637. Foco di Sdegno from Guarini 638. Risposta del Tasto 639. Winter 640. An Elegy on the Lord Hastings 655. The Battail of Yvry 657. POEMS On several Occasions To Coelia ODE I. GIve me my heart again fair Treachery You ravish'd from me with a smile Oh! let it in some nobler quarrel die Than a poor Trophy of your guile And Faith bright Coelia tell me what should you Who are all Falshood doe with one so true II. Or lend me yours awhile instead of it That I in time my skill may try Though ill I know it will my bosom fit To teach it some Fidelity Or that it else may teach me to begin To be to you what you to me have been III. False and imperious Coelia cease to be Proud of a Conquest is your shame You triumph o'er an humble Enemy Not one you fairly overcame Your eyes alone might have subdu'd my heart Without the poor confed'racy of Art. IV. But to the pow'r of Beauty you must add The Witchcraft of a sigh and tear I did admire before but yet was made By those to love they fix'd me there I else as other transient Lovers doe Had twenty lov'd e'er this as well as you V. And twenty more I did intend to love E'er twenty weeks are past and gone And at a rate so modish as shall prove My heart a very civil one But oh false fair I thus resolve in vain Unless you give me back my heart again The Expostulation I. HAve I lov'd my Fair so long Six Olympiads at least And to Youth and Beauties wrong On Vertues single Interest To be at last with ceorn oppress'd II. Have I lov'd that space so true Without looking once awry Lest I might prove false to you To whom I vow'd Fidelity To be repay'd with Cruelty III. Was you not oh sweet confess Willing to be so belov'd Favour gave my Flame encrease By which it still aspiring mov'd And had gone out if disapprov'd IV. Whence then can this change proceed Say or whither does it tend That false heart will one day bleed When it has brought so true a Friend To cruel and untimely end Sonnet WHat have I left to doe but dye Since Hope my old Companion That train'd me from my Infancy My Friend my Comforter is gone Oh fawning false deceiving Friend Accursed be thy Flatteries Which treacherously did intend I should be wretched to be wise And so I am for being taught To know thy guiles have only wrought My greater misery and pain My misery is yet so great That though I have found out the Cheat I wish for thee again in vain The Tempest I. STanding upon the margent of the Main Whilst the high boiling Tide came tumbling in I felt my fluctuating thoughts maintain As great an Ocean and as rude within As full of Waves of Depths and broken Grounds As that which daily laves her chalky bounds II. Soon could my sad Imagination find A Parallel to this half World of Floud An Ocean by my walls of Earth confin'd And Rivers in the Chanels of my Bloud Discovering man unhappy man to be Of this great Frame Heaven's Epitome III. There pregnant Argosies with full Sails ride To shoot the Gulphs of Sorrow and Despair Of which the Love no Pilot has to guide But to her Sea-born Mother steers by Pray'r When oh the Hope her Anchor lost undone Rolls at the mercy of the Regent Moon IV. 'T is my ador'd Diana then must be The Guid'ress to this beaten Bark of mine 'T is she must calm and smooth this troubled Sea And waft my hope over the vaulting Brine Call home thy venture Dian then at last And be as merciful as thou art chaste To Coelia ODE I. WHen Coelia must my old day set And my young morning rise In beams of joy so bright as yet Ne'er bless'd a Lovers eye My State is more advanc'd than when I first attempted thee I su'd to be a Servant then But now to be made Free. II. I 've serv'd my time Faithfull and True Expecting to be plac'd In happy Freedom as my due To all the Joys thou hast Ill Husbandry in Love is such A Scandal to Love's pow'r We ought not to mispend so much As one poor short-liv'd hour III. Yet think not Sweet I 'm weary grown That I pretend such haste Since none to surfeit e'er was known Before he had a taste My Infant Love could humbly wait When young it scarce knew how To plead but grown to Man's estate He is impatient now The Picture I. HOw Chloris can I e'er believe The Vows of Women kind Since yours I faithless find So faithless that you can refuse To him your shadow that to chuse You swore you could the substance give II. Is' t not enough that I must go Into another Clime Where Feather-footed Time May turn my Hopes into Despair My youthful Dawn to bristled Hair But that you add this torment too III. Perchance you fear Idolatry Would make the Image prove A Woman fit for love Or give it such a soul as shone Through fond Pigmalion's living stone That so I might abandon thee IV. O no! 't would fill my Genius room My honest one that when Frailty would love agen And failing with new objects burn Then Sweetest would thy Picture turn My wandring eyes to thee at home Elegy GOds are you just and can it be You should deal man his misery With such a liberal hand yet spare So meanly when his Joys you share Durst timorous Mortality Demand of this the reason why The Argument of all our Ills Would end in this that 't is your Wills. Be it so then and since 't is fit We to your harsh Decrees submit Farewell all durable content Nothing but woe is permanent How strangely in a little space Is my State chang'd from what it was When my Clorinda with her Rays Illustrated this happy place When she was here was here alass How sadly sounds that when she was That Monarch rul'd not under sky Who was so great a Prince as I And if who boasts most Treasure be The greatest Monarch I was he As seiz'd of her who from her Birth Has been the Treasure of the Earth But she is gone and I no more That mighty Sovereign but as poor Since stript of that my glorious trust As he who grovels in the dust Now I could quarrel Heav'n and be Ring-leader to a Mutiny Like that of the Gygantick Wars And hector my malignant Stars Or in a tamer method sit Sighing as though my heart would split With looks dejected armes across Mourning and weeping for a loss My sweet if kind as heretofore Can in two short-liv'd hours restore Some God then sure you are not all Deaf to poor Lovers when they call Commiserating my sad smart Touch fair Clorinda's noble heart To pitty a poor suâ—â—erer Disdains to sigh unless for her Some friendly Deity possess Her generous Breast with my distress Oh! tell her how I sigh away
that on their Fellows feed 8. The Air 's Inhabitants and scaly brood That live and wanton in the Flood And whatsoe'er does either swim or creep Thorough th'investigable Deep 9. Throughout the spacious Earth's extended frame How great is thy adored Name Advice I. GO thou perpetual whining Lover For shame leave off this humble Trade 'T is more than time thou gav'st it over For sighs and tears will never move her By them more obstinate she 's made And thou by Love fond constant Love betray'd II. The more vain Fop thou su'st unto her The more she does torment thee still Is more perverse the more you woo her When thou art humblest lays thee lower And when most prostrate to her will Thou meanly begg'st for life does basely kill III. By Heaven 't is against all Nature Honour and Manhood Wit and Sense To let a little Female Creature Rule on the poor account of Feature And thy unmanly patience Monstrous and shamefull as her Insolence IV. Thou may'st find forty will be kinder Or more compassionate at least If one will serve two hours will find her And half this ' doe for ever bind her As firm and true as thine own Breast On Love and Vertue 's double Interest V. But if thou canst not live without her This onely she when it comes to 't And she relent not as I doubt her Never make more adoe about her To sigh and whimper is no boot Go hang thy self and that will do 't Lyrick Ex Cornelio Gallo Trans LYdia thou lovely Maid whose white The Milk and Lilly does outvie The pale and blushing Roses light Or polish'd Indian Ivory Dishevel Sweet thy yellow hair Whose Ray doth burnish'd Gold disprize Disclose thy neck so white and fair That doth from snowy shoulders rise Virgin unvail those starry eyes Whose Sable brows like arches spread Unvail those Cheeks where the Rose lies Streak'd with the Tyrian Purple's red Lend me those Lips with Coral lin'd And kisses mild of Doves impart Thou ravishest away my mind Those gentle kisses wound my heart Why suck'st thou from my panting Breast The youthfull Vigour of my Bloud Hide those twin-apples ripe if press'd To spring into a milky Floud From thy expanded bosome breath Perfumes Arabia doth not know Thy ev'ry part doth love bequeath From thee all excellencies flow Thy bosome 's killing-white then shade Hide that temptation from mine eye See'st not I languish cruel Maid Wilt thou then go and let me die Amoret in Masquerade BLess me wonder how I 'm struck With that Youth 's victorious look So much Lustre so much Grace Never broke from humane face Fond Narcissus was an Ass Cynthia's Love a Moon-Calf was Ganimede that bears Iove's Boul Was a Chit Paris an Owl And Adonis with th'fine Miss Was a Puppy-Dog to this Women now lay by your Charms Here is one has other Arms And of greater power too Than your Megazines can shew All your Beauties all your Arts Conqu'ring or deceiving hearts You may spare and let alone We shall henceforth be by none Conquer'd but this peerless one Yet I have a Lover been Sev'ral Beauties I have seen Nor in Love am yet so rude But I 've often been subdu'd Nor so old but that again Once more struck I might have been By some Glances or some Features Of those little Female Creatures Had I but escap'd this night Seeing of this charming sight But now having seen those eyes I all Female force despise Yet my flame I can't approve 'T is but a prodigious love And there can be little joy In thus doating on a Boy Who although he love again Never can reward my pain Yet methinks it cannot be There is in 't some Mystery Nature sure would ne'er so use me Nor Instinct so much abuse me As my Reason thus to blind But there 's something in the wind â— have e'er a loather been Of the foul Italian Sin And yet know not where the bliss is â—n a little Stripling 's kisses My heart tells me to those eyes There belongs a pair of thighs â—Twixt whose Iv'ry Columns is Th'Ebor folding door to bliss And this Spring all that we see â—trut with such Formality â—uff and strive to look so big â— but Pallas in a Wigg And though his count'nance he doth set To a good pitch of counterfeit Yet he cannot hide the while â—enus dimple in his smile Were the Story not cold fled â—nd the party long since dead â—should swear a thousand Oaths Hellen 't were in Paris cloths But there I should wrong him yet Hellen was not half so sweet For all Greeks and Trojans arming Nor is Venus half so charming Pretty Monsieur I must pry More into your Symmetry Those fine Fingers were not made To be put to th'fighting trade And that pretty little arme Methinks threatens no great harm Wastes which Thimbles will environ Are not to be shell'd with Iron And those little Martin-nests Which swell out upon your Breasts With Steel are not to be press'd But whereon for Kings to rest Your soft Belly not unlike May sometimes feel push of Pike But there will be Balsom found In the Spear to heal the wound Nor those thighs yet by their leaves Were I take it made for Greaves Nor yet do you walk so wide As you us'd to ride astride But look your Saddle when you do Be well stuff'd and pummell'd too Next those pretty Legs and Feet Ne'er were spur'd and booted yet I dare swear it Come tell truth Are you not a cloven Youth See he laughs and has confess'd God-a-mercy for the Jest Monsieur Amoret let me Your Valet de Chambre be I will serve with humble duty Both your Valour and your Beauty You shall all day Master hight But my Mistriss Sir at night Which if you will please to grant To your humble Supplicant Since you wear your Wigg so â—eatly And become your Cloaths so neatly He has sworn who thus beseeches You shall always wear the Breeches Estreines To Calista I. I Reckon the first day I saw those eyes Which in a moment made my heart their prize To all my whole futurity The first day of my first new year Since then I first began to be And knew why Heaven plac'd me here For till we love and love discreetly too We nothing are nor know we what we doe II. Love is the Soul of Life though that I know Is call'd Soul too but yet it is not so Not rational at least untill Beauty with her diviner light Illuminates the groaping will And shews us how to chuse aright And that 's first prov'd by th' objects it refuses And by being constant then to that it chuses III. Days Weeks Months Years and Lustres take So small time up i' th' Lover's Almanack And can so little Love assuage That we in truth can hardly say When we have liv'd at least an Age A long one we have lov'd a day This day to me so slowly does time move Seems but
The tedious hours of the day Hating all light that does not rise From the gay Morning of her eyes Tell her that Friends which were to be Welcome to men in misery To me I know not how of late Are grown to be importunate My Books which once were wont to be My best beloved Company Are save a Prayer-book for Form Left to the Canker or the Worm My Study's Grief my Pleasure Care My Joys are Woe my Hope Despair Fears are my Drink deep Sighs my Food And my Companions Solitude Night too which Heav'n ordain'd to be Man's chiefest Friend 's my Enemy When she her Sable Curtain spreads The whole Creation make their beds And every thing on Earth is bless'd With gentle and refreshing Rest But wretched I more pensive made By the addition of that shade Am left alone with sorrow roar The grief I did but sigh before And tears which check'd by shame and light Do only drop by day by night No longer aw'd by nice respects Gush out in Flouds and Cataracts Ill life ah Love why is it so To me is measur'd out by woe Whilst she who is that life 's great light Conceals her Glories from my â—ight Say fair Clorinda why should he Who is thy Vertue 's Creature be More wretched than the rest of men Who love and are belov'd agen I know my passion not desert Has giv'n me int'rest in a heart Truer than ever Man possess'd And in that knowledge I am bless'd Yet even thence proceeds my care That makes your absence hard to bear For were you cruel I should be Glad to avoid your cruelty But happy in an equal flame I Sweetest thus impatient am Then since your presence can restore My heart the joy it had before Since lib'ral Heaven never gave To Woman such a pow'r to save Practise that Sovereign pow'r on one Must live or dye for you alone Taking leave of Chloris I. SHE sighs as if she would restore The life she took away before As if she did recant my doom And sweetly would reprieve me home Such hope to one condemn'd appears From every whisper that he hears But what do such vain hopes avail If those sweet sighs compose a gale To drive me hence and swell my sail II. See see she weeps Who would not swear That love descended in that tear Boasting him of his wounded prize Thus in the bleeding of her eyes Or that those tears with just pretence Would quench the fire that came from thence But oh they are which strikes me dead Chrystal her frozen heart has bred Neither in love nor pitty shed III. Thus of my merit jealous grown My happiness I dare not own But wretchedly her favours wear Blind to my self unjust to her Whose sighs and tears at least discover She pitties if not loves her Lover And more betrays the Tyrant's skill Than any blemish in her will That thus laments whom she doth kill IV. Pitty still Sweet my dying state My flame may sure pretend to that Since it was only unto thee I gave my life and liberty Howe'er my life's misfortune 's laid By love I 'm pitty's object made Pitty me then and if thou hear I 'm dead drop such another tear And I am paid my full arrear Song I. FIe pretty Doris weep no more Damon is doubtless safe on shoar Despight of wind and wave The life is Fate-free that you cherish And 't is unlike he now should perish You once thought fit to save II. Dry Sweet at last those twins of light Which whilst ecclips'd with us 't is night And all of us are blind The tears that you so freely shed Are both too pretious for the Dead And for the Quick too kind III. Fie pretty Doris sigh no more The Gods your Damon will restore From Rocks and Quick-sands free Your wishes will secure his way And doubtless he for whom you pray May laugh at Destiny IV. Still then those Tempests of your breast And set that pretty heart at rest The man will soon return Those sighs for Heav'n are only fit Arabian Gums are not so sweet Nor Off'rings when they burn V. On him you lavish grief in vain Can't be lamented nor complain Whilst you continue true That man's disaster is above And needs no pitty that does love And is belov'd by you Resolution in four Sonnets of a Poetical Question put to me by a Friend concerning four Rural Sisters Sonnet I. ALice is tall and upright as a Pine White as blaunch'd Almonds or the falling Snow Sweet as are Damask Roses when they blow And doubtless fruitful as the swelling Vine Ripe to be cut and ready to be press'd Her full cheek'd beauties very well appear And a year's fruit she loses e'ery year Wanting a man t' improve her to the best Full fain she would be husbanded and yet Alass she cannot a fit Lab'rer get To cultivate her to her own content Fain would she be God wot about her task And yet forsooth she is too proud to ask And which is worse too modest to consent Sonnet II. MArg'ret of humbler stature by the head Is as it oft falls out with yellow hair Than her fair Sister yet so much more fair As her pure white is better mixt with red This hotter than the other ten to one Longs to be put unto her Mothers trade And loud proclaims she lives too long a Maid Wishing for one t' untie her Virgin Zone She finds Virginity a kind of ware That 's very very troublesome to bear And being gone she thinks will ne'er be mist And yet withall the Girl has so much grace To call for help I know she wants the face Though ask'd I know not how she would resist Sonnet III. MAry is black and taller than the last Yet equal in perfection and desire To the one's melting snow and t'other's fire As with whose black their fairness is defac'd She pants as much for love as th' other two But she so vertuous is or else so wise That she will win or will not love a prize And but upon good terms will never doe Therefore who her will conquer ought to be At least as full of love and wit as she Or he shall ne'er gain favour at her hands Nay though he have a pretty store of brains Shall only have his labour for his pains Unless he offer more than she demands Sonnet IV. MArtha is not so tall nor yet so fair As any of the other lovely three Her chiefest Grace is poor simplicity Yet were the rest away she were a Star. She 's fair enough only she wants the art To set her Beauties off as they can doe And that 's the cause she ne'er heard any woo Nor ever yet made conquest of a heart And yet her bloud 's as boiling as the best Which pretty soul does so disturb her rest And makes her languish so she 's fit to die Poor thing I doubt she still must lie alone For being like to be attack'd by none
pure streams yet too polluted are With thine much purer to compare The rapid Garonne and the winding Seine Are both too mean Beloved Dove with thee To vie Priority Nay Tame and Isis when conjoyn'd submit And lay their Trophies at thy Silver Feet VIII Oh my beloved Rocks that rise To awe the Earth and brave the Skies From some aspiring Mountain's crown How dearly do I love Giddy with pleasure to look down And from the Vales to view the noble heights above IX Oh my beloved Caves from Dog-star heats And hotter Persecution safe Retreats What safety privacy what true delight In the artificial Night Your gloomy entrails make Have I taken do I take How oft when grief has made me fly To hide me from Society Even of my dearest Friends have I In your recesses friendly shade All my sorrows open laid And most secret woes entrusted to your privacy X. Lord would men let me alone What an over-happy one Should I think my self to be Might I in this desart place Which most men by their voice disgrace Live but undisturb'd and free Here in this despis'd recess Would I maugre Winter's cold And the Summer's worst excess Try to live out to sixty full years old And all the while Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile Contented live and then contented die Rondeau THou Fool if madness be so rife That spight of wit thou 'lt have a Wife I 'll tell thee what thou must expect After the Honey-Moon neglect All the sad days of thy whole Life To that a World of Woe and Strife Which is of Marriage the effect And thou thy woe 's own Architect Thou Fool Thou 'lt nothing find but disrespect Ill words i' th' scolding Dialect For she 'll all Tabor be or Fife Then prythee go and whet thy Knife And from this Fate thy self protect Thou Fool To Cupid I. FOnd Love deliver up thy Bow I am become more Love than thou I am as wanton grown and wild Much less a Man and more a Child From Venus born of chaster kind A better Archer though as blind II. Surrender without more adoe I am both King and Subject too I will command but must obey I am the Hunter and the Prey 〈◊〉 vanquish yet am overcome And Sentencing receive my Doom III. No springing Beauty scapes my Dart And ev'ry ripe one wounds my Heart Thus whilst I wound I wounded am And firing others turn to flame To shew how far Love can combine The Mortal part with the Divine IV. Faith quit thine Empire and come down That thou and I may share the Crown I 've tri'd the worst thy Arms can doe Come then and taste my power too Which howsoe'er it may fall short Will doubtless prove the better sport V. Yet do not for in Field and Town The Females are so loving grown So kind or else so lustfull we Can neither err though neither see Keep then thine own Dominions Lad Two Loves would make all Women mad To Aelia ODE POOR antiquated Slut forbear Thy Importunity's so strong â—t will I fear corrupt the Air And doe an universal wrong Be modest or I swear and vow I neither can nor will be kind Pox on 't now thou dost clam'rous grow There 's no enduring in the wind Whilst silence did thy thoughts betray I only was the sufferer But now thy Lungs begin to play All the whole Province suffers here Faith Aelia if thou be'st so hot That nor Satiety nor Age Can cool the over-boiling Pot Nor thy edullient Lust assuage Yet be so charitably kind Though damn'd thou art resolv'd to be As not to poyson all Mankind By fulsome importunity But sure 't is time we should give o'er And if I mourn my time mispent How much for fifty years of Whore Ought'st thou poor Aeliâ— to repent Yet if in spight of all advice Thou needs wilt importune me still I am not so reclaim'd from Vice But I can satisfie thy will And 't will to my advantage be For should I new amours begin Delight might damn me when with thee The penance expiates the sin Sonnet GOE false one now I see the cheat Your love was all a Counterfeit And I was gall'd to think that you Or any she could long be true How could you once so kind appear To kiss to sigh and shed a tear To cherish and caress me so And now not let but bid me go Oh Woman Frailty is thy name Since she 's untrue y' are all to blame And but in man no truth is sound 'T is a fair Sex we all must love it But on my conscience could we prove it They all are false ev'n under ground Stanzes de Monsieur Bertaud I. WHilst wishing Heaven in his ire Would punish with some judgment dire This heart to love so obstinate â—o say I love her is to lie Though I do love t'extremity Since thus to love her is to hate II. â—ut since from this my hatred springs â—hat she neglects my Sufferings And is unto my love ingrate â—y hatred is so full of â—lame â—ince from affection first it came That 't is to love her thus to hate III. I wish that milder Love or Death That ends our Miseries with our breath Would my affections terminate For to my Soul depriv'd of peace It is a torment worse than these Thus wretchedly to love and hate IV. Let Love be gentle or severe It is in vain to hope or fear His grace or rage in this estate Being I from my fair one's Spirit Nor mutual love nor hatred merit Thus foolishly to love and hate V. â—r if by my example here 〈◊〉 just and equal do appear She love and loath who is my fate â—rant me ye powers in this case â—oth for my punishment and grace That as I do she love and hate The eighth Psalm paraphrased â— O Lord our Governour whose potent sway All Pow'rs in Heav'n and Earth obey â—hroughout the spacious Earth's extended frame How great is thy adored Name â—hy Glories thou hast seated Lord on high Above the Empirean Sky 2. Out of the mouths of Infants newly come From the dark Closet of the Womb Thou hast ordained pow'rfull Truth to rise To baffle all thine Enemies That thou the furious Rage might'st calm agen Of bloudy and revengefull men 3. When on thy Glorious Heav'ns I reflect Thy work almighty Architect The changing Moon and Stars that thou hast madâ— T' illuminate night's sable shade 4. Oh! what is man think I that Heaven's King Should mind so poor a wretched thing Or Man's â—rail Off-spring that Almighty God Should stoop to visit his abode 5. For thou createdst him but one degree Below the Heav'nly Hierarchy Of bless'd and happy Angels and didst crown Frail Dust with Glory and Renown 6. Over the works of thy Almighty hand Thou giv'st him absolute command And all the rest that thou hast made Under his feet hast subject laid 7. All Sheep and Oxen and the wilder breed Of Beasts
too arrogant T' enslave your Beauties and your will And cruelty in you to grant Who saving one must Thousands kill And yet you Women take a pride To see men dye by your disdain But thou wilt weep the Homicide When thou consideâ—'st whom th' ast slain Yet don't for being as I am Thy Creature thou in this estate To Life and Death hast equal claim And may'st kill him thou did'st create Then let me thine own Doom abide Nor once for him o'recast thine eyes Who gloriâ—s that he liv'd and dy'd Thy Lover and thy Sacrifice Sonnet WHY dost thou say thy Heart is gone And no more mine no more thine own But past retrieve for ever wed By sacred Vow t' anothers Bed Why dost thou tell me that I lye Bound in the same perplexed tye And that our now divided Souls Are cold and distant as the Poles Do'st thou not know when first our Loves Were plighted in the secret Groves Our hearts were chang'd with equal Flame Say Chloris then how can it be Could'st thou give me or I give thee No no our selves are still the same Sonnet HOW should'st thou love and not offend Why Cloris I will tell thee how As thou did'st once so love me now And lye with me and there 's an end Thou only art enjoyn'd my Sweet To keep thy Reputation high And that indeed is Secrecy Since all do err though all not see 't Then fairest fearless of all blame That sacred Treasure of thy Name Into my faithful Arms commit Thou once did'st trust me with thy Fame I then was just and true to it And Chloris I am still the same Sonnet CHloris whilst thou and I were free Wedded to nought but Liberty How sweetly happy did we live How free to promise free to give Then Monarch's of our selves we might Love here or there to change delight And ty'd to none with all dispence Paying â—ach Love its recompence But in that happy freedom we Were so improvidently free To give away our liberties And now in fruitful sorrow pine At what we are what might have bin Had thou or I or both been wise Sonnet WHY dost thou say thou lov'st me now And yet proclaim it is too late When bound by folly or by Fate Thou can'st no further grace allow Repeat no more that killing Voice Thou beauteous Victrice of my heart Or find a way to ease my smart Maugre thy now repented choice 'T is not too late to love and do What Love and Nature prompt thee to Whilst thus thou tryumph'st in thy prime Thou may'st discreetly love and use Those Pleasures thou did'st once refuse But to profess it were a Crime Poverty Pindarick Ode I. THou greatest Plague that Mortals know Thou greatest Punishment That Heav'n has sent To quell and humble us below Thou worst of all Diseases and all Pains By so much harder to endure By how much thou art hard to cure Who having rob'd Physitians of their brains As well as of their Gain A Chronical Disease doth still remain What Epithet can fit thee or what words thy ills explain II. This puzzles quite Aesculapian Tribe Who where there are no Fees can have no wit And make them helpless Med'cines still provide Both for the sick and poor alike unfit For inward griefs all that they do prepare Nothing but Crumbs and Fragments are And outwardly apply no more But sordid Rags unto the sore Thus Poverty is drest and Dose't With little Art and little Cost As if poor Rem'dies for the Poor were fit When Poverty in such a place doth sit That 't is the grand Projection only that must conquer it III. Yet Poverty as I do take it Is not so Epidemical As many in the world would make it Who all that want their wishes Poor do call For if who is not with his Divident Amply content Within that acceptation fall Most would be poor and peradventure all This would the wretched with the rich confound But I not call him Poor does not abound But him who snar'd in Bonds and endless strife The Comforts wants more than Supports of Life Him whose whole Age is measur'd out by fears And though he has wherewith to eat His Bread does yet Tast of affliction and his Cares â—is purest Wine mix and allay with Tears IV. 'T is in this sence that I am poor And I 'me afraid shall be so still â—bstrep'rous Creditors besiege my door And my whole House clamorous Eccho's fill From these there can be no Retirement free From Room to Room they hunt and follow me They will not let me eat nor sleep nor pray But persecute me Night and Day Torment my body and my mind Nay if I take my heels and fly They follow me with open Cry At Home no rest Abroad no Refuge can I find V. Thou worst of Ills what have I done That Heav'n should punish me with thee From Insolence Fraud and Oppression I ever have been innocent and free Thou wer 't intended Poverty A scourge for Pride and Avarice I ne're was tainted yet with either Vice I never in prosperity Nor in the height of all my happiness Scorn'd or neglected any in distress My hand my heart my door Were ever open'd to the poor And I to others in their need have granted E're they could ask the thing they wanted Whereas I now although I humbly crave it Do only beg for Peace and cannot have it VI. Give me but that ye bloody Persecutors Who formerly have been my suitors And I 'le surrender all the rest For which you so contest For Heav'ns sake let me but be quiet I 'le not repine at Cloths nor Diet Any habit ne'r so mean Let it be but whole and clean Such as Nakedness will hide Will amply satisfie my pride And for meat Husks and Acorns I will eat And for better never wish But when you will me better treat A Turnip is a Princely dish Since then I thus far am subdu'd And so humbly do submit Faith be no more so monstrous rude But some Repose at least permit Sleep is to Life and Humane Nature due And that alas is all for which I humbly sue Death Pindarick Ode I. AT a Melancholick season As alone I musing sate I fell I know not how to reason With my self of Man's Estate How subject unto Death and Fate Names that Mortals so affright As turns the brightest Day to Night And spoils of Living the Delight With which so soon as Life is tasted Lest we should too happy be Even in our Infancy Our joys are quash't our hopes are blasted For the first thing that we hear Us'd to still us when we cry The Nurse to keep the Child in fear Discreetly tell 's it it must dy Be put into a hole eaten with worms Presenting Death in thousand ugly forms Which tender minds so entertain As ever after to retain By which means we are Cowards bred Nurs't with unnecessary dread â—nd ever dream of dying 'till w' are dead II.
doggrel she said would not doâ—â— It needs must be galloping doggrel to boot For Amblers and Trotters tho' th' had thousands of feet Could never however be made to be fleet But would make so damnable slow a progression They'd noâ— reach up to Westminster till the next Session Thus then unto thee my dear Brother and Sweeting In Canterbury Verse I send health and kind greeting Wishing thee honour but if thou bee'st cloy'd we't Above what thy Ancestâ—y ever enjoy'd yet May'st thou 〈◊〉 where â—ow seated without fear of blushing Till thy little fat 〈…〉 grow to the cushin Give his Majesty Moâ—y no mattter who pays it For we never can want it â—o long as he has it But wer 't Wisdom to trust sawcy Counsel in Letters I 'de advise thee beware falling out with thy betters I have heard of two Dogs once that fought for a bone But the Proverb 's so greazy I 'll let it alone A word is enough to the wise then resent it A rash Act than mended is sooner repented And as for the thing call'd a Traytor if any Be prov'd to be such as I doubt there 's too many Let him e'en be hang'd up and never be pray'd for What a pox were blocks gibbets and gallowses made for But I grow monstrous weary and how should I chuse This galloping Rhyme has quite jaded my Muse And I swear if thou look'st for more posting of hers Little K nt thou must needs lend her one of thy Spurs Farewel then dear Bully but ne're look for a Name For expecting no honour I will have no shame Yet that you may ghess at the Party that writes t' ee And not grope in the dark I 'll hold up these Lights t' ee For his Stature he 's but a contemptible Male And grown something swab with drinking good Ale His Looks than your brown a little thought brighter Which gray hairs make every year whiter whiter His Visage which all the rest mainly disgraces Is warp't or by Age or cutting of Faces So that whether 't were made so or whether 't were marr'd In good sooth he 's a very unpromising Bard His Legs which creep out of two old-fashion'd Knapsacks Are neither two Mill-posts nor yet are they trap-sticks They bear him when sober bestir 'em and spare not And who the Devil can stand when they are not Thus much for his Person now for his condition That 's sick enough full to require a Physician He always wants Mony which makes him want ease And he 's always besieg'd tho himself of the Peace By an Army of Duns who batter with Scandals And are Foemen more fierce than the Goths or the Vandals But when he does sally as somtimes he does Then hey for Bess Iuckson and a Fig for his Foes He 's good Fellow enough to do every one right And never was first that ask't what time of Night His delight is to toss the Cann merrily round And loves to be wet but hates to be drow'nd He fain would be just but sometimes he cannot Which gives him the trouble that other men ha' not He honours his Friend but he wants means to show it And loves to be rhyming but is the worst Poet. Yet among all these Vices to give him his due He has the Vertue to be a true Lover of you But how much he loves you he says you may ghess it Since nor Prose nor yet Meeter he swears can express it Stances de Monsieur Bertaud I. WHilst wishing Heaven in his ire Would punish with some Judgment dire This heart to Love so obstinate To say I love her is to lye Though I do love t' Extremity Since thus to love her is to hate II. But since from this my hatred Springs That she neglects my Sufferings And is unto my love ingrate My hatred is so full of flame Since from affection first it came That 't is to love her thus to hate III. I wish that milder Love or Death That ends our miseries with our Breath Would my Afflictions terminate For to my Soul depriv'd of peace It is a torment worse than these Thus wretchedly to love and hate IV. Let Love be gentle or severe It is in vain to hope or fear His grace or rage in this Estate Being I from my fair ones Spirit Nor mutual Love nor hatred merit Thus sencelesly to Love and Hate V. Or if by my Example here It just and equal do appear She love and loath who is my Fate Grant me ye Powers in this case Both for my punishment and grace That as I do she Love and Hate Contentment Pindarick Ode I. THou precious Treasure of the peaceful mind Thou Jewel of Inestimable price Thou bravest Soul 's Terrestrial Paradice Dearest Contentment thou best happiness That Man on Earth can know Thou greatest gift Heav'n can on Man bestow And greater than Man's Language can express Where highest Epithets would fall so low As only in our dearth of words to show A part of thy perfection a poor part Of what to us what in thy self thou art What Sin has banisht thee the World And in thy stead despairing Sorrow hurld Into the breasts of Humane kind Ah whether art thou fled who can this Treasure find II. No more on Earth now to be found Thou art become a hollow sound The empty name of something that of old Mankind was happy in but now Like a vain Dream or Tale that 's told Art vanisht hence we know not how Oh fatal loss for which we are In our own thoughts at endless War And each one by himself is made a Sufferer III. Yet 't were worth seeking if a Man knew where Or could but ghess of whom t' enquire But 't is not to be found on Earth I fear And who can best direct will prove a Lyar Or be himself the first deceiv'd By none but who 'd be cheated too to be believ'd IV. Shew me that Man on Earth that does prosess To have the greatest share of happiness And let him if he can Forbear to shew the Discontented Man A few hours Observation will declare Hee is the same that others are Riches will cure a Man of being poor But oft creates a thirst of having more And makes the Miser starve and pine amidst his store V. Or if a plentiful Estate In a good Mind good Thoughts create A generous Soul and free Will Mourn at least though not repine To want an overflowing Mine Still to supply a constant Charity Which still is Discontent what e're the Motive be VI. Th' ambitious who to place aspire When rais'd to that they did pretend Are restless still would still be higher For that 's a Passion has no end 'T is the minds Wolf a strange Disease That ev'n Saciety can't appease An Appetite of such a kind As does by feeding still increase And is to eat the more it eats inclin'd As the Ambitious mount the Sky New prospects still allure the Eye Which makes them upwards still
ships calk't ribs can quench that heat Nor thy Disdains which colder are Than Climats of the Northern Star Can freeze the Blood warm'd by thine Eye But Sweet I must thy Martyr dye II. 〈◊〉 canst thou know that losing thee â—he Vniverse is dead to me â—â—d I to it yet not become 〈◊〉 kind as to revoke my Doom â—â—â—tle Heart do if I remove â—ow can I hope t' atchieve thy love â—â—ot I shall 't a blessing call 〈◊〉 she who wounds may see my fall III. 〈◊〉 say thou lov'st and bid me go â—here never Sun his Face did show 〈◊〉 to what 's worse want of thy Light â—hich dissipates the shades of Night â—o dangers Death Hell dares not own â—â—â—cely to Apprehension known â—m'd with thy Will despite of Fear â— seek them as if Thou wer 't there IV. 〈◊〉 if thou wilt I dye and that 〈◊〉 worse than thousand deaths thy hate When I am dead if thou but pay My Tomb a Tear and sighing say Thou do'st my timeless fall deplore Wishing th' had'st known my Truth before My Dearest Dear thou mak'st me then Or sleep in peace or live again To my friend Mr. Lely on his Picturâ— of the Excellently Virtuous Lady tâ—â— Lady Isabella Thynn NAture and Art are here at strife This Shadow comes so neer the Life Sit still Dear Lely th' hast done that Thy self must love and wonder at What other Ages â—'er could boast Either remaining yet or lost Are trivial toys and must give place To this that counterfeits her face 〈◊〉 I 'll not say but there have been 〈◊〉 every past Age Paintings seen â—oth Good and Like from every Hand 〈◊〉 once had Maistry and command 〈◊〉 none like her Surely she sate â—â—y Pencil thus to celebrate â—bove all others that could claim 〈◊〉 Eccho from the voice of Fame â—or he that most or with most cause â—eaks or may speak his own applause â—â—n't when he shows his Master-peice 〈◊〉 he e're did a Face like this â—â—his thy chance to be the Man â—one but who shares thy honour can 〈◊〉 such another do arise â—o steal more glory from her Eyes 〈◊〉 't would improvident bounty show â—o hazard such a Beauty so â—â—s strange thy Iudgment did not err 〈◊〉 want a Hand beholding her â—â—ose awing Graces well might make â—â—ssured'st Pencil to mistake To Her and Truth then what a crime To Vs to all the World and Time Who most will want her copy 't were To have it then unlike appear But she 's preserved from that Fate Thou know'st so well to imitate And in that Imitation show What Oyl and Colour mixt can do So well that had this Piece the grace Of motion she and none else has Or if it could the Odour breathe That her departing sighs bequeath And had her warmth it then would be Her glorious Self and none but she So well 't is done But thou canst go No farther than what Art can do And when all 's done this thou hast made Is but a nobler kind of Shade And thou though thou hast play'd thy part A Painter no Creator art To Chloris ODE FArewel My Sweet until I come Improv'd in Merit for thy sake With Characters of Honour home Such as thou canst not then but take To Loyalty my love must bow My Honour too calls to the Field Where for a Ladies busk I now Must keen and sturdy Iron wield Yet when I rush into those Arms Where Death and Danger do combine I shall less subject be to harms Than to those killing Eyes of thine Since I could live in thy Disdain Thou art so far become my Fate That I by nothing can be slain Until thy Sentence speaks my Date But if I seem to fall in War T' excuse the murder you commit Be to my Memory just so far As in thy Heart t' acknowledg it That 's all I ask which thou must give To him that dying takes a pride It is foâ— thee and would not live Sole Prince of all the world beside Taking Leave of Chloris I. SHE sighs as if she would restore The Life shâ— took away before As if she did recant my Doom And sweetly would reprieve me home Such hope to one condemn'd appears From every whisper that he hears But what do such vain hopes avail If those sweet sighs compose a gale To drive me hence and swell my sail II. See see she weeps who would not swear That Love descended in that Tear Boasting him of his wounded prize Thus in the bleeding of her Eyes Or that those Tears with just pretence Would quench the fire that came from thence But oh they are which strikes me dead Christal her frozen Heart has bred Neither in Love nor Pitty shed III. Thus of my merit jealous grown â—â—y happiness I dare not own But wretchedly her favous wear Blind to my self unjust to her Whose sighs and tears at least discover She pitties if not loves her Lover And more betrays the Tyrant's skill Than any blemish in her will That thus laments whom she doth kill IV. Pitty still Sweet my dying state My Flame may sure pretend to that Since it was only unto thee I gave my Life and Liberty Howe're my Life's misfortune 's laid By Love I'm Pitties object made Pitty me then and if thou hear I 'm dead drop such another tear And I am paid my full arrear ODE I. COme let us drink away the time A pox upon this pelting Rhyme When Wine 's run high Wit 's in the prime II. Drink and stout drinkers are true joys Odes Sonnets and such little toys Are exercises fit for Boys III. Then to our Liquor let us sit Wine makes the Soul for Action â—it Who bears most drink has the most wit. IV. The whining Lover that does place His wonder in a painted Face And wasts his substance in the chace V. Could not in Mâ—lancholy pine Had he Affections so divine As once to fall in love with Wine VI. The Gods themselves their revels keep And in pure Nectar tipple deep When slothful Mortals are asleep VII They fudled once for recreation In Water which by all relation Did cause Deucalions Inundation VIII The spangled Globe as it held most Their Bowl was with Salt-water dos't The Sun-burnt Centre was the Toast IX In drink Apollo always chose His darkest Oracles to disclose 'T was Wine gave him his Ruby-Nose X. The Gods then let us imitate Secure of Fortune and of Fate Wine Wit and Courage does create XI Who dares not drink 's a wretched Wight Nor can I think that Man dares fight All day that dares not drink all night XII Fill up the Goblet let it swim In foam that overlooks the brim He that drinks deepest here 's to him XIII Sobriety and Study breeds Suspition of our Thoughts and Deeds The down-right Drunkard no Man heeds XIV Let me have Sack Tobacco store A Drunken Friend a Little Wh re Protector I will ask no more ODE I. THE Day is set did Earth
But with a calm and stealing pace Neither too rude nor yet too cold III. Play in her beams and crisp her Hair With such a gale as wings soft Love And with so sweet so rich an Air As breaths from the Arabian Grove IV. A Breath as hush 't as Lovers sigh Or that unfolds the Morning door Sweet as the Winds that gently fly To sweep the Springs enamell'd Floor V. Murmur soft Musick to her Dreams That pure and unpoluted run Like to the new-born Christal Streams Under the bright enamour'd Sun. VI. But when she waking shall display Her light retire within your bar Her Breath is life her Eyes are day And all Mankind her Creatures are Laura Weeping ODE I. CHast lovely Laura `gan disclose Drooping with sorrow from her Bed As with ungentle Show'rs the Rose O'recharg'd with wet declines her head II. With a dejected look and pace Neglectingly she `gan appear When meeting with her tell-tale Glass She saw the Face of sorrow there III. Sweet sorrow drest in such a look As love would trick to catch desire A shaded Leaf in Beauties Book Charact'red with clandestine Fire IV. Down dropt a Tear to deck her Cheeks With orient Treasure of her own Such as the diving Negro seeks T' adorn the Monarch's mighty Crown V. Then a full showr of pearly Dew Upon her snowy Breast `gan fall As in due Homage to bestrew Or mourn her Beauties Funeral VI. So have I seen the springing Morn In dark and humid Vapours clad Not to eclipse but to adorn Her glories by that conquer'd shade VII Spare Laura spare those Beauties twins Do not our World of Beauty drown Thy Tears are Balm for other Sins Thou know'st not any of thine own VIII Then let them shine forth to declare The sweet Serenity within May each day of thy Life be fair And to eclipse one hour be Sin. SONNET CHloris whil'st thou and I were free Wedded to nought but Liberty How sweetly happy did we live How free to promise free to give Then Monarch's of our selves we might Love here or there to change delight And ty'd to none with all dispence Paying each love its recompence But in that happy freedom we Were so improvidently free To give away our Liberties And now in fruitless Sorrow pine At what we are what might have been Had thou or I or both been wife SONNET WHy dost thou say thou lov'st me now And yet proclam'st it is too late When bound by folly or by fate Thou canst no further grace allow Repeat no more that killing Voice Thou beautious Victrice of my Heart Or find a way to ease my smart Maugre thy now repented choice ` T is not too late to love and do What love and nature prompt thee to Whilst thus thou triumph'st in thy prime Thou may'st discreetly love and use Those plâ—asures thou didst once refuse But to profess it were a Crime SONNET WHy dost thou say thy Heart is gon And no more mine no more thine own But past retrieve for ever wed By sacred Vow t'another's Bed Why dost thou tell me that I lye Bound in the same perplexed tye And that our now divided Souls Are cold and distant as the Poles Dost thou not know when first our Loves â—ere plighted in the secret Groves Our hearts were chang'd with equal flame 〈◊〉 Chloris then how can it be Couldst thou give me or I give thee No no our selves are still the same SONNET HOw should'st thou Love and not offend Why Chloris I will tell thee how 〈◊〉 thou did'st once so Love me now 〈◊〉 lye with me and there 's an end Thou only art enjoyn'd my Sweet To keep thy Reputation high And that indeed is secrecy 〈◊〉 all do err thou all not see 't Then fairest Fearless of all blame That sacred Treasure of thy Name Into my faithful Arms commit Thou once did'st trust me with thy fame I then was just and true to it And Chloris I am still the same To Sir Aston Cockayne on Captain Hanniball EPIG YOur Captain Hanniball does snort and puff Arm'd in his Brazen-face and Greazy Buff ` Mongst Puncks and Panders and can rant and roar With Cacala the Turd and his poor Whore. But I would wish his Valour not mistake us All Captains are not like his Brother Dacus Advise him then be quiet or I shall Bring Captain Hough to bait your Hannibal In imitation of a Song in the Play of Rollo TAke O take my Fears away Which thy cold Disdains have bred And grant me one auspicious Ray From thy Morn of Beauties shed But thy killing Beams restrain Lest I be by Beauty slain II. Spread O spread those orient Twins Which thy snowy Bosom grace Where Love in Milk and Roses swims Blind with Lustre of thy Face But let Love thaw them first left I Do on those frozen Mountains dye To Sir Aston Cockayne on his Tragedy of Ovid. LOng live the Poet and his lovely Muse The Stage with Wit and Learning to infuse Embalm him in immortal Elegy My gentle Naso for if he should dye Who makes thee live thou 'lt be again pursu'd And banisht Heaven for Ingratitude Transform again thy Metamorphosis In one and turn thy various shapes to his A Twin-born Muse in such Embraces curl'd As shall subject the Scriblers of the World And spite of time and Envy henceforth sit The ruling Gemini of Love and Wit. So two pure Streams in one smooth Channel glide In even motion without Ebb or Tide As in your Pens Tybur and Anchor meet And run Meanders with their silver Feet Both soft both gentle both transcending high Both skill'd alike in charming Elegy So equally admir'd the Laurels due Without distinction both to him and you Naso was Rome's fam'd Ovid you alone Must be the Ovid to our Albion In all things equal saving in this case Our Modern Ovid has the better Grace Philodramatos De Die Martis Die Veneris EPIG SAturn and Sol and Lunâ— chast ` Twixt Mars and Venus still are plac't Whilst Mercury and Iove divide The Lovers on the other side What may the hidden Mystery Of this unriddled Order be The Gods themselves do justly fear That should they trust these two too near Mars would be drown'd in Venus and so they Should lose a Planet and the Week a Day ALIVD SHould Mars and Venus have their Will Venus would keep her Friday ill ODE To Love. I. GReat Love I thank thee now thou hast Paid me for all my Suff'rings past And wounded me with Nature's Pride For whom more Glory `t is to dye Scorn'd and neglected than enjoy All Beauty in the World beside II. A Beauty above all pretence Whose very Scorns are recompence The Regent of my Heart is crown'd And now the Sorrows and the Woe My Youth or Folly helpt me to Are buried in this Friendly Wound III. Led by my Folly or my Fate I lov'd before I knew not what And threw my Thoughts I knew not where With Judgment now I
she ickle Be she pious or ungodly Be she chaste or what sounds odly Lastly be she good or evil Be she Saint or be she Devil Yet uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife If fair she 's subject to temptation If foul her self 's solicitation If young and sweet she is too tender If old and cross no man can mend her If too too kind she 's over clinging If a true scold she 's ever ringing If blith find Fiddles or y'undoe her If sad then call a Casuist to her If a Wit she 'll still be jeering If a Fool she 's ever fleering If too wary then she 'll shrue thee If too lavish she 'll undoe thee If staid she 'll mope a year together If gadding then to London with her If true she 'll think you don 't deserve her If false a thousand will not serve her If lustfull send her to a Spittle If cold she is for one too little If she be of th' Reformation Thy House will be a Convocation If a Libertine then watch it At the window thou maist catch it If chaste her pride will still importune If a Whore thou know'st thy Fortune So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife These are all extremes I know But all Womankind is so And the Golden Mean to none Of that cloven Race is known Or to one if known it be Yet that one 's unknown to me Some Vlissean Traveller May perhaps have gone so sar As t' have found in spight of Nature Such an admirable Creature If a Voyager there be Has made that discovery He the fam'd Odcombian gravels And may rest to write his Travels But alas there 's no such woman The Calamity is common The first rib did bring in ruine And the rest have since been doing Some by one way some another Woman still is mischief's mother And yet cannot Man forbear Though it cost him ne'er so dear Yet with me 't is out of season To complain thus without reason Since the best and sweetest fair Is allotted to my share But alas I love her so That my love creates my woe For if she be out of humour Streight displeas'd I do presume her And would give the World to know What it is offends her so Or if she be discontented Lord how am I then tormented And am ready to persuade her That I have unhappy made her But if sick I then am dying Meat and Med'cine both defying So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife What are then the Marr'age Joys That make such a mighty noise All 's enclos'd in one short Sentence Little Pleasure great Repentance Yet it is so sweet a Pleasure To repent we scarce have leisure Till the pleasure wholly fails Save sometimes by Intervals But those intervals again Are so full of deadly pain That the pleasure we have got Is in Conscience too dear bought Pox on 't would Womankind be free What needed this Solemnity This foolish way of coupl'ing so That all the World forsooth must know And yet the naked truth to say They are so perfect grown that way That if 't only be for pleasure You would marry take good leisure Since none can ever want supplies For natural necessities Without exposing of his Life To the great trouble of a Wife Why then all the great pains taking Why the sighing why the waking Why the riding why the running Why the artifice and cunning Why the whining why the crying Why pretending to be dying Why all this clutter to get Wives To make us weary of our Lives If Fruition we profess To be the only happiness How much happier then is he Who with the industrious Bee Preys upon the several Sweets Of the various Flow'rs he meets Than he who with less delight Dulls on one his Appetite Oh 't is pleasant to be free The sweetest Miss is Liberty And though who with one sweet is bless'd May reap the sweets of all the rest In her alone who fair and true As Love is all for which we sue Whose several Graces may supply The place of full variety And whose true kindness or address Summs up the All of happiness Yet 't is better live alone Free to all than ti'd to one Since uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife ODE To Love. I. GReat Love I thank thee now thou hast Paid me for all my suff'rings past And wounded me with Nature's Pride For whom more glory 't is to die Scorn'd and neglected than enjoy All Beauty in the world beside II. A Beauty above all pretence Whose very scorns are recompence The Regent of my heart is crown'd And now the sorrows and the woe My Youth and Folly help'd me to Are buried in this friendly wound III. Led by my Folly or my Fate I lov'd before I knew not what And threw my thoughts I knew not where With judgment now I lvoe and sue And never yet perfection knew Untill I cast mine eyes on her IV. My Soul that was so base before Each little beauty to adore Now rais'd to Glory does despise Those poor and counterfeited rays That caught me in my childish days And knows no power but her eyes V. Rais'd to this height I have no more Almighty Love for to implorâ— Of my auspicious Stars or thee Than that thou bow her noble mind To be as mercifully kind As I shall ever faithfull be Song I. SAd thoughts make hast and kill me out I live too long in pain 'T is dying to be still in doubt And death that ends all miseries The chief and only favour is The wretched can obtain II. I have liv'd long enough to know That life is a Disease At least it does torment me so That Death at whom the happy start I court to come and with his Dart To give me a release III. Come friendly Death then strike me dead For all this while I die And but long dying nothing dread Yet beign with grief the one half slain With all thy power thou wilt gain But half a Victory Elegy AWay to th' other world away In this I can no longer stay I long enough in this have stai'd To see my self poorly betrai'd Forsaken robb'd and left alone And to all purposes undone What then can tempt me to live on My Peace and Honour being gone O yes I still am call'd upon To stay by my affliction Oh fair affliction let me go You best can part with me I know 'T is an ill natur'd pride you take To triumph o'er the fool you make And you loose time in trampling o'er One whilst you might make twenty more Your eyes have still the conqu'ring pow'r They had in that same dang'rous hour They laid me at your beauties feet Your Roses still as fair and sweet And there more hearts are to subdue But oh not one that 's half so true Dismiss me then t'eternal rest I cannot live but in your Breast Where banish'd by Inconstancy The world has
that I swimming was in Neptune's spight To my long long'd-for Harbour of delight And now I 'm here set down again in peace After my troubles business Voyages The same dull Northern clod I was before Gravely enquiring how Ewes are a Score How the Hay-Harvest and the Corn was got And 〈◊〉 or no there 's like to be a Rot Just the same Sot I was e'er I remov'd Nor by my travel nor the Court improv'd The same old fashion'd Squire no whit refin'd And shall be wiser when the Devil 's blind But find all here too in the self-same state And now begin to live at the old rate To bub old Ale which nonsense does create Write leud Epistles and sometimes translate Old Tales of Tubs of Guyenne and Provence And keep a clutter with th' old Blades of France As D' Avenant did with those of Lombardy Which any will receive but none will buy And that has set H. B. and me awry My River still through the same Chanel glides Clear from the Tumult Salt and dirt of Tides And my poor Fishing-house my Seat's best grace Stands firm and faithfull in the self-same place I left it four months since and ten to one I go a Fishing e'er two days are gone So that my Friend I nothing want but thee To make me happy as I 'd wish to be And sure a day will come I shall be bless'd In his enjoyment whom my heart loves best Which when it comes will raise me above men Greater than crowned Monarchs are and then I 'll not exchange my Cottage for White-hall Windsor the Lauvre or th' Escurial Anacreontick FILL a Boul of lusty Wine Briskest Daughter of the Vine Fill't untill it Sea-like flow That my cheek may once more glow I am fifty Winters old Bloud then stagnates and grows cold And when Youthfull heat decays We must help it by these ways Wine breeds Mirth and Mirth imparts Heat and Courage to our hearts Which in old men else are lead And not warm'd would soon be dead Now I 'm sprightly fill agen Stop not though they mount to ten Though I stagger do not spare 'T is to rock and still my Ear Though I stammer 't is no matter I should doe the same with water When I belch I am but trying How much better 't is than sighing If a tear spring in mine eye 'T is for joy not grief I cry This is living without thinking These are the effects of drinking Fill a main Boy fill a main Whilst I drink I feel no pain Gout or Palsie I have none Hang the Chollick and the Stone I methinks grow young again New bloud springs in ev'ry vein And supply it Sirrah still Whilst I drink you sure may fill If I nod Boy rouse me up With a bigger fuller Cup But when that Boy will not doe Faith e'en let me then goe to For 't is better far too lie Down to sleep than down to dye Burlesque Vpon the Great Frost To Iohn Bradshaw Esq YOU now Sir may and justly wonder That I who did of late so thunder Your frontier Garrison by th'Ferry Should on a sudden grow so weary And thence may raise a wrong conclusion That you have bob'd my Resolution Or else that my Poetick Battery With which so smartly I did patter ye Though I am not in that condition Has shot away her Ammunition Or if in kindness peradventure You are more gentle in your censure That I my writing left pursuing 'Cause I was weary of ill doing Now of these three surmizes any Except the last might pass with many But such as know me of the Nation Know I so hate all Reformation Since so much harm to doe I 've seen it That in my self I 'll ne'er begin it And should you under your hand give it Not one of twenty would believe it But I must tell you in brief Clauses If you to any of these Causes Impute the six weeks Truce I 've given That you are wide Sir the whole Heaven For know though I appear less eager I never mean to raise my Leaguer Till or by storm or else by Famine I force you to the place I am in Your self sans Article to tender Unto Discretion to surrender Where see what comes of your vain glory To make me lie so long before ye To shew you next I want no pouder I thus begin to batter louder And for the last vain Hope that fed ye I think I 've answer'd it already Now to be plain although your Spirit Will ill I know endure to hear it You must of force at least miscarry For reasons supernumerary And though I know you will be striving To doe what lies in mortal living And may it may be a month double To lie before you give me trouble Though with the stronger men but vapour ill And hold out stiff till th' end of April Or possibly a few days longer Yet then you needs must yield for hunger When having eaten all Provisions Y' are like to make most brave Conditions Now having friendship been so just to To tell you what y' are like to trust to I 'll next acquaint you with one reason I've let you rest so long a season And that my Muse has been so idle Know Pegasus has got a Bridle A Bit and Curb of crusted water Or if I call 't plain Ice no matter With which he now is so commanded His days of galloping are ended Unless I with the spur do prick him Nay rather though I whip and kick him He who unbidden us'd to gambol Can now nor prance nor trot nor amble Nor stir a foot to take his airing But stands stiff froze like that at Charing With two feet up two down 't is pitty He 's not erected in the City But to leave fooling I assure ye There never was so cold a Fury Of nipping Frost and pinching weather Since Eve and Adam met together Our Peak that always has been famous For cold wherewith to cramp and lame us Worse than it self did now resemble a Certain damn'd place call'd Nova Zembla And we who boast us humane Creatures Had happy been had we chang'd features Garments at least though theirs be shabbed With those who that cold place inhabit The Bears and Foxes who sans question Than we by odds have warmer Vests on How cold that Country is he knows most Has there his Fingers and his Toes lost But here I know that every Member Alike was handled by December Who blew his nose had clout or fist all Instead of snivel fill'd with Crystal Who drew for Urinal ejection Was b'witch'd into an odd erection And these Priapus like stood strutting Fitter for Pedestal than rutting As men were fierce or gentle handed Their Fists were clutch'd or Palms expanded Limbs were extended or contracted As use or humour most affected For as men did to th' air expose 'em It catch'd and in that figure froze 'em Of which think me not over ample If I produce
his Care And honest Labour makes his Bed. XXV Who free from Debt and clear from Crimes Honours those Laws that others fear Who ill of Princes in worst Times Will neither speak himself nor hear XXVI Who from the busie World retires To be more useful to it still And to no greater good aspires But only the eschewing ill XXVII Who with his Angle and his Books Can think the longest day well spent And praises God when back he looks And finds that all was innocent XXVIII This man is happier far than he Whom publick Business oft betrays Through Labyrinths of policy To crooked and forbidden ways XXIX The World is full of beaten Roads But yet so slippery withall That where one walks secure `t is odds A hundred and a hundred fall XXX Untrodden Paths are then the best Where the frequented are unsure And he comes soonest to his rest Whose Journey has been most secure XXXI It is Content alone that makes Our Pilgrimage a Pleasure here And who buyes Sorrow cheapest takes An ill Commodity too dear XXXII But he has Fortunes worst withstood And Happiness can never miss Can covet nought but where he stood And thinks him happy where he is Stances de Monsieur de Scudery FAIR Nymph by whose Perfections mov'd My wounded heart is turn'd to flame By all admir'd by all approv'd Endure at least to be belov'd Although you will not love again Aminta as unkind as fair What is there that you ought to fear For cruel if I you declare And that indeed you cruel are Why the Reproach may you not hear Even Reproaches should delight If Friendship for me you have none And if no Anger I have yet Enough perhaps that may invite Your hatred or Compassion When your Disdain is most severe When you most rigorous do prove When frowns of Anger most you wear You still more charming do appear And I am more and more in Love. Ah let me Sweet your sight enjoy Though with the forfeit of my Life For fall what will I 'de rather dye Beholding you of present Joy Than absent of a lingring grief Let your Eyes lighten till expiring In flame my Heart a Cinder lye Falling is nobler than retiring And in the glory of aspiring ` T is brave to tumble from the Sky Yet I would any thing embrace Might serve your Anger to appease And if I may obtain my grace Your steps shall leave no print nor trace I will not with Devotion kiss If Tyrant you will have it so No word my Passion shall betray My wounded Heart shall hide its woe But if it sigh those Sighs will show And tell you what my Tongue would say Should yet your Rigour higher rise Even those offending Sighs shall cease I will my Pain and grief disguise But Sweet if you consult mine Eyes Those Eyes will tell you my Disease If th' utmost my Respect can do Still will your Cruelty displease Consult your Face and that will shew What Love is to such Beauty due And to the state of my Disease Melancholy Pindarick Ode I. WHat in the name of wonder 's this Which lyes so heavy at my heart That I ev'n Death it self could kiss And think it were the greatest Bliss Even at this moment to depart Life even to the wretched dear To me 's so nauseous grown There is no ill I 'de not commit But proud of what would forâ—eit it Would act the mischeif without fear And wade through thousand lives to lose my own II. Yea Nature never taught me bloody Rules Nor was I yet with vicious precept bred And now my Virtue paints my cheeks in Gules To check mee for the wicked thing I said ` T is not then I but something in my Breast With which unwittingly I am possest Which breaths forth Horror to proclaim That I am now no more the same One that some seeds of Vertue had But one run resolutely mad A Fiend a Fury and a Beast Or a Demoniack at least Who without sence of Sin or shame At nothing but dire mischiefs aim Egg'd by the Prince of Fiends and Legion is his Name III. Alas my Reason's overcast That Sovereign Guide is quite displac't Clearly dismounted from his Throne Banish'd his Empire fled and gone And in his room An infamous Usurper's come Whose Name is sounding in mine Ear Like that methinks of Oliver Nay I remember in his Life Such a Disease as mine was mighty rise And yet methinks it cannot be That he Should be crept into me My skin could ne're contain sure so much Evil Nor any place but Hell can hold so great a Devil IV. But by its symtomes now I know What is that does torment me so ` T is a disease As great a Fiend almost as these That drinks up all my better blood And leaves the rest a standing Pool And though I ever little understood Makes me a thousand times more Fool. Fumes up dark vapours to my Brain Creates burnt Choler in my breast And of these nobler parts possest Tyrannically there does reign Oh when kind Heaven shall I be well again V. Accursed Melancholy it was Sin First brought thee in Sin lodg'd the first in our first Father's Breast By Sin thou' rt nourish't and by Sin increast Thou' rt man's own Creature he has giv'n thee pow'r The sweets of Life thus to devour To make us shun the cheerful Light And creep into the shades of Night Where the sly Tempter ambush't lies To make the discontented Soul his prize There the Progenitor of guile Accosts us in th' old Serpent's style Rails at the World as well as we Nay Providence i 's sel 's 's not free Proceeding then to Arts of Flattery He there extolls our Valour and our Parts Spreads all his Nets to catch our Hearts Concluding thus what generous mind Would longer here draw breath That might so sure a Refuge find In the repose of Death Which having said he to our choice presents All his destroying Instruments Swords and Steeletto's Halters Pistols Knives Poysons both quick and slow to end our Lives Or if we like none of those fine Devices He then presents us Pools and Precipices Or to let out or suffocate our breath And by once dying to obtain an everlasting Death VI. Avaunt thou Devil Melancholy Thou grave and sober Folly Night of the Mind wherein our Reasons grope For future Joys but never can find hope Parent of Murthers Treasons and Despair Thou pleasing and eternal care Go sow thy rank and poys'nous seeds In such a soyl of mind as breeds With little help black and nefarious deeds And let my whiter Soul alone For why should I thy sable weed put on Who never meditated ill nor ill have never done VII Ah `t is ill done to me that makes me sad And thus to pass away With sighs the tedious Nights and does Like one that either is or will be mad Repentance can our own fowl soules make pure And expiate the foulest Deed Whereas the
perswade It is no less than shillings ten Gods will be brib'd as well as men Imagine then your High-lander Over a Cann of muddy Beer Playing at Passage with a pair Of drunken Fumblers for his Fare And see I 've won oh lucky chance Hoist Sail amain my Mates for France Forâ—une was civil in this throw And having rob'd me le ts me go I 've won and yet how could I choose He needs must win that cannot lose Fate send me then a happy wind And better luck to those behind But what advantage will it be That Winds and Tides are kind to me When still the wretched have their woes Wherever they their Feet dispose What satisfaction or delight Are ragousts to an appetite What ease can France or Flanders give To him that is a Fugitive Some two years hence when you come o're In all your State Ambassadour If my ill Nature be so strong T' out-live my Infamy so long You 'l find your little Officer Ragged as his old Colours are And naked as he 's discontent Standing at some poor Sutlers Tent With his Pike cheek't to guard the Tun He must not tast when he has done Hump says my Lord I 'me half afraid My Captain 's turn'd a Reformade That scurvy Face I sure should know Yes faith my Lord 't is even so I am that individual he I told your Lordship how 't would be Thou did'st so Charles it is confest Yet still I thought thou wer 't in jest But comfort Poverty 's no Crime I 'll take thy word another time This matters now are coming to And I 'm resolv'd upon 't whilst you Sleeping in Fortune's Arms near dream Who feels the contrary Extream Faith write to me that I may know Whether you love me still or no Or if you do not by what ways I 've pull'd upon me my disgrace For whilst I still stand fair with you I dare the worst my Fate can do But your opinion long I find I 'm sunk for ever to mankind Beauty PINDARICK ODE In Answer to an Ode of Mr. Abraham Cowley's upon the same Subject I. BEauty thou Master-piece of Heav'ns best skill Who in all shapes and lights art Beauty still And whether black or brown tawny or white Still strik'st with wonder every judging sight Thou tryumph which dost entertain the Eye With Admirations full variety Who though thou variest here and there And trick'st thy self in various colour'd hair And though with several washes Nature has Thought fit thy several Lineaments to grace Yet Beauty still we must acknowledge thee Whatever thy Complexion be II. Beauty Love's Friend who help'st him to a Throne By Wisdom Deify'd to whom alone Thy Excellence is known And ne're neglected but by those have none Thou noble Coyn by no false sleight allay'd By whom we Lovers Militant are paid True to the Touch and ever best When thou art brought unto the Test And who do'st still of higher value prove As deeper thou art search'd by Love. He who allows thee only in the Light Is there mistaken quite For there we only see the outer skin When the Perfection lies within Beauty more revishes the Touch than Sight And seen by Day is still enjoy'd by Night For Beauty's chiefest Parts are never seen III. Beauty thou Active Passive good Who both enflam'st and cool'st our Blood Thou glorious Flow'r whose sov'reign juyce Does wonderful Effects produce Who Scorpion-like do'st with thee bring The Balm that cures thy deadly sting What pity 't is the fairest Plant That ever Heaven made Should ever ever fade Yet Beauty we shall never want For she has off-sets of her own Which e're she dyes will be as fairly blown And though they blossom in variety Yet still new Beauties will descry And here the Fancy's govern'd by the Eye IV. Beauty thy Conquests still are made Over the Vigorous more than the Decay'd And chiefly o're those of the Martial Trade And whom thou conquer'st still thou keep'st in thrall Untill you both together fall Whereas of all the Conquerours how few Know how to keep what they subdue Nay even froward Age subdues thee too Thy Power Beauty has not bounds All sorts of men it equally confounds The young and old does both enslave The proud meek humble and the brave And if it wounds it only is to save V. Beauty thou Sister to Heav'ns glorious Lamp Of â—iner Clay thou finer stamp Thou second Light by which we better live Thou better Sexe's vast prerogative Thou greatest gift that Heaven can give He who against thee does inveigh Never yet knew where Beauty lay And does betray A deplorable want of Sense Blindness or Age or Impotence For Wit was given to no other end But Beauty to admire or to commend And for our Sufferings here below Beauty is all the recompence we know 'T is then for such as cannot see Nor yet have other sence to friend Adored Beauty thus to slander thee And he who calls thee madness let him be By his own doom from Beauty doom'd for me Rondeau FOrbear fair Phillis Oh forbear Those deadly killing frowns and spare A heart so loving and so true By none to be subdu'd but you Who my poor life's sole Princess are You only can create my care But offend you I all things dare Then lest your cruelty you rue Forbear And lest you kill that heart beware To which there is some pitty due If but because I humbly sue Your anger therefore sweetest fair Though mercy in your Sex is rare Forbear Woman Pindarick Ode I. WHat a bold Theam have I in hand What Fury has possest my Muse That could no other subject choose But that which none can understand Woman what Tongue or Pen is able To determine what thou art A thing so moving and unstable So Seaâ—like so investigable That no Land Map nor Sea-man's Chart Though they shew us snowy Mountains Chalky Cliffs and Christal Fountains Sable Thickets golden Groves All that man admires and loves Can direct us to thy heart Which though we seek it night and day Through vast Regions Ages stray And over Seas with Canvas wings make way That Heart the whiles Like to the floating Isles Our Compass evermore beguiles And still still still remains Terra Incognita II. Woman the fairest sweetest Flow'r That in happy Eden grew Whose sweets and graces had the pow'r The World 's sole Monarch to subdue What pity 't is thou wer 't not true But there even there thy frailty brought in sin Sin that has cost so many Sighs and tears Enough to ruin all succeeding Heirs To Beauties Temple let the Devil in And though because there was no more It in one single story did begin Yet from the Seeds shed from that fruitful Core Have sprung up Volumes infinite and great With which th'ore charged world doth sweat Of women false proud cruel insolent And what could else befall Since she her self was President Who was the Mother of them all And who altho' Mankind
Whilst his own Vertues swell the cheeks of Fame And from his consecrated Urn doth Flame A Glorious Pyramid to Botelâ—â—s Name Ode Bachique De Monsieur Racan NOW that the Day 's short and forlorn Dull Melancholy Capricorn To Chimney-corners Men translate Drown we our Sorrows in the glass And let the thoughts of Warfare pass The Clergy and the third Estate II. Menard I know what thou hast writ That spritely issue of thy Wit Will live whilst there are men to read But what if they recorded be In Memory's Temple boots it thee When thou art gnawn by Worms and dead III. Henceforth those fruitless studies spare Let 's rather drink until we stare Of this immortal juyce of ours Which does in excellence precede The Beverage which Gannimede Into th' Immortals Goblet pours IV. The Juyce that sparkles in this glass Makes tedious Years like Days to pass Yet makes us younger still become By this from lab'ring thoughts are chac't The sorrow of those Ills are past And terrour of the Ills to come V. Let us drink brimmers then Time's fleet And steals away with winged feet Haling us with him to our Urn In vain we sue to it to stay For Years like Rivers pass away And never never do return VI. When the Spring comes attir'd in Green The Winter flies and is not seen New Tydes do still supply the Main But when our frolick Youth 's once gone And Age has ta'ne possession Time nere restores us that again VII Deaths Laws are Universal and In Princes Palaces command As well as in the poorest Hutt We 're to the Parcae subject all The threds of Clown's and Monarchs shall Be both by the same Cizors cut VIII Their rigours which all this deface Will ravish in a little space What ever we most lasting make And soon will lead us out to drink Beyond the pitchy Rivers Brink The waters of Oblivion's Lake Epistle to Sir Clifford Clifton then sitting in Parliament WHEN from thy kind hand my dearest dear brother Whom I love as th'adst been the Son of my Mother Nay better to tell you the truth of the story Had you into the World but two minutes before me I receiv'd thy kind Letter good Lord how it eas'd me Of the villanous Spleen that for six days had seiz'd me I start from my Couch where I lay dull and muddy Of my Servants inquiring the way to my Study For in truth of late days I so little do mind it Should one turn me twice about I never should find it But by help of direction I soon did arrive at The place where I us'd to sit fooling in private So soon as got thither I straight fell to calling Some call it invoking but mine was plain bawling I call'd for my Muse but no answer she made me Nor could I conceive why the Slut should evade me I knew I there left her and lock't her so safe in There could be no likelihood of her escaping Besides had she scap't I was sure to retrieve her She being so ugly that none would receive her â— then fell to searching since I could not hear her â—â—ought all the shelves but never the nearer â— tumbled my Papers and rifled each Packet Threw my Books all on heaps and kept such a racket Disordering all things which before had their places Distinct by themselves in several Classes That who 'd seen the confusion and look't on the ware Would have thought he had been at Babylon Fair At last when for lost I had wholly resign'd her Where canst thou imagine dear Knt I should find her Faith in an old Drawer I late had not been in Twixt a course pair of sheets of the Houswifes own spinning â— Sonnet instead of a coif her head wrapping happily took her small Ladiship napping Why how now Minx quoth I what 's the matter â— pray That you are so hard to be spoke with to day Fy fy on this Idleness get up and rowze you For I have a present occasion to use you Our Noble Mecoenas Sir Clifford of Cud-con Has sent here a Letter a kind and a good one Which must be suddenly answer'd and finely Or the Knight will take it exceeding unkindly To which having some time sat musing and mute She answer'd sh 'ad broke all the strings of her Lute And had got such a Rheum with lying alone That her Voice was utterly broken and gone Besides this she had heard that of late I had made A Friendship with one that had since bin her Maid One Prose a slatternly ill-favour'd toad As common as Hackney and beaten as Road With whom I sat up somtimes whole Nights together Whil'st she was exposed to the Wind and weather Wherefore since that I did so slight and abuse her She likewise now hop'd I would please to excuse her At this sudden reply I was basely confounded I star'd like a Quaker and groan'd like a Round-head And in such a case what the Fiend could one do My conscience convinc'd her Reproaches were true To swagger I durst not I else could have beat her But what if I had I 'd been never the better To quarrel her then had been quite out of season And ranting would ne'r have reduc'd her to reason I therefore was fain to dissemble Repentance I disclaim'd and forswore my late new Acquaintance I kist her and hugg'd her I clapt her and chuck't her I push't her down backward and offer'd to have But the Jade would not buckle she pish't she pouted And wrigling away fairly left me without it I caught her and offered her Mony a little At which she cry'd that were to plunder the Spittle I then to allure her propos'd to her Fame Which she so much despised she pish't at the name And told me in answer that she could not glory at The Sail-bearing Title of Muse to a Laureat Much less to a Rhymer did nought but disgust one And pretended to nothing but pittiful Fustion But oh at that word how I rated and call'd her And had my Fist up with intent to have maul'd her At which the poor Slut half afraid of the matter Changing her note 'gan to wheedle and flatter Protesting she honour'd me Iove knew her heart Above all the Peers o' th' Poetical Art But that of late time and without provocation I had been extremely unjust to her Passion Me thought this sounded I then laid before her How long I had serv'd her how much did adore her How much she her self stood oblig'd to the Knight For his kindness and favour to whom we should write And thereupon called to make her amends For a Pipe and a Bottle and so we were Friends Being thus made Friends we fell to debating What kind of Verse we should congratulate in I said 't must be Doggrâ—l which when I had said Maliciously smiling she nodded her head Saying Doggrel might pass to a friend would not show it And do well enough for a Derbyshire Poet. Yet mere simple
said Canst thou Ungratefull thus renounce thy Rhime Tell me how would'st thou spend thy Vacant time To Tragick buskins would'st thy Sock transfer And in Heroick Verse sing bloudy War That tyrannous Pedants with awfull voice May terrify Old Men Virgins and Boys Let rigid Antiquaries such things write Who by a blinking Lamp consume the Night With Roman air touch up thy Poems Dress That th' Age may read its manners and confess Tâ—ou'lt find thou may'st with trifling Subjects play â—â—til their Trumpets to thy Reed give way Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 19. De Cinna CInna would fain be thought to need And so he does he 's poor indeed Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 23. Ad Rusticum TO thee I gluttonous and cruel seem About my Cook because I basted him For supper Rusticus the cause was great What should a Cook be beaten for but 's meat Id. Lib. Ep. 47. In variâ— se tondentem PArt of thy Beard is clipt part shav'd anothâ—â— place Is pull'd who 'd think this could be all one Face Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 21. Ad Luciferum â—Hospher appear why dost our joys delay When Caesar's coming only waits for Day 〈◊〉 begs thy haste on slow Boots's Carr 〈◊〉 thou not ride thou mov'st so slowly Star â—â—ift-footed Cyllarus thou might'st have took 〈◊〉 his saddle now would have forsook â—hy do'st thou longer stop the longing Sun â—â—â—thus and Aethon beat and snort to run 〈◊〉 Memnon's Mother watches till you come â—or will the Stars give place to greater Light 〈◊〉 stay with th' Moon expecting Caesars sight â—ow Caesar come by Night we shall have Ray 〈◊〉 People cannot where thou art want Day Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 35. In pessimos Conjuges SInce y' are a-like in Manners and in Life A wicked Husband and a wicked Wife I wonder much you are so full of strife Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 53. In Catullam THE Fair'st of Women that have been or arâ— Thou art yet Cheaper than them all by far To me Catulla what a triumph 't were That thou wer 't or more Honest or less Fair. Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 59. In Vacerram BUT Antick Poets thou admirest none And only prayest them are dead and gone I beg your pardon good Vacerra I Can't on such terms find in my Heart to die Id. Lib. 7. Ep. 100. De Vetula THou' rt soft to touch charming to hear unseen Thou' rt both but neither take away the Screen Id. Lib. 8. Ep. 41. Ad Faustinum SAd Athenagoras nought presents me now As in December he was wont to do If Athenagoras be sad or no I 'll see I 'me sure that he has made me so Id. Lib. 11. Ep. 103. In Lydiam HE did not lye that said thy Skin was fair But not thy Face so one and th' other are Thy Face if thou sit'st mute and hold'st thy peace Even as in one â—mbost or Painted is But as thou talk'st thou loosest off thy Skin And no ones Tongue more hurts themselves than thine Take heed the Aedile thee nor hear nor see As oft as Statues speak 't is a Prodigie Id. Lib. 12. Ep. 7. De Ligia IF by her Hairs Ligia's Age be told 'T is soon cast up than she is three years old Id. Lib. 12. Ep. 20. Ad Fabullam THat Themison has no Wife how 't comes to pass â—hou ask'st why Themison a Sister has Horat. Lib 1. Carmin Ode 8 Ad Lydia TEll me for God's sake Lydia why Thy Saâ—aris thou do'st with love destroy The Glorious Field why should he shun Grown now impatient of the Dust and Sun Why not in War-like bravery ride Curbing with bits the Gallick Horses pride Why fears he Tybers yellow Floud And flies the Olive more than Vipers Bloud Why not still crusht with Arms whose art Was fam'd for clean delivery of his Dart Why does he Lydia now lye hid As once they say the Son of Thetiâ— did Before Troy's wept for Funerall Lest in his own Apparel he might fall Subject to Slaughter and the Harms Of bloudy Lycians unrelenting Arms De Fortuna an sit caeca Epig. ex Johann Secundo WHY do they speak the Goodess Fortune blind Because She 's only to th' unjust inclin'd This Reason nought Her blindness does declare They only Fortune need who Wicked are Tria Mala ex eodem THE three great Evils of Mans life Are Fire Water and a Wife Id. Lib. Ep. 15. In Neaeram 'T Was Night and Phaebe in a Heaven bright Shone 'mongst the lesser sparks of Light When thou to wound the Gods vowd'st to fulfill The strictest tenures of my will With straighter Arms than ever th' Ivy tall Embrac'd the aged Oak withall Whilst Wolves devour and whilst Orion stirs The Winter Main to Mariners And that this â— ove should mutual last whilst air Wanton'd with Phaebus's uncut Hair. Neaera false on my good Nature wan Too much were Flaccus ought of Man He 'd not t' another yield thee Night by Night But seek another Love in spight Nor would his Anger so provok'd give place To th' Charms of thy offensive Face But Thou who ere more happy and now grown Proud usher'st my Affliction Thou mayst be rich in Cattle and in Land Pactolus may flow to thy Hand Thou mayst be too a Pythagorean O'recome with Beauty Nerean Yet thou alas wilt mourn her change to see When I by turn shall laugh at thee ODE De Theophile Par. I. THy Beauties Dearest Isis have Disturbed Nature at their sight Thine Eyes to Love his blindness gave Such is the vigour of their light The Gods too only minding thee Let the World err at liberty II. And having in the Suns bright Eye Thy glances counterfeited seen Even their Hearts my Sweet thereby So sensibly have wounded been That but they 're fixt they 'd come to see And gaze upon their Creature thee III. Beleive me in this humor They Of things below have little Care Of good or ill we do or say Then since Heaven lets thee love me Dear Without revenging on thine Eye Or striking me in Iealousy IV. â—hou mayst securely in mine Arms And warm Womb of my wanton bed â—each me t' unravel all thy Charms Thou nothing Isis needest dread Since Gods themselves had happy been Could all their power have made thee Sin. Elegy de Theophile SInce that sad Day a sadder Farewell did My Eyes the object of my â—lame forbid My Soul and Sense so disunited are That being thus deprived of thee My Fair I find me so distractedly alone That from my self methinks my self am gone To me invisible's the Sun 's fair Light Nor do I feel the soâ—t repose of Night I Poyson tast in my repast most sweet And sink where-ever I dispose my feet My Life all company but Death has lost Chloris so dear the love I bear thee cost Oh Gods who all the joys we have bestow Do you with them always give torments too Can that we call Good Fortune never hit Humane designs but ill must follow it If equally you interweave the Fate With
good and ill of those you love and hate In vain I sue to her I so adore In vain her help that has no Power implore For as black Night pursues the glorious Sun The greatest Good does but some Ill fore-run When handsome Paris liv'd with Helen fair He saw his Fortune rais'd above his Care But Fate severely did revenge that bliss For as with time his Fortune changed is From his Delights sprang a debate that Fire Brought to old Troy and massacred his Sire And though in that subversion there appearâ— Such sad mishaps of Bloud of Fire and Tears Yet by that Heavenly Face I so adore I swear for love of thee I suffer more For so long absent from thy gracious Eyes Methinks I banisht am the Deities And that from Heaven with Thunder wrapt in Flame To th' Centre I precipitated am Since I left thee my Pleasures in their Tomb â—ye dead and I their Mourner am become With all Delights my Thoughts distasted are And only to dislike the World take care Which as complying with my peevish Will Does nothing I protest but vex me still In Paris like an Hermit I retire And in one Object limit my Desire Where e'er my Eyes seek to divert my Mind I bear the Prison where I am confin'd My Blood is sir'd and my Soul wounded lies By th' golden Shaft shot from thy killing Eyes All the Temptations that I daily see Serve only to confirm my Faith to thee The usual helps that humane Reâ—son bless To render a Man's Passion someâ—hing less Stir mine up more to suffer chearfully Th' obliging Torments that do make me dye My Prudence by my Courage is withstood As by a rock the fury of the Floud I love my Frenzy and I could not love Him of my Friends that should it disapprove Nor do I think my reasonable part Will e'er approach me whilst thou absent art I find my Thoughts uncessantly approve The torturing effects of faithful Love. I find that Day it self shares in my pain The Air 's o'respread with Clouds the Earth with Rain That horrid Visions in my starting Sleep My Souls in their illusions tangled keep That all the apprehensions in my Head Are Madness by my feverish Passion bred That at husht midnight I imagine Storms And see a Ship-wrack in its dreadfull'st Forms Fall from the top of an high precipice Into the Jaws of an obscure Abyss And there a thousand ugly Serpents see Hissing t' advance their scaly Crests at me I cannot once dream of a false Delight But cruel Death straight seizes me in spite But when Heaven weary to have gone thus far Gives that I live under a better Star And when th' unconstant Stars by their chang'd power Present me for my Pains one happy hour My Soul will find it self chang'd at thy sight And of all past mishaps revenged quite Though in Nights Sleep my Spirits buried lay Thy sight my Dear would lend them beams of Day Thy Voice has over me the self same power With Zephyr's Breath over th' Earth's wither'd Flower The vigorous Springs makes all things fresh and new The blowing Rose puts on her blushing hue The Heavens more gay the Days more fair appear Aurora dressing to the Birds gives ear The wild Beasts of the Forrest free from Care Do feel their Bloud and Youth renewed are And naturally obedient to their Sense Without remorse their Pleasures recommence I only in the season all are blest With cruel and continual Griefs opprest Alone in Winter sad and comfortless See not the glorious Spring that we should blâ—ss I only see the Forrest fair forsook ' Th' Earths surface Desart and the frozen Brook And as if charm'd cannot once tast the Fruit That in this season to all Palats suit But when those Suns my adoration claim Shall with their Rays once reinforce my Flame My Spring will then return more sweet and fair By thousand times than those ' Heavens Lamp gives are If ever Fate allow mine Eyes that grace My Joys will transcend those of humane Race Nothing but that Oh Gods nothing but that Do I desire to baâ—â—le Death and Fate Out of Astrea MADRIGALL I Think I could my Passions sway Though great as Beauties power can move To such obedience as to say I cannot or I do not love But to pretend another Flame Since I adore thy conqu'ring Eye To thee and Truth were such a shame I cannot do it though I dye If I must one or th' other do Then let me die I beg of you Stanzes upon the Death of Cleon. Out of Astrea I. THE Beauty which so soon to Cinders turn'd By Death of her Humanity depriv'd Like Light'ning vanisht like the Bolt it burn'd So great this Beauty was and so short liv'd II. Those Eyes so practis'd once in all the Arts That loyal Love attempted or e'er knew Those fair Eyes now are shut that once the hearts Of all that saw their lustre did subdue III. If this be true Beauty is ravisht hence Love vanquisht droops that ever conquered And she who gave Life by her influence Is if she live not in my Bosom dead IV. Henceforth what happiness can Fortune send Since Death this abstract of all Joy has won Since Shadows do the Substance still attend And that our good does but our ill fore-run V. It seems my Cleon in thy rising morn That Destiny thy whole Days course had bound And that thy Beauty dead as soon as born It s fatal Hearâ—e has in its Cradle â—ound VI. No no thou shalt not die I Death will prove Who Life by thy sweet Inspiration drew If Lovers live in that which doth them love Thou liv'st in me who ever lov'd most true VII If I do live Love then will have it known That even Death it self he can controul Or as a God to have his Power shown Will that I live without of Heart or Soul. VIII But Cleon if Heav'ns unresisâ—ed will 'Point thee of Death th' inhumane Fate to try Love to that Fate equals my Fortune still Thou by my mourning by the Death I dye IX Thus did I my immortal Sorrows Breath Mine Eyes to Fountains turn'd of springing Woe But could not stay the wounding Hand of Death Lament but not lessen misfortune so X. When Love with me having bewail'd the loss Of this sweet Beauty thus much did express Cease cease to weep this mourning is too gross Our Tears are still than our misfortune less Song of the inconstant Hylas Out of Astrea I. IF one disdain me then I fly Her Cruelty and her Disdain And e'er the Morning guild the Sky Another Mistriss do obtain They err who hope by force to move A Womans Heart to like or love II. Iâ— oft falls out that they who in Discretion seem us to despise Nourish a greater Fire within Although perhaps conceal'd it lies Which we when once we quit our rooms Do kindle for the next that comes III. The faithful Fool that obstinatâ— Pursues a
Thus did I fare and acceptable pass To all and thus a lusty Suiter was And only so For Nature my strong Brest In Modesty and Chastity had drest For whilst I strove the choices Fair to wed I wore out Cold ev'n to a Widdow'd Bed. They all to me ill bred or ugly seem'd And I none worthy my Embraces deem'd I hated lean ones fat were a Disease Neither the low nor yet the tall would please With middle Forms I ever lov'd to play And in the midst most Graces ever lay Here of our softest parts lies all the bliss And in this part Loves Mother seated is A slender Lass not lean I lov'd to chuse For Flesh is fittest for a â—leshy use One whose most strait Embraces would delight Not one whose Bones should goar my Ribs in Fight I lov'd no Fair unless her Cheeks were spread With native Roses of the purest red This Tincture Venus owns above the rest And loves the Beauty in her Flower drest A long white Neck and golden flowing Hair Have long been known to make a Woman fair But black Brows and black Eyes catch my Desire And still when seen have set my Heart of fire I ever lov'd a red and swelling Lip Where a full Bowl of Kisses I might sip A long round Neck than Gold appear'd more rare And the most wealthy Gem outshone by far Ill fits it Age to speak his wanton prime And what was decent then is now a Crime For various things do diff'rent Men delight Nor yet are all things for all Ages right Things apt for one Age at the last may grow Uncomely for the self-same Man to do The Child by play th' old Man 's by stead'ness seen But the young Man's Behaviour lies between This silent sadness best becomes and that Is better lik'd of for his Mirth and Chat For rolling times does all things turn and sway And suffers none to run one certain way Now that a long unprofitable Age Lies heavy on me I would quit the Stage Life's hard Condition gripes the Wretched still Nor is Death sway'd by any humane Will. The Wretch wishes to die but Death retires Yet when Men dread him then the Slave aspires But I alass that maâ—gre all my Arts Have been so long dead in so many parts On Earth I think shall never end my Days But enter quick the dark Tartarean ways My Tast and Hearing 's ill mine Eyes are such Nay I can scarce distinguish by my Touch No Smell is sweet nor Pleasure who 'd believe A Man could sensibly his Sense out live Lethe's Oblivion does my Mind embrace And yet I can remember what I was The Limbs diseas'd the Mind no Work contrives The thought of ills all other aim deprives I sing no Lyricks now that dear Delight With all my Voices Grace is perish'd quite Frequent no Exercise no Odes rehearse And only with my Pains and Griefs converse The Beauty of my Shape and Face are fled And my revolted Form ' fore-speaks me dead For fair and shining Age has now put on A bloodless Funeral Complexion My Skin 's dry'd up my Nerves unpliant are And my poor Limbs my Nails plow up and tear My chearful Eyes now with a constant Spring Of Tears bewail their own sad Suffering And those soft Lids that once secur'd mine Eye Now rude and bristled grown does drooping lie Bolting mine Eyes as in a gloomy cavâ— Which there on Furies and grim Objects rave 'T would fright the full-blown Gallant to behold The dying Object of a Man so old Nor can you think that once a Man he was Of humane reason who no portion has The Letters split when I consult my Book And ev'ry Leaf I turn'd does broader look In Darkness do I dream I see the Light When Light is Darkness to my perish'd Sight Without a Night t'oreshade him the bright Day Is from my Sense depriv'd and snatch'd away Who can deny that wrap'd in Nights Embrace I groping lie in the Tartarean place What mad Adviser would a Man perswade By his own Wish to be more wretched made Diseases now invade and Dangers swarm Sweet Banquets now and Entertainments harm We 're forc'd to wean our selves from grateful things And though we live avoid the sweets Life brings And me whom late no accident could bend Now the meer Aliments of Life offend I would be full am sick when I am so Should fast but abstinence is hurtful too 'T is chang'd to surfeit now what once was Meat And that 's now nauseous which before was sweet Venus and Bacchus's Rites now fruitless are That use to lull this Life's contingent Care. Nature alone panting and prosâ—rate lies Caught in the ruin of her proper Vice. Julip nor Cordial now no Comfort give Nor ought that should a Patient sick relieve But with their Matter their Corruption have And only serve to importune my Grave When I attempt to prop my falling Frame The Letts oppos'd make my Endeavours lame Until my Dissolutions tardy day All helps of Arts do with the thing decay And by th' appearance since th' afflicted Mind Can no diversion nor advantage find 〈◊〉 it not hard we may not from Mens Eyes Cloak and conceal Ages Indecencies Unseeming Spruceness th' old Man discommends And in old Men only to live offends With Mirth Feasts Songs the old must not dispense â—O wretched they whose Joys are an offence What should I do with Wealth whose use being ta'ne Although I swim in store I poor remain Nay 't is a Sin to what we have got to trust And what 's our own to violate unjust So thirsty Tantalus the neighbour Stream And Fruit would tast but is forbidden them I but the Treas'rer am of my own Pelf Keeping for others what 's deny'd my self And like the Fell Hesperian Dragon grown Defend that golden Fruit's no more my own This above all is that augments my Woes And robs my troubl'd Mind of all Repose I strive to keep things I could never gain And ignorantly hold some things in vain Continu'd Fears do credulous age invade And th' old Man dreads the ills himself has made Applauds the past condemns the present Years And only what he thinks Truth Truth appears He only learned is has all the skill And thinking himself wise is wider still Who though with Trouble he much Talk affords Faulters forgets and dribbles out his Words The Hearer's tir'd but he continues long O wretched Age only in prating strong Idly he talks and strains his feeble Voice Whilst those he pleas'd before laugh at his noise Their Mirth exalts him he still louder grows And dotingly his own Reproach allows These are Death's Firstlings Age does this way flow And with slow pace creeps to the Shades below Whilst the same Colour Meen nor pace appear In the poor Traveller that lately vvere My Garment from my vvither'd Limbs hangs down And vvhat before too short too long is grovvn We strangely are contracted and decrease A Man vvould think our very
Lâ—pidary's Bagatells Nor he that when he sleeps doth lye Under a stately Canopy Nor he that still supinely hides 〈◊〉 easie Down his lazy Sides Nor he that Purple wears and sups Luxurious Draughts in Golden Cups Nor he that loads with Princely fare His bowing Tables whil'st they 'll bear Nor he that has each spacious Vault With Deluges of Plenty fraught Cul'd from the fruitful Libyan Fields When Autumn his best Harvest yields But he whom no mischance affrights No Popular applause delights That can unmov'd and undismay'd Confront a Ruffins threatning Blade Who can do this that Man alone Has Power Fortune to Disthrone Q. Cicero de Mulierum levitate Translat COmmit a Ship unto the Wind But not thy Faith to Women kind For th' Oceans waving Billows are Safer than Womans Faith by far No Woman's Good and if there be Hereafter such a Thing as she â—Tis by I know not what of Fate That can from Bad a Good Create Epig. de Monsieur Maynard SOme Men of Sense and who pretend to be Ancient Well-willers to your Family Photiâ— give out that Baud Men may thee call And do thy modesty no wrong at all Thou swear'st they Infamously lye And that no Word of Verity They ever spake then or before And yet it cannot be deny'd But by thy Cuckold Husbands side Thou every Night dost lay a Whore. In Coccam Epig. de Monsieur Maynard THy Cheeks having their Roses shed And thy whole frame through Age become So loathsom for all use in Bed That 't is much fitter for a Tomb Cocca thou shouldst not be so vain Although thy Eloquence be great As to expect it should obtain That I should do the filthy Feat And that same Engine in your Hood You Cherish Court and Flatter so Now you have made him barely stood Is not so charitable though As in his vigorous Youth to be A Crutch to your Antiquity Epig. de Monsieur Maynard OLd Fop why should you take such pains To Paint and Perriwig it so My nobler Love alas disdains To stoop so infamously low Time that does mow the fairest Flowers Has made so very bold with yours You should expect to be deny'd The Footmen can no more endure you And if no sport in Hell assure you You 'll never more be Occupy'd Epig. writ in Calistas Prayer Book By Monsieur Malherbe WHilst you are Deaf to Love you my Fairest Calista Weep and Pray And yet alas no Mercy find Not but God's Merciful 't is true But can you think he 'll grant to you What you deny to all Mankind ODE Bacchique de Monsieur Racau I. NOw that the Day 's short and forlorn Of Melancholick Capricorn To Chimny-corners Men translate Drown we our Sorrows in the Glass And let the thoughts of Warfare pass The Clergy and the Third Estate II. Maynard I know what thou hast writ That sprightly issue of thy Wit Will live whilst there are Men to read But what if they recorded be In Memories Temple boots it thee When thou art gnawnby Worms and dead III. Henceforth those fruitless Studies spare Let 's rather Drink until we stare Of this delicious Juice of ours Which does in excellence precede The beverage which Ganimede Into th' Immortals Gebâ—et pours IV. The Juicâ— that sparkles in this Glass Make tediâ—us Years like Days to pass Yet makes us younger still become By this from lab'ring Thoughts are chas't The Sorrows of those ills are past And terrour of the ills to come V. Let us Drink brimmers then Time's fleet And steals away with winged Feet Halling us with him to our Urn In vain we sue to it to stay For Years like Rivers slide away And never never do return VI. When the Spring comes attir'd in Green Then Winter flies and is not seen New Tides do still supply the Main But when our frolick Youth 's once gone And Age has ta'ne Possession Time ne're restores us that again VII Death's Laws are universal and In Princes Pallaces command As well as in the Poorest Hut We 're to the Parcae subject all The Threads of Clowns and Monarchs shall Be both by the same Cizoâ—s cut VIII Their rigours which all things deâ—ace Will ravish in a little space Whatever we most lasting make And soon will lead us out to drink Beyond the Pitchy Rivers brink The Waters of oblivious Lake Lyrick Ex Cornelio Gallo LYdia thou lovely Maid whose VVhite The Milk and Lilly does outviâ— The Pale and Blushing Roses light Or polisht Indian Ivory Dishevel sweet thy yellow Hair Whose ray doth burnisht Gold disprize Dissolve thy Neck so brightly fair That doth from Snowy Shoulders rise Virgin unvail those starry Eyes Whose Sable Brows like Arches spread Unvail those Cheeks where the Rose lies Streak'd with the Tyrian Purples Red. Lead me those Lips with Coral lin'd And kisses mild of Doves impart Thou ravishest away my Mind Those gentle kisses steal my Heart Why suck'st thou from my panting Breast The Youthâ—ul vigour of my Blood Hide those â—wine-Apples ripe if prest To spring in to a Milky-flood From thy expanded Bosom breathe Perfumes Arabia doth not know Thy every part doth Love bequeath From thee all excellencies â—low Thy Bosoms killing White then shade Hide that temptation from mine Eye Thou â—eest I languish cruel Maid Wilt thou then go and let me dye De luxu libidine Epig. Tho. Mori LEt who would die to end his Woes Both Wench and Tipple and he goes Id. in Avarum EPIG WIth narrow Soul thou swim'st in glorious Wealth Rich to thy Heir but wretched to thy self Id. in Digamos EPIG WHo having one Wife buried Marries then After one Shipwrack tempts the Sea agen Stances de Monsieur de Scudery I. FAir Nymph by whose perfections mov'd My wounded Heart is turn'd to Flame â—y all admired by all approv'd â—â—dure at least to be belov'd Although you will not Love again II. Aminta as Unkind as Fair What is there that you ought to fear â—or cruel if I you declare And that indeed you cruel are Why the reproach may you not hear III. Even reproaches should delight If Friendship for me you have none And if no anger I have yet Enough perhaps that may invite Your hatred or compassion IV. When your Disdain is most severe When you most rigorous do prove When frowns of anger most you wear You still more charming do appear And I am more and more in Love. V. Ah! let me Sweet your sight enjoy Though with the forâ—eit of my Life For fall what will I 'de rather dye Beholding you of present Joy Than absent of a lingring Grief VI. 〈◊〉 your Eyes lighten till expiring In flame my Heart a Cinder lye â—â—lling is nobler than retiring 〈◊〉 in the glory of Aspiring 'T is brave to tumble from the Sky VII 〈◊〉 I would any thing imbrace Might serve your anger to appease 〈◊〉 if I may obtain my Grace â—our Steps shall leave no print nor trace I will not with Devotion kiss
Field of standing Corn In doubtfull conflict wave their pendant Heads By the uncertain Air confus'dly born Which only whispring the large Field orespreads But by a sudden storm depres't and torn Drooping their bearded tops to their first beds Whilst the rude Wind exalted with his prize To the next crop with riotous fury flies CVI. So far'd it with the League who for a space With equal fortune well maintain'd their post Fighting with equal brav'ry face to face No side of other could advantage boast Equal their Honor equal their Disgrace Till at the last all hopes of safety lost The valiant on the Bed of Honor lye Whilst the less daring in confusion fly CVII Half kill'd with fear the coward Rebels run Thorough the Field an Ignominious race Like fearfull Deer they crow'd away to shun The danger of the Loyal hunters Chase Who generously think too soon t' have won An easy Conquest with too little grace And wish they had better resistance â—ound To have their Acts with greater Glory Crown'd CVIII Although indâ—ed no Annalls can out speak Or speak enough of this great Victory Where such a handfull could such Squadrons break Repell their force and make their Captain fly In courage strong alas in numbers weak Arm'd only with their Faith and Loyalty But Heav'n was pleas'd to favour Henry's claim Against whose will all Earthly strength is vain CIX On ev'ry side the Monarch's Arms prevail And put the Leaguers to a shamefull flight They now pursue that Foe who to assail Their thiner Troops brought such a seeming might Some flying 'scape whilst others falling quail To bid their Honours with the World good Night But none so daring in that desp'rate State As once to turn and look upon his Fate CX Yet in this Torrent of admir'd success Even some Victors Hearts were full of woe Because their longing Eyes they could not bless With their Loves Object nor did all their know There Prince's safety and their happiness But fear'd him fall'n in the late overthrow In such a doubtfull and afflicted sort Many had drunk the poyson of report CXI But when they saw him from the Chase retire Their drooping Spirits then began to wake The Souldiers crow'd t' approach their Sov'rain nigher And as their Eyes a full assurance take Their Loyal Hearts o're charg'd with zealous fire Straight into Thundring Acclimations break Vive le Roy thorough the Welkin ran Which so auspitiously the Day began CXII Still like the Sparks of a late master'd fire Some Foes appear'd on the forsaken Plain The Leaguers Infantry remain'd entire Of which the sturdy Swisse seem'd to disdain A shamefull flight nor could they safe retire But to their ruine and Eternal shame Wherefore the brawny Clowns as undismay'd Some shew of resolute resistance made CXIII But when they saw the Canon drawing neer To force their Arms and tame their fruitless pride Their stubborn Hearts then thaw'd away in fear Their threatning words and looks were laid aside They think to trust his mercy safest were Whose Conquering Sword they had so lately try'd And straight way down their useless weapons threw To beg that grace chance had reduc't them to CXIV Nor were they ill advis'd for the brave king So scorn'd the ruin of a prostrate Foe That sooner could they not their Arms down fling Than he preserve them from the Angry blow That Death and Vengeance both were levelling With Fire and Sword to work their overthrow His Princely Quarter they do all obtain Without one Wound that might his Mercy stain CXV But with the German Foot far worse it far'd Whose base revolt from the King's Standard made Their Crime so black and Mercies doors so barr'd The Souldiers hands could be no longer stay'd But for their Treason as a just reward The faithless Squadrons furiously invade Strewing the Plain with their dismembered Limbs Which in the Ocean of their false Blood swims CXVI And now the Fields the Conquerors entire No opposition left no Foe appears The Royalists triumphantly retire Whilst Victory the waving Banners bears Nor dare my Muse to other Acts aspire So much the Fate of this attempt she feares Owning her weakness in Heroick Song That may have done these noble Heroes wrong CXVII Thus did this Day so doubtfully begun Set red in Henry's Honour and Renown He that in all his Battails ever won A Victor's Wreath and in this last his Crown Which having humbly kiss't the bafl'd Sun Into the Western Ocean bow'd him down Leaving fair France unto his brighter Ray May ev'ry injur'd Prince have such a Day W. WHYTE Amen FINIS Advertisement THe Great French Dictionary In Two Parts The First French and English The Second English and French according to the Ancient and Modern Orthography Wherein Eâ—ch Language 〈◊〉 Set forth in its greatest Latitude The various Senses of Words both Proper and Figurative are orderly Digested and â—llustrated with Apposite 〈◊〉 and Proverbs The Hard Words Explained and the Proprieties Adjusted To which are Prefixed the Grounds of Both Languages in Two Grammatical Discourses the One English and the Other French. By Guy Miâ—ge Gent London Printed for Thomas Basset at the George near St. Dunstan's Church in Fleet-street