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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A19528 The poetical recreations of Mr. Alexander Craig of Rosecraig Craig, Alexander, 1567?-1627. 1609 (1609) STC 5959; ESTC S105002 11,162 33

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And wilt thou needst sweet Sant be gone and so Bereaue south-Britan of so rare a blis Yes thou must go J see there is no stay And take ten thousand Thousand hearts away Take then my heart my better part with thee My wishes vow's my prayers all these all For J am thine devoted till J die And still shall beare the bloodie yock as thrall And when my head shall turne to hoarie gray The world shall see that I shall serue An Hay A DISSVVASION TO HIS friend from his intended mariage FAir famous I le where Zoroastres raign'd Where Bactru● once the statelie cittie stood VVhich when th'ould name Artaspe was disdain'd VVas Bactria cal'd from fertill Bactrus flood VVhere some-time Ceter Arams sonne began Of thousand citties the foundation sure In thee the wyues abuse the maried man And both with slaue and stranger play the whoore The Dame with Distaff beats her yeelding Lord And for her pryde but punishment skaips free And poore Acteon dare not speak one word From Bactrian wyues the Lord deliver thee Nor lead a life infamous heart-brock thrall Far better were to wed no wife at all A DESCRIPTION OF A PARdond yet still vnrepenting proditor Plexirtus WHen false and proud Plexirtus did conspire His King and Lord Leonat to dethrone He found the fates were foes to his desire At last when all his bastard-hopes were gone A halter fair about his hals he tyes And on the Prince for pardon still he cryes The Clement King Leonat was contented To pardon all his faults and foull offences And yet we read the Rebell noght repented Saue that he could not practize his pretenses It 's pittie then the Prince can not perceaue Plexirtus was and will be still a knaue EPITAPH OF IOHN FIRST MARques of Hammilton BLest was thy life and blessed didst thou die Thy Oyle was burning and thy Lamp gaue light VVhen lifes prowd foe pale death did summond thee To render earth her due and heavens their right Thogh death did then thy soule and bodie sever Once thou shalt be conjoind and liue for ever Aliud HEre rests within this Tomb of truth th'vnm atched zeale The father the faithful friēd of Church cōmon wel In storme and calme inclind to doe his Kings command Of peace the parent child of Mars cheef glorie of the land FORTVNA SAEVO LAETA NEGOtio transmutat incertos honores STrange are the changes of this changing age The cloun turns knight the knight again turns colun Now is he Lord who was of late a page And he that threatned all is now thrown doun Thrise happie he whose heart can be content To serue his God in peace with sober rent To his afflicted friend IN wether fair and in a temperat spring The waikest bird with warbling songs will soare But in a srtome or winters rage to sing With mirrie notes deserues a praise much more Thy spring is gone thy winter growes O than Sing sweetlie now and shew thy selfe a man To his fortunate friend THe Fox and Kat were walking by the way As Aesop fains and lo for all his wits The Fox became to hungrie hounds a pray Whilst in a trie the Kat securlie sits Since Foxes false dear friend must fall and die Climb with the Kat and make the truth thy trie Vivitur parvo bene HE that can walk on ground that 's fair and plane Shall seldome fall or if he chance to fall He measures but his lenth he 'ill rise agane And haue no harme nor any hurt at all But he must fall of force that climbs too hie And if he fall it 's ten to one he 'ill die Heigh hoised sailes giue vantage to the srtome And if thy state be stately large and fair The farer mark for mischief to deforme With spightfull sport proud Fortun play 's her there Fair marks are hit with shots and shafts mischivous Which make the wounds more deep much more grievous Contented Codrus with his Cuntrie Dame Suppose his Farme were set on fire he fear 's not His wife and he will warme them with the flame Come what can come his compts are cast he cares not Jf want and wealth were alwaies at my will Away with wealth let me be Codrus still A Prayer for his imprisoned friend THe famous Persians had a forme we reed That if a Noble were condemd to dee They spar'd himselfe and hang'd his cloaths with speed Poore prisoner God grant the like to thee Vcalegon his house is set on fire A neighbor kinde wold quench lest it burne nyer When Pollio proud did to his feast requyre Augustus Caesar at a solemne time He needs wold kill a serving slaue in yre For breaking of a banquet glasse small crime But Caesar said poore slaue thou shalt not d ee Th' offence is naght feare is eneugh for thee To Idea for his long absence ATtilius ruler of the Roman host Beg'd leaue his wife and children deare to see His poore effairs he did performe with post And made returne with all the hast might bee He was for this no run-away but rather A loving husband and a faithfull father J haue like him wise Dame at home a wife With whom in peace the poasting hours I spend Yet will J loue thee whill J haue a life And till J die my loue shall never end My poore Adoes withdraw me oft from thee Yet where thou art my heart shall ever bee To eloquent Erantina CLeombrotus a Heathen man did heare Wise Plato with such reverence and respeck As for the loue he to his lessons beare He went abrod kinde man and brok his neck Thy charming words inchant me so that J Doe nothing now but mourne sigh weep and die To his absent and loving Lesbia DEare heart dear heart dear dear dear heart againe More dear then writ can shew or waxe can seale O! if thou knew the care the woe the paine I felt since last I tooke from thee fair-well The night in black chimerick thoghts I spend Ere Phlegon rise I wish the day to end The dark is lothsome and the day semes long Because alas J am not where thou art This is not mine but frowning Fortunes wrong Yet hope deare heart vp-holds my dying heart Look then for me before few dayes take end Till when my thoghts to thine I doe commend To absent Idea WIth puissant pow'r when princely Pompey went And made him for Pharsalic battell bowne With heavie hearts his sogeors did lament And oft look'd back to Rome their natiue towne Each in him selfe a civil combat felt To leaue the place wher friends wiues childrē dwelt I may for this be deem'd a Roman borne I am so full of kindnesse and of loue In deepest sort deare heart I dare be sworne My minde from thee no distance may remoue And for thy sake beare witnesse naked God I loue thy Bonus wherein thou mak'st abod To Idea at her bownes AH whither now sweet Sant art thou retired Souls-raviser alas
where art thou gone Thy bewtie now can be no more admired Since thou delightst to lurke and liue alone Now Hermit-like thou hantst the more the pittie And for the Farme forbear's the famous Cittie Look to thy selfe thou dwel'st too neere the sea Neptun no doubt will from those rocks bereaue thee And with his wife divorse for loue of thee Yet am I glade none but a God must haue thee VVhen winds and waves and all are at thy will Proue not vnkinde J pray thee loue me still TO HIS BANISHED FRIEND TWo wofull weeds the mother Church must weare One Crimson rid the other mourning black The black betokneth sorrow pane and care The rid bods death fearce persecution wrack It maters not what rags she beare abrod Once she'ill be cloth'd in robs of white with God To his singular good Lord and Master LOng mai'st thou liue an argument of praise A lordlie subject to my loving pen That on thy worth the wondring world may gaise A magistrat admir'd amongst all men Yea more and more heavens grant thee from aboue The Makers mercie and the Masters loue Auream quisquis mediocritatem IT merits praise to manage litle well A cunning coachman turns in litle roume In poore estate a rich content I feell And smyle to see a wretches wealth consume J'ill studie then to steward what J haue And not be curious more and more to craue His regrate for the lose of time at Court O How Time slips and slelie slids away God is forgot and woe is me therefore J waste the night and weare away the day I sleepe dres feed talke sport and doe no more Far better were with care to haue redemed Nor sell for noght the thing I most estemed To his aspyring friend SInce charge and honor march together still For charge but honour were a toyle too great And honor but a charge were ease at will To want them both is not the worst estate I loath those loads which lightnesse first pretend But break the neck before the journeys end Nulla dies sine linea THe standing poole will quicklie stink and rott The currant streame is cleanlie both and cleare The idle man is Sathans prey God wott A verteous minde the Devill darr not draw neare My fantasies can profit few and yet It hurteth none but doth me good to writ The praise of Glad-povertie THree sorts of men vnto the market go One buyes one selles an other doth behold Great greef and care is in the former two Th'expectant waiks secure and vncontrold He liu's poore man contented with his lot Vsing the world as if he vs'd it not His vnambitious minde THree things there be for which J'ill not contend The Way the wall and Tables highest seat What foole is he will frown or yet offend For any place so hee can reach his meat But in good faith the idlest strife of all Js in my judgement for the way or wall To his friend who seemd sorie when he left Court I Scorne to liue at Court because J spy The wicked heaps vp wealth the foole hath grace The wise man weeps and in disgrace must die And vanitie must march in vertues place Far better were on shore secure t' abide Nor saill in vane against both wind and tide Against Pryde TH' ambitious man no greater foe can haue Then is himselfe for whilst he still aspires He grinds his heart for greef vnto the graue With foolish hopes with fear's and fond desires God grant my pryde may grow to this degree Jn earth his child in heaven his Sant to bee To vnfortunat and pure Aemilian at Court EMilian begs with heart half-brok for sorrow Yet finds not frute at all but long delay As leaue me now or come againe to morrow My lasure serues not yet I pray thee stay None pitties thee Aemilian do not griue They get no thing that haue no thing to giue That he neither loues to be too gladnor too sad IOyes come like oxen heavie peas'd and slo But tak their leaue like horses running post Greifs come at post on foot againe they go And leaue sad discontentment with their host Both Ioys and Griefs as passingers J'il vse They shall not be my ghaists if J can chuse His contents at his Tugur WHen lose of Tyme at Court was all my gane To take my leaue J thoght it was my best And in some privat mansion to remaine Where J might frie from Envyes rage take rest Now blest be God no Portar bars my doore By day by night none keeps me but my kurre Against ignorance and ill example THe law of God is Lanterne full of light And good example beares this Lantern still Which shews the way to walk and march vpright To doe all good and to decline from ill Without this light who walks he can not see And such will God shall be no gyde to thee To Mistres Hartside at Orknay her natall soyle PRoscribed Orcas though J hate thy forms J must commend and praise thy courage still I saw thee proue both wise and stout in storms And thou art barren sore against my will For had thou sonnes of thy Amazon stamp They might be Captains of the Emperors camp Perswasions of oertainties are vnnecessarie NO greater fools then Philodoxes fond And such as loue opinions of their own Thy wit wise Plato when I think vpon'd Made men to doubt on things that were well known These Why How What mad questions of thy schools Wold make the wise men of our age seeme fools Against drunkards and lichers IN sinfull Sodome to liue cleane and poore Jn Asia chast amid allurements such To hate in Rome the bordell and the whoore And to be still abstemius with a Dutch Do'th merit praise yet this much with correction J find but few can haunt them but infection To his Lord and Master G. E. Dunbar ALas that Time should be a foe to fame To clip the wings of true report in rage Alas that th' earth should march a noble name Like to a bird that 's compast with a kage Fame clip'd with time hemb'd with earth's embrace By Poets yet out strips both time and place Thy fame dear Lord is frie from all disgrace Still be it so till fire dissolue this frame Till when about the worlds broad spatious face My ryms shall run t'immortalize thy Name Foill to thy fame no time no place shall giue So long as Craig or yet his lines can liue Against ingratitude FIrst let me die before I proue ingrate No let the earth devore me ere J die Before I liue in such a wretched state To haue no hand but one no tongue to cry Vnthankfull mouths are graues then if J take I will at least giue praise and prayers back To his Lord and Mister to be ware of envy DEepe danger lyes deare Lord in smoothest looks Envy is false and waits thee at thy back The poysning bate is hung at golden hooks They serue