Millions Her aduance VVhat numbers with Her enter â—…n this Dance VVith those which are to come shall Heauens them staye And All 's faire Order breake thee to obaye Euen as thy Birth Death which thee doth appall A Piece is of the Life of this great All. Strong Cities die die doe high palmie Raignes And weakling thou thus to bee handled plaines If shee bee dead then shee of lothsome Dayes Hath past the Line whose Length but Losse bewrayes Then shee hath lefâ—… this filthie Stage of Care VVhere Pleasure seldome Woe doth still repaire For all the Pleasures which it doth containe Not conteruaile the smallest Minutes Paine And tell mee Thou who dost sâ—… much admire This litle Vapour Smoake this Sparke or Fire VVhich Life is call'd what doth it thee bequeath But some few Yeeres which Birth drawes out to Death VVhich if thou paragone with Lusters runne And them whose Carriere is but now begunne In Dayes great Vaste they shall farre lesse appeare Than with the Sea when matched is a Teare But why wouldst thou Her longer wish to bee One Yeere doth serue all Natures Pompe to see Nay euen one Day and Night This Moone that Sunne Those lesser Fires about this Round which runne Bee but the same which vnder Saturnes Raigne Did the serpenting Seasons enterchaine How oft doth Life grow lesse by liuing long And what excelleth but what diâ—…th yong For Age which all abhorre yet would embrace Whiles makes the Minde as wrinckled as the Face And when that Destinies conspire with Worth That Yeeres not glorie Wrong Life soone goes forth Leaue then Lâ—…nts and thinke thou didst not liue Lawes to that fiâ—…st eternall Câ—…use to giue But to obey those Lâ—…wes which hee hath giuen And bow vnto the just Decrees of Heauen Which can not erre wâ—…at euer foggie Mists Doe blinde Men in these sublunarie Lists But what if shee for whom thou spend'st those Grones And wastest Lifes deare Torch in ruethfull Mones Shee for whose sake thou hat'st the joyfull Light Court'st solitarie Shades and irkesome Night Doth liue ô if thou canst through Teares a Space Lift thy dimm'd Lights and looke vpon this Face Looke if those Eyes which foole thou didst adore Shine not more bright than they were wont before Looke if those Roses Death could ought impaire Those Roses to thee once which seem'd so faire And if these Lockes haue lost ought of that Gold VVhich earst they had when thou them didst behold I liue and happie liue but thou art dead And still shalt bee till thou be like mee made Alas whilst wee are wrapt in Gownes of Earth And blinde heere sucke the Aire of Woe beneath Each thing in Senses Ballances wee wie And but with Toyle and Paine the Trueth descrie Aboue this waste and admirable Frame This Temple visible which World wee name VVithin whose Walles so many Lamps doe burne So many Arches opposite doe turne VVhere Elementall Brethren nurse their Strife And by intestine Warres maintaine their Life There is a World a World of perfect Blisse Pure immateriall bright more farre from this Than that high Circle which the rest enspheares Is from this dull ignoble Vale of Teares A World where all is found that heere is found But further discrepant than Heauen and Ground It hath an Earth as hath this World of yours VVith Creatures peopled stor'd with Trees and Flowrs It hath a Sea like Saphire Girdle cast VVhich decketh of harmonious Shores the Waste It hath pure Fire it hath delicious Aire Moone Sunne and Starres Heauens wonderfully faire But there Flowrs doe not fade Trees grow not olde The Creatures doe not die through Heat nor Colde Sea there not tossed is nor Aire made blacke Fire doth not nurse it selfe on others Wracke There Heauens bee not constrain'd about to range For this World hath no neede of any Change The Minutes grow not Houres Houres rise not Dayes Dayes make no Months but euer-blooming Mayes Heere I remaine and hitherward doe tend All who their Spanne of Dayes in Vertue spend VVhat euer Pleasure this low Place containes It is a Glance but of what high remaines Those who perchance thinke there can nothing bee VVithout this wide Expansion which they see And that nought else mounts Starres Circumference For that nought else is subject to their Sense Feelâ—… such a Case as one whom some Abisme Of the Deepe Ocean kept had all his Time VVho borne and nourish'd there can scarcely dreame That ought can liue without that brinie Streame Cannot beleeue that there be Temples Towres VVhich goe beyond his Caues and dampish Bowres Or there bee other People Manners Lawes Than them hee fiâ—…ds within the roaring Waues That sweetâ—…r Flowrs doe spring than grow on Rockes Or Beasts bee which excell the skalie Flockes That other Elements bee to bee found Than is the Water and this Ball of Ground But thinke that Man from those Abismes were brought And saw what curious Nature here hath wrought Did see the Meads the tall and shadie Woods The Hilles did see the cleare and ambling Floods The diuerse Shapes of Beasts which Kinds foorth bring The feathred Troupes that flie and sweetly sing Did see the Palaces the Cities faire The Forme of humane Life the Fire the Aire The brightnesse of the Sunne that dimmes his Sight The Moone the gastly Splendors of the Night VVhat vncouth Rapture would his Minde surprise How would hee his late-deare Resort despise How would hee muse how foolish hee had beene To thinke nought bee but what hee there had seene VVhy did wee get this high and vaste Desire Vnto immortall things still to aspire VVhy doth our Minde extend it beyond Time And to that highest Happinesse euen clime If wee be nought but what to Sense wee seeme And Dust as most of Worldlings vs esteeme Wee bee not made for Earth though here wee come More than the Embryon for the Mothers Wombe It weepes to bee made free and wee complaine To leaue this loathsome Iayle of Care and Paine But thou who vulgare Foot-steps dost not trace Learne to raise vp thy Minde vnto this Place And what Earth-creeping Mortalles most affect If not at all to scorne yet to neglect O chase not Shadowes vaine which when obtain'd VVere better lost than with such Trauell gain'd Thinke that on Earth which Humanes Greatnesse call Is but a glorious Title to liue thrall That Scepters Diadems and Chaires of State Not in themselues but to small Mindes are great How those who loftiest mount doe hardest light And deepest Falls bee from the highest Hight How Farne an Eccho is how all Renowne Like to a blasted Rose ere Night falles downe And though it something were thinke how this Round Is but a litle Point which doth it bound O leaue that Loue which reacheth but to Dust And in that Loue eternall only trust And Beautie which when once it is possest Can only fill the Soule and make it blest Pale Enuie jealous Emulations Feares Sighs Plaints Remorse here haue no
Death Sleepes Brother bee And Soules relieu'd of Sense haue so sweete Dreames That I would wish mee thus to dreame and die SON I Curse the Night yet doth from Day mee hide The Pandionian Birds I tyre with Mones The Ecchoes euen are weari'd with my Grones Since Absence did mee from my Blisse diuide Each Dreame each Toy my Reason doth affright And when Remembrance reades the curious Scroule Of pass d Contentments caused by her Sight Then bitter Anguish doth inuade my Soule While thus I liue ecclipsed of her Light O mee what better am I than the Mole Or those whose Zenith is the only Pole Whose Hemispheare is hid with so long Night Saue that in Earth he rests they hope for Sunne I pine and finde mine endlesse Night begunne SON OF Death some tell some of the cruell Paine Which that bad Crafts-man in his Worke did trie When a new Monster Flames once did constraine A humane Corps to yeeld a brutish Crie Some tell of those in burning Beds who lie For that they durst in the Phlegraean Plaine The mightie Rulers of the Skie defie And siege those christall Toâ—…res which all containe An other countes of Phlegethons hote Floods The Soules which drinke Ixions endlesse Smart And his to whom a Vulture eates the Heart One telles of Specters in enchanted Woods Of all those Paines he who the woâ—…st would proue Let him bee absent and but pine in Loue. MAD. TRitons which bounding diue Through Neptunes liquide Plaine When as yee shall arriue With tilting Tides where siluer Ora playes And to your King his watrie Tribute payes Tell how I dying liue And burne in midst of all the coldest Maine SON PLace mee where angry Titan burnes the More And thirstie Africke firâ—…e Monsters brings Or where the new-borne Phoenix spreades her Wings And Troupes of wondring Birds her Flight adore Place mee by Gange or Indes empampred Shore Where smyling Heauens on Earth cause double Springs Place mee where Neptunes Quire of Syrens sings Or where made hoarse through Cold hee leaues to roare Mee place where Fortune doth her Darlings crowne A Wonder or a Sparke in Enuies Eye Or late outragious Fates vpon mee frowne And Pittie wailing see disastred Mee Affections Print my Minde so deepe doth proue I may forget my Selfe but not my Loue. POEMS BY W. D. THE SECOND PART SONNET OF mortall Glorie ô soone darkned Raye O posting Ioyes of Man more swift than Winde O fond Desires which wing'd with Fancies straye O traitrous Hopes which doe our Iudgements blinde Loe in a Flash that Light is gone away Which dazell did each Eye Delight each Minde And with that Sunne from whence it came combinde Now makes more radiant Heauens eternall Day Let Beautie now be blubbred Cheekes with Teares Let widow'd Musicke only roare and plaine Poore Vertue get thee Wings and mount the Spheares And let thine only Name on Earth remaine Death hath thy Temple raz'd Loues Empire foylde The World of Honour Worth and Sweetnesse spoylde SON THose Eyes those sparkling Saphires of Delight Which thousand thousand Hearts did set on fire Which made that Eye of Heauen that brings the Light Oft jealous staye amaz'd them to admire That liuing Snow those crimson Roses bright Those Pearles those Rubies which did breede Desire Those Lockes of Gold that Purple faire of Tyre Are wrapt aye mee vp in eternall Night What hast thou more to vaunt of wretched World Sith shee who cursed thee made blest is gone Thine euer burning Lamps Rounds euer whorld Can vnto thee not modell such a one For if they would such Beautie bring on Earth They should be forc'd againe to make Her breath SON O Fate conspir'd to powre your Worst on mee O rigorous Rigour which doth all confound With cruell Hands yee haue cut downe the Tree And Fruit and Flowre dispersed on the Ground A litle Space of Earth my Loue doth bound That Beautie which did raise it to the Skie Turn'd in nâ—…glected Dust now low doth lie Deafe to my Plaints and senslesse of my Wound Ah! did I liue for this ah did I loue For this and was it shâ—…e did so excell That â—…re shee well Lifâ—…s sweet-sowre Ioyes did proue Shee should too deare a Guest with Horrour dwell Weake Influence of Hâ—…auen what faire yee frame Falles in the Prime and passeth like a Dreame SON O Woefull Life Life no but liuing Death Fraile Boat of Christall in a rockie Sea A Sport expos'd to Fortunes stormie Breath Which kept with Paine with Terrour doth decay The false Delights true Woes thou dost bequeath Mine all-appalled Minde doe so affraye That I those enuie who are laid in Earth And pittie them that runne thy dreadfull Waye When did mine Eyes behold one chearefull Morne When had my tossed Soule one Night of rest When did not hatefull Starres my Projects scorne O! now I finde for Mortalls what is best Euen sith our voyage shamefull is and short Soone to strike Saile and perish in the Port. SON MIne Eyes dissolue your Globes in brinie Streames And with a Cloud of Sorrow dimme your Sight The Sunnâ—…s bright Sunne is set of late whose Beames Gaue Luster to your Day Day to your Night My Voyce now deafen Earth with Anatheames Roare fooâ—…th a Challenge in the Worlds Despight Tell that disguised Grieâ—…e is her Delight That Life a Slumber is of fearfull Dreames And woefull Minde abhorre to thinke of Ioy My Senses all now comfortlesse you hide Accept no Object but of blacke Annoy Teares Plaints Sighs mourning Weeds Graues gaping wide I haue nought left to wish my Hopes are dead And all with Her beneath a Marble laide SON SWeet Soule which in the Aprill of thy Yeares So to enrich the Heauen mad'st poore this Round And now with golden Rayes of Glorie crown'd Most blest abid'st aboue the Spheare of Spheares If heauenly Lawes alas haue not thee bound From looking to this Globe that all vpbeares If Rueth and Pittie there aboue bee found O daigne to lâ—…nd a Looke vnto those Teares Doe not disdaine deare Ghost this sacrifice And though I raise not Pillars to thy Praise Mine Offerings take let this for mee suffice My Heart a liuing Piramide I raise And whilst Kings Tombes with Lawrels flourish greene Thine shall with Mirtles and these Flowrs bee seene MADRIGALL THis Life which seemes so faire Is like a Bubble blowen vp in the Aire By sporting Childrens Breath VVho chase it euery where And striâ—…e who can most Motion it bequeath And though it sometime seeme of its owne Might Like to an Eye of gold to be fix'd there And firme to houer in that emptie Hight That only is because it is so light But in that Pompe it doth not long appâ—…are For euen when most admir'd it in a Thought As swell'd from nothing doth dissolue in nought SON O! It is not to mee bright Lampe of Day That in the East thou shew'st thy rosie Face O! it is not to mee thou leau'st that Sea And in these
Place nor Teares False Ioyes vaine Hopes here bee not Hate nor Wrath VVhat ends all Loue here most augments it Death If such Force had the dimme Glance of an Eye VVhich some few Dayes thereafter was to die That it could make thee leaue all other things And like the Taper-slie there burne thy Wings And if a Voyce of late which could but waile Such Power had as through Eares thy Soule to steale If once thou on that only Faire couldst gaze What Flames of Loue would hee within thee raise In what a mazing Maze would it thee bring To heare but once that Quire celâ—…sliall sing The fairest Shapes on which thy Loue did sease VVhich carst did breede Delâ—…ght then would displease Then 〈◊〉 hoarse were Earths entising Sounds All Musicke but a Noyse which Sense confounds This great and burning Glasse that cleares all Eyes And musters with such Glorie in the Skies That siluer Starre which with its sober Light Makes Day oâ—…t enuie the eye-pleasing Night Those golden Letters which so brightly shine In Heauens great Volume gorgeously diuine The VVonders all in Sea in Earth in Aire Bee but darke Pictures of that Soueraigne Faire Bee Tongues which still thus crie into your Eare Could yee amidst VVorlds Cataracts them heare From fading things fond VVights lift your Desire And in our Beautie his vs made admire If wee seeme faire ô thinke how faire is Hee Of whose faire Fairnesse Shadowes Steps we bee No Shadow can compare it with the Face No Step with that deare Foot which did it trace Your Soules immortall are then place them hence And doe not drowne them in the Must of Sense Doe not ô doe not by false Pleasures Might Depriue them of that true and sole Delight That Happinesse yee seeke is not below Earths sweetest Ioy is but disguised VVoe Heere did shee pause and with a milde Aspect Did towards mee those lamping Twinnes direct The wonted Rayes I knew and thrice essay'd To answere make thrice faultring Tongue it stay'd And while vpon that Face I fed my Sight Mee thought shee vanish'd vp in Titans Light Who guilding with his Rayes each Hill and Plaine Seem'd to haue brought the Gold-smiths World againe TEARES ON THE DEATH of Moeliades To the Author IN Waues of Woe thy Sighes my Soule doe tosse And doe burst vp the Conduits of my Teares Whose ranckling Wound no smoothing Baulme long beares But freshly bleedes when Ought vpbraides my Losse Then thou so sweetly Sorrow makes to sing And troubled Passions dost so well accord That more Delight thine Anguish doth afford Than others Ioyes can Satisfaction bring What sacred Wits when rauish'd doe affect To force Affections metamorphose Mindes Whilst numbrous Power the Soule in secret bindes Thou hast perform'd transforming in Effect For neuer Plaints did greater Pittie moue The best Applause that can such Notes approue Sr. W. Alexander TEARES ON THE DEATH of Moeliades O Heauens then is it true that Thou art gone And left this woefull I le her Losse to mone Moeliades bright Day-Starre of the West A Comet blazing Terrour to the East And neither that thy Spright so heauenly wise Nor Bodie though of Earth more pure than Skies Nor royall Stemme nor thy sweet tender Age Of adamantine Fates could quench the Rage O fading Hopes O short-while-lasting Ioy Of Earth-borne Man which one Houre can destroy Then euen of Vertues Spoyles Death Trophees reares As if hee gloried most in many Teares Forc'd by grimme Destiâ—…es Heauens neglect our Cryes Starres seeme set only to acte Tragoedies And let them doe their Worst since thou art gone Raise whom they list to Thrones enthron'd dethrone Staine Princely Bowres with Blood and euen to Gange In Cypresse sad glad Hymens Torches change Ah! thou hast left to liue and in the Time VVhen scarce thou blossom'd in thy pleasant Prime So falles by Northerne Blast a virgine Rose At halfe that doth her bashfull Bosome close So a sweet Flourish languishing decayes That late did blush when kist by Phoebus Rayes So Phoebus mounting the Meridians Hight Choack'd by pale Phoebe faints vnto our Sight Astonish'd Nature sullen stands to see The Life of all this All so chang'd to bee In gloomie Gownes the Starres about deplore The Sea with murmuring Mountaines beates the Shore Blacke Darknesse reeles o're all in thousand Showres The weeping Aire on Earth her Sorrow powres That in a Palsey quakes to finde so soone Her Louer set and Night burst foorth ere Noone If Heauen alas ordain'd thee young to die Why was it not where thou thy Might did'st trie And to the hopefull World at least set forth Some litle Sparke of thine expected Worth Moeliades ô that by Isters Streames Amongst shrill-sounding Trumpets flaming Gleames Of warme encrimson'd Swords and Cannons Roare Balls thicke as Raine pour'd by the Caspian Shore Amongst crush'd Lances ringing Helmes and Shields Dismembred Bodies rauishing the Fields In Turkish Blood made red like Marses Starre Thou endâ—…d hadst thy Life and Christian Warre Or as braue Burbon thou hadst made old Rome Queene of the World thy Triumphs Place and Tombe So Heauens faire Face to the vnborne which reades A Booke had beene of thine illustrous Deedes So to their Nephewes aged Syres had told The high Exploits perform'd by thee of old Townes raz'd and rais'd victorious vanquish'd Bands Fierce Tyrants flying foyl'd kill'd by thy Hands And in deare Arras Virgines faire had wrought The Bayes and Trophees to thy Countrey brought While some new Homer imping Pennes to Fame Deafe Nilus Dwellers had made heare thy Name That thou didst not attaine those Honours Spheares It was not want of Worth ô no but Yeares A Youth more braue pale Troy with trembling Walles Did neuer see nor shee whose Name apalles Both Titans golden Bowres for bloody Fights Mustring on Marses Field such Marse like Knights The Heauens had brought thee to the highest Hight Of Wit and Courage shewing all their Might VVhen they thee fram'd Ay mee that what is braue On Earth they as their owne so soone should craue Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore VVhen Forth thy Nurse Forth where thou first didst passe Thy tender Dayes who smyl'd oft on her Glasse To see thee gaze Meandring with her Streames Heard thou hadst left this Round from Phoebus Beames Shee sought to flie but forced to returne By neighbour Brookes Shee gaue her selfe to mourne And as shee rush'd her Cyclades among Shee seem'd to plaine that Heauen had done her wrong VVith a hoâ—…rse Plaint Cleyd downe her steepie Rockes And Tweed through her greene Mountaines cled with Flockes Did wound the Ocean murmuring thy Death The Ocean that roar'd about the Earth And it to Mauritanian Atlas told Who shrunke through Griefe and downe his white Haires roll'd Hudge Streames of Teares that changed were in Floods VVith which hee drown'd the neighbour Plaines and Woods The lesser Brookes as they did bubbling goe Did keepe a Consort vnto publike Woe The Shepheards left
I doe craue Thy Naile my Penne shall bee thy Blood mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Graue And till that Soule forth of this Bodie flie No Hope I 'll haue but only onelie Thee TO spreade the azure Canopie of Heauen And make it twinckle all with Spanges of Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so euen That it should all and nought should it vphold To giue strange Motions to the Planets seuen And Ioue to make so meeke and Mars so bold To temper what is moist drie hote and cold Of all their Iarres that sweet Accords are giuen LORD to thy Wit is nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glorie laid aside Come basely in Mortalitie to bide And die for them deseru'd eternall Plight A Wonder is so farre aboue our Wit That Angells stand amaz'd to thinke on it COme forth come forth yee blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Towne Come see that King who all this All commands Now ouercharg'd with Loue die for his owne Looke on those Nailes which pierce his Feete and Hands What a strange Diademe his Browes doth crowne Beholde his pallide Face his Eyes which sowne And what a Throng of Thieues him mocking stands Come forth yee Empyrean Troupes come forth Preserue this sacred Blood which Earth adornes Gather those liquide Roses from his Thornes O! to bee lost they bee of too much Worth For Streames 1 Iuice 2 Baulme 3 they are which quench 1 killes 2 charmes 3 Of God 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the Wrath 1 the Life 2 the Harmes 3 SOule which to Hell wast thrall Hee hee for thine Offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soueraigne Excellence O Life of all that liues Eternall Bountie which all Goodnesse giues How could Death mount so hie No Wit this Point can reach Faith onely doth vs teach For vs hee died at all who could not die IF with such passing Beautie choise Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible which World we name Yet sillie Mansion but of mortall Wights How many Wonders what amazing Lights Must that triumphing Seate of Glorie claime Which doth transcend all this great All 's high Hights Of whose bright Sunne ours heere is but a Beame O blest Abode ô happie dwelling Place Where visiblie th'Inuisible doth raigne Blest People who doe see true Beauties Face With whose darke Shadowes Hee but Earth doth daigne All Ioy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Match'd with your endlesse Blisse and happie Life LOue which is heere a Care That Wit and Will doth marre Vncertaine Truce and a most certaine Warre A shrill tempestuous Winde VVhich doth disturbe the Minde And like wilde Waues our Dessignes all commoue Among those Sprights aboue VVhich see their Makers Face It a Contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure voide of Griefe a constant Rest Eternall Ioy which nothing can molest WHat haplesse Hap had I now to bee borne In these vnhappie Times and dying Dayes Of this else-doating World when Good decayes Loue is quench'd forth and Vertue held a Scorne When such are onely priz'd by wretched Wayes Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Auarice and Lust are counted Praise And noble Mindes liue Orphane like forlorne Why was not I into that golden Age When Gold yet was not knowne and those blacke Artes By which base Mortalles vildely play their Parts And staine with horride Actes Earths stately Stage Then to haue beene Heauen it had beene my Blissâ—… But blesse mee now and take mee soone from this THrise happie hee who by some shadie Groue Farre from the clamarous World doth liue his owne Though solitare yet who is not alone But doth conuerse with that Eternall Loue. O how more sweet is Birds harmonious Mone Or the soft Sobbings of the widow'd Doue Than those smoothe Whisp'rings neare a Princes Throne Which Good make doubtfull doe the Euill approue O how more sweet is Zephyres wholesome Breath And Sighs perfum'd which doe the Flowres vnfold Than that Applause vaine Honour doth bequeath How sweete are Streames to Poyson drunke in Gold The World is full of Horrours Falshoods Slights Woods silent Shades haue only true Delights WHy Worldlings doe ye trust fraile Honours Dreames And leane to guilded Glories which decay Why doe yee toyle to registrate your Names In ycie Columnes which soone melt away True Honour is not here that Place it claimes Where blacke-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no farre-shining Lampe diues in the Sea But an eternall Sunne spreades lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sprights stand gazing on their soueraigne Blisse Where Yeeres not hold it in their cankring Hands But who once noble euer noble is Looke home lest he your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall AStrea in this Time Now doth not liue but is fled vp to Heauen Or if shee liue it is not without Crime That shee doth vse her Power And shee is no more Virgine but a Whoure Whoure prostitute for Gold For shee doth neuer holde her Ballance euen And when her Sword is roll'd The Bad Injurious False shee not o'rethrowes But on the Innocent lets fall her Blowes WHat serues it to bee good Goodnesse by thee The Holy-wise is thought a Foole to bee For thee the Man to Temperance inclin'de Is held but of a base and abject Minde The Continent is thought for thee but cold Who yet was good that euer died old The pittifull who others feares to kill Is kill'd himselfe and Goodnesse doth him ill The meeke and humble Man who cannot braue By thee is to some Giants Brood made Slaue Poore Goodnesse thine thou to such Wrongs sett'st forth That ô I feare mee thou art nothing worth And when I looke to Earth and not to Heauen Ere I were turned Doue I would bee Rauen. GReat GOD whom wee with humble Thoughts adore Eternall infinite almightie King Whose Pallace Heauen transcends whose Throne before Archangells serue and Seraphins doe sing Of Nought who wrought all that with wondring Eyes VVee doe behold within this spacious Round VVho mak'st the Rockes to rocke and stand the Skies At whose Command the horride Thunders sound Ah! spare vs Wormes weigh not how wee alas Euill to our Selues against thy Lawes rebell VVash off those Spots which still in Conscience Glasse Though wee bee loth to looke wee see too well Deseru'd Reuenge ô doe not doe not take If thou reuenge what shall abide thy Blow Passe shall this World this World which thou didst make VVhich should not perish till thy Trumpet blow For who is hee whom Parents Sinne not staines Or with his owne Offence is not defil'd Though Iustice Ruine threaten Iustice Raines Let Mercie hold and bee both just and milde Lesse are our Faults farre farre thaâ—… is thy Loue O! what can better seeme thy Pow'r diuine Than those who Euill deserue thy Goodnesse proue And where thou thunder shouldst there
Veines that Flowre of purple Hue Which followes on the Planet of the Yeare Was it to show how in our Hemispheare Like him shee shines Nay that Effects more true Of Power and Wonder doe in her appeare Whilst hee but Flowres shee doth braue Minds subdue Or would hee else to Vertues glorious Light Her constant Course make knowne or is it hee Doth paralell her Blisse with Clytias Plight Right so and thus hee reading in her Eye Some woefull Louers End to grace his Graue For Cypresse Tree this mourning Flowre her gaue Vpon that same IF Sight bee not beguilde And Eyes right playe their Part This Flowre is not of Arte But is faire Natures Child And though when Phoebus from vs is exilde Shee doth not locke her Leaues his Losse to mone No Wonder Earth hath now moe Sunnes than one THIRSIS in Dispraise of Beautie THat which so much the doating World doth prise Fond Ladies only Care and sole Delight Soone-fading Beautie which of Hues doth rise Is but an abject Let of Natures Might Most woefull Wretch whom shining Haire and Eyes Leade to Loues Dungeon traitor'd by a Sight Most woefull for hee might with greater Ease Hells Portalls enter and pale Death appease As in delicious Meads beneath the Flowres And the most wholsome Herbes that May can show In christall Curles the speckled Serpent lowres As in the Apple which most faire doth grow The rotten Worme is clos'd which it deuoures As in gilt Cups with Gnossian Wine which flow Oft Poyson pompously doth hide its Sowres So Lewdnesse Falshood Mischiefe them aduance Clad with the pleasant Rayes of Beauties Glance Good thence is chas'd where Beautie doth appeare Milde Lowlinesse with Pittie from it flie Where Beautie raignes as in their proper Spheare Ingratitude Disdaine Pride all desâ—…rie The Flowre and Fruit which Vertues Tree should beare With her bad Shadowe Beautie maketh die Beautie a Monster is a Monster hurld From angrie Heaâ—…en to scourge this lower World As Fruits which are vnripe and sowre of Taste To bee confect'd more fit than sweet wee proue 〈◊〉 Sweet in Spight of Care themselues will waste When they long kept the Appetite doe moue So in the Sweetnesse of his Nectare Loue The foule confects and seasons for his Feaste Sowre is farre better which wee sweet may make Than sweet which sweeter Sweetnesse will not â—…ake Foule may my Ladie bee and may her Nose A Tanarife giue Vmbrage to her Chinne May her gay Mouth which shee no Time may close So wide be that the Moone may turne therein May Eyes and Teeth bee made conforme to those Eyes set by Chance and white Teeth blacke and thinne May all what seene is and is hidde from Sight Like vnto these rare Parts bee framed right I shall not feare thus though shee straye alone That others Her pursue entice admire And though shee sometime counterfaite a Grone I shall not thinke her Heart feeles vncouth Fire I shall not stile Her ruethlesse to my Mone Nor prowde disdainfull wayward to Desire Her Thoughts with mine will hold an equall Line I shall bee hers and shee shall all bee mine EVRYMEDONS Praise of MIRA GEmme of the Mountaines Glorie of our Plaines Rare Miracle of Nature and of Loue Sweet Atlas who all Beauties Heauens sustaines No Beauties Heauen where all her Wonders moue The Sunne from East to West who all doth see On this low Globe sees nothing like to thee One Phoenix only liu'd ere thou wast borne And Earth but did oâ—…e Queene of Loue admire Three Graces only did the World adorne But thrise three Muses sung to Phoebus Lyre Two Phoenixes bee now Loues Queenes are two Foure Graces Muses ten all made by you For those Perfections which the bounteous Heauen To diuerse Worlds in diuerse Times assign'd With thousands more to thee at once were giuen Thy Body faire more faire they made thy Mind And that thy like no Age should more behold When thou wast fram'd they after brake the Mold Sweet are the Blushes on thy Face which shine Sweet are the Flames which sparkle from thine Eyes Sweet are his Torments who for thee doth pine Most sweet his Death for thee who sweetly dies For if hee die hee dies not by Annoy But too much Sweetnesse and aboundant Ioy. What are my slender Layes to show thy Worth How can base Words a thing so high make knowne So wooden Globes bright Starres to vs set forth So in a Christall is Sunnes Beautie showne More of thy Praises if my Muse should write More Loue and Pittie must the same indite THAVMANTIA at the departure of IDMON FAire Diane from the Hight Of Heauens first Orbe who chear'st this lower Place Hide now from mee thy Light And pittying my Case Spread with a Skarfe of Clouds thy blushing Face Come with your dolefull Songs Nights sable Birds which plaine when others sleepe Come solemnize my Wrongs And Consort to mee keepe Sith Heauen Earth Hell are set to cause mee weepe This Griefe yet I could beare If now by Absence I were only pinde But ah worse Euill I feare Men absent proue vnkinde And change vnconstant like the Moone their Minde If Thought had so much Power Of thy Departure that it could mee slaye How will that vgly Houre My feeble Sense dismaye Farewell sweet Heart when I shall heare thee say Deare Life sith thou must goe Take all my Ioy and Comfort hence with thee And leaue with mee thy Woe Which vntill I thee see Nor Time nor Place nor Change shall take from mee ERYCINE at the departure of ALEXIS ANd wilt thou then Alexis mine depart And leaue these slowrie Meads and christall Streames These Hills as greene as great with Gold and Gemmes Which courte thee with rich Treasure in each Part Shall nothing hold thee not my loyall Heart That burstes to lose the Comfort of thy Beames Nor yet this Pipe which wildest Satyres tames Nor Lambkins Wayling nor old Dorus Smart O ruethlesse Shepheard Forrests strange among VVhat canst thou else but fearfull Dangers finde But ah not thou but Honour doth mee Wrong O cruell Honour Tyrant of the Mind This said sad Erycine and all the Flowres Empearled as shee went with Eyes salt Showres ALEXIS to DAMON THe Loue Alexis did to Damon beare Shall witness'd bee to all the Woods and Plaines As singulare renown'd by neighbouring Swaines That to our Relicts Time may Trophees reare Those Madrigals wee sung amidst our Flockes With Garlands guarded from Apollos Beames On Ochells whiles whiles neare Bodotrias Streames Are registrate by Ecchoes in the Rockes Of forraine Shepheards bent to trie the States Though I Worlds Guest a Vagabond doe straye Thou mayst that Store which I esteeme Suruaye As best acquainted with my Soules Conceits What euer Fate Heauens haue for mee design'd I trust thee with the Treasure of my Mind FINIS THE Nâ—… which in thesâ—… Verses is giuen Prince HENRIâ—… is that which he himselfe in the Challenges of his Martial Sports Mascarads was wont to vse Moeliades Princâ—… of the Isleâ—… which in 〈◊〉 maketh Miles A DEO
the Meads the Woods the Flouds are faire Faire looketh Ceres with her yellow Haire And Apples Queene when Rose-cheekt Shee doth smile That Heauen and Earth and Seas are faire is true Yet true that all not please so much as you MAD. WHen as shee smiles I finde More light before mine Eyes Nor when the Sunne from Inde Brings to our World a flowrie Paradise But when shee gently weepes And powres foorth pearlie Showres On Checkes faire blushing Flowres A sweet Melancholie my Senses keepes Both feede so my Disease So much both doe me please That oft I doubt which more my Heart doth burne Like Loue to see her smile or Pitie mourne SON SLide soft faire FORTH and make a christall Plaine Cut your white Lockes and on your foamie Face Let not a Wrinckle bee when you embrace The Boat that Earths Perfections doth containe Windes wonder and through wondring holde your Peace Or if that yee your Hearts cannot restraine From sending Sighes mou'd by a Louers Case Sigh and in her faire Haire your selues enchaine Or take these Sighes which Absence makes arise From mine oppressed Brest and waue the Sailes Or some sweet Breath new brought from Paradise Flouds seeme to smile Loue o're the Winds preuailes And yet hudge Waues arise the Cause is this The Ocean striues with FORTH the Boate to kisse SON AH who can see those Fruites of Paradise Celestiall Cherries which so sweetly swell That Sweetnesse selfe confinde there seemes to dwell And all those sweetest Parts about despise Ah! who can see and feele no Flame surprise His hardened Heart for mee alas too well I know their Force and how they doe excell Now burne I through Desire now doe I freeze I die deare Life vnlesse to mee bee giuen As many Kisses as the Spring hath Flowrs Or as the siluer Drops of Iris Showrs Or as the Starres in all embracing Heauen And if displeas'd yee of the Match complaine Yee shall haue leaue to take them backe againe SON IS 't not enough aye mee mee thus to see Like some Heauen-banish'd Ghost still wailing goe A Shadow which your Rayes doe only show To vexe mee more vnlesse yee bid mee die What could yee worse allotte vnto your Foe But die will I so yee will not denie That Grace to mee which mortall Foes euen trie To chuse what sort of Death should ende my Woe One Time I found when as yee did mee kisse Yee gaue my panting Soule so sweet a Touch That halfe I sown'd in midst of all my Blisse I doe but craue my Deaths Wound may bee such For though by Griefe I die not and Annoy Is 't not enough to die through too much Ioy MAD. SWeete Rose whence is this Hue VVhich doth all Hues excell VVhence this most fragrant Smell And whence this Forme and gracing Grace in you In flowrie Paestums Field perhaps yee grew Or Hyblas Hills you bred Or odoriferous Ennas Plaines you fed Or Tmolus or where Bore yong Adon slew Or hath the Queene of Loue you dy'd of new In that deare Bloud which makes you looke so red No none of those but Cause more high you blist My Ladies Brest you bare and Lips you kist SON SHee whose faire flowrs no Autumne makes decay Whose Hue celestiall earthly Hues doth staine Into a pleasant odoriferous Plaine Did walke alone to braue the P◅ide of Maye And whilst through chekred Lists shee made her Way Which smil'd about her Sight to entertaine Loe vnawares where Loue did hid remaine Shee spide and sought to make of him her Prey For which of golden Lockes a fairest Haire To binde the Boy shee tooke But hee afraid At her Approach sprang swiftly in the Aire And mounting ◅arre from Reach look'd backe and said Why shouldst thou Sweet me seeke in Chaines to binde Sith in thine Eyes I dayly am confinde MAD. ON this colde World of Ours Flowre of the Seasons Season of the Flowrs Sonne of the Sunne sweet Spring Such hote and burning Dayes why doest th◅u bring Is this for that those high Eternall Pow'rs Flash downe that Fire this All enuironing Or that now Phoebus keepes his Sisters Spheare Or doth some Phaēton Enflame the Sea and Aire Or rather is it Vsher of the Yeare For that last Day amongst thy Flowrs alone Vnmask'd thou saw'st my Faire And whilst thou on her gaz'd shee did thee burne And in thy Brother Summer doth thee turne SON DEare Wood and you sweet solitarie Place Where from the vulgare I estranged liue Contented more with what your Shades mee giue Than if I had what Thetis doth embrace What snakie Eye growne iealous of my Peace Now from your silent Horrours would mee driue When Sunne progressing in his glorious Race Beyond the Twinnes doth neare our Pole arriue What sweet Delight a quiet Life affords And what it is to bee of Bondage free Farre from the madding Worldlings hoarse Discords Sweet flowrie Place I first did learne of thee Ah! if I were mine owne your deare Resorts I would not change with Princes stately Courts SEXTAIN SIth gone is my Delight and only Pleasure The last of all my Hopes the chearfull Sunne That clear'd my Lifes darke Day Natures sweet Treasure More deare to mee than all beneath the Moone VVhat resteth now but that vpon this Mountaine I weepe till Heauen transforme mee in a Fountaine Fresh faire delicious christall pearlie Fountaine On whose smoothe Face to looke shee oft tooke Pleasure Tell mee so may thy Streames long cheare this Mountaine So Serpent ne're thee staine nor scorch the Sunne So may with gentle Beames thee kisse the Moone Doest thou not mourne to want so faire a Treasure VVhile shee her glass'd in thee rich TAGVS Treasure Thou enuie needed not nor yet the Fountaine In which that Hunter saw the naked Moone Absence hath robb'd thee of thy Wealth and Pleasure And I remaine like Marigold of Sunne Depriu'd that dies by Shadow of some Mountaine Nymphes of the Forrests Nymphes who on this Mountaine Are wont to dance shewing your Beauties Treasure To Goate-feete Syluans and the wondring Sunne VVhen as you gather Flowres about this Fountaine Bid Her Farewell who placed here her Pleasure And sing her Praises to the Starres and Moone Among the lesser Lights as is the Moone Blushing through Scarfe of Clouds on LATMOS Mountaine Or when her siluer Lockes shee lookes for Pleasure In Thetis Streames prowde of so gay a Treasure Such was my Faire when Shee sate by this Fountaine With other Nymphes to shunne the amorous Sunne As is our Earth in Absence of the Sunne Or when of Sunne depriued is the Moone As is without a verdant Shade a Fountaine Or wanting Grasse a Mead a Vale a Mountaine Such is my State bereft of my deare Treasure To know whose only Worth was all my Pleasure Ne're thinke of Pleasure Heart Eyes shunne the Sunne Teares be your Treasure which the wandring Moone Shall see you shed by Mountaine Vale and Fountaine SON THou Window once which serued for a
azure Lists beginst thy Race Thou shin'st not to the Dead in any Place And I dead from this World am gone away Or if I seeme a Shadow yet to stay It is a while but to bemone my Case My Mirth is lost my Comforts are dismay'd And vnto sad Mis-haps their Place doe yeeld My Knowledge doth resemble a bloudie field Where I my Hopes and Helps see prostrate layd So painefull is Lifes Course which I haue runne That I doe wish it neuer had begunne SONG SAd Damon beeing come To that for euer lamentable Tombe Which those eternall Powers that all controule Vnto his liuing Soule A melancholie Prison had prescriu'd Of Hue of Heate of Motion quite depriu'd In Armes wake trembling cold A Marble hee the Marble did infold And hauing made it warme with many a Showre VVhich dimmed Eyes did powre VVhen Griefe had giuen him leauâ—… and Sighes them stay'd Thus with a sad alas at last he said VVho would haue thought to mee The Place where thou didst lie could grieuous bee And that deare Body long thee hauing sought O mee who would haue thought Thee once to finde it should my Soule confound And giue my Heart than Death a deeper Wound Thou didst disdaine my Teares But grieue not that this ruethfull Stone them beares Mine Eyes serue only now for thee to weepe And let their Course them keepe Although thou neuer wouldst them Comfort show Doe not repine they haue Part of thy Woe Ah Wretch too late I finde How Vertues gâ—…ious Titles proue but Winde For if shee any could release from Death Thou yet eniâ—…y'd hadst Breath For if shee ere appear'd to mortall Eine It was in thy faire Shape that shee was seene But ô if I was made For thee with thee why too am I not dead VVhy doe outragious Fates which dimm'd thy Sight Let mee see hatefull Light They without mee made Death thee to surprise Tyrants perhaps that they might kill mee twise O Griefe and could one Day Haue Force such Excellence to take away Could a swift flying Moment ah deface Those matchlesse Gifts that Grace Which Art and Nature had in thee combinde To make thy Body paragone thy Minde Haue all past like a Cloud And doth eternall Silence now them shroud Is what so much admir'd was nought but Dust Of which a Stone hath trust O Change ô cruell Change thou to our Sight Shewes Destines Rigour equall doth their Might VVhen thou from Earth didst passe Sweet Nymph Perfections Mirrour broken was And this of late so glorious World of ours Like Meadow without Flowrs Or Ring of a rich Gemme made blind appear'd Or Night by Starre nor Cynthia neither clear'd Loue when hee saw thee die Entomb'd him in the Lidde of either Eye And left his Torch within thy sacred Vrne There for a Lampe to burne VVorth Honour Pleasure with thy Life expir'd Death since growne sweet beginnes to bee desir'd Whilst thou to vs wast giuen The Earth her Venus had as well as Heauen Nay and her Sunne which burnt as many Hearts As hee doth Easterne Parts Bright Sunne which forc'd to leaue these Hemispheares Benighted set into a Sea of Teares Ah Death who shall thee flie Sith the most worthie bee o'rethrowne by thee Thou spar'st the Rauens and Nightingalles dost kill And triumphes at thy will But giue thou canst not such an other Blow Because like Her Earth can none other show O bitter-Sweets of Loue How better is 't at all you not to proue Than when wee doe your Pleasure most possesse To find them then made lesse O! that the Cause which doth consume our Ioy Remembrance of it too would too destroy What doth this Life bestow But Flowrs on Thâ—…rnes which grow VVhich though they sometime blandishing delighte Yet afterwards vs smite And if the rising Sunne them faire doth see That Planet setting too beholdes them die This World is made a Hell Depriu'd of all that in it did excell O Pan Pan Winter is fallen in our May Turn'd is in Night our Day Forsake thy Pipe a Scepter take to thee Thy Lockes disgarland thou blacke Ioue shalt bee The Flockes doe leaue the Meads And loathing three-leaf'd Grasse hold vp their Heads The Streames not glide now with a gentle Rore Nor Birds sing as before Hilles stand with Clouds like Mourners vail'd in Blacke And Owles on Caban Roofes fore-tell oâ—…r Wracke That Zephyre euerie Yeere So soone was heard to sigh in Forrests heere It was for Her that wrapt in Gownes of Greene Meads were so earelie seene That in the saddest Months oft sâ—…ng the Mearles It was for Her for hâ—…r Trees dropt foorth Pearles That prowde and statelie Courts Did enuie those our Shades and calme Resorts It was for Her and shee is gone ô Woe Woods cut againe doe grow Budde doth the Rose and Dazie Winter done But wee once dead no more doe see the Sunne VVhose Name shall now make ring The Ecchoes of whom shall the Nymphettes sing VVhose heauenlie Voyce whose Soule-inuading Straines Shall fill with Ioy the Plaines VVhat Haire what Eyes can make the Morne in East VVeepe that a fairer riseth in the West Faire Sunne poste still away No Musicke heere is found thy Course to stay Sweet Hybla Swarmes with Wormewood fill your Bowrs Gone is the Flowre of Flowrs Blush no more Rose nor Lillie pale remaine Dead is that Beautie which yours late did staine Aye mee to waile my Plight VVhy haue not I as many Eyes as Night Or as that Shepheard which Ioues Loue did keepe That I still still may weepe But though I had my Teares vnto my Crosse VVere not yet equall nor Griefe to my Losse Yet of you brinie Showrs VVhich I heere powre may spring as many Flowrs As came of those which fell from Helens Eyes And when yee doe arise May euerie Leafe in sable Letters beare The dolefull Cause for which yee spring vp heere MAD. DEare Night the Ease of Care Vntroubled Seate of Peace Times eldest Childe which oft the Blinde doe see On this our Hemispheare What makes thee now so sadly darke to bee Comm'st thou in funerall Pompe her Graue to grace Or doe those Starres which should thy Horrour cleare In Ioues high Hall aduise In what Part of the Skies VVith them or Cynthia shee shall appeare Or ah alas because those matchlesse Eyes VVhich shone so faire below thou dost not finde Striu'st thou to make all other Eyes looke blinde SON MY Lute bee as thou wast when thou didst grow With thy greene Mother in some shadie Groue When immelodious Windes but made thee moue And Birds on thee their Ramage did bestow Sith that deare Voyce which did thy Sounds approue Which vs'd in such harmonious Straines to flow Is reft from Earth to tune those Spheares aboue What art thou but a Harbenger of Woe Thy pleasing Notes be pleasing Notes no more But orphane Wailings to the fainting Eare Eâ—…ch Stoppe a Sigh each Sound drawes foorth a Teare Bee therefore silent as in Woods before