 
 
 When fuddenly, as if fhe feared fome wrack, 
 And yet the Sky was fair, and Air was clear. 
 And neither Rock, nor Monfter did appear 
 
 Doubling the Point, which fpied, fhe turned back. 
 
 the comb. 
 Her fide. 
 
 The cuff or 
 fmock fleeve. 
 
 Her fhoulder. 
 
 Wart. 
 
 Combing in an- 
 other place. 
 
 Then with a fecond courfe I faw her fleer. 
 As if fhe meant to reach fome other Bay, 
 Wherebeing approached, fhe likewife turned away, 
 
 Though in the Bark fome waves now entred were. ^^"".^ '" '^^ 
 
 *-" comb. 
 
 37 
 
lA Vijion, 
 
 Though varying oft her courfe at laft I found, 
 While I in queft of the Adventure go, 
 
 She had given 'pj^g g^jj ^.qq]^ down and Oars had ceas'd to row, 
 over combing. 
 
 And that the Bark itfelf vv^as run aground. 
 
 Her face. Wherewith Earth's faireft creature I beheld. 
 
 Her hair put up For which both Bark and Sea I gladly loft, 
 and^comb caft ^et no Philofopher, of Knowledge boaft, 
 Unlefs that he my Vifion can unfold. 
 
 38 
 
'' I ^EARS flow no more, or if you needs muft flow, 
 -*- Fall yet more flow, 
 
 Do not the world invade. 
 From fmaller fprings than yours rivers have grown. 
 
 And they again a Sea have made 
 Brackifh like you, and which like you hath flown. 
 
 Ebb to my heart, and on the burning fires 
 Of my defires 
 
 Let your torrents fall. 
 From fmaller Sparks than theirs fuch fparks arife 
 
 As into flame converting all, 
 This world might be but my love's facrifice. 
 
 Yet if, the tempeflis of my fighs, so slow 
 You both muft flow, 
 And my defires ftill burn. 
 Since that in vain all help my love requires, 
 
 Why may not yet their rages turn 
 To dry thofe tears and to blow out thofe fires ? 
 Italy, 1 6 14. 
 
 39 
 
Dirrr 
 
 TO THE TUNE OF A CHE DEL QUJNTO MIO 
 OF PESJRINO. 
 
 \X ZHERE now fhall thefe accents go ? 
 
 At which creatures filent grow 
 While Woods and Rocks do fpeak. 
 
 And feem to break 
 Complains too long for them to hear. 
 Saying I call in vain : Echo — All in vain. 
 
 Where there is no relief: Ec. — Here is no relief. 
 
 Ah why then fhould I fear 
 Unto her rocky heart to fpeak that grief 
 In whofe laments thefe bear a part ? 
 Then, cruel heart, 
 Do but fome anfwer give. 
 I do but crave. = Do you forbid to hve or bid to 
 live ? 
 
 Echo — Live. 
 
 40 
 
Dirrr. 
 
 /^^ AN I then live to draw that breath 
 ^^ Which muft bid farewell to thee ? 
 
 Yet how (hould death not feize on me ? 
 Since abfence from the life I hold fo dear muft 
 needs be death. 
 
 While I do feel in parting 
 
 Such a living dying. 
 As in this my moft fatal hour, 
 
 Grief fuch a life doth lend 
 As quick'ned by his power 
 
 Even death cannot end. 
 
 I am the firft that ever lov'd, 
 He yet that for the place contends, 
 Againft true love fo much offends 
 
 That even this way it is prov'd. 
 41 
 
T>itty, 
 
 For whofe affe6tion once is fhown, 
 No longer can the World beguile ; 
 Who fees his penance all the while, 
 
 He holds a Torch to make her known. 
 
 You are the firft were ever lov'd, 
 And who may think this not fo true, 
 So little knows of love or you. 
 
 It need not otherwife be prov'd. 
 
 For though the more judicious eyes 
 May know when Diamonds are right, 
 There is required a greater light 
 
 Their eftimate and worth to prize. 
 
 While they who moft for beauty ftrive 
 Can with no Art fo lovely grow, 
 As fhe who doth but only owe 
 
 So much as true afFecSlions give. 
 
 Thus firft of Lovers I appear, 
 
 For more appearance makes me none, 
 And thus are you belov'd alone. 
 
 That are prizM infinitely dear. 
 42 
 
Epitaph of a Stinkjng Voet, 
 
 Yet, as in our Northern Clime, 
 
 Rare fruits, though late, appear at laft ; 
 As we may fee fome years being paft, 
 
 Our Orange trees grow ripe with time. 
 
 So think not ftrange, if Love to break 
 His wonted Silence now makes bold j 
 For a Love is feven years old, 
 
 Is it not time to learn to fpeak ? 
 
 Then gather in that, which doth grow 
 And ripen to that faireft hand. 
 'Tis not enough that trees do Hand 
 
 If their fruit fall and perifh too. 
 
 EPirAPH OF A STINKING POET, 
 
 H 
 
 ERE ftinks a Poet I confefs, 
 
 Yet wanting breath ftinks fo much lefs. 
 
 43 
 
A D/rrr TO THE TUNE OF 
 COSE FERITE, 
 
 MADE BT LORENZO ALLEGRE TO ONE 
 SLEEPING. To be Jung. 
 
 ^H Wonder ! 
 
 So fair a heaven. 
 So fair, &c. 
 
 And no Star shining. 
 Ay me and no Star, &c. 
 'Tis paft my divining. 
 
 Yetjiay! 
 May not perchance this be fome rifmg Morn 
 
 Which in the fcorn 
 Of our World^s light difclofes 
 This air of violets, that fky of rofes ? 
 
 'Tisfo! 
 An oriental fphere 
 Doth open and appear, 
 
 Afcending bright ; 
 Then fmce thy hymen I chant 
 May' ft thou new pleafures grant. 
 
 Admired light. 
 
 44 
 
EPirAPH 
 ON SIR EDWARD SACKVILLES CHILD, 
 
 WHO DIED IN HIS BIRTH 
 
 TJ EADER ! here lies a child that never cried, 
 •^^ And therefore never died. 
 
 'Twas neither old nor yong, 
 Born to this and the other world in one. 
 
 Let us then ceafe to moan, 
 Nothing that ever died hath liv'd (o long. 
 
 45 
 
^ISSING. 
 
 COME hither, Womankind, and all their worth, 
 Give me thy kifles as I call them forth ; 
 Give me thy billing kifs ; that of the Dove, 
 
 A Kifs of Love ; 
 The Melting Kifs, a Kifs that doth confume 
 
 To a perfume ; 
 The extra6t Kifs, of every fweet a part ; 
 
 A Kifs of Art ; 
 The Kifs which ever ftirs fome new delight, 
 
 A Kifs of Might ; 
 The twacking fmacking Kifs, and when you ceafe, 
 
 A Kifs of Peace ; 
 The Mufick Kifs, crotchet and quaver time ; 
 
 The Kifs of Rhyme ; 
 The Kifs of Eloquence which doth belong 
 
 Unto the tongue ; 
 The Kifs of all the Sciences in one. 
 
 The Kifs alone. 
 So 'tis enough. 
 
 46 
 
DiTrr. 
 
 TF you refufe me once, and think again, 
 
 I will complain. 
 
 You are deceived ; Love is no work of Art, 
 
 It muft be got and born, 
 
 Not made and worn, 
 
 Or fuch wherein you have no part. 
 
 Or do you think they more than once can die 
 
 Whom you deny ? 
 Who tell you of a thoufand deaths a day. 
 Like the old Poets feign. 
 And tell the pain 
 They met but in the common way ? 
 
 Or do you think it is too foon to yield 
 
 And quit the Field ? 
 You are deceived, they yield who firft intreat. 
 Once one may crave for love. 
 But more would prove 
 This heart too little, that too great. 
 47 
 
T>itty, 
 
 Give me then fo much love, that w^e may burn 
 
 Paft all return, 
 Who midft your beauties, flames, and spirit live, 
 So great a light muft find 
 As to be blind 
 To all but what their fires give. 
 
 Then give me fo much love, as in one point. 
 
 Fixed and conjoint, 
 May make us equal in our flames arife. 
 
 As v\^e fhall never ftart. 
 Until w^e dart 
 Lightning upon the envious eyes. 
 
 Then give me fo much love, that we may move 
 
 Like ftars of love. 
 And glad and happy times to Lovers bring. 
 While glorious in one fphere 
 We ftill appear 
 And keep an everlafting fpring. 
 
 48 
 
ELECT OVER A "TOMB, 
 
 |i /I^UST I then fee, alas ! eternal night 
 
 Sitting upon thofe faireft eyes, 
 And clofing all thofe beams, which once did rife 
 
 So radiant and bright, 
 That light and heat in them to us did prove 
 
 Knowledge and Love ? 
 
 Oh, if you did delight no more to ftay 
 Upon this low and earthly fiage. 
 
 But rather chofe an endlefs heritage. 
 Tell us at leaft, we pray. 
 
 Where all the beauties that thofe afhes ow'd 
 Are now beflow'd? 
 
 Doth the Sun now his light with yours renew? 
 
 Have Waves the curling of your hair? 
 Did you reftore unto the Sky and Air 
 
 The red and white and blue ? 
 Have you vouchfafed to flowers fince your death, 
 
 That fweeteft breath ? 
 
 49 E 
 
Eie^ over a Tomb, 
 
 Had not Heav'n's Lights elfe in their houfes flept. 
 
 Or to fome private life retir'd ? 
 Muft not the Sky and Air have elfe confpir'd 
 
 And in their Regions wept ? 
 Muft not each flower elfe the earth could breed 
 
 Have been a weed ? 
 
 But thus enrich'd may we not yield fome caufe 
 Why they themfelves lament no more, 
 
 That muft have changed courfe they held before, 
 And broke their proper Laws, 
 
 Had not your Beauties giv'n their fecond birth 
 To Heaven and Earth ? 
 
 Tell us, for Oracles muft ftill afcend 
 
 For thofe that crave them at your tomb ; 
 
 Tell us, where are thofe Beauties now become 
 And what they now intend ; 
 
 Tell us, alas ! that cannot tell our grief, 
 Or hope relief. 
 
 1617. 
 
 50 
 
EPirjPH ON SIR FRANCIS VERE, 
 
 R 
 
 EADER,— 
 
 If thou appear 
 Before that tomb attention give, 
 And do not fear, 
 Unlefs it be to live. 
 For dead is great Sir Francis Verc. 
 
 Of whom this might be faid, Should God ordain 
 One to deftroy all fmners v^^hom That One 
 Redeemed not there, that fo He might atone 
 
 His chofen flock, and take from earth that ftain 
 That fpots it ftill, he worthy were alone 
 To finifh it, and have, when they were gone, 
 
 This world for him made Paradife again. 
 
 51 
 
TO MRS, DIANA CECTLL. 
 
 T^IANA CECYLL, that rare beauty thou doft 
 -^ {how 
 
 Is not of Milk, or Snow, 
 Or fuch as pale and whitely things do owe, 
 But an illuftrious Oriental Bright, 
 
 Like to the Diamond's refrafted light, 
 Or early Morning breaking from the Night. 
 
 Nor are thy hair and eyes made of that ruddy beam 
 Or golden-fanded ftream 
 Which we find ftill the vulgar Poet's theme. 
 But reverend black, and fuch as you would fay 
 Light did but ferve it, and did fhew the way 
 By which at firfl: night did precede the day. 
 
 Nor is that fymmetry of parts and form divine 
 Made of one vulgar line, 
 Or fuch as any know how to define. 
 But of proportions new, fo well exprell 
 That the perfections in each part confeft 
 Are beauties to themfelves and to the reft. 
 52 
 
To <3Irs, Diana CecylL 
 
 Wonder of all thy Sex ! let none henceforth inquire 
 Why they fo much admire, _ 
 Since they that know thee beft afcend no higher. 
 Only be not with common praifes wooed, 
 Since admiration were no longer good. 
 When men might hope more then they underftood. 
 
 53 
 
rO HER ETES, 
 
 "OLACK eyes, if you feem dark, 
 *^ It is becaufe your beams are deep 
 And with your foul united keep. 
 Who could difcern 
 Enough into them there, might learn 
 Whence they derive that mark, 
 And how their power is fuch 
 That all the wonders which proceed from thence, 
 AfFeding more the mind then fenfe, 
 
 Are not fo much 
 The works of light, as influence. 
 
 As you then joined are 
 Unto the foul, fo it again 
 By its connexion doth pertain 
 
 To that firfl caufe, 
 Who, giving all their proper Laws, 
 
 By you doth beft declare 
 
 How he at firft being hid 
 54 
 
T<? her Syes, 
 
 Within the veil of an eternal night, 
 Did frame for us a fecond light, 
 
 And after bid 
 It ferve for ordinary fight. 
 
 His image then you are ; 
 If there be any yet who doubt 
 What power it is that doth look out 
 
 Through that your black. 
 He will not an example lack. 
 
 If he fuppofe that there 
 
 Were grey or hazel Glafs, 
 And that through them, though sight or soul 
 
 might fhine, 
 He muft yet at the laft define 
 
 That beams which pafs 
 Through black, cannot but be divine. 
 
 55 
 
rO HER HAIR. 
 
 T3LACK beamy hairs, which fo feem to arlfe 
 
 From the extra6):ion of thofe eyes, 
 That unto you flie deftin-like doth fpin 
 The beams flie fpares, what time her foul retires, 
 
 And by thofe hallowed fires 
 
 Keeps houfe all night within. 
 
 Since from within her awful front you fhine, 
 As threads of life which fhe doth twine, 
 And thence afcending with the fatal rays 
 To crown thofe temples, where Love's wonders 
 wrought. 
 We afterwards fee brought 
 To vulgar light and praife. 
 
 Lighten through all your regions, till we find 
 
 The caufes why we are grown blind. 
 That when we fhould your Glories comprehend. 
 Our fight recoils, and turneth back again, 
 And doth, as 'twere in vain, 
 Itfelf to you extend. 
 
 56 
 
To her Hair. 
 
 Is it, becaufe pad black, there is not found 
 
 A fix'd or horizontal bound ? 
 And fo as it doth terminate the white, 
 It may be faid all colours to infold. 
 
 And in that kind to hold 
 
 Somewhat of infinite ? 
 
 Or is it that the centre of our fight, 
 Being veiled in its proper night, 
 Difcerns your blackneis by fome other senfe 
 Than that by which it doth pied colours fee. 
 Which only thererore be 
 Known by their difference ? 
 
 Tell us, when on her front in curls you lie. 
 
 So diaperM from that black eye. 
 That your refledted forms may make us know 
 That fhining light in darknefs all would find, 
 Were they not upward blind 
 With the Sun-beams below. 
 
 57 
 
SONNET OF BLACK BE JUT T. 
 
 T>LACK beauty, which above that common light, 
 •*^ Whofe Power can no colors here renew 
 But thofe which darknefs can again fubdue, 
 Deft ftill remain unvary'd to the light ? 
 
 And like an object equal to the view, 
 
 And neither chang'd with day nor hid with night. 
 When all thefe colours which the world call bright, 
 
 And which old Poetry doth (o purfue, 
 
 Are with the night fo perifhed and gone, 
 That of their being there remains no mark, 
 
 Thou IHU abided fo entirely one, 
 
 That we may know thy blacknefs is a fpark 
 
 Of light inacceffible, and alone 
 
 Our darknefs which can make us think it dark. 
 
 S8 
 
ANOTHER SONNET ro BLACK IT SELF. 
 
 ^ I ^HOU Black wherein all colours are compoPd, 
 
 A 
 
 And unto which they all at laft return ; 
 
 Thou colour of the Sun where it both burn, 
 And fhadow, where it cools ; in thee is cloPd 
 Whatever nature can, or hath difpofd 
 
 In any other here ; from thee do rife 
 Thofe tempers and complexions which difcloPd 
 
 As parts of thee, do work as myfteries 
 Of that thy hidden power; when thou doft reign 
 
 The characters of fate fhine in the Skies, 
 And tell us what the Heavens do ordain : 
 
 But when Earth's common light fhines to our eyes 
 Thou fo retir'ft thyfelf, that thy difdain 
 
 All revelation unto man denies. 
 
 59 
 
rUE FIRST MEETING, 
 
 A S fometimes with a Sable Cloud 
 We fee the Heavns bow'd, 
 And darkning all the fire, 
 Until the laboring fires they do contain 
 
 Break forth again j 
 Ev'n fo from under your black hair 
 
 I faw fuch an unufual blaze 
 Lightning and fparkling from your eyes, 
 And with unufed prodigies 
 
 Forcing fuch amaze, 
 That I did judge your empire here 
 Was not of love alone but fear. 
 
 But as all that is violent 
 
 Doth by degrees relent j 
 
 So when that fweeteft face, 
 
 Growing at laft to be ferene and clear, 
 
 Did now appear 
 With all its wonted heav'nly grace, 
 60 
 
The Firji ^VLeeting, 
 
 And your appeafed eyes did send 
 A beam from them fo foft and mild 
 That former terrors were exil'd. 
 And all that could amaze did end ; 
 Darknefs in me was chang'd to light, 
 Wonder to love, love to delight. 
 
 Nor here yet did your goodnefs ceafe 
 My heart and eyes to blefs, 
 
 For, being paft all hope 
 That 1 could now enjoy a better flate, 
 
 An orient gate 
 (As if the Heav'ns themfelves did ope) 
 Firft found in thee, and then difclof'd 
 
 So gracious and fweet a fmile. 
 That my foul ravifhed the while, 
 And wholly from itfelf unloof'd, 
 Seem'd hov'ring in your breath to rife 
 To feel an air of Paradife. 
 
 Nor here yet did your favours end, 
 
 For whilfl- I down did bend. 
 
 As one who now did mifs 
 
 A foul which grown much happier than before 
 
 Would turn no more. 
 You did beftow on me a kifs, 
 6i 
 
The Firjl ^Meeting, 
 
 And in that kifs a foul infufe 
 Which was fo fafhion'd by your mind, 
 And which was fo much more refiriM 
 
 Than that I formerly did ufe, 
 That if one foul found joys in thee, 
 The other framed them new in me. 
 
 But as thofe bodies which difpenfe 
 Their beams, in parting hence 
 Thofe beams do recollect, 
 Until they in themfelves refumed have 
 
 The forms they gave ; 
 So when your gracious afpe(Sl 
 
 From me was turned once away. 
 Neither could I thy foul retain 
 Nor you give mine leave to remain. 
 
 To make with you a longer flay, 
 Or fufFered ought elfe to appear 
 But your hair, night's hemifphere. 
 
 Only as we in Loadftones find 
 
 Virtue of fuch a kind. 
 
 That what they once do give. 
 
 Being neither to be chang'd by any Clime 
 
 Or forc'd by time, 
 Doth ever in its fubje6ts live j 
 62 
 
The Firji ^Meeting, 
 
 So though I be from you retir'd, 
 The power you gave yet ftill abides, 
 And my foul ever fo guides 
 By your magnetique touch infpir*d, 
 That all it moves, or is inclin'd, 
 Comes from the motions of your mind 
 
 63 
 
A MERRY RIME 
 
 SENT TO THE LADY WROTH UPON THE BIRTH 
 OF MT LORD OF PEMBROKE'S CHILD, 
 BORN IN THE SPRING. 
 
 TV/TADAM, though I'm one of thofe, 
 
 That every fpring ufe to compofe, 
 That Is, add feet unto round profe, 
 Yet you a further art difclofe, 
 And can, as every body knows. 
 Add to thofe feet fine dainty toes. 
 Satyrs add nails, but they are fhrews. 
 My mufe therefore no further goes, 
 But for her feet craves ibooes and hofe, 
 Let a fair feafon add a Rofe. 
 While thus attir'd we'll oppofe 
 The tragick bufkins of our foes. 
 And herewith, Madam, I will clofe. 
 And 'tis no matter how it fliuws : 
 All I care is, if the Child grows. 
 
 64 
 
rHE rnouGHT, 
 
 T F you do love as well as T, 
 
 ^ Then every minute from your heart 
 
 A thought doth part, 
 And w^inged with defire doth fly 
 Till it hath met in a ftreight line 
 
 A thought of mine, 
 So like to yours, we cannot know 
 Whether of both doth come or go, 
 
 Till we define 
 Which of us two that thought did owe. 
 
 I say then that your thoughts which pafs 
 Are not fo much the thoughts you meant 
 
 As thofe I fent, 
 For as my image in a glafs 
 Belongs not to the glafs you fee, 
 
 But unto me. 
 So when your fancy is fo clear 
 That you would think you faw me there, 
 
 It needs muft be 
 That it was I did firft appear. 
 
 65 F 
 
The Thought. 
 
 Likewife when I fend forth a thought 
 My reafoii tells me, 'tis the fame 
 
 Which from you came, 
 And which your beauteous Image wrought. 
 Thus while our thoughts by turns do lead 
 
 None can precede ; 
 And thus while in each other's mind 
 Such interchanged forms we find, 
 
 Our loves may plead 
 To be of more then vulgar kind. 
 
 May you then often think on me. 
 And by that thinking know 'tis true 
 
 I thought on you. 
 I in the fame belief will be. 
 While by this mutual addrefs 
 
 We will poffefs 
 A love muft live, when we do die. 
 Which rare and fecret property 
 
 You will confefs, 
 If you do love as well as I. 
 
 66 
 
TO A LADY WHO DIB SING 
 EXCELLENTLT, 
 
 WHEN our rude and unfafhioned words, that 
 long 
 A being in their elements enjoy 'd, 
 
 Senfelefs and void. 
 Come at laft to be formed by thy tongue. 
 And from thy breath receive that life and place. 
 
 And perfect" grace, 
 That now thy power, diffufd through all their parts^ 
 
 Are able to remove 
 All the obflruilions of the hardeft hearts, 
 And teach the moft unwilling how to love. 
 
 When they again, exalted by thy voice, 
 Tun'd by thy foul, difmiff'd into the air. 
 
 To us repair, 
 A living, moving, and harmonious noife. 
 Able to give the love they do create 
 
 A fecond ftate, 
 
 67 
 
To a Lady who did Sing excellently. 
 
 And charm not only all his griefs away. 
 
 And his defe6h reftore, 
 But make him perfect, who, the Poets fay, 
 Made all was ever yet made heretofore. 
 
 When again all thefe rare perfe6lions meet, 
 Compofed in the circle of thy face, 
 
 As in their place, 
 So to make up of all one perfect fweet. 
 Who is not then fo ravifhed with delight, 
 
 Ev'n of thy fight. 
 That he can be aflur'd his fenfe is true. 
 
 Or that he die, or live. 
 Or that he do enjoy himfelf, or you. 
 Or only the delights, which you did give ? 
 
 68 
 
MELANBER, 
 
 SUPPOSED TO LOFE SUSAN, BUT DID 
 LOVE ANN. 
 
 "f X 7HO doth prefume my Miftrefs's name to fcan 
 Goes about more than any way he can, 
 Since all men think that it is Sufan, Echo — Anne. 
 
 What fayft ? Then tell who is as white as Swan, 
 
 While others fet by her are pale and wan ; 
 
 Then, Echo, fpeak. Is it not Sufan r* Ec. — Anne. 
 
 Tell, Echo, yet, who's Middle's but a fpan, 
 Some being grofs as bucket, round as pan ? 
 Say, Echo, then. Is it not Sufan f Ec. — Anne. 
 
 Say, is fhe not foft as meal without bran ? 
 Though yet in great haft once from me fhe ran, 
 Muft I not however love Sufan P Ec. — Anne. 
 
 69 
 
ECHO ro A ROCK. 
 
 THOU heaven-threatening Rock, gentler then 
 fhe, 
 
 Since of my pain 
 Thou ftill more fenfible will be, 
 Only when thou giv'ft leave but to complain. 
 
 Echo — Complain. 
 But thou doft anfwer too, although in vain. 
 Thou anfwer'ft w^hen thou can'ft no pity fhow. 
 Echo—0]\\ 
 What, canft thou fpeak and pity too ? 
 Then yet a further favour do. 
 And tell if of my griefs I any end fhall know. 
 
 Echo — No. 
 Sure fhe will pity him that loves her fo truly. 
 
 Echo — You lie. 
 Vile Rock, thou now grow'ft fo unruly, 
 That hadft thou life, as thou haft voice. 
 Thou fhouldft die at my foot. 
 
 Echo — Die at my foot. 
 70 
 
Scho to a %ocli. 
 
 Thou canft not make me do't 
 Unlefs thou leave it to my choice, 
 Who thy hard fentence Ihall fulfill, 
 When thou fhalt fay I die to pleafe her only will. 
 
 Echo — I will. 
 When fhe comes hither, then, I pray thee, tell 
 Thou art my Monument, and this my laft farewell. 
 
 ^^;^^__Well. 
 
 71 
 
ECHO IN A CHURCH, 
 
 TX7HEN (hall my troubled foul at large 
 
 Difcharge 
 The burden of her fins, oh where ? 
 
 Echo — Here. 
 Whence comes this voice I hear ? 
 Who doth this grace afford ? 
 If it be thou, O Lord, 
 
 Say if thou hear my prayers, when I call. 
 
 Echo---A\\. 
 And wilt thou pity grant when I do cry ? 
 
 Echo—h 
 
 Then though I fall, 
 
 Thy grace will my defects fupply. 
 But who will keep my foul from ill, 
 Quench bad defires, reform my Will ? 
 Echo — I will. 
 
 72 
 
Echo in a Church, 
 
 may that Will and Voice be bleft 
 Which yields fuch comforts unto one diftreft ! 
 More bleiTed yet, would' ft thou thyfelf unmafk, 
 Or tell at leaft who undertakes this tafk. 
 
 Echo—M^, 
 
 Since now with crying I am grown fo weak, 
 
 1 fhall want force even to crave thy name. 
 O fpeak before I wholly weary am. 
 
 Echo — I am. 
 
 73 
 
rO HIS MISTRESS FOR HER TRUE 
 PICTURE. 
 
 DEATH, my life's Miftrefs, and the Sovereign Queen 
 Of all that ever breath'd, though yet unfeen, 
 My heart doth love you beft, yet I confefs, 
 Your pi6ture I beheld, vi^hich doth exprefs 
 No fuch eye-taking beauty ; you feem lean, 
 Unlefs you're mended fmce. Sure he did mean 
 No honour to you, that did draw you fo ; 
 Therefore I think it falfe. Befides, I know 
 The pi6lure Nature drew (which fure's the beft) 
 Doth figure you by fleep and fweeteft reft. 
 Sleep, Nurfe of our life. Care's beft repofer. 
 Nature's high'ft rapture, and the vifion giver. 
 Sleep, which w^hen it doth feize us, fouls go play, 
 And make Man equal as he was firft day. 
 Yet fome will fay can pictures have more life 
 Than the original ? To end this ftrife. 
 Sweet Miftrefs come, and fhew yourfelf to me 
 In your true form, while then I think to fee 
 Some beauty Angelick, that comes to unlock 
 My body's prifon, and from life unfrock 
 
 74 
 
To his SMtJirefs for her true TiBure, 
 
 My well-divorced Soul, and fet it free 
 To liberty eternal : thus you fee, 
 I find the Painter's error, and prote6t 
 Your abfent Beauties, ill drawn, by th' effect:. 
 For grant it were your work and not the Grave's, 
 Draw Love by Madnefs then, Tyrants by Slaves, 
 Becaufe they make men fuch. Dear Miftrefs, then, 
 If you would not be feen by owl-ey'd men. 
 Appear at noon i'th'Air, with fo much light 
 The Sun may be a Moon, the Day a Night, 
 Clear to my foul, but dark'ning the weak fenfe 
 Of thofe, the other World's Cimmeriens, 
 And in your fatal robe embroidered 
 With Star characters, teaching me to read 
 The deftiny of Mortals, while your clear brow 
 Prefents a Majefty, to inftru6t me how 
 To love, or dread nought elfe : May your bright hair, 
 Which are the threads of life, fair crown'd appear, 
 With that your Crown of Immortality. 
 In your right hand, the Keys of Heaven be, 
 In th' other, thofe of the Infernal Pit, 
 Whence none retires if once he enter it. 
 And here let me complain, how few are thofe 
 Whofe fouls you (hall from earth's vaft dungeon loofe 
 To endlefs happinefs ; few that attend 
 You the true guide unto their journey's end. 
 75 
 
To his S^ijlrefs for her true TiBure. 
 
 And if old Virtue's way narrow were, 
 
 'Tis rugged now, having no paflenger. 
 
 Our life is but a dark and ftormy night, 
 
 To which fenfe yields a weak and glimmering light, 
 
 While wandering Man thinks he difcerneth all 
 
 By that which makes him but miftake and fall. 
 
 He fees enough, who doth his darknefs fee. 
 
 Thefe are great lights, by which lefs dark'ned be. 
 
 Shine then Sun-bright, or through my fenfes* veil, 
 
 A day ftar of the light doth never fail. 
 
 Shew me that goodnefs which compounds the ftrife 
 
 *Twixt a long ficknefs and a weary life j 
 
 Set forth that Juftice which keeps all in awe 
 
 Certain and equal more than any Law ; 
 
 Figure that happy and eternal Reft, 
 
 Which till man do enjoy, he is not bleft j 
 
 Come and appear then, dear Soul-ravifher, 
 
 Heav'ns lighteft Uftier, Man's deliverer; 
 
 And do not think, when I new beauties fee. 
 
 They can withdraw my fettled love from thee. 
 
 Flefh-beauty ftrikes me not at all, I know : 
 
 When thou do'ft leave them to the grave, they fhow 
 
 Worfe than they now fhow thee : they fhall not move 
 
 In me the leaft part of delight, or love. 
 
 But as they teach your power. Be the nut brown, 
 
 The lovelieft colour which the flefti doth crown, 
 
 76 
 
To his fSMiJlrefs for her true ^iBure. 
 
 ril think it like a Nut — a fair outfide, 
 Within which worms and rottennefs abide ; 
 If fair, then like the Worm itfelf to be ; 
 If painted, like their flime and iluttery. 
 If any yet will think their beauties beft. 
 And will againft you, fpite of all, conteft, 
 Seize them with Age; fo in themfelves they'll hate 
 What they fcorn'd in your pi6lure, and too late 
 See their fault, and the Painter's. Yet if this. 
 Which their great'ft plague and wrinkled torture is, 
 Pleafe not, you may to the more wicked fort, 
 Or fuch as of your praifes make a fport. 
 Denounce an open war, fend chofen bands 
 Of Worms, your foldiers, to their faireft hands, 
 And make them leprous, fcabb'd : upon their face 
 Let thofe your Pioneers, Ringworms, take their place. 
 And fafely near with ftrong approaches got. 
 Intrench it round, while their teeths^ rampire rot. 
 With other Worms, nay with a damp inbred, 
 Sink to their fenfes, which they (hall not dread. 
 And thus may all that ere they prided in. 
 Confound them now. As for the parts within 
 Send great Worms, which may undermine a way 
 Into their vital parts, and fo difplay 
 That, your pale enfign on the walls ; then let 
 Thofe worms your Veterans which never yet 
 11 
 
To his SHiflrefsfor her true 'Fixture. 
 
 Did fail, enter pell-mell and ranfack all. 
 
 Juft as they fee the weli-rais'd building fall. 
 
 While they do this, your Forragers command. 
 
 The Caterpillars, to devour their land, 
 
 And with them Wafps, your wing'd-worm-horfemen, bring 
 
 To charge, in troop, thofe Rebels, with their fting. 
 
 All this, unlefs your beauty they confefs. 
 
 And now, fweet Miftrefs, let me awhile digrefs 
 To admire thefe noble Worms whom I invoke, 
 And not the Mufes. You that eat through oak 
 And bark, will you fpare Paper and my Verfe, 
 Becaufe your praifes they do here rehearfe ? 
 
 Brave Legions then, fprung from the mighty race 
 Of man corrupted, and which hold the place 
 Of his undoubted ifTue : you that are 
 Brain-born, Minerva-like, and, like her, war. 
 Well arm'd, complete, mail'd-jointed foldiers, 
 Whofe force Herculean links in pieces tears, 
 To you the vengeance of all Spill-bloods falls, 
 Beaft-eating Men, Men-eating cannibals, 
 Death privileg'd, were you in funder fmit, 
 You do not lofe your life, but double it. 
 Beft-framed types of the Immortal Soul, 
 Which in your felves, and in each part, are whole. 
 
 78 
 
To his SVLiJlrefs for her true TiBure. 
 
 Laft-living Creatures, heirs of all the earth, 
 For when all men are dead, it is your birth ; 
 When you die, your brave felf-killed General, 
 For nothing elfe can kill him, doth end all. 
 What vermine-breeding body then thinks fcorn 
 His flefh fhould be by your brave fury torn ? 
 Willing, to you, this carcafs I fubmit, 
 A gift fo free, I do not care for it, 
 Which yet you fhall not take until I fee 
 My Miftrefs firft reveal herfelf to me. 
 
 Meanw^hile, Great Miftrefs, vi^hom my foul admires. 
 
 Grant me your true pi6ture, vi^ho it defires. 
 
 That he your matchlefs beauty might maintain, 
 
 'Gainft all men that v^^ill quarrels entertain. 
 
 For a Flefh-Miftrefs, the v^^orft I can do 
 
 Is but to keep the vv^ay that leads to you, 
 
 And howfoever the event doth prove, 
 
 To have Revenge below. Reward above. 
 
 Hear, from my body's prifon, this my call. 
 
 Who from my mouth-grate and eye-window bawl. 
 
 79 
 
EPirAPH ON SIR PHILIP SIDNET, 
 
 LriNG IN ST. PAUVS WITHOUT A MONUMENT, 
 TO BE FASTENED UPON THE CHURCH DOOR. 
 
 T> EADER,— 
 
 rs. 
 
 Within this church Sir Philip Sidney lies, 
 Nor is it fit that I fhould more acquaint, 
 Left Superftition rife, 
 And men adore, 
 Soldiers, their Martyr ; Lovers, their Saint. 
 
 80 
 
EPirAFH FOR HIMSELF. 
 
 R 
 
 EADER,— 
 
 The Monument which thou beholdeft here, 
 Prefents Edward Lord Herbert to thy fight, 
 
 A man, who was fo free from either hope or fear, 
 To have, or lofe this ordinary light, 
 
 That when to elements his body turned were 
 He knew, that as thofe elements would fight, 
 
 So his Immortal Soul fhould find above 
 
 With his Creator, Peace, Joy, Faith, and Love. 
 
 8i 
 
SONNET, 
 
 ^\70\J well-compa6led groves, whofe light and fhade 
 
 Mixt equally, produce nor heat nor cold, 
 Either to burn the young, or freeze the old, 
 But to one even temper being made, 
 Upon a Grove embroidering through each glade 
 An Airy Silver, and a Sunny Gold, 
 So clothe the pooreft that they do behold 
 Themfelves in riches which can never fade. 
 While the wind whiftles, and the birds do fmg. 
 While your twigs clip, and while the leaves do frifs, 
 While the fruit ripens which thofe trunks do bring, 
 Senfelefs to all but love, do you not fpring 
 Pleafure of fuch a kind, as truly is 
 A felf renewing vegetable blifs ? 
 
 Ma^e upon the Groves near Merlou Cajlle. 
 
 82 
 
TO rHE a OF D.* 
 
 OINCE in your face, as in a beauteous fphere. 
 
 Delight and ftate fo fweetly mix'd appear, 
 That Love's not light, nor Gravity fevere, 
 All your attractive graces feem to draw, 
 A modeft rigor keepeth fo in awe, 
 That in their turns, each of them gives the law. 
 
 Therefore, though chafte and virtuous, defire 
 Through that, your native mildnefs, may afpire. 
 Until a juft regard it doft acquire ; 
 Yet if Love thence a forward hope project 
 You can, by virtue of a fweet negle6l. 
 Convert it ftreight to reverend refpe6t. 
 
 Thus, as in your rare temper, we may find 
 An excellence fo perfect in each kind. 
 That a fair body hath a fairer mind ; 
 So all the beams you diverfly do dart. 
 As well on th'underftanding as the heart. 
 Of love and honour equal caufe impart. 
 
 * PoITibly the Countefs of Denbigh, the pationefs of Carevv. 
 
 83 
 
I. 
 
 TXTTIY doft thou hate return inftead of love r 
 And with fuch mercilefs defpite 
 My faith and hope requite? 
 Oh ! if th'alFeflion cannot move, 
 Learn innocence yet of the Dove, 
 And thy difdain to jufter bounds confine. 
 Or if t'wards Man thou equally decline 
 The rules of Juftice and of Mercy too, 
 Thou may'fl: thy love to fuch a point refine 
 As it will kill more than thy hate can do. 
 
 Love, love, Melaina, then, though death enfue, 
 Yet it is a greater fate 
 To die through love than hate. 
 Rather a viflory purfue 
 To Beauty's lawful conqueft due, 
 
 84 
 
T>itty, 
 
 Than tyrant eyes envenom with difdain. 
 
 Or if thy Power thou wouldfl fo maintain 
 
 As equally to be both lov'd and dread, 
 
 Let timely Kiffes call to life again 
 
 Him whom thine eyes have Planet-ftrucken dead. 
 
 3- 
 
 Kifs, kifs, Melaina, then, and do not ftay 
 
 Until thefe fad effe6ls appear 
 
 Which now draw on fo near, 
 
 That didft thou longer help delay 
 
 My foul muft fly fo faft away 
 As would at once both life and love divorce ; 
 Or if I needs muft die without remorfe, 
 Kifs and embalm me fo with that fweet breath, 
 That while thou triumph'ft o'er Love and his force, 
 I may triumph yet over Fate and Death. 
 
 85 
 
ELECT FOR DOCTOR DUNN* 
 
 TXT" HAT though the vulgar and received praife 
 
 With which each common Poet ftrives to raife 
 His v^orthlefs Patron, feem to give the height 
 Of a true excellence, yet as the weight 
 Forced from his centre, muft again recoil. 
 So every praife, as if it took fome foil 
 Only becaufe it was not well imploy'd. 
 Turns to thofe fenfelefs principles and void, 
 Which in fome broken fyllables being vouched 
 Cannot above an Alphabet be couched, 
 In which diflolved ftate they ufed to reft 
 Until fome other in new forms inveft 
 Their eafy matter, ftriving fo to fix 
 Glory with words and make the parts to mix. 
 
 But fmce praife that wants truth, like words that want 
 
 Their proper meaning, doth it felf recant; 
 
 Such terms, however elevate and high, 
 
 Are but like meteors, which the pregnant Sky 
 
 * He will be better recognifed as Dr. John Donne. He 
 died March 31ft, 1631. 
 
 86 
 
Slegy for T)r. Dunn. 
 
 Varies in clivers figures, till at laft 
 They either be by fome dark cloud o'recaft, 
 Or wanting inward fuftence do devolve, 
 And into their firft Elements refolve. 
 Praifes, like garments then, if loofe and wide, 
 Are fubje6l to fall off; if gay and pied, 
 Make men ridiculous : The juft and grave 
 Are thofe alone which men may wear and have. 
 
 How fitting were it then each had that part 
 
 Which is their due, and that no fraudulent art 
 
 Could fo difguife the truth but they might own 
 
 Their rights, and by that property be known. 
 
 For fince Praife is publick inheritance, 
 
 If any Inter-Commoner do chance 
 
 To give or take more praife than doth belong 
 
 Unto his part, he doth fo great a wrong. 
 
 That all who claim an equal intereft 
 
 May him implead until he do deveft 
 
 His ufurpations, and again reftore 
 
 Unto the Publick what was theirs before. 
 
 Praifes fhould then, like definitions, be 
 Round, neat, convertible, fuch as agree 
 To perfons, fo that were their names conceal'd 
 Muft make them known as well as if reveal'd, 
 
 87 
 
Elegy for T)r, 'Dunn, 
 
 Such as contain the kind and difference 
 And all the properties arifing thence. 
 All praifes elfe, as more or lefs than due. 
 Will prove, or ftrangly falfe, or weakly true. 
 
 Having delivered now what praifes are, 
 
 It refts that I fhould to the world declare 
 
 Thy praifes, DUNN, whom I fo lov'd alive 
 
 That with my witty Carew I fliould ftrive 
 
 To celebrate the dead, did I not need 
 
 A language by itfelf, which fhould exceed 
 
 All thofe which are in ufe : For while I take 
 
 Thofe common words, which men may even rake 
 
 From Dunghill-wits, I find them fo defiled, 
 
 Slubbered and falfe, as if they had exiled 
 
 Truth and propriety, fuch as do tell 
 
 So little other things, they hardly fpell 
 
 Their proper meaning, and therefore unfit 
 
 To blazon forth thy merits, or thy wit. 
 
 Nor will it ferve that thou didft fo refine 
 Matter with words that both did feem divine 
 When thy breath utter'd them, for thou being gone 
 They ftreight did follow thee. Let therefore none 
 Hope to find out an Idiom and Senfe 
 Equal to thee and to thy Eminence, 
 
Elegy for T)r, T)nnn, 
 
 Unlefs our gracious King give words their bound, 
 
 Call in falfe titles which each where are found 
 
 In Profe and Verfe, and as bad Coin and Light 
 
 Supprefs them and their values, till the right 
 
 Take place and do appear, and then in lieu 
 
 Of thofe forg'd Attributes ftamp fome anew, 
 
 Which being current and by all allow'd 
 
 In Epitaphs and Tombs might be avow'd 
 
 More then their Efcucheons. Meanwhile, becaufe 
 
 Nor praife is yet confined to its laws. 
 
 Nor railing wants his proper dialedl:. 
 
 Let thy detra6l:ion thy late life detect. 
 
 And though they term all thy heat, forwardnefs. 
 
 Thy folitude, felf-pride, fafts, niggardnefs. 
 
 And on this falfe fuppofal would infer 
 
 They teach not others right, themfelves who err, 
 
 Yet as men to the ad verfe part do ply 
 
 Thofe crooked things, which they would re6tify, 
 
 So would perchance to loofe and wanton Man 
 
 Such vice avail more than their virtues can. 
 
 89 
 
THE BROWN BEAUTY, 
 
 "\T7HILE the two contraries of Black and White, 
 
 In the Brown Fay are fo well unite, 
 That they no longer now feem oppofite, 
 Who doubts but love hath this his colour chofe, 
 Since he therein doth both th'extremes compofe, 
 And as within their proper Centre clofe ? 
 
 2. 
 
 Therefore, as it prefents not to the view 
 
 That whitely raw and unconco6led hue 
 
 Which, Beauty, Northern Nations think the true. 
 
 So neither hath it that aduft afpe6l 
 
 The Moor and Indian fo much affect, 
 
 That for it they all other do rejedl. 
 
 3- 
 
 Thus while the White well fhadow'd doth appear. 
 And black doth through his luftre grow fo clear 
 That each in other equal part doth bear, 
 90 
 
"The Brown Beauty, 
 
 All in fo rare proportion is combinM 
 
 That the fair temper, which adorns her mind. 
 
 Is even to her outward form confin'd. 
 
 Fay, your fexe's honour, then fo live 
 
 That when the world fhall with contention drive 
 
 To whom they would a chief perfe6lion give, 
 
 They might the controverfy fo decide 
 
 As, quitting all extremes on either fide, 
 
 You more than any may be dignify'd. 
 
 91 
 
AN QBE 
 
 UPON A QUESTION MOVED WHETHER LOVE 
 SHOULD CONTINUE FOR EVER. 
 
 TTAVING interr'd her Infant-birth, 
 
 The wat'ry giound, that late did mourn 
 Was flrew'd with flow'rs, for the return 
 Of the wifh'd Bridegroom of the Earth. 
 
 The well-accorded Birds did fing 
 Their hymns unto the pleafant time, 
 And in a fweet conforted chime 
 
 Did welcome in the cheerful Spring. 
 
 To which, foft whiftles of the Wind, 
 And warbling murmurs of a Brook, 
 And varied notes of leaves that fhook, 
 
 An harmony of parts did bind. 
 
 While doubling joy unto each other 
 All in fo rare confent was fhown, 
 No happinefs that came alone, 
 
 Nor pleafure that was not another. 
 92 
 
^n Ode. 
 
 When with a love none can exprefs 
 
 That mutually happy pair, 
 
 Melander and Celinda fair, 
 The feafon with their loves did blefs. 
 
 Walicing thus towards a pleafant grove, 
 Which did, it feem'd, in new delight 
 The pleafures of the time unite. 
 
 They give a triumph to their love. 
 
 They ftay'd at laft and on the grafs 
 Repofed fo, as o're his breaft 
 She bow'd her gracious head to reft, 
 
 Such a weight as no burden was. 
 
 While over cither's compalT'd waift 
 Their folded arms were fo compof'd 
 As if in ftraiteft bonds inclofd, 
 
 They fufFer'd for joys they did tafte. 
 
 Long their fixt eyes to Heaven bent, 
 Unchanged they did never move. 
 As if fo great and pure a love 
 
 No glafs but it could reprefent. 
 
 When, with a fweet though troubled look. 
 She firft brake filence, faying, Dear Friend. 
 O that our love might take no end. 
 
 Or never had beginning took ! 
 93 
 
<iAn Ode. 
 
 I fpeak not this with a falfe heart 
 
 (Wherewith his hand fhe gently ftrain'd), 
 Or that would change a love maintained 
 
 With fo much faith on either part ; 
 
 Nay, I proteft ; though Death with his 
 Worft Counfel ftiould divide us here, 
 His terrors could not make me fear 
 
 To come where your lov'd prefence is. 
 
 Only, if love's fire with the breath 
 
 Of life be kindled, I doubt 
 
 With our laft air 'twill be breath'd out, 
 And quenched with the cold of death ; 
 
 That if afFe6lion be a line 
 
 Which is clof'd up in our laft hour, 
 Oh, how 'twould grieve me, any pow*r 
 
 Could force fo dear a love as mine ! 
 
 She fcarce had done, when his (hut eyes 
 
 An inward joy did reprefent 
 
 To hear Celinda thus intent 
 To a love he fo much did prize, 
 
 Then with a look, it feem'd deny'd 
 All earthly pow'r but hers, yet fo 
 As if to her breath he did owe 
 
 This borrow'd life, he thus replied : 
 94 
 
<tAn Ode. 
 
 O you, wherein, they fay. Souls reft 
 Till they defcend, pure heavenly fires, 
 Shall luftful and corrupt defires 
 
 With your immortal feed be bleft ? 
 
 And fhall our Love, fo far beyond 
 That low and dying appetite. 
 And which fo chaft defires unite, 
 
 Not hold in an eternal bond ? 
 
 It is, becaufe we fhould decline. 
 
 And wholly from our thoughts exclude 
 Obje6ls that may the fenfe delude 
 
 And ftudy only the Divine. 
 
 No fure, for if none can afcend 
 Ev'n to the vifible degree 
 Of things created, how fhould we 
 
 The invifible comprehend ? 
 
 Or rather, fmce that Pow'r expreft 
 His greatnefs in his works alone. 
 Being here beft in's Creatures known. 
 
 Why is he not lov'd in them beft ? 
 
 But is't not true, which you pretend, 
 
 That fince our love and knowledge here, 
 Only as parts of life appear, 
 
 So they with it fhould take their end ? 
 95 
 
<tA.n Ode. 
 
 O no, Belov'd, I am moft fure 
 Thofe vertuous habits we acquire 
 As being with the Soul entire 
 
 Muft with it evermore endure ; 
 
 For if, where fms and vice refide 
 We find To foul a guilt remain, 
 As never dying in his ftain 
 
 Still punifh'd in the Soul doth bide ; 
 
 Much more that true and real joy, 
 Which in a virtuous love is found 
 Muft be more folid in its ground 
 
 Then Fate or Death can e're deftroy. 
 
 Eife fliould our Souls in vain ele6t, 
 And vainer yet were Heaven's laws, 
 When to an everlafting Caufe 
 
 They gave a perifhing efFe6t. 
 
 Nor here on earth then, or above. 
 Our good affe6lion can impair. 
 For where God doth admit the fair 
 
 Think you that he excludeth Love ? 
 
 Thefe eyes again then eyes fhall fee. 
 And hands again thefe hands enfold. 
 And all chafte pleafures can be told 
 
 Shall with us everlafting be. 
 
 96 
 
aAn Ode, 
 
 For if no ufe of fenfe remain. 
 
 When bodies once this life forfake. 
 Or they could no delight partake. 
 
 Why fhould they ever rife again ? 
 
 And if every imperfe6l mind 
 
 Make love the end of knowledge here. 
 How perfect will our love be, where 
 
 All imperfe6tion is refined 1 
 
 Let then no doubt, Celinda, touch, 
 Much lefs your faireft mind invade : 
 Were not our fouls immortal made 
 Our equal loves can make them fuch. 
 
 So when one wing can make no way 
 Two joined can themfelves dilate. 
 So can two perfons propagate 
 
 When fingly either would decay. 
 
 So when from hence we fhall be gone. 
 And be no more, nor you, nor I, 
 As one another's myftery. 
 
 Each fhall be both, yet both but one. 
 
 This faid, in her uplifted face. 
 
 Her eyes, which did that beauty crown. 
 Were like two ftars, that having fall'n down. 
 
 Look up again to find their place. 
 
 97 H 
 
zAn Ode, 
 
 While fuch a movelefs filent peace 
 Did ceafe on their becalmed fenfe, 
 One would have thought fome Influence 
 
 Their ravifh'd fpirits did poflefs. 
 
 98 
 
THE GREEN^SICKNESS BEAUTT. 
 
 ' I HOUGH the pale white within your cheek 
 
 ^ compofM, 
 And doubtful light unto your eye confin'd, 
 Though your fhort breath not from it felf unlooPd, 
 And carelefs motions of your equal mind, 
 Argue your beauties are not all difclof'd, 
 
 Yet as a rifing beam, when firft 'tis (hewn, 
 Points fairer, than when it afcends more red, 
 Or as a budding rofe, when firft 'tis blown. 
 Smells fweeter far, than when it is more fpread 
 As all things beft by principles are known. 
 
 So in your green and flourifliing eftate 
 A beauty is difcern'd more worthy love 
 Than that which further doth itlelf dilate. 
 And thofe degrees of variation prove, 
 Our vulgar wits fo much do celebrate. 
 
'The Green- Sic\nefs Beauty, 
 
 Thus though your eyes dart not that piercing blaze, 
 Which doth in bufy Lovers' looks appear, 
 It is becaufe you do not need to gaze 
 On other obje6ls than your proper fphere, 
 Nor wander further than to run that maze. 
 
 So, if you want that blood which muft fucceed, 
 
 And give at laft a tincture to your fkin, 
 
 It is, becaufe neither in outward deed, 
 
 Nor inward thought, you yet admit that fm, 
 
 For which your cheeks a guilty blufh fhould need. 
 
 So if your breath do not fo freely flow. 
 It is becaufe you love not to confume 
 That vital treafure, which you do beftow 
 As well to vegetate as to perfume 
 Your Virgin leaves, as faft as they do grow. 
 
 Yet ftay not here. Love for his right will call : 
 You v/ere not born to ferve your only will, 
 Nor can your beauty be perpetual. 
 'Tis your perfeftion for to ripen ftill. 
 And to be gathered, rather than to fall. 
 
 100 
 
THE GREENES rCKNESS BEJUTT, 
 
 T?ROM thy pale look, while angry Love doth feem 
 
 With more imperioufnefs to give his Law 
 Than when he blufhingly doth beg efteem, 
 
 We may obferve pied beauty in fuch awe, 
 That the brav'ft colour under her command 
 
 Affrighted, oft before you doth retire, 
 While, like a Statue of your felf, you ftand 
 
 In fuch symmetrique form, as doth require 
 No luftre but his own : As then in vain 
 
 One fliould flefh-colouring to ftatues add, 
 So were it to your native White a Stain, 
 
 If it in other ornaments were clad. 
 Than what your rich proportions do give. 
 
 Which in a boundlefs fair being unconfin'd, 
 Exalted in your foul, fo feem to live. 
 
 That they become an emblem of your mind. 
 That fo, who to your Orient White fhould join 
 
 Thofe fading qualities moft eyes adore, 
 Were but like one, who gilding Silver Coin, 
 
 Gave but occafion to fufpedt it more. 
 
 101 
 
LA GRALLETTA GALLANrE, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE SUN-BURN'D EXOTIQUE BEAUTY. 
 
 I. 
 
 /^^HILD of the Sun, in whom his Rays appear 
 
 ^^ Hatch'd to that luftre, as doth make thee wear 
 
 Heavn's livery in thy fkin, what need'ft thou fear 
 
 The injury of Air, and change of Clime, 
 
 When thy exalted form is fo fublime 
 
 As to tranfcend all power of change or time ? 
 
 2. 
 
 How proud are they that in their hair but fliov 
 Some part of thee, thinking therein they owe 
 The greateft beauty Nature can beftow, 
 When thou art fo much fairer to the fight, 
 As beams each where diffufed are more bright 
 Than their derivM and fecondary light. 
 102 
 
La Gralletta Gallante, 
 
 3- 
 
 But Thou art cordial both to fight and tafte, 
 While each rare fruit feems in his time to hafte 
 To ripen in thee, till at length they wafte 
 Themfelves to inward fweets, from whence again, 
 They, like Elixirs, paffing through each vein, 
 An endlefs circulation do maintain. 
 
 4- 
 
 How poor are they then, whom if we but greet, 
 Think that raw juice, which in their lips we meet. 
 Enough to make us hold theii' KifFes fweet ; 
 When that rich odour, which in thee is fmelt. 
 Can it felf to a balmy liquor melt. 
 And make it to our inward fenfes felt. 
 
 5 
 Leave then thy Country, Soil, and Mother's Home, 
 Wander a Planet this way, till thou come 
 To give our Lovers here their fatal doom. 
 While, if our beauties fcorn to envy thine, 
 It will be juft they to a Jaundice pine. 
 And by thy Gold, fhow like fome Copper-Mine. 
 
 103 
 
PLATO NICK LOVE, 
 
 T\ /TADAM, your beauty and your lovely parts 
 -*-"-i- Would fcarce admit poetic praife and arts, 
 As they are Love's moft fharp and piercing darts ; 
 Though, as again they only wound and kill. 
 The more deprav'd affections of our will, 
 You claim a right to commendation ftill. 
 
 2. 
 
 For as you can unto that height refine 
 All Loves delights, as while they do incline 
 Unto no vice, they fo become divine. 
 We may as well attain your excellence, 
 As, without help of any outward fenfe 
 Would make us grow a pure Intelligence. 
 104 
 
^latonic\ Love. 
 
 3- 
 
 And as a Soul, thus being quite abftra6l, 
 Complies not properly with any a6t, 
 Which from its better Being may detract. 
 So, through the virtuous habits which you infufe 
 It is enough that we may like and choofe, 
 Without prefuming yet to take or ufe. 
 
 4- 
 Thus Angels in their flarry Orbs proceed 
 Unto Affection, without other need 
 Than that they ftill on contemplation feed, 
 Though as they may unto this Orb defcend, 
 You can, when you would fo much lower bend, 
 Give Joys beyond what Man can comprehend. 
 
 5. 
 Do not refufe, then Madam, to appear, 
 Since every radiant Beam comes from your Sphere, 
 Can fo much more than any elfe endear, 
 As while through them we do difcern each Grace 
 The multiplied lights from every Place, 
 Will turn and circle, with their rays, your face. 
 
 105 
 
PL Arc NICK LOVE, 
 
 I. 
 
 1\ /TADAM, believe 't, Love is not fuch a toy, 
 
 -*^ -*■ As it is fport but for the Idle Boy, 
 
 Or vi^anton Youth, fince it can entertain 
 
 Our ferious thoughts, and make us know how vain 
 
 All time is fpent we do not thus imploy. 
 
 For though ftrong paffion oft on youth doth feize 
 It is not yet affection, but difeafe ; 
 Caufed from repletion, which their blood doth vex, 
 So that they love not Woman, but the Sex, 
 And care no more than how themfelves to pleafe. 
 
 Whereas true Lovers check that appetite 
 Which would prefume further than to invite 
 The Soul unto that part it ought to take. 
 When that from this addrefs it would but make 
 Some introdu6tion only to delight. 
 1 06 
 
Vlatonicli Love. 
 
 4. 
 
 For while they from the outward fenfe tranfplant 
 The love grew there in earthly mould, and fcant, 
 To the Soul's fpacious and immortal field, 
 They fpring a love eternal, which will yield 
 All that a pure afFe(5tion can grant. 
 
 5- 
 
 Befides, what time or diftance might efFeft 
 
 Is thus remov'd, while they themfelves conne6t 
 
 So far above all change, as to exclude 
 
 Not only all which might their fenfe delude. 
 
 But mind to any obje6l elfe effe6t. 
 
 6. 
 Nor will the proof of Conftancy be hard 
 When they have plac'd upon their Mind that guard 
 As no ignoble thought can enter there, 
 And Love doth fuch a Virtue perfevere, 
 And in it felf fo find a juft reward. 
 
 7- 
 And thus a love, made from a worthy choice. 
 
 Will to that union come, as but one voice. 
 
 Shall fpeak, one thought but think the other^s will. 
 
 And while, but frailty, they can know no ill, 
 
 Their fouls more than their bodies muft rejoice. 
 
 107 
 
^latonic\ Love, 
 
 8. 
 
 In which eftate nothing can fo fulfill 
 Thofe heights of pleafure, which their fouls inftill 
 Unto each other, but that love thence draws 
 New Arguments of joy, while the fame caufe 
 That makes them happy, makes them greater ftill. 
 
 9- 
 
 So that however multiplied and vaft 
 Their love increafe, they will not think it paft 
 The bounds of growth, till their exalted fire 
 Being equally inlarg'd with their defire, 
 Transform and fix them to one Star at laft. 
 
 10. 
 
 Or when that otherwife they were inclin'd 
 Unto thofe publick joys, which are affign'd 
 To blelfed Souls when they depart from hence, 
 They would, befides what Heaven doth difpenfe, 
 Have their contents they in each other find. 
 
 io8 
 
rHE WE J, 
 
 MADE OF ALNWICK IN HIS EXPEDITION TO 
 SCOTLAND WITH THE ARMT, 1639. 
 
 A LL Beauties vulgar eyes on earth do fee. 
 At beft but fome Imperfect Copies be 
 Of thofe the Heavens did at iirft decree ; 
 
 For though th' Ideas of each fevVal kind 
 Conceiv'd above by the Eternal Mind 
 Are fuch, as none can error in them find. 
 
 Since from his thoughts and prefence he doth bar 
 And fhut out all deformity fo far, 
 That the leaft beauty near him is a Star. 
 
 As Nature yet from far th' Ideas views. 
 And doth befides but vile materials choofe. 
 We in her v^orks obferve no fmall abufe. 
 
 Some of her figures therefore foil'd and blurr*d. 
 Show as if Heaven had no way concurr'd 
 In fhapes fo difproportion'd and abfurd. 
 109 
 
The Idea, 
 
 Which being again vex'd with fome hate and fpite 
 That doth in them vengeance and rage excite. 
 Seem to be tortur'd and deformed quite. 
 
 While fo being fixt, they yet in them contain 
 Another fort of ughnefs and ftain. 
 Being with old wrinkles interlin'd again. 
 
 Laftly, as if Nature ev'n did not know 
 What colour every fev'rai part fhould owe. 
 They look as if their Galls would overflow. 
 
 Fair is the Mark of Good, and Foul, of ill, 
 
 Although not fo infallibly, but ftill 
 
 The proof depends moft on the mind and will. 
 
 As Good yet rarely in the Foul is met. 
 So 'twould as little by its union get. 
 As a rich Jewel that were poorly fet. 
 
 For fmce Good firft did at the Fair begin. 
 Foul being but a punifhment for fm, 
 Fair's the true outfide to the Good within. 
 
 In thefe the Supreme Pow'r then fo doth guide 
 Nature's weak hand, as he doth add befide 
 All by which Creatures can be dignified, 
 HO 
 
The Idea, 
 
 While you in them fee fo exa6l a line, 
 
 That through each fev'ral parts a glimpfe doth fhine 
 
 Of their original and form divine. 
 
 Therefore the charadlers of fair and good 
 Are fo fet forth, and printed in their blood. 
 As each in other may be underftood. 
 
 That Beauty fo accompanied with Grace, 
 
 And equally confpicuous in the face, 
 
 In a fair Woman's outfide takes the place. 
 
 Thus while in her all rare perfedtion meets. 
 Each, as with Joy, its fellow beauty greets. 
 And varies fo into a thoufand fweets. 
 
 Or if fome tempting thought do fo aflault 
 As doubtful ihe 'twixt two opinions halt, 
 A gentle blufh corrects and mends the fault. 
 
 That fo fhe flill fairer, and better grows, 
 Without that thus ihe more to paffion owes 
 Than what frefh colour on her cheeks beftows. 
 
 To which again her lips fuch helps can add 
 As both will chafe all grievous thoughts and fad. 
 And give what elfe can make her good or glad. 
 Ill 
 
The Idea, 
 
 As Statuaries, yet having fram'd in Clay 
 
 An hollow image, afterwards convey 
 
 The molten metal through each feveral way, 
 
 But when it once unto its place hath pad, 
 And th' inward Statua perfectly is caft. 
 Do throw away the outward Clay at laft. 
 
 So when that form the Heavns at firft decreed 
 
 Is finifhed within, Souls do not need 
 
 Their Bodies more, but would from them be freed. 
 
 For who ftill cover'd with their earth would lie? 
 Who would not fhake their fetters off and fly, 
 And be at leaft, next to a Deity ? 
 
 However then you be moft lovely here. 
 Yet, when you from all Elements are clear, 
 You far more pure and glorious fhall appear. 
 
 Thus from above I doubt not to behold 
 Your fecond felf renew'd in your own mold, 
 And rifing thence fairer then can be told. 
 
 From whence afcending to the ElecSl and Bleft 
 In your true Joys you will not find it leaft 
 That I in Heav'n fhall know, and love you beft. 
 112 
 
The Idea, 
 
 For while I do your coming there attend, 
 I fhall much time on your Idea fpend, 
 And note how far you all others tranfcend. 
 
 And thus, though you more than an angel be. 
 Since being here to Sin and Mifchief free, 
 You will have raif'd your felf to their degree. 
 
 That fo, vi6lorious over Death and Fate, 
 And happy in your everlafting ftate, 
 You {hall triumphant enter Heaven gate. 
 
 Haften not thither yet, for as you are 
 
 A Beauty upon Earth without compare. 
 
 You will {hew befl ftill where you are mo{l rare. 
 
 Live all our lives then ; If the picture can 
 
 Here entertain a loving abfent Man, 
 
 Much more the Idea whence you fir{l began. 
 
 113 
 
PLArONICK LOVE. 
 
 "T^ISCONSOLATE and fad, 
 -^^ So little hope of remedy I find 
 That when my matchlefs Miftrefs were inclin'd 
 To pity me, 'twould fcarcely make me glad, 
 The difcompofing of fo fair a mind 
 Being that which would to my Aitiidlions d!tld. 
 
 For when fhe fhould repent, 
 This A6^ of Charity had made her part 
 With fuch a precious Jewel as her Heart, 
 Might {he not grieve that e'er fhe did relent ? 
 And then were it fit I felt the fmart 
 Until I grew the greatefi: penitent. 
 
 Nor were't a good excufe. 
 When fhe pleaf'd to call for her Heart again, 
 To tell her of my fuffering and pain. 
 Since that I fhould her Clemency abufe. 
 While fhe did fee what wrong fhe did fuflain. 
 In giving what fhe juftly might refufe. 
 114 
 
^latonic\ Love, 
 
 Vex'd thus with me at laft, 
 When from her kind reftraint fhe now were gone, 
 And I left to the Manacles alone, 
 Should I not on another Rock be caft ? 
 Since they who have not yet content, do moan 
 Far lefs than they whofe hope thereof is paft ? 
 
 Befides I would deferve. 
 And not live poorly on the aims of Love, 
 Or claim a favour did not fingly move 
 From my regard : if fhe her joys referve 
 Unto fome other, fhe at length fhould prove. 
 Rather than beg her pity I would flarve. 
 
 Let her then be ferene. 
 Alike exempt from pity and from hate, 
 Let her flill keep her dignity and flate, 
 Yet from her glories fomething I fhall gkan. 
 For when fhe doth them everywhere dilate 
 A beam or two to me muft intervene. 
 
 And this fhall me fuftain, 
 For though due merit I cannot exprefs. 
 Yet fhe fhall know none ever lov'd for lefs 
 Or eafier reward. Let her remain 
 Still great and good, and from her Happinefs 
 My chief contentment I will entertain. 
 
 115 
 
^latontc\ Love, 
 
 Reftrained hopes, though you dare not afpire 
 To fly an even pitch with my defire, 
 Yet fall no lower, and at leaft take heed 
 That you no way unto defpair proceed. 
 Since in what form fo'er you keep entire 
 I fhall the lefs all other comforts need. 
 
 I know how much prefumption did tranfcend. 
 When that affe6tion could at moft pretend 
 To be believ'd, would needs yet higher foar 
 And love a Beauty which I fhould adore. 
 Though yet therein I had no other end, 
 But to affure that none could love her more„ 
 
 Only may £he not think her beauty lefs 
 That on low objeds it doth ftill exprefs 
 An equal force, while it doth rule all hearts 
 Alike in the remot'ft as neareft parts. 
 Since if it did at any diftance ceafe 
 It wanted of that pow'r it fhould impart. 
 
 Small earthly lights but to fome fpace extend. 
 And then unto the dim and dark do tend. 
 And common heat doth at fome length fo ftop 
 That it cannot fo much as warm one drop, 
 While light and heat that doth from Heav'n defcend 
 Warms the low Valley more than the Mountain top. 
 n6 
 
^latonicX hove. 
 
 Nor do they always beft of the Heav'ns deferve, 
 
 Who gaze on't moft, but they who do referve 
 
 Themfelves to know it, fince not all that will 
 
 Climb up into a Steeple or a Hill 
 
 So well its pow'r and influence obferve, 
 
 As they who ftudy and remark it ftill. 
 
 Would fhe then in full glory on me fhine, 
 
 An Image of that Light which is divine, 
 
 I then fhould fee more clear, while fhe did draw 
 
 Me upwards, and the vapors twixt us awe. 
 
 To open her eyes, were to open mine, 
 
 And teach her wonders which I never faw. 
 
 Nor would there thus be any caufe to fear. 
 That while her pow'r attractive drew me near, 
 The odds betwixt us would the lefTer (how. 
 Since the moft common Underftandings know 
 That inequalities ftill moft appear. 
 When brought together and compofed fo. 
 
 As there is nothing yet doth fo excell. 
 But there is found, if not its parallel, 
 Yet fomething fo conform, as though far leaft 
 May yet obtain therein an Intereft, 
 Why may not faith and truth then join fo well 
 As they may fuit her rare perfections beft ? 
 117 
 
^latonic\ Love, 
 
 Then, hope, fuflain thy felf ; though thou art hid 
 
 Thou liveft ftill, and muft till fhe forbid ; 
 
 For when fhe would my vows and love reje6i:, 
 
 They would a Being in themfelves project, 
 
 Since infinites as they, yet never did, 
 
 Nor could conclude without fome good efFe6l. 
 
 1 18 
 
A MEDIATION 
 UPON HIS WAX-CANDLE BURNING OUT. 
 
 XX 7HILE thy ambitious flame doth ftrive for height, 
 ^ ^ Yet burneth down as clogged with the weight 
 
 Of earthly parts, to which thou art combinM, 
 Thou ftill doft grow more fhort of thy defire. 
 And doft in vain unto that place afpire 
 
 To which thy native powers feem inclin'd. 
 
 Yet when at laft thou com'ft to be diflblv'd, 
 And to thy proper principles refolv'd, 
 
 And all that made thee now is difcompofd, 
 Though all thy terreftrial part in allies lies. 
 Thy more fublime to higher Regions flies. 
 
 The refl being to the middle ways expof'd. 
 
 And while thou doeft thy felf each where difperfe 
 Some parts of thee make up this Univerfe, 
 
 Others a kind of dignity obtain, 
 Since thy pure Wax, in its own flame confumM, 
 Volumes of incenfe sends, in which perfum'd 
 
 Thy fmoak mounts where thy fire could not attain. 
 119 
 
<tA ^Vleditation, 
 
 More more our Souls then, when they go from hence, 
 And back unto the Elements difpenfe, 
 
 All that built up our frail and earthly frame 
 Shall through each pore and paflage make their breach, 
 Till they with all their faculties do reach 
 
 Unto that place from whence at firft they came. 
 
 Nor need they fear thus to be thought unkind 
 To thofe poor Carcafes they leave behind, 
 
 Since being in unequal parts commixM 
 Each in his Element their place will get ; 
 And who thought Elements unhappy yet 
 
 As long as they were in their ftations fix'd ? 
 
 Or if they fally forth, is there not light 
 And heat in fome, and fpirit prone to fight ? 
 
 Keep they not in Earth and Air the field ? 
 Befides, have they not pow'r to generate 
 When more than Meteors they Stars* create, 
 
 Which while they laft, fcarce to the brighteft yield ? 
 
 That fo in them we more than once may live. 
 While thefe materials which here did give 
 
 Our bodies eflence, and are moft of ufe, 
 Quick'ned again by the world's common foul. 
 Which in it felf and in each part is whole, 
 
 Can various forms in divers kinds produce. 
 
 * In the Conftellation of Caffiopeia, 1572. 
 120 
 
<iA ^Meditation. 
 
 If, then, at worft, this our condition be 
 When to themfelves the Elements are free. 
 
 And each doth to its proper place revert, 
 What may we not hope from our part divine 
 Which can this drofs of Elements refine 
 
 And them unto a better ftate afTert? 
 
 Or if as clods upon this earthly ftage. 
 Which reprefents nothing but change or age, 
 
 Our fouls would all their burdens here diveft, 
 They fingly may that glorious ftate acquire. 
 Which fills alone their infinite defire 
 
 To be of perfe6t happinefs pofleft. 
 
 And therefore I who do not live and move 
 By outward fenfe fo much as faith and love, 
 
 Which is not in inferior Creatures found, 
 May unto fome immortal ftate pretend,. 
 Since by thefe wings I thither may afcend 
 
 Where faithful loving Souls with joys are crown'd 
 
 121 
 
OCTOBER 14, 1664. 
 
 T? NRAGING Griefs, though you moft divers be, 
 ■"'^ In your flrft caufcs you may yet agree 
 To take an equal fhare within my heart, 
 Since, if each grief ftrive for the greateft part, 
 You needs muft vex yourfelves as w^ell as me. 
 
 For your own fakes and mine then make an end. 
 In vain you do about a Heart contend, 
 Which, though it feem in greatnefs to dilate, 
 Is but a tumor, which in this its ftate 
 The choiceft remedies would but offend. 
 
 Then ftorm't at once. I neither feel conftraint. 
 Scorning your worft, nor fuffer any taint, 
 Dying by multitudes, though if you flrive, 
 I fear my heart may thus be kept alive. 
 Until it under its own burden faint. 
 122 
 
OBober 14, 1664. 
 
 What is't not done ? Why then my God, I find, 
 Would have me ufe you to reform my mind, 
 Since through his help I may from you extra6t 
 An eflence pure, fo fpriteful and compaft 
 As it will be from groiTer parts refin'd. 
 
 Which being again converted by his grace 
 To godly forrow, I may both efface 
 Thofe fms firft cauf'd you, and together have 
 Your pow'r to kill turn'd to a pow'r to fave, 
 And bring my Soul to its defired place. 
 
 i?3 
 
IN STATU AM LIGNEAM OVERBURIL 
 
 /^^ERNIS Overburi, non sere aut marmore, vultum 
 ^"^^ Sed Ligno Hiberno die, age, nonne placet ? 
 
 s:^ASk;2iS^ 
 
 BE C, BE S. 
 
 TJTJEC anima, ut fuerit terrena libera mole, 
 •*■ Venerit et fummo confpicienda Deo, 
 
 Talibus et tantis vitiis fpurcata, trahetur, 
 
 Haud dubium, ad poenam fuppHciumque grave. 
 Viderit : at pulchrum dabitur cum fumere corpus, 
 
 Eximium, credo, perdere nollet opus. 
 
 124 
 
EPITJPHIUM IN ANAGRAMMA NOMINIS SUI, 
 
 REDDOR Ur HERBJE. 
 
 OUAS turgens flos mane decet, quas aruit omnes 
 Una dies, quas morte cita, nova vita fequetur, 
 Non unquam moritura tamen, fic Reddor ut Herhce, 
 
 EPirAPH, 
 
 IN SE ROMyE FACTUM 1615. 
 
 T TEROS ceu varios populi ridere timores 
 
 ^ Expertus, vitae melioris confcius, intus 
 Plaudebam, expe(Sl:ans faceret dum fabula finem. 
 
 125 
 
IN rUMULUM DOMINI FRJNCISCI 
 VERE. 
 
 A NGUSTUS nimis eft lapis pufillus, 
 •^ Vel, totum, foret ipfa terra, marmor ; 
 
 Angufta et fpolia et Trophaea ficfta, 
 Haec Belgae tulerant, vel ilia Iberi. 
 Cun6ta angufta nimis videntur illi, 
 Qui vi6lor toties mori volebat, 
 In fe poft alios, agens triumphum, 
 Ut dignum tumulum, Trophaea digna 
 Uni nil poterit referre vero. 
 Ni forte, ut maneat perenne nomen 
 Cui mundus fpolia, et caro triumphus, 
 Caelum fit Tumulus, Trophcea ftellae. 
 
 126 
 
IN DIEM NJrALiriUM, 
 
 VIZ. 3 MAR. 
 
 T 7ERE novo lux ufque redit qua nafcor, at una 
 
 Dum tempus redit, et fit numerofa dies, 
 Ver olim vires renovans, roburque recondens 
 iEtas fit tandem, triflis hyemfque mihi. 
 
 FOR A DIAL. 
 
 T^ISCURRENS dubiae, placidus compendia vitas, 
 "^"^ Excipiens tacito gaudia tuta fmu, 
 Praeteritis laetare bonis, nee faeva futuri 
 Exagitet miferos cura premave dies. 
 
 Omnis in adverfum ruit hora, volatque retrorfum 
 Et velut exhorrens jam peritura fugit. 
 
 Dum numerans delet, dumque addens fubtrahit, ilia. 
 Quae vita; ratio, calculus atque tuae. 
 
 127 
 
IN ANSWER TO THE VERSES OF GUIET 
 
 FOR THE PUCELLE D'ORLEJNS, QUASI 
 
 EXTEMPORE. 
 
 OUOD nequiere viri, potuit fi foemina, quid ni 
 Galle, fores tandem tu muliere minor ? 
 Define, Galle, tuam tandem ja6tare Bubulcam, 
 
 Seu Medaea fuit, five Medufa fuit. 
 Si canit ad Bellum, tamen eft Medaea vocanda, 
 
 Carmina dum rauco concinit ilia fono. 
 Hoftes fi caefi, tamen eft dicenda Medufa, 
 
 Dum nimis ad diras virginis era rigent. 
 Virgo fit tandem fed qualem nollet adulter, 
 
 Seu Medaea fuit, five Medufa fuit. 
 Definat ergo fuam Gallus jadtare yohannam^ 
 
 Saltern plena fuo non erit ilia Deo. 
 Plena fuo vel nulla datur, vel Papa yohanna^ 
 
 Numine j fit virgo quam licet ilia minus. 
 
 128 
 
IN ANSTFER TO TILENUS 
 
 WHEN 1 HAD THAT FATAL DEFLUXION 
 IN Mr HAND. 
 
 OUI poffim Phoebum fuccenfum credere r 
 Laudes 
 Quum facit ut fcribas, Do6te Tilene, meas. 
 Providus atque manum confulto furripit iftam 
 Ut melius poflem nunc fupereffe tua. 
 
 DE HUGONE GROriO, 
 
 ARC J INCLUSO ET A CARCERE LIBERATO. 
 
 ^^^ ARCERE dum Career villus, Tenebrifque Tenebrae 
 ^^ Vinclis cum demum vincla foluta tibi 
 
 Profiliens media tandem de mole, videris 
 Quidquid mortale eft, depofuilTe fimul. 
 
 129 
 
PRO LAUREA'TO ROETA. 
 
 A T quorfum Juvenis, fi nullo limine claufus, 
 Immiftus canibus, faltuque vagatus in omni 
 Praecipites crebris damas latratibus urgens 
 Excurrit, fecumque nihil non perdere tentat ? 
 An mage grata viri tandem maturior aetas ? 
 Qui furiis agitatus, atrox, atque omine trifti 
 Horrida funeftis meditatur prslia campis ? I 
 In propriam fpeciemque ruens ita fanguine gaudet 
 Coni'efTus iatis, ut nullus fibi concidat hoftis. 
 Is potiorne domi qui futilis ambit honorem, 
 Inque leves populi gyros proclivis et auram, 
 Mercatur voces, falfaque cupidine traclus, 
 Incertam dubii feilatur nominis umbram ? 
 Heu fugias qui te fugiunt, et ferre recufant 
 Imperium fafcefque tuos, quibus undique fauftis 
 Candida fupremos defignant colla triumphos. 
 Sed ne nulla tibi demum vi6loria conftet, 
 En praedam, formofa, tuam, quam porrigit herba, 
 Et genua ample6lens, i^it ultro dedere vi6tam 
 Teftatur, lauroque fua tua ternpora cingit. 
 130 
 
'T^ro Laureate Toeta, 
 
 Nee canos caufere meos (qui fymbola certa 
 Sunt fidei), tanta folitum ilammave tremorem, 
 Immo nee errones tanquam, fed lumina fixa 
 Contemplare oculos tandem, neque bafta fpernas 
 Floridus ut defit color ori, fervat odorem, 
 iEmula paftillis fpirabunt labra rofatis 
 Bafia, mellito et fe lingua madore refolvet. 
 Denique feu noflro latitet nova pruna colore, 
 Niftet et implexus torvo fub lumine cautus 
 Arcitenens, mortis tandem feu fcena futuras 
 Prodierim, vitam nobis dum dura negaris ; 
 Ah ! reddas faltem, nondum fatis arfit Amon m, 
 Cui fenium tempusve fidem cui praeripit ullum. 
 
 ^31 
 
AD SERENISS. REGEM GUSTAVUM, 
 A.D. 1631. 
 
 "PER varios terrae traclus & diffita Regna, 
 
 Inclyte Suedorum princeps, dum caftra movere 
 Conftituis, pacemque pio decernere bello, 
 Quae te fecurum probitas, prudentia fortem, 
 Felicem virtus prasftat, non omine vano 
 Fecit, ut antiquum Germania libera nomen 
 Accipiens rurfus fe jufto vindice tandem 
 Gaudeat, inque tuos fuccedat fponte triumphos. 
 Scilicet hoc potuit tua dextera fortis & ultrix, 
 Igneus atque vigor bello famiatus, & enfis 
 Quo ftridlo late rutilanteque, fulgidus hoftes 
 Irruis in medios, denfam paffimque caternam 
 Difcutis, & longe percellis quaeque timore, 
 Ut tibi nee fumi nubes glomerata, nee imo 
 Excuffus pulvis, pila nee confertior inftans 
 Obfcurare tuos validos, vel fle6i:ere, grefTus 
 Poflint, e multo quin numine flamma corufcans 
 Perftringenfque oculos, infultus reddat inanes 
 132 
 
^Ad Serentfs, %egem Gujiavum. 
 
 Militis, innocuofque idlus, ac irrita tela, 
 Dum tibi Juftratae caecae patuere tenebrae, 
 Inque tuam lucem caligo cedere vifa eft. 
 Inde citata tuum fequitur vi6toria curfum, 
 Inque gradus hasret certos figitque trophaea, 
 Aufpiciifque tuis illuftrior explicat alas ; 
 Queis furfum ve61:o, fuperas invifere fedes, 
 Inque novum tandem liceat tibi fidus abire 
 Clarius Ar6turi, et fufcae jubar addere luci. 
 
 133 
 
EURTALE MCE R ENS, 
 
 T^EPRESStE valles piceis irrigus fontibus, 
 •*~^ Herbae marcid^, caeca praetexentes Barathra, 
 Mallgni colles hirfutis vepribus obfiti, 
 Afpera montlum juga, exefis hiuica fpecubus, 
 Defrugatarum fegetum late patentia ^quora, 
 Inviia Soli antj:a, confragofa praecipltia, 
 Abruptarum cautium nutantia undique cacumina, 
 Pendulae taxi, cupreffis fuccrefcentes feralibus, 
 Spelseorum inferna ducentium horrores facri, 
 Infauftae ftryges, bubulantia ftygiae avis omina, 
 Rauci ftridores, torvorum colia anguium fibila, 
 Prodigialium monftrorum exerta paffim capita, 
 Afpectus truces fiderum, diri portenta astheris, 
 Vofque gementes umbne, hie teftari liceat, 
 Nihil ufpiam fuiile Euryale triftius. 
 
 1632 
 
 ^34 
 
MENS A LUSORIA; 
 
 OR, A SHOVEL'BOARD-TABLE TO MR. MASTERS 
 
 ROBORIS excelfi tabulatum fternitur ingens, 
 T^quore produ6lum levi, quod tramite redo 
 Procurrens, tandem qua fe fubducit in imum 
 DifTecat exills tranrverfim linea, fcena 
 Unde patet ludi, commiffo margine claufa, 
 Qui bini ternive notam certantibus aptat 
 Figitur extremo, feu prefTus limite jacSlus, 
 Seu tremulus nutat, fibl nee conftare videtur. 
 Hie ubi conveniunt lufores, quifque monetam 
 Ar2;ento cufam, difci formaque nitentem 
 Librat in adverfam, qua ducitur orbita, partem 
 Perpetuo ja6tu, fed quie, fi forte feratur 
 Plus jufto, cadit in foveam, quae limine fummo 
 Cernitur, at citra feptum fi tarda fatifcit, 
 Rejicitur jaclus, totus fit & irritus inde. 
 Aft intra juftam datur ut confiflere metam 
 Promovet hie jaftum, promotum dimovet ille. 
 Adjicit hie alium, fed quern depellere tentat 
 Nonnullus ; Nummos hie obfidet, impetit ille, 
 Oblique Curfu : Multa cadit ifte ruina, 
 Dum complexa fuo funduntur fingula nexu, 
 Et variata vices rerum fors undique verfat. 
 Ludere fic liceat manibus, fic ludere mufa, 
 A ftudiis feffi quum jam deceffimus ambo. 
 
 * Thomas Mafter, <' efteemed," fays Anthony Wood, "as a vast scholar, 
 a general artift and linguift, a noted poet, and a moft florid preacher," was a 
 fenior ftudent of Chrift Church. He affifted Herbert in collecting materials 
 for the Hifiory of Henry Vlll. He died in 1643. 
 
CHJRISSIMO, DOCTISSIMO, 
 yUCUNDISSIMOQUE JVXTIM AMICO 
 
 thomjE master. 
 
 Hoc Epitaph. mcere?is P. C. E. B. Herbert de Cher bury ^ 1643. 
 
 OUI fis vel fueras, A mate Mafter, 
 LecStorem fatis haec docere pofTunt ; — 
 
 Quod terris fuit ut molefta vita, 
 
 Te dempto, mage fit molefta longe. 
 
 Quod Coelum fuit ut beata fedes, 
 
 Au6lum te, mage fit beata fedes. 
 
 In terris quid agis fide vacillans ? 
 
 Si vita probus es, fruere, Ledtor, 
 
 Coelo jam folito beatiore, 
 
 Mafter jam reliquis alacriore. 
 Vivat in aeternum virtus ac diffita terras 
 Luftret, ubique gravi fub Religione refurgens. 
 
 136 
 
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