Finding Menalcas asks him thus the Cause Corydon Thee have I sought in every shady Grove By purling Streams and in each private Place Where we have us'd to sit and talk of Love. Why do I find thee leaning on an Oak By Lightning blasted and by Thunder rent What cursed Chance has turn'd thy chearful Mind And why wilt thou have woes unknown to me But I would Comfort and not chide my Friend Tell me thy Grief and let me bear a Part. Menalcas Young Astrophel is dead Dear Astrophel He that could Tune so well his charming Pipe To hear whose Lays Nymphs left their Crystal Spring The Fawns and Dryades forsook the Woods And hearing all were ravish'd Swiftest Streams with-held their Course to hear the Heavenly Sound And murmur'd when by following Waves prest on The following Waves forcing their Way to hear Oft the Fierce wolf pursuing of the Lamb Hungry and wildly certain of his Prey Left the Pursuit rather than lose the Sound Of his alluring Pipe The Harmless Lamb Forgot his Nature and forsook his Fear Stood by the Wolf and listned to the Sound He could command a general Peace and Nature would obey This Youth this Youth is dead the same Disease That carried sweet Orinda from the World Seiz'd upon Astrophel Oh Let these Tears Be offer'd to the Memory of my Friend And Let my Speech give way a while to Sighs Corydon Weep on Menalcas for his Fate requires The Tears of all Mankind General the Loss And General be the Grief except by Fame I knew him not but surely this is he Who Sung learn'd * Spencer and Johnson Collin's or great * Spencer and Johnson Aegon 's Praise Dead ere he liv'd yet have new Life from him Did he not mourn lamented * Rochester Bion's Death In Verse equal to what Bion wrote Menalcas Yes this was he oh that I say he was He that could sing the Shepherds deeds so well Whether to praise the Good he turn'd his Pen Or lasht the egregious Folly of the Bad In both he did excell His happy genius bid him take the Pen And dictated more fast than he could write Sometimes becoming Negligence adorn'd His Verse and Nature shew'd they were her own Yet Art he us'd where Art could useful be But sweated not to be correctly dull Corydon Had Fate allow'd his Life a longer thread Adding Experience to that wondrous Fraught of Youthful Vigor how would he have wrote Menalcas We wish for Life not thinking of its Cares I mourn his Death the loss of such a Friend But for himself he dyed in the best Hour And carryed with him ev'ry mans Applause Youth meets not with Detractions blotting hand Nor suffers ought from Envy's canker'd Mind Had he known Age he would have seen the World Put on its ugliest but its truest Face Malice had watch'd the Droppings of his Pen And ignorant Youths who would for Criticks pass Had thrown their scornful Jests upon his Vene And censur'd what they did not understand Such was not my Dear Astrophel he 's dead And I shall quickly follow him what 's Death But an eternal Sleep without a Dream Wrapt in a lasting Darkness and exempt From Hope and Fear and ev'ry idle Passion Corydon See thy Complaints have mov'd the pitying Skies They mourn the Death of Astrophel in Tears Thy Sheep return'd from straying round they gaze And wonder at thy mourning Drive them Home And tempt thy troubled mind with easing Sleep To Morrow chearful Light may give thee Comfort To the MEMORY of Mr. JOHN OLDHAM BUT that 't is dangerous for Man to be Too busie with Immutable Decree I could dear Friend ev'n blame thy cruel Doom That lent so much to be requir'd so soon The Flow'rs in which the Meads are drest so gay Altho' they are short liv'd they live a Day Thou in the Noon of Life wert snatch't away Though not before thy Verse had Wonders shown And bravely made the Age to come thine own The Company of Beauty Wealth and Wine Were not so charming not so sweet as thine They quickly perish yours was still the same An Everlasting but a Lambent Flame Which something so resistless did impart It still through ev'ry Ear won ev'ry Heart Unlike the Wretch that strives to get Esteem Nay thinks it fine and Janty to blaspheme And can be witty on no other Theme Ah Foolish men whom thou did'st still despise That must be wicked to be counted wise But thy Converse was from this Errour free And yet 't was ev'ry thing true Wit can be None had it but ev'n with a Tear does own The Soul of dear Society is gone But while we thus thy Native Sweetness sing We ought not to forget thy Native Sting Thy Satyr spar'd no Follies nor no Crimes Satyr the best Reformer of the Times How wide shoot they that strive to blast thy Fame By saying that thy Verse was rough and lame They would have Satyr their Compassion move And writ so plyant nicely and so smooth As if the Muse were in a Flux of Love But who of Knaves and Fops and Fools would sing Must Force and Fire and Indignation bring For 't is no Satyr if it has no Sting In short who in that Field would Famous be Must think and write like Juvenal and Thee Let others boast of all the Mighty Nine To make their Labours with more Lustre shine I never had no other Muse but Thee Ev'n thou wert all the Mighty Nine to me 'T was thy dear Friendship did my Breast inspire And warm'd it first with a Poetick Fire But 't is a warmth that does with Thee expire For when the Sun is set that guides the Day The Traveller must stop or lose his way Robert Gould CONTENTS COunterpart to the Satyr against Vertue Page 1 Virg. Eclogue VIII The Enchantment 13 Vpon the Marriage of the Prince of Orange with the Lady Mary 35 An Ode for an Annversary of Musick on Caecilia's Day 43 To Madam L. E. upon her Recovery from a fit of Sickness 46 On the Death of Mrs. Katharine Kingscourt a Child of excellent Parts and Piety 55 A Sunday-thought in Sickness 59 To the Memory of Mr. Charles Morwent 71 To the Memory of that worthy Gentleman Mr. Harman Atwood 115 COUNTERPART TO THE SATYR against VERTVE In Person of the Author I. PArdon me Vertue whatsoe'er thou art For sure thou of the God-head art a part And all that is of him must be The very Deity Pardon if I in ought did thee blaspheme Or injure thy pure Sacred Name Accept unfeign'd Repentance Prayers and Vows The best Atonement of my penitent humble Muse The best that Heaven requires or Mankind can produce All my Attempts hereafter shall at thy Devotion be Ready to consecrate my Ink and very Blood to thee Forgive me ye blest Souls that dwell above Where you by its reward the worth of Vertue prove Forgive if you can do 't who know no Passion now but Love And
Nor know to frame a skilful Wish more great Nor think a higher Blessing in the Gift of Fate AN ODE For an Anniversary of MUSICK on S. Cecilia's Day I. BEgin the Song your Instruments advance Tune the Voice and Tune the Flute Touch the silent sleeping Lute And make the Strings to their own Measures dance Bring gentlest Thoughts that into Language glide Bring softest Words that into Numbers slide Let every Hand and every Tongue To make the Noble Consort throng Let all in one harmonious Note agree To frame the mighty Song For this is Musicks sacred Jubile II. Hark how the wak'ned Strings resound And break the yielding Air The ravish'd Sense how pleasingly they wound And call the listning Soul into the Ear Each Pulse beats time and every Heart With Tongue and Fingers bears a part By Harmonies entrancing Power When we are thus wound up to Ecstasie Methinks we mount methinks we tower And seem to antedate our future Bliss on high III. How dull were Life how hardly worth our care But for the Charms that Musick lends How faint its Pleasures would appear But for the Pleasure which our Art attends Without the Sweets of Melody To tune our vital Breath Who would not give it up to Death And in the silent Grave contented lye IV. Musick 's the Cordial of a troubled Breast The softest Remedy that Grief can find The gentle Spell that charms our Care to rest And calms the ruffled Passions of the Mind Musick does all our Joy refine It gives the Relish to our Wine 'T is that gives Rapture to our Love And Wings Devotion to a pitch Divine 'T is our chief Bliss on Earth and half our Heaven above Chorus Come then with tuneful Throat and String The Praises of our Art let 's sing Let 's sing to Blest CECILIA's Fame That grac'd this Art and gave this Day its Name With Musick Wine and Mirth conspire To bear a Consort and make up the Choir TO MADAM L. E. Vpon her Recovery from a late Sickness Madam PArdon that with slow Gladness we so late Your wish'd return of Health congratulate Our Joys at first so throng'd to get abroad They hinder'd one another in the crowd And now such haste to tell their Message make They only stammer what they meant to speak You the fair Subject which I am to sing To whose kind Hands this humble joy I bring Aid me I beg while I this Theme pursue For I invoke no other Muse but you Long time had you here brightly shone below With all the Rays kind Heaven could bestow No envious Cloud e're offer'd to invade Your Lustre or compel it to a Shade Nor did it yet by any Sign appear But that you thoroughout Immortal were Till Heaven if Heaven could prove so cruel sent To interrupt the Growth of your content As if it grudg'd those Gifts you did enjoy And would that Bounty which it gave destroy 'T was since your Excellence did envy move In those high Powers and made them jealous prove They thought these Glories should they still have shin'd Unsullied were too much for Woman-kind Which might they write as lasting as they 're Fair Too great for ought but Deities appear But Heaven it may be was not yet compleat And lackt you there to fill your empty Seat. And when it could not fairly woo you hence Turn'd Ravisher and offer'd Violence Sickness did first a formal siege begin And by sure slowness try'd your Life to win As if by lingring methods Heaven meant To chase you hence and tire you to consent But thus in vain Fate did to force resort And next by Storm strove to attack the Fort A Sleep dull as your last did you Arrest And all their Magazines of Life possest No more the Blood its circling course did run But in the Veins like Isicles it hung No more the Heart now void of quickning heat The tuneful March of vital Motion beat Stiffness did into all the Sinews climb And a short Death crept cold through every Limb. All Signs of Life from sight so far withdrew 'T was now thought Popery to pray for you There might you were not that sense lost have seen How your true Death would have resented been A Lethargy like yours each Breast did seize And all by Sympathy catcht your Disease Around you silent Imagery appears And nought in the Spectators moves but Tears They pay what Grief were to your Funeral due And yet dare hope Heaven would your Life renew Mean while all means all Drugs prescribed are Which the decays of Health or Strength repair Medicines so powerful they new Souls would save And Life in long-dead Carcasses retrieve But these in vain they rougher Methods try And now you 're Martyr'd that you may not die Sad Scene of Fate when Tortures were your gain And 't was a kindness thought to wish you pain As if the slackned string of Life run down Could only by the Rack be screw'd in tune But Heav'n at last grown conscious that its pow'r Could scarce what was to die with you restore And loth to see such Glories overcome Sent a Post-Angel to repeal your doom Strait Fate obey'd the Charge which Heaven sent And gave this first dear Proof it could Repent Triumphant Charms what may not you subdue When Fate 's your Slave and thus submits to you It now again the new-broke Thread does knit And for another Clew her Spindle fit And life 's hid spark which did unquencht remain Caught the fled light and brought it back again Thus you reviv'd and all our Joy with you Reviv'd and found their Resurrection too Some only griev'd that what was deathless thought They saw so near to Fatal ruin brought Now crowds of Blessings on that happy hand Whose skill could eager Destiny withstand Whose learned Pow'r has rescu'd from the Grave That Life which 't was a Miracle to save That Life which were it thus untimely lost Had been the fairest Spoil Death e'r could boast May he henceforth be God of Healing thought By whom such good to you and us was brought Altars and Shrines to him are justly due Who shew'd himself a God by raising you But say fair Saint for you alone can know Whither your Soul in this short flight did go Went it to antidate that Happiness You must at last tho late we hope possess Inform us lest we should your Fate belye And call that Death which was but Ecstasie The Queen of Love we 're told once let us see That Goddesses from Wounds could not be free And you by this unwish'd Occasion show That they like Mortal us can Sickness know Pitty that Heav'n should all its Titles give And yet not let you with them ever live You 'd lack no point that makes a Deity If you could like it too Immortal be And so you are half boasts a Deathless State Although your frailer Part must yield to Fate By every breach in that fair lodging made Its blest Inhabitant
you unhappy happy few Who strive with Life and Humane Miseries below Forgive me too If I in ought disparag'd them or else discourag'd you II. Blest Vertue whose Almighty Power Does to our fallen Race restore All that in Paradise we lost and more Lifts us to Heaven and makes us be The Heirs and Image of the Deity Soft gentle Yoak which none but resty Fools refuse Which before freedom I would ever chuse Easie are all the Bonds that are impos'd by thee Easie as those of Lovers are If I with ought less pure may thee compare Nor do they force but only guide our Liberty By such soft Ties are Spirits above confin'd So gentle is the Chain which them to Good does bind Sure Card whereby this frail and tott'ring Bark we steer Thro' Life's tempestuous Ocean here Thro' all the tossing Waves of Fear And dangerous Rocks of black Despair Safe in thy Conduct unconcern'd we move Secure from all the threatning Storms that blow From all Attacks of Chance below And reach the certain Haven of Felicity above III. Best Mistris of our Souls whose Charms and Beauties last And are by very Age increast By which all other Glories are defac'd Thou' rt thy own Dowry and a greater far Than All the Race of Woman-kind e'er brought Tho' each of them like the first Wife were fraught And half the Universe did for her Portion share That tawdry Sex which giddy senseless we Thro' Ignorance so vainly Deifie Are all but glorious Brutes when un-endowed with thee 'T is Vice alone the truer Jilt and worse In whose Enjoyment tho' we find A flitting Pleasure yet it leaves behind A Pain and Torture in the Mind And claps the wounded Conscience with incurable Remorse Or else betrays us to the great Trepans of Humane Kind IV. 'T is Vice the greater Thraldom harder Drudgery Whereby deposing Reason from its gentle Sway That rightful Sovereign which we should obey We undergo a various Tyranny And to un-number'd servile Passions Homage pay These with Aegyptian Rigor us enslave And govern with unlimited command They make us endless Toil pursue And still their doubled Tasks renew To push on our too hasty Fate and build our Grave Or which is worse to keep us from the Promis'd Land. Nor may we think our Freedom to retrieve We struggle with our heavy Yoak in vain In vain we strive to break that Chain Unless a Miracle relieve Unless th' Almighty Wand enlargement give We never must expect Delivery Till Death the universal Writ of Ease does set us free V. Some sordid Avarice in Vassallage confines Like Roman Slaves condemn'd to th' Mines These are in its harsh Bridewel lash'd and punished And with hard Labour scarce can earn their Bread. Others Ambition that Imperious Dame Exposes cruelly like Gladiators here Upon the World's Great Theatre Thro' Dangers and thro' Blood they wade to Fame To purchase grinning Honour and an empty Name And some by Tyrant-Lust are Captive led And with false Hopes of Pleasure fed 'Till tir'd with Slavery to their own Desires Life's o'er-charg'd Lamp goes out and in a Snuff expires VI. Consider we the little Arts of Vice The Stratagems and Artifice Whereby she does attract her Votaries All those Allurements and those Charms Which pimp Transgressors to her Arms Are but foul Paint and counterfeit Disguise To palliate her own conceal'd Deformities And for false empty Joys betray us to true solid Harms In vain she would her Dowry boast Which clog'd with Legacies we never gain But with unvaluable Cost Which got we never can retain But must the greatest part be lost To the great Bubbles Age or Chance again 'T is vastly over-balanc'd by the Joynture which we make In which our lives our souls our All is set at stake Like silly Indians foolish we With a known Cheat a losing Traffick hold Whilst led by an ill-judging Eye W' admire a trifling Pageantry And merchandize our Jewels and our Gold For worthless Glass and Beads or an Exchange's Frippery If we a while maintain th' expensive Trade Such mighty Impost on the Cargo's laid Such a vast Custom to be paid We 're forc'd at last like wretched Bankrupts to give out Clapt up by Death and in Eternal Durance shut VII What art thou Fame for which so eagerly we strive What art thou but an empty Shade By the Reflection of our Actions made Thou unlike others never follow'st us alive But like a Ghost walk'st only after we are dead Posthumous Toy vain after-Legacy Which only ours can be When we our selves no more are we Fickle as vain who dost on vulgar Breath depend Which we by dear Experience find More changeable more veering than th' unconstant Wind. What art thou Gold that cheat'st the Miser's eyes Which he does so devoutly idolize For whom he all his Rest and Ease does sacrifice 'T is Use alone can all thy Value give And he from that no Benefit can e'er receive Curst Mineral near Neighb'ring Hell begot Which all th' Infection of thy damned Neighbourhood hast brought Thou Bawd to Murthers Rapes Treachery And every greater Name of Villany From thee they all derive their Stock and Pedigree Thou the lewd World with all its crying Crimes dost store hardly wilt allow the Devil the cause of more And what is Pleasure which does most beguile That Syren which betrays us with a flattering Smile We listen to the treacherous Harmony Which sings but our own Obsequy The Danger unperceiv'd till Death draw nigh Till drowning we want Pow'r to ' scape the fatal Enemy VIII How frantick is the wanton Epicure Who a perpetual Surfeit will endure Who places all his chiefest Happiness In the Extravagancies of Excess Which wise Sobriety esteems but a Disease O mighty envied Happiness to eat Which fond mistaken Sots call Great Poor Frailty of our Flesh which we each day Must thus repair for fear of ruinous decay Degrading of our Nature where vile Brutes are fain To make and keep up Man Which when the Paradise above we gain Heav'n thinks too great an Imperfection to retain By each Disease the sickly Joy's destroy'd At every Meal it 's nauseous and cloy'd Empty at best as when in Dream enjoy'd When cheated by a slumbering Imposture we Fancy a Feast and great Regalio's by And think we taste and think we see And riot on imaginary Luxury IX Grant me O Virtue thy more solid lasting Joy Grant me the better Pleasures of the Mind Pleasures which only in pursuit of thee we find Which Fortune cannot marr nor Chance destroy One Moment in thy blest Enjoyment is Worth an Eternity of that tumultuous Bliss Which we derive from Sense Which often cloys and must resign to Impotence Grant me but this how will I triumph in my happy State Above the Changes and Reverse of Fate Above her Favours and her Hate I 'll scorn the worthless Treasures of Peru And those of t' other Indies too I 'll pity Caesar's self with all his Trophies and
has a Life beyond it and the Grave and something in it prompts me to believe its immortality A Residence it must have somewhere else when it has left this Carcase and another State to pass into unchangeable and everlasting as it self after its Separation This Condition must be good or bad according to its Actions and Deserts in this Life for as it owes its Being to some Infinite Power that created it I well suppose it his Vassal and oblig'd to live by his Law and as certainly conclude that according to the keeping or breaking of that Law 't is to be rewarded or punish'd hereafter This Diversity of Rewards and Punishments makes the two Places Heaven and Hell so often mention'd in Scripture and talked of in Pulpits Of the later my Fears too cruelly convince me and the Anticipation of its Torment which I already feel in my own Conscience There is there is a Hell and damned Fiends and a never-dying Worm and that Sceptick that doubts of it may find 'em all within my single Breast I dare not any longer with the Atheist disbelieve them or think 'em the Clergy's Bugbears invented as Nurses do frightful Names for their Children to scare 'em into Quietness and Obedience How oft have I triumph'd in my unconcern'd and sear'd insensibility How oft boasted of that unhappy suspected Calm which like that of the dead Sea prov'd only my Curse and a treacherous Ambush to those Storms which at present and will for ever I dread shipwreck my Quiet and Hopes How oft have I rejected the Advice of that Bosom-Friend and drowned its Alarms in the Noise of a tumultuous Debauch or by stupifying Wine like some condemn'd Malefactor arm'd my self against the Apprehensions of my certain Doom Now now the Tyrant awakes and comes to pay at once all Arrears of Cruelty At last but too late like drowning Mariners I see the gay Monsters which inveigled me into my Death and Destruction Oh the gnawing Remorse of a rash unguarded unconsidering Sinner Oh how the Ghosts of former Crimes affright my haunted Imagination and make me suffer a thousand Racks and Martyrdoms I see methinks the Jaws of Destruction gaping wide to swallow me and I like one sliding on Ice tho I see the Danger cannot stop from running into it My Fancy represents to me a whole Legion of Devils ready to tear me in pieces numberless as my Sins or Fears and whither Alas whither shall I fly for Refuge Where shall I retreat and take Sanctuary Shall I call the Rocks and Mountains to cover me or bid the Earth yawn wide to its Centre and take me in Poor shift of escaping Almighty Justice Distracting Frenzy that would make me believe Contradictions and hope to fly out of the reach of him whose Presence is every where not excluded Hell it self for he is there in the effects of his Vengeance Shall I invoke some Power infinite as that that created me to reduce me to nothing again and rid me at once of my Being and all that tortures it Oh no 't is in vain I must be forced into Being to keep me fresh for Torment and retain Sense only to feel Pain I must be adying to all Eternity and live ever to live ever wretched Oh that Nature had placed me in the Rank of things that have only a bare Existence or at best an Animal Life and never given me a Soul and Reason which now must contribute to my Misery and make me envy Brutes and Vegetables Would the Womb that bare me had been my Prison till now or I stept out of 't it into my Grave and saved the Expences and Toil of a long and tedious Journey where Life affords nothing of Accommodations to invite ones stay Happy had I been if I had expired with my first Breath and enter'd the Bill of Mortality as soon as the World Happy if I had been drowned in my Font and that Water which was to Regenerate and give me New Life had prov'd Mortal in another Sense I had then died without any Guilt of my own but what I brought into the World with me and that too atton'd for I mean that which I contracted from my first Parents my unhappiness rather than Fault inasmuch as I was fain to be born of a Sinning Race Then I had never enhaunc'd it with acquired Guilt never added those innumerable Crimes which must make up my Indictment at the Grand Audit. Ungrateful Wretch I 've made my Sins as numerous as those Blessings and Mercies the Almighty Bounty has conferr'd upon me to oblige and lead me to Repentance How have I abused and misimployed those Parts and Talents which might have render'd me serviceable to Mankind and repaid an Interest of Glory to their Donor How ill do they turn to account which I have made the Patrons of Debauchery and Pimps and Panders to Vice How oft have I broke my Vows to my Great Creator which I would be conscientious of keeping to a silly Woman a Creature beneath my self What has all my Religion been but an empty Parade and Shew Either an useful Hypocrisie taken up for Interest or a gay specious Formality worn in Complaisance to Custom and the Mode and as changeable as my Cloaths and their Fashion How oft have I gone to Church the place where we are to pay him Homage and Duty as to an Assignation or Play only for Diversion or at best as I must ere long for ought I know with my Soul sever'd from my Body How I tremble at the Remembrance as if I could put the Sham upon Heaven or a God were to be imposed on like my Fellow-Creature And dare I convicted of these High Treasons against the King of Glory dare I expect a Reprieve or Pardon Has he Thunder and are not all his Bolts levell'd at my Head to strike me through the very Centre Yes I dare appeal to thee boundless Pity and Compassion My own Instances already tells me that thy Mercy is infinite for I 've done enough to shock Long-sufferance it self and weary out an Eternal Patience I beseech thee by thy soft and gentle Attributes of Mercy and Forgiveness by the last dying Accents of my suffering Deity have Pity on a poor humble prostrate and confessing Sinner And thou great Ransom of lost Mankind who offered'st thy self a Sacrifice to attone our Guilt and redeem our mortgag'd Happiness do thou be my Advocate and intercede for me with the Angry Judge My Pray'rs are heard a glorious Light now shone And lo An Angel-Post comes hast'ning down From Heav'n I see him cut the yielding Air So swift he seems at once both there and here So quick my sight in the pursuit was slow And Thought could scarce so soon the Journey go No angry Message in his Look appears His Face no signs of threatning Vengeance wears Comely his shape of Heavenly Meen and Air Kinder than Smiles of beauteous Virgins are Such he was seen by the blest Maid of old
so pure and just so durable Those feigned Pairs of Faithfulness which claim So high a place in ancient Fame Had they thy better Pattern seen They'd made their Friendship more divine And strove to mend their Characters by thine XX. Yet had this Friendship no advantage been Unless 't were exercis'd within What did thy Love to other Objects tie The same made thy own Pow'rs agree And reconcil'd thy self to thee No Discord in thy Soul did rest Save what its Harmony increast Thy mind did with such regular Calmness move As held resemblance with the greater Mind above Reason there fix'd its peaceful Throne And reign'd alone The Will its easie Neck to Bondage gave And to the ruling Faculty became a Slave The Passions rais'd no Civil Wars Nor discompos'd thee with intestine Jars All did obey And paid Allegiance to its rightful Sway. All threw their resty Tempers by And gentler Figures drew Gentle as Nature in its Infancy As when themselves in their first Beings grew XXI Thy Soul within such silent Pomp did keep As if Humanity were lull'd asleep So gentle was thy Pilgrimage beneath Time's unheard Feet scarce makeless noise Or the soft Journey which a Planet goes Life seem'd all calm as its last Breath A still Tranquillity so husht thy Breast As if some Halcyon were its Guest And there had built her Nest It hardly now enjoys a greater Rest As that smooth Sea which wears the Name of Peace Still with one even Face appears And feels no Tides to change it from its place No Waves to alter the fair Form it bears As that unspotted Sky Where Nile does want of Rain supply Is free from Clouds from Storms is ever free So thy unvary'd mind was always one And with such clear Serenity still shone As caus'd thy little World to seem all temp'rate Zone XXII Let Fools their high Extraction boast And Greatness which no Travel but their Mothers cost Let 'em extol a swelling Name Which their 's by Will and Testament became At best but meer Inheritance As oft the Spoils as Gift of Chance Let some ill-plac't Repute on Scutcheons rear As fading as the Colors which those bear And prize a painted Field Which Wealth as soon as Fame can yield Thou scorn'dst at such low Rates to purchase Worth Nor couldst thou owe it only to thy Birth Thy self-born Greatness was above the Power Of Parents to entail or Fortune to deflower Thy Soul which like the Sun Heaven molded bright Disdain'd to shine with borrow'd Light. Thus from himself th' Eternal Being grew And from no other Cause his Grandeur drew XXIII Howe'er if true Nobility Rather in Souls than in the Blood does lie If from thy better part we Measures take And that the Standard of our Value make Jewels and Stars become low Heraldry To blazon thee Thy Soul was big enough to pity Kings And look'd on Empires as poor humble things Great as his boundless Mind Who thought himself in one wide Globe confin'd And for another pin'd Great as that Spirit whose large Powers rowl Thro' the vast Fabrick of this spatious Bowl And tell the World as well as Man can boast a Soul. XXIV Yet could not this an Haughtiness beget Or thee above the common Level set Pride whose Alloy does best Endowments mar As things most lofty smaller still appear With thee did no Alliance bear Low Merits oft are by too high Esteem bely'd Whose Owners lessen while they raise their Price Thine were above the very Guilt of Pride Above all others and thy own Hyperbole In thee the wid'st Extreams were joyn'd The loftiest and the lowliest Mind Thus tho some part of Heav'ns vast Round Appear but low and seem to touch the Ground Yet 't is well known almost to bound the Spheres 'T is truly held to be above the Stars XXV While thy brave Mind preserv'd this noble Frame Thou stoodst at once secure From all the Flattery and Obloquy of Fame It s rough and gentler Breath were both to thee the same Nor this could thee exalt nor that depress thee lower But thou from thy great Soul on both look'dst down Without the small concernment of a Smile or Frown Heav'n less dreads that it should fir'd be By the weak flitting Sparks that upwards fly Less the bright Goddess of the Night Fears those loud howlings that revile her Light Than thou Malignant Tongues thy Worth should blast Which was too great for Envy's Cloud to overcast 'T was thy brave Method to despise Contempt And make what was the Fault the Punishment What more Assaults could weak Detraction raise When thou couldst Saint disgrace And turn Reproach to Praise So Clouds which would obscure the Sun oft gilded be And Shades are taught to shine as bright as he So Diamonds when envious Night Would shroud their Splendor look most bright And from its Darkness seem to borrow Light. XXVI Had Heav'n compos'd thy mortal Frame Free from Contagion as thy Soul or Fame Could Virtue been but Proof against Death's Arms Th'adst stood unvanquisht by these Harms Safe in a Circle made by thy own Charms Fond Pleasure whose soft Magick oft beguiles Raw unexperienc'd Souls And with smooth Flattery cajoles Could ne'er ensnare thee with her Wiles Or make thee Captive to her soothing Smiles In vain that Pimp of Vice assay'd to please In hope to draw thee to its rude Embrace Thy Prudence still that Syren past Without being pinion'd to the Mast All its Attempts were ineffectual found Heav'n fenc'd thy heart with its own Mound And forc'd the Tempter still from that forbidden Ground XXVII The mad Capricio's of the doating Age Could ne'er in the same Frenzy thee engage But mov'd thee rather with a generous Rage Gallants who their high Breeding prize Known only by their Gallanture and Vice Whose Talent is to court a fashionable Sin And act some fine Transgression with a janty Meen May by such Methods hope the Vogue to win Let those gay Fops who deem Their Infamies Accomplishment Grow scandalous to get Esteem And by Disgrace strive to be eminent Here thou disdainst the common Road Nor wouldst by ought be woo'd To wear the vain Iniquities o' th' Mode Vice with thy Practice did so disagree Thou scarce couldst bear it in thy Theory Thou didst such Ignorance 'bove Knowledg prize And here to be unskill'd is to be wise Such the first Founders of our Blood While yet untempted stood Contented only to know Good. XXVIII Virtue alone did guide thy Actions here Thou by no other Card thy Life didst steer No sly Decoy would serve To make thee from its rigid Dictates swerve Thy Love ne'er thought her worse Because thou hadst so few Competitors Thou couldst adore her when ador'd by none Content to be her Votary alone When 't was proscrib'd the unkind World And to blind Cells and Grotto's hurl'd When thought the Fantom of some crazy Brain Fit for grave Anchorets to entertain A thin Chimaera whom dull Gown-Men frame To gull
is more displaid In that white Snow which over-spreads your Skin We trace the whiter Soul which dwells within Which while you through this shining Hue display Looks like a Star plac'd in the milky way Such the bright Bodies of the Blessed are When they for Raiment cloath'd with Light appear And should you visit now the Seats of Bliss You need not wear another form but this Never did Sickness in such Pomp appear As when it thus your Livery did wear Disease it self look'd amiable here So Clouds which would obscure the Sun oft gilded be And Shades are taught to shine as bright as he Grieve not fair Nymph when in your Glass you trace The marring Footsteps of a pale Disease Regret not that your Cheeks their Roses want Which a few Days shall in full store replant Which whilst your Blood withdraws its guilty Red Tells that you own no Faults that Blushes need The Sun whose Bounty does each Spring restore What Winter from the rifled Meadows tore Which every Morning with an early Ray Paints the young blushing Cheeks of instant Day Whose skill inimitable here below Limns those gay Clouds which form Heav'ns colour'd Bow That Sun shall soon with Interest repay All the lost Beauty Sickness snatch'd away Your Beams like his shall hourly now advance And every Minute their swift Growth enhance Mean while that you no helps of Healths refuse Accept these humble Wishes of the Muse Which shall not of their just Petition fail If she and she's a Goddess ought prevail May no profane Disease henceforth approach This sacred Temple with unhallow'd touch Or with rude sacriledge its frame debauch May these fair Members always happy be In as full Strength and well-set Harmony As the new Foundress of your Sex could boast Ere she by Sin her first Perfection lost May Destiny just to your Merits twine All your smooth Fortunes in a Silken Line And that you may at Heaven late arrive May it to you its largest Bottom give May Heaven with still repeated Favours bless Till it its Pow'r below its Will confess Till Wishes can no more exalt your Fate Nor Poets fansie you more fortunate ON THE DEATH OF Mrs Katharine Kingscourt A Child of Excellent Parts and Piety SHE did She did I saw her mount the Skie And with new Whiteness paint the Galaxy Heav'n her methought with all its Eyes did view And yet acknowledg'd all its Eyes too few Methought I saw in Crowds blest Spirits meet And with loud Welcomes her Arrival greet Which could they grieve had gone with grief away To see a Soul more white more pure than they Earth was unworthy such a Prize as this Only a while Heav'n let us share the Bliss In vain her stay with fruitless Tears we 'd woo In vain we'd Court when that our Rival grew Thanks ye kind Powers who did so long dispense Since you so wish'd her with her absence thence We now resign to you alone we grant The sweet Monopoly of such a Saint So pure a Saint I scarce dare call her so For fear to wrong her with a Name too low Such a Scraphick brightness in her shin'd I hardly can believe her Woman-kind 'T was sure some noble Being left the Sphere Which deign'd a little to inhabit here And can't be said to die but disappear Or if she Mortal was and meant to show The greater skill by being made below Sure Heav'n preserv'd her by the fall uncurst To tell how all the Sex were form'd at first Never did yet so much Divinity In such a small Compendium crouded lye By her we credit what the Learned tell That many Angels in one Point can dwell More damned Fiends did not in Mary rest Than lodg'd of Blessed Spirits in her Breast Religion dawn'd so early in her mind You 'd think her Saint whilst in the Womb enshrin'd Nay that bright ray which did her Temples paint Proclaim'd her clearly while alive a Saint Scarce had she learnt to lisp Religion's Name E'r she by her Example preach'd the same And taught her Cradle like the Pulpit to reclaim No Action did within her Practice fall Which for th' Atonement of a Blush could call No word of hers e'er greeted any Ear But what a dying Saint confest might hear Her Thoughts had scarcely ever fully'd been By the least Foot-steps of Original Sin. Her Life did still as much Devotion breath As others do at their last Gasp in Death Hence on her Tomb of her let not be said So long she liv'd but thus so long she pray'd A SUNDAY-THOUGHT In Sickness LOrd how dreadful is the Prospect of Death at the remotest Distance How the smallest Apprehension of it can pall the most gay airy and brisk Spirits Even I who thought I could have been merry in sight of my Coffin and drink a Health with the Sexton in my own Grave now tremble at the least Envoy of the King of Terrors To see but the shaking of my Glass makes me turn pale and fear is like to prevent and do the Work of my Distemper All the Jollity of my Humor and Conversation is turn'd on a sudden into shagrin and melancholy black as Despair and dark as the Grave My Soul and Body seem at once laid out and I fancy all the Plummets of Eternal Night already hanging upon my Temples But whence proceed these Fears Certainty they are not idle Dreams nor the accidental Product of my Disease which disorders the Brains and fills 'em with odd Chimaera's Why should my Soul be averse to its Enlargement Why should it be content to be knit up in two Yards of Skin when it may have all the World for its Purliew 'T is not that I 'm unwilling to leave my Relations and present Friends I 'm parted from the first already and could be sever'd from both the length of the whole Map and live with my Body as far distant from them as my Soul must when I 'm dead Neither is it that I 'm loth to leave the Delights and Pleasures of the World some of them I have tried and found empty the others covet not because unknown I 'm confident I could despise 'em all by a Greatness of Soul did not the Bible oblige me and Divines tell me 't is my Duty It is not neither that I 'm unwilling to go hence before I 've Establish'd a Reputation and something to make me survive my self I could have been content to be Still-born and have no more than the Register or Sexton to tell that I 've ever been in the Land of the Living In Fine 't is not from a Principle of Cowardise which the Schools have called Self-preservation the poor Effect of Instinct and dull pretence of a Brute as well as me This Unwillingness therefore and Aversion to undergo the general Fate must have a juster Original and flow from a more important Cause I 'm well satisfied that this other Being within that moves and actuates my Frame of Flesh and Blood