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 SECULAR POEMS BY HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 Five Jiiindred copies only of this small paper 
 (Foolscap 8vo.) edition of Secular Poems by 
 Henry Vaughan have been priiited.
 
 When I am laid to rest hard by thy streams. 
 
 And my sun sets, zvherc first it sprang in beams, 
 ril leave behind me such a large, hind light. 
 As shall redeem thee from oblivious night. 
 And in these vows which — living yet — I pay. 
 Shed such a pervious and enduring ray. 
 As shall from age to age thy fair name lead. 
 Till rivers leave to run, and men to read. 
 
 — To THE River Use a.
 
 Secular Poems 
 
 BY 
 
 Henry Vaughan, 
 
 SILURIST; 
 
 INCLUDING A FEW PIECES BY HIS 
 TWIN-BROTHER THOMAS 
 
 (" EUGENIUS Philalethes.") 
 
 Selected and arranged^ with Notes and Bibliography, 
 
 BY 
 
 J. R. TUTIN, 
 
 Editor of " Poems of Richard Craskaw" etc. 
 
 
 HULL 
 
 J. R. TUTIN. 
 
 1893.
 
 HUM. : 
 WII.l.lAM ANDREWS AND CO., THE HULL PRESS
 
 'X> 
 
 pre, 
 
 TS8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 During the last few years there has been a 
 revived interest in the works of our elder poets ; 
 more especially of those of the Elizabethan age, 
 and the age immediately succeeding it. This 
 interest has been brought about chiefly, pro- 
 bably, by the excellently edited reprints of such 
 authors as Sidney, Raleigh, Marlowe, Herrick, 
 and others. 
 
 When, in 1847, the Rev. H. F. Lyte edited, 
 for the Aldine Poets, the Sacred Poems of 
 Henry Vaughan, Silurist, they had lain almost 
 dead for the long period of nearly two hundred 
 years. Nineteenth century lovers of the verse 
 of this deep-thoughted and true poet, are there- 
 fore indebted to Lyte for his careful reprint of 
 those poems. Vaughan is chiefly known and 
 appreciated as a religious poet ; and it may be 
 unknown to many of his admirers that he was 
 the author of a substantial amount of secular 
 verse, which, though not on the whole equalling 
 in value his sacred productions, is, in part, of 
 excellent quality, and at its best equalling the 
 finest of the " Sacred " verses. 
 
 To disengage these superior " Secular " pieces 
 from the less valuable ones of their class has 
 been the aim of the editor in preparing this 
 
 48 
 
 
 ^^^O. S^.«. _.9y^\>^^
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 volume, and he trusts that the results of his labour 
 may meet a want among lovers of the literature 
 of the seventeenth century. That the pieces 
 here presented are worthy of a place beside 
 Vaughan's Sacred Poems he has the utmost 
 confidence in asserting. That there has been 
 no reprint of these characteristic pieces in a 
 handy and inexpensive form has been some- 
 what a matter of surprise to him. An edition 
 of our worthy's complete poetical works should 
 now meet with general acceptance among lovers 
 of his Sacred Poems. 
 
 Vaughan is generally classed with the school 
 of George Herbert, and the general impression 
 appears to be that he is inferior to the sweet 
 singer of The Temple. iVny one who will 
 spend a little time in a careful study of Silex 
 Sciiitillans, as well as of the pieces in the 
 present publication, will, I venture to think, 
 come to the conclusion that the Silurist shews 
 a greater variety of subject, with some of the 
 higher poetic qualities in excess of those shewn 
 by the pious Herbert. He was certainly a 
 greater lover and interpreter of Nature, and may 
 not inaptly be called the Wordsworth of the 
 seventeenth century. He is not always the ail- 
 but perfect artist that Herbert is (Vaughan has 
 scarcely left a flawless poem), but he is certainly 
 the greater in fine lines and phrases. A perusal 
 of such pieces as The Eagle, T^o the River Usca, 
 The Charnel House, To his Retired Friend, To 
 the Best and Most Accomplished Couple, An 
 Epitaph iipo?-; the Lady Elizabeth, and The 
 Golden Age (a translation), will at least convince 
 the reader of his various powers, and breadth of 
 poetic range, in the field of his secular verse. His
 
 PREFACE. VU 
 
 form may nearly always be said to be in 
 keeping with his subject. His faults are those 
 of his age. Says Lyte, speaking of the poems 
 constituting Vaughan's Silex Scintillans, '* Pre- 
 serving all the piety of George Herbert, they 
 have less of his quaint and fantastic turns, with 
 a much larger infusion of poetic feeling and 
 expression." A portion of this discriminating 
 praise applies also to the non-sacred pieces. 
 
 Those readers who wish to study the literature 
 of this subject we would refer to the essays 
 by Dr. John Brown {Locke and Sydenham), Dr. 
 George Macdonald (England's Aniiphon), Rev. 
 Dr. Grosart ( Works of Vai/ghan), Principal 
 Shairp (Sketches in History and Poetry), and 
 Professor F. T. Palgrave ( V Cyninirodor, Vol. 
 XL j. Biographical details may be read in the 
 "Aldine" edition of the "Saered" Poems, 
 and in Grosart's privately-printed edition of 
 Vaughan's entire Works. 
 
 To the last named edition of Henry Vaughan 
 I am much indebted. Without it, it would have ^ 
 been almost impossible for modern students to 
 have had any knowledge of the Silurist's secular 
 poems. The original editions are of extreme 
 rarity. 
 
 Dr. Grosart in his reprint follows the spelling, 
 and I believe the punctuation also, of the 
 original editions. I have deemed it best to 
 modernise the former, and in some cases, to 
 correct the latter. 
 
 In the present volume will be found new 
 translations of three of Henry Vaughan's Latin 
 Poems, and translations of two pieces by 
 Thomas Vaughan, which had not, so far as I 
 am aware, been put into English dress before.
 
 VIU PREFACE. 
 
 For the former I am indebted ' to the Rev. 
 James Bell, of Hull ; and for the latter to the 
 Rev. Canon Wilton, m.a., the author of 
 Bcnedicite ; Smtgleanis : Lyrics : Sylvan and 
 Sacred, and other volumes of graceful and true 
 poetry. 
 
 The selection of Thomas Vaughan's Poems 
 here given (pp. 56-66) will, I hope, be the 
 means of drawing attention to one who, if he 
 had cared to have further courted the Muses, 
 might have made a name for himself as a Poet. 
 Many of his verses are little inferior to those 
 of his brother. I would draw the reader's 
 special attention to the fine address to the 
 Usk, and to the piece entitled Aelia Lcclia : 
 Hyanthe. 
 
 In conclusion, I have to thank my friend Mr. 
 R. Curtin for his careful and substantial 
 assistance in the transcription of a number of 
 the poems. This aid, cheerfully rendered, has 
 appreciably lightened my task, and in the 
 absence of proper leisure for a labour of this 
 kind, is all the more appreciated. 
 
 J. R. T. 
 Hull, February 20, iSgj.
 
 + 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface. v 
 
 To the River Usca ..---- i 
 
 Ad Fluvium Iscam ...... 4 
 
 To the River Usk (a translation of "Ad Fhiviuni 
 
 Iscam," by Rev. James Bell) ... 4 
 
 The Eagle 5 
 
 Ad Echum .--..--- 7 
 
 To Echo (a translation of "Ad Echum," by Rev. 
 
 James Bell) ----.-. 8 
 
 The Charnel House 9 
 
 In Amicum Fceneratorem - - - - - il 
 
 The Importunate Fortune ----- 13 
 
 To his Friend - - - - - - 16 
 
 To his retired Friend : An Invitation to Brecknock 19 
 
 To the best and most accomplished Couple 22 
 
 An Elegy upon the Death of Mr. R. W. - - 23 
 
 An Epitaph upon the Lady Elizabeth - - - 27 
 
 A Rhapsody ... at the Globe Tavern - 28 
 
 On Gombauld's "Endymion" - - - - 31 
 
 Upon Mr. Fletcher's Plays 32 
 
 On -Sir Thomas Bodley's Library - - - 34 
 
 Daphnis : An Elegiac Eclogue - - - - 36 
 
 The Golden Age, a translation from Boethius - 44 
 
 Love Poems : — 
 
 A Song to Amoret 45 
 
 Upon the Priory Grove, his usual retirement 46
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 Love Vo'Ei.is—coKtinued: — 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Fida ; or, the Country Beauty to Lysimachus 47 
 
 To Etesia (for Timander) the first Sight - 49 
 
 The Character : to Etesia - - - - 51 
 
 To Etesia looking from her casement at the 
 
 full moon ------ 53 
 
 To Etesia parted from him, and looking back 53 
 
 In Etesiam Lachrymantem - - - - 54 
 
 On Etesia Weeping (a translation of " In 
 Etesiam Lachrymantem," by Rev. James 
 Bell) 54 
 
 Etesia Absent 55 
 
 Poems by Thomas Vaugiian ("Eugenius 
 Philalethes"): — 
 
 To the Usk 56 
 
 Aelia Livlia : Ilyanthe - - - - 57 
 
 Thalia 59 
 
 Dawn ------- 60 
 
 On the three books of Cornelius Agrippa - 60 
 
 A Stone, and the Stony Heart - - - 62 
 
 Epitaphium Gulielmi Laud Episcopi Cantuari- 
 
 ensis --.-.-. 63 
 
 Epitaph of William Laud, Archbishop of 
 Canterbury (a translation of "Epita- 
 phium Cnilielmi Laud Ejiiscopi Cantu- 
 ariensis," by Rev. Canon Wilton, m.a. )- 64 
 
 Stella's Epitaph (Latin Text) - - - 65 
 
 Stella's Epitaph (a translation of the Latin 
 
 poem, by Rev. Canon Wilton, M.A.) - 66 
 
 Notes 68 
 
 BlBLIOGRAniY OF THE POEMS OV HeNRY 
 
 VaUGHAN, SiLURlST 78 
 
 Index (General) 80 
 
 Index ok First Lines 86
 
 SECULAR POEMS BY HENRY VAUGHAN. 
 
 TO THE RIVER USCA. 
 
 When Daphne's lover here first wore the bays, 
 Eurotas' secret streams heard all his lays, 
 And holy Orpheus, Nature's busy child, 
 By headlong Hebrus his deep hymns compiled. 
 Soft Petrarch — thawed by Laura's flames — did 
 
 weep 5 
 
 On Tiber's banks, when she — proud fair ! — 
 
 could sleep ; 
 Mosella boasts Ausonius, and the Thames 
 Doth murmur Sidney's Stella to her streams ; 
 While Severn, swollen with joy and sorrow, 
 
 wears 
 Castara's smiles mixed with fair Sabrin's tears. lo 
 Thus Poets — like the nymphs, their pleasing 
 
 themes — 
 Haunted the bubbling springs and gliding 
 
 streams. 
 And happy banks ! whence such fair flowers 
 
 have sprung. 
 But happier those where they have sate and 
 
 sung ! 
 Poets — like angels — where they once appear 15 
 Hallow the place, and each succeeding year 
 
 B
 
 2 TO THE RIVER USCA. 
 
 Adds reverence to 't, such as at length doth 
 
 »^ 
 
 give 
 
 This aged faith that there their genii Hve. 
 Hence, th' ancients say, that from this sickly 
 
 air 
 They pass to regions more refined and fair, 20 
 
 To meadows strowed with HHes and the rose, 
 And shades whose youthful green no old age 
 
 knows : 
 Where all in white they walk, discourse, and 
 
 sing 
 Like bees' soft murmurs, or a chiding spring. 
 
 But, Isca, whensoe'er those shades I see, 25 
 
 And thy loved arbours must no more know me, 
 When I am laid to rest hard by thy streams. 
 And my sun sets, where first it sprang in beams, 
 I'll leave behind me such a large, kind light, 
 As shall redeem thee from o])livious night, 30 
 
 And in these vows which — living yet — I pay, 
 Shed such a pervious and enduring ray. 
 As shall from age to age thy fair name lead, 
 Till rivers leave to run, and men to read. 
 
 First, may all bards born after me — 35 
 
 When I am ashes — sing of thee ! 
 
 May thy green banks or streams — or 
 none — 
 
 Be both their rill and Helicon ; 
 
 May vocal groves grow there, and all 
 
 The shades in them prophetical, 4<^ 
 
 Where — laid — men shall more fair 
 truths see 
 
 Than fictions were of Thessaly. 
 
 May thy gentle swains — like flowers — 
 
 Sweetly spend their youthful hours. 
 
 And thy beauteous nymphs — like ''^ 
 
 doves —
 
 TO THE RIVER USCA. 3 
 
 Be kind and faithful to their loves ; 
 
 Garlands and songs and roundelays, 
 
 Mild, dewy nights, and sunshine days. 
 
 The turtle's voice, joy without fear, 
 
 Dwell on thy bosom all the year ! 50 
 
 May the evet and the toad 
 
 Within thy banks have no abode. 
 
 Nor the wily, winding snake 
 
 Her voyage through thy waters make. 
 
 In all thy journey to the main 55 
 
 No nitrous clay, no brimstone-vein 
 
 Mix with thy streams, but may they 
 
 pass 
 Fresh as the air, and clear as glass ; 
 And where the wandering crystal 
 
 treads 
 Roses shall kiss and couple heads. 5o 
 
 The factor-wind from far shall bring 
 The odours of the scattered Spring, 
 And loaden with the rich arrear, 
 Spend it in spicy whispers there. 
 No sullen heats, nor flames that are 65 
 
 Offensive, and canicular. 
 Shine on thy sands, nor pry to see 
 Thy scaly, shading family, 
 But noons as mild as Hesper's rays, 
 Or the first blushes of fair days. -o 
 
 What gifts more Heaven or Earth can 
 
 add. 
 With all those blessings be thou clad ! 
 
 Honour, Beauty, 
 
 Faith and Duty, 
 
 Delight and Truth, ^^ 
 
 With Love and Youth 
 Crown all about thee ! and whatever fate 
 Impose elsewhere, whether the gravest state
 
 4 AD FLUVIUM ISCAM. 
 
 Or some toy else, may those loud, anxious cares 
 For dead and dying things — the common wares 80 
 And shows of Time — ne'er break thy peace, nor 
 
 make 
 Thy reposed arms to a new war awake ! 
 
 But freedom, safety, joy, and bliss 
 
 United in one loving kiss, 
 
 Surround thee quite, and style thy 
 
 borders ss 
 
 The land redeemed from all disorders ! 
 
 AD FLUVIUM ISCAM. 
 
 IsCA parens florum, placido qui spumeus ore 
 
 Lambis lapillos aureos ; 
 Qui maestos hyacinthos, et picti avCia tophi 
 
 Mulces susurris humidis ; 
 Dumque novas pergunt menses consumere lunas 5 
 
 Coelumque mortales terit, 
 Accumulas cum sole dies, aevumque per omne 
 
 Fidelis induras latex ; 
 O quis inaccessos et quali murmure lucos 
 
 Mutumque Solaris nemus ! '° 
 
 Per te discerpti credo Thracis ire querelas 
 
 Plectrumque divini senis. 
 
 TO THE RIVER USK. 
 
 [A iranslaiion of ^'- Ad Fluvium Isca/ii," by the 
 Rev. James Belli] 
 
 Usk! bnnger of flowers, who, with placid foam- 
 white lip, 
 Dost kiss the golden pebbles ;
 
 TO THE RIVER USK. 5 
 
 Sad hyacinths and blossoms of the tinted tuff, 
 
 Soothest with liquid trebles ; 
 \V'hilst always the unresting months make new 
 moons old, 
 The sky sees men fade ever, 
 Thy days are numbered with the sun, and 
 through all time 
 Thy flowing faileth never. 
 O who, the untrodden woods, the dim and 
 voiceless grove, 
 Cheerest with murmurous straying ! 
 Through thee I hear the plaints of Orpheus 
 slain mourn on, 
 The old man divine keep playing. 
 
 THE EAGLE. 
 
 'Tis madness sure ; and I am in the fit, 
 To dare an eagle with my unfledged wit. 
 For what did ever Rome or Athens sing. 
 In all their lines, as lofty as his wing ? 
 He that an eagle's powers would rehearse 
 Should with his plumes first feather all his 
 verse. 
 
 I know not, when into thee I would pry. 
 Which to admire, thy wing first, or thine eye ; 
 Or whether Nature at thy birth designed 
 More of her fire for thee, or of 'her wind. 
 When thou, in the clear heights and upmost air 
 Dost face the sun and his dispersed hair. 
 Even from that distance thou the Sea dost spy. 
 And, sporting in its deep, wide lap, the fry. 
 Not the least minnow there, but thou canst see : 
 Whole seas are narrow spectacles to thee. 
 
 Nor is this element of water here
 
 O THE EAGLE. 
 
 Below, of all thy miracles the sphere. 
 
 If poets aught may add unto thy store, 
 
 Thou hast a heaven, of wonders many more. 20 
 
 for when just Jove to Earth His thunder bends, 
 
 And from that l)right eternal fortress sends 
 
 His louder volleys : straight this bird doth fly 
 
 To -^.tna, where His magazine doth lie : 
 
 And in his active talons brings Him more 25 
 
 Of ammunition, and recruits His store. 
 
 Nor is't a low or easy lift. He soars 
 
 'Bove wind and fire ; gets to the moon, and 
 
 pores 
 With scorn upon her duller face ; for she 
 Gives him but shadows and obscurity. 3* 
 
 Here much displeased, that anything like Night 
 Should meet him in his proud and lofty flight. 
 That such dull tinctures should advance so far, 
 And rival in the glories of a star : 
 Resolved he is a nobler course to try, 35 
 
 And measures out his voyage with his eye. 
 Then with such fury he begins his flight, 
 As if his wings contended with his sight. 
 Leaving the moon, whose humble light dolli 
 
 trade 
 With spots, and deals most in the dark and 
 
 shade : ao 
 
 To the Day's royal planet he doth pass 
 With daring eyes, and makes the sun his glass. 
 Here doth he plume and dress himself, the 
 
 beams 
 Rushing upon him, like so many streams ; 
 While with direct looks he doth entertain 45 
 
 The thronging flames, and shoots them back 
 
 again. 
 And thus from star to star he doth repair, 
 And wantons in that pure and peaceful air.
 
 AD ECHUM. 7 
 
 Sometimes he frights the starry swan, and now 
 Orion's fearful hare, and then the crow. ^° 
 
 Then with the orb itself he moves, to see 
 Which is more swift, th' inteUigence or he. 
 Thus with his wings his body he hath brought 
 Where man can travel only in a thought. 
 
 I will not seek, rare bird, what spirit 'tis 55 
 
 That mounts thee thus ; I'll be content with 
 
 this : 
 To think, that Nature made thee to express 
 Our souls' bold heights in a material dress. 
 
 AD ECHUM. 
 
 O QUAE frondosae per amoena cubilia sylvae 
 Nympha volas, lucoque loquax spatiaris in alto, 
 Annosi numen nemoris, saltusque verendi 
 Effatum, cui sola placent postrema relatu ! 
 Te per Narcissi morientis verba, precesque 
 Per pueri lassatam animam, et conamina vitae 
 Ultima, palantisque precor suspiria linguae. 
 Da quo secretae haec incaedua devia sylvae, 
 Anfractusque loci dubios, et lustra repandam. 
 Sic tibi perpetua — meritoque — haeec regna 
 
 juventa 
 Luxurient, debiturque tuis, sine fine, viretis 
 Intactas lunae lachrymas, et lambere rorem 
 Virgineum, coelique animas haurire tepentis. 
 Nee cedant aevo stellis, sed lucida semper 
 Et satiata sacro aeterni medicamine veris 
 Ostendant longe vegetos, ut sydera, vultus ! 
 Sic spiret muscata comas, et cynnama passim ! 
 Diffundat levis umbra, in funere qualia spargit 
 Phoenicis rogus aut Pancheae nubila flammae !
 
 TO ECHO. 
 
 TO ECHO. 
 
 [A franslation of '■''Ad Echum'' by Rev. 
 James Bell.] 
 
 O Volant Nymph! that through the dim sweet 
 
 glades, 
 Where leaves hang whispering, and in darkling 
 
 shades 
 Of thickets green, babbling, dost ever move ; 
 Goddess of the hoar and shadowy grove, 
 Voice of the crag and woodland pasture drear, 5 
 Who dost delight the last faint shouts to 
 
 hear ! — 
 Thee, by pale Narcissus' faltering breath, 
 His overtaken soul in fight with death, 
 His low weak words, and hard-labouring 
 
 sighs — 
 Thee I implore to listen to my cries, 10 
 
 Amid the pathless tangle of this place. 
 And help me in distress my way to trace 
 Back to the cheerful scenes of joy and light ! 
 So may for thee, deserving this, be bright 
 These realms, and flourish in perpetual youth, 15 
 And these thy green retreats enjoy, in sooth, 
 Night's virgin dew, the moon's pure lustrous 
 
 tears. 
 And soft moist heavenly breezes, through all 
 
 years ; 
 Nor stars forsake thy clime, but always bring 
 The genial healing of eternal spring, 20 
 
 And constellations beam with shining eyes ! 
 So everywhere the scent of spices rise ! 
 A light mist spread abroad, and Phoenix-pyre 
 Smoke from its ashes clouds of Panchean fire !
 
 THE CHARNEL-HOUSE. 
 
 THE CHARNEL-HOUSE. 
 
 Bless me ! what damps are here ! how stiff an 
 
 air ! 
 Kelder of mists, a second fiat's care, 
 Front'spiece o' th' grave and darkness, a display 
 Of ruined man, and the decease of day ; 
 Lean, bloodless shamble, where I can descry 5 
 Fragments of men, rags of anatomy ; 
 Corruption's wardrobe, the transplantive bed 
 Of mankind, and th' exchequer of the dead. 
 How thou arrests my sense ! how with the 
 
 sight 
 My wintered blood grows stiff to all delight ! 10 
 Torpedo to the eye ! whose least glance can 
 Freeze our wild lusts, and rescue headlong 
 
 man ; 
 Eloquent silence ! able to immure 
 An atheist's thoughts, and blast an epicure. 
 Were I a Lucian, Nature in this dress 15 
 
 Would make me wish a Saviour, and confess. 
 Where are your shoreless thoughts, vast 
 tentered hope. 
 Ambitious dreams, aims of an endless scope, 
 Whose stretched excess runs on a string too 
 
 high, 
 And on the rack of self-extension die ? so 
 
 Chameleons of State, air-monging band. 
 Whose breath — like gunpowder — blows up a 
 
 land. 
 Come, see your dissolution, and weigh 
 What a loathed nothing you shall be one day. 
 As th' elements by circulation pass 25 
 
 From one to th' other, and that which first was 
 Is so again, so 'tis with you ; the grave
 
 lO THE CHARNEL-HOUSE. 
 
 And Nature but coniplot ; what the one gave, 
 The other takes. 'I'hink then that in this bed 
 There sleep the relics of as proud a head, 30 
 
 As stern and subtile as your own, that hath 
 Performed, or forced as much, whose tempest- 
 wrath 
 Hath levelled Kings with slaves, and wisely 
 
 then 
 Calm these high furies, and descend to men. 
 Thus Cyrus tamed the Macedon ; a tomb 35 
 
 Checked him who thought the world too strait 
 a room. 
 Have I obeyed the powers of a face, 
 A beauty able to undo the race 
 Of easy man ? I look but here, and straight 
 I am informed the lovely counterfeit 40 
 
 Was but a smoother clay. That famished slave. 
 Beggared by wealth, who starves that he may 
 
 save, 
 Brings hither but his sheet ; nay th' ostrich-man 
 That feeds on steel and bullet, he that can 
 Outswear his lordship, and reply as tough 45 
 
 To a kind word, as if his tongue were buffe. 
 Is chap-fallen here. Worms, without wit or 
 
 fear. 
 Defy him now ; Death hath disarmed the bear. 
 Thus could I run o'er all the piteous score 
 Of erring men, and, having done, meet more ; 50 
 Their shuffled wills, abortive, vain intents. 
 Fantastic humours, perilous ascents. 
 False, empty honours, traitorous delights, 
 And whatsoe'er a blind conceit invites. 
 But these, and more, which the weak vermin 
 
 swell, 55 
 
 Are couched in this accumulative cell, 
 Which I could scatter ; but the grudging sun
 
 IN AjNIICUM FCENERATOREM. II 
 
 Calls home his beams, and warns me to be 
 
 gone. 
 Day leaves me in a double night, and I 
 Must bid farewell to my sad library. 60 
 
 Yet with these notes : Henceforth with thought 
 
 of thee 
 I'll season all succeeding jollity, 
 Yet damn not mirth, nor think too much is fit ; 
 Excess hath nor religion, nor wit ; 
 But should wild blood swell to a lawless strain, 65 
 One check from thee shall channel it again. 
 
 IN AMICUM FCENERATOREM. 
 
 Thanks, mighty Silver ! I rejoice to see 
 How I have spoiled his thrift, by spending thee. 
 Now thou art gone, he courts my wants with 
 
 more, 
 His decoy gold, and bribes me to restore. 
 As lesser load-stones with the North consent, s 
 Naturally moving to their element ; 
 As bodies swarm to th' centre, and that fire, 
 Man stole from heaven, to heaven doth still 
 
 aspire ; 
 So this vast crying sum draws in a less, 
 And hence this bag more Northward laid, I 
 
 guess ; 10 
 
 For 'tis of pole-star force, and in this sphere. 
 Though th' least of many, rules the master-bear. 
 Prerogative of debts ! how he doth dress 
 His messages in chink ! not an express 
 Without a fee for reading ; and 'tis fit, 15 
 
 For gold's the best restorative of wit ; 
 Oh how he gilds them o'er ! with what delight
 
 12 IN AMICUM IXENERATOREM. 
 
 I read those lines, which angels do indite ! 
 
 But wilt have money, Og? must I disperse? 
 Will nothing serve thee but a poet's curse ? 20 
 
 Wilt roh an altar thus? and sweep at once 
 What, Or])heus-Iike, I forced from stocks and 
 
 stones? 
 'Twill never swell thy bag, nor ring one peal 
 In thy dark chest. Talk not of sheriffs or gaol, 
 I fear them not. I have no land to glut 25 
 
 Thy dirty appetite, and make thee strut 
 Nimrod of acres ; Fll no speech prepare 
 To court the hopeful cormorant, thine heir. 
 For there's a kingdom at thy beck, if thou 
 But kick this dross : Parnassus' flowery brow 30 
 I'll give thee with my Tempe, and to boot, 
 That horse which struck a fountain with his 
 
 foot. 
 A bed of roses I'll provide for thee, 
 And crystal springs shall drop thee melody ! 
 The breathing shades we'll haunt, where ev'ry 
 
 leaf 35 
 
 Shall whisper us asleep, though thou art deaf; 
 Those waggish nymphs, too, which none ever 
 
 yet 
 Durst make love to, we'll teach the loving fit. 
 We'll suck the coral of their lips, and feed 
 Upon their spicy breath, a meal at need ; 40 
 
 Rove in their amber-tresses, and unfold 
 That glist'ring grove, the curled wood of gold ; 
 Then peep for babies, a new puppet play. 
 And riddle what their prattling eyes would say. 
 But here thou must remember to disperse ; 45 
 
 For without money all this is a curse : 
 'J'hou must for more bags call, and so restore 
 This iron-age to gold, as once before ; 
 This thou must do, and yet this is not all.
 
 THE IMPORTUNATE FORTUNE. 1 3 
 
 For thus the poet would be still in thrall, so 
 
 Thou must then— if live thus— my nest of 
 
 honey, 
 Cancel old bonds, and beg to lend more 
 
 money. 
 
 THE IMPORTUNATE FORTUNE. 
 
 Writfefi to Dr. Foivell, of Cant re fi. 
 
 For shame desist, why shouldst thou seek my 
 
 fall ? 
 It cannot make thee more monarchical. 
 Leave off; thy empire is already built ; 
 To ruin me were to enlarge thy guilt, 
 Not thy prerogative. I am not he 5 
 
 Must be the measure to thy victory. 
 The fates hatch more for thee ; 'twere a disgrace 
 If in thy annals I should make a clause. 
 The future ages will disclose such men 
 Shall be the glory and the end of them. 10 
 
 Nor do I flatter. So long as there be 
 Descents in Nature, or posterity, 
 There must be fortunes ; whether they be good, 
 As swimming in thy tide and plenteous flood. 
 Or stuck fast in the shallow ebb, when we 15 
 
 Miss to deserve thy gorgeous charity. 
 Thus Fortune, the great world thy period is ; 
 Nature and you are parallels in this. 
 But thou wilt urge me still. Away, be gone, 
 I am resolved, I will not be undone. 20 
 
 I scorn thy trash, and thee : nay more, I do 
 Despise myself, because thy subject too. 
 Name me heir to thy malice, and I'll be ;
 
 14 THE IMPORTUNATE- FORTUNE. 
 
 Thy hate's the best inheritance for me. 
 
 I care not for your wondrous hat and purse, 25 
 
 Make me a Fortunatus with thy curse. 
 
 How careful of myself then should I he, 
 
 Were I neglected by the world and thee ? 
 
 Why dost thou tempt me with thy dirty ore, 
 
 And with thy riches make my soul so poor? 30 
 
 My fancy's prisoner to thy gold and thee, 
 
 Thy favours rob me of my liberty. 
 
 I'll to my speculations. Is it best 
 
 To be confined to some dark, narrow chest, 
 
 And idolize thy stamps, when I may be 35 
 
 Lord of all Nature, and not slave to thee? 
 
 The world's my palace. I'll contemplate there, 
 
 And make my progress into every sphere. 
 
 The chambers of the Air are mine ; those three 
 
 Well-furnished storeys my possession be. 40 
 
 I hold them all in capitc, and stand 
 
 Propt by my Fancy there. I scorn your land, 
 
 It lies so far below me. Here I see 
 
 How all the sacred stars do circle me. 
 
 Thou to the great giv'st rich food, and I do 45 
 
 Want no content ; I feed on manna too. 
 
 They have their tapers ; I gaze without fear 
 
 On frying lamps, and flaming comets here. 
 
 Their wanton flesh, in silks and purple shrouds. 
 
 And Fancy wraps me in a robe of clouds. 50 
 
 There some delicious beauty they may woo. 
 
 And I have Nature for my mistress too. 
 
 But these are mean ; the Archtype I can see. 
 And humbly touch the hem of Majesty. 
 The power of my soul is such, I can 55 
 
 Expire, and so analyse all that's man. 
 First my dull clay I give unto the Earth, 
 Our common mother, which gives all their 
 birth.
 
 THE LMPORTUNATE FORTUNE. 1 5 
 
 My growing faculties I send as soon 
 
 Whence first I took them, to the humid moon, fo 
 
 All subtilties and every cunning art 
 
 To witty INIercury I do impart. 
 
 Those fond affections which made me a slave 
 
 To handsome faces, Venus, thou shalt have. 
 
 And saucy Pride — if there was aught in me — 65 
 
 Sol, I return it to thy royalty. 
 
 My daring rashness and presumptions be 
 
 To Mars himself an equal legacy. 
 
 My ill-placed Avarice — sure 'tis but small — 
 
 Jove, to thy flames I do bequeath it all. 70 
 
 And my false ]\Iagic, which I did believe, 
 
 And mystic lies, to Saturn I do give. 
 
 My dark imaginations, rest you there. 
 
 This is your grave and superstitious sphere. 
 
 Get up, my disentangled soul, thy fire 75 
 
 Is now refined, and nothing left to tire 
 Or clog thy wings. Now my auspicious flight 
 Hath brought me to the empyrean light. 
 I am a sep'rate essence, and can see 
 The emanations of the Deity, 80 
 
 And how they pass the seraphims, and run 
 Through every throne and domination. 
 So rushing through the guard, the sacred 
 
 streams 
 Flow to the neighbour stars, and in their 
 
 beams — 
 A glorious cataract ! — descend to Earth 85 
 
 And give impressions unto every birth. 
 With angels now and spirits I do dwell. 
 And here it is my nature to do well. 
 Thus, though my body you confined see. 
 My boundless thoughts have their ubiquity. 90 
 
 And shall I then forsake the stars and signs, 
 To dote upon thy dark and cursed mines ?
 
 1 6 TO HIS FRIEND 
 
 Unhappy, sad exchange ! what, must I buy 
 
 Guiana with the loss of all the sky ? 
 
 Intelligences shall I leave, and be 95 
 
 Familiar only with mortality ? 
 
 Must I know nought but the exchequer? Shall 
 
 My purse and fancy be symmetrical ? 
 
 Are there no objects left but one? Must we, 
 
 In gaining that, lose our variety ? ,^ 
 
 Fortune, this is the reason I refuse 
 Thy wealth ; it puts my books all out of use. 
 'Tis poverty that makes me wise ; my mind 
 Is big with speculation, when I find 
 My purse as Randolph's was, and I confess 105 
 
 There is no blessing to an emptiness ! 
 The species of all things to me resort 
 And dwell then in my breast, as in their port. 
 Then leave to court me with thy hated store, 
 Thou givest me that, to rob my soul of more, no 
 
 TO HIS FRIEND 
 
 I WONDER, James, through the whole history 
 
 Of ages, such entails of poverty 
 
 Are laid on Poets ; Lawyers — they say — have 
 
 found 
 A trick to cut them, would they were but bound 
 To practice on us, though for this thing we 
 Should pay — if possible — their bribes and fee. 
 Search — as thou canst — the old and modern 
 
 store 
 Of Rome, and ours, and all the witty score, 
 Thou shalt not find a rich one ; take each 
 
 clime 
 And run o'er all the pilgrimage of time, 
 Thou'lt meet them poor, and everywhere descry
 
 TO HIS FRIEND . 17 
 
 A threadbare, goldless genealogy. 
 
 Nature — it seems — when she meant us for 
 
 Earth 
 Spent so much of her treasure in the birth 
 As ever after niggards her, and she, 15 
 
 Thus stored within, beggars us outwardly. 
 Woeful profusion ! at how dear a rate 
 Are we made up ? all hope of thrift and state 
 Lost for a verse. When I by thoughts look 
 
 back 
 Into the womb of time, and see the rack 20 
 
 Stand useless there, until we are produced 
 Unto the torture, and our souls infused 
 To learn affliction, I begin to doubt 
 That as some tyrants use, from their chained 
 
 rout 
 Of slaves, to pick out one whom, for their 
 
 sport, 25 
 
 They keep afflicted by some lingering art ; 
 So we are merely thrown upon the stage 
 The mirth of fools, and legend of the age. 
 When I see in the ruins of a suit 
 Some nobler breast, and his tongue sadly 
 
 mute, 30 
 
 Feed on the vocal silence of his eye, 
 And knowing cannot reach the remedy ; 
 When souls of baser stamp shine in their 
 
 store. 
 
 And he of all the throng is only poor ; 
 
 When French apes for foreign fashions pay, 35 
 
 And English legs are drest th' outlandish way. 
 
 So fine, too, that they their own shadows woo, 
 
 While he walks in the sad and pilgrim shoe : 
 
 I'm mad at Fate, and angry even to sin, 
 
 To see deserts and learning clad so thin ; 40 
 
 To think how th' earthly usurer can brood 
 
 c
 
 l8 TO HIS FRIEND 
 
 Upon his bags, and weigh the precious food 
 
 With palsied hands, as if his soul did fear 
 
 The scales could rob him of what he laid 
 
 there ; 
 Like devils that on hid treasures sit, or those 45 
 Whose jealous eyes trust not beyond their 
 
 nose ; 
 They guard the dirt, and the bright idol hold 
 Close, and commit adultery with gold. 
 A curse upon their dross ! how have we sued 
 For a few scattered chips ? how oft pursued s" 
 Petitions with a blush, in hope to squeeze. 
 For their souls' health, more than our wants 
 
 appease ? 
 Their steel-ribbed chest and purse — rust eat 
 
 them both ! — 
 Have cost us w'ith much paper many an oath, 
 And protestations of such solemn sense, 55 
 
 As if our souls were sureties for the pence. 
 Should we a full night's learned cares present, 
 They'll scarce return us one short hour's 
 
 content ; 
 'Las ! they're but quibbles, things we poets 
 
 feign. 
 The short-lived squibs and crackers of the 
 
 brain. 60 
 
 But we'll be wiser, knowing 'tis not they 
 That must redeem the hardships of our way, 
 Whether a Higher Power, or that star 
 Which nearest Heaven, is from the Earth most 
 
 far 
 Oppress us thus, or angeled from that sphere 65 
 By our strict guardians are kept luckless 
 
 here. 
 It matters not, we shall one day obtain 
 Our native and celestial scope again.
 
 TO HIS RETIRED FRIEND. I9 
 
 TO HIS RETIRED FRIEND: AN INVI- 
 TATION TO BRECKNOCK. 
 
 Since last we met, thou and thy horse — my 
 
 dear, 
 Have not so much as drunk, or littered here ; 
 I wonder, though thyself be thus deceased, 
 Thou hast the spite to cofifin up thy beast ; 
 Or is the palfrey sick, and his rough hide 5 
 
 With the penance of one spur mortified ? 
 Or taught by thee — like Pythagoras' ox — ■ 
 Is then his master grown more orthodox? 
 Whatever 'tis, a sober cause 't must be 
 That thus long bars us of thy company. 10 
 
 The town believes thee lost, and didst thou see 
 But half her sufferings, now distrest for thee, 
 Thou'ldst swear — like Rome — her foul, polluted 
 
 walls 
 Were sacked by Brennus, and the savage Gauls. 
 Abominable face of things ! here's noise 15 
 
 Of banged mortars, blue aprons, and boys. 
 Pigs, dogs, and drums, with the hoarse hellish 
 
 notes 
 Of politicly-deaf usurers' throats, 
 With new fine Worships, and the old cast team 
 Of Justices vext with the cough and phlegm. 20 
 Midst these, the Cross looks sad, and in the 
 
 Shire- 
 Hall furs of an old Saxon Fox appear, 
 With brotherly ruffs and beards, and a strange 
 
 sight 
 Of high monumental hats, ta'en at the fight 
 Of 'Eighty-eight ; while every Burgess foots 25 
 
 The mortal pavement in eternal boots.
 
 20 TO HIS RETIRED FRIEND. 
 
 Hadst thou been bachelor, I had soon 
 divined 
 Thy close retirements, and monastic mind ; 
 Perhaps some nymph had been to visit, or 
 The beauteous churl was to be waited for, 30 
 
 And, like the Greek, ere you the sport would 
 
 miss. 
 You stayed, and stroked the distaff for a kiss. 
 But in this age, when thy cool, settled blood 
 Is tied t' one flesh, and thou almost grown good, 
 I know not how to reach the strange device, 3s 
 Except — Domitian like — thou murder'st flies ; 
 Or is't thy piety ? for who can tell 
 But thou may'st prove devout, and love a cell, 
 And — like a badger — with attentive looks 
 In the dark hole sit rooting up of books. 4<> 
 
 Quick hermit ! what a peaceful change hadst 
 
 thou. 
 Without the noise of hair-cloth, whip, or vow ! 
 But is there no redemption ? must there be 
 No other penance but of liberty ? 
 Why, two months hence, if thou continue thus, 45 
 Thy memory will scarce remain with us. 
 The drawers have forgot thee, and exclaim 
 They have not seen thee here since Charles's 
 
 reign ; 
 Or if they mention thee, like some old man, 
 That at each word inserts — "Sir, as I can 50 
 
 Remember " — so the Ciph'rers puzzle me 
 With a dark, cloudy character of thee. 
 That, certs ! I fear thou wilt be lost, and we 
 Must ask the fathers ere't be long for thee. 
 
 Come ! leave this sullen state, and let not 
 wine, 55 
 
 And precious wit, lie dead for want of thine ; 
 Shall the dull market-landlord with his rout
 
 TO HIS RETIRED FRIEND. 21 
 
 Of sneaking tenants dirtily swill out 
 
 This harmless liquor? shall they knock and 
 
 beat 
 For sack, only to talk of rye and wheat ? ^° 
 
 let not such preposterous tippling be 
 In our metropolis ; may I ne'er see 
 Such tavern-sacrilege, nor lend a line 
 To weep the rapes and tragedy of wine. 
 
 Here lives that chemic, quick fire which betrays ^s 
 Fresh spirits to the blood, and warms our lays. 
 
 1 have reserved 'gainst thy approach a cup 
 That, were thy Muse stark dead, shall raise her 
 
 up, 
 And reach her yet more charming words and skill 
 Than ever Ccelia, Chloris, Astrophel, 7° 
 
 Or any of the thread-bare names inspired 
 Poor rhyming lovers with a mistress fired. 
 Come then ! and, while the slow icicle hangs 
 At the stiff thatch, and Winter's frosty pangs 
 Benumb the year, blithe — as of old — let us 75 
 
 'Midst noise and war, of peace and mirth 
 
 discuss. 
 This portion thou wert born for ; why should we 
 Vex at the time's ridiculous misery? 
 An age that thus hath fooled itself, and will — 
 Spite of thy teeth and mine — persist so still. 80 
 Let's sit then at this fire, and, while we steal 
 A revel in the town, let others seal, 
 Purchase or cheat, and who can, let them pay, 
 Till those black deeds bring on the darksome 
 
 day; 
 Innocent spenders we ! a better use 85 
 
 Shall wear out our short lease, and leave th' 
 
 obtuse 
 Rout to their husks ; they and their bags at best 
 Have cares in earnest ; we care for a jest.
 
 2 2 TO THE MOST ACCOMPLISHED COUPLE. 
 
 TO THE 15EST AND MOST ACCOM- 
 PLISHED COUPLE, . 
 
 Blessings as rich and fragrant crown your 
 
 heads 
 As the mild Heaven on roses sheds, 
 When at their cheeks — hke pearls — they wear 
 The clouds that court them in a tear ; 
 And may they be fed from above 5 
 
 By Him which first ordained your love ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Fresh as the hours may all your pleasures 
 
 be. 
 And healthful as eternity ! 
 Sweet as the flowers' first breath, and close 
 As th' unseen spreadings of the rose, i» 
 
 When he unfolds his curtained head, 
 And makes his bosom the sun's bed. 
 
 III. 
 
 Soft as yourselves run your whole lives, and 
 
 clear 
 As your own glass, or what shines there ; 
 Smooth as Heaven's face, and bright as he 15 
 
 When without mask, or tiffany ; 
 In all your time not one jar meet. 
 But peace as silent at his feet. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Like the day's warmth may all your comforts 
 
 be, 
 Untoiled for, and serene as he, 20 
 
 Yet free and full as is that sheaf
 
 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. W. 23 
 
 Of sunbeams gilding every leaf, 
 
 When now the tyrant-heat expires, 
 
 And his cooled locks breathe milder fires. 
 
 V. 
 
 And as those parcelled glories he doth shed 25 
 
 Are the fair issues of his head. 
 
 Which ne'er so distant are soon known 
 
 By th' heat and lustre for his own ; 
 
 So may each branch of yours we see, 
 
 Your copies and our wonders be ! 3° 
 
 VI. 
 
 And when no more on Earth you must remain, 
 
 Invited hence to Heaven again, 
 
 Then may your virtuous virgin-flames 
 
 Shine in those heirs of your fair names. 
 
 And teach the world that mystery, 3S 
 
 Yourselves in your posterity ! 
 
 So you to both worlds shall rich presents bring, 
 And gathered up to Heaven, leave her a 
 spring. 
 
 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OE MR. 
 R. W., SLAIN IN THE LATE UN- 
 FORTUNATE DIFFERENCES AT 
 ROWTON HEATH, NEAR CHESTER, 
 1645. 
 
 I AM confirmed, and so much wing is given 
 To my wild thoughts, that they dare strike at 
 
 Heaven. 
 A full year's grief I struggled with, and stood 
 Still on my sandy hopes' uncertain good,
 
 24 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. W. 
 
 So loth was I to yield ; to all those fears 5 
 
 I still opposed thee, and denied my tears. 
 
 But thou art gone ! and the untimely loss 
 
 Like that one day, hath made all others cross. 
 
 Have you seen on some river's flow'ry brow 
 
 A well-built elm, or stately cedar grow, 10 
 
 Whose curled tops, gilt with the morning-ray, 
 
 Beckoned the sun, and whispered to the day. 
 
 When, unexpected, from the angry North, 
 
 A fatal sullen whirl-wind sallies forth, 
 
 And with a full-mouthed blast rends from the 
 
 ground ,5 
 
 The shady twins, which, rushing, scatter round 
 Their sighing leaves, whilst overborne with 
 
 strength. 
 Their trembling heads bow to a prostrate 
 
 length ; 
 So forced, fell he; so, immaturely, Death 
 Stifled his able heart and active breath. 20 
 
 The world scarce knew him yet, his early soul 
 Had but new-broke her day, and rather stole 
 A sight, than gave one ; as if subtly she 
 Would learn our stock, but hide his treasury. 
 His years, — should Time lay both his wings and 
 
 glass 25 
 
 Unto his charge — could not be summed — 
 
 alas ! — 
 To a full score : though in so short a span 
 His riper thoughts had purchased more of 
 
 man 
 Than all those worthless livers, which yet quick 
 Have quite outgrown their own arithmetic. 30 
 
 He seized perfections, and without a dull 
 And mossy gray possessed a solid skull ; 
 No crooked knowledge neither, nor did he 
 Wear the friend's name for ends and policy,
 
 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. W. 25 
 
 And then lay 't by ; as those lost youths of th' 
 
 stage, 35 
 
 Who only flourished for the Play's short age, 
 And then retired ; like jewels, in each part 
 He wore his friends, but chiefly at his heart. 
 
 Nor was it only in this he did excel, 
 His equal valour could as much, as well. 4° 
 
 He knew no fear but of his God ; yet durst 
 No injury, nor — as some have — e'er pur'st 
 The sweat and tears of others, yet would be 
 More forward in a royal gallantry 
 Than all those vast pretenders, which of late 45 
 Swelled in the ruins of the King and State. 
 He weaved not self-ends, and the public good 
 Into one piece, nor with the people's blood 
 Filled his own veins ; in all the doubtful way 
 Conscience and honour ruled him. O that day, 50 
 When, like the fathers in the fire and cloud, 
 I missed thy face ! I might in every crowd 
 See arms like thine, and men advance, but none 
 So near to lightning moved, nor so fell on. 
 Have you observed how soon the nimble eye 55 
 Brings th' object to conceit, and doth so vie 
 Performance with the soul, that you would 
 
 swear 
 The act and apprehension not lodged there ; 
 Just so moved he : like shot his active hand 
 Drew blood, ere well the foe could understand : 60 
 But here I lost him. Whether the last turn 
 Of thy few sands called on thy hasty urn, 
 Or some fierce rapid fate — hid from the eye — 
 Hath hurled thee prisoner to some distant sky, 
 I cannot tell, but that I do believe 65 
 
 Thy courage such as scorned a base reprieve. 
 Whatever 'twas, whether that day thy breath 
 Suffered a civil or the common death,
 
 26 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. W. 
 
 Which I do most suspect, and that I have 
 
 Failed in the glories of so known a grave, 7* 
 
 Though thy loved ashes miss me, and mine 
 
 eyes 
 Had no acquaintance with thy exequies, 
 Nor at the last farewell, torn from thy sight 
 On the bold sheet have fixed a sad delight, 
 Yet whate'er pious hand — instead of mine — 75 
 Hath done this office to that dust of thine, 
 And till thou rise again from thy low bed 
 Lent a cheap pillow to thy quiet head, 
 Though but a private turf, it can do more 
 To keep thy name and memory in store 80 
 
 Than all those lordly fools which lock their 
 
 bones 
 In the dumb piles of chested brass, and 
 
 stones. 
 Thou 'rt rich in thy own fame, and needest not 
 These marble-frailties, nor the gilded blot 
 Of posthume honours ; there is not one sand 85 
 Sleeps o'er thy grave, but can outbid that hand 
 And pencil too, so that of force we must 
 Confess their heaps shew lesser than thy dust. 
 
 And — blessed soul ! — though this my sorrow 
 can 
 Add nought to thy perfections, yet as man 90 
 
 Subject to envy, and the common fate. 
 It may redeem thee to a fairer date ; 
 As seme blind dial, when the day is done, 
 Can tell us, at midnight, there was a sun. 
 So these, perhaps, though much beneath thy 
 
 fame, 95 
 
 May keep some weak remembrance of thy 
 
 name. 
 And to the faith of better times commend 
 Thy loyal upright life, and gallant end.
 
 AN EPITAPH UPON THE LADY ELIZABETH. 27 
 
 AN EPITAPH UPON THE LADY ELIZA- 
 BETH, SECOND DAUGHTER TO 
 HIS LATE MAJESTY. 
 
 Youth, beauty, virtue, innocence. 
 
 Heaven's royal, and select expense, 
 
 With virgin-tears, and sighs divine. 
 
 See here the genii of this shrine ; 
 
 Where now — thy fair soul winged away — 5 
 
 They guard the casket where she lay. 
 
 Thou hadst, ere thou the light couldst see. 
 Sorrows laid up, and stored for thee ; 
 Thou suck'dst in woes, and the breasts lent 
 Their milk to thee, but to lament ; lo 
 
 Thy portion here was grief, thy years 
 Distilled no other rain, but tears. 
 Tears without noise, but — understood — 
 As loud and shrill as any blood ; 
 Thou seem'st a rose-bud born in snow, 15 
 
 A flower of purpose sprung to bow 
 To heedless tempests, and the rage 
 Of an incensed, stormy age. 
 Others, ere their afflictions grow, 
 Are timed, and seasoned for the blow, 2° 
 
 But thine, as rheums the tend'rest part. 
 Fell on a young and harmless heart. 
 And yet, as balm-trees gently spend 
 Their tears for those that do them rend, 
 So mild and pious thou wert seen, ^5 
 
 Though full of sufferings ; free from spleen, 
 Thou didst not murmur, nor revile. 
 And drank'st thy wormwood with a smile. 
 
 As envious eyes blast, and infect. 
 And cause misfortunes by aspect, 30
 
 28 A RHAPSODY. 
 
 So thy sad stars dispensed to thee, 
 No influx, but calamity; 
 They viewed thee with ech'ps^d rays, 
 And but the back side of bright days. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 These were the comforts she had here, as 
 
 As by an unseen hand 'tis clear. 
 
 Which now she reads, and smiling wears 
 
 A crown with Him who wipes off tears. 
 
 A RHAPSODY: 
 
 Occasionally written t/po/i a meeting with some of 
 /lis friends at the Globe Tavern, in a 
 ciianiber painted overhead ivith a cloudy sky, 
 and some feiv dispersed stars, and on the 
 sides with landscapes, hills, shepherds, and 
 sheep. 
 
 Darkness and stars i' th' mid-day ! they invite 
 Our active fancies to believe it night : 
 For taverns need no sun, but for a sign, 
 Where rich tobacco and quick tapers shine ; 
 And royal witty sack, the poet's soul 5 
 
 With brighter suns than he doth gild the bowl ; 
 As though the pot and poet did agree 
 Sack should to both Illuminator be. 
 That artificial cloud with its curled brow 
 Tells us 'tis late ; and that blue space below 10 
 Is fired with many stars. Mark how they break 
 In silent glances o'er the hills, and speak 
 The evening to the plains, where, shot from far, 
 They meet in dumb salutes, as one great star. 
 The room — methinks — grows darker, and 
 the air 15
 
 A RHAPSODY. 29 
 
 Contracts a sadder colour, and less fair : 
 
 Or is't the drawer's skill ? hath he no arts 
 
 To blind us so we can't know pints from quarts ? 
 
 No, No, 'tis night : look where the jolly clown 
 
 Musters his bleating herd, and quits the down. 20 
 
 Hark ! how his rude pipe frets the quiet air, 
 
 Whilst every hill proclaims Lycoris fair. 
 
 Rich, happy man ! that canst thus watch, and 
 
 sjeep. 
 Free from all cares, but thy wench, pipe, and 
 
 sheep. 
 But see, the moon is up : view where she stands 25 
 Sentinel o'er the door, drawn by the hands 
 Of some base painter, that for gain hath made 
 Her face the landmark to the tippling trade. 
 'Twas wit at first, and wine that made them live : 
 Choke may the Painter ! and his box disclose 30 
 No other colours than his fiery nose ; 
 And may we no more of his pencil see 
 Than two churchwardens and Mortality. 
 
 Should we go now a-wandering, we should 
 meet 
 With catchpolls, whores, and carts in every 
 
 street : 35 
 
 Now when each narrow lane, each nook and 
 
 cave. 
 Sign-posts and shop-doors, pimp for every knave. 
 When riotous sinful plush, and tell-tale spurs 
 Walk Fleet Street, and the Strand, when the 
 
 soft stirs 
 Of bawdy, ruffled silks, turn night to day ; 40 
 
 And the loud whip, and coach, scolds all the 
 
 way ; 
 When lust of all sorts, and each itchy blood 
 From the Tower-wharf, to Cymbeline and Lud, 
 Hunts for a mate, and the tired footman reels
 
 3° A RHAPSODY. 
 
 'Twixt chair-men, torches, and the hacking 
 
 wheels. 4S 
 
 Come, take the other dish ; it is to him 
 That made his horse a senator; each brim 
 Look big as mine. The gallant, jolly beast 
 Of all the herd — you'll say — was not the least. 
 
 Now crown the second Ijowl, rich as his worth, 50 
 I'll drink it to [him] that like fire broke forth 
 Into the Senate's face, crost Rubicon, 
 And the State's pillars, with their laws thereon ; 
 And made the dull gray beards and furred 
 
 gowns fly 
 Into Brundusium to consult and lie. 55 
 
 This, to brave Sylla ! why should it be said 
 We drink more to the living than the dead ? 
 Flatterers and fools do use it. Let us laugh 
 At our own honest mirth ; for they that quaff 
 To honour others, do like those that sent 60 
 
 Their gold and plate to strangers to be spent. 
 
 Drink deep : this cup be pregnant : and the 
 wine. 
 Spirit of wit, to make us all divine. 
 That, big with sack and mirth, we may retire 
 Possessors of more souls, and nobler fire ; 65 
 
 And by the influx of this painted sky. 
 And laboured forms, to higher matters fly ; 
 So, if a nap shall take us, we shall all. 
 After full cups, have dreams poetical. 
 
 Let's laugh now, and the pressed grape drink, 70 
 Till the drowsy day-star wink ; 
 And in our merry, mad mirth run 
 Faster and further than the sun ; 
 And let none his cup forsake, 
 Till that star again doth wake ; 75 
 
 So we men below shall move 
 Equally with the gods above.
 
 ON gombauld's "endymion." 31 
 
 ON GOMBAULD'S "ENDYMION." 
 
 I've read thy soul's fair night-piece, and have 
 
 seen 
 Th' amours and courtship of the silent Queen, 
 Her stolen descents to Earth, and what did 
 
 move her 
 To juggle first with Heaven, then with a lover ; 
 With Latmos' louder rescue, and — alas ! — 
 To find her out a hue and cry in brass ; 
 Thy journal of deep mysteries, and sad 
 Nocturnal pilgrimage ; with thy dreams clad 
 In fancies darker than thy cave ; thy glass 
 Of sleepy draughts ; and as thy soul did pass 
 In her calm voyage what discourse she heard 
 Of spirits ; what dark groves and ill-shaped 
 
 guard 
 Ismena lead thee through, with thy proud flight 
 O'er Periardes, and deep, musing night 
 Near fair Eurotas' banks ; what solemn green 
 The neighbours shade wear; and what forms 
 
 are seen 
 In their large bowers ; with that sad path and 
 
 seat 
 Which none but light-heeled nymphs and fairies 
 
 beat ; 
 Their solitary life, and how exempt 
 From common frailty; the severe contempt 
 They have of man, their privilege to live 
 A tree or fountain, and in that reprieve 
 What ages they consume : with the sad vale 
 Of Diophania ; and the mournful tale 
 Of the bleeding vocal myrtle ; these and more, 
 Thy richer thoughts, we are upon the score 
 To thy rare fancy for. Nor dost thou fall
 
 32 UPON MR. FLETCHERS PLAYS. 
 
 From thy first majesty, or aught at- all 
 Betray consumption ; thy full vig'rous bays 
 Wear the same green, and scorn the lean decays 3<> 
 Of style, or matter ; just so have I known 
 Some crystal spring, that from the neighbour 
 
 down 
 Derived her birth, in gentle murmurs steal 
 To the next vale, and proudly there reveal 
 Her streams in louder accents, adding still 35 
 
 More noise and waters to her channel, till 
 At last, swollen with increase, she glides along 
 The lawns and meadows in a wanton throng 
 Of frothy billows, and in one great name 
 Swallows the tributary brooks' drowned fame. 40. 
 
 Nor are they mere inventions, for we 
 In th' same piece find scattered philosophy. 
 And hidden, dispersed truths that enfolded lie 
 In the dark shades of deep allegory : 
 So neatly weaved, like arras, they descry 45 
 
 Fables with truth, fancy with mystery. 
 So that thou hast in this thy curious mould 
 Cast that commended mixture wished of old, 
 Which shall these contemplations render far 
 Less mutable, and lasting as their star; 50 
 
 And while there is a people, or a sun, 
 Endymion's story with the moon shall run. 
 
 UPON MR. FLETCHER'S PLAYS, 
 PUBLISHED 1647. 
 
 I KNEW thee not, nor durst attendance strive 
 Label to wit, Verser remonstrative, 
 And in some suburb page — scandal to thine — 
 Like Lent before a Christmas, scatter mine. 
 This speaks thee not, since at the utmost rate
 
 UPON MR. FLETCHERS PLAYS. 33 
 
 Such remnants from thy piece entreat their date ; 
 Nor can I dub the copy, or afford 
 Titles to swell the rear of verse with lord, 
 Nor politically big, to inch low fame, 
 Stretch in the glories of a stranger's name, lo 
 
 And clip those bays I court ; weak striver I, 
 But a faint echo unto Poetry. 
 I have not clothes t' adopt me, nor must sit 
 For plush and velvet's sake, esquire of Wit, 
 Yet modesty these crosses would improve, 15 
 
 And rags near thee, some reverence may move. 
 I did believe — great Beaumont being dead — 
 Thy widowed Muse slept on his flowery bed ; 
 But T am richly cozened, and can see 
 Wit transmigrates : his spirit stayed with thee; 20 
 Which, doubly advantaged by thy single pen. 
 In life and death now treads the stage again ; 
 And thus are we freed from that dearth of wit 
 Which starved the Land, since into schisms split. 
 Wherein th' hast done so much, we must needs 
 
 guess 25 
 
 Wit's last edition is now in the Press ; 
 For thou hast drained invention, and he 
 That writes hereafter, doth but pillage thee. 
 But thou hast plots ; and will not the Kirk strain 
 At the designs of such a tragic brain ? 
 Will they themselves think safe, when they shall 
 
 see 
 Thy most abominable policy ? 
 Will not the Ears assemble, and think fit 
 Their Synod fast, and pray, against thy wit ? 
 But they'll not tire in such an idle quest, 
 Thou dost but kill, and circumvent in jest ; 
 And when thy angered Muse swells to a blow, 
 'Tis but for Field's, or Swansteed's overthrow. 
 Yet shall these conquests of thy lays outlive 
 
 D 
 
 30
 
 34 ON SIR THOMAS BODLEY'S LI15:^\RV. 
 
 Their Scottish zeal, and compacts made to grieve 40 
 The peace of spirits : and when such deeds fail 
 Of their foul ends, a fair name is thy bale. 
 But — happy ! — thou ne'er saw'st these storms, 
 
 our air 
 Teemed with even in thy time, though seeming 
 
 fair ; 
 Thy gentle soul meant for the shade, and ease, 45 
 Withdrew betimes into the Land of Peace. 
 So nested in some hospitable shore 
 The hermit-angler, when the mid-seas roar, 
 Packs up his lines, and — ere the tempest raves — 
 Retires, and leaves his station to the waves. 50 
 
 Thus thou diedst almost with our peace, and we 
 This breathing time thy last fair issue see. 
 Which I think such — if needless ink not soil 
 So choice a Muse — others are but thy foil ; 
 This or that age may write, but never see 55 
 
 A wit that dares run parallel with thee. 
 True, Ben must live ! but bate him, and thou 
 
 hast 
 Undone all future wits, and matched the past. 
 
 ON SIR THOMAS BODLEY'S LIBRARY, 
 THE AUTHOR BEING THEN IN 
 OXFORD. 
 
 Boast not, proud Golgotha, that thou canst 
 
 show 
 The ruins of mankind, and let us know 
 How frail a thing is flesh ! Though we see 
 
 there 
 But empty skulls, the Rabbins still live here. 
 They are not dead, but full of l)lood again ;
 
 ON SIR THOMAS BODLEY S LIBRARY. 35 
 
 T mean the sense, and every line a vein. 
 Triumph not o'er their dust ; whoever looks 
 In here shall find their brains all in their books. 
 
 Nor is't old Palestine alone survives : 
 Athens lives here more than in Plutarch's 
 
 " Lives." 
 The stones which sometimes danced unto the 
 
 strain 
 Of Orpheus, here do lodge his muse again. 
 And you, the Roman spirits, Learning has 
 Made your lives longer than your empire was. 
 Csesar had perished from the world of men, ,5 
 Had not his sword been rescued by his pen. 
 Rare Seneca ! how lasting is thy breath ! 
 Though Nero did, thou couldst not bleed to 
 
 death. 
 How dull the expert tyrant was, to look 
 For that in thee, which lived in thy book ! 20 
 
 Afflictions turn our blood to ink, and we 
 Commence, when writing, our eternity. 
 Lucilius here I can behold, and see 
 His counsels and his life proceed from thee. 
 But what care I to whom thy Letters be ? 25 
 
 I change the name, and thou dost write to me ; 
 And in this age, as sad almost as thine, 
 Thy stately Consolations are mine. 
 Poor Earth ! what though thy viler dust enrolls 
 The frail enclosures of these mighty souls ? 30 
 
 Their graves are all upon record ; not one 
 But is as bright and open as the sun. 
 And though some part of them obscurely fell 
 And perished in an unknown, private cell ; 
 Yet in their books they found a glorious way 33 
 To live unto the Resurrection-day ! 
 
 Most noble Bodley ! we are bound to thee 
 For no small part of our eternity.
 
 36 DAPHNIS: 
 
 Thy treasure was not spent on horse and hound, 
 Nor that new mode, which doth old States 
 
 confound. 4<> 
 
 Thy legacies another way did go : 
 Nor were they left to those would spend them 
 
 so. 
 Thy safe, discreet expense on us did flow ; 
 Walsam is in the midst of Oxford now. 
 Th' hast made us all thine heirs ; whatever we 4s 
 Hereafter write, 'tis thy posterity. 
 This is thy monument ! Here thou shalt stand 
 Till the times fail in their last grain of sand. 
 And wheresoe'er thy silent reliques keep, 
 This tomb will never let thine honour sleep, so- 
 Still we shall think upon thee ; all our fame 
 Meets here to speak one letter of thy name : 
 Thou canst not die ! Here thou art more than 
 
 safe. 
 Where every book is thy large epitaph. 
 
 DAPHNIS: 
 
 An Elegiac Eclogue. The Interlocutors : Damon 
 and Menalcas: 
 
 Damon. 
 
 What clouds, Menalcas, do oppress thy brow, 
 Flowers in a sunshine never look so low ? 
 Is Nisa still cold flint ? or have thy lambs 
 Met with the fox by straying from their dams? 
 
 Menalcas. 
 
 Ah, Damon, no ! my lambs are safe ; and she 5. 
 Is kind, and much more white than thev can 
 be.
 
 DAPHNIS. 37 
 
 But what doth Hfe, when most serene, afford 
 Without a worm which gnaws her fairest 
 
 gourd ? 
 Our days of gladness are but short reUefs, 
 Given to reserve us for enduring griefs : lo 
 
 So smiling calms close tempests breed, which 
 
 break 
 Like spoilers out, and kill our flocks, when 
 
 weak. 
 I heard last May — and May is still high 
 
 Spring — 
 The pleasant Philomel her vespers sing. 
 The green wood glittered with the golden sun, 15 
 And all the West like silver shined ; not one 
 Black cloud [appeared] ; no rags, nor spots did 
 
 stain 
 The welkin's beauty ; nothing frowned like 
 
 rain. 
 But ere night came that scene of fine sights 
 
 turned 
 To fierce dark showers ; the air with lightnings 
 
 burned ; 20 
 
 The wood's sweet syren, rudely thus opprest, 
 Gave to the storm her weak and weary breast. 
 I saw her next day on her last cold bed : 
 And Daphnis so, just so is Daphnis, dead ! 
 
 Damon. 
 
 So violets, so doth the primrose, fall, 25 
 
 At once the Spring's pride, and its funeral. 
 Such early sweets get off still in their prime, 
 And stay not here to wear the soil of time ; 
 While coarser flowers, which none would miss, if 
 
 past. 
 To scorching Summers and cold Autumns 
 
 last. 30
 
 38 DAPHNIS. 
 
 Menalcas. 
 
 Souls need not time. The early forward things 
 Are always fledged, and gladly use their wings. 
 Or else great parts, when injured, quit the 
 
 crowd, 
 To shine above still, not behind, the cloud. 
 And is't not just to leave those to the night 35 
 
 That madly hate and persecute the light ? 
 Who, doubly dark, all negroes do exceed. 
 And inwardly are true black Moors indeed ! 
 
 Damon. 
 
 40 
 
 The punishment still manifests the sin, 
 
 As outward signs show the disease within. 
 
 While worth opprest, mounts to a nobler height, 
 
 And, palm-like, bravely overtops the weight. 
 
 So where swift Isca from our lofty hills 
 
 With loud farewells' descends, and, foaming, fills 
 
 A wider channel, like some great port-vein 45 
 
 With large rich streams to fill the humble plain : 
 
 I saw an oak, whose stately height and shade, 
 
 Projected far, a goodly shelter made ; 
 
 And from the top with thick diffused boughs 
 
 In distant rounds grew like a wood-nymph's 
 
 house. 50 
 
 How many garlands won at roundelays 
 Old shepherds hung up in those happy days 
 With knots and girdles, the dear spoils and 
 
 dress 
 Of such bright maids, as did true lovers bless. 
 And many times had old Amphion made 55 
 
 His beauteous flock acquainted with this shade ; 
 His flock, whose fleeces were as smooth and 
 
 white 
 As those the welkin shows in moonshine night.
 
 DAPHNIS. 39 
 
 Here, when the careless world did sleep, have I 
 In dark records, and numbers nobly high, 60 
 
 The visions of our black, but brightest bard 
 From old Amphion's mouth full often heard ; 
 With all those plagues poor shepherds since 
 
 have known, 
 And riddles more, which future times must own : 
 While on his pipe young Hylas played, and 
 
 made 65 
 
 Music as solemn as the song and shade. 
 But the cursed owner from the trembling top 
 To the firm brink, did all those branches lop ; 
 And in one hour, what many years had bred. 
 The pride and beauty of the plain lay dead. 70 
 
 The undone swains in sad songs mourned their 
 
 loss. 
 While storms and cold winds did increase the 
 
 cross ; 
 But nature, which — like virtue — scorns to yield. 
 Brought new recruits and succors to the field ; 
 For by next Spring the checked sap waked 
 
 from sleep, 75 
 
 And upwards still to feel the sun did creep ; 
 Till at those wounds the hated hewer made, 
 There sprang a thicker and a fresher shade. 
 
 Menalcas. 
 
 So thrives afflicted truth, and so the light 
 When put out, gains a value from the night. ^o 
 
 How glad are we, when but one twinkling star 
 Peeps betwixt clouds more black than is our 
 
 tar: 
 And Providence was kind, that ordered this, 
 To the brave suff rer should be solid bliss : 
 Nor is it so till this short life be done, 85 
 
 But goes hence with him, and is still his sun.
 
 40 DAPHNIS* 
 
 Damon. 
 
 Come, sheperds, then, and with your greenest 
 
 bays 
 Refresh his dust, who loved your learned lays. 
 Bring here the florid glories of the Spring, 
 And, as you strew them, pious anthems sing ; 90 
 Which to your children and the years to come 
 May speak of Daphnis, and be never dumb, 
 While prostrate I drop on his quiet urn 
 My tears, not gifts ; and like the poor that 
 
 mourn 
 With green but humble turfs, write o'er his 
 
 hearse 95 
 
 For false, fair prosemen this fair truth of 
 
 verse : — 
 " Here Daphnis sleeps, and while the great 
 
 watch goes 
 Of loud and restless time, takes his repose. 
 Fame is but noise ; all learning's but a thought ; 
 Which one admires, another sets at nought. 100 
 
 Nature mocks both, and Wit still keeps ado : 
 But Death brings knowledge and assurance 
 
 too." 
 
 Menalcas. 
 
 Cast in your garlands ! strew on all the flowers 
 Which May with smiles or April feeds with 
 
 showers, 
 Let this day's rites as steadfast as the sun 
 Keep pace with Time and through all ages run ; 
 The public character and famous test 
 Of our long sorrows and his lasting rest. 
 And when we make procession on the plains, 
 Or yearly keep the holiday of swains, 
 Let Daphnis still be the recorded name, 
 And solemn honour of our feasts and fame. 
 
 105
 
 DAPHNIS. 41 
 
 For though the Isis and the prouder Thames 
 Can shew his reliques lodged hard by their 
 
 streams : 
 And must for ever to the honoured name "5 
 
 Of noble Murrey chiefly owe that fame : 
 Yet here his stars first saw him, and when Fate 
 Beckoned him hence, it knew no other date. 
 Nor will these vocal woods and valleys fail, 
 Nor Isca's louder streams, this to bewail ; 120 
 
 But while swains hope, and seasons change, 
 
 will glide 
 With moving murmurs because Daphnis died. 
 
 Damon. 
 
 A fatal sadness, such as still foregoes, 
 Then runs along with public plagues and woes. 
 Lies heavy on us ; and the very light 125 
 
 Turned mourner too, hath the dull look of 
 
 night. 
 Our vales, like those of death, a darkness shew 
 More sad than cypress or the gloomy yew ; 
 And on our hills, where health with height 
 
 complied. 
 Thick drowsy mists hang round, and there 
 
 reside. 130 
 
 Not one short parcel of the tedious year 
 In its own dress and beauty doth appear. 
 Flowers hate the Spring, and with a sullen bend 
 Thrust down their heads, which to the roots 
 
 still tend. 
 And though the sun, like a cold lover, peeps 'ss 
 A little at them, still the day's-eye sleeps. 
 But when the Crab and Lion with acute 
 And active fires their sluggish heat recruit. 
 Our grass straight russets, and each scorching 
 
 day
 
 42 DAPHNIS. 
 
 Drinks up our brooks as fast as dew in May ; i4» 
 
 Till the sad herdsman with his cattle faints, 
 And empty channels ring with loud complaints. 
 
 Menalcas. 
 
 Heaven's just displeasure, and our unjust ways, 
 Change Nature's course ; bring plagues, dearth, 
 
 and decays. 
 This turns our land to dust, the skies to brass, us 
 Makes old kind blessings into curses pass : 
 And when we learn unknown and foreign 
 
 crimes. 
 Brings in the vengeance due unto those climes. 
 The dregs and puddle of all ages now. 
 Like rivers near their fall, on us do flow. 150 
 
 Ah, happy Daphnis ! who while yet the streams 
 Ran clear and w^arm, though but with setting 
 
 beams, 
 Got through, and saw by that declining Hght, 
 His toil's and journey's end before the night. 
 
 Damon. 
 
 A night, where darkness lays her chains and 
 bars, 155 
 
 And feral fires appear instead of stars. 
 
 But he along with the last looks of day 
 
 Went hence, and setting — sunlike — past away. 
 
 What future storms our present sins do hatch, ' 
 
 Some in the dark discern, and others watch ; 160. 
 
 Though foresight makes no hurricane prove 
 mild, 
 
 Fury that's long fermenting is most wild. 
 
 But see, while thus our sorrows we discourse, 
 
 Phoebus hath finished his diurnal course; 
 
 The shades prevail : each bush seems bigger 
 
 grown ; 16$
 
 DAPHNIS. 43 
 
 Darkness — like State — makes small things swell 
 
 and frown : 
 The hills and woods with pipes and sonnets 
 
 round, 
 And bleating sheep our swains drive home, 
 
 resound. 
 
 Menalcas. 
 
 What voice from yonder lawn tends hither? 
 
 Hark ! 
 'Tis Thyrsis calls ! I hear Lycanthe bark ! i?* 
 
 His flocks left out so late, and weary grown. 
 Are to the thickets gone, and there laid down. 
 
 Damon. 
 
 Menalcas, haste to look them out ! poor sheep, 
 
 When day is done, go willingly to sleep : 
 
 And could bad man his time spend as they 
 
 do, I7S 
 
 He might go sleep, or die, as willing too. 
 
 Menalcas. 
 
 Farewell ! kind Damon ! now the shepherd's 
 
 star 
 With beauteous looks smiles on us, though 
 
 from far. 
 All creatures that were favourites of day 
 Are with the sun retired and gone away. iSo 
 
 While feral birds send forth unpleasant notes, 
 And night — the nurse of thoughts — sad thoughts 
 
 promotes : 
 But joy will yet come with the morning-light. 
 Though sadly now we bid good-night ! 
 
 Damon, 
 
 Good-night !
 
 44 THE GOLDEN- AGE. 
 
 THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 \Translaied from Boethius?\ 
 
 Happy that first white age ! when we 
 
 Lived by the Earth's mere charity ; 
 
 No soft luxurious diet then 
 
 Had effeminated men ; 
 
 No other meat, nor wine had any 
 
 Than the coarse mast, or simple honey ; 
 
 And, by the parents' care laid up. 
 
 Cheap berries did the children sup. 
 
 No pompous wear was in those days 
 
 Of gummy silks, or scarlet baize. 
 
 Their beds were on some flowery brink, 
 
 And clear spring water was their drink. 
 
 The shady pine, in the sun's heat. 
 
 Was their cool and known retreat ; 
 
 For then 'twas not cut down, but stood 
 
 The youth and glory of the wood. 
 
 The daring sailor with his slaves 
 
 Then had not cut the swelling waves, 
 
 Nor, for desire of foreign store. 
 
 Seen any but his native shore. a,, 
 
 No stirring drum had scared that age, 
 
 Nor the shrill trumpet's active rage ; 
 
 No wounds, by bitter hatred made. 
 
 With warm blood soiled the shining blade ; 
 
 For how could hostile madness arm 25 
 
 An age of love to public harm, 
 
 When common justice none withstood, 
 
 Nor sought rewards for spilling blood ? 
 
 O ! that at length our age would raise 
 
 Into the temper of those days ! 30 
 
 But — worse than ^Etna's fires ! — debate 
 
 >5
 
 A SONG TO A.MORET. 45 
 
 And avarice inflame our State. 
 Alas ! who was it that first found 
 Gold, hid of purpose under ground — 
 That sought out pearls, and dived to find 
 Such precious perils for mankind ? 
 
 ♦ ■••♦ 
 
 Xovc poems. 
 
 A SONG TO AMORET. 
 
 If I were dead, and in my place 
 Some fresher youth designed 
 
 To warm thee with new fires, and grace 
 Those arms I left behind ; 
 
 2. 
 
 Were he as faithful as the sun 
 That's wedded to the sphere. 
 
 His blood as chaste and temperate run 
 As April's mildest tear ; 
 
 3- 
 
 Or were he rich, and with his heap. 
 And spacious share of earth. 
 
 Could make divine affection cheap. 
 And court his golden birth ; 
 
 4- 
 For all these arts I'd not believe, — 
 
 No, though he should be thine, — 
 The mighty amorist could give 
 
 So rich a heart as mine.
 
 46 UPON THE PRIORY GROVE. 
 
 5- 
 Fortune and beauty thou might'st find, 
 
 And greater men than I ; 
 15ut my true resolved mind 
 
 They never shall come nigh. 
 
 For I not for an hour did love, 
 
 Or for a day desire, 
 But with my soul had from above 
 
 This endless, holy fire. 
 
 UPON THE PRIORY GROVE, HIS 
 USUAL RETIREMENT. 
 
 Hail, sacred shades ! cool leafy house ! 
 Chaste treasurer of all my vows 
 And wealth ! on whose soft bosom laid 
 My love's fair steps I first betrayed : 
 Henceforth no melancholy flight. 
 No sad wing, or hoarse bird of Night, 
 Disturb this air, no fatal throat 
 Of raven, or owl, awake the note 
 Of our laid echo, no voice dwell 
 Within these leaves but Philomel. 
 The poisonous ivy here no more 
 His false twists on the oak shall score ; 
 Only the woodbine here may twine. 
 As th' emblem of her love, and mine ; 
 The amorous sun shall here convey 
 His best beams, in thy shade to play ; 
 The active air, the gentlest showers 
 Shall from his wings rain on thy flowers ; 
 And the moon from her dewy locks, 
 Shall deck thee with her brightest drops : 
 
 »5
 
 FIDA. 47 
 
 Whatever can a fancy move, 
 
 Or feed the eye : be on this grove. 
 
 And when, at last, the winds and tears 
 Of Heaven, with the consuming years. 
 Shall these green curls bring to decay, 25 
 
 And clothe thee in an aged grey : — 
 If aught a lover can foresee : 
 Or if we poets prophets be — 
 From hence transplanted, thou shalt stand 
 A fresh grove in th' Elysian land ; 3° 
 
 Where — most blest pair ! — as here on Earth 
 Thou first didst eye our growth, and birth ; 
 So there again, thou'lt see us move 
 In our first innocence and love ; 
 And in thy shades, as now, so then, 35 
 
 We'll kiss, and smile, and walk again. 
 
 EIDA: OR THE COUNTRY BEAUTY 
 TO LYSIMACHUS. 
 
 Now I have seen her, and by Cupid, 
 
 The young Medusa made me stupid ! 
 
 A face, that hath no lovers slain. 
 
 Wants forces, and is near disdain. 
 
 For every fop will freely peep 5 
 
 At majesty that is asleep. 
 
 But she — fair tyrant ! — hates to be 
 
 Gazed on with such impunity : 
 
 Whose prudent rigour bravely bears 
 
 And scorns the trick of whining tears, 10 
 
 Or sighs, those false alarms of grief. 
 
 Which kill not, but afford relief. 
 
 Nor is it thy hard fate to be 
 
 Alone in this calamity. 
 
 Since I who came but to be gone, ^^
 
 48 FIDA. ■ 
 
 Am plagued for merely looking on. 
 
 Mark from her forehead to her foot 
 What charming sweets are there to do't. 
 A head adorned with all those glories 
 That Wit hath shadowed in quaint stories : 20 
 
 Or pencil with rich colours drew 
 In imitation of the true. 
 Her hair laid out in curious sets 
 And twists, doth shew like silken nets, 
 Where, — since he played at hit or miss, — 25 
 
 The god of Love her prisoner is. 
 And, fluttering with his skittish wings, 
 Puts all her locks in curls and rings. 
 
 Like twinkling stars her eyes invite 
 All gazers to so sweet a light ; 30 
 
 But then two arched clouds of brown 
 Stand o'er, and guard them with a frown. 
 
 Beneath these rays of her bright eyes 
 Beauty's rich bed of blushes lies : 
 Blushes, which, lightning-like, come on, 35 
 
 Yet stay not to be gazed upon ; 
 But leave the lilies of her skin 
 As fair as ever, and run in : 
 Like swift salutes — which dull paint scorn — 
 'Twixt a white noon, and crimson morn. 40 
 
 What coral can her lips resemble ? 
 For her's are warm, swell, melt, and tremble : 
 And if you dare contend for red. 
 This is alive, the other dead. 
 
 Her equal teeth — above, below — 45 
 
 All of a size, and smoothness, grow. 
 Where under close restraint and awe — 
 Which is the maiden, tyrant law — 
 Like a caged, sullen linnet, dwells 
 Her tongue, the key to potent spells. 50 
 
 Her skin, like Heaven when calm and bright,
 
 TO ETESIA : THE FIRST SIGHT. 49 
 
 Shews a rich azure under white, 
 
 With touch more soft than heart supposes, 
 
 And breath as sweet as new-blown roses. 
 
 Betwixt this headland and the main, 55 
 
 Which is a rich and flowery plain, 
 Lies her fair neck, so fine and slender. 
 That — gently — how you please, 'twill bend her. 
 
 This leads you to her heart, which ta'en, 
 Pants under sheets of whitest lawn, 60 
 
 And at the first seems much distrest, 
 But, nobly treated, lies at rest. 
 
 Here, like two balls of new-fallen snow. 
 Her breasts. Love's native pillows, grow ; 
 And out of each a rose-bud peeps, 65 
 
 Which infant Beauty, sucking, sleeps. 
 
 Say now, my Stoic, that mak'st sour faces 
 At all the Beauties and the Graces, 
 That criest unclean ! though known thyself 
 To every coarse and dirty shelf: 70 
 
 Couldst thou but see a piece like this, 
 A piece so full of sweets and bliss : 
 In shape so rare, in soul so rich, 
 Wouldst thou not swear she is a witch ? 
 
 TO ETESIA (FOR TIMANDER) : THE 
 FIRST SIGHT. 
 
 What smiling star, in that fair Night 
 Which gave you birth, gave me this sight, 
 And with a kind aspect, though keen. 
 Made me the subject, you the queen ? 
 That sparkling planet is got now 
 Into your eyes, and shines below ; 
 Where nearer force, and more acute, 
 
 E
 
 5© TO ETESIA : THE FIRST SIGHT. 
 
 It doth dispense, without dispute ; 
 
 For I, who yesterday did know 
 
 Love's fire no more than doth cool snow, ' 
 
 With one bright look am since undone, 
 
 Yet must adore and seek my sun. 
 
 Before, I walked free as the wind, 
 And if but stayed — like it— unkind ; 
 I could, like daring eagles, gaze. 
 And not be blinded by a face ; 
 For what I saw, till I saw thee, 
 Was only not deformity. 
 
 Such shapes appear — compared with thine, — 
 In arras, or a tavern-sign. 
 And do but mind me to explore 
 A fairer piece, that is in store. 
 So some hang ivy to their wine, 
 To signify there is a vine. 
 
 Those princely flowers — by no storms 
 vexed — 
 Which smile one day, and droop the next : 
 The gallant tulip and the rose. 
 Emblems which some use to disclose 
 Bodied ideas : their weak grace 
 Is mere imposture to thy face. 
 For Nature in all things, but thee, 
 Did practise only sophistry ; 
 Or else she made them to express 
 How she could vary in her dress. 
 But thou wert formed, that we might see 
 Perfection, not variety. 
 
 Have you observed how the day-star 
 Sparkles and smiles and shines from far : 
 Then to the gazer doth convey 
 A silent but a piercing ray?
 
 THE CHARACTER: TO ETESIA. 5 1 
 
 So wounds my love, but that her eyes 
 Are in effects the better skies. 
 
 A brisk bright agent from the streams 
 
 Armed with no arrows, but their beams. 
 
 And with such stiUness smites our hearts, 45 
 
 No noise betrays him, nor his darts. 
 
 He, working on my easy soul, 
 
 Did soon persuade, and then control ; 
 
 And now he flies — and I conspire — 
 
 Through all my blood with wings of fire, 50 
 
 And when I would — which will be never — 
 With cold despair allay the fever : 
 The spiteful thing Etesia names, 
 And that new-fuels all my flames. 
 
 THE CHARACTER: TO ETESIA. 
 
 Go catch the phoenix, and then bring 
 
 A quill drawn for me from his wing. 
 
 Give me a maiden, beauty's blood, 
 
 A pure, rich crimson, without mud, 
 
 In whose sweet blushes that may live, 5 
 
 Which a dull verse can never give. 
 
 Now for an untouched spotless white. 
 
 For blackest things on paper write ; 
 
 Etesia at thine own expense 
 
 Give me the robes of innocence. 10 
 
 Could we but see a spring to run 
 Pure milk, as sometimes springs have done, 
 And in the snow-white streams it sheds, 
 Carnations wash their bloody heads, 
 While every eddy that came down 15
 
 52 THE CHARACTER :' TO ?:TESIA. 
 
 Did — as thou dost — both smile and frown. 
 Such objects, and so fresh, would be 
 But dull resemblances of ihee. 
 
 Thou art the dark world's morning-star, 
 Seen only, and seen but from far ; ao 
 
 Where like astronomers we gaze 
 Upon the glories of the face, 
 But no acquaintance more can have, 
 Thous;h all our lives we watch and crave. 
 Thou art a world thyself alone, ^s 
 
 Yea three great worlds refined to one. 
 Which shows all those, and in thine eyes 
 The shining East and Paradise. 
 
 Thy soul — a spark of the first fire, — 
 Is like the sun, the world's desire ; 3» 
 
 And with a nobler influence 
 Works upon all, that claim to sense ; 
 But in Summers hath no fever. 
 And in frosts is cheerful ever. 
 
 As flowers, besides their curious dress, 35 
 Rich odours have, and sweetnesses, 
 Which tacitly infuse desire, 
 And even oblige us to admire : 
 Such, and so full of innocence, 
 Are all the charms thou dost dispense, 4<> 
 
 And, like fair Nature, without arts 
 At once they seize, and please our hearts. 
 
 thou art such, that I could be 
 A lover to idolatry ! 
 
 1 could, and should from heaven stray, 45- 
 But that thy life shews mine the way. 
 
 And leave awhile the Deity 
 
 To serve His image here in thee.
 
 TO ETESIA LOOKING AT THE FULL MOON. 55 
 
 TO ETESIA LOOKING FROM HER 
 CASEMENT AT THE FULL MOON. 
 
 See you that beauteous Queen, which no age 
 
 tames ? 
 Her train is azure set with golden flames : 
 My brighter fair, fix on the East your eyes, 
 And view that bed of clouds, whence she doth 
 
 rise. 
 Above all others in that one short hour 
 Which most concerned in, she had greatest 
 
 power. 
 This made my fortune humorous as wind, 
 But fixed affections to my constant mind. 
 She fed me with the tears of stars, and thence 
 I sucked in sorrow with their influence. 
 To some in smiles and store of light she broke : 
 To me in sad eclipses still she spoke. 
 She bent me with the motion of her sphere. 
 And made me feel what first I did but fear. 
 
 But when I came to age, and had o'er- 
 grown 
 Her rules, and said my freedom was my own, 
 I did reply unto the laws of Fate, 
 And made my reason my great advocate : 
 I laboured to inherit my just right ; 
 But then — O hear, Etesia ! — lest I might 
 Redeem myself, my unkind starry mother 
 Took my poor heart, and, gave it to another. 
 
 TO ETESIA PARTED FROM HIM, AND 
 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 O SUBTLE Love ! thy peace is war ; 
 It wounds and kills without a scar.
 
 54 IN ETESIAM LACHKYMANTEM. 
 
 It works unknown to every sense, 
 
 Like to decrees of Providence, 
 
 And with strange silence shoots us through : 
 
 The fire of Love doth fall like snosv. 
 
 Hath she no (quiver, but my heart? 
 Must all her arrows hit that part? 
 Beauties, like Heaven, their gifts should deal 
 Not to destroy us, but to heal. 
 
 Strange art of Love ! that can make sound, 
 And yet exasperates the wound. 
 That look she lent to ease my heart 
 Hath pierced it, and improved the smart. 
 
 IN ETESIAM LACHKYMANTEM. 
 
 O DULCis luctus, risuque potentior omni ! 
 
 Quem decorant lachrymis sydera tanta suis. 
 Quam tacitae spirant aurae ! vultusque nitentes 
 
 Contristant veneres, collachrymantque suae! 
 Ornat gutta genas, oculisque simillima gemma : 
 
 Et tepido vivas irrigat imbre rosas. 
 Dicite Chaldaei ! quae me fortuna fatigat. 
 
 Cum formosa dies et sine nube peruit? 
 
 ON ETESIA WEEPING. 
 
 [A Trans/afion of" In Etesiam Lachryjuantem^* 
 by the Rev. James BelL'\ 
 
 O DULCET Sorrow ! stronger far than laughter 
 
 ringing. 
 With clustered stars adorned, their tears of 
 
 lustre bringing. 
 How voiceless heave thy sighs ! Thy features 
 
 softly shining
 
 ETESIA ABSENT, 55 
 
 Together weep, and dim their charms with 
 
 inward pining. 
 Tears sparkle on thy cheeks, as gems Hke iris 
 
 glowing, 5 
 
 And wash the blushing roses with their warm 
 
 rain flowing. 
 Chaldaeans ! when fair day has passed in 
 
 cloudless setting, 
 Pray tell, what fate still urges me with bootless 
 
 fretting ? 
 
 ETESIA ABSENT. 
 
 Love, the world's life ! what a sad death 
 
 Thy absence is ! to lose our breath 
 
 At once and die, is but to live 
 
 Enlarged, without the scant reprieve 
 
 Of pulse and air : whose dull returns 5 
 
 And narrow circles the soul mourns. 
 
 But to be dead alive, and still 
 To wish, but never have our will : 
 To be possessed, and yet to miss, 
 To wed a true but absent bliss : 1° 
 
 Are lingering tortures, and their smart 
 Dissects and racks and grinds the heart ! 
 As soul and body in that state 
 Which unto us, seems separate. 
 Cannot be said to live, until 15 
 
 Reunion ; which days fulfil 
 And slow-paced seasons : so in vain 
 Through hoursand minutes — Time's long train — 
 I look for thee, and from thy sight, 
 As from my soul, for life and light. zo 
 
 For till thine eyes shine so on me, 
 Mine are fast-closed, and will not see.
 
 pocni6 b^ ^honia5 IDauoban 
 
 (" EuGKNius Philaletiies.") 
 
 TO THE USK. 
 
 'Tis day, my crystal Usk : now the sad Night 
 
 Resigns her place as tenant to the Light. 
 
 See the amazed mists begin to fly, 
 
 And the victorious sun hath got the sky. 
 
 How shall I recompense thy streams that keep 5 
 
 Me and my soul awaked, when others sleep? 
 
 I watch my stars, I move on with the skies, 
 
 And weary all the planets with my eyes. 
 
 Shall I seek thy forgotten birth, and see 
 
 What days are spent since thy nativity ? 10 
 
 Didst run with ancient Kishon ? canst thou tell 
 
 So many years as holy Hiddekel ? 
 
 Thou art not paid in this : I'll levy more 
 
 Such harmless contributions from thy store, 
 
 And dress my soul by thee as thou dost pass, 15 
 
 As I would do my body by my glass : 
 
 What a clear running crystal here I find ! 
 
 Sure I will strive to gain as clear a mind, 
 
 And have my spirits freed from dross, made 
 
 light, 
 That no base puddle may alloy their flight. 20 
 
 How I admire thy humble banks ! nought's 
 
 here 
 But the same simple vesture all the year : 
 I'll learn simplicity of thee, and when
 
 AELIA L^LIA : HYANTHE. 57 
 
 I walk the streets, I will not storm at men, 
 
 Nor look as if I had a mind to cry 25 
 
 It is my valiant cloth of gold, and I. 
 
 Let me not live, but I'm amazed to see 
 
 What a clear type thou art of piety. 
 
 Why should thy floods enrich these shores, that 
 
 sin 
 Against thy liberty, and keep me in ? 3° 
 
 Thy waters nurse that rude land, which enslaves 
 And captivates thy free and spacious waves. 
 Most blessed tutors ! I will learn of those 
 To show my charity unto my foes. 
 And strive to do some good unto the poor, 35 
 
 As thy streams do unto the barren shore. 
 
 AH this from thee, my Ysca ? yes, and 
 more : 
 I am for many virtues on thy score. 
 Trust me thy waters yet : why, wilt not so ? 
 Let me but drink again, and I will go. '•" 
 
 I see thy course anticipates my plea, 
 I'll haste to God, as thou dost to the sea. 
 And when my eyes in waters drown their beams. 
 The pious imitation of thy streams, 
 May every holy, happy, hearty tear 45 
 
 Help me to run to heaven, as thou dost there. 
 
 AELIA L^LIA : HYANTHE. 
 
 It was scarce day, when all alone 
 I saw Hyanthe and her throne. 
 In fresh green damasks she was drest. 
 And o'er a sapphire globe did rest. 
 This slippery sphere when I did see, 
 Fortune, I thought it had been thee. 
 But when I saw she did present
 
 5^ AFJIA I./ELIA : HYANTHE. 
 
 A majesty more permanent, 
 
 I thought my cares not lost, if I 
 
 Should finish my discovery. lo 
 
 _ Sleepy she looked to my first sight. 
 As if she had watched all the night, j 
 And underneath her hand was spread, 
 The white supporter of her head. 
 But at my second studied view, 15 
 
 I could perceive a silent dew 
 Steal down her cheeks, lest it should stain 
 Those cheeks where only smiles should reign. 
 The tears streamed down for haste, and all 
 In chains of licpiid pearl did fall. 20 
 
 Fair sorrows ! and more dear than joys, 
 Which are but empty airs, and noise : 
 Your dro[)s present a richer prize. 
 For they are something like her eyes. 
 
 Pretty, white fool ! why hast thou been 25 
 
 Sullied with tears, and not with sin ? 
 'Tis true : thy tears, like polished skies. 
 Are the bright rosials of thy eyes. 
 But such strange Hites do them attend. 
 As if thy woes would never end. 30 
 
 From drops to sighs they turn, and then 
 Those sighs return to drops again : 
 But whiles thy silver torrent seeks 
 Those flowers that watch it in thy cheeks, 
 The white and red Hyanthe wears, 35 
 
 Turn to rose-water all her tears. 
 
 Have you beheld a Flame, that springs 
 From incense, when sweet, curled rings 
 Of smoke attend her last weak fires. 
 And she all in perfumes expires? 40 
 
 So died Hyanthe. Here, said she. 
 Let not this vial part from thee. 
 It holds my heart, though now 'tis spilled.
 
 THALIA. 59 
 
 And unto waters all distilled. 
 
 'Tis constant still : trust not false smiles ; 45 
 
 Who smiles, and weeps not, she beguiles. 
 
 Nay, trust not tears : false are the few, 
 
 Those tears are many that are true. 
 
 Trust me, and take the better choice, 
 
 Who hath my tears can want no joys. 50 
 
 THALIA. 
 
 [I turned aside to see if she [Thalia] was still asleep, but 
 she was gone, and this did not a litlle trouble me. 
 I expected her return til! the day was quite spent, 
 but she did not appear. At last, fixing my eyes 
 on that place where she sometimes rested, I dis- 
 covered certain pieces of gold, v/hich she had left 
 behind her, and hard by a paper folded like a 
 letter. These I took up, and now the night ap- 
 proaching, the evening star tinn'd in the west, when 
 taking my last survey of her flowery pillow, I 
 parted from it in this verse.] 
 
 Pretty green bank, farewell ! and mayst thou 
 
 wear 
 Sunbeams, and rose, and lilies all the year : 
 She slept on thee, but needed not to shed 
 Her gold : 'twas pay enough to be her bed. 
 Thy flowers are favourites : for this loved day 
 They were my rivals, and with her did play. 
 They found their heaven at hand, and in her 
 
 eyes 
 Enjoyed a copy of their absent skies. 
 Their weaker paint did with true glories trade. 
 And, mingled with her cheeks, one posy made. 
 And did not her soft skin confine their pride, 
 And with a screen of silk both flowers divide, 
 They had sucked life from thence, and from 
 
 her heat
 
 6o DAWN. 
 
 Borrowed a soul to make themselves complete. 
 
 O happy pillow ! Though thou art laid 
 
 even 15 
 
 With dust, she made thee up almost a heaven. 
 Her breath rained spices, and each amber ring 
 Of her bright locks strewed bracelets o'er thy 
 
 spring. 
 That earth's not poor, did such a treasure hold, 
 But thrice enriched, with amber, spice, and 
 
 gold. 20 
 
 DAWN. 
 
 Now had the Night spent her black stage, and 
 
 all 
 Her beauteous twinkling flames grew sick and 
 
 pale. 
 Her scene of shades and silence fled ; and Day 
 Dressed the young East in roses : where each 
 
 ray 
 Falling on sables, made the Sun and Night 5 
 
 Kiss in a checker of mixed clouds and light. 
 
 AN ENCOMIUM ON THE THREE 
 BOOKS OF CORNELIUS AGRIPPA, 
 KNIGHT. 
 
 Great, glorious penman ! whom I should not 
 
 name. 
 Lest I might seem to measure thee by fame : 
 Nature's apostle and her choice high-priest, 
 Her mystical and bright evangelist. 
 How am I rapt when I contemplate thee.
 
 ENCOMIUM ON THREE BOOKS OF AGRIPPA. 6l 
 
 And wind myself above all that I see ! 
 
 The spirits of thy lines infuse a fire 
 
 Like the world's soul, which make me thus aspire. 
 
 I am unbodied by thy books, and thee, 
 
 And in thy papers find my ecstasy : lo 
 
 Or if I please but to descend a strain, 
 
 Thy Elements do screen my soul again. 
 
 I can undress myself by thy bright glass, 
 
 And then resume th' enclosure, as I was. 
 
 Now I am earth, and now a star, and then is 
 
 A spirit : now a star, and earth again ; 
 
 Or if I will but ramasle [sir] all that be, 
 
 In the least moment I engross all three. 
 
 I span the Heaven and Earth, and things above, 
 
 And, which is more, join natures with their Jove. 20 
 
 He crowns my soul with fire, and there doth 
 
 shine. 
 But like the rainbow in a cloud of mine. 
 Yet there's a law by which I discompose 
 The ashes, and the fire itself disclose. 
 But in his emerald still he doth appear ; 25 
 
 They are but grave-clothes which he scatters 
 
 here. 
 Who sees this fire without his mask, his eye 
 Must needs be swallowed by the light, and die. 
 
 These are the mysteries for which I wept, 
 Glorious Agrippa, where thy language slept, 3a 
 
 Where thy dark texture made me wander far. 
 Whiles through that pathless Night I traced the 
 
 star ; 
 But I have found those mysteries, for which 
 Thy book was more than thrice-piled o'er with 
 
 pitch. 
 Now a new East beyond the stars I see, 3s 
 
 Where breaks the day of thy divinity : 
 Heaven states a commerce here with man, had he
 
 62 A STONE, AND THE STONY HEART. 
 
 But grateful hands to take, and eyes to see. 
 
 Hence you fond school-men, that high truths 
 deride, 
 And with no arguments but noise, and pride ; 40 
 You that damn all but what yourselves invent, 
 And yet find nothing by experiment ; 
 Your fate is written by an unseen hand, 
 But his three books with the three worlds shall 
 
 stand. 
 
 A STONE, AND THE STONY HEART. 
 
 I. 
 
 Lord God ! This was a stone 
 As hard as any one 
 
 Thy laws in Nature framed : 
 'Tis now a springing well, 
 And many drops can tell 
 
 Since it by art was tamed. 
 
 My God ! my heart is so, 
 'Tis all of flint, and no 
 
 Extract of tears will yield : 
 Dissolve it with Thy fire, ,0 
 
 That something may aspire, 
 
 And grow up in my field. 
 
 Bare tears Til not entreat, 
 But let Thy Spirit's seat 
 
 Upon those waters be; ,, 
 
 Then I, new-formed with light, 
 Shall move v.-ithout all night 
 
 Or eccentricity.
 
 EPITAPHIUM GULIELMI LAUD. 63 
 
 EPITAPHIUM GULIELMI LAUD EPIS- 
 COPI CANTUARIENSIS. 
 
 O FiDA tellus ! coeli depositum cape, 
 
 Neque ilium topho premas, sed amplectere. 
 Hie jacet, Lector, — serva tu lachrymas mails, — 
 Ecclesiae pharus, idemque naufragium sibi ; 
 Repumicator orbis et coeli pugil : s 
 
 Frigentis arae titio, baud ignis novus, 
 Sed angelorum flamma Manoae capax. 
 Desiste, saeclum, majus non potes nefas. 
 Lassata crux est, martyrum appendix fuit. 
 
 Quotidiana non est talis manus. lo 
 
 Liberius nemo sanguinem patriae daret 
 Si res vocassent ; nee confidentius dedit 
 Cum non vocabant, nempe curavit mori, 
 Anteitque istam, quam stabiliret fidem. 
 Sic ille coelum rapuit, et vitae tomos 15 
 
 Obliterates maculis adversae manus 
 Proprio rescripsit sanguine, innocuus simul 
 Et condemnatus ; sic citat testes Deus ! 
 
 O festus ille cinis ! et foelix miser, 
 Qui probro honores mutat, et mundi satur 20 
 
 Injuriis emit coelos, ac Stellas tenet ! 
 Fecisti probe ! fidei senex malum 
 Mors est : Ereptus vitae pugillus til)i 
 Cum diis acquirit annos, omisit diem. 
 Palles sceleste ? non habet sanum sibi 25 
 
 Cruorem, quisquis sic alienum sitit. 
 Sed non in terram fluxit, ne bibit lutum 
 Fluentem : sitiens sanguinem pulvis suum 
 
 Pulvere formatus homo est. 
 Non periit ergo. Laudis tam justae threnos 30 
 
 Nee morituras naenias hostes sui 
 
 Qui habent aures, audient. 
 Abi jam Lector, et bene discas mori.
 
 64 EPITAPH OF WILLIAM LAUD. 
 
 EPITAPH OF WILLIAM LAUR ARCH- 
 BISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 I A Translation of " Epi/aphiu/n Gidielmi Laud 
 Episcopi Cantiiariensis" b\ Rev. Canon 
 Wilton, A/. A.] 
 
 O FAITHFUL earth, receive this Heavenly trust, 
 Nor press him, but embrace him, with thy dust. 
 Here lies — (O gentle Reader keep thy tears 
 For evil men) — One who at once appears 
 The Church's lighthouse, showing dangerous 
 
 shelf, 5 
 
 And yet a destined shipwreck to himself: 
 Zealous reformer of an erring world, 
 And Heaven's own champion, with his flag 
 
 unfurled. 
 Of a cold altar, lo, a burning brand. 
 Not one of those new lights that daze the land, i» 
 But such a flame as met Manoah's eyes 
 Wherein the angel hastened to the skies. 
 Stay now thine hand, O age, it is full time. 
 Thou canst not perpetrate a greater crime. 
 The cross is wearied out, its work is done, is- 
 
 And a new list of martyrs is begun : 
 Not every day such doings greet the sun. 
 
 None would more willingly his blood 
 have given 
 To serve his country, at the call of Heaven : 
 Without such call, none did more boldly give =» 
 His blood, solicitous no more to live : 
 And so he died, and passed away before 
 That ancient Faith he laboured to restore. 
 Thus did he seize the realm of Heavenly light, 
 The Books of life permitted to re-write =5
 
 Stella's epitaph. 65 
 
 With his own martyred blood, and set them free 
 From stains impressed by envious enmity ; 
 Being innocent and yet condemned withal : 
 The God of Truth such witnesses doth call. 
 
 Blest ashes of a martyr, how they shine : 30 
 
 A happy misery is this of thine. 
 For Heavenly honours shame thou dost resign : 
 And satiated with earth's life dost buy 
 Heaven by thy wrongs and grasp the stars on 
 
 high- 
 Well hast thou fared. A death that lingers late 35 
 A foe to faith is, waiting at the gate. 
 A little handful snatched from out thy life 
 Gains thee calm years, costs thee one day of strife. 
 Turnest thou pale, O wretch? His blood 
 runs cold 
 Whoe'er another's blood would fain behold. 4° 
 
 But not into the earth his blood did flow. 
 No mud absorbs it flowing here below : 
 The dust might thirst for it, as on it ran. 
 But out of dust, 'tis written, was made man. 
 It did not perish then. His foes shall hear 45 
 
 Of holy Laud the strains, with grudging ear — 
 No dying dirges, but applauses clear. 
 Now, Reader, take thy leave with drooping eye, 
 And learn from Laud's example how to die ! 
 
 October ^th, iSg2. 
 
 STELLA'S EPITAPH. 
 
 (latin text.) 
 
 Adesto multa superum nepenthe madens 
 Ver : annus infans, primula et florens Hebe. 
 Tuusque tecum Zephyrus accedat, tui
 
 66 Stella's epitaph. 
 
 Serenus oris halitus, promus rosae : 
 
 Florum solennis fascinus, carmen potens 5 
 
 Ipsis sepulchris mortuum germen vocans. 
 
 Adstcs et Euri mitius volans ala, 
 
 Auracjue degens divite, et thure in sacro 
 
 Fumata, pennis incubet tuis Eos. 
 
 Est urna parva Stellulam mearn tenens, 10 
 Quae vos in arctum postulat typum deae. 
 Florum hue adesto, quicc^uid hie mundus parit, 
 Sui character sparsus, ac in ops icon. 
 Cognata venis viola, sanguini est rosa. 
 Natura ubique pingit in luctus meos, »5 
 
 Et tophus omnis parturit Stellae notas. 
 Sit epitaphium par hyacinthus tibi, 
 Qui flore pandens, (juas tegit tellus genas, 
 Aiacis instar al meum semper ferat, 
 Tuaeque cladis annue monens epos. 20 
 
 Visurus ora (jualia, et quales manus, 
 Amplectar albas, purpura et tinctas rosas ; 
 Tibique flores servient, spinae mihi 1 
 Si liliis adsto, dicam, hie vivit meae, 
 Et si sepulchris, hie perit Stellae color. 25 
 
 STELLA'S EPITAPH. 
 
 \^A translation of the Latin poem by Rev. Canon 
 
 Wilton, M.A.] 
 
 Moist with divine Nepenthe, Spring be here, 
 Like Hebe fresh and bright, the infant year : 
 And her own Zephyr come with her, serene 
 Breath of her mouth, with early roses seen : 
 The accustomed band of flowers, and song of bird s 
 Whose voice by dead germs e'en in tombs is 
 heard.
 
 Stella's epitaph. 67 
 
 Let Eurus too be here on milder wing, 
 And all around a breathing fragrance fling, 
 As spiced with sacred frankincense the Day 
 Breaks o'er this tomb, and broods on pinion 
 gay. 
 This little urn my darling Stella holds. 
 And bids you mark the goddess it enfolds. 
 All flowers be here that earth's rich gardens 
 
 bear. 
 Her scattered likeness and lost image fair. 
 The violet depicts her purple veins, 15 
 
 The rose the tender hue her cheek that stains. 
 Fair Nature paints my grief on every field. 
 And bank and hedgerow Stella's tokens yield. 
 The hyacinth thy special flower shall be. 
 And lift its stalk and droop its head for thee : 20 
 And as I mark its dewy cheeks I'll sigh, 
 Mourning thy beauty as the years go by. 
 To see thy matchless hands and lovely face 
 The roses white and red I will embrace. 
 Their flowers will serve as memories of thee, 25 
 Their thorns, alas, all that is left to me. 
 Stand I where lilies tall enrich the air, 
 I'll say : here lives Stella's complexion fair ; 
 And if I wander by her early tomb 
 I'll groan, lo, here it withers in the gloom ! 30 
 
 October 6th, iSg2.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 BiocRAPiiiCAi. Note. — Henry Vaughan, styled 
 "Silurist," from the fact of his being a native of the 
 country of the Siiures in South Wales, was born about the 
 year 1622, at Lower Newton on Usk, in Brecknockshire. 
 Materials for a biography of the poet are extremely scant, 
 despite the lalrours of Lyte and Grosart. The former 
 contributed a judicious and appreciative introductory- 
 memoir to his edition of the " .Sacred Poems ;" while 
 the latter, in his complete edition of Vaughan's Works, 
 has given us a Life of him, shewing considerable original 
 research and pains in the endeavour to obtain new facts. 
 Our own remarks under this heading must be confined 
 to a few leading facts. In 1638, the poet entered the 
 University of Oxford. When he left, it is not known. 
 He was an occasional visitor at the metropolis, and was a 
 student of medicine. Having taken his diploma, he 
 began to practice, about 1646, in his native county. 
 Lyte tells us : "he was twice married, and had, by his 
 first wife, two sons and three daughters, and by the 
 second, one daughter." For nearly half a century he 
 followed his profession, living for the whole or the greater 
 part of the time near Scethrog. He died in 1695, 
 ^gsd 73- For the Latin student and admirer of 
 Vaughan we here append his autobiographical poem, 
 AdPosferos ("To Posterity,") which gives a picture of 
 the natural surroundings of his birthplace, and a short 
 sketch of his life and training. The latter half of the 
 poem describes his feelings at the calamities and perturba- 
 tions of the Civil Wars. 
 
 Ad Posteros. 
 
 Diminuat ne sera dies praesentis honorem 
 Quis, qualisque fui, percipc Posteritas. 
 
 Cambria me genuit, patulis ubi vallibus errans 
 Subjacet aeriis montibus Isca pater.
 
 NOTES. 69 
 
 Jnde siiui placido suscepit maximus arte 
 
 Ilerbertus, Latiae gloria prima scholae 
 Bis ternos, illo me conducente, per annos 
 
 Profeci, et geminam contulit unus opem, 
 Ars et amor, mens atque manus certare solebant, 
 
 Nee lassata illi mensve, manusve fuit. 
 Hinc qualem cernis crevisse : sed ut mea certus 
 
 Tempora cognoscas, dura fuera, scias. 
 Vixi, divisos cum fregerat hoeresis Anglos 
 
 Inter Tysiphonas presbyteri et populi. 
 His primum miseris per amoena furentibus arva 
 
 Prostravit sanctam vilis avena rosam, 
 Turbarunt fontes, et fusis pax perit undis, 
 
 Moestaque coelestes obruit umbra dies. 
 Duret ut integritas tamen, et pia gloria, partem 
 
 Me nullam in tanta strage fuisse, scias ; 
 Credidimus nempe insonti vocem esse cruori, 
 
 Et vires quae post funera flere docent. 
 Ilinc castae, fidaeque pati me more parentis 
 
 Commonui, et lachrymis fata levare meis 
 Hinc unsquam horrendis violavi sacra procelli 
 
 Nee mihi mens unquam, nee manus atra 
 Si pius es, ne plura petas ; satur ille recedat 
 
 Qui sapit et nos non scripsimus insipidis. 
 
 Pp. 1-4. To the River Usca. — This is probalily the most 
 beautiful of the non-sacred poems of Henry Vaughan. 
 The stream ran by his own home, and on more than 
 one occasion he sang its praises, as may be seen in 
 the present volume. The little Latin poem, Ad 
 Fhiviuiii /scam, and the translation of it, following 
 this longer poem, continues the subject. The Silurist's 
 brother has also an admirable poetical address to the 
 same river. This also is given in the present volume 
 
 (P- 56). 
 
 Professor F. T. Palgrave — than whom there is no 
 more sympathetic critic of poetry in general, and of 
 the poetry of Vaughan in particular — says, in respect 
 to tlie present poem: — "Vaughan in this piece has 
 caught something of the spirit of Milton's lovely 
 song at the close of Comiis, the one addressed to 
 Sabrina ",( Y Cynnirodor, vol. xi. , pp. 199-200). 
 
 LI. 9-10. — The allusion here is to William 
 Habington, whose collection of love verses, entitled
 
 7© NOTES. 
 
 "Castara" (the poetic name of his lady), was 
 published in Vaughan's lime. 
 L. 51. — Evet : the newt. 
 
 P. 4. Ad Flm'iitm Iscam. — A worthy appendage to the 
 preceding poem. -The concluding lines, in which our 
 poet tells us he hears in the voice of the stream the 
 plaints of the slain Thracian, are surely very note- 
 worthy. 
 
 Pp. 4-5. To the River Usk. — This English version of the 
 little Latin poem has not been previously published, 
 having been specially done for the present volume. 
 It will be found to be a very close and literal 
 rendering. 
 
 IJ. 5-8.— Cf. Tennyson (The Brook):— 
 
 " For men may come and men may go. 
 But I go on for ever ;" 
 
 also Wordsworth ( The Fottnlain) :— 
 
 " 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, 
 And flow as now it flows." 
 
 Pp. 5-7. 7'he Eac^^k. — ThU is without doubt one of the 
 very finest English poems on the Ijird. Tennyson's 
 six-line fragment on the eagle cannot be compared 
 with the present piece. Palgrave speaks of the 
 "strange visionary power" of Vaughan's poem, and 
 further remarks :—" Vaughan's splendid exaggera- 
 tions shine, as we may say, by the warm light of thp 
 imagination, not the while glitter of the intellect." 
 The reader may like to compare this piece with 
 Wordsworth's treatment of the subject in his three 
 sonnets written at Dunolly Castle. 
 L. 45. — Entertain: receive. 
 
 P. 8. ToEcho.—Kv\QK\\Qx translation done expressly for 
 this volume. Sir S. E. Brydges' sonnet. Echo and 
 Silence — the last lines more especially — may be com- 
 pared with lines 1-5 of the present poem. 
 
 Pp. 9-1 1. The Charnel- House.— T>x. Grosart, in his 
 Essay on the Life and Writin^^s of Henry Vattghan, 
 speaks of this as " the most Shakesperean of the 
 Silurist's productions, that is, in single lines and
 
 NOTES. 71 
 
 epithets." We think this worth)' lover of our poet is 
 right in this, as a careful study of this deep-thoii;^^hted 
 production will convince the reader. 
 
 L. 2. Kelder — It seems uncertain what meaning 
 Vaughan intended in the use of this old word. 
 Grosart suggests it may come from " Kelde," to 
 become cold ; or " Kele," to cool. 
 
 L. 13. Eloquent silence! — Cf. Sir Walter Raleigh 
 (His/one of the World, Book v., pt. i.):— "O 
 eloquent, just, and mightie Death !" 
 
 L. 21. Air-mong,ing — Dabbling, meddling. 
 
 L. 46. Biiffe — To stammer. 
 
 L. 47. Is chap-fallen here. — Cf. Shakespeare 
 (Hamlet, Act v., Scene i) :— " Quite chap-fallen." 
 
 Pp. 13-16. IVie Ini fortunate Fortune. — This piece fitly 
 follows In Ainicuni Foeneratorevi, their subjects 
 being similar. 
 
 L. 105. Randolph — Thomas Randolph, the poet, 
 author of The Muses' Looking-Glass, etc. 
 
 Pp. 16-18. To His Friend .—In this, and the succeed- 
 ing poem. To his retired Friend, we have 
 some examples of their writer's humour, grim, and 
 occasionally having a touch of satire. 
 
 L. 31. — Dr. John Brown, in his essay on Vaughan, 
 draws special attention to this line, which he 
 considered as " of great beauty." 
 
 Pp. 19-21. lo his retired Friend. — Lines 22 and 23 
 contain local allusions : " the Crosse" (vide Grosart) 
 " stood formerly in the market-place of Brecon," and 
 the "Shire-hall" was the County Hall, which 
 stood in the same town. 
 
 L. 25. — Eighty-eight : 1588. 
 
 L. 47. — Draivers: waiters, public-houseattendants. 
 
 L. 70 — Astrophel : possibly in allusion to Spenser's 
 Elegie, or Friend s passion, for his Astrophel. 
 
 Pp. 22-23. — ^0 the best and most accomplished Couple 
 . L. 16. — tiffany: a light veil. 
 
 Pp. 23-26. An Elegy on the Death of Mr. R. W. 
 
 Who the subject of this powerful poem was, is not 
 known.
 
 72 NOTES. 
 
 Pp. 27-28. .4n Epitaph upon the Lady Elizabeth. — 
 Professor Talgrave, in speakini; of this most lender 
 .tnd Ijcautiful poem, says : " \\\ all the poetry which, 
 during the middle of the seventeenth century, touches 
 upon the deaths and calamities of the time, I know 
 none which rivals this elegy in depth of pathos, in 
 reality of sentiment." (Y CyiiiiiiroJor, Vol. xi., 
 p. 202). 
 
 Crashaw has a fine poem (To the Qiteeii, uf^on her 
 miinerons progenie), in which are some lovely lines 
 upon the subject of this Epitaph. The Lady 
 Elizabeth was born Dec. 1635, and died, aged 14, 
 of grief at her father's tragical end, Sep. 1650. 
 
 LI. 13-15. — Tears rvit'hoitt noise . . . shrill: Cf. 
 "How shrill are silent tears!" in first line of 
 Admission (Vaughan's Silex Scintillans, Part L) 
 
 Pp. 28-30. A Jihapsoay.— One of the author's early 
 productions, and descriptive of his experiences among 
 the London literati of his earlier days. We give it 
 more for the sake of the picture of the time it 
 presents, than for its literary value, which is not 
 considerable. 
 
 L. 17. — draiver : tavern waiter. 
 
 L. 43. — Cymbeline and Lnd: according to Dr. 
 Grosart "Cymbeline and Lud were statues, ox 
 images, of ancient kings of those names, which 
 formerly occupied niches in the old Lud-Gate." 
 
 LI. 50-55. Rich as his worth . . . to con- 
 sult and lie : — Julius Caesar. 
 
 L. 51. Drink it to [/«'w]— [him] ; in Grosart's 
 ed. printed he. 
 
 Pp- 31-32- OnGovihatihVs '''■Endymion." — Hurst's trans- 
 lation of the French poet Gombauld's " Endymion " 
 appeared in 1637, and made the poem known in 
 this country. Ogier de Gombauld was born 1567 ; 
 died 1666. 
 
 Pp. 32-34. Upon Mr. Fletcher's r!ays.—'Y\\& original 
 folio of Fletcher's plays appeared in 1647 ; the 
 present tribute was first published in the book 
 entitled " Olor Iscanus," and not, as stated by
 
 NOTES. 73 
 
 Vaughan's biographer Lyte, in the folio edition of 
 the plays. 
 
 L. 57. Ben — Ben Jonson, the dramatist. 
 
 Pp. 34-36. On Sir Thomas Bodley's Library.— 'ivc 
 Thomas Bodley (1544-1612) founded the Bodleian 
 Library at Oxford. For particulars of his life see 
 the biography by Ilearne, published in 1703. 
 
 Pp. 36-43. Dapknis. — This elegy was written on the 
 death of Thomas Vaughan (" Eugenius Philalethes,") 
 brother of the Silurist, which took place in 1665. 
 He was buried, it is said, at Albury. 
 
 Lyte included the present piece in his " Aldine" 
 edition of our worthy's " Sacred" poems. A 
 " sacred " poem it is not, and by virtue of its 
 undoubted merit it finds a place in this anthology of 
 his "Secular" poems. 
 
 L. 156. Feral Jires — Funereal fires or tapers. 
 
 L. 181. Feral birds — Doleful birds 
 
 Pp. 44-45. l^ie Golden Age.— Thh is a translation of 
 Metrum 5 of Lib. 2 of Boethius, and is probably 
 the best representation of Vaughan's English 
 versions of that classic author. 
 
 [The following is inserted here as an additional 
 felicitous example of Henry \'aughan's translations : — 
 
 \_Translation of the Polish poet Casimir Serbieviiis' twenty- 
 eighth Ode of Book IK] 
 
 Let not thy youth and false delights 
 Cheat thee of life ; those heady flights 
 But waste thy time, which posts away 
 Like winds unseen, and swift as they. 
 Beeuty is but mere paint, whose dye 
 With Time's breath will dissolve and fly ; 
 'Tis wax, 'tis water, 'tis a glass. 
 It melts, breaks, and away doth pass. 
 'Tis like a rose which in the dawn 
 The air with gentle breath doth fawn 
 And whisper to, but in the hours 
 Of night is sullied with smart showers. 
 Life spent is w ished for but in vain. 
 Nor can past years come Ijack again.
 
 74 notp:s.' 
 
 Happy the man ! who in this vale 
 Redeems his time, sluitlin;:; nut all 
 Thoui^hls of the woild ; whose longing eyes 
 Are ever pilgrims in the skies ; 
 That views liis bright home, and desires 
 To shine amongst those glorious fires.] 
 
 Pp. 45-55. Love Forms. — Many of our poet's earlier 
 love verses have some of the faults of the bulk of the 
 Erotic poetry of his day : they are artificial. He 
 soon, however, became more natural, and there is^ 
 true feeling underlying his later pieces of this class. 
 A Song (0 Amoret (p. 45) is the very embodiment of 
 noble and manly feeling. 
 
 r. 45. A Sotig to Amoret, 11. 19-20. — A MS. copy of 
 this in the British Museum furnishes the following, 
 variation of text : — 
 
 " But with my true steadfast minde 
 None can pretend to vie." 
 
 Pp. 46-47. — 6/^(7;; t/ie Pnoiy Groz'C.—The "Priory 
 Grove" is said by Grosart to have been at the 
 " Priory," Cardigan, the seat of James Philips, Esq., 
 whose wife, Kalherine, was one of the friends of 
 Henry \'aughan. 
 
 Pp. 47-49. Fida : or, the Country Beauty. — This is one 
 of our poet's later, and finer, love pieces. Professor 
 Palgrave, remarking on lines 23-28, very dis- 
 criminatingly observes: "Often as the poets, in 
 their gay flattery, have dwelt on the bright tresses- 
 of some beauty, and compared them to a net to 
 catch the heart of man, or even Cupid himself, — I 
 know- none who have rendered the idea with more 
 charming felicity" ( Y Cyiimirodor, Vol. xi. , p. 205). 
 
 With lines -23-28 of this poem may be compared 
 lines 15-20 of the one on St. Mary A/ardalen, in 
 second jiart of Si/ex Se/nt/V/aus. 
 
 LI. 63-65.— Cf. Fletcher (77ie Bloody Brotha\ 
 Act v., Scene 2) : — 
 
 " Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow 
 Which thy frozen bosom bears, 
 On whose lops the pinks that grow, 
 Are of those that A}iril wears !"
 
 NOTES. 75 
 
 Pp. 49-55- — Professor Palgrave (in i' C^iiiiiiroJor, 
 vol. xi., p. 207), speaking of these poems on Elesia, 
 says that \'aughan is here "seen at his best in tliis " 
 style," and continues : — " If he has not the finish, 
 the airy touch of Herrick or Carcw, he has a 
 deeper sentiment, a more imaginative quality." 
 
 Pp. 54-55. On Etesia IVeeptJii:: — This translation of the 
 Latin poem In Etesiain Lachrymaiitem is here 
 printed for the first time, having been expressly done 
 for this anthology. It will be found as literal as is 
 consistent with poetic art. 
 
 Biographical Note on Thomas Vaughan 
 ("EUGENIUS Phii.alethes.") — Thomas Vaughan was 
 the twin-brother of the Silurist, and at an early age he 
 went to Oxford University along with his brother. There 
 is no history of his University career. On his leaving 
 Oxford he was presented with the living of his native 
 parish, Llansaintfread. He was then in close proximity 
 to his brother. At the close of the Civil Wars he lost his 
 living, having been on the side of the King, and having 
 even fought for him. On being ejected, he retired to 
 Oxford, and spent the remainder of his life mainly there. 
 "He was," says Wood {Aihen. Oxon., ed. by Bliss, 
 vol. iii), "a great chymist, a noted son of the fire, an 
 experimental philosopher, a zealous brother of the Rosie- 
 Crucian fraternity, an understander of some of the 
 Oriental languages, and a tolerable good English and 
 Latin poet." His patron was .Sir Robert Murray, 
 Secretary of State for Scotland. His end came February 
 27th, 1665, and it has been said that he was buried at 
 Albury, but the registers of the place supply no informa- 
 tion on this point. (See the Silurist's pastoral elegy, 
 Daphnis, 11. 113-I16, which was written on his brother's 
 death). His mystical writings, of which there are a large 
 number, arc studied even at this day. Dr. Grosart, in 
 his "Memorial-Introduction," names eleven separate 
 publications by our worth)'. Thomas Vaughan's poems, 
 English and Latin, are very little known. From the 
 selection here given, let the reader decide whether any of 
 them were worthy of being reprinted. 
 
 Pp. 56-57. To the Usk. — Compare with this the poem by 
 the Silurist (pp. 1-4) addressed to the same river.
 
 76 NOTES.' 
 
 LI. 17-18.— These lines are an anticipation, as 
 Giosart points out, of the following— C// the 
 Thames— m .Sir John Denham's Coope>'s Hill : — 
 
 "O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream 
 My great example, as it is my theme ! 
 Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull ; 
 Strong without rage, without o'erllowing, full." 
 From Anima Magica Ahscondita {1650). 
 
 Pp- 57-59- ^iJia Lalia: Hyanthe.—U. 19-40 may be 
 compared with Crashaw's treatment of the same 
 subject— a lady weeping. There are several points 
 of resemblance, and both poets in dealing with this 
 subject were fond of conceits. (.See Richard 
 Crashaw's St. Mary Magdalene; or, the IVeeper, 
 pp. 27-35 of " Poems of Richard Crashaw," com- 
 piled by the present editor.) 
 From Jl/ag/a Adaniica (1650). 
 
 Pp. 59-60. Thalia.— V. 59, tinu\l: kindled. 
 From Lic/iien de Lmniiie (1651). 
 
 P. 60. Dawn.—T\v^ process of dawn has been described 
 by many of our modern bards, and Thomas 
 Vaughan's poem, we think, will compare favourably 
 with the best passages of Shelley and Wordsworth 
 describing the birth of day. 
 
 From Liitnen de Lin nine (1651). 
 
 Pp. 60-62. On the Three Books of Agrippa.—h. remark- 
 able poem, as the reader will see. It was originally 
 contributed to "Three Books of Occult Philosophy, 
 vifritten by Henry Cornelius Agrippa, etc., i65i."_ 
 
 L. 17. Ramasle — May be a misprint. It is im- 
 possible to s.ay with certainty what the author meant 
 by it. 
 
 P. 62. A Stone and the Stony Heart.— Yxqvo. Anthropo- 
 sophia Theoniagica (1650). 
 
 Pp. 63, 65-66.— Thomas Vaughan's Latin poems were 
 originally published 1678, the title-page being as 
 follows:— "EuGENii Philai.eiiiis, A'iri Insign- 
 issiMi Et POETARUM Sui SkcuH, merito Principis : 
 Vertumnus et Cynthia, etc. [Latin motto.]
 
 NOTES. 77 
 
 Londini, Impensis Roberti Pawlett, m.dc. lxxviii." 
 This was a continuation of Thalia Rediviva (see 
 Bibliography of Henry Vaughan^ s Poems, p. 78) 
 forming pp. 77-93 of that vokime. 
 
 P. d"}). Epitaphiwn Giilielmi Land. — Laud was born 
 October 7, 1573, and beheaded January 10, 1645. 
 His JVorl's were published 1857-1860, and the best 
 lifeof him is that in Hook's Archbishops of Canterbury. 
 
 Pp. 64-65. Epitaph of William Laud. — This translation 
 of the Latin Poem has not previously been published, 
 having been done specially for the present publication, 
 by one who is well known and appreciated as the 
 translator of many of the Latin productions of George 
 Herbert, Richard Crashaw, and other old English 
 Poets. 
 
 Pp. 66-67. Stella's Epitaph (translation). — This, as well 
 as the Epitaph of William Laud, is here first 
 presented to admirers of Thomas Vaughan's poetry. 
 LI. 14-16. — Cf. Shakespere {Cymbeline, Act v., 
 Sc. ii.):— 
 
 " Thou shalt not lack 
 The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
 The azured harebell, like thy veins." 
 
 LI. 24-26— Cf. Burns (" Fe banks and braes (?' 
 bonie Doon," last line) : — 
 
 "But, ah ! he left the thorn wi' me."
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POEMS OF 
 HENRY VAUGHAN, SILURIST. 
 
 I. Toems, wiih llic tenth Satyre of Juvenal Englished. 
 
 By Henry Vaughan, Gent. . . . rrinted for G. 
 Badger . . . 1646. [i2mo.] 
 
 II. Silex Scintillans ; or, Sacred Poems and Private 
 
 Ejaculations, by Henry Vaughan, Silurist. London, 
 Printed by J. W., for H. Blunden . . . 1650. 
 [i2mo.] 
 
 [Re-issued in 1655 with Part second. See No. 
 IV.] 
 
 III. Olor Iscanus. A collection of some Select Poems 
 and Translations, Formerly written by Mr. Henry 
 Vaughan, Silurist. Published by a Friend. . . . 
 London, printed by T. W. , for Humphrey Moseley 
 
 • • • ?^5i- 
 
 [This was re-issued in 1679, with a fresh title page, 
 
 by " Peter Parker, at the Leg and Star, in 
 Cornhill."] 
 
 IV. Silex Scintillans : Sacred Poems and Private 
 Ejaculations. The second edition in two books. By 
 Henry Vaughan, Silurist. . . . London, Printed 
 by Henry Crips and Lodowick Lloyd, 1655. 
 [i2mo.] 
 
 [Part I. of this volume appeared first in 1650, and 
 the unsold copies of it were used for this — the 
 1655 edition]. 
 
 V. Thalia Rediviva : the Pass-times and Diversions of a 
 
 Countrey Muse. In choice poems on several 
 occasions. With some Learned Remains of the 
 Eminent Eugenius Philalethes. Never made public 
 till now. . . . London. Printed for Robert Pawlett 
 . . . 167S. [lamo.] 
 
 VI. Silex Scintillans : Sacred Poems and Private Ejac-
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY OF HRNRY VAUGHAN's POEMS. 79 
 
 Illations of Henry Vaughan, with Memoir Ijy Rev. 
 H. F. Lyte. London: William Pickering, 1847. 
 [i2mo.] 
 VII. The Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations of 
 Henry Vaughan, with a Memoir by the Rev. H. F. 
 Lyte. Boston [U.S.A.]: Little, Brown and 
 Company, 1856. [cr. Svo.] 
 [A reprint of No. VL] 
 
 VHL Silex Scintillans, etc. : Sacred Poems and Private 
 Ejaculations, by Henry Vaughan. London : Bell 
 and Daldy, 1858. 
 
 [A reprint of No. VL, but with "as many of the 
 poems as possible verified and corrected by the 
 original editions." This edition includes the 
 memoir by the Rev. H. F. Lyte.] 
 
 IX. [Fuller Worthies Library]. The Works in Verse 
 and Prose complete, of Henry Vaughan, Silurist. 
 For the first time collected and edited . . . l)y Rev. 
 A. B. Grosart. In four volumes. Printed for 
 private circulation, 1871. 
 
 [Edn. limited to 312 copies; 50 in 4to. ; 106 in 
 Svo. ; 156 in i2mo.] 
 
 X. Silex Scintillans, etc. : Sacred Poems and Private 
 
 Ejaculations, by Henry Vaughan, "Silurist," with a 
 memoir, by the Rev. H. F. Lyte. London : George 
 Bell and Sons, 1883. [Fcap 8vo]. 
 
 [A reprint of the edition of 1858— No. VIII. —with 
 the text again revised by a comparison with the 
 original editions]. 
 
 XI. Silex Scintilkins. Sacred Poems and Private 
 Ejaculations, by Henry Vaughan (Silurist). Being a 
 facsimile of the First Edition, published in 1650, 
 with an Introduction by the Rev. William Clare, 
 B.A. (Adelaide). London: Elliot Stock, 62, 
 Paternoster Row. 1885. [i2mo.]
 
 INDEX 
 
 TO PERSONS, PLACES, NOTICEABLE THOUGHTS, 
 ETC., IN THE POEMS. 
 
 y^itna, 6 
 
 Agrippa (Cornelius), 60-62 
 
 Alexander, Emperor, " thought the world too strait," lO 
 
 Allegory of Gombauld's Endyinioii, 32 
 
 Amphion, 38-39 
 
 Angler, the hermit-, 34 
 
 Astrophel, 21 
 
 Athens lives in the Bodleian Library, 35 
 
 Ausonius, i 
 
 Beaumont (Francis), Dramatist, 33 
 
 Bell (Rev. J-), translations by, 4, 8, 54 
 
 Bodley (Sir Thomas), 34-36 
 
 Brecknockshire, Vales of, 41 
 
 Brecon, the Cross at, 19; the Shire-hall at, 19 
 
 Brennus, 19 
 
 Brundusium, 30 
 
 Cresar immortal by his writings, 35 
 
 Carnations, 51 
 
 Castara, Ilabington's love, i 
 
 Cedar tree in a storm, 24 
 
 Charles the First referred to, 20 
 
 Chloris, 21 
 
 Coelia, 21 
 
 Crab and Lion clusters of stars, 41 
 
 Cross, the, at Brecon, 19 
 
 Cupid ("the god of Love,") 48 
 
 Cypress, 41 
 
 Cyrus tamed the Macedon, 10 
 
 Damon, interlocutor in Daphnis, 36-43 
 Daphne's lover, i
 
 INDEX. 8 1 
 
 Daphnis (Thomas Vaughan), 36-43 
 
 Day-star, the, 50 
 
 Dawn, description of, 60 
 
 Death, 9-10 
 
 Death able to immure an Atheist's thoughts, 9 
 
 Death brings knowledge, 40 
 
 Death, " eloquent silence " of, 9 
 
 Death, lingering, " a foe to faith," 65 
 
 Deity, the emanations of the, 15 
 
 Diana ("the silent Queen,") 31 
 
 Diophania, the tale of, 31 
 
 Domitian, 20 
 
 Echo, goddess of the grove, 8 
 Elm tree in a storm, 24 
 Etesia in tears, 55 
 Eurotas, banks of, 31 ; river, i 
 Eurus, 67 
 
 Fame is but noise, 40 
 
 Fairies, the life of, 31 
 
 Fancy wraps in clouds, 14 
 
 Fida described, 47-49 
 
 Field (Nathaniel?), Dramatist, 33 
 
 Fletcher (John), Dramatist, 32-34 
 
 Foods of man in the Golden Age, 44 
 
 Fortunatus, a, 14 
 
 Fortune addressed, 13-16 
 
 Fortune's wealth refused, 16 
 
 Gauls, the, 19 
 
 Gold the restorer of wit, 1 1 
 
 Golgotha, 34 
 
 Gombauld's Endymion immortal, 32 
 
 Gombauld, the muse of, 31-32 
 
 Guiana, buy, 16 
 
 Habington's " Castara," i 
 Hare, " Orion's fearful," 7 
 Ilesper's rays, noons mild as, 3 
 Hiddekel, River, 56 
 Hyacinths, sad, 5 
 Hyacinth, the, 67 
 Hyanthe on her throne, 57-58
 
 82 INDEX. 
 
 ITyanthe's tears, 58 
 Ilylas, the music of, 39 
 
 Isca [see under Usli] 
 
 Isca (Usk) River, addressed, 2 
 
 Isis, River, 41 
 
 Isniena, 31 
 
 Ivy, " the poisonous," 46 
 
 Jonson (Ben), Dramatist, 34 
 Jove, his avarice bequeathed to, 15 
 Jove, the thunder of, 6 
 
 Kishon, River, 56 
 
 Latmos, 31 
 
 Laud (William), Archbishop of Canterbury, 63-65 
 
 Laura and Petrarch, I 
 
 Lawyers have a trick to cut Poets, 16 
 
 Learning, 40 
 
 London, Fleet Street, 29; Ludgate, 29; Strand, 29 
 
 Tower Wharf, 29 
 Love, art of, 54 
 Love's peace is war, 53 
 Lucilius : his Counsels and Letters, 35 
 Lycanthe, 43 
 Lycoris, fair, 29 
 
 Manoah, 64 
 
 Mars, his rashness legacied to, 15 
 
 May, high Spring, 37 
 
 Menalcas, interlocutor in Daplinis, 36-43 
 
 Men, " the piteous score of erring," 10 
 
 Mercury, his subtilties imparted to witty, 15 
 
 Mirth, damn not, il 
 
 Money, 11- 13 
 
 Moon, the, 53 
 
 Moon, the, " deals most in dark and shade," 6 
 
 Mosella and Ausonius, i 
 
 Murrey (Sir Robert), 41 
 
 Narcissus in fight with death, 8 
 
 Nature mourns the death of Daplinis, 41-42 
 
 Nature's profuse gifts to I'oets, 17
 
 INDEX. 83 
 
 Nature, grosser, cast off, 14-15 
 
 Nero, the Emperor, 35 
 
 Newt ("evet,") the, 3 
 
 Night, 43 
 
 Nightingale (" Philomel,") 46 
 
 Nightingale's song in sunshine and storm, 37 
 
 Noons as mild as Hesper's rays, 3 
 
 Nymphs, "those waggish," 12 
 
 Oak, "a stately," 38 
 
 Orpheus, 35 
 
 Orpheus, Nature's child, i 
 
 Orpheus, the plaints of, 5 
 
 Oxford, Bodleian Library at, 34-36 ' 
 
 Palestine, 35 
 
 Parnassus, 12 
 
 Periardes, 31 
 
 Petrarch and Laura, i 
 
 Plutarch's "Lives," 35 
 
 Poets, 16-18 
 
 Poets hallow the places in which they live, i 
 
 Poets, haunters of streams, I 
 
 Poets ill-rewarded, 17 
 
 Poets, the poverty of, 16-17 
 
 Poets : the regions they pass to, 2' 
 
 Primrose, death of the, 37 
 
 Pythagoras' Ox, 19 
 
 Quibbles, poets feign, 18 • 
 
 Randolph, Thomas, 16 
 
 Raven, the, 46 
 
 Rose-bud, a, "born in snow," 27 
 
 Roses, 67 
 
 Roses couple heads, 3 
 
 Rose, the, 22, 50 
 
 Sabrin, i 
 
 Saturn, his false magic gives to, 15 
 
 Sea, the, 5-6 
 
 Seneca, rare, 35 
 
 Shades ever green, 2 
 
 Sidney, Sir Philip, I
 
 84 INDKX.- 
 
 Sighs, the "alarms of grief," 47 
 
 Snake, the, 3 
 
 Sorrows more dear than joys, 58 
 
 Sorrow stronger than laughter, 54 
 
 Souls, great and good, die early, 38 
 
 Spring; 39, 40 
 
 Spring and its " band of flowers," 66 
 
 Spring, the odours of, 3 
 
 Springs, a, progress to the brook, 2^ 
 
 Stella, 65-67 
 
 Stella, Sidney's, i 
 
 Stoic, a, 49 
 
 Streams haunted by poets, I 
 
 Sun, Eagle makes the, his glass, 6 
 
 Swanstced, 33 
 
 Swan, the starry, 7 
 
 Sylla, brave, 30 
 
 Tears, false, are the few, 59 
 
 Tears, true, are the many, 59 
 
 Tears, shrill, 27 
 
 Tears, tiic, of Hyanthe, 58 
 
 Thessaly, 2 
 
 Throne of Ilyanthe, 58 
 
 Thyrsis, 43 
 
 Thames, the River, i, 41 
 
 Time, the watch of, 40 
 
 Toad, the, 3 
 
 Truths that lie in allegory, 32 
 
 Tulip, the gallant, 50 ^ 
 
 Turtle's voice, the, 3 
 
 Twilight, description of, 42-43 
 
 Usk (" Isca,") the river, 38, 41, 56 
 
 Usk, Latin poem ("Ad Fluvium ") addressed to, 4; 
 
 translation of, 4 
 Usk, the, his tutor, 57 
 Usk, wishes for the, 2-4 
 
 Venus, his fond affections to, 15 
 Violets, death of, 37 
 Violet, the, 67 
 
 Walsingham ("Walsam,") Oxford, 36
 
 INDEX. 85 
 
 Winter's frost, 21 
 
 Woodbine, the emblem of love, 46 
 
 Wood, description of a, 8 
 
 Wilton (Rev. Canon), translations by, 64, 66 
 
 Wine and its effects, 30 
 
 Wit transmigrates, 33 
 
 Years, calm, gained by " otie day of strife," 65 
 Yew, the gloomy, 41 
 Ysca [see under (7s/i]
 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 I'AGE 
 
 Adesto multa superum nepenthe madens, - - 65 
 
 Bless me ! what damps are here ! how stifi" an air, - 9 
 
 Blessings as rich and fragrant crown your heads, - 22 
 
 Boast not, proud Golgotha : that thou canst show, - 34 
 
 Darkness and stars i' th' mid-day ! They invite, - 28 
 
 Diminuat no sera dies praesentis honorem, - - 68 
 
 For shame desist, why shouldst thou seek my fall? - 13 
 
 Go catch the ph(t;nix, and then liring - - - 51 
 
 Great glorious.'penman ! whom I should not name, - 60 
 
 Hail, sacred shades ! cool leafy house ! - - - 46 
 
 Happy that first white age ! when we, - - -44 
 
 I am confirmed, and so much wing is given, - - 23 
 
 If I were dead, and in my place, - - - "45 
 
 I knew thee not, nor durst attendance strive, - - 32 
 
 Isca parens florum, placido qui spumeus ore, - - 4 
 
 It was scarce day, when all alone, - - - - 57 
 
 I've read thy soul's fair night-piece, and have seen - 31 
 
 I wonder, James, through the whole history, - - 16 
 
 Let not thy youth and false delights, - - -73 
 
 Lord God ! This was a stone - - - - 62 
 
 Love, the world's life ! what a sad death, - - 55 
 
 Moist with divine nepenthe, Spring be here, - - 66 
 
 Now had the Night spent her l)lack stage, and all - 60 
 
 Now I have seen her ; and by Cupid, - - - 47 
 
 O dulcet Sorrow ! stronger far than laughter ringing 54 
 
 O dulcis luctus, risuque potentior omni ! - - - 54 
 
 O faithful earth, receive this Heavenly trust, - - 64 
 
 O fida tellus ! coeli depositum cape - - - -63 
 
 O quae frondosae per amoena cubilia sylvae - - 7 
 
 O subtle Love ! thy peace is war ; - - - - 53 
 
 O volant Nymph, that through the dim sweet glades 8 
 
 Pretty green bank farewell ! and mayst thou wear - 59 
 
 See you that beauteous Queen, which no age tames, - 53
 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 87 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Since last we met, thou and thy horse, — my dear, - 19 
 
 Thanks, mighty Silver ! I rejoice to see, - - - II 
 
 'Tis day, my crystal Usk : now the sad Night, - 56 
 
 'Tis madness sure ; and I am in the fit, - - - 5 
 Usk, bringer of flowers ! who, with placid foam-white 
 
 lip, 4 
 
 What clouds, Menalcas, do oppress thy brow, - - 36 
 
 What smiling star in that fair Night, - - - 49 
 
 When Daphne's lover here first wore the bays, - I 
 
 Youth, beauty, virtue, innocence, - - - - 27 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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