POËMS BY HENRY GLAPTHORN Sustineamque Comam metuentem frigora Myrtum Atque ita sollicito multus Amante legar LONDON Printed by Richard Bishop for Daniel Pakeman and are to be sold at his Shop at the Rain-bow neer the Inner Temple Gate 1639. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE IEROME Earle of PORTLAND My Lord DEdications from some Writers are meere Customes from others Complements but from mee neither my Muse being yet too young to be authorized by Custome to intrude upon a Patron this being the earliest flight of her ambition and my Reason too old to suffer mee to be guilty of Complement to one so furnished with all Reality and VVorth as is your Lordship My motive Sir to this audacious errour is only the pretence of my respective dutie and for that cause will I hope merit an indulgent pardon VVhat you shall here find set down were the Maiden-Studies of a Muse which aspires to no other Fame than your allowance nor can my selfe atchieve a greater quiet to my soule nor ayme a higher glorie than to see my selfe by your free acceptance of this triviall Sacrifice rank'd amongst The humblest honourers of your Name and Family HENRY GLAPTHORNE Vpon the Duke of York his Birth-night at Richmond To the PRINCE and the rest of his MAIESTIES Children BLessings surround this Presence To begin Our votes to You without a praier were sin 'Gainst our religious loyalty could our care And zeal transform our very souls to praier 'T were a just tribute due to You who are The best of Princes each of You a Starre That gilds our Brittish Orb with rayes more bright Than was in Paradise the worlds first light Hark! whence this suddain harmony the Spheares Strive to divulge their duties there appeares A generall joy in Heav'n this night has hurld In stead of darknesse gladnesse ore the world Has calm'd the sea on which the Tritons play And Syrens sing for joy not to betray But why this triumph 'T was because this night Sweet Prince Your Birth did beautifie the light Adjudge a second Columne to sustaine The glorious building of your Fathers raigne To be our second Hope the cause that we Doe pay our vowes to this Solemnitie In wishes which a Mother might befit Or a full Lover in his zeal of wit May all Your lives be one continued Youth Attended on by health mirth beautie truth May You live free from dangers nay from fears And grow in graces as You do in years Shoot up like infant-Cedars straight and even Till Your brave Heads aspire to neighbour Heaven While wee with a most humble flame inspir'd Live to behold Your worth and to admire't Entertainment to the Prince Elector at Mr. Osbalston's PRotect me my best Stars A suddain fear Seises my faculties there 's something here Surely includes divinely now I see A power inferiour scarce to Majestie Claimes my Prerogative which since to You To Whom he place is consecrate by vow I do resigne with freedome blest Delight For this shall change her Tempe and invite The jocund Graces hither to erect Their Pallace here Mirth being th' Architect Favonian winds shall with as mild a breath As is expir'd by spotlesse babes in death Here one continued summer still display Making this seem a new Arabia But whence assume I this Prophetick rage Rapt with whose sacred furie I presage This happy Omen 'T is your smiles inspire Gracious and Noble with Aetheriall fire My frosty soule so as Promethian heat Gave the cold clay warmth masculine and great Thus for my selfe The places Genius now For your Inviter who by me does vow His heart your humble Sacrifice since Heaven Accepts a graine of Incense that is given With a true zeale better than pounds of Gumms Or Alters smoking with fat Hecatombs From fain'd Devotion He does hope Your eyes Will dart a beame to fire his Sacrifice Whose quickning lustre like the Sun may bring Upon the place and him a constant Spring To Lucinda upon the first sight of her Beautie ENcountring her I thought the morning Star Had left the Nabatbeans till on her My wondring eyes with a more perfect sight Gazing beheld that Venus was but bright Shee glorious To venture to compare Her cheeks to Lillies Sun-beams to her hair Were to allow her mortall far from me Be so much sin gainst beauties Deitie Tell the wild Indian that with prostrate brest Adores the Sun-rise in the gorgeous East His labour 's lost 't is needlesse any more To fish for Pearle or Diamond on their shore Nor Pearls nor Diamonds Rubies or the rest Of Metaphors by which are oft exprest Our common beauties nere can hope to be Grac'd by being us'd as an Hyperbolie In her delineation 'T was the light Of her brâ—â—â—t eyes depriv'd mine of the sight They once enjoy'd those fools who sought to make A Star of â—â—â—â—nices haire might take Hers for a Planet fix it and ne're fear To dazzle Phoebus lustre in the sphear Lucinda describ'd THere 's not an eye that views Lucinda's face But wondring at the perfect grace That does within that modell rest Esteems her most transcendently above The power of Fancie Art or Love Truly to be exprest To say each golden tresse that does adorne Her glorious Forehead might bee worne By Iuno or by beauties Queene Were to prophane her sacred threds for they Could not such precious Locks display On the Idalian Greene. They are then gorgeous ornaments and bee The upper branches of that tree Which easily does men intice Beleeving it the tree of life to say That they have found a ready way To th' long lost Paradice Her Iv'rie Forehead curious Nature hath Created for the milkie path By which the covetous gazers seek To find a passage by her tempting eyes Without their soules intire surprize To th' Apples in her cheek Those suns of brightnesse which so farre out-shine Humanitie that their divine Lustre perswades us 't is no sin To think each as a Seraphin does stand To guard that blest forbidden Land And the faire fruit within Of which her lips like swelling Grapes appeare The sweetest children of the yeare In Natures crimson liv'rie drest And by her balmie breath to ripenesse brought They smile then blush as if they sought Strait softly to be prest Then as two full Pomegranates lower growes Her breasts such wonders sure as those Will force nice mis-beliefe to know That miracles as yet unceas'd remaine Since there doth flourish in each veine Violets on stalks of Snow But these though true descriptions are so farr Beneath her worth I have a Warr Within my pensive soule to see So many wondrous rare Perfections dwell In one yet find no Parallell In spacious Poetrie To Lucinda departing OH stay Lucinda and let flie A thousand loves from thy bright eye By which inspir'd I will expresse Thy beauties my faire Shepheardesse Thy Cheek loves Tempe where does grow Warme Roses in soft beds of Snow This wonder Dearest is to tell The world th'
of the greener Bay Dipping my Pen in tears what ere it be That I would write it proves an Elegie You must expell this Sadnesse You whose light Eclipses that pale Virgin of the Night The solitary Moon whose every Ray Transcends the clearest lustre of the Day You in whose eyes sit flames which can beget Themselves a living Spheer in every Wit You that are All Women can be and more Than Youth and Beauty ere disclos'd before Who doe resemble Heav'n so neer You 'd want Onely the Name not Nature of a Saint You with a smile can like the West-wind bring An unexpected Summer on the Spring And with one Beame or comfortable Glance Ravish my soule into so high a trance That Your bright Head shall hit the Stars and flie To Heaven o' th' swift wings of my Poesie While I with equall feare and hope possest Tender my Heart your Sacrifie and rest Your Servant To Lucinda He being in Prison REceive these lines from your imprison'd Friend As the last Farewell which his hand must send To greet your Eyes from which mine borrow'd light To guide my wandring Fancie to the sight Of Mortals wonder in your Essence Love First darted Raies from those bright Stars to move Me to admire your Beautie But agen To make old Nature proud as when my Pen Flowd with mellifluous Epithites to show The glorious shape shee fully did bestow On your unequal'd Frame To say your haire Are nets of Gold whose Tramels might insnare The King of gods or that your Iv'rie brests Are Balls of Camphire sweeter than the nests Where the Arabian Phenix does desire To burne her selfe as I have done in fire More precious than her Funerall flames would add New griefs so powerfull as would force mee mad Were I of stronger temper Since I 've lost Those rarities bought with the pricelesse Cost Of my unvalued Libertie which now I must forgoe for ever from the Vow You made before the Hierarchie of Heaven Which now I summon witnesses how even My Love has been I free you If you heare That wilfully I perish'd one poor teare I aske no more shed and my Soule when Death Has robd my carcasse of its loathed breath Shall pray that you hereafter may possesse A Friend that lov'd your Memorie no lesse Than I who spight of Fortune will be blest That once I was term'd Yours though now I rest Forsaken To Lucinda revolted from him 'T Was I who made thee Beauteous before You might have sate regardlesse at your dore Or past the Streets as other Women doe Without salutes or being congee'd to When now each eye that sees thee does admire To view a mortall Creature to aspire So neer the Heav'nly Essence every tongue Since I set out thy Excellence among Men of ingenuous Spirits strives to raise Thy Name beyond the name of Praise Nature did well I must confesse to frame Thee of her choisest Matter for the same You stand indebted to her and 't is fit You should acknowledge thankfulnesse for it The Orient Pearl new taken from the shell Though 't be as precious in it self to sell Cannot so fitting and commodious bee As when 't is polishd by a Lapidarie The glistring Diamond shines not to the sight Till by the Mill and Cutter 't is made bright You had as much implicite Beautie true As now you have when first I did you view But like a Diamond clouded ore with Drosse It gave small lustre cause unknown it was I polish'd it by giving it a Name Beautie 's regardlesse till adorn'd by Fame But Oh the Faith of Women Can there be Evasions found for such Apostacie As is in you What Penance can abridge Such an Impietie such dire Sacriledge 'Gainst Love's imperiall Godhead to resist Contemn his Orgies which by me his Priest He did enjoyn by his own powerfull Name You should observe with a religious Flame And you had vow'd to do it swore that I Should offer up to his great Deitie Your heart which Love himselfe would not despise But beg for such a welcome Sacrifice More precious than the sweet Panchayan Gumms The Phoenix Pile or fuming Hecatombs But as a vapour which the flatt'ring Sun Attracts to th' pure Ayrs middle Region Under pretence to give a new Starre birth And throwes a fading Meteor to the Earth So fell your Heart from Love's unspotted Throne By your intemp'rate violation Of Vows to me in which if you persist Mercie will blot you from her candid List As a prodigious Monster and firme Truth Blush at a perjurie so black in Youth So white as yours at which the Rose-cheek'd Morne Might once have borrow'd lustre and unshorne Apollo brightnesse Oh! why should there rest Such falshood such unkindnesse in a Brest Whose superficiall figure does outgoe In whitnesse Lillies or untrodden Snow Ingratefull Woman what unborne offence Can give a specious Shadow a Pretence To thy unhallow'd falshood what strange Cause Thy suddain change this alteration drawes Perhaps now I have set thy Beautie forth With all the Attributes expressing Worth That when I did but speak of thee or write Fancie and Love daunc'd in each Epithite Some other Suitor who to please your eares Purchases Raptures which his dull brain bears As Parrots what is taught them who can speak But by tradition has surpriz'd your weak Imagination and does proudly boast In gaining that which me most labour cost Or else perhaps your over-curious eye Has spy'd some new unknown deformitie In me or 't may be possible you think Which is most likely that the Muses drink Is quite exhausted that my wearie Quill Wants moisture to explain your Praises still In that full way that over-liberall strain My Genius us'd at first your Love to gain If this be it I 'll fill the Daphnean Quire With a fresh Chaunter snatch bright Phaebus Lyre From his swift Fingers and once more rehearse Thy worth in such a strange mellifluous Verse That sweet Propertius shall his Cynthia tell Thy Praises do her Lustre far excell Gabius shall weep that his Lycoris name Is now surpass'd by thy immortall Fame And my great Master Ovid shall confesse Corynna's shining Beautie to be lesse Than thine since he for his Corynna's sake Did only three Books of Loves choice Art make But I for thine will such Conceits devise That after no Invention shall arise Yeeld then and let us ryot in the Sweets That in Youth Love and glorious Beauty meets That all the gods may envie to behold Us over-doe their Fables Dana's Gold Be counted Drosse and Laeda's Swan appear Black as a Crow when whiter Thou art there First shall my Lips with an unvalued Kisse Suck from those fragrant Mountainets of blisse Thy melting Lips more sweetnesse than the Bees Extract from Roses or Hyblaean Trees When to the Ayr their tender wings they yeeld And with their mouths depopulate the field And then descending to thy Iv'rie Neck My wandring Fancie shall my dull Lips check That they
ore-slipt thy Cheek thence they shall flye With hot propension to thy flaming Eye Thence to that smooth that polish'd plain of Snow On which thy Brests those Hils of wonder grow Where little Cupids daunce and do contend Which of them first shall venture to descend To the Elisian Vallies that doe lie 'Twixt them and that rich Mine of puritie Thy slender Waste What does remain below 'T is fit that none but you and I should know When like a vent'rous well resolved man I sail through yourunfathom'd Ocean To Loves safe Harbour I 'm too modest Sweet With wide expressions of our Loves to greet Thy willing eares since I for my part meane In Action not in Words to be obscene VNclose those Eye-lids and out-shine The brightnesse of the breaking day The light they cover is divine Why should it fade so soone away Stars vanish so and day appeares The Sun 's so drown'd i' th' morning's teares Oh! let not sadnesse cloud this Beautie Which if you lose you 'll nere recover It is not Love's but Sorrowes dutie To die so soon for a dead Lover Banish oh banish griefe and then Our Joyes will bring our Hopes agen Epithalamium THe Joyes of Youth and what the Spring Of Health Strength Happiness can bring Wait upon this Noble paire Lady may you still be faire As earliest Light and stil enjoy Beauty which Age cannot destroy May you bee fruitfull as the Day Never Sigh but when you Pray Know no Grief but what may bee To temper your Felicitie And You my Lord may truest Fame Still attend on your great Name Live both of you espous'd to Peace And with your years let Love increase Goe late to Heav'n but comming thither Shine there two glorious Starres together Epithalamium THe holy-Priest had joynd their Hands and now Night grew propitious to their bridall Vow Majestick Iuno and young Hymen flyes To light their Pines at the fair Virgins eyes The little Graces amorously did skip With the small Cupids from each Lip to Lip Venus her self was present and untide Her Virgin zone when loe on either side Stood as her Hand-maids Chastitie and Truth With that immaculate guider of her Youth Rose-colour'd Modestie these did undresse The beauteous Maid who now in readinesse The nuptiall Tapors waving 'bout her Head Made poor her Garments and enrich'd her Bed While the fresh Bridegroome like the lusty Spring Did to the holy Bride-bed with him bring Attending masc'line Vertues down he laid His snowie Limbs by a far whiter Maid There Kisses link'd their Minds as they imbrace A Quire of Angels flew about the place Singing all Blisse unto this Pair for ever May they in Love and Union still persever Upon a Gentleman playing on the Lute STrange miracle Who 's this that wears The native Liv'rie of the Sphears Transforming all our sense to Ears Surely it cannot bee a sin To think there is or may have bin On earth a heavenly Seraphin That granted certain 't must bee hee In any else there cannot bee Such a Coelestiall Harmonie When glorious He with swift pursute Touch't the soft Cordage of his Lute The Genius of the World was mute Amphion so his hand let fall VVhen at th' inchantment of his call Stones danc'd to build the Theban VVall. Arion sure when he began To charme th' attentive Ocean VVas but an Embleme of this Man VVhose numerous Fingers whiter farre Than Venus Swans or Ermines are VVag'd with the amorous strings a Warre But such a Warre as did invite The Sense of Hearing and the Sight To riot in a full delight For as his Touch kept equall pace His Looks did move with such a grace We read his Musick in his Face Live Noble Youth let Heav'n inspire Thee with its owne eternall Fire While all that hear thee doe admire Love LOve 's a Child and ought to be Won with smiles his Deitie Is cloath'd in Panthers skins which hide Those parts which kill if but espy'd Hates Wars but such as mildly led By Venus are to pleasures Bed There do soft imbraces fight Kisses combate with delight Amorous looks and sighs discover What be fits a timerous Lover But who ere to Love doth yeeld Mars his Spear nor Pallas Shield Can save from ruine for Loves Fire Once enkindled by desire Blown by thoughts impetuous blasts It for ever burning lasts The Sphear to which it strives to flie Are humane hearts that seek to die These like fuell Loves fire cherish Till they to ashes burne and perish To a reviv'd Vacation Play Prologue IT is a dead Vacation yet we see Which glads our souls a wel-set Company Adorn our Benches We did scarce expect So full an Audience in this long neglect Of Court and Citie Gentry that transfer In Terme their Visits to our Theater The Countrey Gentlemen come but to Town For their own bus'nesse sake to carry down A sad Sub-poena or a fearfull Writ For their poor Neighbour not for love of Wit Their comely Madams too come up to see New Fashions or to buy some Raritie For their young Son and Heir and only stay Till by their Sheepshearing they 'r call'd away The Courtiers too are absent who had wont To buy your Wares on trust they 'r gone to hunt The nimble Buck i' th' Countrey and conceive They give you Int'rest if you but receive A haunch of Ven'son or if they supplie Your Wives trim Churching with a Red-Deer Pie Few Gentlemen are now in Town but those Who in your Books remain uncross'd for Clothes Who when you aske them money are so slack To pay 't their answer is What do you lack You are our daily and most constant Guests Whom neither Countrey bus'nesse nor the Gests Can ravish from the Citie 't is your care To keep your Shops ' lesse when to take the Ayr You walke abroad as you have done to day To bring your Wives and Daughters to a Play How fond are those men then that think it fit T'arraigne the Citie of defect of Wit When we do know you love both wit sport Especially when you 've vacation sor't And now we hope you 've leisure in the Citie To give the World cause to suspect you witty We would intreat you then put off awhile That formall brow you wear when you beguile Young Chapmen with bad Wares pray do not look On us as on the Debtors in your Book With a shrewd countenance what we act to day Was for your sakes some think a pretty Play Nay wee our selves almost presume it good Because we hope it will be understood By your capacious Brains which know to get Wealth and for that cause we can't doubt your Wit At least we dare not since wee 'r bound to say All those are witty come to see our Play For Ezekiel Fen at his first Acting a Mans Part. PROLOGVE SUppose a Merchant when he lanches forth An untry'd Vessell doubtfull of its worth Dare not adventure on that infant Peece The glorious fetching of a
art Beauties miracle The envious Panther at thy breath Excelling his does sigh to death And at the lustre of thine eye Stars wink are buried in the Skie The amorous Thorne that does intwine In pricklie armes the Eglantine When thou thy brightnesse dost display Blossomes and makes even Winter May. The wanton Syrens that beguile With flatt'ring accents at thy smile Chaunt layes as harmlesse as the Dove Or Red-brest when she courts her Love But all these glories could not fire My frostie soule with big desire The Cause that made Lucinda mine Could not be humane shee 's divine To Lucinda weeping VVEep not Lucinda ' lesse you meane To purge the world from filth as cleane As are your thoughts too rich a prize For earth is such a sacrifice Such tears as yours suppose young May Does to the flowers each morning pay Such tears must sure all eyes intice To think your eyes Loves Paradice Oh! they have emptied Natures Store Made Snow and emulous Chrystall poore Your tears may justly claim pretence To be the balme of Innocence But least such Gemmes should be confin'd To earth behold the amorous wind Catching them fixes every one In heaven a Constellation But since my dearest thou wilt weep Thy tears for holyer uses keep When plagues upon the earth are hurld Let fall one drop 't will save the world To Lucinda A New-years Gift DRraw that black vail my fair one do not shrowd Those eyes in silken mists or in a cloud Of waving Curle be mercifull appear Like thy bright self and bring the infant Year Into the world old Time her Mother 's run Into so dull a Lethargie the Sun Is frozen in his couch and cannot rise Til thaw'd by th' temp'rate vertue of thine eies Those soft and gentle Stars whose pure and clear Rayes from the Chaos would have forc'd the year Up then Illustrious Beautie gild the day Change Januarie into youthfull May. See the cold earth does Winters liv'rie shift Off'ring the fresh Spring as your New-years Gift While the pale Couslip does the Primrose call To wait on You at this new Festivall Created by your beams the Winds invite The nimble winged messengers of light The early Lark and chirping Thrush to tune Their notes as chearfully as when in June They softly whisper to the azure skie Of a clear day a beauteous Augurie How triviall is a Poets force I can Teach birds t' admire you the rich Ocean Tender its mines of Pearl the Earth salute Thee with its choisest metals flowrs and fruit Impose a tribute on the Sun force Stars T' adore you more than erring Mariners Do them in Tempests But when I impart An offring on the Alter of my heart To thy commanding Deity I can pay Nought but a wreath of Mirtle or of Bay A Poets humble sacrifice unlesse My wishes which realitie expresse Though unperform'd may guiltlesly aspire To die the Martyrs of your sacred fire May all the happinesse Heav'n can conferre Be acted on your lives faire Theater May you be chast as beautifull mischance Never disturbe your peace not in a trance May you live long and healthfull may no page Of your lives volume have a line for Age To write his gastly name in but when Time Growes old and sickly on you and does clime With eager feet your hill of youth may all His steps be slip'rie may he backward fall Beyond his fates recoverie till hee bring Your fading minutes back into the spring Of strength and beauty til your cheek does wear The fame bright lustre that adorns this year Which I doe wish the power of gentle Fate May to my Love and yours make fortunate To Sleep upon Lucinda layd to rest HEnce ugly Image of grim death how dare Thy sawcie boldnesse venture on this faire Epitome of heaven Dost think that shee Participates of fraile mortalitie In such a drowsie passion Foole go stretch Thy remisse wings ore some poor aguish wretch Some with'red Hag whom for her youths loose sin Just Heaven has destin'd to be kept within The prison of her bed from her be gone The light can suffer no privation Wert thou not stupid deafe didst thou not heare When shee enrich'd her pillow how each Spheare Striv'd to expresse its dutie which should bee Prime Quirister in whistling harmonie To th'Citizens in Heaven who at that call Invited Saints to chant a Madrigall Devoted to her silent rest The Ayre Grew clear and pleasing every cloud so fayre Heav'ns forehead wore no wrinkles violent floods Kiss'd the smooth pebles and the woods With their Inhabitants conjoynd in this T' afford her senses a sweet Extasis Didst thou not see how every glorious Star With their pale Mistris Moon to wait on her Officiously contracted their dim light To Tapers that at opening of her sight They might new gild their Rayes The Indian which Had nere been poor had he not first been rich Dives for unvalued Pearle and fears to rise Till he can borrow lustre from her Eyes To polish his dull Merchandize Oh shee The Abstract of all which wild Poetrie In its loose raptures taught wherein her rest Invites the Winds as when the Phoenix nest Is by their flavour fir'd to mix their breaths With hers so precious that abortive Death's First child dull Sleep like to the Nightman must By stealth injoy it see the parched Dust Turnes to Assyrian odors and does skip Like an enamor'd Fairie to her Lip Where Venus Roses grow Rest safe my Sweet Till Sylvans wake and till the Muses greet Thee with their choisest harmonie till night Acknowledge all that it injoyes of light To thee the Queen of Splendor whose bright Rayes Renewes in mee the more than Halcion dayes Love in its Primitive purenesse wore Then rise And let mine draw new Influence from thine Eyes To Lucinda inviting her from her Chamber doom VVHat means this absence fair One What sad Impose you on your self that one poor Room Includes your glorious Beautie Is the Ayr Lesse wholsome here the Skie lesse clear lesse fair Or to inrich that have you tane a pride Meaning t' impov'rish all the Rooms beside The little Birds that by the Window flie Wanting your presence straight fall down and die And I who eas'ly could have fixt your Name A Planet in the Firmament of Fame Who could have drest your head with Lightning and Hung at each Hair a Starrie Diamond Who could have sent the cunning Boy to seek His last lost Arrow in your polish'd Cheek Who could have rais'd a Mount upon your Lip On which like Fairies all the Loves should trip And added to your Breath such a perfume As ever spending never should consume Who could have fetcht the Indies both to deck Thi well-form'd Iv'rie Pallace of your Neck And like a cunning Painter have exprest The Worlds perfections in your Globe-like Brest Praising each Feature so till every part Appear your Face and Conquer'd every heart I for a wreath of Willow cast away My flowry Chaplet
golden Fleece From the remot'st Indies 'T is so with mee Whose Innocence and timerous Modestie Does blush at my own shadow prone to feare Each Wave a Billow that arises here The Company 's my Merchant nor dare they Expose my weak frame on so rough a Sea ' Lesse you their skilfull Pilots please to stear By mild direction of your Eye and Ear Their new rigg'd Bark This is their hopes and mine Promise my selfe if you like North-stars shine I like a daring and adventrous Man Seeking new paths i' th' angry Ocean In threatning Tempests when the surges rise And give salt kisses to the neighb'ring Skies When blustring Boreas with impetuous breath Gives the spread Sailes a wound to let in Death Cracks the tall Mast forcing the Ship though loth On it s carv'd Prow to wear a Crown of sroth Will face all perils boldly to attain Harbour in safety then set forth againe To Mr. Charles Cotton YOu that are he you that are onely he Who are what every noble Soule should be The Abstract of Mankind who truely can Contract Wits spacious Orb into a span Have stock enough of goodnesse to restore VVhat erring Nature ever lost before 'T is not the greatnesse of your Name or Blood Makes mee adore you 't is because you'r good The Wits Maecenas can without a storme Of triviall words even actuate and inform With spritly soule that matter which would lie Lost like a lumpe without a memorie Or life t' ingender Wit Think there can bee In mee dear Sir no seeds of Flatterie Rapt with an holy Zeal I needs must sing Your ample Worth and when I touch a string Of my Phoebeian Lyre chast Daphne shall Tender her Bayes to deck the Festivall Devoted to your merit Bacchus then Shall with his richest Nectar-swelling Pen Indue me with such Wine as I do think At least I wish that you this night may drink Pure blood of the rich Spanish Grape which may Make you immortall and atchieve the Bay Poets by drinking ayme at May there bee In your carouses VVit and Companie Fit for your dear enjoying may the wealth Of noble VVine enrich you with a Health Great as my wishes while forgotten I By your Commands banish'd that Company I so admire in my Archaick bed Sigh like a Girle whose precious Maidenhead Is ravish'd from her till your future view Banish that pensive sadnesse and renew The happinesse of Your Servant To my Friend Advice IN Natures Annals Mans's the perfect Story And you of man had been the perfect glory Had not the errour of your giddie youth Sold the Inheritance of that noble truth Entaild on glorious manhood you who are In your desires so much irregular That your Ambition is to have your May Your flower of Youth spent in the fruitlesse play Of gaining Female favours In your blood Live flames which felt yet are not understood Continuall Aetnaes in your veines nere cease To burne yet doe by burning even increase What pleasure find you in a foolish Kisse Or wanton look that you do place your blisse Your minds Elisium in an amorous glance Or Priapeian night-work such a trance A dreame a nothing Can that be the summe O joy that you should aime at to become For that an Idiot to enthrall your heart To one whom nature made your weaker part Your houshold servant to adore her haire Make of her face an Idoll which though faire Is but a painted Sepulchre within Containing rotten ashes of black sin Reliques of soule corruption oh reclaime Those sordid thoughts and let a nobler aime Be your minds Object be the finall Cause Of your youths Actions Let not Cupids Laws Govern you wholly For your female Creatures Inchanting Divels clad in humane features Earths needfull evils Women they whose name Divided does most perfectly proclaime Their bad Condition they whose Beauty must Be to men fire-brands to enkindle Lust They are that sweet and undigested meat That does consume all those that dare to eat The too delicious Banquet Bels that sings One tune at Weddings and at Buryings Serpents whose cunning carriage can intice Another Adam out of Paradice They 'r all extremely good or fraught with evils If good best Saints if bad the worst of Divels Pardon mee sacred Woman-hood that I Who 've rais'd your Beautie to a Deitie Who know you good and vertuous that you can Excell in worth as well as feature Man That I should for the love I bear this Youth Injure the innocence of your matchlesse truth 'T is to reclaime his follies Let him see How bad the worst of your frail Sexe can bee I le expiate this crime hereafter pay To your chast thoughts my own yet Virgin Bay How much am I your friend then that dare chuse To hazzard the fresh honour of my Muse For your dear sake that with one loving breath Giving you life betray my selfe to death But this is friendships dutie and I must Rather to you that to my self be just Oh! Noble Youth when you with judgment shall Read all the Texts not held Canonicall In womens Legends when you shall behold In Times successive Volume what 's inrol'd Concerning them how many leaves are spent Upon their Lives and each a Monument Speaking the mischiefes that of old did rise From the intemperate glances of their eyes And when Times Herald Fame shall usher in Those whom Antiquitie brands for that sin Bring Helen forth and the lascivious Boy Wrapt in the flames themselves did cause of Troy When faire incest'ous Myrrha you shall see Groaning within the entrails of a Tree View wanton Lais who so oft did sell Her beauteous youth a horrid Fiend in Hell Or Tyrian Dido with big rage possest Opening the white dores of her Love-sick brest To let in wilfull death Or when you shall Read modern Stories more Authenticall Then Poetry has taught You shall survey Those Monsters Nero and Caligula Naked and trembling then with guilty feare Insatiate Messalina shall appeare Then the two Queens of Naples who in Name Were parallels as well as in their fame Whose appetites could never be withstood blood Till their owne bloods quench'd their owne heate of When you have seen these turn your eyes and look On that fair paper that unspotted Book Where happier Stories flourish and behold Inscrib'd in Characters of purest Gold Those glorious Names that Fame records to bee Th' immaculate Champions of blest Chastitie Selfe-murdred Lucrece 't will a Saint expresse And damne foule Tarquin for 's lasciviousnesse Chast Arethusa there displayes her Beams That shine though drown'd in lustful Alphey's streams Daphne that Phoebus hot pursuit did shun Looks brighter now than the lascivious Sun But vain are all examples since even we By Reasons Mistris wise Philosophie In Ethicks are instructed that we must Think each thing wicked which we know unjust And what more dire injustice can there be Than to our selves a want of Charitie But I 'm too serious now and must excuse The over-bold
As proud to wait on thy pure Soul which fled To heaven so swiftly none did think thee dead Till the loud Bell Deaths Trumpet did proclaime Thy flight to immortalitie then Fame Herselfe put on Griefs Liverie and sung Thy weighty losse till shee had lost her tongue In that sad use as if shee meant to have A Tombe for all her Storie in thy Grave Thou who when living Truths example stood To teach Great men how to be Great Good Nay to be Wise and Learnd to act each part Of their Lives Scene with Vertue and with Art Which thou mad'st Vertues Hand-maid and with skil Manag'd thy Greatnesse without Greatnesse ill But Sorrow does distract me and my Zeal Of Grief for thee does with the practise steal Away my Muses Faculties and now Deaths Embleme Cypresse hangs upon my Brow Heavie as thy cold Marble else ere this My pregnant Muse big with an Extasis Of Wonder had endeavour'd to set forth The unexpressive glorie of thy Worth It had displaid thy Learning which was such That it in justice may compare with much Admired Barclay or be said to side With Wit-excelling Buchanan the pride And glorie of thy Nation 'T was so known To both the Kingdomes each would gladly own Thee as their Off-spring but ours grieving must Only be happy to preserve thy dust Which as if Fame had meant it should inherit The glorie due unto thy living Merit This unaccustom'd Honour to it brings To mix with sacred ashes of our Kings Good is in Subjects Kingly and in thee All Graces strive to make an Unitie Of pious goodnesse many flames so meet And curle into one Pyramid then greet Their subtle Spheare in Aytons equall Brest Dwels all that could for Vertue be exprest So that the brightnesse of his Lives just glory Shall shame the Bad be to the good a Story Vpon the Noble Colonell-Generall Burroughs slaine at the Isle of Ree ELEGIE ADmired BURROUGHS though to deck thy Herse Thy Merits challenge a tenth Muses Verse Though if thy Valour just reward should have Mars should turne Poet write thy Epitaph Yet let not thy blest soule Heroick Spirit That now in heavens great Armie does inherit The Civick Garland Laurell and enjoyes More glorious triumphs than the Romish toyes Us'd to grace happie Conquests with despise This though no Hecatombe yet a Sacrifice Which the well-wishes of a bleeding heart Offers as Fun'rall flames to thy desert To say thou wert Wise Valiant and the rest Of those good Attributes thy Worth exprest T' include in it were nothing 'twere more fit That some sweet Genius some Ovidian Wit Should studie for new Epithites t' expresse Thee as thou wert then living that 's no lesse Than Master of those Gifts which here related Would make old Nature proud she had created A work of so much wonder that pale Death Has lodg'd thee now Illustrious Soule beneath A pile of Marble whose hard entrails weep O're thy cold ashes and since yron-sleep Has clos'd thy eye-lids let thy silent Grave Retain with thee this for thy Epitaph Here lies a Colonell slaine by fatall Shot Who lost his Reg'ment and a Kingdome got Vpon the right Honourable the Lady Elisabeth Rich. ELEGIE VVHy looks the day so dull why does 't appear As if it were contracted to a Tear Or rather had put off essentiall Light To shrowd its Lustre in eternall night The Clouds are drowsie as they meant to sleep Or rather pregnant with salt Dew to weep 'T is past the Morning now Day needs not powre Its precious moysture on each amorous Flowre The Violets want not liquid pearls t' adorne Their azure ears nor from the beauteous Morne Does the pale Couslip or the Primrose seek A Christall Gemm to hang upon its Cheek Their pride does wither they hang down their heads As if they would intombe them in their beds The Sun-aspiring Lark under his Wing Hanging his head seems now to sigh not sing What should portend this sadnes why should mirth Seem thus o' th' suddain to bee fled from Earth No Comet has appear'd of late no Star With blazing brightnesse threatned Death or War The Cause then of this suddain change must be Beyond the reach of wise Astrologie My Fancie has 't This alteration falls Only at Beauties Vertues Funeralls These are no common Obsequies since Shee Illustrious Ladie is enforc'd to bee The Cause of these lamented Rites by proud Imperious Death confin'd into a Shrowd Shee that was so superlatively Good Her Vertue was her Honour more than Blood Whose Innocence and Love was all her Care Who was as purely Chast as Shee was Fayre So full of noble Carriage that her Life May be the Figure of a perfect Wife Look here you curious Great Ones here doth ly A Glasse for you to dresse your Actions by 'T was not the name of Ca'ndish so ally'd To Worth that could in her beget least Pride Nor did shee boast her Title being led A glorious Bride to hopefull Rich his Bed Gentle as Summer Evenings or as Ayre In its first native Puritie and Faire As was the Beams of the Created Light Before it ever had convers'd with Night Humble as Vot'ries that in Pray'r expire And Chast as those who never know Desire Was this Religious Dame who nere can die Since her own Fame has writ her Elegie Vpon the death of his Sister M rs Priscilla Glapthorne ELEGIE Happie Arabians when your Phoenix dies In a sweet pile of fragrant Spiceries Out of the Ashes of her Myrrh-burn'd Mother That you may still have one springs up another Unhappie we Since 't is your Phoenix nature Why could nor ours our only matchlesse Creature Injoy that right Why from the Mothers Urne Did not another Phoenix straight returne Oh! there 's a reason 't was cause Natures Store All spent on her is now become too poore To frame her equall so that on her Herse My trembling hand shall hang this Fun'rall Verse Vertue and Beautie none can boast to have They both are buried in her silent Grave Who was Loves Truths Beauties and Vertues Pride With her Love Truth Beautie and Vertue dyd Vpon the death of M rs Susanna Osbalston ELEGIE I Pree thee leave me Grief if thou wilt stay Within my panting Brest shew mee the way To present death or force my eyes to shed So large a flood of Tears as may bee spred Like a transparent Christall Sheet upon Her Grave that so no other worthlesse Stone Aspire t' adorne her Monument Oh Shee Who was what ev'ry loyall Wife should bee Shee in whose living Character was writ A modest Sweetnesse cloath'd in harmlesse Wit Not like those ayrie Dames that only strive To keep their Faces not their Fames alive That prey upon their Husbands wealth consume Whole Sign'ories in Painting and Perfume That only make an Idoll of their Will And hate all Good 'cause they account it Ill. No shee was pleasing void of least Offence Was fully Wise yet full of Innocence
But oh how I undoe my selfe I now Must pull my Lawrell from my wrinkled Brow And wreath'd in deathfull Cypresse sadly call My Muse to wait upon her Funerall Light thy sick Tapers pensive Muse and come To wait her Death and thine owne Martyrdome For neverbe invok'd to write by mee When hers is writ another Elegie Now in that silent Tenement of Death The Church go sing in a soft Swan-like breath A Requiem to thy memory and there Drowne ev'ry word thou utter'st with a Teare But let them be such Tears as may expresse Not Sorrow but a joyfull Extasis And You dear Sir in whom there doth survive So much of her shee needs must rest alive In your yet bleeding memory You that know How much each tributarie-Grace did owe To her unmatch'd Perfections how that shee Was Vertues Beauties just Epitome How that her Eyes were Sphears in which did move The equall Orbs of Chastitie and Love Her Cheeks two fields of purity where grew The Rose and Lilie mixt i' th' mutuall hue Of Smiles and Blushes how each outward part Did speak the richer lustre of her Heart Her Minds intensive glory When you think Justly on this her Grave no more shall drink Your frequent Tears but fraught with noble Mirth You 'll soon devest your Soul of all that 's Earth About it say 't was justice to transferre From this dull Region such a matchlesse Starre And fix't i' th' Christall Heav'n you 'll then confesse Your constant Love to her appear'd far lesse In Griefe than Joy for sorrow spent for this Her happinesse is envie to her blisse Not charitie t' her memory yet my Verse Shall hang a lasting Hatchment on her Herse My Lawrell deck her Urne in which does lie As much as of Mortalitie could die You Sir who then best knew her perfect Life Ought to rejoyce not grieve for your dead Wife SYLVIA A FRAGMENT AS DAMON thus did ' plaine Behold a Cloud out of the foamie Maine 'Gan to arise and over-looke the Earth Scorning the Sea from whence it took its birth As dull and pond'rous still it mounts up higher With azure Wings as if it meant t' aspire Spight of commanding Natures free Consent To place 'bove Ayr the watry Element Whose vain ambition from his calid Sphear When nimble Fire the chief and supreme Peere Of Elements beheld his servent Ire Increas'd his furie adding Fire to Fire Making him hotter than the eighth degree Which is prescrib'd him by Philosophie And calling to his accident the Heat That by him sate upon a brazen Seat Which 〈◊〉 like Aetna when Typâ—â—us breath Threatens to blow up the Sicilian earth He bad him quell that over-daring Foe Who still made hast to his own overthrow Heat strait obayd and wrapping up in Smoke His horrid Flames a speedy passage took Into the fierie Regions and with force Of rayes more ardent than the Suns bright Horse When they ore-turn'd their Masters purple Carr And drownd in Po the ventrous Waggoner Drew up the willing Cloud that striv'd to flie With Icarus to its owne Tragedie Just as a Load-starre whose attracting force Does cause the Iron leave its native Course And mount to it so did Heats pow'rful might Inforce the following Cloud till it had quite Pass'd the first Kingdome and was upward gone Into the pure Ayrs middle Region Then back with speed the Heat gan homeward fare And left the Cloud to th' mercy of the Ayre Whose subtle bodie being light and drie Could not indure the Clouds moist qualitie Clouds and all heavie Meteors Rain and Snow Haile and the like are Bodies mixt that grow Out of the Earth and watry Element Which by their nature pond'rous still are bent Down to the Center but the Ayre and Fire Of more pure substance seek to force them higher Towards the Sphear that in their downfall thence They may triumph and shew their Eminence Over those dullerbodies but the natures Of these two grosse yet fully simple Creatures Will not permit ascension they attract Therefore these Meteors upwards which compact Of humid Vapours needs must seek to bow Downwards again Our Cloud then which was now Left by its hot Conductor straight was cast By the inraged Ayr with greater hast To kisse the Center than a Parthian Bow Can shoot an Arrow or a Morter throw Deathfull Granado's in its way it strook Upon the Firmament and there b'ing broke Its wat'ry substance did obscure the Plaine And gawdie Heaven with Clouds which sought again To joyn in one and fill the buxome Ayre Just as you 've seen a Painter on a faire White Table drop some little spots of Black Which running here and there at length does make One Colour in the Grownd-work or as when Two num'rous Hosts of wel-resolved men Meet in the Field and with the murd'rous Smoak Of their Death-sending Muskets strive to choak Their bloody facts from view of lightsome day The Sulphure flying many a sev'rall way At last does meer and dim the Christall Sky So did this Cloud now many by and by One Cloud agen which when the Rose-cheek'd Sun Who had but halfe his daily labour run Saw from his shining Chariot on hee speeds Driving amain his Nectar-glutted Steeds Through the dark Welkin now he 'gins to call On Pirois now on Aethon then le ts fall His angry Whip upon their sweaty backs Now pulls the Raines hard which again he slacks That they might have more free and open Course T' expell the Cloud which scorning the Suns force With pitchie mists did so obscure his light That day seem'd turn'd into Cimmerian Night Then straight the Cloud out of its watrie Store Showr'd as if godly Pyrrhus age once more Had been approaching when blew Proteus drave His flocks to see the Mountains Fishes clave Unto the Elmes before a noted seat For harmlesse Turtles All the Winds did meet In hostile opposition Auster fought With Lybs and he with Boreas who from out His rapid throat cast gusts and did display His wings as wide as when Orythia Was by him ravisht Thunder from the Skie Like to lovd musick made a Harmonie With the Winds whistling shrilnesse Seas did roare Rising in frothie Mountains that the Shore Trembled for feare lest the impetuous Waves Should passe their Limits and become the Graves To the adjoyning Meadowes And our Swaine Damon who erst in Tears began to plaine His Kala's losse now let that salt dew fall To solemnize his poor Flocks Funerall For loe big-swelling with the late-falne Raine Tyber broke ore his Banks and ran amaine Into the Meadowes where our Shepheards kept Their Woolly Charge which presently was swept Down by the greedy River as wee see A Towne beleagur'd by its Enemie When by an on-slaught 't is surpriz'd and tane Both old and young are by the Martiall Traine Of the Victorious Souldiers murdred so Dealt the inraged River to and fro It ran and bore down all the tender Lambs That then were sucking of their milkie Dams
Ere they could waile their deaths with one sad bleat Were swallow'd up yet hanging on the Teat Nor did the Flocks horn'd-Leaders brazen Bell Serve him for ought unlesse to ring a knell To the Folds drowning 't was in vain to strive For the poor Shepheards now to save alive Themselves was all their studie to a Wood Whose top had long a mark to Sea-men stood They trembling fled when straight the Cloudy Skie 'Gan to cleer up and Phoebus lightsomely Agen to shine the Muses of this Grove To chaunt their sylvan Madrigalls and move The Stones to listen and the loftie Trees To bow their dewie heads the busie Bees Leaving the hollow Oaks which the late Rain Had forc'd 'em enter now began again Their little thighs with juyce of Thyme to fill But the amazed Shepheards trembling still Could scarce give credit to their wondring eyes Such pow'r has feare if throughly it surprize Our soule and sences they beheld the Wood As 't had been water thought each plash a flood And every drop that from the boughs did fall They thought a tear shed for their Funerall In this amazement standing to their sight An object was presented naked quite Save that her snowie Smock did compasse in Its white embraces her far whiter Skin They saw bound to an Oak so rare a Creature As seem'd to be the work on which old Nature Had spent her best Materialls Not Cytherca when shee naked rose From the Seas wat'ry bosome did disclose Halfe of her Beauties not the nimble Maid To whose swift Feet so many Suitors paid Their heads as tribute nor the Wood-nymphs Queen When shee was bathing by Acteon seen Showd like to her by whom Pigmalion might Have tane a Patterne and have fram'd a right Modell of Beautie her attractive Haire Bright as the Sun-beams drew th' inamour'd Ayr Gently to waft it and her Pearls of Sight Though drown'd in Tears cast forth a glitt'ring light That through dark Sorrow shin'd the winged Boy Leaving his Mothers Fountains came 〈◊〉 injoy Those Christal Wels whose pure drops could redresse Sooner than Nectar hot Loves thirstinesse The Naiades and tripping Fairie Elves Repin'd to see in their owne Woods themselves So farre surpass'd in Beautie and the Grove Thinking't had been Sylvanus fairest Love Brought thither all his Off-spring with pretence To doe his Gods belov'd Nymph reverence First did the Thorne most amorously begin To twine about her yet nere prick'd her skin Then aged Palmes and Victor-crowning Bayes Halfe-withered at her Eyes all quickning Rayes Came and renew'd their freshnesse and the Yew Unkind to wearie Passengers at view Of her lost all his poyson and the Tree Whence Venus Minion in his Infancie Was by the Wood-nymph taken did presume To borrow sweetnesse from her breaths persume Here did the Cedar meet the stately Pine And it the Cypresse seeking to intwine Their bushie tops which Arbour-wise did run To shade her Face and robb the am'rous Sun Of his desired Kisses all the Wood At view of her as much amazed stood As when the Oegrin Harpists cunning hand Gave life to Mountains forc'd Panchaya stand Shaking her Balmie Tresses Had the deep Sighs shee expir'd not shewd that life did keep In her a happie residence the Swaines Would have imagin'd that her azure Veines Her Iv'rie Neck and swelling Brests the rest Of her Dimensions not to be exprest T' have been Diana's Statue there erected To be ador'd but when they had respected Her sighs and saw her living as sh' ad been Some Sylvan Goddesse or the Nymph whose green Scepter commands the Forrests they askd ' grace For off'ring entrance to that sacred place The bashfull Virgin from her weeping eyes Shot glitt'ring Rayes hot Loves Incendiaries Teaching Daies Tapor a more glorious Shine Than Diamonds give to Jet when they intwine At them the frozen Waggoner might thaw His Chariot axel'd with congealed Snow And the slow moving North-Star having felt Their temp'rate heat his Isicles would melt And being affrighted at the sight of men Call'd up the blood into her Cheeks agen Which fear had made depart thence blushing red As does Aurora when shee leaves the Bed Of old Tythonius saine she would have got Into the Wood tooke Daphne from the hot Pursuit of lustfull Cynthius the Oak She oft besought to lend its Bark to cloak Her from their view 〈◊〉 when she saw how vain Her wishes were shee then began a main To beat her Brests and from her radiant eyes To send a showre whose drops were of more price Than those which conquer'd Danae As shee thought With plaints and grievous sighs to have besought The Shepheards to unbind her from the thick Of the green Wood came running toward her quick As some Numidian Lyon from his Den Half-starv'd with hunger to his prey three men Three Monsters rather clad in Weeds of haire Save that their Legs and Armes and Necks all bare Look'd rougher than their Garments to the Maid Then bent their cruell steps who humbly praid The Heavens for pitie on the Villains went Towards the Oak with a most damn'd intent To ravish her the Trees that by her stood Began lament the light Nymphs of the Wood Implor'd the chast Diana to defend Her wretched Votresse and the Birds did tend The Ayr with dismall screetches Phylomell In mourning accents fram'd her voice to tell The Vengeance due to Ravishers the Fite That burn'd their entrails blown by soul desire Made their eyes sparkle yeelding horid sight Unto their fact whose blacknesse did affright The blushing Sun who bid his golden head And seem'd to suffer an Eclipse through dread Of that dark deed and now they did begin With sacrilegious hands to touch that skin Which soft as Lydian Silk did even intice Love there to build his choicest Paradice When the inraged Shepheards who beheld Their monstrous purpose with stern fury fild Ran to her succour as a Bear whose young Is stolne away or as a Wolfe among A flock of Sheep when by the Pastors care Hee 's hindred of his prey just so did fare The disappointed Letchers and with cries Whose hideous sound lent thunder to the skies They rush'd upon the Shepheards who prepar'd For all incounters stood upon their guard And with their hooks which sometimes us'd to catch The tender Lambs and bleating Ewes they watch To meet their blows and strength with strength repel All strook together yet not one blow fell In vain to th' ground the sweat and purple blood That trickled from them dim'd their sights yet stood The fight in equall ballance now the Swaines And then the Wood-men had the odds their paines Seem'd not to make 'em wearie these did fight Spur'd on by lust and these in justice right Now 'gan they grapple and with all their force Striv'd to oerthrow each other no remorse Of their own harms could move their angrie minds To come to parley furie when it blinds Our soules is such a passion not the rage Of hungrie Indian Lyons