wildest Pow'rs doth tame His Providence extending every-where His Justice which proud Rebels doth not spare In every Page no Period of the same But silly we like foolish Children rest Well pleas'd with colour'd Velum Leaves of Gold Faire dangling Ribbands leaving what is best On the great Writers sense ne're taking hold Or if by chance we stay our Minds on ought It is some Picture on the Margine wrought THe Griefe was common common were the cries Teares Sobs and Groanes of that afflicted Traine Which of Gods chosen did the Sum containe And Earth rebounded with them pierc'd were Skies All good had left the World each Vice did raign In the most monstrous sorts Hell could devise And all Degrees and each Estate did staine Nor further had to go whom to surprize The World beneath the Prince of Darknesse lay And in each Temple had himselfe install'd Was sacrific'd unto by Prayers call'd Responses gave which fooles they did obey When pittying Man God of a Virgines wombe Was borne and those false Deities strooke dumbe RUn Shepheards run where Bethlem blest appears We bring the best of News be not dismay'd A Saviour there is borne more old than yeares Amidst the rolling Heaven this Earth who stay'd In a poore Cottage Inn'd a Virgin Maid A weakling did him beare who all upbeares There he in Cloaths is wrapt in Manger laid To whom too narrow Swadlings are our Spheares Run Shepheards run and solemnize his Birth This is that Night no Day grown great with Blisse In which the Power of Satan broken is In Heaven be Glory Peace unto the Earth Thus singing through the Aire the Angels swame And all the Stars re-ecchoed the same O Than the fairest day thrice fairer night Night to best Daies in which a Sun doth rise Of which the golden Eye which cleares the Skies Is but a sparkling Ray a Shadow light And blessed ye in silly Pastors sight Mild Creatures in whose warme Crib now lies That Heaven-sent Youngling holy-Maid-born Wight ' Midst end beginning of our Prophesies Blest Cottage that hath Flow'rs in Winter spread Though withered blessed Grasse that hath the grace To deck and be a Carpet to that Place Thus singing to the sounds of oaten Reed Before the Babe the Shepheards bow'd their knees And Springs ran Nectar Honey dropt from Trees TO spread the azure Canopy of Heaven And make it twinkle with those spangs of Gold To stay the pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold To give strange motions to the Planets seven Or Jove to make so meek or Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet accords are given Lord to thy Wisdom's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come meanely in mortality to ' bide And die for those deserv'd eternall plight A wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to muse on it THe last and greatest Herauld of Heavens King Girt with rough Skins hies to the Desarts wild Among that savage brood the Woods forth bring Which he more harmelesse found than man and mild His food was Locusts and what there doth spring With Honey that from Virgine Hives distill'd Parcht Body hollow Eyes some uncouth thing Made him appeare long since from Earth exil'd There burst he forth all ye whose Hopes rely On God with me amidst these Desarts mourne Repent repent and from old errours turne Who list'ned to his voice obey'd his cry Only the Ecchoes which he made relent Rung from their flinty Caves repent repent THese Eyes deare Lord once Tapers of Desire Fraile Scouts betraying what they had to keep Which their own heart then others set on fire Their trait'rous black before thee here out-weep These Locks of blushing deeds the gilt attire Waves curling wrackfull shelves to shadow deep Rings wedding Soules to Sins lethargick sleep To touch thy sacred Feet do now aspire In Seas of care behold a sinking Barke By winds of sharpe remorse unto thee driven O let me not be Ruines aym'd at marke My faults confest Lord say they are forgiven Thus sigh'd to Jesus the Bethanian faire His teare-wet Feet still drying with her Haire I changed Countries new delights to find But ah for pleasure I did find new paine Enchanting Pleasure so did Reason blind That Fathers love and words I scorn'd as vaine For Tables rich for bed for following traine Of carefull servants to observe my Mind These Heards I keep my fellows are assign'd My Bed's a Rock and Herbs my Life sustaine Now while I famine feele feare worser harmes Father and Lord I turne thy Love yet great My faults will pardon pitty mine estate This where an aged Oake had spread its Armes Thought the lost Child while as the Heards he led And pin'd with hunger on wild Acorns fed IF that the World doth in amaze remaine To heare in what a sad deploring mood The Pelican poures from her brest her Bloud To bring to life her younglings back againe How should we wonder at that soveraigne Good Who from that Serpents sting that had us slaine To save our lives shed his Lifes purple flood And turn'd to endlesse Joy our endlesse Paine Ungratefull Soule that charm'd with false Delight Hast long long wander'd in Sins flowry Path And didst not thinke at all or thoughtst not right On this thy Pelicans great Love and Death Here pause and let though Earth it scorn heaven seâ— Thee poure forth tears to him pour'd Bloud for thee IF in the East when you do there behold Forth from his Christall Bed the Sun to rise With rosie Robes and Crowne of flaming Gold If gazing on that Empresse of the Skies That takes so many formes and those faire Brands Which blaze in Heavens high Vault Nights watchful eyes If seeing how the Seas tumultuous Bands Of bellowing Billows have their course confin'd How unsustain'd the Earth still stedfast stands Poore mortall Wights you e're found in your Mind A thought that some great King did sit above Who had such Laws and Rites to them assign'd A King who fix'd the Poles made Spheares to move All Wisdome Purenesse Excellency Might All Goodnesse Greatnesse Justice Beauty Love With feare and wonder hither turne your Sight See see alas him now not in that State Thought could fore-cast Him into Reasons light Now Eyes with tears now Hearts with griefe make great Bemoane this cruell Death and ruthfull case If ever Plaints just Woe could aggravate From Sin and Hell to save us humane Race See this great King nail'd to an abject Tree An object of reproach and sad disgrace O unheard Pity Love in strange degree He his own Life doth give his Bloud doth shed For Wormelings base such Worthinesse to see Poore Wights behold his Visage pale as Lead His Head bow'd to His Brest Locks sadly rent Like a cropt Rose that languishing doth fade Weake Nature weepe astonish'd World lament Lament you Winds
thee are one that which hath run And that which is not brought yet by the Sun To thee are present who dost alwaies see In present act what past is or to be Day-livers we rememberance do lose Of Ages worne so Miseries us tosse Blind and lethaâ—gick of thy heavenly Grace Which Sin in our first Parents did deface And even while Embrions curst by justest doome That we neglect what gone is or to come But thou in thy great Archives scrolled hast In parts and whole what ever yet hath past Since first the marble Wheels of Time were roll'd As ever living never waxing old Still is the same thy Day and Yesterday An undivided Now a constant Ay. O King whose Greatnesse none can comprehend Whose boundlesse Goodnesse doth to all extend Light of all Beauty Ocean without ground That standing flowest giving dost abound Rich Pallace and Endweller ever blest Never not working ever yet in Rest What wit cannot conceive words say of Thee Here where we as but in a Mirrour see Shadows of shadows Atomes of thy Might Still owly-eyed when staring on thy Light Grant that released from this earthly Jaile And freed from Clouds which here our Knowledge vaile In Heavens high Temples where thy Praises ring In sweeter Notes I may heare Angels sing GReat God whom we with humbled Thoughts adore Eternall Infinite Almighty King Whose Dwellings Heaven transcend whose Throne before Archangels serve and Seraphines do sing Of nought who wrought all that with wondring Eyes We do behold within this various Round Who makes the Rocks to rocke to stand the Skies At whose command Clouds peales of Thunder sound Ah! spare us Wormes weigh not how we alas Evill to our selves against thy Laws rebell Wash off those spots which still in Conscience Glasse Though we be loath to look we see too well Deserv'd Revenge oh do not do not take If thou revenge who shall abide thy Blow Passe shall this World this World which thou didst make Which should not perish till thy Trumpet blow What Soule is found whom Parents Crime not staines Or what with its own Sins defil'd is not Though Iustice Rigor threaten yet her Raines Let Mercy guide and never be forgot Lesse are our Faults far far than is thy Love O what can better seeme thy Grace divine Than they who plagues deserve thy Bounty prove And where thou show'r mayst Vengeance there to shine Then look and pitty pittying forgive Us guilty Slaves or Servants now in thrall Slaves if alas thou look how we do live Or doing ill or doing nought at all Of an ungratefull Mind a foule Effect But if thy Gifts which largely heretofore Thou hast upon us pour'd thou dost respect We are thy Servants nay than Servants more Thy Children yes and Children dearely bought But what strange Chance us of this Lot bereaves Poore worthless Wights how lowly are we brought Whom Grace once Children made Sin hath made Slaves Sin hath made Slaves but let those Bands Grace breake That in our Wrongs thy Mercies may appeare Thy Wisdome not so meane is Pow'r so weake But thousand waies they can make Worlds thee feare O Wisdome boundless O miraculous Grace Grace Wisdome which make winke dimme Reasons Eye And could Heavens King bring from his placeless Place On this ignoble Stage of Care to dye To dye our Death and with the sacred Streame Of Bloud and Water gushing from his Side To make us cleane of that contagious Blame First on us brought by our first Parents Pride Thus thy great Love and Pity heavenly King Love Pity which so well our Loss prevent Of Evill it selfe loe could all Goodness bring And sad beginning cheare with glad event O Love and Pity ill known of these Times O Love and Pity carefull of our need O Bounties which our horrid Acts and Crimes Grown numberless contend neare to exceed Make this excessive ardour of thy love So warme our Coldness so our Lifes renew That we from Sin Sin may from us remove Wisdome our Will Faith may our Wit subdue Let thy pure Love burne up all worldly Lust Hells candid Poyson killing our best part Which makes us joy in Toyes adore fraile Dust Instead of Thee in Temple of our Heart Grant when at last our Soules these Bodies leave Their loathsome Shops of sin and Mansions blind And Doome before thy Royall Seat receive A Saviour more than Judge they thee may find THE WANDRING MUSES OR The River of FORTH FEASTING IT BEING A Panegyrick to the High and Mighty Prince James King of Great Brittaine France and Ireland BY WILLIAM DRUMMOND Of HAVVTHORNDEN LONDON Printed in the Yeare 1656. To His Sacred Majesty IF in this Storme of joy and pompous Throng This Nymph great King doth come to Thee so neare That thy harmonious Eares Her accents heare Give Pardon to Her hoarse and lowly Song Faine would shee Trophees to Thy Vertues reare But for this stately taske She is not strong And her Defects Her high Attempts do wrong Yet as she could She makes thy Worth appeare So in a Map is shown this flowry Place So wrought in Arras by a Virgins Hand With Heaven and blazing Stars doth Atlas stand So drawn by Char-coale is Narcissus Face She like the Morn may be to some bright Sun The Day to perfect that 's by her begun The River of FORTH FEASTING A Panegyrick to the High and Mighty Prince James King of Great Brittaine France and Ireland WHat blustring Noise now interrups my Sleeps What ecchoing Shouts thus cleave my christall Deeps And seems to call me from my watry Court What Melody what sounds of Joy and Sport Are convey'd hither from each Night-borne Spring With what loud Rumours do the Mountaines ring Which in unusuall Pompe on tip-toes stand And full of Wonder overlook the Land Whence come these glitt'ring Throngs these Meteors bright This golden People glancing in my sight Whence doth this Praise Applause and Love arise What Load-star East-ward draweth thus all Eyes Am I awake Or have some Dreames conspir'd To mock my Sense with what I most desir'd View I that living Face see I those Looks Which with Delight were wont t' amaze my Brooks Do I behold that Worth that Man divine This Ages Glory by these Bankes of mine Then find I true what long I wish'd in vaine My much beloved Prince is come againe So unto them whose Zenith is the Pole When six black Months are past the Sun doth roll So after Tempest to Sea-tossed Wights Faire Helens Brothers show their clearing Lights So comes Arabias wonder from her Woods And far far off is seen by Memphis Flouds The feather'd Sylvans Cloud-like by her flie And with triumphing plaudits beat the Skie Nyle marvels Seraps Priests entranced rave And in Mygdonian stone her Shape ingrave In lasting Cedars they do marke the Time In which Apollos Bird came to their Clime Let Mother Earth now deckt with Flow'rs be seen And sweet-breath'd Zephyres curle the Meadows green Let Heaven weep Rubies
yeare surveyes all Earth and skie Now glaunces on the slow and resty Beares Then turnes to dry the weeping Austers teares Hurries to both the Poles and moveth even In the infigur'd Circle of the Heaven O long long haunt these Bounds which by thy sight Have now regain'd their former Heat and Light Here grow green Woods here silver Brooks do glide Here Meadows stretch them out with painted Pride Embroyd'ring all the Banks here Hills aspire To crown their Heads with the aethereall Fire Hills Bulwarks of our Freedome giant walls Which never friends did slight nor Sword made thralls Each circling Floud to Thetis Tribute paies Men here in Health out-live old Nestors daies Grim Saturne yet amongst our Rocks remaines Bound in our Caves with many Mettal'd Chaines Bulls haunt our shades like Ledas Lover white Which yet might breed Pasiphae delight Our Flocks faire Fleeces beare with which for sport Endimion of old the Moon did court High-palmed Harts amidst our Forrests run And not impall'd the deep-mouth'd Hounds do shun The rough-foot Hare safe in our Bushes shrowds And long-wing'd Hawkes do pearch amidst our clouds The wanton wood-Nymphs of the verdant Spring Blew Golden Purple Flow'rs shall to thee bring Pomonas Fruits the Panisks Thetis Gyrles Thy Thulys Amber with the Ocean Pearles The Tritons Heardsmen of the glassie Field Shall give thee what far-distant shoares can yeeld The Serean Fleeces Erythrean Gems Waste Platas Silver Gold of Peru Streames Antartick Parrots Aethiopian Plumes Sabaean Odours Myrrhe and sweet Perfumes And I my selfe wrapt in a watchet Gown Of Reeds and Lillies on mine Head a Crown Shall Incense to thee Burne green Altars raise And yearly sing due Paeans to Thy Praise Ah why should Isis only see Thee shine Is not thy Forth as well as Isis Thine Though Isis vaunt she hath more Wealth in store Let it suffice Thy Forth doth love Thee more Though she for Beauty may compare with Seine For Swans and Sea-Nymphs with imperiall Rheine Yet for the Title may be claim'd in Thee Nor She nor all the World can match with me Now when by Honour drawn Thou shalt away To Her already jealous of Thy Stay When in Her amorous Armes She doth Thee fold And dries thy Dewy Haires with Hers of Gold Much asking of Thy Fare much of Thy Sport Much of Thine Absence Long how e're so short And chides perhaps Thy comming to the North Loath not to thinke on Thy much-loving Forth O love these Bounds whereof Thy Royall Stem More than an hundred wore a Diadem So ever Gold and Baies Thy Brows adorne So never Time may see Thy Race out-worne So of Thine Own still mayst Thou be desir'd Of Strangers fear'd redoubted and admir'd So Memory Thee Praise so precious Hours May character Thy Name in starry Flow'rs So may Thy high Exploits at last make even With Earth Thy Empire Glory with the Heaven SPEECHES TO THE HIGH AND EXCELLENT PRINCE CHARLES King of Great Brittaine France and Ireland at His Entring His City of EDENBURGH Delivered from the Pageants the 15th of June 1633. LONDON Printed in the Yeare 1656. An intended Speech at the West Gate SIR if Nature could suffer Rocks to move and abandon their naturall places this Town founded on the strength of Rocks now by the all-cheering Rayes of Your Majesties Presence taking not only Motion but Life had with her Castell Temples and Houses moved toward you and besought you to acknowledge Her yours and Her Inhabitants your most humble and affectionate Subjects and to beleeve how â—any soules are within Her Circuits so many Lives are devoted to your sacred Person and Crown And here Sir She offers by me to the Altar of your Glory whole Hecatombs of most happy desires praying all things may prove prosperous unto you that every Vertue and Heroick Grace which make a Prince eminent may with a long and â—lessed Government attend you Your Kingdoms flourishing abroad with Bayes at home with Olives Presenting you Sir who are the Strong Key of this little World of Great Brittaine with these Keyes which cast up the Gates of Her affection and designe you Power to open all the Springs of the Hearts of these Her most loyall Citizens Yet this almost not necessary for as the Rose at the far appearing of the Morning Sun displayeth and spreadeth her purples so at the very Report of your happy returne to this your native Countrey their Hearts as might be apparent if they could have shined through their Breasts were with joy and faire hopes made spacious nor did they ever in all parts feele a more comfortable heat than the Glory of your Presence at this time darteth upon them The Old forget their Age and look fresh and young at the sight of so gracious a Prince The Young beare a Part in your Welcome desiring many yeares of Life that they may serve you long all have more joyes than Tongues for as the words of other Nations far go beyond and surpasse the affection of their hearts So in this Nation the affection of their hearts is far above all they can expresse by words Daigne then Sir from the highest of Majesty to look down on their lownesse and embrace it accept the homage of their humble minds accept their gratefull zeale and for deeds accept that great good-will which they have ever carried to the high deserts of your Ancestors and shall ever to your Own and your Royall Race whilest these Rocks shall be overshadowed with Buildings these Buildings inhabited by men and while men shall be endued either with counsell or courage or enjoy any peece of Reason Sense or Life The Speech of Caledonia representing the Kingdom THe Heavens have heard our vows our just desires Obtained are no higher now aspires Our wishing thought since to his native Clime The Flower of Princes honour of his Time Encheering all our Dales Hills Forrests Streames As Phoebus doth the Summer with his beames Is come and radiant to us in his traine The golden Age and vertues brings againe Prince so much longed for how thou becalm'st Minds easelesse anguish every care embalm'st With the sweet odours of thy Presence Now In swelling Tides Joyes every where do flow By thine approach and that the World may see What unthought wonders do attend on Thee This Kingdomes Angell I who since that day That ruthlesse Fate thy Parent rest away And made a Star appear'd not any where To gratulate thy comming come am here Haile Princes Phoenix Monarch of all Hearts Soveraigne of Love and Justice who imparts More than thou canst receive To thee this Crown Is due by birth but more it is thine own By just desert and ere another brow Than thine should reach the same my flouds should flow With hot Vermilian gore and every Plaine Levell the hills with Carkasses of slaine This Isle become a red Sea Now how sweet Is it to me when Love and Laws thus meet To girt thy Temples with this Diadem My Nurselings sacred
you Heaven that all containes And thou my Soule let nought thy Griefes relent Those Hands those sacred Hands which hold the reines Of this great All and kept from mutuall wars The Elements beare rent for thee their Veines Those Feet which once must trade on golden Stars For thee with Nails would be pierc'd through and torn For thee Heavens King from Heaven himselfe debars This great heart-quaking Dolour waile and mourne Yee that long since Him saw by might of Faith Ye now that are and ye yet to be borne Not to behold his great Creators Death The Sun from sinfull eyes hath vail'd his light And faintly journies up Heavens saphyre Path And cutting from her Brows her Tresses bright The Moone doth keep her Lords sad Obsequâ—es Impearling with her Teares her Robe of Night All staggering and lazie lowre the Skies The Earth and elementall Stages quake The long-since dead from bursted Graves arise And can things wanting sense yet sorrow take And beare a part with him who all them wrought And Man though borne with cries shall pitty lack Thinke what had been your state had he not brought To these sharpe Pangs himselfe and priz'd so high Your soules that with his Life them life he bought What woes do you attend if still ye lye Plung'd in your wonted ordures wretched Brood Shall for your sake againe God ever die O leave deluding shews embrace true good He on you calls forgo Sins shamefull trade With Prayers now seek Heaven and not with Bloud Let not the Lambs more from their Dams be had Nor Altars blush for sin live every thing That long time long'd for sacrifice is made All that is from you crav'd by this great King Is to beleeve a pure Heart Incense is What gift alas can we him meaner bring Haste sin-sick Soules this season do not misse Now while remorselesse Time doth grant you space And God invites you to your only Blisse He who you calls will not deny you Grace But low-deep bury faults so ye repent His Armes loe stretched are you to embrace When Daies are done and Lifes small sparke is spent So you accept what freely here is given Like brood of Angels deathlesse all-content Ye shall for ever live with him in Heaven COme forth come forth ye blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Town Come see that King which all this All commands Now overcharg'd with Love die for his own Look on those Nailes which pierce his Feet and Hands What a sharpe Diadem his Brows doth crown Behold his pallid Face his heavy frown And what a throng of Thieves him mocking stands Come forth ye Empyrean Troupes come forth Preserve this sacred Bloud that Earth adornes Gather those liquid Roses off his Thornes O! to be lost they be of too much worth For Streams 1 Juice 2 Balm 3 they are which quench 1 kills 2 charmes 3 Of God 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the wrath 1 the life 2 the harmes3. SOule whom Hell did once inthrall He He for thine offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soveraigne Excellence O life of all that lives Eternall Bounty which each good thing gives How could Death mount so high No wit this Point can reach Faith only doth us teach He died for us at all who could not dye LIfe to give life deprived is of Life And Death display'd hath Ensigne against Death So violent the Rigour was of Death That nought could daunt it but the Life of Life No Power had Pow'r to thrall Lifes Pow'rs to Death But willingly Life down hath laid Life Love gave the wound which wrought this worke of Death His Bow and Shafts were of the Tree of Life Now quakes the Author of eternall Death To find that they whom late he rest of Life Shall fill his Roome above the lists of Death Now all rejoyce in Death who hope for Life Dead Jesus lies who Death hath kill'd by Death No Tombe his Tombe is but new Source of Life RIse from those fragrant Climes thee now embrace Unto this World of Ours O haste thy Race Faire Sun and though contrarie waies all yeare Thou hold thy course now with the highest Sheare Joyne thy blew Wheeles to hasten Time that low'rs And lazy Minutes turne to perfect Houres The Night and Death too long a league have made To stow the World in Horrours ugly shade Shake from thy Locks a Day with Safron raies So faire that it outshine all other daies And yet do not presumâ— great Eye of Light To be that which this Day must make so bright See an Eternall Sun hasts to arise Not from the Easterne blushing Seas or Skies Or any stranger Worlds Heavens Concaves have But from the Darknesse of an hollow Grave And this is that all-powerfull Sun above That crown'd thy Brows with Rays first made thee moâ— Lights Trumpeters ye need not from your Bow'rs Proclaime this Day this the angelick Pow'rs Have done for you But now an opall hew Bepaints Heavens Christall to the longing view Earths late hid Colours shine Light doth adorne The World and weeping Joy forth comes the Morne And with her as from a Lethargick Trance The breath return'd that Bodies doth advance Which two sad Nights in Rock lay coffin'd dead And with an iron Guard invironed Life out of Death Light out of Darknesse springs From a base Jaile forth comes the King of Kings What late was mortall thrall'd to every woe That lackeys life or upon sense doth grow Immortall is of an eternall Stampe Far brighter beaming than the morning Lampe So from a black Ecclipse out-peares the Sun Such when her course of Daies have on her run In a far Forrest in the pearly East And she her selfe hath burnt and spicie Nest The lovely Bird with youthfull Pens and Combe Doth sore from out her Cradle and her Tombe So a small seed that in the Earth lies hid And dies reviving bursts her cloddy Side Adorn'd with yellow Locks of new is borne And doth become a Mother great with Corne Of Graines brings hundreds with it which when old Enrich the Furrows which do float with Gold Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile That Hell doth ransake against Death prevaile O how thou long'd for com'st with joyfull cries The all-triumphing Palatines of Skies Salute thy rising Earth would Joyes no more Beare if thou rising didst them not restore A silly Tombe should not his Flesh enclose Who did Heavens trembling Tarasses dispose No Monument should such a Jewell hold No Rock though Ruby Diamond and Gold Thou didst lament and pitty humane Race Bestowing on us of thy free-given Grace More than we forfeited and losed first In Eden Rebells when we were accurst Then Earth our portion was Earths Joyes but given Earth and Earths Blisse thou hast exchang'd with heaven O what a hight of good upon us streames From the great splendor of thy Bounties Beames When we deserv'd shame horrour flames of wrath Thou bledst our wounds and suffer didst
For humanes Earth enjoying Angels Heaven Swift is your mortall Race And glassie is the Field Vaste are Desires not limited by Grace Life a weake Taper is Then while it light doth yeeld Leave flying Joyes embrace this lasting Blisse This when the Nymph had said Shâ—e div'd within the Floud Whose Face with smyling Curles long after staid Then Sighs did Zephyres presse Birds sang from every Wood And Ecchoes rang this was true Happinesse An Hymne on the Fairest Faire I Feele my Bosome glow with wontlesse Fires Rais'd from the vulgar presse my Mind aspires Wing'd with high Thoughts unto his praise to clime From deep Eternity who call'd forth Time That Essence which not mov'd makes each thing move Uncreate Beauty all-creating Love But by so great an object radiant light My Heart appall'd enfeebled rests my Sight Thick Clouds benight my labouring Ingine And at my high attempts my Wits repine If thou in me this sacred heat hast wrought My Knowledge sharpen Sarcells lend my Thought Grant me Times Father world-containing King A Pow'r of thee in pow'rfull Laies to sing That as thy Beauty in Earth lives Heaven shines It dawning may or shadow in my Lines As far beyond the starry walls of Heaven As is the loftiest of the Planets seven Sequestred from this Earth in purest light Out-shining ours as ours doth sable Night Thou all-sufficient Omnipotent Thou ever-glorious most excellent God various in Names in Essence one High art enstalled on a golden Throne Out-stretching Heavens wide bespangled vault Transcending all the Circles of our Thought With diamantine Scepter in thy Hand There thou giv'st Laws and dost this World command This World of Concords rais'd unlikely sweet Which like a Ball lies prostrate at thy Feet If so we may well say and what we say Here wrapt in flesh led by dim Reasons ray To show by earthly Beauties which we see That spirituall Excellence that shines in thee Good Lord forgive not far from thy right Side With curled Locks Youth ever doth abide Rose-cheeked Youth who gaâ—landed with Flow'rs Still blooming ceaselessely unto thee pow'rs Immortall Nectar in a cup of Gold That by no darts of Ages thou grow old And as ends and beginnings thee not claime Successionlesse that thou be still the same Neare to thy other side resistlesse Might From Head to Foot in burnisht Armour dight That rings about him with a waving Brand And watchfull Eye great Sentinell doth stand That neither Time nor force in ought impaire Thy Workmanship nor harme thine Empire faire Soone to give Death to all againe that would Sterne Discord raise which thou destroy'd of old Discord that foe to order Nurse of War By which the noblest things demolisht are But caitife she no Treason doth devise When Might to nought doth bring her enterprise Thy all-upholding Might her Malice raines And her to Hell throws bound in iron Chaines With Locks in waves of Gold that ebbe and flow On Ivory neck in Robes more white than Snow Truth stedfastly before thee holds a Glasse Indent'd with Gems where shineth all that was That is or shall be here ere ought was wrought Thou knew all that thy Pow'r with time forth brought And more things numberlesse which thou couldst make That actually shall never being take Here thou beholdst thy selfe and strange dost prove At once the Beauty Lover and the Love With Faces two like Sisters sweetly faire Whose Blossomes no rough Autumne can impaire Stands Providence and doth her looks disperse Through every Corner of this Universe Thy Providence at once which generall things And singular doth rule as Empires Kings Without whose care this world lost would remaine As Ship withou a Master in the Maine As Chariot alone as Bodies prove Depriv'd of Soules whereby they be live move But who are they which shine thy Throne so neare With sacred countenance and look severâ— This in one hand a pondrous Sword doth hold Her left staies charg'd with Ballances of Gold That with Brows girt with â—ays sweet-smiling Face Doth beare a Brandon with a babish grace Two milke-white Wings him easily do move O she thy Justice is and this thy Love By this thou brought'st this Engine great to light By that it fram'd in Number Measure Weight That destine doth reward to ill and good But Sway of Justice is by Love withstood Which did it not relent and mildly stay This World ere now had found its funerall Day What Bands enâ—â—â—ctred neare to thâ—se abide Which into vaste Infinity them hide Infinity that neither doth admiâ— Place Time nor Number to 〈◊〉 on it Here Bounty sparkleth here doth Beauty shine Simplicity more white than Gelsomine Mercy with open wings aye-varied Blisse Glory and Joy that Blisses darling is Ineffable all-pow'rfull God all free Thou only liv'st and each thing lives by thee No Joy no nor Perfection to thee came By the contriving of this Worlds great Frame Ere Sun Moon Stars began their restlesse race Ere painted was with light Heavens pâ—re Face Ere Aire had Clâ—uâ—s ere Clouds wept down their show'rs Ere Sea embraced Earth ere Earth bare Flow'rs Thou happy liv'dst World nought to thee supply'd All in thy selfe thy selfe thou satisfi'd Of Good no slender Shadow doth appeare No age-worne tâ—aâ—ke which shin'd in thee not cleare Perfections Sum prime-cause of every Cause Midst end beginning where all good doth pause Hence of thy Substance differing in nought Thou in Eâ—ernity thy Son forth brought The only Birth of thy unchanging Mind Thine Image Pattern-like that ever shin'd Light out of Light begotten not by Will But Naâ—ure all and that same Essence still Which thou thy selfe for thou dost nought possesse Which he hath not in ought nor is he lesse Thâ—â— Thee his great Begâ—ttâ—â— of this Light Eternall Double kindled was thy Spright Eternally who is with Thee the same All-holy Gift Embassadour Knot Flame Most sacred Triad O most holy One Unprocreate Father â—ver-procreate Son Ghost breath'd from both you were are still shall be Most blessed Three in One and One in Three Uncomprehensible by reachlesse Hight And unperceived by excessive Light So in our Soules three and yet one are still The Vnderstanding Memory and Will So though unlike the Planet of the Daies So soone as he was made begat his Raies Which are his Off-spring and from both was hurld The rosie Light which consolates the World And none fore-went another so the spring The Well-head and the Streame which they forth bring Are but one selfe-same Essence not in ought Do differ save in order and our Thought No chime of Time discernes in them to fall But Three distinctly â—ide one Essence all But these expresse not Thee who can declare Thy being Men and Angels dazel'd are Who would this Eden force with wit or sense A Cherubin shall find to bar him thence Great Architect Lord of this Universe That light is blinded would thy Greatnesse pierce Ah! as a Pilgrim who the Alpes doth passe Or Atlas Temples crown'd
feare and dearest Gem Nor Roman Saxon Pict by sad alarmes Could this acquire and keep the Heavens in armes From us repell all perills nor by wars Ought here was won or gaping wounds and scars Our Lions Clymacterick now is past And crown'd with Bayes he rampeth free at last Here are no Serean Fleeces Peru Gold Auroras Gems nor Wares by Tyrians sold Towns swell not here with Babylonian Walls Nor Nero's sky-resembling gold-seel'd Halls Nor Memphis Spires nor Quinzayes arched Frames Captiving Seas and giving Lands their names Faith milke-white Faith of old belov'd so well Yet in this corner of the world doth dwell With her pure Sisters Truth Simplicity Here banish'd Honour beares them company A Mars-adoring Brood is here their wealth Sound minds and bodies of as sound a health Walls here are Men who fence their Cities more Than Neptune when he doth in Mountaines roare Doth guard this Isle or all those Forts and Tow'rs Amphions Harpe rais'd about Thebes bow'rs Heavens Arch is oft their roofe the pleasant shed Of Oake and Plaine oft serves them for a Bed To suffer want soft pleasure to despise Run over panting Mountaines crown'd with Ice Râ—vers o'recome the wastest Lakes appall Being to themselves Oars Steerers Ship and all Is their renown a brave all-doring Race Couragious prudent doth this Climate grace Yet the firme Base on which their glory stands In peace true hearts in wars is valiant hands Which here great King they offer up to thee Thy worth respecting as thy pedegree Though it be much to come of Princely stem More is it to deserve a Diadem Vouchsafe blest People ravisht here with me To thinke my thoughts and see what I do see A Prince all gracious affable divine Meeke wise just valiant whose radiant shine Of Vertues like the Stars about the Pole Guilding the Night enlightneth every Soule Your Scepter swaies a Prince borne in this Age To guard the Innocents from Tyrants rage To make Peace prosper Justice to reflow'r In desert hamlet as in Lordly Bow'r A Prince that though of none he stands in awe Yet first subjects himselfe to his own Law Who joyes in good and still as right directs His greatnesse measures by his good effects His Peoples pedestall who rising high To grace this Throne makes Scotlands name to fly On Halcyons wings her glory which restores Beyond the Ocean to Columbus shores Gods sacred Picture in this man adore Honour his Valour Zeale his Piety more High value what you hold him deep engrave In your hearts Heart from whom all good ye have For as Moons splendor from her Brother springs The Peoples welfare streameth from their Kings Since your loves Object doth immortall prove O love this Prince with an eternall love Pray that those Crowns his Ancestors did weare His temples long more orient may beare That good he reach by sweetnesse of his sway That even his shadow may the bad affray That Heaven on him what he desires bestow That still the glory of his greatnesse grow That your begun felicities may last That no Orion do with stormes them blast That Victory his brave exploits attend East West or South where he his Force shall bend Till his great Deeds all former Deeds surmount And quaile the Nimrod of the Hellespont That when his well-spent care all care becalmes He may in Peace sleep in a shade of Palmes And rearing up faire Trophees that heavens may Extend his life to worlds extreamest day The Song of the Muses at Parnassus AT length we see those Eyes Which cheere both Earth and Skies Now ancient Caledon Thy Beauties heighten richest Robes put on And let young joyes to all thy parts arise Here could thy Prince still stay Each Month should turne to May We need nor Star nor Sun Save him to lengthen Daies and Joyes begun Sorrow and Night to far Climes haste away Now Majesty and Love Combin'd are from above Prince never Scepter sway'd Lov'd Subjects more of Subjects more obey'd Which may endure whilst Heavens great Orbes do move Joyes did you alwaies last Lifes sparke you soon would waste Griefe follows sweet Delight As Day is shadowed by sable Night Yet shall Remembrance keep you still when past The Speeches at the Horoscopall Pageant by the Planets Endymion ROus'd from the Latmian Cave where many yeares That Empresse of the lowest of the Spheares Who cheers the Night did keep me hid apart From mortall Wights to ease her love-sick heart As young as when she did me first enclose As fresh in beauty as the morning Rose Endymion that whilome kept my Flocks Upon Ionias flowry Hills and Rocks And sweet Layes warbling to my Cynthias beames Out-sang the Cignets of Meanders streames To whom for Guerdon she Heavens secret bars Made open taught the Paths and Pow'rs of Stars By this deare Ladies strict commandement To celebrate this day I here am sent But whether is this heaven which stars do crown Or are heavens flaming splendors here come down To beautifie this nether World with me Such state and glory did e're Shepheard see My wits my sense mistrust and stay amaz'd No eye on fairer Objects ever gaz'd Sure this is Heaven for every wandring star Forsaking those great Orbes where whirlâ—d they are All dismall sad aspects abandoning Are here met to salute some gracious King Nor is it strange if they Heavens height neglect It of undoubted worth is the effect Then this it is thy presence royall Youth Hath brought them here within an Azymuth To tell by me their Herauld comming things And what each Fate to her sterne Distaâ—â—e sings Heavens Volume to unclaspe vast Pages spread Mysterious golden Cyphers cleare to read Heare then the Augur of thy future daies And what the starry Senate of thee saies For what is firme decreed in heaven above In vaine on earth strive Mortalls to improve Saturne TO faire hopes to give reines now is it time And soare as high as just desires may climbe O Halcyonian cleare and happy Day From sorry Wights let sorrow flie away And vexe Antartick Climes great Brittaines woes Vanish for joy now in her Zenith glows The old Lucadian Syth-bearing Sire Though cold for thee feeles flames of sweet desire And many lustres at a perfect height Shall keep thy Scepters Majesty as bright And strong in power and glory every way As when thy peerelesse Parent did it sway Ne're turning wrinkled in times endlesse length But one in her first beauty youthfull strength Like thy rare mind which stedfast as the Pole Still fixed stands however Spheares do role More to inhaunce with favours this thy Raigne His age of gold he shall restore againe Love Justice Honour Innocence renew Mens sprights with white simplicity indue Make all to live in plenties ceaselesse store With equall shares none wishing to have more No more shall cold the Plough-mens hopes beguile Skies shall on Earth with lovely glances smile Which shall untill'd each flow'r and herb bring forth And Lands to Gardens turne
of equall worth Life long shall not be thrall'd to mortall dates Thus heavens decree so have ordain'd the Fates Jove DElight of heaven sole honour of the earth Jove courting thine Ascendant at thy birth Proclaimed thee a King and made it true That to thy worth great Monarchies are due He gave thee what was good and what was great What did belong to love and what to state Rare gifts whose ardors burne the hearts of all Like tinder when flints atoms on it fall The Tramontane which thy faire course directs Thy Counsels shall approve by their effects Justice kept low by Giants wrongs and jars Thou shalt relieve and crown with glistering stars Whom nought save Law of force could keep in awe Thou shalt turne Clients to the force of Law Thou Armes shalt brandish for thine own defence Wrongs to repell and guard weake innocence Which to thy last effort thou shalt uphold As Oake the Ivy which it doth enfold All overcome at last thy selfe orecome Thou shalt make passion yield to reasons doome For smiles of fortune shall not raise thy mind Nor shall disasters make it ere declin'd True shonour shall reside within thy Court Sobriety and Truth there still resort Keep promis'd faith thou shalt all treacheries Detest and fawning Parasites despise Thou others to make rich shalt not make poore Thy selfe but give that thou mayst still give more Thou shalt no Paranymph raise to high Place For frizl'd locks quaint pace or painted face On gorgeous rayments womanizing toyes The works of wormes and what a Moth destroyes The Maze of fooles thou shalt no treasure spend Thy charge to immortality shall tend Raise Pallaces and Temples vaulted high Rivers o're arch of Hospitality And Sciences the ruin'd Innes restore With Walls and Ports incircle Neptunes shore To new-found worlds thy Fleets make hold their course And find of Canada the unknown Sourse People those Lands which passe Arabian fields In fragrant Woods and Muske which Zephire yeelds Thou fear'd of none shalt not thy People feare Thy Peoples love thy Greatnesse shall up-reare Still rigour shall not shine and mercy lower What Love can do thou shalt not do by Power New and vast Taxes thou shalt not extort Load heavy those thy bounty should support Thou shalt not strike the Hinge nor Master Beame Of thine Estate but errours in the same By harmelesse Justice graciously reforme Delighting more in calme than roaring storme Thou shalt governe in Peace as did thy Sire Keep save thine own and Kingdomes new acquire Beyond Alcides Pillars and those bounds Where Alexander gain'd the Easterne Crowns Till thou the greatest be amongst the Greats Thus Heavens ordaine so have decreed the Fates Mars SOn of the Lion thou of loathsome Bands Shalt free the Earth and what e're thee withstands Thy noble paws shall teare the God of Thrace Shall be thy second and before thy face To Truth and Justice whilest thou Trophees reares Armies shall fall dismaid with Panick feares As when Aurora in skies azure-lists Makes shadows vanish doth disperse the mists And in a twinkling with her opall light Nights horrours checketh putting stars to flight More to inflame thee to this noble taske To thee he here resigns his Sword and Caske A Wall of flying Castels armed Pines Shall bridge thy Sea like heaven with steele that shines To aide earths tenants by foule yoaks opprest And fill with feares the great King of the West To thee already Victory displaies Her garlands twin'd with Olive Oake and Bayes Thy triumphs finish shall all old debates Thus Heavens decree so have ordain'd the Fates Sun WEalth Wisdome Glory Pleasure stoutest hearts Religion Laws Hyperion imparts To thy just Raigne which shall far far surpasse Of Emperours Kings the best that ever was Look how he dims the stars thy Glories raies So darken shall the lustre of these daies For in faire Vertues Zodiack thou shalt run And in the Heaven of Worthies be the Sun No more contemn'd shall haplesse Learning lye The maids of Pindus shall be raised high For Bay and Ivy which their brows enroll'd Thou shalt them deck with Gems and shining gold Thou open shalt Parnassus Christall gates Thus Heavens ordaine so do decree the Fates Venus THe Acidalian Queen amidst thy Bayes Shall twine her Mirtles grant thee pleasant daies She did make cleare thy house and with her light Of churlish stars put back the dismall spight The Hymenean bed faire brood shall grace Which on the earth continue shall their race While Floras treasure shall the Meads endeare While sweet Pomona Rose-cheek'd fruits shall beare While Phaebes beames her brothers emulates Thus Heavens decree so have ordain'd the Fates Mercury GReat Atlas Nephew shall the works of Peace The Springs of plenty Tillage Trades encrease And Arts in times gulfes lost againe restore To their Perfection nay find many more More perfect Artists Cyclops in their forge Shall mould those brazen Typhons which disgorge From their hard Bowels metall flame and smoake Mufling the aire up in a sable cloake Geryons Harpyes Dragons Sphinges strange Wheele where in spacious gires the Fume doth range The Sea shrinkes at the blow shake doth the ground The Worlds vast Chambers doth the sound rebound The Stygian Porter leaveth off to barke Black Jove appall'd doth shroud him in the darke Many a Typhis in adventures tost By new-found skill shall many a maiden coast With thy sayle-winged Argoses find out Which like the Sun shall run the Earth about And far beyond his paths score wavy waies To Cathaies Lands by Hyperborean Seas He shall endue thee both in peace and war With wisdome which than Strength is better far Wealth Honour Armes and Arts shall grace thy States Thus Heavens ordaine so do decree the Fates The Moon O How the faire Queen with the golden maids The Sun of Night thy happy fortunes aids Though turban'd Princes for a Badge her weare To them she waine to thee would full appeare Her Hand-maid Thetis dayly walkes the round About thy Delos that no force it wound Than when thou leftst it and abroad didst stray Deare Pilgrim she did straw with flowers thy way And turning forraine force and counsell vaine Thy Guard and Guide return'd thee home againe To thee she Kingdomes Years Blisse did divine Quailing Medusas grim Snakes with her shine Beneath thy raigne Discord fell mischiefes forge The bane of Peoples State and Kingdome Scourge Pale Envy with the Cocatrices eye Which seeing kills but seen doth forthwith dye Malice Deceit Rebellion Impudence Beyond the Garamants shall pack them hence With every Monster that thy Glory hates Thus Heavens decree so have ordain'd the Fates Endymion THat heretofore to thy heroick mind Hopes did not answer as they were design'd O do not thinke it strange Times were not come And these faire stars had not pronounc'd their doome The Destinies did on that day attend When to this Northerne Region thou should lend Thy cheerfull presence and charg'd with Renown Set on thy brows the
Hopes Time may repaire When ruin'd Faith must finish in despaire III. Alas Ye look but up the Hill on me Which shews to you a faire and smooth ascent The Precipice behind ye cannot see On which high Fortunes are too pronely bent If there I slip what former joy or blisse Can heale the bruise of such a fall as this A Reply I. WHo love enjoyes and placed hath his Mind Where fairer Vertues fairest beauties grace Than in himselfe such store of worth doth find That he deserves to hold so good a Place To chilling feares how can he be set forth Whose feares condemne his own doubts others worth II. Desire as flames of Zeale Feare Horrours meets They rise who fall oâ— falling never prov'd Who is so dainty satiate with sweeâ—s To murmur when the Banket is remov'd The fairest hopes Time in the Bud destroys When sweet are memories of ruin'd Joyes III. It is no Hill but Heaven where you remaine And whom Desert advanced hath so high To reach the Guerdon of his burning Paine Must not repine to fall and falling dye His Hopes are crown'd what years of tedious breath Can them compare with such a happy Death W. D. A Translation AH silly Soule what wilt thou â—ay When he whom earth and Heavens obey Comes Man to judge in the last Day II. When He a reason askes why Grace And Goodnesse thou wouldst not embrace But steps of Vanity didst trace III. That Day of Terrour Vengeance Ire Now to prevent thou should'st desire And to thy God in haste retire IV. With watry Eyes and Sigh-swollen Heart O beg beg in his Love a part Whilst Conscience with remorse doth smart V. That dreaded Day of wrath and shame In flames shall turne this Worlds huge Frame As sacred Prophets do proclaime VI. O! with what Griefe shall Earthlings grone When that great Judge set on his Throne Examines strictly every One. VII Shrill-sounding Trumpets through the Aire Shall from dark Sepulchres each where Force wretched Mortalls to appeare VIII Nature and Death amaz'd remaine To find their dead arise againe And Processe with their Judge maintaine IX Display'd then open Books shall lye Which all those secret crimes descry For which the guilty World must dye X. The Judge enthron'd whom Bribes not gaine The closest crimes appeare shall plaine And none unpunished remaine XI O who then pitty shall poore me Or who miâ—e Advocate shall be When scarce the justest passe shall free XII All wholly holy dreadfull King Who freely life to thine dost bring Of Mercy save me Mercies spring XIII Then sweet Jesu call to mind How of thy Paines I was the End And favour let me that day find XIV In search of me Thou full of paine Did'st sweat bloud Death on Crosse sustaine Let not these suff'rages be in vaine XV. Thou supreame Judge most just and wise Purge me from guilt which on me lies Before that day of thine Assize XVI Charg'd with remorse loe here I groane Sin makes my face a blush take on Ah! spare me prostrate at thy Throne XVII Who Mary Magdalen didst spare And lend'st the Thiefe on Crosse thine Eare Shewest me faire hopes I should not feare XVIII My prayers imperfect are and weake But worthy of thy grace them make And save me from Hells burning Lake XIX On that great Day at thy right hand Grant I amongst thy Sheep may stand Sequestred from the Goatish Band. XX. When that the Reprobates are all To everlasting flames made thrall O to thy Chosen Lord me call XXI That I one of thy Company With those whom thou dost justifie May live blest in Eternity Vpon John Earle of Laderdale his Death OF those rare Worthies who adorn'd our North And shin'd like Constellations Thou alone Remaindst last great Maitland charg'd with worth Second in Vertues Theater to none But finding all eccentrick in our times Religion into superstition turn'd Justice silenc'd exiled or inurn'd Truth Faith and Charity reputed Crimes The young man destinate by sword to fall And Trophees of their Countries spoiles to reare Strange Laws the Ag'd and prudent to appale And forc'd sad yoakes of Tyranny to beare And for nor great nor vertues minds a roome Disdaining life thou shouldst into thy Tombe II. WHen misdevotion every where shall take place And lofty Oratours in thundring termes Shall move you people to arise in armes And Churches hallow'd policy deface When you shall but one generall sepulchre As Averroes did one generall Soule On high on low on good on bad confer And your dull Predecessors rites controule Ah spare this Monument great Guests it keeps Three grave Justiciars whom true worth did raise The Muses Darlings whose losse Phoebus weeps Best mens delight the glory of their daies More we would say but feare and stand in aw To turne Idolaters and break your Law III. DO not repine blest soule that humble wits Do make thy worth the matter of their Verse No high strain'd Muse our times and sorrows fits And we do sigh not sing to crown thy Hearse Thy wisest Prince e're manag'd Brittaines State Did not disdaine in numbers cleere and brave The vertues of thy Sire to celebrate And fix a rich memoriall on his Grave Thou didst deserve no lesse and here in Jet Gold Touch Brasse Porphyrie or Parian Stone That by a Princes hand no lines are set For thee the cause is now this Land hath none Such Giant Moods our parity forth brings We all will nothing be or all be Kings EPITAPHS TO The Obsequies of the blessed Prince JAMES King of Great Brittaine LEt holy David Solomon the Wise That King whose Breast Aegeria did inflame Augustus Helens Son Great in all Eyes Do Homage low to thy Mausolean Frame And bow before thy Laurels Anadem Let all those sacred Swans which to the Skies By never-dying Layes have rais'd their Name From North to South where Sun doth set and rise Religion Orphan'd waileth o're thy Urne Justice weeps out her Eyes now truly blind To Niobes the remnant Vertues turne Fame but to blaze thy Glories staies behind I' th' World which late was golden by thy Breath Is Iron turn'd and horrid by thy Death On the Death of a young Lady THis Beauty which pale Death in Dust did turne And clos'd so soon within a Coffin sad Did passe like Lightning like to Thunder burne So little Life so much of Worth it had Heavens but to shew their Might here made it shine And when admir'd then in the Worlds disdaine O Teares O Griefe did call it back againe Lest Earth should vaunt she kept what was Divine What can we hope for more what more enjoy Sith fairest things thus soonest have their End And as on Bodies shadows do attend Sith all our Blisse is follow'd with Annoy She is not dead she lives where she did love Her Memory on Earth her souâ—e above FOnd Wight who dream'st of Greatness Glory State And Worlds of Pleasures Honours dost devise Awake Learne how that here thou
art not Great Nor glorious By this Monument turne wise One it enshrineth sprung of ancient stemm And if that Bloud Nobility can make From which some Kings have not disdain'd to take Their proud Descent a rare and matchlesse Gemm A Beauty here it holds by full assurance Than which no blooming Rose was more refin'd Nor Mornings Blush more radiant ever shinâ—d Ah! too too like to Morne and Rose at last It holds her who in Wits ascendant far Did Yeares and Sex transcend To whom the Heaven More Vertue than to all this Age had given For Vertue Meteor turn'd when she a star Faire Mirth sweet Conversation Modesty And what those Kings of Numbers did conceive By Muses Nine and Graces moe than Three Lye clos'd within the Compasse of this Grave Thus Death all Earthly glories doth confound Loe how much Worth a little Dust doth bound FAr from these Bankes exiled be all Joyes Contentments Pleasures Musick cares reliefe Tears Sighs Plaints Horrours Frightments sad Annoies Invest these Mountaines fill all Hearts with Griefe Here Nightingals and Turtles vent your moanes Amphrisian Shepheard here come feed thy Flocke And read thy Hyacinth amidst our Groanes Plaine Eccho thy Narcissus from our Rocks Lost have our Meads their Beauty Hills their Gemms Our Brooks their Christall Groves their pleasant shade The fairest Flow'r of all our Anademms Death cropped hath the Lesbia chaste is dead Thus sigh'd the Tyne then shrunke beneath his Urne And Meads Brooks Rivers Hills about did mourne THe Flower of Virgins in her Prime of yeares By ruthlesse Destinies is ta'ne away And rap'd from Earth poore Earth before this Day Which ne're was rightly nam'd a Vale of Teares Beauty to Heaven is fled sweet Modesty No more appeares She whose harmonious sounds Did ravish Sense and charme Minds deepest wounds Embaulm'd with many a Teare now low doth lye Faire Hopes now vanish'd are She should have grac'd A Princes Marriage-Bed but loe in Heaven Blest Paramours to her were to be given She liv'd an Angell now is with them plac'd Vertue is but a Name abstractly trimm'd Interpreting what she was in effect A shaddow from her Frame which did reflect A Pourtrait by her Excellencies limm'd Thou whom free-will or chance hath hither brought And read'st Here lies a Branch of Maitlands stemm And Sâ—ytons Off-spring know that either Name Designes all worth yet reacht by humane Thought Tombes else-where use Life to their Guests to give These Ashes can fraile Monuments make live Another on the same subject LIke to the Gardens Eye the Flower of Flow'rs With purple Pompe that dazle doth the Sight Or as among the lesser Gems of Night The Usher of the Planet of the Houres Sweet Maid thou shinedst on this World of ours Of all Perfectiâ—ns having trac'd the hight Thine outward frame was faire faire inward Powers A Saphire Lanthorne and an incense light Hence the enamour'd Heaven as too too good On Earths all-thorny soyle long to abide Transplanted to their Fields so rare a Bud Where from thy Sun no cloud thee now can hide Earth moan'd her losse and wish'd she had the grace Not to have known or known thee longer space HArd Laws of mortall Life To which made Thrales we come without consent Like Tapers lighted to be early spent Our Griefes are alwaies rife When joyes but halting march and swiftly fly Like shadows in the Eye The shadow doth not yeeld unto the Sun But Joyes and Life do waste even when begun On the Death of a Nobleman in Scotland buried at Aithen AIthen thy Pearly Coronet let fall Clad in sad Robes upon thy Temples set The weeping Cypresse or the sable Jet Mourne this thy Nurslings losse a losse which all Apollos Quire bemoanes which many yeares Cannot repaire nor Influence of Spheares Ah! when shalt thou find Shepheard like to him Who made thy Bankes more famous by his worth Then all those Gems thy Rocks and Streams send forth His splendor others Glow-worm light did dim Sprung of an ancient and a vertuous Race He Vertue more than many did embrace He fram'd to mildnesse thy halfe-barbarous swaines The Good-mans Refuge of the bad the fright Unparaleld in friendship worlds Delight For Hospitality along thy Plaines Far-fam'd a Patron and a Patterne faire Of Piety the Muses chiefe repaire Most debonaire in Courtesie supreame Lov'd of the meane and honour'd by the Great Ne're dasht by Fortune nor cast down by Fate To present and to after Times a Theame Aithen thy Teares poure on this silent Grave And drop them in thy Alabaster cave And Niâ—bes Imagery become And when thou hast distilled here a Tombe Eâ—chace in it thy Pearls and let it beare Aithens best Gem and honour shrin'd lies here FAme Register of Time Write in thy Scrowle that I Of Wisdome Lover and sweet Poesie Was cropped in my Prime And ripe in worth though green in yeares did dye IUstice Truth Peace and Hospitality Friendship and Love being resolv'd to dye In these lewd Times have chosen here to have With just true pious their Grave Them cherish'd he so much so much did grace That they on Earth would choose none other Place WHen Death to deck his Trophees stop thy breath Rare Ornament and Glory of these Parts All with moist Eyes might say and ruthfull hearts That things immortall vassal'd were to Death What Good in Parts on many shar'd we see From Nature gracious Heaven or Fortune flow To make a Master-Piece of worth below Heaven Nature Fortune gave in grosse to Thee In Honour Bounty Rich in Valour Wit In Courtesie Borne of an ancient Race With Bayes in war with Olives crown'd in Peace Match'd great with Off-spring for great Actions fit No Rust of Times nor Change thy Vertue wan With Times to change when Truth Faith Love decay'd In this new Age like Fate thou fixed stay'd Of the first World an all-substantiall Man As earst this Kingdome given was to thy Syre The Prince his Daughter trusted to thy Care And well the credit of a Gem so rare Thy loyalty and merit did require Yeares cannot wrong thy Worth that now appeares By others set as Diamonds among Pearles A Queens deare Foster Father to three Earles Enough on Earth to triumph are o're yeares Life a Sea-voyage is Death is the Haven And fraught with honour there thou hast arriv'd Which Thousands seeking have on Rocks been driven That Good adornes thy Grave which with thee liv'd For a fraile Life which here thou didst enjoy Thou now a lasting hast â—reed of Annoy WIthin the Closure of thiâ— Narrow Grave Lye all those Graces a Good-wife could have But on this Marble they shall not be read For then the Living envy would the Dead THe Daughter of a King of Princely Parts In Beauty eminent in Vertues chiefe Loadstar of Love and Loadstone of all hearts Her Friends and Husbands only Joy now Griefe Is here pent up within a Marble Frame Whose Paralell no Times no Climates claime VErses fraile Records are to keep a Name Or raise from Dust Men to a Life of Fame The sport and spoyle of Ignorance but far More fraile the Frames of Touch and Marble are Which envy Avarice Time e're long confound Or mis-devotion equalls with the Ground Vertue alone doth last frees man from Death And though despis'd and scorned here beneath Stands grav'n in Angels Diamantine Roles And blazed in the Courts above the Poles Thou wast faire Vertues Temple they did dwell And live ador'd in thee nought did excell But what thou either didst possesse or love The Oraces Darling and the maids of Jove Courted by Fame for Bounties which the Heaven Gave thee in great which if in Parcels given Too many such we happy sure might call How happy then wast thou who enjoyedst them all A whiter Soule ne're body did invest And now sequestred cannot be but blest Inroâ—â—'d in Glory ' midst those Hierarchies Of that immortall People of the Skies Bright Saints and Angels there from cares made free Nought doth becloud thy soveraign Good from Thee Thou smil'st at Earths Confusions and Jars And how for Centaures Children we wage wars Like honey Flies whose rage whole swarmes consumes Till Dâ—st thrown on them makes them vaile their plumes Thy friends to thee a Monument would raise And â—imne thy Vertues but dull griefe thy Praise Breakes in the Entrance and our Taske proves vaine What duty writes that woe blotâ— out againe Yet Love a Pyramid of Sighs thee reares And doth embaulme thee with Fare-wells and Teares Rose THough Marble Porphyry and mourning Touch May praise these spoiles yet can they not too much For Beauty last and this Stone doth close Once Earths Delight Heavens care a purest Rose And Reader shouldst thou but let fall a Teare Upon it other flow'rs shall here appeare Sad Violets and Hyacinths which grow With markes of griefe a publike losse to show II. Relenting Eye which dâ—ignest to this Stone To lend a look behold here he laid one The Living and the Dead interr'd for Dead The Turtle in its Mate is and she fled From Earth her choos'd this Place of Griefe To bound Thoughts a small and sad Reliefe His is this Monument for hers no Art Could frame a Pyramide rais'd of his Heart III. Instead of Epitaphs and airy praise This Monument a Lady chaste did raise To her Lords living fame and after Death Her Body doth unto this Place bequeath To rest with his till Gods shrill Trumpet sound Though time her Life no time her loâ—â— could bound To Sir W. A. THough I have twice been at the Doores of Death And twice found shut those Gates which ever mourn This but a Lightning is Truce ta'ne to Breath For late borne sorrows augure fleet return Amidst thy sacred Cares and Courtly Toyles Alexis when thou shalt heare wandring Fame Tell Death hath triumph'd o're my mortall Spoyles And that on Earth I am but a sad Name If thou e're held me deare by all our Love By all that Blisse those Joyes Heaven here us gave I conjure thee and by the Maids of Jove To grave this short remembrance on my Grave Here Damon lies whose Songs did sometime grace The murmuring Esk may Roses shade the place FINIS
never want Delight even when I grone Best companied when most I am alone A Heaven of Hopes I have midst Hells of Feares Thus every way Contentment strange I find But most in Her rare Beauty my rare Mind SON VAunt not fair Heavens of your two glorious Lights Which though â—ost bright yet see not when they shine And shining cannot show their Beames divine Both in one Place but part by Daies and Nights Earth vaunt not of those Treasures ye enshrine Held only deare because hid from our Sights Your pure and burnish'd Gold your Diamonds fine Snow-passing Ivory that the Eye delights Nor Seas of those deare Wares are in you found Vaunt not rich Pearle red Corrall which do stir A fond desire in Fooles to plunge your Ground These all more faire are to be had in Her Pearle Ivory Corrall Diamond Suns Gold Teeth Neck Lips Heart Eyes Haire are to behold SON WHen Nature now had wonderfully wrought All Auristellas Parts except her Eyes To make those Twins two Lamps in Beauties Skies She Counsell of her Starry Seâ—aâ—e sought Mars and Apollo first did her advise To wrap in Colour Black those Comets bright Thâ—t Love him so might soberly disguise And unperceived Wound at every Sight Chaste Phoebe spake for purest azure dies But Jove and Venus green about the Light To frame thought best as bringing most Delight That to pin'd Hearts Hope might for aye arise Nature all said a Paradise of green There plac'd to make all love which have them seen SON NOw while the Night her â—able Vaile hath spred And silently her resty Coach doth rolle Rowsing with Her from Tethis azure Bed Those starry Nymphs which dance about the Pole While Cynthia in purest Cipres cled The Laâ—mian Shepheard in a â—rance descries And looking pale from height of all the Skies She dies her Beauties in a blushing Red While Sleep in Triumph closed hath all Eyes And Birds and Beasts a Silence sweet do keep And Proteus monstrous People in the Deep The Winds and Waves husht up to rest entise I wake I turne I weep opprest with Paine Perplex'd in the Meanders of my Braine SON SLeep Silence Child sweet Father of soft Rest Prince whose Approach Peace to all Mortals brings Indifferent Host to Shepheards and to Kings Sole Comforter of Minds which are opprest Loe by thy Charming Rod all breathing Things Lie slumbring with Forgetfulnesse possest And yet o're me to spread thy drowsie Wings Thou spar'st alas who cannot be thy Guest Since I am thine O come but with that Face To inward Light which thou art wont to shew With fained Solace ease a true felt Woe Or if deafe God thou do deny that Grace Come as thou wilt and what thou wilt bequeath I long to kisse the Image of my Death SON FAire Moone who with thy cold and silver Shine Makes sweet the Horror of the dreadfull Night Delighting the weake Eye with smiles divine Which Phoebus dazels with his too much Light Bright Queen of the first Heaven if in thy Shrine By turning oft and Heavens eternall Might Thou hast not yet that once sweet Fire of thine Endemion forgot and Lovers Plight If Cause like thine may Pity breed in thee And Pity somewhat else to it obtaine Since thou hast Power of Dreames as well as He That holds the golden Rod and Morall Chaine Now while She sleeps in dolefull Guise her Show These Teares and the black Map of all my Woe SON LAmpe of Heavens Christall Hall that brings the Houres Eye-dazeler who makes the ugly Night At thy Approach flie to her slumbry Bowres And fills the World with Wonder and Delight Life of all lives Death-giver by thy flight To the south Pole from these sixe Signes of ours Gold-smith of all the Stars with Silver bright Who Moone enamells Apelles of the Flowers Ah from those watry Plaines thy golden Head Raise up and bring the so long lingring Morne A Grave nay Hell I find become this Bed This Bed so grievously where I am torne But woe is me though thou now brought the Day Day shall but serve moe Sorrows to display SONG IT was the time when to our Northerne Pole The brightest Lampe of Heaven begins to rolle When Earth more wanton in new Robes appeareth And scorning Skies her Flowres in Rain-bows beareth On which the Aire moist Diamonds doth bequeath Which quake to feele the kissing Zephires breath When Birds from shady Groves their Love forth warble And Sea-like Heaven Heaven looks like smoothest Marble When I in simple course free from all Cares Far from the muddy Worlds inslaving snares By Oras flowry Bankes alone did wander Ora that sports her like to old Meander A Floud more worthy Fame and lasting praise Then that so high which Phaëtons fall did raise By whose pure moving Glasse the Milke-white Lillies Do dresse their tresses and the Daffadâ—llies Where Ora with a Wood is crown'd about And seems forgets the way how to come out A place there is where a delicious Fountaine Springs frâ—m the swelling brest of a proud Mountaine Whose falling Streames the quiet Cavernes wound And make the Echoes shrill resound that sound The Laurâ—ll there the shing Channell graces The Palm hâ—r Love with long-stretch'd Arms embraces The Poplar spreads her Branches to the Skie And hides from sight that azure Canopy The Streams the Trees the Trees their leaves still nourish That Place grave Winter finds â—ot without flourish If living Eyes Elysian fields could see This little Arden might Elysium be Oft did Diana there her selfe repose And Maâ—s the Acidaliaâ— Queen enclose The Nymphs oft here their baskets bring with Flow'rs And Anadems weave for their Paramours The Satyres in those shades are heard to languish And make the Shepheards partners of their anguish The Shepheards who in Barkes of tender Trees Do grave their Loves Disdaines and Jealousies Which Phillis when there by Her Flocks she feedeth With Pitty now anon with laughter readeth Neare to this place when Sun in midst of Day In highest top of Heaven his Coach did stay And as advising on his Career glanced As all along that morne he had advanced His panting Steeds along those Fields of light Most princely looking from that glorious height When most the Grashoppers are heard in Meadows And loftiest Pines or small or have no shadows It was my hap O wofull hap to bide Where thickest shades me from all Raies did hide In a faire Arbor 't was some Sylvans Chamber Whose Seeling spred was with the Locks of Amber Of new bloom'd Sicamors Floore wrought with Flow'rs More sweet and rich than those in Princes Bow'rs Here Adon blush't and Clitia all amazed Lookt pale with Him who in the Fountaine gazed The Amaranthus smyl'd and that sweet Boy Which sometime was the God of Delos joy The brave Carnation speckled Pinke here shined The Uiolet her fainting Head declined Beneath a sleepy Chasbow all of Gold The Marigold her leaves did here unfold Now while that ravish'd with delight
you beare a weeping Part All Night at day but you must do the same Cease idle Sighs to spend your Stormes in vaine And these sweet silent thickets to molest Containe you in the Prison of my Brest You do not ease but aggravate my Paine Or if burst forth you must that Tempest move In sight of her whom I so dearely love SON YOu restlesse Seas appease your roaring Waves And you who raise huge Mountaines in that Plaine Aires Trumpeters your hideous sounds containe And listen to the plaints my griefe doth cause Eternall Lights though adamantine Laws Of Destinies to move still you ordaine Turne hither all your Eyes your Axels pause And wonder at the Torments I sustaine â—ad Earth if thou made dull by my disgrace Be not as senselesse aske those Powers above Why they so crost a Wretch brought on thy Face Fram'd for mishap th' Anachorit of Love And bid them that no more Etnaes may burne To Erimanth ' or Rhodâ—pe me turne SON IF crost with all mishaps be my poore Life If one short day I never spent in mirth If my Sp'rit with it selfe holds lasting strife If sorrows death is but new sorrows birth If this vaine World be but a mournfull Stage Where slave-borne Man plaies to the laughing Stars If Youth be toss'd with Love with Weaknesse Age If Knowledge serves to hold our Thoughts in Wars If Time can close the hundred Mouths of Fame And make what 's long since past like that 's to be If Vertue only be an Idle Name If being borne I was but borne to dye Why seek I to prolong these loathsome daies The fairest Rose in shortest time decaies SON ALl other Beauties howsoe're they shine In Haires more bright than is the golden Ore Or cheeks more faire than fairest Eglantine Or hands like hers that comes the Sun before Match'd with that Heavenly Hew and shape divine With those deare Stars which my weak thoughts adore Look but as shaddows or if they be more It is in this that they are like to thine Who sees those Eyes their force that doth not prove Who gazeth on the dimple of that chin And finds not Venus Son entrench'd therein Or hath not sence or knows not what is Love To see thee had Narcissus had the grace He would have died with wondring on thy Face SEXTAIN THe Heaven doth not containe so many Stars Nor levell'd lye so many leaves in Woods When Autumne and cold Boreas sound their Wars So many Waves have not the Ocean Floods As my torn Mind hath torments all the Night And Heart spends Sighs when Phoebus brings the Light Why was I made a Partner of the Light Who crost in birth by bad aspect of Stars Have never since had happy Day nor Night Why was not I a liver in the Woods Or Citizen of Thetis christall Floods But fram'd a Man for Love and Fortunes Wars I look each Day when Death should end the Wars Vncivill Wars 'twixt Sense and Reasons Light My Paines I count to Mountaines Meads and Floods And of my sorrow Partners make the Stars All Desolate I haunt the fearfull Woods When I should give my selfe to rest at Night With watchfull Eyes I ne'r behold the Night Mother of Peace but ah to me of Wars And Cynthia Queen-like shining through the Woods But straight those Lamps come in my thought whose Light My Judgement dazel'd passing brightest Stars And then my Eyes in-isle themselves with Floods Turne to their Springs againe first shall the Floods Cleare shall the Sun the sad and gloomy Night To dance about the Pole cease shall the Stars The Elements renew their ancient Wars Shall first and be depriv'd of Place and Light Ere I find rest in City Fields or Woods End these my daies you Inmates of the Woods Take this my Life ye deep and raging Flouds Sun never rise to cleare me with thy Light Horror and Darknesse keep a lasting Night Consume me Care with thy intestine Wars And stay your Influence o're me bright Stars In vaine the Stars th' Inhabitants o' th' Woods Care Horror Wars I call and raging Floods For all have sworne no Night shall dim my Sight SON O Sacred Blush enpurpling Cheekes pure skies With crimson Wings which spred thee like the Morne O bashfull look sent from those shining eyes Which though slid down on Earth doth Heaven adorne O Tongue in which most lushious Nectar lies That can at once both blesse and make forlorne Deare corrall Lip which Beauty beautifies That trembling stood before her words were borne And you her Words Words no but golden Chaines Which did inslave my eares ensnare my soule Wise Image of her Mind Mind that containes A power all Power of Senses for to controule So sweetly you from Love disswade do me That I love more if more my Love can be SON SOund hoarse sad Lute true witnesse of my woe And strive no more to ease selfe chosen paine With soule-enchanting sounds your accents straine Unto these teares incessantly which flow Sad Treeble weep and you dull Basses show Your Masters sorrow in a dolefull straine Let never joyfull Hand upon you go Nor Consort keep but when you do complaine Flie Phoebus Raies abhor the irkesome Light Woods solitary shades for thee are best Or the black horrours of the blackest Night When all the World save Thou and I do rest Then sound sad Lute and beare a mourning part Thou Hell canst move though not a Womans Heart SON IN vaine I haunt the cold and Silver Springs To quench the Fever burning in my veines In vaine Loves pilgrim Mountaines Daâ—es and Plains I over-run vaine help long absence brings In vain my Friends your Counsell me constraines To fly and place my Thoughts on other things Ah like the Bird that fired hath her Wings The more I move the greater are my paines Desire alas Desire a Zeuxis new From th' Orient borrowing Gold from Westerne skies Heavenly Cinabre sets before my Eyes In every place her Haire sweet look and Hue That flie run rest I all doth prove but vaine My life lies in those Eyes which have me slaine SON SLide soft faire Forth and make a Christall Plaine Cut your white Locks and on your foamy Face Let not a wrinkle be when you embrace The Boat that Earths Perfections doth containe Winds wonder and through wondring hold your pace Or if that ye your hearts cannot restraine From sending sighs feeling a Lovers Case Sigh and in her faire haire your selves enchaine Or take these sighs which absence makes arise From my oppressed brest and fill the sailes Or some sweet breath new brought from Paradise The flouds do smile Love o're the winds prevailes And yet huge Waves arise the cause is this The Ocean strives with Forth the Boat to kisse SON TRust not sweet soule those curled waves of Gold With gentle Tides that on your Temples flow Nor Temples spred with Flakes of Virgin snow Nor snow of Cheeks with Tyrian graine enrold Trust not those
the new-borne Phoenix spreads her Wings And troupes of wondring Birds her flight adore Place me by Gange or Indes enammell'd shore Where smiling Heavens on Earth cause double Springs Place me where Neptunes Quire of Syrens sings Or where made hoarse through Cold he leaves to roare Place me where Fortune doth her Darlings crown A Wonder or a sparke in Envies Eye Or you outragious Fates upon me frown Till Pitty wailing fee disastred Me Affections print my mind so deep doth prove I may forget my Selfe but not my Love MADRIGALL THe Ivory Corrall Gold Of brest of lip of haire So lively Sleep doth show to inward sight That wake I thinke I hold No Shadow but my Faire My selfe so to deceive With long-shut Eyes I shun the irkesome Light Such pleasure here I have Delighting in false gleames If Death Sleeps Brother be And Soules bereft of sense have so sweet Dreames How could I wish thus still to dreame and dye SON FAme who with golden wings abroad doth range Where Phoebus leaves the Night or brings the Day Fame in one place who restlesse dost not stay Till thou hast flown from Atlas unto Gange Fame Enemy to Time that still doth change And in his changing Course would make decay What here below he findeth in his way Even making Vertue to her selfe look strange Daughter of Heaven Now all thy Trumpets sound Raise up thy Head unto the highest Skie With wonder blaze the gifts in her are found And when she from this mortall Globe shall flie In thy wide Mouth keep long keep long her Name So thou by her she by thee live shall Fame POEMS The Second Part. OF mortall Glory O soone dark'ned Ray O winged Joyes of Man more swift than Wind O fond Desires which in our Fancies stray O traitrous Hopes which do our Judgements blind Loe in a Flash that Light is gone away Which dazell did each Eye delight each Mind And with that Sun from whence it came combind Now makes more radiant Heavens eternall Day Let Beauty now bedew her Cheeks with Teares Let widow'd Musick only roare and groane Poore Vertue get thee Wings and mount the Spheares For dwelling place on Earth for thee is none Death hath thy Temple raz'd Loves Empire foil'd The World of Honour Worth and Sweetnes spoil'd SON THose Eyes those sparkling Saphires of Delight Which thousand thousand Hearts did set on Fire Of which that Eye of Heaven which brings the light Oft Jealous stayed amaz'd them to admire That living Snow those crimson Roses bright Those Pearles those Rubies which enflam'd Desire Those Locks of Gold that Purple faire of Tyre Are wrapt aye me up in eternall Night What hast thou more to vaunt of wretched World Sith she who caused all thy blisse is gone Thy ever-burning Lamps Rounds ever-whorld Can not unto thee modell such a One Or if they would such Beauty bring on Earth They should be forc'd againe to give her birth SON O Fate conjur'd to poure your worst on me O rigorous Rigour which doth all confound With cruell Hands ye have cut down the Tree And fruit with leaves have scattered on the Ground A little space of Earth my Love doth bound That Beauty which did raise it to the Skie Turn'd in disdained Dust now low doth lye Deafe to my plaints and senselesse of my wound Ah! did I live for this ah did I love And was 't for this fierce powers she did excell That ere she well the Sweets of life did prove She should too deare a guest with Darknesse dwell Weake influence of Heaven what faire is wrought Falls in the prime and passeth like a Thought SON O Wofull life life no but living Death Fraile Boat of Christall in a rocky Sea A Gem expos'd to Fortunes stormy breath Which kept with paine with Terrour doth decay The false Delights true Woes thou dost bequeath My all-appalled Mind so do affray That I those envy who are laid in Earth And pity those who run thy dreadfull way When did mine Eyes behold one chearefull Morne When had my tossed Soule one night of Rest When did not angry Stars my Designes scorne O! now I find what is for Mortalls best Even since our voyage shamefull is and short Soone to strike Saile and perish in the Port. SON DIssolve my Eyes your Globes in briny Streames And with a cloud of Sorrow dim your sight The Suns bright Sun is set of late whose Beames Gave lustre to your Day Day to your Night My Voice now cleave the Earth with Anathemes Roare forth a challenge in the Worlds despight Till that disguised Griefe is her delight That Life a Slumber is of fearefull Dreames And woefull Mind abhor to thinke of Joy My Senses all from comforts all you hide Accept no object but of black Annoy Teares Plaints Sighs mourning Weeds Graves gaping wide I have nought left to wish My Hopes are dead And all with her beneath a Marble laid SON SWeet Soule which in the Aprill of thy yeares For to enrich the Heaven mad'st poore this Round And now with flaming Rayes of Glory crown'd Most blest abides above the Spheare of Spheares If Heavenly Laws alas have not thee bound From looking to this Globe that all up-beares If ruth and pity there-above be found O daigne to lend a look unto these Teares Do not disdaine deare Ghost this sacrifice And though I raise not pillars to thy Praise My off'rings take let this for me suffice My Heart a living Pyramide I 'll raise And whilst Kings Tombs with Laurells flourish green Thine shall with Mirtles and these flow'rs be seen SON SWeet Spring thou turn'st with all thy goodly traine Thy head with flames thy Mantle bright with flow'rs The Zephires curle the green Locks of the Plaine The Clouds for joy in Pearls weep down their show'rs Dost returne sweet Youth but ah my pleasant houres And happy daies with thee come not againe The sad Memorials only of my paine Do with thee turne which turne my Sweets to Sow'râ— Thou art the same which still thou wert before Delicious lusty amiable faire But she whose Breath embaulm'd thy wholesome Aire Is gone Nor Gold nor Gems can her restore Neglected Vertue Seasons go and come When thine forgot lie closed in a Tombe SON WHat doth it serve to see the Suns bright Face And Skies enamell'd with the Indian Gold Or the Moone in a fierce Chariot rold And all the Glory of that starry Place What doth it serve Earths Beauty to behold The Mountaines pride the Meadows flowry grace The stately comlinesse of Forrests old The Sport of Flouds which would themselves embrace What doth it serve to heare the Sylvans Songs The cheerefull Thrush the Nightingales sad straines Which in darke shades seems to deplore my Wrongs For what doth serve all that this World containes Since she for whom those once to me were deare Can have no part of them now with me here MAD. THis Life which seems so faire Is like a Bubble blown up
in the Aire By sporting childrens Breath Who chase it every where And strive who can most motion it bequeath And though it sometime seem of its own might Like to an Eye of gold to be fix'd there And firme to hover in that empty height That only is because it is so Light But in that Pompe it doth not long appeare For when 't is most admired in a thought Because it earst was nought it turnes to nought SON MY Lute be as thou wert when thou did grow With thy green Mother in some shady Grove When immelodious Winds but made thee move And Birds their ramage did on thee bestow Since that deare voice which did thy sounds approve Which wont in such harmonious Straines to â—low Is reâ—t from Earth to tune those spheares above What art thou but a Harbinger of woe Thy pleasing Notes he pleasing Notes no more But Orphans wailings to the fainting Eare Each Stroke a sigh each Sound draws forth a Teare For which be silent as in woods before Or if that any hand to touch thee daigne Like widow'd Turtle still her losse complaine SON AH Handkercher sad present of my Deare Gift miserable which doth now remaine The only Guerdon of my helplesse Paine When I thee got thou shewst my state too cleare I never since have ceased to complaine I since the Badge of Griefe did ever weare Joy in my Face durst never since appeare Care was the Food which did me entertaine But since that thou art mine O do not grieve That I this Tribute pay thee for mine Eine And that I this short Time I am to live Laundre thy silken Figures in this Brine No I must yet even beg of thee the Grace That in my Grave thou daigne to shroud my Face MAD. TRees happier far than I Which have the grace to heave your Heads so high And over-look those Plaines Grow till your Branches kisse that lofty Skie Which her sweet selfe containes There make her know mine endlesse Love and Paines And how these Teares which from mine Eyes do fall Helpt you to rise so Tall Tell her as once I for her sake lov'd Breath So for her sake I now court lingring Death SONG SAd Damon being come To that for-ever Lamentable Tombe Which those eternall Powers that all controule Unto his living Soule A melancholy prison had prescrib'd Of Colour Heat and motion depriv'd In Armes weake Fainting Cold A Marble he the Marble did infold And having warme it made with many a showre Which dimmed Eyes did poure When Griefe had given him leave and sighs them staied Thus with a sad alas at last he said Who would have thought to me The place where thou did'st lie could grievous be And that deare body long thee having sought O me who would have thought Thee once to find it should my Soule confound And give my Heart then death a deeper wound Thou did'st disdaine my Teares But grieve not that this ruthfull Stone them beares Mine Eyes for nothing serve but thee to weep And let that course them keep Although thou never wouldst them comfort show Do not repine they have part of thy woe Ah wretch too late I find How Vertues glorious Titles prove but wind For if that Vertue could release from Death Thou yet enjoy'd hadst Breath For if she ere appear'd to mortall Eine It was in thy faire shape that she was seen But O! if I was made For thee with thee why too am I not dead Why do outragious Fates which dimm'd thy sight Let me see hatefull light They without me made Death thee surprise Tyrants no doubt that they might kill me twice O Griefe And could one Day Have force such excellence to take away Could a swift-flying Moment ah deface Those matchlesse gifts that Grace Which Art and Nature had in thee combin'd To make thy Body paragon thy Mind Hath all pass'd like a cloud And doth eternall silence now them shroud Is that so much admir'd now nought but Dust Of which a Stone hath Trust O change O cruell change thou to our sight Show'st the Fates Rigour equall to their Might When thou from earth diâ—'st passe Sweet Nymph Perfections Mirrour broken was And this of late so glorious World of ours Lâ—ke Medows without Flowers Or Ring of a rich Gem which blind appear d Or Starless night or Cynthia nothing clear'd Love when he saw thee dye Entomb'd him in the lid of either Eye And left his Torch within thy sacred Vrne There for a Lampe to burne Worth Honour Pleasure with thy life expir'd Death since grown sweet begins to be desir'd Whilst thou to us wert given The Earth her Venus had as well as Heaven Nay and her Suns which burnt as many Hearts As he the easterne parts Bright Suns which forc'd to leave these Hemispheares Benighted set into a Sea of Teares Ah Death who shall thee flie Since the most mighty are o'rethrown by thee Thou spar'st the Crow and Nightingall dost kill And triumphst at thy will But give thou cannot such another Blow Because Earth cannot such another show O bitter sweets of Love How better is 't at all you not to prove Nor when we do your pleasures must possesse To find them thus made lesse O! That the cause which doth consume our joy Would the remembrance of it too destroy What doth this life bestow But Flow'rs on Thornes which grow Which though they sometime blandish soft delight Yet afterwards us smite And if the rising Sun them faire doth see That Planet setting doth behold them die This world is made a Hell Depriv'd of all that in it did excell O Pan Pan Winter is fallen in May Turn'd is to night our Day Forsake thy Pipe a Scepter take to thee Thy locks disgarland thou black Jove shall be The Flocks do leave the Meads And loathing three leav'd Grasse hold up their Heads The Streames not glide now with a glentle Rore Nor Birds sing as before Hills stands with clouds like Mourners vail'd in black And Owles upon our Roofes foretell our wrack That Zephire every yeare So soone was heard to sigh in Forrests here It was for her that wrapt in Gowns of Greene Meads were so earely seen That in the saddest Months oft sang the Mearles It was for Her for her Trees dropt forth pearles That proud and stately Courts Did envy these our Shades and calme Resorts It was for Her and she is gone O woe Woods cut againe do grow But doth the Rose and Dazy winter done But we once dead do no more see the Sun Whose Name shall now make ring The Ecchoes of whom shall the Nymphets sing Whose heavenly voice whose Soule-invading Straines Shall fill with Joy the plaines What Haire what Eyes can make the Morne in East Weep that a fairer riseth in the West Faire Sun post still away No Musicke here is left thy Course to stay Sweet Hybla Swarmes with Wormewood fill your Bow'râ— Gone is the flower of Flow'rs Blush no more Rose nor Lilly
â—râ—e whatever foggy Mists Do blind men in these sublunary Lists But what if she for whom thou spâ—nd'st those Groanes And wastes thy Lifes deare Torch in ruthfull Moanes She for whose sake thou hat'st the joyfull Light Courts solitary Shades and irkesome Night Doth live ah if thou canst through Teares a space Lift thy dimm'd Lights and look upon this Face Look if those Eyes which foole thou didst adore Shine not more bright than they were wont before Looke if those Roses Death could ought impaire Those Roses which thou once saidst were so faire And if these Locks have lost ought of that Golâ— Which once they had when thou them didst behold I live and happy live but thou art dead And still shalt be tâ—ll tâ—ou be lâ—ke me maâ—e Alas while we are wrapt in Gowns of Earth And blind here suck the Aire of Woe beneath Each thing in Senses Ballances we weigh And but with toyle and Paine the truth descry Above this vast and admirable Frame This Temple visible which World we name Within whose Walls so many Lamps do burne So many Arches with crosse motions turne Where the Elementall Brothers nurse their strife And by intestine Wars maintain their Life There is a World a World of perfect Blisse Pure immateriall as brighter far from this As that high Circle which the rest enspheares Is from this dull ignoble Vale of Teares A World where all is found that here is found But further discrepant than Heaven and Ground It hath an Earth as hath this World of yours With Creatures peopled and adorn'd with Flowr's It hath a Sea like Saphire Girdle cast Which decks of the harmonious Shores the Waste It hath pure Fire it hath delicious Aire Moone Sun and Stars Heavens wonderfully faire Flow'rs never there do fade Trees grow not old No Creature dieth there through heat or cold Sea there not tossed is nor Aire made blacke Fâ—re doth not greedy feed on others Wrack There Heavens be not constrain'd about to range For this World hath no need of any Change Minutes mount not to Houres nor Houres to Daies Daies make no Months but ever-blooming Maies Here I remaine and hitherward do tend All who their Span of Daies in Vertue spend What ever Pleasant this low Place containes Is but a Glance of what above remaines Those who perchance there can nothing be Beyond this wide Expansion which they see And that nought else mounts Stars Circumference For that nought else is subject to their sense Feele such a Case as one whom some Abisme In the deep Ocean kept had all his Time Who borne and nourish'd there cannot believe That elsewhere ought without those waves can live Cannot beleeve that there be Temples Tow'rs Which go beyond his Caves and dampish Bowr's Or there be other People Manners Laws Than what he finds within the churlish Waves That sweeter Flow'rs do spring than grow on Rocks Or Beasts there are excell the skaly Flocks That other Elements are to be found Than is the Water and this Ball of Ground But thinke that man from this Abisme being brought Did see what curious Nature here hath wrought Did view the Meads the tall and shady Woods And mark'd the hills and the cleare rowling flouds And all the Beasts which Nature forth doth bring The feathered Troupes that flie and sweetly sing Observ'd the Palaces and Cities faire Mens Fashion of Life the Fire the Aire The brightnesse of the Sun that dims his Sight The Moone and splendors of the painted Night What sudden rapture would his mind surprise How would he his late-deare Resort despise How would he muse how foolish he had been To thinke all nothing but what there was seen Why do we get this high and vast Desire Unto immortall things still to aspire Why doth our Mind extend it beyond Time And to that highest happinesse even clime For we are more than what to Sense we seeme And more than Dust us Worldlings do esteeme We be not made for Earth though here we come More than the Emâ—ryon for the Mothers Wombe It weeps to be made free and we complaine To leave this loathsome Jaile of Care and Paine But thou who vulgar foot-steps dost not trace Learne to rowse up thy mind to view this place And what Earth-creeping Mortals most affect If not at all to scorne yet not to neglect Seek not vaine shadows which when once obtain'd Are better los'd than with such travell gain'd Thinke that on Earth what worldlings Greatnesse call Is but a glorious title to live thrall That Scepters Diadems and Chaires of State Not in themselves but to small Minds are great That those who loftiest mount do hardest light And deepest Falls be from the highest Height That Fame an Eccho is and all Renown Like to a blasted Rose ere Night falls down And though it something were thinke how this Round Is but a little Point which doth it bound O leave that Love which reacheth but to Dust And in that Love Eternall only trust And Beauty which when once it is possest Can only fill the Soule and make it blest Pale Envy jealous Emulations Feares Sighs Plaints Remorse here have no place nor Teares False Joyes vaine Hopes here be not Hate nor Wrath What ends all Love here most augments it Death If such force had the dim Glance of an Eye Which but some few daies afterwards did die That it could make thee leave all other things And like a Taper-fly there burne thy Wings And if a voice of late which could but waile Such Power had as through Eares thy Soule to steale If once thou on that poorely Faire couldst gaze What Flames of Love would this within thee raise In what amusing Maze would it thee bring To â—eare but once that Quire celestiall sing The fairest shapes on which thy Love did sease Which earst didst breed Delight then would displease But Discords hoarse were Earths entising Sounds All Musick but a Noise which Sense confounds This great and burning Glasse which cleares all Eyes And musters with such Glory in the Skies That silver Star which with her purer Light Makes Day oft-Envy the eye pleasing Night Those golden letters which so brightly shine In Heavens great Volume gorgeously divine All wonders in the Sea the Earth the Aire Be but darke Pictures of that Soveraigne Faire And Tongues which still thus cry into your Eare Could ye amidst Worlds Cataracts them heare From fading things fond Men lift your Desire And in our Beauty his us made admire If we seeme faire O thinke how faire is he Of whose great Fairenesse Shadows Steps we be No Shadow can compare unto the Face No Step with that deare foot which did it trace Your Soules immortall are then place them hence And do not drown them in the Mist of Sense Do not O do not by false Pleasures Might Deprive them of that true and sole Delight That Happinesse ye seek is not below Earths sweetest Joy is but disguised Woe Here
did she pause and with a mild Aspect Did towards me those lamping Twins direct The wonted Raies I knew and thrice essay'd To Answer make thrice faulâ—ring Tongue it stay'd And while upon that Face I fed my Sight Me thought she vanisht up to Titans Light Who guilding with his Rayes each Hill and Plaine Seem'd to have brought the Golden World againe URANIA TRiumphing Chariots Statues Crowns of Bayes Skie-threatning Arches the rewards of worth Books heavenly-wise in sweet harmonious layes Which men divine unto the World set forth States which Ambitious Minds in bloud do raise From frozen Tanais unto sun-burnt Gange Gigantall Frames held wonders rarely strange Like Spiders webs are made the sport of Daies Nothing is constant but in constant change What 's done still is undone and when undone Into some other Fashion doth it range Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone Wherefore my Mind above Time Motion Place Rise up and steps unknown to Nature trace TOo long I followed have my fond Desire And too long painted on the Ocean Streames Too long refreshment sought amidst the fire Pursu'd those joyes which to my Soule are Blames Ah when I had what most I did admire And seen of Lifes Delights the last extreames I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer A Nought a Thought a Mascarade of Dreames Henceforth on Thee my only Good I 'll thinke For only thou canst grant what I do crave Thy Naile my Pen shall be thy Bloud mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Grave And till my Soule forth of this body flie No Hope I 'll have but only only thee TO spread the Azure Canopy of Heaven And spangle it all with Sparkes of burning Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold With motions strange t' indue the Planets seven And Jove to make so mild and Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet Accords are given Lord to thy Wisdome's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come basely in Mortality to bide And die for those deserv'd an endlesse night A Wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to thinke on it WHat haplesse Hap had I for to be borne In these unhappy Times and dying Daies Of this now doting World when Good decayes Love 's quite extinct and Vertue 's held a scorne When such are only pris'd by wretched waies Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Avarice and Lust are counted praise And bravest Minds live Orphane-like forlorne Why was not I borne in that golden Age When Gold yet was not known and those black Arts By which Base Worldlings vilely play their parts With Horrid Acts staining Earths stately Stage To have been then O heaven 't had been my bliss But blesse me now and take me soone from this On the Pourtrait of the Countesse of Perthe SON THe Goddesse that in Amathus doth raigne With silver Tramells and Saphir-colour'd Eyes When naked from her Mothers Chrystall Plaine She first appear'd unto the wondring Skies Or when the golden-Apple to obtaine Her blushing Snow amazed Idas Trees Did never look in halfe so faire a guise As She here drawn all other Ages Staine O God what Beauties to inflame the Soule And hold the hardest Hearts in Chaines of Gold Faire Locks sweet Face Loves stately Capitole Pure Neck which doth that heavenly Frame uphold If Vertue would to mortall Eyes appeare To ravish sense She would your Beautie wear SON IF Heaven the Stars and Nature did her grace With all Perfections found the Moone above And what excelleth in this lower Place Found place in her to breed a World of Love If Angels Gleames shine on her fairest Face Which makes Heavens Joy on Earth the gazer prove And her bright Eyes the Orbes which Beauty move As Phoebus dazell in his glorious Race What Pencill paint what Colour to the sight So sweet a Shape can show the blushing Morne The red must lend the Milkie-way the white And Night the Stars which her rich Crown adorne To draw her right then and make all agree The Heaven the Table Zeuxis Jove must be On that same drawn with a Pencill SON WHen with brave Art the curious Painter drew This Heavenly Shape the hand why made he beare With golden Veines that Flow'r of purple hue Which follows on the Planet of the yeare Was it to show how in our Hemispheare Like him She shines nay that effects more true Of Power and Wonder do in her appeare While He but Flow'rs and She doth Minds subdue Or would he else to Vertues glorious light Her constant Course make known or is 't that He Doth paralell her blisse with Clitias plight Right so and thus He reading in Her Eye Some Lovers end to grace what he did grave For Cypres Tree this mourning Flow'r her gave MADRIGALL IF sight be not beguil'd And eyes right play their part This Flower is not of Art But 's fairest Natures Child And though when Titanâ—s from our World exil'd She doth not lock her leaves his losse to moane No wonder Earth finds now more Suns than one To the Author Parthenius WHile thou dost praise the Roses Lillies Gold Which in a dangling Tresse and Face appeare Still stands the Sun in Skies thy Songs to heare A Silence sweet each whispering Wind doth hold Sleep in Pasithea's Lap his Eyes doth fold The Sword falls from the God of the fift Spheare The Heards to feed the Birds to sing forbeare Each Plant breaths Love each Floud and Fountain cold And hence it is that that once Nymph now Tree Who did th' Amphrisian Shepheards Sighs disdaine And scorn'd his Layes mov'd by a sweeter Vaine Is become pitifull and follows Thee Thee loves and vanâ—eth that she hath the Grace A Garland for thy Locks to enterlace Alexis THe Love Alexis did to Damon beare Shall witness'd be to all the Woods and Plaines As singular renown'd by neighbouring Swaines That to our Relicts Time may Trophees reare Those Madrigals we sung amidst our Flocks With Garlands guarded from Apollos Beames On Ochelles whiles neare Bodottias Streames The Ecchoes did resound them from the Rocks Of forraine Shepheards bent to try the States Though I Worlds Guest a Vagabond do stray Thou may that Store which I esteem Survey As best acquainted with my Soules Conceits What ever Fate Heavens have for me design'd I trust thee with the Treasure of my Mind Clorus SWan which so sweetly sings By Aska's Bankes and pitifully plains That old Meander never heard such Straines Eternall Fame thou to thy Country brings And now our Calidon Is by thy Songs made a new Helicon Her Mountaines Woods and Springs While Mountains Woods Springs be shall sound thy praise And though fierce Boreas oft make pale her Bayes And kill those Mirtills with enraged Breath Which should thy Brows enwreath Her Flouds have Pearles Seas
Amber do send forth Her Heaven hath golden Stars to crown thy Worth Moeris THe sister Nymphs which haunt the Thespian springs More liberally their Gifts ne're did bequeath To them who on their Hils suckt sacred Breath Then unto thee by which thou sweetly sings Ne're did Apollo raise on Pegase Wings A Muse more neare Himselfe more far from Earth Than thine whether thou weep thy Ladies Death Or sing those sweet-sowre Pangs that Passion brings To write our Thoughts in Verse doth merit Praise But thus the Verse to gild in Fictions Ore Bright rich delightfull doth deserve much more As thou hast done these thy melodious Layes No doubt thy Muses faire Morne doth bewray The swift Approach of a more glistring Day TEARES ON THE DEATH OF MOELIADES BY WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAVVTHORNEDEN LONDON Printed in the Yeare 1656. To the Author IN Waves of Woe thy Sighs my Soule do tosse And make run out the floud-gates of my teares Whose rankling Wound no smoothing Baume long beares But freely bleeds when ought upbraids my Losse 'T is thou so sweetly Sorrow makest to sing And troubled Passions dost so well accord That more Delight Thy Anguish doth afford Than others Joyes can Satisfaction bring What sacred Wits when ravish'd do affect To force Affections Metamorphose Minds Whilst numbrous Power the Soule in secret binds Thou hast perform'd transforming in Effect For never Plaints did greater Pitty move The best Applause that can such Notes approve Sr W. ALEXANDER Teares on the Death of MOELIADES O Heavens then is it true that Thou art gone And left this woefull Isle her Losse to moane Moeliades bright Day-star of the West A 〈◊〉 blazing Terrour to the East And neither that thy Spirit so heavenly wise Nor Body though of Earth more pure than Skies Nor royall Sâ—em nor thy sweet tender Age Of cruell Destinies could quench the Rage O fading Hopes O short-while lasting Joy Of Earth-borne man that one Houre can destroy Then even of Vertues Spoiles Death Trophies reares As if he gloried most in many Teares Forc'd by hard Fates do Heavens neglect our Cries Are Stars set only to act Tragedies Then let them do their Worst since thou art gone Raise whom thou list to Thrones enthron'd dethrone Staine Princely Bow'rs with Bloud and even to Gange In Cypresse sad glad Hymens Torches change Ah thou hast left to live and in the Time When scarce thou blossom'd'st in thy pleasant Prime So falls by Northern Blast a virgin Rose At halfe that doth her bashfull Bosome close So a sweet Flower languishing decaies That late did blush when kist by Phoebus Raies So Phoebus mounting the Meridians height Choak't by pale Phoebe faints unto our sight Astonish'd Nature sullen stands to see The Life of all this All so chang'd to be In gloomy Gowns the Stars this losse deplore The Sea with murmuring Mountaines beats the Shore Black Darkenesse reeles o're all in thousand Show'rs The weeping Aire on Earth her sorrow poures That in a Palsey quakes to see so soone Her Lover set and Night burst forth ere Noone If Heaven alas ordain'd thee young to die Why was 't not where thou might'st thy Valour try And to the wondring World at least set forth Some little Sparke of thy expected Worth Moeliades O that by Isterâ— Streames 'Mong sounding Trumpets fiery twinkling Gleames Of warme vermilion Swords and Cannons Roare Balls thick as Raine pour'd on the Caspian Shore 'Mongst broken Spears 'mongst ringing Helms shields Huge heapes of slaughtred Bodies long the Fields In Turkish bloud made red like Marses Star Thou endedst had thy Life and Christian War Or as brave Burbon thou hadst made old Rome Queen of the World thy Triumph and thy Tombe So Heavens fair Face to th' unborne World which reads A Book had been of thy illustrious Deeds So to their Nephews aged Syres had told The high Exploits perform'd by thee of old Towns raz'd and rais'd victorious vanquish'd Bands Fierce Tyrants flying foyl'd kill'd by thy Hands And in rich Arras Virgins faire had wrought The Bayes and Trophies to thy Country brought While some New Homer imping Wings to Fame Deafe Nilus dwellers had made heare thy Name That thou didst not attaine these Honours Spheares Through want of Worth it was not but of Yeares A Youth more brave pale Troy with trembling Walls Dâ—d never see nor She whose Name appalls Both Titans golden Bow'rs in bloudy Fights Mustring on Mars his Field such Mars-like Knights The Heavens had brought thee to the highest Hight Of Wit and Courage shewing all their Might When they thee fram'd Aye me that what is brave On Earth they as their own so soon should crave Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thale to Hydaspes pearly shore When Forth thy Nurse Forth where thou first didst passe Thy tender Daies who smil'd oft on her Glasse To see thee gaze Meandring with her Streames Heard thou hadst left this Round from Phoebus Beames She sought to flie but forced to returne By Neighbouring Brooks She set her selfe to mourne And as she rush'd her Cyclades among She seem'd too plain that Heaven had done her wrong With a hoarse plaint Cleyd down her steepy rocks And Tweid through her green Mountaines clad with flocks Did wound the Ocean murmuring thy death The Ocean it roar'd about the Earth And to the Mauritanian Atlas told Who shrunke through griefe and down his white hairs rold Huge Streames of tears which changed were to flouds Wherewith he drown'd the neighbour plains woods The lesser Brooks as they did bubling go Did keep a Consort to the publike Woe The Shepheards left their Flocks with down-cast eies ' Sdaining to look up to the angry Skies Some brake their Pipes and some in sweet-sad Layes Made senselesse things amazed at thy Praise His Reed Alexis hung upon a Tree And with his Teares made Doven great to be Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thule to Hydaspes pearely shore Chaste Maids which haunt faire Aganippes Well And you in Tempes sacred Shade who dwell Let fall your Harps cease Tunes of Joy to sing Dissheveled make all Parnassus ring With Anthâ—amesâ—ad â—ad thy Musick Phoebus turne To dolefull plaints whilst Joy it selfe doth mourne Dead is thy Darling who adorn'd thy Bayes Who oft was wont to cherish thy sweet Layes And to a Trumpet raise thy amorous Stile That floting Delos envy might this Isle You Acidalian Archers breake your Bows Your Torches quench with teares blot Beauties Snows And bid your weeping Mother yet againe A second Adoâ—s death nay Mars his plaine His Eyes once were your Darts nay even his Name Where ever heard did every Heart inflame Tagus did court his Love with Golden Streames Rhein with his Towns faire Seine with all she claimes But ah poore Lovers Death them did betray And not suspected made their Hopes his Prey Tagus bewailes his Losse in Golden Streames Rhein with his Towns faire Seine with all she claimes Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thule to
of the Spheares When Quills could move no more and force did faile Though down I fell from Heavens high azure bounds Yet doth Renowne my Losses countervaile For still the Shore my brave attempt resounds A Sea an Element doth beare my Name What Mortalls Tombe's so great in Place or Fame On his Lady beholding her selfe in a Marble WOrld wonder not that I Keep in my brest engraven That Angels face hath me of Rest bereaven See Dead and Senselesse things cannot deny To lodge so deare a Guest Ev'n this hard Marble Stone Receives the same and loves but cannot groane To sleep HOw comes it Sleep that thou Even kisses me affords Of her deare her so far who 's absent now How did I heare those Words Which Rocks might move and move the Pines to Bow Aye me before halfe day Why did'st thou steale away Returne I thine for ever will remaine If thou wilt bring with thee that Guest againe A pleasant deceit OVer a christall Source Iolas laid his face Of purling Streames to see the restlesse Course But scarce he had o'reshadowed the Place When in the water he a Child espies So like himselfe in stature Face and Eyes That glad he rose and cried Deare Mates approach see whom I have descried The Boy of whom strange stories Shepheards tell Oft-called Hylas dwelleth in this Well The Canon WHen first the Canon from her gaping Throat Against the Heaven her roaring Sulphur shot Jove wakened with the noise did aske with wonder What Mortall Wight had stolne from him his Thunder His christall Tow'rs he feared but Fire and Aire So high did stay the Ball from mounting there Thais Metamorphosis INto Briareus huge Thais wish'd she might change Her Man and pray'd him not thereat to grudge Nor fondly thinke it strange For if said she I might the parts dispose I wish you not a hundred Armes nor Hands But hundred things like those With which Priapus in our Garden stands The quality of a Kisse THe kisse with so much strife Which I late got sweet Heart Was it a sign of Death or was it Life Of Life it could not be For I by it did sigh my Soule in thee Ne was it Death Death doth no joy impart Thou silent stand'st ah what did'st thou bequeath A dying Life to me or living Death His Ladies Dog WHen Her deare Bosome clips That little Cur which fawnes to touch her Lips Or when it is his hap To lie lap'd in her Lap O it grows Noon with me With hotter-pointed Beames I burne then those are which the Sun forth streames When piercing lightning his Rayes call'd may be And as I muse how I to shose extreames Am brought I find no Cause except that She In Loves bright Zodiack having trac'd each Roome To the hot Dog-star now at last is come An Almanack THis strange Ecclipse one saies Strange Wonders doth foretell But you whose Wives excell And love to count their Praise Shut all your gates your Hedges plant with Thornes The Sun did threat the World this time with Hornes The Silk-Worme of Love A Daedale of my Death Now I resemble that slie worme on Earth Which prone to its own harme doth take no rest For Day and Night opprest I feed on fading Leaves Of Hope which me deceives And thousand Webs do warpe within my Brest And thus in end unto my selfe I weave A fast-shut Prison or a closer Grave Deep impression of Love to his Mistris WHom a mad Dog doth bite He doth in Water still That mad Dogs Image see Love mad perhaps when he my Heart did smite More to dissemble his Ill Transform'd himselfe to thee For thou art present ever since to me No Spring there is no Floud nor other Place Where I alas not see thy Heavenly Face A Chaine of Gold ARe not those Locks of Gold Sufficient Chaines the wildest Hearts to hold Is not that Ivory Hand A Diamantine Band Most sure to keep the most untamed Mind But ye must others find O yes why is that Golden One then woâ—ne Thus free in Chaines perhaps Loves Chaines to scorne On the Death of a Linnet IF cruell Death had Eares Or could be pleas'd by Songs This wing'd Musician had lâ—v'd many yeares And Nisa mine had never wâ—pt these Wrongs For when it first took Breath The Heavens their Notes did unto it bequeath And if that Samians sentences be true Amphion in this Body liv'd anew But Death who nothing spares and nothing heares As he doth Kings kill'd it O Griefe O Teares Lillas Prayer LOve if thou wilt once more That I to thee returne Sweet God make me not burn For quivering Age that doth spent Daies deplore Nor do thou wound my Heart For some unconstant Boy Who joyes to love yet makes of Love a Toy But ah if I must prove thy golden Dart Of grace O let me find A sweet young Lover with an aged Mind Thus Lilla pray'd and Idas did reply Who heard Deare have thy wish for such am I. Armelins Epitaph NEare to this Eglantine Enclosed lies the milke-white Armeline Once Cloris only joy Now only her annoy Who envied was of the most happy Swaines That keep their Flocks in Mountaines Dales or Plains For oft she bore the wanton in her Arme And oft her Bed and Bosome did he warme Now when unkinder Fates did him destroy Blest Dog he had the Grace That Cloris for him wet with teares her Face Epitaph THe Bawd of Justice he who Laws controll'd And made them fawn and frown as he got gold That Proteus of our State whose Heart and Mouth Were farther distant than is North from South That Cormorant who made himselfe so grosse On Peoples Ruine and the Princes Losse Is gone to Hell and though he here did evill He there perchance may prove an honest Devill A Translation FIerce Robbers were of old Exil'd the Champian Ground From Hamlets chas'd in Cities kill'd or bound And only Woods Caves Mountaines did them hold But now when all is sold Woods Mountaines Caves to good Men be refuge And do the Guiltlesse lodge And clad in Purple Gowns The greatest Theeves command within the Towns Epitaph THen Death thee hath beguil'd Alectos first borne Child Then thou who thrall'd all Laws Now against Wormes cannot maintaine thy Cause Yet Wormes more just than thou now do no Wrong Since all do wonder they thee spar'd so long For though from Life thou didst but lately passe Twelve Springs are gone since thou corrupted was Come Citizens erect to death an Altar Who keeps you from Axe Fuell Timber Halter A Jest. IN a most holy Church a holy man Vnto a holy Saint with Visage wan And Eyes like Fountaines mumbled forth a Prayer And with strange Words and Sighs made black the Aire And having long so stay'd and long long pray'd A thousand crosses on himselfe he lay'd And with some sacred Beads hung on his Armâ— His Eyes his Mouth his Temples Brest did charme Thus not content strange Worship hath no
our Death But Fathers Justice pleas'd Hell Death o'recome In triumph now thou risest from thy Tombe With Glories which past Sorrows countervaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile Hence humble sense and hence ye Guides of sense We now reach Heaven your weake intelligence And searching Pow'rs were in a flash made 〈◊〉 To learne from all Eternity that him The Father bred then that he here did come His Bearers Parent in a Virgins Wombe But then when sold betray'd crown'd scourg'd with Thorn Nail'd to a Tree all breathlesse bloudlesse torne Entomb'd him risen from a Grave to find Confounds your Cunning turnes like Moles you blind Death thou that heretofore still barren wast Nay didst each other Bâ—rth eate up and waste Imperious hatefull pittilesse unjust Unpartiall equaller of all with dust Sterne Executioner of heavenly doome Made fruitfull now Lifes Mother art become A sweet reliefe of Cares the Soule molest An Harbinger to Glory Peace and Rest Put off thy mourning Weeds yeeld all thy Gall To dayly sinning Life proud of thy fall Assemble all thy Captives haste to rise And every Coarse in Earth-quakes where it lies Sound from each flowry Grave and rocky Jaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile The World that wanning late and faint did lie Applauding to our Joyes thy Victory To a young Prime Essayes to turne againe And as ere soyl'd with Sin yet to remaine Her chilling Agues she begins to misse All Blisse returning with the Lord of Blisse With greater light Heavens Temples opened shine Morns smiling rise Evens blushing do decline Clouds dappled glister boist'rous Winds are calme Soft Zephyres do the Fields with sighs embalme In silent calmes the Sea hath husht his Roares And with enamour'd Curles doth kisse the Shoares All-bearing Earth like a new-married Queene Her Beauties hightens in a Gown of Greene Perfumes the Aire her Meads are wrought with flow'rs In colours various figures smelling pow'rs Trees wanton in the Groves with leavy Locks Her Hâ—lls enamell'd stand the Vales the Rocks Ring peales of Joy her Floods and pratling Brookes Stars liquid Mirrors with serpenting Crooks And whispering murmures sound unto the Maine The Golden Age returned is againe The honey People leave their golden Bow'rs And innocently prey on budding Flow'rs In gloomy Shades percht on the tender Sprayes The painted Singers fill the Aire with Layes Seas Floods Earth Aire all diversly do sound Yet all their diverse Notes hath but one ground Re-eccho'd here-down from Heavens azure Vaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile O Day on which Deaths Adamantine Chaine The Lord did breake did ransack Satans Raigne And in triumphing Pompe his Trophees rear'd Be thou blest ever henceforth still endear'd With Name of his own Day the Law to Grace Types to their substance yeeld to thee give place The old New-Moons with all festivall Daies And what above the rest deserveth praise The reverend Sabaoth what could else they be Than golden Heraulds telling what by thee We should enjoy Shades past now shine thou cleare And henceforth be thou Empresse of the yeare This Glory of thy Sisters Sex to win From worke on thee as other Daies from Sin That Mankind shall forbeare in every place The Prince of Planets warmeth in his race And far beyond his paths in frozen Climes And may thou be so blest to out-date Times That when Heavens Quire shall blaze in Accents loud The many Mercies of their soveraigne Good How he on thee did Sin Death Hell destroy It may be still the Burthen of their Joy BEneath a sable vaile and Shadows deep Of unaccessible and dimming light In silence Ebon clouds more black than Night The Worlds great Mind his secrets hid doth keep Through those thick Mists when any mortall Wight Aspires with halting pace and Eyes that weep To pry and in his Mysteries to creep With Thunders he and Lightnings blasts their Sight O Sun invisible that dost abide Within thy bright abysmes most faire most darke Where with thy proper Raies thou dost thee hide O ever-shining never full-seene marke To guide me in Lifes Night thy light me show The more I search of thee the lesse I know IF with such passing Beauty choice Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible short lists of Fame And silly Mansion but of dying Wights How many Wonders what amazing lights Must that triumphing Seat of Glory claime That doth transcend all this All 's vaste hights Of whose bright Sun ours here is but a beame O blest abode O happy dwelling-place Where visibly th' Invisible doth raigne Blest People which do see true Beauties Face With whose far Shadows scarce he Earth doth daigne All Joy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Maâ—ch'd with your endlesse Blisse and happy life LOve which is here a care That Wit and Will doth mar Uncertaine Truce and a most certaine War A shrill tempestuous Wind Which doth disturbe the Mind And like wild Waves all our designes commove Among those Pow'rs above Which see their Makers Face It a contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure void of Griefe a constant rest Eternall Joy which nothing can molest THat space where curled Waves do now divide From the great Continent our happy Isle Was sometime Land and now where Ships do glide Once with laborious Art the Plough did toyle Once those faire Bounds stretcht out so far and wide Where Towns no Shires enwall'd endeare each mile Were all ignoble Sea and marish vile Where Proteus Flocks danc'd measures to the Tide So Age transforming all still forward runs No wonder though the Earth doth change her Face New Manners Pleasures new turne with new Suns Locks now like Gold grow to an hoary grace Nay Minds rare shape doth change that lies despis'd Which was so deare of late and highly priz'd THis World a Hunting is The Prey poore Man the Nimrod fierce is Death His speedy Grayhounds are Lust Sicknesse Envy Care Strife that ne're falls amiss With all those ills which haunt us while we breath Now if by chance we flie Of these the eager chace Old Age with stealing pace Casts on his Nets and there we panting die WHy Worldlings do ye trust fraile Honours dreames And leane to guilted Glories which decay Why do ye toyle to registrate your Names On Ycie Pillars which soon melt away True Honour is not here that place it claimes Where black-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no far-shining lampe dives in the Sea But an eternall Sun spreads lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sp'rits stand gazing on their soveraigne Blisse Where yeares not hold it in their cank'ring hands But who once noble ever noble is Look home lest he your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall AS are those Apples pleasant to the Eye But full of smoake within which use to grow Neere that strange Lake where God powr'd from the Skie Huge show'rs of flames worse flames to overthrow Such are
their works that with a glaring Show Of humble holinesse in Vertues dye Would colour mischiefe while within they glow With coales of Sin though none the Smoake descry Bad is that Angell that earst fell from Heaven But not so bad as he nor in worse case Who hides a trait'rous mind with smiling face And with a Doves white feathers cloaths a Raven Each Sin some colour hath it to adorne Hypocrisie All-mighty God doth scorne NEw doth the Sun appeare The Mountaines Snows decay Crown'd with fraile flow'rs forth comes the Infant yeare My Soule Time posts away And thou yet in that frost Which Flow'r and fruit hath lost As if all here immortall were dost stay For shame thy Powers awake Look to that Heaven which never Night makes blacke And there at that immortall Suns bright Raies Deck thee with Flow'rs which feare not rage of Daies THrice happy he who by some shady Grove Far from the clamorous World doth live his own Though solitary who is not alone But doth converse with that eternall Love O how more sweet is Birds harmonious Moane Or the hoarse Sobbings of the widow'd Dove Than those smooth whisperings neer a Princes Throne Which Good make doubtfull do the evill approve O how more sweet is Zephyres wholesome Breath And Sighs embalm'd which new-born Flow'rs unfold Than that applause vaine Honour doth bequeath How sweet are Streames to poyson dranke in Gold The World is full of Horrours Troubles Slights Woods harmelesse Shades have only true Delights SWeet Bird that sing'st away the earely Houres Of Winters past or comming void of Care Well pleased with Delights which present are Faire Seasons budding Spraies sweet-smelling Flow'rs To Rocks to Springs to Rills from leavy Bow'rs Thou thy Creators Goodnesse dost declare And what deare Gifts on thee he did not spare A staine to humane sense in Sin that low'rs What Soule can be so sick which by thy Songs Attir'd in sweetnesse sweetly is not driven Quite to forget Earths turmoiles spights and Wrongs And lift a reverend Eye and Thought to Heaven Sweet Artlesse Songster thou my Mind dost raise To Ayres of Spheares yes and to Angels Layes AS when it hapneth that some lovely Town Unto a barbarous Besieger falls Who both by Sword and Flame himselfe enstalls And shamelesse it in Teares and Bloud doth drown Her Beauty spoyl'd her Citizens made Thralls His spight yet cannot so her all throw down But that some Statue Pillar of renown Yet lurkes unmaim'd within her weeping walls So after all the Spoile Disgrace and Wrack That Time the World and Death could bring combin'd Amidst that Masse of Ruines they did make Safe and all scarlesse yet remaines my Mind From this so high transcendent Rapture springs That I all else defac'd not envy Kings LEt us each day enure our selves to dye If this and not our feares be truly Death Above the Circles both of Hope and Faith With faire immortall Pinnions to flie If this be Death our best Part to untye By ruining the Jaile from Lust and Wrath And every drowsie languor here beneath To be made deniz'd Citizen of Skie To have more knowledge than all Books containe All Pleasures even surmounting wishing Pow'r The fellowship of Gods immortall Traine And these that Time nor force shall e're devoure If this be Death What Joy what golden care Of Life can with Deaths ouglinesse compare AMidst the azure cleare Of Jordans sacred Streames Jordan of Libanon the off-spring deare When Zephires flow'rs unclose And Sun shines with new Beaâ—es With grave and stately grace a Nymph arose Upon her Head she ware Of Amaranthes a Crown Her left hand Palmes her right a Torch did beare Unvail'd Skins whiteness lay Gold haires in Curles hang down Eyes sparkled Joy more bright than Star of Day The Floud a Throne her rear'd Of Waves most like that Heaven Where beaming Stars in Glory turne ensphear'd The Aire stood calme and cleare No Sigh by Winds was given Birds left to sing Heards feed her voice to heare World-wandring sorry Wights Whom nothing can content Within these varying lists of Daies and Nights Whose life ere known amiss In glittering Griefes is spent Come learne said she what is your choisest Bliss From Toyle and pressing Cares How ye may respit find A Sanctuary from Soule-thralling Snares A Port to harbour sure In spight of waves and wind Which shall when Times swift Glass is run endure Not happy is that Life Which you as happy hold No but a Sea of feares a Field of strife Charg'd on a Throne to sit With Diadems of Gold Preserv'd by Force and still observ'd by Wit Huge Treasures to enjoy Of all her Gems spoyle Inde All Seres silke in Garments to imploy Deliciously to feed The Phoenix plumes to find To rest upon or deck your purple Bed Fraile Beauty to abuse And wanton Sybarites On past or present touch of sense to muse Never to heare of Noise But what the Eare delights Sweet Musicks charmes or charming flatterers voice Nor can it Bliss you bring Hid Natures Depths to know Why matter changeth whence each forme doth spring Nor that your Fame should range And after-Worlds it blow From Tanais to Nile from Nile to Gange All these have not the Pow'r To free the Mind from feares Nor hideous horrour can allay one houre When Death in stealth doth glance In Sickness lurks or yeares And wakes the Soule from out her mortall Tranâ—e No but blest life is this With chaste and pure Desire To turne unto the load-star of all Bliss On God the Mind to rest Burnt up with sacred Fire Possessing him to be by him possest When to the baâ—lmy East Sun doth his light impart Or when he diveth in the lowly West And ravisheth the Day With spotlesse Hands and Heart Him cheerefully to praise and to him pray To heed each action so As ever in his sight More fearing doing Ill than passive woe Not to seeme other thing Than what ye are aright Never to do what may Repentance bring Not to be blown with Pride Nor mov'd at Glories breath Which Shadow-like on wings of Time doth glide So Malice to disarme And conquer hasty Wrath As to do good to those that worke your harme To hatch no base Desires Or Gold or Land to gaine Well pleas'd with that which Vertue faire acquires To have the Wit and Will Consorting in one Straine Than what is good to have no higher skill Never on Neighbours Goods With Cocatrices Eye To looke nor make anothers Heaven your Hell Nor to be Beauties Thrall All fruitlesse Love to flie Yet loving still a Love transcendent all A Love which while it burnes The Soule with fairest Beames To that increaâ—ed Sun the Soule it turnes And makes such Beauty prove That if Sense saw her Gleames All lookers on would pine and die for love Who such a life doth live You happy even may call Ere ruthlesse Death a wished end him give And after then when given More happy by his fall
with winter glasse The ayry Caucasus the Apennine Pyrenes clifts where Sun doth never shine When he some craggy Hills hath ever-went Begins to thinke â—n rest his Journey spent Till mounting some tall Mountainâ— he do find More hights before him than he left behind With halting pace so while I would me raise To the unbounded limits of thy Praise Some part of way I thought to have o're-run But now I see how scarce I have begun With Wonders new my Spirits range possest And wandring waylesse in a maze them rest In these vaste Fields of Light etheriall Plaines Thou art attended by immortall Traines Of Intellectuall Pow'rs which thou broughtst forth To praise thy Goodnesse and admire thy Worth In numbers passing others Creatures far Since Creatures most noble maniest are Which do in knowledge us not lesse out-run Than Moon in light doth Stars or Moon the Sun Unlike in Orders rang'd and many a Band If Beauty in Disparity doth stand Arch-angels Angels Cherubs Seraphines And what with name of Thrones amongst them shines Large-ruling Princes Dominations Pow'rs All-acting Vertues of those flaming Tow'rs These freed of Umbrage these of Labour free Rest ravished with still beholding Thee Inflam'd with Beames which sparkle from thy Face They can no more desire far lesse embrace Low under them with slow and staggering pace Thy Hand-maid Nature thy great Steps doth trace The Source of second Causes golden Chaine That links this Frame as thou it doth ordaine Nature gaz'd on with such a curious Eye That Earthlings oft her deem'd a Deity By Nature led those Bodies faire and great Which faint not in their Course nor change their State Unintermixt which no disorder prove Though aye and contrary they alwaies move The Organs of thy Providence divine Books ever open Signâ—s that clearely shine Times purpled Maskers then do them advance As by sweet Musick in a measur'd dance Stars Hoste of Heaven ye Firmaments bright Flow'rs Cleare Lamps which overhang this Stage of ours Ye turne not there to deck the Weeds of Night Nor Pageant-like to please the vulgar Sight Great Causes sure ye must bring great Effects But who can descant right your grave Aspects He only who Yoâ— made decipher can Your Notes Heavens Eyes ye blind the Eyes of Man Amidst these Saphir far-extending Hights The never-twinkling ever-wandring Lights Their fixed Motions keep one dry and cold Deep-Leaden colour'd slowly there is roll'd With Rule and Line for Times steps meting even In twice three Lustres he but turnes his Heaven With temperate qualities and Countenance faire Still mildly smiling sweetly debonaire Another cheares the World and way doth make In twice sixe Autumnes through the Zodiack But hot and dry with flaming Locks and Brows Enrag'd this in his red Pavillion glows Together running with like speed â—f space Two equally in hands atchieve their race With blushing Face this oft doth bring the Day And ushers oft to stately Stars the way That various in vertue changing light With his small flame impearles the vaile of Night Prince of this Court the Sun in triumph rides With the Yeare Snake-like in her selfe that glides Times Dispensator faire life-giving Source Through Skies twelve Posts as he doth run his course Heart of this All of what is known to sence The likest to his Makers excellence In whose diurnall motion doth appeare A Shadow no true pourtrait of the Yeare The Moone moves lowest silver Sun of Night Dispersing through the World her borrow'd light Who in three formes her head abroad doth range And only constant is in constant Change Sad Queen of Silence I ne're see thy Face To waxe or waine or shine with a full grace But straight amaz'd on Man I think each Day His state who changeth or if he find Stay It is in dolefull anguish cares and paines And of his Labours Death is all the Gaines Immortall Monarch can so fond a Thought Lodge in my Brest as to trust thou first brought Here in Earths shady Cloyster wretched Man To suck the Aire of Woe to spend Lifes span ' Midst Sighs and Plaints a Stranger unto Mirth To give himselfe his Death rebucking Birth By sense and wit of Creatures made King By sense and wit to live their Underling And what is worst have Eaglets eyes to see His own disgrace and know an high degree Of Blâ—sse the Place if he might thereto clime And not live thralled to imperious Time Or dotard shall I so from Reason swerve To dim those Lights which to our use do serve For thou dost not them need more nobly fram'd Than us that know their course and have them nam'd No I ne're thinke but we did them surpasse As far as they do Asterismes of Glasse When thou us made by Treason high defil'd Thrust from our first estate we live exil'd Wandring this Earth which is of Death the Lot Where he doth use the Pow'r which he hath got Indifferent Umpire unto Clowns and Kings The supreame Monarch of all moâ—tall things When fiâ—st this flowry Oâ—be was to us given I but in place disvalu'd was to Heaven These Creatures which now our Soveraignes are And as to Rebels do denounce us war Then were our Vassals no tumultuous Storme No Thunders Earthquakes did her Forme deforme The Seas in tumbling Mountaines did not roare But like moist Christall whispered on the Shoare No Snake did trace her Meads nor ambusht lowre In azure Curles beneath the sweet-Spring Flow'r The Night shade Henbane Napell Aconite Her Bowels then not bare with Death to smite Her guiltlesse Brood thy Messengers of Grace As their high Rounds did haunt this lower Place O Joy of Joyes with our first Parents Thou To commune then didst daigâ—e as Friends do now Against thee we rebell'd and justly thus Each Creature rebelled against us Earth rest of what did chiefe in her excell To all became a Jaile to most a Hell In Times full Terme untill thy Son was given Who Man with Thee Earth reconcil'd with Heaven Whole and entire all in thy Selfe thou art All-where diffus'd yet of this All no part For infinite in making this faire Frame Great without Quantity in all thou came And filling all how can thy State admit Or Place or Substance to be void of it Were Worlds as many as the Rayes which streame From Daies bright lampe on madding Wits do dreame They would not reele in ought nor wandring stray But draw to Thee who could their Centers stay Were but one hours this World disjoyn'd from thee It in one houre to nought reduc'd should be For it thy Shadow is and can they last If sever'd from the Substances them cast O only blest and Author of all Blisse No Bliss it selfe that all where wished is Efficient exemplary finall Good Of thine own Selfe but only understood Light is thy Curtaine thou art Light of Light An ever-waking Eye still shining bright In-looking all exempt of passive Pow'r And change in change since Deaths pale shade doth low'r All Times to
Caledonian Crown Thy vertues now thy just desire shall grace Sterne Chance shall change and to Desert give place Let this be known to all the Fates admit To their grave Counsell and to every wit That courts Heavens inside this let Sibills know And those mad Corybants who dance and glow On Dindimus high tops with frantick fire Let this be known to all Apollo's Quire And People let it not be hid from you What Mountaines noyse and flouds proclaime as true Whereever Fame abroad his praise shall ring All shall observe and serve this blessed King The End of King Charles his Entertainment at Edenborough 1633. A Pastorall Elegie on the Death of S. W. A. IN sweetest prime and blooming of his Age Deare Alcon ravish'd from this mortall Stage The Shepheards mourn'd as they him lov'd before Among the Rout him Edmon did deplore Idmon who whether Sun in East did rise Or dive in West pour'd Torrents from his Eyes Of liquid Chrystall under Hawthorne shade At last to Trees and Rocks this plaint he made Alcon delight of Heaven desire of Earth Off-spring of Phoebus and the Muses birth The Graces Darling Adon of our Plaines Flame of the fairest Nymphs the Earth sustaines What Power of thee hath us bereft What Fate By thy untimely fall would ruinate Our hopes O Death what treasure in one houre Hast thou dispersed How dost thou devoure What we on earth hold dearest All things good Too envious Heavens how blast ye in the Bud The Corne the greedy Reapers cut not down Before the Fields with golden Eares it crown Nor doth the verdant Fruits the Gardener pull But thou art cropt before thy yeares were full With thee sweet youth the Glories of our Fields Vanish away and what contentments yields The Lakes their silver look the woods their shades The Springs their Christall want their Verdure Meads The yeares their early seasons cheerfull Dayes Hills gloomy stand now desolate of Rayes Their amorous whispers Zephires not us bring Nor do Aires Quiresters salute the Spring The freezing winds our Gardens do defloure Ah Destinies and you whom Skies embow'r To his faire Spoiles his Spright againe yet give And like another Phoenix make him live The Herbs though cut sprout fragrant from their stems And make with Crimson blush our Anademâ— The Sun when in the West he doth decline Heavens brightest Tapers at his Funeralls shine His Face when washt in the Atlantick Seas Revives and cheeres the Welkin with new Raies Why should not he since of more pure a Frame Returne to us againe and be the same But wretch what wish I To the winds I send These Plaints and Prayers Destines cannot lend Thee more of Time nor Heavens consent will thus Thou leave their starry World to dwell with us Yet shall they not thee keep amidst their Spheares Without these lamentations and Teares Thou wast all Vertue Courtesie and Worth And as Suns light is in the Moon set forth Worlds supreame Excellence in thee did shine Nor though eclipsed now shalt thou decline But in our Memories live while Dolphins streames Shall haunt whilst Eaglets stare on Titans beames Whilst Swans upon their Christall Tombes shall sing Whilst Violets with Purple paint the Spring A gentler Shepheard Flocks did never feed On Albions Hills nor sung to oaten Reed While what she found in Thee my Muse would blaze Griefe doth distract Her and cut short thy Praise How oft have we inviron'd by the Throng Of tedious Swaines the cooler shades among Contemn'd Earths glow-worme Greatnesse and the Châ—ce Of Fortune scorn'd deeming it disgrace To court unconstancy How oft have we Some Chloris Name graven in each Virgin Tree And finding Favours fading the next Day What we had carv'd we did deface away Woefull Remembrance Nor Time nor Place Of thy abodement shadows any Trace But there to me Thou shin'st late glad Desires And ye once Roses how are ye turned Bryers Contentments passed and of Pleasures Chiefe Now are ye frightfull Horrours Hells of Griefe When from thy native Soyle Love had Thee driven Thy safe returne Prefigurating a Heaven Of flattering Hopes did in my Fancy move Then little dreaming it should Atomes prove These Groves preserve will I these loved Woods These Orchards rich with Fruits with Fish these flouds My Alcon will returne and once againe His chosen Exiles he will entertaine The populous City holds him amongst Harmes Of some fierce Circe's stronger Charmes These Bankes said I he visit will and Streames These silent shades ne're kist by courting Beames Far far off I will meet him and I first Shall him approaching know and first be blest With his Aspect I first shall heare his voice Him find the same he parted and rejoyce To learne his passed Perills know the Sports Of forraine Shepheards Fawns and Fairy Courts No pleasure to the Fields an happy State The Swaines enjoy secure from what they hate Free of proud Cares they innocently spend The Day nor do black Thoughts their ease offend Wise Natures Darlings they live in the World Perplexing not themselves how it is hurld These Hillocks Phoebus loves Ceres these Plaines Thâ—se Shades the Sylvans and here Pales straines Milke in the Pailes the Maids which haunt the Springs Daunce on these Pastures here Amintas sings Hesperian Gardens Tempe's shades are here Or what the Easterne Inde and West hold deare Come then deare Youth the Wood-nymphs twine thee Boughs With Rose and Lilly to impale thy Brows Thus ignorant I mus'd not conscious yet Of what by Death was done and ruthlesse Fate Amidst these Trances Fame thy losse doth sound And through my Eares gives to my Heart a wound With stretched-out Armes I sought thee to embrace But clasp'd amaz'd a Coffin in thy Place A Coffin of our Joyes which had the Trust Which told that thou wert come but chang'd to Dust Scarce even when felt could I beleeve this wrack Nor that thy Time and Glory Heavens would breake Now since I cannot see my Alcons Face And find nor Vows nor Prayers to have place With guilty Stars this Mountaine shall become To me a sacred Altar and a Tombe To famous Alcon here as Daies Monthâ— Yeares Do circling glide I sacrifice will teares Here spend my remnant Time exil'd from Mirth Till Death at last turne Monarch of my Earth Shepheards on Forth and you by Doven Rocks Which use to sing and sport and keep your Flocks Pay Tribute here of Teares ye never had To aggravate your Moanes a cause more sad And to their sorrows hither bring your Mands Charged with sweetest flow'rs and with pure Hands Faire Nymphs the blushing Hyacinth and Rose Spred on the Place his Relicts do enclose Weave Garlands to his Memory and put Over his Hearse a Verse in Cypres cut Vertue did dye Goodnesse but harme did give After the noble Alcon ceas'd to live Friendship an Earthquake suffer'd losing Him Loves brightest Constellation turned Dim Hymne SAviour of Mankind Man Emanuel Who sinlesse died for Sin who
Their names doth soare on our fames overthrow Mark'd is our lightnesse whilst their wits are praised In silent thoughts who can no secret cover He may say we but not well be a Lover III. YE who with curious numbers sweetest art Frame Dedall Nets our beauty to surprize Telling strange Castles builded in the Skies And tales of Câ—pidsâ—ow â—ow and Cupids Dart Well howsoever ye act your fained smart Molesting quiet eares with tragick cries When you accuse our chastities best part Nam'd cruelty ye seem not halfe too wise Yea ye your selves it deem most worthy praise Beauties best guard that Dragon which doth keep Hesperian fruit the spur in you does raise That Delion wit that other waies may sleep To cruell Nymphs your Lines do fame afford Oft many pitifull not one poore word IV. IF it be love to wake out all the night And watchfull eyes drive out in dewie moanes And when the Sun brings to the world his light To waste the Day in teares and bitter groanes If it be love to dim weake reasons beame With clouds of strange desire and make the mind In hellish agonies a heav'n to dreame Still seeking Comforts where but griefes we find If it be love to staine with wanton thought A spotlesse chastity and make it try More furious flames than his whose cunning wrought That brazen Bull where he intomb'd did fry Then sure is Love the causer of such woes Be ye our Lovers or our mortall foes V. ANd would you then shake off Loves golden chain With which it is best freedome to be bound And Cruell do ye seek to heale the Wound Of Love which hath such sweet and pleasant paine All that is subject unto natures raigne In Skies above or on this lower round When it is long and far sought and hath found Doth in Dâ—cadeâ—s fall and slack remaine Behold the Moon how gay her face doth grow Till she kisse all the Sun then doth decay See how the Seas tumultuously do flow Till they embrace lov'd bankes then â—ost away So is 't with love unlesse you love me still O do not thinke I le yeeld unto your will CAres charming sleep son of the â—able night Brother to death in silent darknesse borne Destroy my languish e're the day be light With darke forgetting of my cares returne And let the day be long enough to mourne The ship-wrack of my ill adventured Youth Let watry eyes suffice to waile their scorne Without the troubles of the nights untruth Cease dreames fond image of my fond desirâ—â— To modell forth the passions of to morrow Let never rising Sun approve your teares To add more griefe to aggravate my sorrow Still let me sleep embracing clouds in vaine And never wake to feele the daies disdaine An Epitaph of one named Margaret IN shells and gold Pearles are not kept alone A Margaret here lies beneath a stone A Margaret that did excell in worth All those rich Gems the Indies both send forth Who had she liv'd when good was lov'd of men Had made the Graces foure the Muses ten And forc'd those happy times her daies that claim'd From her to be the age of Pearle still nam'd She was the richest Jewell of her kind Grac'd with more lustre than she left behind All Goodnesse vertue Bounty and could cheare The saddest minds now Nature knowing here How things but shown then hidden are lov'd best This Margaret ' shrin'd in this marble Chest. Another Epitaph on a Lady THis Beauty faire which death in dust did turne And clos'd so soon within a Coffin sad Did passe like Lightning like the thunder burne So little like so much true vertue had Heavens but to shew their might here made it shine And when admir'd then in the worlds disdaine O teares O griefe did call it back againe Lest earth should vaunt she kept what was divine On a Drunkard NOr Aramanthes nor Roses do 〈◊〉 Unto this Hearse but 〈◊〉 and Wine For that same thirst though dead yâ—â— doth him piâ—e Which made him so carrouse while he drew breath Aretinus Epitaph HEre Aretine lies most bitter gall Who whilst he lived spoke evill of all Only of God the Arranâ— Scot Naught said â—ut that he knew him not Comparison of his thoughts to Pearls WIth open shells in seas on heavenly dew A shining Oyster lusciously doth feed And then the birth of that aethereall seed Shews when conceiv'd if Skies looke dark or blew So do my thoughts Coelestiall twins of you At whose aspect they first begin and breed When they came forth to light demonstrate true If ye then smil'd or lowr'd in mourning weed Pearles then are orient fram'd and faire in forme If heavens in their conceptions do look cleare But if they thunder or do threat a storme They sadly darke and cloudy do appeare Right so my thoughts and so my notes do change Sweet if ye smile and hoarse if ye look strange All changeth THe angry Winds not aye Do cuff the roaring Deep And though heavens often weep Yet do they smile for joy when comes dismay Frosts do not ever kill the pleasant flow'rs And Love hath sweets when gone are all the soures This said a shepheard closing in his armes His deare who blusht to feele Loves new alarmes Sileâ—â—s to King Midas THe greatest gift that from their lofty thrones The all-governing pow'rs to man can give Is that he never breath or breathing once A suckling end his daies and leave to live For then he neither knows the woe nor joy Of life nor feares the Stygian Lakes annoy To his amorous thought SWeet wanton thought who art of beauty borne And who on beauty feedst and sweet desire Like Taper flee still circling and still turne About that flame that all so much admire That heavenly faire which doth out-blush the morne Those Ivory hands those threads of golden wire Thou still surroundest yet dar'st not aspire Sure thou dost well that place not to come neare Nor see the Majesty of that faire Court For if thou saw'st what wonders there resort The poore intelligence that moves that spheare Like soules ascending to those Joyes above Back never wouldst thou turne nor thence remove What can we hope for more what more injoy Since fairest things thus soonest have their end And as on bodies shadows do attend Soon all our blisse is followed with annoy Yet she 's not dead she lives where she did love Her memory on earth her soule above Verses on the late William Earle of Pembrook I. THe doubtfull feares of Change so fright my Mind Though raised to the highest joy in Love As in this slippery state more griefe I find Than they who never such a blisse did prove But fed with lingring hopes of â—uture Gaine Dreame not what 't is to doubt a Losers Paine II. Desire a safer Harbour is than Feare And not to rise lesse danger than to fall The want of Jewels we far better beare Than so possest at once to lose them all Unsatisfied