did she pause and with a mild Aspect Did towards me those lamping Twins direct The wonted Raies I knew and thrice essay'd To Answer make thrice faulâ—ring Tongue it stay'd And while upon that Face I fed my Sight Me thought she vanisht up to Titans Light Who guilding with his Rayes each Hill and Plaine Seem'd to have brought the Golden World againe URANIA TRiumphing Chariots Statues Crowns of Bayes Skie-threatning Arches the rewards of worth Books heavenly-wise in sweet harmonious layes Which men divine unto the World set forth States which Ambitious Minds in bloud do raise From frozen Tanais unto sun-burnt Gange Gigantall Frames held wonders rarely strange Like Spiders webs are made the sport of Daies Nothing is constant but in constant change What 's done still is undone and when undone Into some other Fashion doth it range Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone Wherefore my Mind above Time Motion Place Rise up and steps unknown to Nature trace TOo long I followed have my fond Desire And too long painted on the Ocean Streames Too long refreshment sought amidst the fire Pursu'd those joyes which to my Soule are Blames Ah when I had what most I did admire And seen of Lifes Delights the last extreames I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer A Nought a Thought a Mascarade of Dreames Henceforth on Thee my only Good I 'll thinke For only thou canst grant what I do crave Thy Naile my Pen shall be thy Bloud mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Grave And till my Soule forth of this body flie No Hope I 'll have but only only thee TO spread the Azure Canopy of Heaven And spangle it all with Sparkes of burning Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold With motions strange t' indue the Planets seven And Jove to make so mild and Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet Accords are given Lord to thy Wisdome's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come basely in Mortality to bide And die for those deserv'd an endlesse night A Wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to thinke on it WHat haplesse Hap had I for to be borne In these unhappy Times and dying Daies Of this now doting World when Good decayes Love 's quite extinct and Vertue 's held a scorne When such are only pris'd by wretched waies Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Avarice and Lust are counted praise And bravest Minds live Orphane-like forlorne Why was not I borne in that golden Age When Gold yet was not known and those black Arts By which Base Worldlings vilely play their parts With Horrid Acts staining Earths stately Stage To have been then O heaven 't had been my bliss But blesse me now and take me soone from this On the Pourtrait of the Countesse of Perthe SON THe Goddesse that in Amathus doth raigne With silver Tramells and Saphir-colour'd Eyes When naked from her Mothers Chrystall Plaine She first appear'd unto the wondring Skies Or when the golden-Apple to obtaine Her blushing Snow amazed Idas Trees Did never look in halfe so faire a guise As She here drawn all other Ages Staine O God what Beauties to inflame the Soule And hold the hardest Hearts in Chaines of Gold Faire Locks sweet Face Loves stately Capitole Pure Neck which doth that heavenly Frame uphold If Vertue would to mortall Eyes appeare To ravish sense She would your Beautie wear SON IF Heaven the Stars and Nature did her grace With all Perfections found the Moone above And what excelleth in this lower Place Found place in her to breed a World of Love If Angels Gleames shine on her fairest Face Which makes Heavens Joy on Earth the gazer prove And her bright Eyes the Orbes which Beauty move As Phoebus dazell in his glorious Race What Pencill paint what Colour to the sight So sweet a Shape can show the blushing Morne The red must lend the Milkie-way the white And Night the Stars which her rich Crown adorne To draw her right then and make all agree The Heaven the Table Zeuxis Jove must be On that same drawn with a Pencill SON WHen with brave Art the curious Painter drew This Heavenly Shape the hand why made he beare With golden Veines that Flow'r of purple hue Which follows on the Planet of the yeare Was it to show how in our Hemispheare Like him She shines nay that effects more true Of Power and Wonder do in her appeare While He but Flow'rs and She doth Minds subdue Or would he else to Vertues glorious light Her constant Course make known or is 't that He Doth paralell her blisse with Clitias plight Right so and thus He reading in Her Eye Some Lovers end to grace what he did grave For Cypres Tree this mourning Flow'r her gave MADRIGALL IF sight be not beguil'd And eyes right play their part This Flower is not of Art But 's fairest Natures Child And though when Titanâ—s from our World exil'd She doth not lock her leaves his losse to moane No wonder Earth finds now more Suns than one To the Author Parthenius WHile thou dost praise the Roses Lillies Gold Which in a dangling Tresse and Face appeare Still stands the Sun in Skies thy Songs to heare A Silence sweet each whispering Wind doth hold Sleep in Pasithea's Lap his Eyes doth fold The Sword falls from the God of the fift Spheare The Heards to feed the Birds to sing forbeare Each Plant breaths Love each Floud and Fountain cold And hence it is that that once Nymph now Tree Who did th' Amphrisian Shepheards Sighs disdaine And scorn'd his Layes mov'd by a sweeter Vaine Is become pitifull and follows Thee Thee loves and vanâ—eth that she hath the Grace A Garland for thy Locks to enterlace Alexis THe Love Alexis did to Damon beare Shall witness'd be to all the Woods and Plaines As singular renown'd by neighbouring Swaines That to our Relicts Time may Trophees reare Those Madrigals we sung amidst our Flocks With Garlands guarded from Apollos Beames On Ochelles whiles neare Bodottias Streames The Ecchoes did resound them from the Rocks Of forraine Shepheards bent to try the States Though I Worlds Guest a Vagabond do stray Thou may that Store which I esteem Survey As best acquainted with my Soules Conceits What ever Fate Heavens have for me design'd I trust thee with the Treasure of my Mind Clorus SWan which so sweetly sings By Aska's Bankes and pitifully plains That old Meander never heard such Straines Eternall Fame thou to thy Country brings And now our Calidon Is by thy Songs made a new Helicon Her Mountaines Woods and Springs While Mountains Woods Springs be shall sound thy praise And though fierce Boreas oft make pale her Bayes And kill those Mirtills with enraged Breath Which should thy Brows enwreath Her Flouds have Pearles Seas
you Heaven that all containes And thou my Soule let nought thy Griefes relent Those Hands those sacred Hands which hold the reines Of this great All and kept from mutuall wars The Elements beare rent for thee their Veines Those Feet which once must trade on golden Stars For thee with Nails would be pierc'd through and torn For thee Heavens King from Heaven himselfe debars This great heart-quaking Dolour waile and mourne Yee that long since Him saw by might of Faith Ye now that are and ye yet to be borne Not to behold his great Creators Death The Sun from sinfull eyes hath vail'd his light And faintly journies up Heavens saphyre Path And cutting from her Brows her Tresses bright The Moone doth keep her Lords sad Obsequâ—es Impearling with her Teares her Robe of Night All staggering and lazie lowre the Skies The Earth and elementall Stages quake The long-since dead from bursted Graves arise And can things wanting sense yet sorrow take And beare a part with him who all them wrought And Man though borne with cries shall pitty lack Thinke what had been your state had he not brought To these sharpe Pangs himselfe and priz'd so high Your soules that with his Life them life he bought What woes do you attend if still ye lye Plung'd in your wonted ordures wretched Brood Shall for your sake againe God ever die O leave deluding shews embrace true good He on you calls forgo Sins shamefull trade With Prayers now seek Heaven and not with Bloud Let not the Lambs more from their Dams be had Nor Altars blush for sin live every thing That long time long'd for sacrifice is made All that is from you crav'd by this great King Is to beleeve a pure Heart Incense is What gift alas can we him meaner bring Haste sin-sick Soules this season do not misse Now while remorselesse Time doth grant you space And God invites you to your only Blisse He who you calls will not deny you Grace But low-deep bury faults so ye repent His Armes loe stretched are you to embrace When Daies are done and Lifes small sparke is spent So you accept what freely here is given Like brood of Angels deathlesse all-content Ye shall for ever live with him in Heaven COme forth come forth ye blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Town Come see that King which all this All commands Now overcharg'd with Love die for his own Look on those Nailes which pierce his Feet and Hands What a sharpe Diadem his Brows doth crown Behold his pallid Face his heavy frown And what a throng of Thieves him mocking stands Come forth ye Empyrean Troupes come forth Preserve this sacred Bloud that Earth adornes Gather those liquid Roses off his Thornes O! to be lost they be of too much worth For Streams 1 Juice 2 Balm 3 they are which quench 1 kills 2 charmes 3 Of God 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the wrath 1 the life 2 the harmes3. SOule whom Hell did once inthrall He He for thine offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soveraigne Excellence O life of all that lives Eternall Bounty which each good thing gives How could Death mount so high No wit this Point can reach Faith only doth us teach He died for us at all who could not dye LIfe to give life deprived is of Life And Death display'd hath Ensigne against Death So violent the Rigour was of Death That nought could daunt it but the Life of Life No Power had Pow'r to thrall Lifes Pow'rs to Death But willingly Life down hath laid Life Love gave the wound which wrought this worke of Death His Bow and Shafts were of the Tree of Life Now quakes the Author of eternall Death To find that they whom late he rest of Life Shall fill his Roome above the lists of Death Now all rejoyce in Death who hope for Life Dead Jesus lies who Death hath kill'd by Death No Tombe his Tombe is but new Source of Life RIse from those fragrant Climes thee now embrace Unto this World of Ours O haste thy Race Faire Sun and though contrarie waies all yeare Thou hold thy course now with the highest Sheare Joyne thy blew Wheeles to hasten Time that low'rs And lazy Minutes turne to perfect Houres The Night and Death too long a league have made To stow the World in Horrours ugly shade Shake from thy Locks a Day with Safron raies So faire that it outshine all other daies And yet do not presumâ— great Eye of Light To be that which this Day must make so bright See an Eternall Sun hasts to arise Not from the Easterne blushing Seas or Skies Or any stranger Worlds Heavens Concaves have But from the Darknesse of an hollow Grave And this is that all-powerfull Sun above That crown'd thy Brows with Rays first made thee moâ— Lights Trumpeters ye need not from your Bow'rs Proclaime this Day this the angelick Pow'rs Have done for you But now an opall hew Bepaints Heavens Christall to the longing view Earths late hid Colours shine Light doth adorne The World and weeping Joy forth comes the Morne And with her as from a Lethargick Trance The breath return'd that Bodies doth advance Which two sad Nights in Rock lay coffin'd dead And with an iron Guard invironed Life out of Death Light out of Darknesse springs From a base Jaile forth comes the King of Kings What late was mortall thrall'd to every woe That lackeys life or upon sense doth grow Immortall is of an eternall Stampe Far brighter beaming than the morning Lampe So from a black Ecclipse out-peares the Sun Such when her course of Daies have on her run In a far Forrest in the pearly East And she her selfe hath burnt and spicie Nest The lovely Bird with youthfull Pens and Combe Doth sore from out her Cradle and her Tombe So a small seed that in the Earth lies hid And dies reviving bursts her cloddy Side Adorn'd with yellow Locks of new is borne And doth become a Mother great with Corne Of Graines brings hundreds with it which when old Enrich the Furrows which do float with Gold Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile That Hell doth ransake against Death prevaile O how thou long'd for com'st with joyfull cries The all-triumphing Palatines of Skies Salute thy rising Earth would Joyes no more Beare if thou rising didst them not restore A silly Tombe should not his Flesh enclose Who did Heavens trembling Tarasses dispose No Monument should such a Jewell hold No Rock though Ruby Diamond and Gold Thou didst lament and pitty humane Race Bestowing on us of thy free-given Grace More than we forfeited and losed first In Eden Rebells when we were accurst Then Earth our portion was Earths Joyes but given Earth and Earths Blisse thou hast exchang'd with heaven O what a hight of good upon us streames From the great splendor of thy Bounties Beames When we deserv'd shame horrour flames of wrath Thou bledst our wounds and suffer didst
our Death But Fathers Justice pleas'd Hell Death o'recome In triumph now thou risest from thy Tombe With Glories which past Sorrows countervaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile Hence humble sense and hence ye Guides of sense We now reach Heaven your weake intelligence And searching Pow'rs were in a flash made 〈◊〉 To learne from all Eternity that him The Father bred then that he here did come His Bearers Parent in a Virgins Wombe But then when sold betray'd crown'd scourg'd with Thorn Nail'd to a Tree all breathlesse bloudlesse torne Entomb'd him risen from a Grave to find Confounds your Cunning turnes like Moles you blind Death thou that heretofore still barren wast Nay didst each other Bâ—rth eate up and waste Imperious hatefull pittilesse unjust Unpartiall equaller of all with dust Sterne Executioner of heavenly doome Made fruitfull now Lifes Mother art become A sweet reliefe of Cares the Soule molest An Harbinger to Glory Peace and Rest Put off thy mourning Weeds yeeld all thy Gall To dayly sinning Life proud of thy fall Assemble all thy Captives haste to rise And every Coarse in Earth-quakes where it lies Sound from each flowry Grave and rocky Jaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile The World that wanning late and faint did lie Applauding to our Joyes thy Victory To a young Prime Essayes to turne againe And as ere soyl'd with Sin yet to remaine Her chilling Agues she begins to misse All Blisse returning with the Lord of Blisse With greater light Heavens Temples opened shine Morns smiling rise Evens blushing do decline Clouds dappled glister boist'rous Winds are calme Soft Zephyres do the Fields with sighs embalme In silent calmes the Sea hath husht his Roares And with enamour'd Curles doth kisse the Shoares All-bearing Earth like a new-married Queene Her Beauties hightens in a Gown of Greene Perfumes the Aire her Meads are wrought with flow'rs In colours various figures smelling pow'rs Trees wanton in the Groves with leavy Locks Her Hâ—lls enamell'd stand the Vales the Rocks Ring peales of Joy her Floods and pratling Brookes Stars liquid Mirrors with serpenting Crooks And whispering murmures sound unto the Maine The Golden Age returned is againe The honey People leave their golden Bow'rs And innocently prey on budding Flow'rs In gloomy Shades percht on the tender Sprayes The painted Singers fill the Aire with Layes Seas Floods Earth Aire all diversly do sound Yet all their diverse Notes hath but one ground Re-eccho'd here-down from Heavens azure Vaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile O Day on which Deaths Adamantine Chaine The Lord did breake did ransack Satans Raigne And in triumphing Pompe his Trophees rear'd Be thou blest ever henceforth still endear'd With Name of his own Day the Law to Grace Types to their substance yeeld to thee give place The old New-Moons with all festivall Daies And what above the rest deserveth praise The reverend Sabaoth what could else they be Than golden Heraulds telling what by thee We should enjoy Shades past now shine thou cleare And henceforth be thou Empresse of the yeare This Glory of thy Sisters Sex to win From worke on thee as other Daies from Sin That Mankind shall forbeare in every place The Prince of Planets warmeth in his race And far beyond his paths in frozen Climes And may thou be so blest to out-date Times That when Heavens Quire shall blaze in Accents loud The many Mercies of their soveraigne Good How he on thee did Sin Death Hell destroy It may be still the Burthen of their Joy BEneath a sable vaile and Shadows deep Of unaccessible and dimming light In silence Ebon clouds more black than Night The Worlds great Mind his secrets hid doth keep Through those thick Mists when any mortall Wight Aspires with halting pace and Eyes that weep To pry and in his Mysteries to creep With Thunders he and Lightnings blasts their Sight O Sun invisible that dost abide Within thy bright abysmes most faire most darke Where with thy proper Raies thou dost thee hide O ever-shining never full-seene marke To guide me in Lifes Night thy light me show The more I search of thee the lesse I know IF with such passing Beauty choice Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible short lists of Fame And silly Mansion but of dying Wights How many Wonders what amazing lights Must that triumphing Seat of Glory claime That doth transcend all this All 's vaste hights Of whose bright Sun ours here is but a beame O blest abode O happy dwelling-place Where visibly th' Invisible doth raigne Blest People which do see true Beauties Face With whose far Shadows scarce he Earth doth daigne All Joy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Maâ—ch'd with your endlesse Blisse and happy life LOve which is here a care That Wit and Will doth mar Uncertaine Truce and a most certaine War A shrill tempestuous Wind Which doth disturbe the Mind And like wild Waves all our designes commove Among those Pow'rs above Which see their Makers Face It a contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure void of Griefe a constant rest Eternall Joy which nothing can molest THat space where curled Waves do now divide From the great Continent our happy Isle Was sometime Land and now where Ships do glide Once with laborious Art the Plough did toyle Once those faire Bounds stretcht out so far and wide Where Towns no Shires enwall'd endeare each mile Were all ignoble Sea and marish vile Where Proteus Flocks danc'd measures to the Tide So Age transforming all still forward runs No wonder though the Earth doth change her Face New Manners Pleasures new turne with new Suns Locks now like Gold grow to an hoary grace Nay Minds rare shape doth change that lies despis'd Which was so deare of late and highly priz'd THis World a Hunting is The Prey poore Man the Nimrod fierce is Death His speedy Grayhounds are Lust Sicknesse Envy Care Strife that ne're falls amiss With all those ills which haunt us while we breath Now if by chance we flie Of these the eager chace Old Age with stealing pace Casts on his Nets and there we panting die WHy Worldlings do ye trust fraile Honours dreames And leane to guilted Glories which decay Why do ye toyle to registrate your Names On Ycie Pillars which soon melt away True Honour is not here that place it claimes Where black-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no far-shining lampe dives in the Sea But an eternall Sun spreads lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sp'rits stand gazing on their soveraigne Blisse Where yeares not hold it in their cank'ring hands But who once noble ever noble is Look home lest he your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall AS are those Apples pleasant to the Eye But full of smoake within which use to grow Neere that strange Lake where God powr'd from the Skie Huge show'rs of flames worse flames to overthrow Such are
Caledonian Crown Thy vertues now thy just desire shall grace Sterne Chance shall change and to Desert give place Let this be known to all the Fates admit To their grave Counsell and to every wit That courts Heavens inside this let Sibills know And those mad Corybants who dance and glow On Dindimus high tops with frantick fire Let this be known to all Apollo's Quire And People let it not be hid from you What Mountaines noyse and flouds proclaime as true Whereever Fame abroad his praise shall ring All shall observe and serve this blessed King The End of King Charles his Entertainment at Edenborough 1633. A Pastorall Elegie on the Death of S. W. A. IN sweetest prime and blooming of his Age Deare Alcon ravish'd from this mortall Stage The Shepheards mourn'd as they him lov'd before Among the Rout him Edmon did deplore Idmon who whether Sun in East did rise Or dive in West pour'd Torrents from his Eyes Of liquid Chrystall under Hawthorne shade At last to Trees and Rocks this plaint he made Alcon delight of Heaven desire of Earth Off-spring of Phoebus and the Muses birth The Graces Darling Adon of our Plaines Flame of the fairest Nymphs the Earth sustaines What Power of thee hath us bereft What Fate By thy untimely fall would ruinate Our hopes O Death what treasure in one houre Hast thou dispersed How dost thou devoure What we on earth hold dearest All things good Too envious Heavens how blast ye in the Bud The Corne the greedy Reapers cut not down Before the Fields with golden Eares it crown Nor doth the verdant Fruits the Gardener pull But thou art cropt before thy yeares were full With thee sweet youth the Glories of our Fields Vanish away and what contentments yields The Lakes their silver look the woods their shades The Springs their Christall want their Verdure Meads The yeares their early seasons cheerfull Dayes Hills gloomy stand now desolate of Rayes Their amorous whispers Zephires not us bring Nor do Aires Quiresters salute the Spring The freezing winds our Gardens do defloure Ah Destinies and you whom Skies embow'r To his faire Spoiles his Spright againe yet give And like another Phoenix make him live The Herbs though cut sprout fragrant from their stems And make with Crimson blush our Anademâ— The Sun when in the West he doth decline Heavens brightest Tapers at his Funeralls shine His Face when washt in the Atlantick Seas Revives and cheeres the Welkin with new Raies Why should not he since of more pure a Frame Returne to us againe and be the same But wretch what wish I To the winds I send These Plaints and Prayers Destines cannot lend Thee more of Time nor Heavens consent will thus Thou leave their starry World to dwell with us Yet shall they not thee keep amidst their Spheares Without these lamentations and Teares Thou wast all Vertue Courtesie and Worth And as Suns light is in the Moon set forth Worlds supreame Excellence in thee did shine Nor though eclipsed now shalt thou decline But in our Memories live while Dolphins streames Shall haunt whilst Eaglets stare on Titans beames Whilst Swans upon their Christall Tombes shall sing Whilst Violets with Purple paint the Spring A gentler Shepheard Flocks did never feed On Albions Hills nor sung to oaten Reed While what she found in Thee my Muse would blaze Griefe doth distract Her and cut short thy Praise How oft have we inviron'd by the Throng Of tedious Swaines the cooler shades among Contemn'd Earths glow-worme Greatnesse and the Châ—ce Of Fortune scorn'd deeming it disgrace To court unconstancy How oft have we Some Chloris Name graven in each Virgin Tree And finding Favours fading the next Day What we had carv'd we did deface away Woefull Remembrance Nor Time nor Place Of thy abodement shadows any Trace But there to me Thou shin'st late glad Desires And ye once Roses how are ye turned Bryers Contentments passed and of Pleasures Chiefe Now are ye frightfull Horrours Hells of Griefe When from thy native Soyle Love had Thee driven Thy safe returne Prefigurating a Heaven Of flattering Hopes did in my Fancy move Then little dreaming it should Atomes prove These Groves preserve will I these loved Woods These Orchards rich with Fruits with Fish these flouds My Alcon will returne and once againe His chosen Exiles he will entertaine The populous City holds him amongst Harmes Of some fierce Circe's stronger Charmes These Bankes said I he visit will and Streames These silent shades ne're kist by courting Beames Far far off I will meet him and I first Shall him approaching know and first be blest With his Aspect I first shall heare his voice Him find the same he parted and rejoyce To learne his passed Perills know the Sports Of forraine Shepheards Fawns and Fairy Courts No pleasure to the Fields an happy State The Swaines enjoy secure from what they hate Free of proud Cares they innocently spend The Day nor do black Thoughts their ease offend Wise Natures Darlings they live in the World Perplexing not themselves how it is hurld These Hillocks Phoebus loves Ceres these Plaines Thâ—se Shades the Sylvans and here Pales straines Milke in the Pailes the Maids which haunt the Springs Daunce on these Pastures here Amintas sings Hesperian Gardens Tempe's shades are here Or what the Easterne Inde and West hold deare Come then deare Youth the Wood-nymphs twine thee Boughs With Rose and Lilly to impale thy Brows Thus ignorant I mus'd not conscious yet Of what by Death was done and ruthlesse Fate Amidst these Trances Fame thy losse doth sound And through my Eares gives to my Heart a wound With stretched-out Armes I sought thee to embrace But clasp'd amaz'd a Coffin in thy Place A Coffin of our Joyes which had the Trust Which told that thou wert come but chang'd to Dust Scarce even when felt could I beleeve this wrack Nor that thy Time and Glory Heavens would breake Now since I cannot see my Alcons Face And find nor Vows nor Prayers to have place With guilty Stars this Mountaine shall become To me a sacred Altar and a Tombe To famous Alcon here as Daies Monthâ— Yeares Do circling glide I sacrifice will teares Here spend my remnant Time exil'd from Mirth Till Death at last turne Monarch of my Earth Shepheards on Forth and you by Doven Rocks Which use to sing and sport and keep your Flocks Pay Tribute here of Teares ye never had To aggravate your Moanes a cause more sad And to their sorrows hither bring your Mands Charged with sweetest flow'rs and with pure Hands Faire Nymphs the blushing Hyacinth and Rose Spred on the Place his Relicts do enclose Weave Garlands to his Memory and put Over his Hearse a Verse in Cypres cut Vertue did dye Goodnesse but harme did give After the noble Alcon ceas'd to live Friendship an Earthquake suffer'd losing Him Loves brightest Constellation turned Dim Hymne SAviour of Mankind Man Emanuel Who sinlesse died for Sin who
art not Great Nor glorious By this Monument turne wise One it enshrineth sprung of ancient stemm And if that Bloud Nobility can make From which some Kings have not disdain'd to take Their proud Descent a rare and matchlesse Gemm A Beauty here it holds by full assurance Than which no blooming Rose was more refin'd Nor Mornings Blush more radiant ever shinâ—d Ah! too too like to Morne and Rose at last It holds her who in Wits ascendant far Did Yeares and Sex transcend To whom the Heaven More Vertue than to all this Age had given For Vertue Meteor turn'd when she a star Faire Mirth sweet Conversation Modesty And what those Kings of Numbers did conceive By Muses Nine and Graces moe than Three Lye clos'd within the Compasse of this Grave Thus Death all Earthly glories doth confound Loe how much Worth a little Dust doth bound FAr from these Bankes exiled be all Joyes Contentments Pleasures Musick cares reliefe Tears Sighs Plaints Horrours Frightments sad Annoies Invest these Mountaines fill all Hearts with Griefe Here Nightingals and Turtles vent your moanes Amphrisian Shepheard here come feed thy Flocke And read thy Hyacinth amidst our Groanes Plaine Eccho thy Narcissus from our Rocks Lost have our Meads their Beauty Hills their Gemms Our Brooks their Christall Groves their pleasant shade The fairest Flow'r of all our Anademms Death cropped hath the Lesbia chaste is dead Thus sigh'd the Tyne then shrunke beneath his Urne And Meads Brooks Rivers Hills about did mourne THe Flower of Virgins in her Prime of yeares By ruthlesse Destinies is ta'ne away And rap'd from Earth poore Earth before this Day Which ne're was rightly nam'd a Vale of Teares Beauty to Heaven is fled sweet Modesty No more appeares She whose harmonious sounds Did ravish Sense and charme Minds deepest wounds Embaulm'd with many a Teare now low doth lye Faire Hopes now vanish'd are She should have grac'd A Princes Marriage-Bed but loe in Heaven Blest Paramours to her were to be given She liv'd an Angell now is with them plac'd Vertue is but a Name abstractly trimm'd Interpreting what she was in effect A shaddow from her Frame which did reflect A Pourtrait by her Excellencies limm'd Thou whom free-will or chance hath hither brought And read'st Here lies a Branch of Maitlands stemm And Sâ—ytons Off-spring know that either Name Designes all worth yet reacht by humane Thought Tombes else-where use Life to their Guests to give These Ashes can fraile Monuments make live Another on the same subject LIke to the Gardens Eye the Flower of Flow'rs With purple Pompe that dazle doth the Sight Or as among the lesser Gems of Night The Usher of the Planet of the Houres Sweet Maid thou shinedst on this World of ours Of all Perfectiâ—ns having trac'd the hight Thine outward frame was faire faire inward Powers A Saphire Lanthorne and an incense light Hence the enamour'd Heaven as too too good On Earths all-thorny soyle long to abide Transplanted to their Fields so rare a Bud Where from thy Sun no cloud thee now can hide Earth moan'd her losse and wish'd she had the grace Not to have known or known thee longer space HArd Laws of mortall Life To which made Thrales we come without consent Like Tapers lighted to be early spent Our Griefes are alwaies rife When joyes but halting march and swiftly fly Like shadows in the Eye The shadow doth not yeeld unto the Sun But Joyes and Life do waste even when begun On the Death of a Nobleman in Scotland buried at Aithen AIthen thy Pearly Coronet let fall Clad in sad Robes upon thy Temples set The weeping Cypresse or the sable Jet Mourne this thy Nurslings losse a losse which all Apollos Quire bemoanes which many yeares Cannot repaire nor Influence of Spheares Ah! when shalt thou find Shepheard like to him Who made thy Bankes more famous by his worth Then all those Gems thy Rocks and Streams send forth His splendor others Glow-worm light did dim Sprung of an ancient and a vertuous Race He Vertue more than many did embrace He fram'd to mildnesse thy halfe-barbarous swaines The Good-mans Refuge of the bad the fright Unparaleld in friendship worlds Delight For Hospitality along thy Plaines Far-fam'd a Patron and a Patterne faire Of Piety the Muses chiefe repaire Most debonaire in Courtesie supreame Lov'd of the meane and honour'd by the Great Ne're dasht by Fortune nor cast down by Fate To present and to after Times a Theame Aithen thy Teares poure on this silent Grave And drop them in thy Alabaster cave And Niâ—bes Imagery become And when thou hast distilled here a Tombe Eâ—chace in it thy Pearls and let it beare Aithens best Gem and honour shrin'd lies here FAme Register of Time Write in thy Scrowle that I Of Wisdome Lover and sweet Poesie Was cropped in my Prime And ripe in worth though green in yeares did dye IUstice Truth Peace and Hospitality Friendship and Love being resolv'd to dye In these lewd Times have chosen here to have With just true pious their Grave Them cherish'd he so much so much did grace That they on Earth would choose none other Place WHen Death to deck his Trophees stop thy breath Rare Ornament and Glory of these Parts All with moist Eyes might say and ruthfull hearts That things immortall vassal'd were to Death What Good in Parts on many shar'd we see From Nature gracious Heaven or Fortune flow To make a Master-Piece of worth below Heaven Nature Fortune gave in grosse to Thee In Honour Bounty Rich in Valour Wit In Courtesie Borne of an ancient Race With Bayes in war with Olives crown'd in Peace Match'd great with Off-spring for great Actions fit No Rust of Times nor Change thy Vertue wan With Times to change when Truth Faith Love decay'd In this new Age like Fate thou fixed stay'd Of the first World an all-substantiall Man As earst this Kingdome given was to thy Syre The Prince his Daughter trusted to thy Care And well the credit of a Gem so rare Thy loyalty and merit did require Yeares cannot wrong thy Worth that now appeares By others set as Diamonds among Pearles A Queens deare Foster Father to three Earles Enough on Earth to triumph are o're yeares Life a Sea-voyage is Death is the Haven And fraught with honour there thou hast arriv'd Which Thousands seeking have on Rocks been driven That Good adornes thy Grave which with thee liv'd For a fraile Life which here thou didst enjoy Thou now a lasting hast â—reed of Annoy WIthin the Closure of thiâ— Narrow Grave Lye all those Graces a Good-wife could have But on this Marble they shall not be read For then the Living envy would the Dead THe Daughter of a King of Princely Parts In Beauty eminent in Vertues chiefe Loadstar of Love and Loadstone of all hearts Her Friends and Husbands only Joy now Griefe Is here pent up within a Marble Frame Whose Paralell no Times no Climates claime VErses fraile Records are to keep a Name Or raise from Dust Men to a Life of Fame The sport and spoyle of Ignorance but far More fraile the Frames of Touch and Marble are Which envy Avarice Time e're long confound Or mis-devotion equalls with the Ground Vertue alone doth last frees man from Death And though despis'd and scorned here beneath Stands grav'n in Angels Diamantine Roles And blazed in the Courts above the Poles Thou wast faire Vertues Temple they did dwell And live ador'd in thee nought did excell But what thou either didst possesse or love The Oraces Darling and the maids of Jove Courted by Fame for Bounties which the Heaven Gave thee in great which if in Parcels given Too many such we happy sure might call How happy then wast thou who enjoyedst them all A whiter Soule ne're body did invest And now sequestred cannot be but blest Inroâ—â—'d in Glory ' midst those Hierarchies Of that immortall People of the Skies Bright Saints and Angels there from cares made free Nought doth becloud thy soveraign Good from Thee Thou smil'st at Earths Confusions and Jars And how for Centaures Children we wage wars Like honey Flies whose rage whole swarmes consumes Till Dâ—st thrown on them makes them vaile their plumes Thy friends to thee a Monument would raise And â—imne thy Vertues but dull griefe thy Praise Breakes in the Entrance and our Taske proves vaine What duty writes that woe blotâ— out againe Yet Love a Pyramid of Sighs thee reares And doth embaulme thee with Fare-wells and Teares Rose THough Marble Porphyry and mourning Touch May praise these spoiles yet can they not too much For Beauty last and this Stone doth close Once Earths Delight Heavens care a purest Rose And Reader shouldst thou but let fall a Teare Upon it other flow'rs shall here appeare Sad Violets and Hyacinths which grow With markes of griefe a publike losse to show II. Relenting Eye which dâ—ignest to this Stone To lend a look behold here he laid one The Living and the Dead interr'd for Dead The Turtle in its Mate is and she fled From Earth her choos'd this Place of Griefe To bound Thoughts a small and sad Reliefe His is this Monument for hers no Art Could frame a Pyramide rais'd of his Heart III. Instead of Epitaphs and airy praise This Monument a Lady chaste did raise To her Lords living fame and after Death Her Body doth unto this Place bequeath To rest with his till Gods shrill Trumpet sound Though time her Life no time her loâ—â— could bound To Sir W. A. THough I have twice been at the Doores of Death And twice found shut those Gates which ever mourn This but a Lightning is Truce ta'ne to Breath For late borne sorrows augure fleet return Amidst thy sacred Cares and Courtly Toyles Alexis when thou shalt heare wandring Fame Tell Death hath triumph'd o're my mortall Spoyles And that on Earth I am but a sad Name If thou e're held me deare by all our Love By all that Blisse those Joyes Heaven here us gave I conjure thee and by the Maids of Jove To grave this short remembrance on my Grave Here Damon lies whose Songs did sometime grace The murmuring Esk may Roses shade the place FINIS
pale remaine Dead is that Beauty which yours late did staine Aye me to waile my Plight Why have not I as many Eyes as Night Or as that Shepheards which Joves love did keep That I still still may weepe But though I had my Teares unto my crosse Wâ—re not yet equall nor griefe to my losse Yet of you briny Showers Which I â—ere poure may spring as many flow'rs As come of those which fell from Helens Eyes And when ye do arise May every Leafe in sable letters beare The Dolefull Cause for which ye spring up here MAD. THe Beauty and the Life Of Lifes and Beauties fairest Paragon O Teares O Griefe hung at a feeble Thread To which pale Atropos had set her Knife The Soule with many a groane Had left each outward Part And now did take his last Leave of the Heart Nought else did want save Death for to be dead When the sad company about her Bed Seeing Death invade her lips her cheekes her eyes Cried ah and can Death enter Paradise SON O! It is not to me bright Lampe of Day That in the East thou show'sts thy golden Face O! it is not to me thou leav'st that sea And in those azure Lists began'st thy Race Thou shinest not to the Dead in any Place And I dead from this World am past away Or if I seem a Shadow yet to stay It is a while but to bewaile my Case My Mirth is lost my Comforts are dismaid And unto sad Mishaps their Place do yeeld My Knowledge represents a bloudy Field Where I my Hopes and helps see prostrate laid So plaintfull is Lifes Course which I have run That I do wish it never had begun MADRIGALL DEare Night the ease of Care Untroubled Seat of Peace Times eldest Child which oft the blind do see On this our Hemispheare What makes thee now so sadly darke to be Com'st thou in funerall Pomp Her Grave to grace Or do those Stars which should thy horrour cleare In Joves high Hall advise In what Part of the skies With them or Cynthia she shall appeare Or ah alas because those matchlesse eyes Which shone so faire below thou dost not find Striv'st thou to make all others Eyes look blind SON SInce it hath pleas'd that First and supreme Faire To take that Beauty to himselfe againe Which in this world of Sense not to remaine But to amaze was sent and home repaire The Love which to that Beauty I did beare Made Pure of mortall spots which did it staine And endlesse which even Death cannot impaire I place on him who will it not disdaine No shining Eyes no Locks of curling gold No blushing Roses on a virgin Face No outward show no nor no inward Grace Shall power have my thoughts henceforth to hold Love here on Earth huge stormes of care doth tosse But plac'd above exempted is from losse SONG IT Autumne was and on our Hemispheare Faire Ericine began bright to appeare Night West-ward did her gemmy World decline And hide her Lights that greater Light might shine The crested Bird hath given Alarum twice To lazy Mortals to unlock their Eyes The Owle had left to plaine and from each Throne The wing'd Musicians did salute the Morne Who while she dress'd her Locks in Ganges streames Set open wide the chrystall Port of Dreames When I whose Eyes no drousie Night could close In Sleeps soft armes did quietly repose And for that Heavens to die did me deny Deaths Image kissed and as dead did lie I lay as dead but scarce chaâ—m'd were my Cares And slaked scarce my Sighs scarce dried my Teares Sleep scarce the ugly Figures of the Day Had with his sable Pencill put away And left me in a still and calmy Mood When by my Bed me thought a Virgin stood A Virgin in the blooming of her Prime If such rare Beauty measur'd be by Time Her Head a Garland wore of Opalls bright About her flow'd a Gown like purest Light Pure Amber Locks gave Umbrage to her Face Where Modesty high Majesty did grace Her Eyes such Beames sent forth that but with paine Her weaker Sights their sparklings could sustaine No feigned Dâ—ity which haunts the Woods Is like to Her nor Syrene of the Floods Such is the Golden Planet of the Yeare When blâ—shing in the East he doth appeare Her Grace did beauty Voice yet Grace did passe Which thus through Pearles and Rubies broken was How long wilt thou said she estrang'd from Joy Paint Shadows to thy selfe of false Annoy How long thy Mind with horrid Shapes affright And in imaginary Evills delight Esteeme that Losse which well when view'd is Gaine Or if a Losse yet not a Losse too plaine O leave thy plainâ—full Soule more to molest And thinke that woe when shortest then is best If She for whom thou thus dost deafe the Skie Be dead What then Was she not borne to die Was She not mortall borne If thou dost grieve That Times should be in which She should not live Ere e're she was weep that Daies wheele was roll'd Weep that she liv'd not in the Age of Gold For that she was not then thou maiest deplore As well as that she now can be no more If only she had died thou sure hadst Cause To blame the Fates and their too iron Laws But look how many Millions her advance What numbers with her enter in this Dance With those which are to come shall Heavens them stay And th' Universe dissolve thee to obey As Birth Death which so much thee doth apall A Peece is of the Life of this great All. Strong Cities die die do high palmy Raignes And fondling thou thus to be us'd complaines If she be dead then she of loathsome Daies Hath pass'd the Line whose Length but Losse bewraies Then she hath left this filthy Stage of Care Where Pleasure seldome Woe doth still repaire For all the Pleasures which it doth containe Not countervaile the smallest Minutes paine And tell me thou who dost so much admire This little Vapour this poore Sparke of Fâ—re Which Life is call'd what doth it thee bequeath But some few yeares which Birth draws out to Death Which if thou paralell with Lustres run Or those whose courses are but now begun In daâ—es great Numbers they shall lesse appeare Than with the Sea when matched is a Teare But why shouldst thou here longer wish to be One Yeare doth serve all Natures Pompe to see Nay even one Day and Night this Moone that Sun Those lesser Fires about this Round which Run Be but the same which under Saturnes Raigne Did the serpenting Seasons interchaine How oft doth Life grow lesse by living long And what excelleth but what dieth young For Age which all abhor yet would embrace Doth make the Mind as wrinckled as the Face Then leave Laments and thinke thou did'st not live Laws to that first eternall Cause to give But to obey those Laws which he hath given And bow unto the just decrees of Heaven Which cannot
end To kisse the Earth at last he did pretend And bowing down besought with humble grace An aged Woman neare to give some place She turn'd and turning up her Hole beneath Said Sir kisse here for it is all but Earth Proteus of Marble THis is no work of Stone Though it seems breathlesse cold and sense hath nonâ— But that 〈◊〉 God which keeps The monstroâ—â— people of the raging Deeps Now that he doth not change his shape this while It is thus constant more you to beguile Pamphilus SOme Ladies wed some love and some adore them I like their wanton sport then care not for them Apelles enamour'd of Campaspe Alexanders Mistris POore Painter while I sought To counterfeit by Art The fairest Frame which Nature ever wrought And having limm'd each Part Except her matchlesse Eyes Scarce on those Suns I gaz'd As Lightning falls from Skies When straight my Hand grew weake my Mind amazd And ere that Pencill halfe them had exprest Love had them drawn no grav'd them in my Brest Campaspe ON Stars shall I exclaime Which thus my Fortune change Or shall I else revenge Upon my selfe this shame Inconstant Monarch or shall I thee blame Who lets Apelles prove The sweet Delights of Alexanders Love No Stars my selfe and thee I all forgive And Joyes that thus I live Of thee blind King my Beauty was despis'd Thou didst not know it now being known 't is priz'd Cornucopia IF for one only Horne Which Nature to him gave So famous is the noble Unicorne What praise should that Man have Whose Head a Lady brave Doth with a goodly paire at once adorne Love suffers no Parasol THose Eyes deare Eyes be Spheares Where two bright Suns are roll'd That faire Hand to behold Of whitest Snow appeares Then while ye coyly stand To hide from me those Eyes Sweet I would you advise To chuse some other fanne than that white Hand For if ye do for truth most true this know Those Suns ere long must needs consume warme Snow Unpleasant Musick IN fields Ribaldo stray'd Mayes Tapestry to see And hearing on a Tree A Cuckow sing sigh'd to himselfe and said Loe how alas even Birds sit mocking me Sleeping Beauty O Sight too dearely bought Shee sleeps and though those Eyes Which lighten Cupids Skies Be clos'd yet such a grace Environeth that Place That I through Wonder to grow faint am brought Suns if ecclips'd you have such power divine What power have I t' endure you when you shine Alcons Kisse WHat others at their Eare Two Pearles Camilla at her Nose did weare Which Alcon who nought saw For Love is blind robb'd with a pretty Kisse But having known his misse And felt what Ore he from that Mine did draw When she to come again did him desire He fled and said foule Water quenched Fire The Statue of Venus sleeping PAssenger vexe not thy Mind To make me mine Eyes unfold For if thou shouldst them behold Thine perhaps they will make blind Laura to Petrarch I Rather love a Youth and childish Rime Than thee whose Verse and Head are wise through Time The Rose FLow'r which of Adons Bloud Sprang when of that cleare Floud Which Venus wept another white was borne The sweet Cynarean Youth thou lively shows But this sharpe-pointed Thorne So proud about thy Crimsin Folds that grows What doth it represent Boares Teeth perhaps his milk-white Flanke which rent O show in one of unesteemed Worth That both the kill'd and killer setteth forth A Lovers Prayer NEare to a Christall Spring With Thirst and Heat opprest Narcissa faire doth rest Trees pleasant Trees which those green plains forth bring Now interlace your trembling Tops above And make a Canopy unto my Love So in Heavens highest House when Sun appeares Aurora may you cherish with her Teares Iolas Epitaph HEre deare Iolas lies Who whilst he liv'd in Beauty did surpasse That Boy whose heavenly Eyes Brought Cypris from above Or him to death who look'd in watry Glasse Even Judge the God of Love And if the Nymph once held of him so deare Dorine the faire would here but shed one Teare Thou shouldst in Natures scorne A Purple Flow'r see of this Marble borne The Trojan Horse A Horse I am who bit Reine rod Spur do not feare When I my Riders beare Within my Wombe not on my Back they sit No streames I drinke nor care for Grasse or Corne Art me a Monster wrought All Natures workes to scorne A Mother I was without Mother borne In end all arm'd my Father I forth brought What thousand Ships and Champions of renowne Could not do free captiv'd I raz'd Troy's Town For Dorus. WHy Nais stand ye nice Like to a well wrought Stone When Dorus would you kisse Denie him not that blisse He 's but a Child old Men be Children twice And even a Toothlesse one And when his Lips yours touch in that delight Ye need not feare he will those Cherries bite Love vagabonding SWeet Nymphs if as ye stray Ye find the froth-borne Goddesse of the Sea All blubb'red pale undone Who seeks her giddy Son That little God of Love Whose golden shafts your chastests Bosomes prove Who leaving all the Heavens hath run away If ought to him that finds him she 'll impart Tell her he nightly lodgeth in my Heart To a River SIth She will not that I She to the World my Joy Thou who oft mine annoy Hast heard deare Floud tell Thetis if thou can That not a happier Man Doth breathe beneath the Skie More sweet more white more faire Lips Hands and Amber Haire Tell none did ever touch A smaller daintier Waste Tell never was embrac't But peace since she forbids thee tell too much Lida SVch Lida is that who her sees Through Envy or through Love straight dies Phraene A Onian Sisters help my Phraenes Praise to tell Phraene heart of my heart with whom the Graces dwell For I surcharged am so sore that I not know What first to praise of 〈…〉 Brest or Neck of Snow Her Cheeks with Roses spred or her two Sun-like Eyes Her teeth of brightest pearl her lips where Sweetnes lies But those so praise themselves being to all Eyes set forth That Muses ye need not to say ought of their Worth Then her white swelling Paps essay for to make known But her white swelling paps through smallest vail are shown Yet She hath something else more worthy than the rest Not seen go sing of that which lies beneath her brest And mounts like fair Parnasse where Pegasse well doth run Here Phraene stay'd my Muse ere she had well begun Kisses desired THough I with strange Desire To kisse those rosie Lips am set on fire Yet will I cease to crave Sweet kisses in such store As he who long before In thousands them from Lesbia did receive Sweet heart but once me kisse And I by that sweet blisse Even sweare to cease you to importune more Poore one no number is Another Word of me ye shall not
wildest Pow'rs doth tame His Providence extending every-where His Justice which proud Rebels doth not spare In every Page no Period of the same But silly we like foolish Children rest Well pleas'd with colour'd Velum Leaves of Gold Faire dangling Ribbands leaving what is best On the great Writers sense ne're taking hold Or if by chance we stay our Minds on ought It is some Picture on the Margine wrought THe Griefe was common common were the cries Teares Sobs and Groanes of that afflicted Traine Which of Gods chosen did the Sum containe And Earth rebounded with them pierc'd were Skies All good had left the World each Vice did raign In the most monstrous sorts Hell could devise And all Degrees and each Estate did staine Nor further had to go whom to surprize The World beneath the Prince of Darknesse lay And in each Temple had himselfe install'd Was sacrific'd unto by Prayers call'd Responses gave which fooles they did obey When pittying Man God of a Virgines wombe Was borne and those false Deities strooke dumbe RUn Shepheards run where Bethlem blest appears We bring the best of News be not dismay'd A Saviour there is borne more old than yeares Amidst the rolling Heaven this Earth who stay'd In a poore Cottage Inn'd a Virgin Maid A weakling did him beare who all upbeares There he in Cloaths is wrapt in Manger laid To whom too narrow Swadlings are our Spheares Run Shepheards run and solemnize his Birth This is that Night no Day grown great with Blisse In which the Power of Satan broken is In Heaven be Glory Peace unto the Earth Thus singing through the Aire the Angels swame And all the Stars re-ecchoed the same O Than the fairest day thrice fairer night Night to best Daies in which a Sun doth rise Of which the golden Eye which cleares the Skies Is but a sparkling Ray a Shadow light And blessed ye in silly Pastors sight Mild Creatures in whose warme Crib now lies That Heaven-sent Youngling holy-Maid-born Wight ' Midst end beginning of our Prophesies Blest Cottage that hath Flow'rs in Winter spread Though withered blessed Grasse that hath the grace To deck and be a Carpet to that Place Thus singing to the sounds of oaten Reed Before the Babe the Shepheards bow'd their knees And Springs ran Nectar Honey dropt from Trees TO spread the azure Canopy of Heaven And make it twinkle with those spangs of Gold To stay the pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold To give strange motions to the Planets seven Or Jove to make so meek or Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet accords are given Lord to thy Wisdom's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come meanely in mortality to ' bide And die for those deserv'd eternall plight A wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to muse on it THe last and greatest Herauld of Heavens King Girt with rough Skins hies to the Desarts wild Among that savage brood the Woods forth bring Which he more harmelesse found than man and mild His food was Locusts and what there doth spring With Honey that from Virgine Hives distill'd Parcht Body hollow Eyes some uncouth thing Made him appeare long since from Earth exil'd There burst he forth all ye whose Hopes rely On God with me amidst these Desarts mourne Repent repent and from old errours turne Who list'ned to his voice obey'd his cry Only the Ecchoes which he made relent Rung from their flinty Caves repent repent THese Eyes deare Lord once Tapers of Desire Fraile Scouts betraying what they had to keep Which their own heart then others set on fire Their trait'rous black before thee here out-weep These Locks of blushing deeds the gilt attire Waves curling wrackfull shelves to shadow deep Rings wedding Soules to Sins lethargick sleep To touch thy sacred Feet do now aspire In Seas of care behold a sinking Barke By winds of sharpe remorse unto thee driven O let me not be Ruines aym'd at marke My faults confest Lord say they are forgiven Thus sigh'd to Jesus the Bethanian faire His teare-wet Feet still drying with her Haire I changed Countries new delights to find But ah for pleasure I did find new paine Enchanting Pleasure so did Reason blind That Fathers love and words I scorn'd as vaine For Tables rich for bed for following traine Of carefull servants to observe my Mind These Heards I keep my fellows are assign'd My Bed's a Rock and Herbs my Life sustaine Now while I famine feele feare worser harmes Father and Lord I turne thy Love yet great My faults will pardon pitty mine estate This where an aged Oake had spread its Armes Thought the lost Child while as the Heards he led And pin'd with hunger on wild Acorns fed IF that the World doth in amaze remaine To heare in what a sad deploring mood The Pelican poures from her brest her Bloud To bring to life her younglings back againe How should we wonder at that soveraigne Good Who from that Serpents sting that had us slaine To save our lives shed his Lifes purple flood And turn'd to endlesse Joy our endlesse Paine Ungratefull Soule that charm'd with false Delight Hast long long wander'd in Sins flowry Path And didst not thinke at all or thoughtst not right On this thy Pelicans great Love and Death Here pause and let though Earth it scorn heaven seâ— Thee poure forth tears to him pour'd Bloud for thee IF in the East when you do there behold Forth from his Christall Bed the Sun to rise With rosie Robes and Crowne of flaming Gold If gazing on that Empresse of the Skies That takes so many formes and those faire Brands Which blaze in Heavens high Vault Nights watchful eyes If seeing how the Seas tumultuous Bands Of bellowing Billows have their course confin'd How unsustain'd the Earth still stedfast stands Poore mortall Wights you e're found in your Mind A thought that some great King did sit above Who had such Laws and Rites to them assign'd A King who fix'd the Poles made Spheares to move All Wisdome Purenesse Excellency Might All Goodnesse Greatnesse Justice Beauty Love With feare and wonder hither turne your Sight See see alas him now not in that State Thought could fore-cast Him into Reasons light Now Eyes with tears now Hearts with griefe make great Bemoane this cruell Death and ruthfull case If ever Plaints just Woe could aggravate From Sin and Hell to save us humane Race See this great King nail'd to an abject Tree An object of reproach and sad disgrace O unheard Pity Love in strange degree He his own Life doth give his Bloud doth shed For Wormelings base such Worthinesse to see Poore Wights behold his Visage pale as Lead His Head bow'd to His Brest Locks sadly rent Like a cropt Rose that languishing doth fade Weake Nature weepe astonish'd World lament Lament you Winds
with winter glasse The ayry Caucasus the Apennine Pyrenes clifts where Sun doth never shine When he some craggy Hills hath ever-went Begins to thinke â—n rest his Journey spent Till mounting some tall Mountainâ— he do find More hights before him than he left behind With halting pace so while I would me raise To the unbounded limits of thy Praise Some part of way I thought to have o're-run But now I see how scarce I have begun With Wonders new my Spirits range possest And wandring waylesse in a maze them rest In these vaste Fields of Light etheriall Plaines Thou art attended by immortall Traines Of Intellectuall Pow'rs which thou broughtst forth To praise thy Goodnesse and admire thy Worth In numbers passing others Creatures far Since Creatures most noble maniest are Which do in knowledge us not lesse out-run Than Moon in light doth Stars or Moon the Sun Unlike in Orders rang'd and many a Band If Beauty in Disparity doth stand Arch-angels Angels Cherubs Seraphines And what with name of Thrones amongst them shines Large-ruling Princes Dominations Pow'rs All-acting Vertues of those flaming Tow'rs These freed of Umbrage these of Labour free Rest ravished with still beholding Thee Inflam'd with Beames which sparkle from thy Face They can no more desire far lesse embrace Low under them with slow and staggering pace Thy Hand-maid Nature thy great Steps doth trace The Source of second Causes golden Chaine That links this Frame as thou it doth ordaine Nature gaz'd on with such a curious Eye That Earthlings oft her deem'd a Deity By Nature led those Bodies faire and great Which faint not in their Course nor change their State Unintermixt which no disorder prove Though aye and contrary they alwaies move The Organs of thy Providence divine Books ever open Signâ—s that clearely shine Times purpled Maskers then do them advance As by sweet Musick in a measur'd dance Stars Hoste of Heaven ye Firmaments bright Flow'rs Cleare Lamps which overhang this Stage of ours Ye turne not there to deck the Weeds of Night Nor Pageant-like to please the vulgar Sight Great Causes sure ye must bring great Effects But who can descant right your grave Aspects He only who Yoâ— made decipher can Your Notes Heavens Eyes ye blind the Eyes of Man Amidst these Saphir far-extending Hights The never-twinkling ever-wandring Lights Their fixed Motions keep one dry and cold Deep-Leaden colour'd slowly there is roll'd With Rule and Line for Times steps meting even In twice three Lustres he but turnes his Heaven With temperate qualities and Countenance faire Still mildly smiling sweetly debonaire Another cheares the World and way doth make In twice sixe Autumnes through the Zodiack But hot and dry with flaming Locks and Brows Enrag'd this in his red Pavillion glows Together running with like speed â—f space Two equally in hands atchieve their race With blushing Face this oft doth bring the Day And ushers oft to stately Stars the way That various in vertue changing light With his small flame impearles the vaile of Night Prince of this Court the Sun in triumph rides With the Yeare Snake-like in her selfe that glides Times Dispensator faire life-giving Source Through Skies twelve Posts as he doth run his course Heart of this All of what is known to sence The likest to his Makers excellence In whose diurnall motion doth appeare A Shadow no true pourtrait of the Yeare The Moone moves lowest silver Sun of Night Dispersing through the World her borrow'd light Who in three formes her head abroad doth range And only constant is in constant Change Sad Queen of Silence I ne're see thy Face To waxe or waine or shine with a full grace But straight amaz'd on Man I think each Day His state who changeth or if he find Stay It is in dolefull anguish cares and paines And of his Labours Death is all the Gaines Immortall Monarch can so fond a Thought Lodge in my Brest as to trust thou first brought Here in Earths shady Cloyster wretched Man To suck the Aire of Woe to spend Lifes span ' Midst Sighs and Plaints a Stranger unto Mirth To give himselfe his Death rebucking Birth By sense and wit of Creatures made King By sense and wit to live their Underling And what is worst have Eaglets eyes to see His own disgrace and know an high degree Of Blâ—sse the Place if he might thereto clime And not live thralled to imperious Time Or dotard shall I so from Reason swerve To dim those Lights which to our use do serve For thou dost not them need more nobly fram'd Than us that know their course and have them nam'd No I ne're thinke but we did them surpasse As far as they do Asterismes of Glasse When thou us made by Treason high defil'd Thrust from our first estate we live exil'd Wandring this Earth which is of Death the Lot Where he doth use the Pow'r which he hath got Indifferent Umpire unto Clowns and Kings The supreame Monarch of all moâ—tall things When fiâ—st this flowry Oâ—be was to us given I but in place disvalu'd was to Heaven These Creatures which now our Soveraignes are And as to Rebels do denounce us war Then were our Vassals no tumultuous Storme No Thunders Earthquakes did her Forme deforme The Seas in tumbling Mountaines did not roare But like moist Christall whispered on the Shoare No Snake did trace her Meads nor ambusht lowre In azure Curles beneath the sweet-Spring Flow'r The Night shade Henbane Napell Aconite Her Bowels then not bare with Death to smite Her guiltlesse Brood thy Messengers of Grace As their high Rounds did haunt this lower Place O Joy of Joyes with our first Parents Thou To commune then didst daigâ—e as Friends do now Against thee we rebell'd and justly thus Each Creature rebelled against us Earth rest of what did chiefe in her excell To all became a Jaile to most a Hell In Times full Terme untill thy Son was given Who Man with Thee Earth reconcil'd with Heaven Whole and entire all in thy Selfe thou art All-where diffus'd yet of this All no part For infinite in making this faire Frame Great without Quantity in all thou came And filling all how can thy State admit Or Place or Substance to be void of it Were Worlds as many as the Rayes which streame From Daies bright lampe on madding Wits do dreame They would not reele in ought nor wandring stray But draw to Thee who could their Centers stay Were but one hours this World disjoyn'd from thee It in one houre to nought reduc'd should be For it thy Shadow is and can they last If sever'd from the Substances them cast O only blest and Author of all Blisse No Bliss it selfe that all where wished is Efficient exemplary finall Good Of thine own Selfe but only understood Light is thy Curtaine thou art Light of Light An ever-waking Eye still shining bright In-looking all exempt of passive Pow'r And change in change since Deaths pale shade doth low'r All Times to