never want Delight even when I grone Best companied when most I am alone A Heaven of Hopes I have midst Hells of Feares Thus every way Contentment strange I find But most in Her rare Beauty my rare Mind SON VAunt not fair Heavens of your two glorious Lights Which though â—ost bright yet see not when they shine And shining cannot show their Beames divine Both in one Place but part by Daies and Nights Earth vaunt not of those Treasures ye enshrine Held only deare because hid from our Sights Your pure and burnish'd Gold your Diamonds fine Snow-passing Ivory that the Eye delights Nor Seas of those deare Wares are in you found Vaunt not rich Pearle red Corrall which do stir A fond desire in Fooles to plunge your Ground These all more faire are to be had in Her Pearle Ivory Corrall Diamond Suns Gold Teeth Neck Lips Heart Eyes Haire are to behold SON WHen Nature now had wonderfully wrought All Auristellas Parts except her Eyes To make those Twins two Lamps in Beauties Skies She Counsell of her Starry Seâ—aâ—e sought Mars and Apollo first did her advise To wrap in Colour Black those Comets bright Thâ—t Love him so might soberly disguise And unperceived Wound at every Sight Chaste Phoebe spake for purest azure dies But Jove and Venus green about the Light To frame thought best as bringing most Delight That to pin'd Hearts Hope might for aye arise Nature all said a Paradise of green There plac'd to make all love which have them seen SON NOw while the Night her â—able Vaile hath spred And silently her resty Coach doth rolle Rowsing with Her from Tethis azure Bed Those starry Nymphs which dance about the Pole While Cynthia in purest Cipres cled The Laâ—mian Shepheard in a â—rance descries And looking pale from height of all the Skies She dies her Beauties in a blushing Red While Sleep in Triumph closed hath all Eyes And Birds and Beasts a Silence sweet do keep And Proteus monstrous People in the Deep The Winds and Waves husht up to rest entise I wake I turne I weep opprest with Paine Perplex'd in the Meanders of my Braine SON SLeep Silence Child sweet Father of soft Rest Prince whose Approach Peace to all Mortals brings Indifferent Host to Shepheards and to Kings Sole Comforter of Minds which are opprest Loe by thy Charming Rod all breathing Things Lie slumbring with Forgetfulnesse possest And yet o're me to spread thy drowsie Wings Thou spar'st alas who cannot be thy Guest Since I am thine O come but with that Face To inward Light which thou art wont to shew With fained Solace ease a true felt Woe Or if deafe God thou do deny that Grace Come as thou wilt and what thou wilt bequeath I long to kisse the Image of my Death SON FAire Moone who with thy cold and silver Shine Makes sweet the Horror of the dreadfull Night Delighting the weake Eye with smiles divine Which Phoebus dazels with his too much Light Bright Queen of the first Heaven if in thy Shrine By turning oft and Heavens eternall Might Thou hast not yet that once sweet Fire of thine Endemion forgot and Lovers Plight If Cause like thine may Pity breed in thee And Pity somewhat else to it obtaine Since thou hast Power of Dreames as well as He That holds the golden Rod and Morall Chaine Now while She sleeps in dolefull Guise her Show These Teares and the black Map of all my Woe SON LAmpe of Heavens Christall Hall that brings the Houres Eye-dazeler who makes the ugly Night At thy Approach flie to her slumbry Bowres And fills the World with Wonder and Delight Life of all lives Death-giver by thy flight To the south Pole from these sixe Signes of ours Gold-smith of all the Stars with Silver bright Who Moone enamells Apelles of the Flowers Ah from those watry Plaines thy golden Head Raise up and bring the so long lingring Morne A Grave nay Hell I find become this Bed This Bed so grievously where I am torne But woe is me though thou now brought the Day Day shall but serve moe Sorrows to display SONG IT was the time when to our Northerne Pole The brightest Lampe of Heaven begins to rolle When Earth more wanton in new Robes appeareth And scorning Skies her Flowres in Rain-bows beareth On which the Aire moist Diamonds doth bequeath Which quake to feele the kissing Zephires breath When Birds from shady Groves their Love forth warble And Sea-like Heaven Heaven looks like smoothest Marble When I in simple course free from all Cares Far from the muddy Worlds inslaving snares By Oras flowry Bankes alone did wander Ora that sports her like to old Meander A Floud more worthy Fame and lasting praise Then that so high which Phaëtons fall did raise By whose pure moving Glasse the Milke-white Lillies Do dresse their tresses and the Daffadâ—llies Where Ora with a Wood is crown'd about And seems forgets the way how to come out A place there is where a delicious Fountaine Springs frâ—m the swelling brest of a proud Mountaine Whose falling Streames the quiet Cavernes wound And make the Echoes shrill resound that sound The Laurâ—ll there the shing Channell graces The Palm hâ—r Love with long-stretch'd Arms embraces The Poplar spreads her Branches to the Skie And hides from sight that azure Canopy The Streams the Trees the Trees their leaves still nourish That Place grave Winter finds â—ot without flourish If living Eyes Elysian fields could see This little Arden might Elysium be Oft did Diana there her selfe repose And Maâ—s the Acidaliaâ— Queen enclose The Nymphs oft here their baskets bring with Flow'rs And Anadems weave for their Paramours The Satyres in those shades are heard to languish And make the Shepheards partners of their anguish The Shepheards who in Barkes of tender Trees Do grave their Loves Disdaines and Jealousies Which Phillis when there by Her Flocks she feedeth With Pitty now anon with laughter readeth Neare to this place when Sun in midst of Day In highest top of Heaven his Coach did stay And as advising on his Career glanced As all along that morne he had advanced His panting Steeds along those Fields of light Most princely looking from that glorious height When most the Grashoppers are heard in Meadows And loftiest Pines or small or have no shadows It was my hap O wofull hap to bide Where thickest shades me from all Raies did hide In a faire Arbor 't was some Sylvans Chamber Whose Seeling spred was with the Locks of Amber Of new bloom'd Sicamors Floore wrought with Flow'rs More sweet and rich than those in Princes Bow'rs Here Adon blush't and Clitia all amazed Lookt pale with Him who in the Fountaine gazed The Amaranthus smyl'd and that sweet Boy Which sometime was the God of Delos joy The brave Carnation speckled Pinke here shined The Uiolet her fainting Head declined Beneath a sleepy Chasbow all of Gold The Marigold her leaves did here unfold Now while that ravish'd with delight
wildest Pow'rs doth tame His Providence extending every-where His Justice which proud Rebels doth not spare In every Page no Period of the same But silly we like foolish Children rest Well pleas'd with colour'd Velum Leaves of Gold Faire dangling Ribbands leaving what is best On the great Writers sense ne're taking hold Or if by chance we stay our Minds on ought It is some Picture on the Margine wrought THe Griefe was common common were the cries Teares Sobs and Groanes of that afflicted Traine Which of Gods chosen did the Sum containe And Earth rebounded with them pierc'd were Skies All good had left the World each Vice did raign In the most monstrous sorts Hell could devise And all Degrees and each Estate did staine Nor further had to go whom to surprize The World beneath the Prince of Darknesse lay And in each Temple had himselfe install'd Was sacrific'd unto by Prayers call'd Responses gave which fooles they did obey When pittying Man God of a Virgines wombe Was borne and those false Deities strooke dumbe RUn Shepheards run where Bethlem blest appears We bring the best of News be not dismay'd A Saviour there is borne more old than yeares Amidst the rolling Heaven this Earth who stay'd In a poore Cottage Inn'd a Virgin Maid A weakling did him beare who all upbeares There he in Cloaths is wrapt in Manger laid To whom too narrow Swadlings are our Spheares Run Shepheards run and solemnize his Birth This is that Night no Day grown great with Blisse In which the Power of Satan broken is In Heaven be Glory Peace unto the Earth Thus singing through the Aire the Angels swame And all the Stars re-ecchoed the same O Than the fairest day thrice fairer night Night to best Daies in which a Sun doth rise Of which the golden Eye which cleares the Skies Is but a sparkling Ray a Shadow light And blessed ye in silly Pastors sight Mild Creatures in whose warme Crib now lies That Heaven-sent Youngling holy-Maid-born Wight ' Midst end beginning of our Prophesies Blest Cottage that hath Flow'rs in Winter spread Though withered blessed Grasse that hath the grace To deck and be a Carpet to that Place Thus singing to the sounds of oaten Reed Before the Babe the Shepheards bow'd their knees And Springs ran Nectar Honey dropt from Trees TO spread the azure Canopy of Heaven And make it twinkle with those spangs of Gold To stay the pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold To give strange motions to the Planets seven Or Jove to make so meek or Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet accords are given Lord to thy Wisdom's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come meanely in mortality to ' bide And die for those deserv'd eternall plight A wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to muse on it THe last and greatest Herauld of Heavens King Girt with rough Skins hies to the Desarts wild Among that savage brood the Woods forth bring Which he more harmelesse found than man and mild His food was Locusts and what there doth spring With Honey that from Virgine Hives distill'd Parcht Body hollow Eyes some uncouth thing Made him appeare long since from Earth exil'd There burst he forth all ye whose Hopes rely On God with me amidst these Desarts mourne Repent repent and from old errours turne Who list'ned to his voice obey'd his cry Only the Ecchoes which he made relent Rung from their flinty Caves repent repent THese Eyes deare Lord once Tapers of Desire Fraile Scouts betraying what they had to keep Which their own heart then others set on fire Their trait'rous black before thee here out-weep These Locks of blushing deeds the gilt attire Waves curling wrackfull shelves to shadow deep Rings wedding Soules to Sins lethargick sleep To touch thy sacred Feet do now aspire In Seas of care behold a sinking Barke By winds of sharpe remorse unto thee driven O let me not be Ruines aym'd at marke My faults confest Lord say they are forgiven Thus sigh'd to Jesus the Bethanian faire His teare-wet Feet still drying with her Haire I changed Countries new delights to find But ah for pleasure I did find new paine Enchanting Pleasure so did Reason blind That Fathers love and words I scorn'd as vaine For Tables rich for bed for following traine Of carefull servants to observe my Mind These Heards I keep my fellows are assign'd My Bed's a Rock and Herbs my Life sustaine Now while I famine feele feare worser harmes Father and Lord I turne thy Love yet great My faults will pardon pitty mine estate This where an aged Oake had spread its Armes Thought the lost Child while as the Heards he led And pin'd with hunger on wild Acorns fed IF that the World doth in amaze remaine To heare in what a sad deploring mood The Pelican poures from her brest her Bloud To bring to life her younglings back againe How should we wonder at that soveraigne Good Who from that Serpents sting that had us slaine To save our lives shed his Lifes purple flood And turn'd to endlesse Joy our endlesse Paine Ungratefull Soule that charm'd with false Delight Hast long long wander'd in Sins flowry Path And didst not thinke at all or thoughtst not right On this thy Pelicans great Love and Death Here pause and let though Earth it scorn heaven seâ— Thee poure forth tears to him pour'd Bloud for thee IF in the East when you do there behold Forth from his Christall Bed the Sun to rise With rosie Robes and Crowne of flaming Gold If gazing on that Empresse of the Skies That takes so many formes and those faire Brands Which blaze in Heavens high Vault Nights watchful eyes If seeing how the Seas tumultuous Bands Of bellowing Billows have their course confin'd How unsustain'd the Earth still stedfast stands Poore mortall Wights you e're found in your Mind A thought that some great King did sit above Who had such Laws and Rites to them assign'd A King who fix'd the Poles made Spheares to move All Wisdome Purenesse Excellency Might All Goodnesse Greatnesse Justice Beauty Love With feare and wonder hither turne your Sight See see alas him now not in that State Thought could fore-cast Him into Reasons light Now Eyes with tears now Hearts with griefe make great Bemoane this cruell Death and ruthfull case If ever Plaints just Woe could aggravate From Sin and Hell to save us humane Race See this great King nail'd to an abject Tree An object of reproach and sad disgrace O unheard Pity Love in strange degree He his own Life doth give his Bloud doth shed For Wormelings base such Worthinesse to see Poore Wights behold his Visage pale as Lead His Head bow'd to His Brest Locks sadly rent Like a cropt Rose that languishing doth fade Weake Nature weepe astonish'd World lament Lament you Winds
but only so far Embleme Thee As in a circle men the Deity A wreath of Bayes we 'll lay upon thy Herse For that shall speake Thee better than our Verse That art in number of those Things whose end Nor whose beginning we can comprehend A Star which did the other Day appeare T'enlighten up our dark'ned Hemispheare Nor can we tell nor how nor whence it came Yet feele the heat of thy admired flame 'T was thou that thaw'd our North 't was thou didst cleare The eternall mists which had beset us here Till by thy golden Beames and powerfull Ray Thou chas'd hence Darknesse and brought out the Day But as the Sun though he bestow all Light On us yet hinders by the same our sight To gaze on him So thou though thou dispence Far more on us by thy bright influence Yet such is thy transcendent brightnesse we Thereby are dazled and cannot reach thee Then art thou less'ned should we bound thy Praise T' our narrow dull conceit which cannot raise Themselves beyond a vulgar Theame nor flye A pitch like unto thine in Poesie Yet as the greatest Kings have sometimes dain'd The smallest Presents from a poore mans hand When pure devotion gave them it may be Your Genius will accept a mite from me It speaks my Love although it reach not you And you are praised when I would so do John Spotswood To William Drummond of Hawthornden I Never rested on the Muses bed Nor dipt my Quill in the Thessalian Fountaine My rustick Muse was rudely fostered And flies too low to reach the double mountaine Then do not sparkes with your bright Suns compare Perfection in a Womans worke is rare From an untroubled mind should Verses flow My discontents makes mine too muddy show And hoarse encumbrances of houshold care Where these remaine the Muses ne're repaire If thou dost extoll her Haire Or her Ivory Forehead faire Or those Stars whose bright reflection Thrals thy heart in sweet subjection Or when to display thou seeks The snow-mixt Roses on her Cheekes Or those Rubies soft and sweet Over those pretty Rows that meet The Chian Painter as asham'd Hides his Picture so far fam'd And the Queen he carv'd it by With a blush her face doth dye Since those Lines do limne a Creature That so far surpast her Feature When thou shew'st how fairest Flora Prankt with pride the banks of Ora So thy Verse her streames doth honour Strangers grow enamoured on her All the Swans that swim in Po Would their native brooks forgo And as loathing Phoebus beames Long to bath in cooler streamos Tree-turn'd Daphne would be seen In her Groves to flourish green And her Boughs would gladly spare To frame a garland for thy haire That fairest Nymphs with finest fingers May thee crown the best of singers But when thy Muse dissolv'd in show'rs Wailes that peerlesse Prince of ours Cropt by too untimely Fate Her mourning doth exasperate Senselesse things to see thee moane Stones do weep and Trees do groane Birds in aire Fishes in flood Beasts in field forsake their food The Nymphs forgoing all their Bow'rs Teare their Chaplets deckt with Flow'rs Sol himselfe with misty vapor Hides from earth his glorious Tapor And as mov'd to heare thee plaine Shews his griefe in show'rs of raine Mary Oxlie of Morpet POEMS The First Part. IN my first Prime when childish Humours fed My wanton Wit ere I did know the Blisse Lies in a loving Eye or amorous Kisse Or with what Sighs a Lover warmes his Bed By the sweet Thespian Sisters Errour led I had more mind to read than lov'd to write And so to praise a perfect Red and White But God wote knew not what was in my Head Love smil'd to see me take so great Delight To turne those Antiques of the Age of Gold And that I might more Mysteries behold He set so faire a Volume to my Sight That I Ephemerides laid aside Glad on this blushing Book my Death to read SON I Know that all beneath the Moon decaies And what by Mortalls in this World is brought In Times great Periods shall returne to nought That fairest States have fatall Nights and Daies I know that all the Muses heavenly Layes With Toyle of Spright which are so dearely bought As idle sounds of few or none are sought That there is nothing lighter than vaine Praise I know fraile Beauty like the purple Floure To which one Morne oft Birth and Death affords That Love a jarring is of Minds Accords Where Sense and Will bring under Reasons Power Know what I list this all can not me move But that alas I both must write and love SON YE who so curiously do paint your Thoughts Enlightning ev'ry Line in such a guise That they seem rather to have fallen from Skies Than of a humane Hand by mortall Draughts In one Part Sorrow so tormented lies As if his Life at ev'ry Sigh would part Love Here blindfolded stands with Bow and Dart â—here Hope looks pale Despaire with flaming Eyes Of my rude Pensill look not for such Art My Wit I find too little to devise So high Conceptions to expresse my smart And some say Love is faign'd that 's too too wise These troubled Words and Lines-confus'd you find Are like unto their Modell my sick Mind SON Aye me and I am now the Man whose Mâ—se In happier Times was wont to laugh at Love And those who suff'red that blind Boy abuse The noble Gifts were given them from above What Metamorphose strange is this I prove My selfe now scarce I find my selfe to be And thinke no Fable Circes Tyrannie And all the Tales are told of changed Jove Vertue hath taught with her Philosophy My mind unto a better Course to move Reason may chide her full and oft reprove Affections Power but what is that to me Who ever thinke and never thinke on Ought But that bright Cherubine which thraâ—ls my Thought SON HOw that vaste Heaven intitl'd First is rol'd If any glancing Towres beyond it be And People living in Eternity Or Essence pure that doth this All uphold What motion have those fixed Sparkes of Gold The wandring Carbuncles which shine from high By Sprights or Bodies crosse-waies in the Skie If they be turn'd and mortall Things behold How Sun posts Heaven about how Nights pale Queen With borrowed Beames lookes on this hanging Round What cause faire Iris hath and Monsters seene In Aires large Fields of light and Seas profound Did hold my wandring Thoughts when thy sweet Eye Bade me leave all and only thinke on Thee SON FAire is my Yoake though grievous be my Paines Sweet are my Wounds although they deeply smart My Bit is Gold though shortened be the Reines My Bondage brave though I may not depart Although I burne the Fire which doth impart Those Flames so sweet reviving Force containes That like Arabia's Bird my wasted Heart Made quick by Death more lively still remaines I joy though oft my waking Eyes spend Teares I
you beare a weeping Part All Night at day but you must do the same Cease idle Sighs to spend your Stormes in vaine And these sweet silent thickets to molest Containe you in the Prison of my Brest You do not ease but aggravate my Paine Or if burst forth you must that Tempest move In sight of her whom I so dearely love SON YOu restlesse Seas appease your roaring Waves And you who raise huge Mountaines in that Plaine Aires Trumpeters your hideous sounds containe And listen to the plaints my griefe doth cause Eternall Lights though adamantine Laws Of Destinies to move still you ordaine Turne hither all your Eyes your Axels pause And wonder at the Torments I sustaine â—ad Earth if thou made dull by my disgrace Be not as senselesse aske those Powers above Why they so crost a Wretch brought on thy Face Fram'd for mishap th' Anachorit of Love And bid them that no more Etnaes may burne To Erimanth ' or Rhodâ—pe me turne SON IF crost with all mishaps be my poore Life If one short day I never spent in mirth If my Sp'rit with it selfe holds lasting strife If sorrows death is but new sorrows birth If this vaine World be but a mournfull Stage Where slave-borne Man plaies to the laughing Stars If Youth be toss'd with Love with Weaknesse Age If Knowledge serves to hold our Thoughts in Wars If Time can close the hundred Mouths of Fame And make what 's long since past like that 's to be If Vertue only be an Idle Name If being borne I was but borne to dye Why seek I to prolong these loathsome daies The fairest Rose in shortest time decaies SON ALl other Beauties howsoe're they shine In Haires more bright than is the golden Ore Or cheeks more faire than fairest Eglantine Or hands like hers that comes the Sun before Match'd with that Heavenly Hew and shape divine With those deare Stars which my weak thoughts adore Look but as shaddows or if they be more It is in this that they are like to thine Who sees those Eyes their force that doth not prove Who gazeth on the dimple of that chin And finds not Venus Son entrench'd therein Or hath not sence or knows not what is Love To see thee had Narcissus had the grace He would have died with wondring on thy Face SEXTAIN THe Heaven doth not containe so many Stars Nor levell'd lye so many leaves in Woods When Autumne and cold Boreas sound their Wars So many Waves have not the Ocean Floods As my torn Mind hath torments all the Night And Heart spends Sighs when Phoebus brings the Light Why was I made a Partner of the Light Who crost in birth by bad aspect of Stars Have never since had happy Day nor Night Why was not I a liver in the Woods Or Citizen of Thetis christall Floods But fram'd a Man for Love and Fortunes Wars I look each Day when Death should end the Wars Vncivill Wars 'twixt Sense and Reasons Light My Paines I count to Mountaines Meads and Floods And of my sorrow Partners make the Stars All Desolate I haunt the fearfull Woods When I should give my selfe to rest at Night With watchfull Eyes I ne'r behold the Night Mother of Peace but ah to me of Wars And Cynthia Queen-like shining through the Woods But straight those Lamps come in my thought whose Light My Judgement dazel'd passing brightest Stars And then my Eyes in-isle themselves with Floods Turne to their Springs againe first shall the Floods Cleare shall the Sun the sad and gloomy Night To dance about the Pole cease shall the Stars The Elements renew their ancient Wars Shall first and be depriv'd of Place and Light Ere I find rest in City Fields or Woods End these my daies you Inmates of the Woods Take this my Life ye deep and raging Flouds Sun never rise to cleare me with thy Light Horror and Darknesse keep a lasting Night Consume me Care with thy intestine Wars And stay your Influence o're me bright Stars In vaine the Stars th' Inhabitants o' th' Woods Care Horror Wars I call and raging Floods For all have sworne no Night shall dim my Sight SON O Sacred Blush enpurpling Cheekes pure skies With crimson Wings which spred thee like the Morne O bashfull look sent from those shining eyes Which though slid down on Earth doth Heaven adorne O Tongue in which most lushious Nectar lies That can at once both blesse and make forlorne Deare corrall Lip which Beauty beautifies That trembling stood before her words were borne And you her Words Words no but golden Chaines Which did inslave my eares ensnare my soule Wise Image of her Mind Mind that containes A power all Power of Senses for to controule So sweetly you from Love disswade do me That I love more if more my Love can be SON SOund hoarse sad Lute true witnesse of my woe And strive no more to ease selfe chosen paine With soule-enchanting sounds your accents straine Unto these teares incessantly which flow Sad Treeble weep and you dull Basses show Your Masters sorrow in a dolefull straine Let never joyfull Hand upon you go Nor Consort keep but when you do complaine Flie Phoebus Raies abhor the irkesome Light Woods solitary shades for thee are best Or the black horrours of the blackest Night When all the World save Thou and I do rest Then sound sad Lute and beare a mourning part Thou Hell canst move though not a Womans Heart SON IN vaine I haunt the cold and Silver Springs To quench the Fever burning in my veines In vaine Loves pilgrim Mountaines Daâ—es and Plains I over-run vaine help long absence brings In vain my Friends your Counsell me constraines To fly and place my Thoughts on other things Ah like the Bird that fired hath her Wings The more I move the greater are my paines Desire alas Desire a Zeuxis new From th' Orient borrowing Gold from Westerne skies Heavenly Cinabre sets before my Eyes In every place her Haire sweet look and Hue That flie run rest I all doth prove but vaine My life lies in those Eyes which have me slaine SON SLide soft faire Forth and make a Christall Plaine Cut your white Locks and on your foamy Face Let not a wrinkle be when you embrace The Boat that Earths Perfections doth containe Winds wonder and through wondring hold your pace Or if that ye your hearts cannot restraine From sending sighs feeling a Lovers Case Sigh and in her faire haire your selves enchaine Or take these sighs which absence makes arise From my oppressed brest and fill the sailes Or some sweet breath new brought from Paradise The flouds do smile Love o're the winds prevailes And yet huge Waves arise the cause is this The Ocean strives with Forth the Boat to kisse SON TRust not sweet soule those curled waves of Gold With gentle Tides that on your Temples flow Nor Temples spred with Flakes of Virgin snow Nor snow of Cheeks with Tyrian graine enrold Trust not those
shining Lights which wrought my woe When first I did their azure Raies behold Nor voice whose sounds more strange effects do show Than of the Thracian Harper have been told Look to this dying Lilly fading Rose Darke Hyacinthe of late whose blushing Beames Made all the neighbouring herbs and grasse rejoyce And thinke how little is 'twixt Lifes extreames The cruell Tyrant that did kill those Flow'rs Shall once aye me not spare that Spring of yours SON IN Minds pure Glasse when I my selfe behold And lively see how my best daies are spent What clouds of care above my head are rold What comming ill which I cannot prevent My course begun I wearied do repent And would embrace what Reason oft hath told But scarce thus thinke I when Love hath controld All the best reasons Reason could invent Though sure I know my labours end is griefe The more I strive that I the more shall pine That only death shall be my last reliefe Yet when I thinke upon that face divine Like one with Arrow shot in laughters place Maugre my Heart I joy in my disgrace SON DEare Quirister who from those shadows sends Ere that the blushing Morne dare shew her Light Such sad lamenting straines that Night attends Become all Eare Stars stay to heare thy plight If one whose griefe even reach of thought transcends Who ne're not in a Dreame did taste Delight May thee importune who like case pretends And seems to joy in woe in Woes despight Tell me so may thou Fortune milder try And long long sing for what thou thus complaines Since Winter 's gone and Sun in dapled skie Enamour'd smiles on Woods and flowry Plaines The Bird as if my questions did her move With trembling wings sigh'd forth I love I love SON O Cruell Beauty sweetnesse inhumane That night and day contends with my desire And seeks my hope to kill not quench my fire By Death not Baulme to ease my pleasant paine Though ye my thoughts tread down which would aspire And bound my blisse do not alas disdaine That I your matchlesse worth and grace admire And for their cause these torments sharpe sustaine Let great Empedocles vaunt of his death Found in the midst of those Sicilian flames And Phaëton that Heaven him rest of breath And Daedals Son who nam'd the Samian streames Their haps I not envy my praise shall be That the most faire that lives mov'd me to â—ye SON THe Hyperborean Hills Ceraunus Snow Or Arimaspus cruell first thee bred The Caspian Tigers with their milke thee fed And Faunes did humane bloud on thee bestow Fierce Orithyas lover in thy bed Thee lull'd asleep where he enrag'd doth blow Thou didst not drinke the Flouds which here do flow But teares or those by ycie Tanais Head Sith thou disdaines my love neglects my griefe Laughs at my groanes and still affects my death Of thee nor Heaven I 'll seek no more reliefe Nor longer entertaine this loathsome breath But yeeld unto my Stars that thou maiest prove What losse thou hadst in losing such a Love SONG PHOEBUS arise And paint the sable Skies With azure white and red Rowse Memmons Mother from her Tythons bed That she thy Careere may with Roses spread The Nightingales thy comming each where sing Make an eternall spring Give life to this darke World which lâ—eth dead Spread forth thy golden haire In larger locks than thou wast wont before And Emperour-like decore With Diadem of Pearle thy Temples faire Chase hence the ugly Night Which serves but to make deare thy glorious Light This is that happy Morne That day long-wished day Of all my life so darke If cruell Stars have not my ruine sworne And Fates my hopes betray Which purely white deserves An everlasting Diamond should it marke This is the Morne should bring unto this Grove My Love to heare and recompence my love Faire King who all preserves But show thy blushing Beams And thou two sweeter Eyes Shall see then those which by Peneus Streames Did once thy heart surprise Nay Suns which shine as cleare As thou when two thou did'st to Rome appeare Now Flora decke thy selfe in fairest guise If that ye Winds would heare A voice surpassing far Amphions lyre Your furious chiding stay Let Zephire only breathe And with her Tresses play Kissing sometimes those purple ports of Death The Winds all silent are And Phoebus in his chaire Ensaffraning Sea and Aire Makes vanish every Star Night like a drunkard reeles Beyond the Hills to shun his flaming Wheeles The Fields with flow'rs are deckt in every hue The Clouds with Orient Gold spangle their blew Here is the pleasant place And nothing wanting is save She alas SON WHo hath not seen into her saffran Bed The Mornings Goddess mildly her repose Or her of whose pure bloud first sprang the Rose Lull'd in a slumber by a Mirtle shade Who hath not seen that sleeping white and red Makes Phoebe look so pale which she did close In that Jonian Hill to ease her woes Which only lives by her deare kisses fed Come but and see my Lady sweetly sleep The sighing Rubies of those heavenly lips The Cupids which brests golden Apples keep Those Eyes which shine in midst of their Ecclipse And he them all shall see perhaps and prove She waking but perswades now forceth Love SON SEe Cithereas Birds that milk-white paire On yonder leavie Mirtle Tree which grone And waken with their kisses in the Aire Th' enamour'd Zephires murmuring one by one If thou but sense hadst like Pigmalions Stone Or hadst not seen Medusas snaky haire Loves lessons thou mightst learn and learn sweet faire To Summers heat ere that thy Spring be growne And if those kissing lovers seeme but Cold Look how that Elme this Ivy doth embrace And binds and claspes with many a wanton fold And courting Sleep o'reshadows all the place Nay seems to say deare Tree we shall not part In sign whereof loe in each leafe a Heart SON THe Sun is faire when he with crimson Crown And flaming Rubies leaves his Easterne bed Faire is Thaumantias in her Christall gown When clouds engemm'd shew azure green and red To Westerne Worlds when wearied Day goes down And from heavens windows each Star shows her head Earths silent daughter Night is faire though brown Faire is the Moon though in Loves livery cled The Spring is faire when it doth paint Aprill Faire are the Meads the Woods the Floods are faire Faire looketh Ceres with her yellow haire And Apples-Queene when Rose-cheekt she doth smile That Heaven and Earth and Seas are faire is true Yet true that all not please so much as you MADRIGALL LIke the Idalian Queene Her haire about her Eyne And necke on brests ripe Apples to be seen At first glance of the Morne In Cyprus Gardens gathering those farie flowers Which of her blood were borne I saw but fainting saw my Paramours The Graces naked danc'd about the place The Winds and Trees amaz'd With silence on her gaz'd
Amber do send forth Her Heaven hath golden Stars to crown thy Worth Moeris THe sister Nymphs which haunt the Thespian springs More liberally their Gifts ne're did bequeath To them who on their Hils suckt sacred Breath Then unto thee by which thou sweetly sings Ne're did Apollo raise on Pegase Wings A Muse more neare Himselfe more far from Earth Than thine whether thou weep thy Ladies Death Or sing those sweet-sowre Pangs that Passion brings To write our Thoughts in Verse doth merit Praise But thus the Verse to gild in Fictions Ore Bright rich delightfull doth deserve much more As thou hast done these thy melodious Layes No doubt thy Muses faire Morne doth bewray The swift Approach of a more glistring Day TEARES ON THE DEATH OF MOELIADES BY WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAVVTHORNEDEN LONDON Printed in the Yeare 1656. To the Author IN Waves of Woe thy Sighs my Soule do tosse And make run out the floud-gates of my teares Whose rankling Wound no smoothing Baume long beares But freely bleeds when ought upbraids my Losse 'T is thou so sweetly Sorrow makest to sing And troubled Passions dost so well accord That more Delight Thy Anguish doth afford Than others Joyes can Satisfaction bring What sacred Wits when ravish'd do affect To force Affections Metamorphose Minds Whilst numbrous Power the Soule in secret binds Thou hast perform'd transforming in Effect For never Plaints did greater Pitty move The best Applause that can such Notes approve Sr W. ALEXANDER Teares on the Death of MOELIADES O Heavens then is it true that Thou art gone And left this woefull Isle her Losse to moane Moeliades bright Day-star of the West A 〈◊〉 blazing Terrour to the East And neither that thy Spirit so heavenly wise Nor Body though of Earth more pure than Skies Nor royall Sâ—em nor thy sweet tender Age Of cruell Destinies could quench the Rage O fading Hopes O short-while lasting Joy Of Earth-borne man that one Houre can destroy Then even of Vertues Spoiles Death Trophies reares As if he gloried most in many Teares Forc'd by hard Fates do Heavens neglect our Cries Are Stars set only to act Tragedies Then let them do their Worst since thou art gone Raise whom thou list to Thrones enthron'd dethrone Staine Princely Bow'rs with Bloud and even to Gange In Cypresse sad glad Hymens Torches change Ah thou hast left to live and in the Time When scarce thou blossom'd'st in thy pleasant Prime So falls by Northern Blast a virgin Rose At halfe that doth her bashfull Bosome close So a sweet Flower languishing decaies That late did blush when kist by Phoebus Raies So Phoebus mounting the Meridians height Choak't by pale Phoebe faints unto our sight Astonish'd Nature sullen stands to see The Life of all this All so chang'd to be In gloomy Gowns the Stars this losse deplore The Sea with murmuring Mountaines beats the Shore Black Darkenesse reeles o're all in thousand Show'rs The weeping Aire on Earth her sorrow poures That in a Palsey quakes to see so soone Her Lover set and Night burst forth ere Noone If Heaven alas ordain'd thee young to die Why was 't not where thou might'st thy Valour try And to the wondring World at least set forth Some little Sparke of thy expected Worth Moeliades O that by Isterâ— Streames 'Mong sounding Trumpets fiery twinkling Gleames Of warme vermilion Swords and Cannons Roare Balls thick as Raine pour'd on the Caspian Shore 'Mongst broken Spears 'mongst ringing Helms shields Huge heapes of slaughtred Bodies long the Fields In Turkish bloud made red like Marses Star Thou endedst had thy Life and Christian War Or as brave Burbon thou hadst made old Rome Queen of the World thy Triumph and thy Tombe So Heavens fair Face to th' unborne World which reads A Book had been of thy illustrious Deeds So to their Nephews aged Syres had told The high Exploits perform'd by thee of old Towns raz'd and rais'd victorious vanquish'd Bands Fierce Tyrants flying foyl'd kill'd by thy Hands And in rich Arras Virgins faire had wrought The Bayes and Trophies to thy Country brought While some New Homer imping Wings to Fame Deafe Nilus dwellers had made heare thy Name That thou didst not attaine these Honours Spheares Through want of Worth it was not but of Yeares A Youth more brave pale Troy with trembling Walls Dâ—d never see nor She whose Name appalls Both Titans golden Bow'rs in bloudy Fights Mustring on Mars his Field such Mars-like Knights The Heavens had brought thee to the highest Hight Of Wit and Courage shewing all their Might When they thee fram'd Aye me that what is brave On Earth they as their own so soon should crave Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thale to Hydaspes pearly shore When Forth thy Nurse Forth where thou first didst passe Thy tender Daies who smil'd oft on her Glasse To see thee gaze Meandring with her Streames Heard thou hadst left this Round from Phoebus Beames She sought to flie but forced to returne By Neighbouring Brooks She set her selfe to mourne And as she rush'd her Cyclades among She seem'd too plain that Heaven had done her wrong With a hoarse plaint Cleyd down her steepy rocks And Tweid through her green Mountaines clad with flocks Did wound the Ocean murmuring thy death The Ocean it roar'd about the Earth And to the Mauritanian Atlas told Who shrunke through griefe and down his white hairs rold Huge Streames of tears which changed were to flouds Wherewith he drown'd the neighbour plains woods The lesser Brooks as they did bubling go Did keep a Consort to the publike Woe The Shepheards left their Flocks with down-cast eies ' Sdaining to look up to the angry Skies Some brake their Pipes and some in sweet-sad Layes Made senselesse things amazed at thy Praise His Reed Alexis hung upon a Tree And with his Teares made Doven great to be Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thule to Hydaspes pearely shore Chaste Maids which haunt faire Aganippes Well And you in Tempes sacred Shade who dwell Let fall your Harps cease Tunes of Joy to sing Dissheveled make all Parnassus ring With Anthâ—amesâ—ad â—ad thy Musick Phoebus turne To dolefull plaints whilst Joy it selfe doth mourne Dead is thy Darling who adorn'd thy Bayes Who oft was wont to cherish thy sweet Layes And to a Trumpet raise thy amorous Stile That floting Delos envy might this Isle You Acidalian Archers breake your Bows Your Torches quench with teares blot Beauties Snows And bid your weeping Mother yet againe A second Adoâ—s death nay Mars his plaine His Eyes once were your Darts nay even his Name Where ever heard did every Heart inflame Tagus did court his Love with Golden Streames Rhein with his Towns faire Seine with all she claimes But ah poore Lovers Death them did betray And not suspected made their Hopes his Prey Tagus bewailes his Losse in Golden Streames Rhein with his Towns faire Seine with all she claimes Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thule to
of the Spheares When Quills could move no more and force did faile Though down I fell from Heavens high azure bounds Yet doth Renowne my Losses countervaile For still the Shore my brave attempt resounds A Sea an Element doth beare my Name What Mortalls Tombe's so great in Place or Fame On his Lady beholding her selfe in a Marble WOrld wonder not that I Keep in my brest engraven That Angels face hath me of Rest bereaven See Dead and Senselesse things cannot deny To lodge so deare a Guest Ev'n this hard Marble Stone Receives the same and loves but cannot groane To sleep HOw comes it Sleep that thou Even kisses me affords Of her deare her so far who 's absent now How did I heare those Words Which Rocks might move and move the Pines to Bow Aye me before halfe day Why did'st thou steale away Returne I thine for ever will remaine If thou wilt bring with thee that Guest againe A pleasant deceit OVer a christall Source Iolas laid his face Of purling Streames to see the restlesse Course But scarce he had o'reshadowed the Place When in the water he a Child espies So like himselfe in stature Face and Eyes That glad he rose and cried Deare Mates approach see whom I have descried The Boy of whom strange stories Shepheards tell Oft-called Hylas dwelleth in this Well The Canon WHen first the Canon from her gaping Throat Against the Heaven her roaring Sulphur shot Jove wakened with the noise did aske with wonder What Mortall Wight had stolne from him his Thunder His christall Tow'rs he feared but Fire and Aire So high did stay the Ball from mounting there Thais Metamorphosis INto Briareus huge Thais wish'd she might change Her Man and pray'd him not thereat to grudge Nor fondly thinke it strange For if said she I might the parts dispose I wish you not a hundred Armes nor Hands But hundred things like those With which Priapus in our Garden stands The quality of a Kisse THe kisse with so much strife Which I late got sweet Heart Was it a sign of Death or was it Life Of Life it could not be For I by it did sigh my Soule in thee Ne was it Death Death doth no joy impart Thou silent stand'st ah what did'st thou bequeath A dying Life to me or living Death His Ladies Dog WHen Her deare Bosome clips That little Cur which fawnes to touch her Lips Or when it is his hap To lie lap'd in her Lap O it grows Noon with me With hotter-pointed Beames I burne then those are which the Sun forth streames When piercing lightning his Rayes call'd may be And as I muse how I to shose extreames Am brought I find no Cause except that She In Loves bright Zodiack having trac'd each Roome To the hot Dog-star now at last is come An Almanack THis strange Ecclipse one saies Strange Wonders doth foretell But you whose Wives excell And love to count their Praise Shut all your gates your Hedges plant with Thornes The Sun did threat the World this time with Hornes The Silk-Worme of Love A Daedale of my Death Now I resemble that slie worme on Earth Which prone to its own harme doth take no rest For Day and Night opprest I feed on fading Leaves Of Hope which me deceives And thousand Webs do warpe within my Brest And thus in end unto my selfe I weave A fast-shut Prison or a closer Grave Deep impression of Love to his Mistris WHom a mad Dog doth bite He doth in Water still That mad Dogs Image see Love mad perhaps when he my Heart did smite More to dissemble his Ill Transform'd himselfe to thee For thou art present ever since to me No Spring there is no Floud nor other Place Where I alas not see thy Heavenly Face A Chaine of Gold ARe not those Locks of Gold Sufficient Chaines the wildest Hearts to hold Is not that Ivory Hand A Diamantine Band Most sure to keep the most untamed Mind But ye must others find O yes why is that Golden One then woâ—ne Thus free in Chaines perhaps Loves Chaines to scorne On the Death of a Linnet IF cruell Death had Eares Or could be pleas'd by Songs This wing'd Musician had lâ—v'd many yeares And Nisa mine had never wâ—pt these Wrongs For when it first took Breath The Heavens their Notes did unto it bequeath And if that Samians sentences be true Amphion in this Body liv'd anew But Death who nothing spares and nothing heares As he doth Kings kill'd it O Griefe O Teares Lillas Prayer LOve if thou wilt once more That I to thee returne Sweet God make me not burn For quivering Age that doth spent Daies deplore Nor do thou wound my Heart For some unconstant Boy Who joyes to love yet makes of Love a Toy But ah if I must prove thy golden Dart Of grace O let me find A sweet young Lover with an aged Mind Thus Lilla pray'd and Idas did reply Who heard Deare have thy wish for such am I. Armelins Epitaph NEare to this Eglantine Enclosed lies the milke-white Armeline Once Cloris only joy Now only her annoy Who envied was of the most happy Swaines That keep their Flocks in Mountaines Dales or Plains For oft she bore the wanton in her Arme And oft her Bed and Bosome did he warme Now when unkinder Fates did him destroy Blest Dog he had the Grace That Cloris for him wet with teares her Face Epitaph THe Bawd of Justice he who Laws controll'd And made them fawn and frown as he got gold That Proteus of our State whose Heart and Mouth Were farther distant than is North from South That Cormorant who made himselfe so grosse On Peoples Ruine and the Princes Losse Is gone to Hell and though he here did evill He there perchance may prove an honest Devill A Translation FIerce Robbers were of old Exil'd the Champian Ground From Hamlets chas'd in Cities kill'd or bound And only Woods Caves Mountaines did them hold But now when all is sold Woods Mountaines Caves to good Men be refuge And do the Guiltlesse lodge And clad in Purple Gowns The greatest Theeves command within the Towns Epitaph THen Death thee hath beguil'd Alectos first borne Child Then thou who thrall'd all Laws Now against Wormes cannot maintaine thy Cause Yet Wormes more just than thou now do no Wrong Since all do wonder they thee spar'd so long For though from Life thou didst but lately passe Twelve Springs are gone since thou corrupted was Come Citizens erect to death an Altar Who keeps you from Axe Fuell Timber Halter A Jest. IN a most holy Church a holy man Vnto a holy Saint with Visage wan And Eyes like Fountaines mumbled forth a Prayer And with strange Words and Sighs made black the Aire And having long so stay'd and long long pray'd A thousand crosses on himselfe he lay'd And with some sacred Beads hung on his Armâ— His Eyes his Mouth his Temples Brest did charme Thus not content strange Worship hath no
end To kisse the Earth at last he did pretend And bowing down besought with humble grace An aged Woman neare to give some place She turn'd and turning up her Hole beneath Said Sir kisse here for it is all but Earth Proteus of Marble THis is no work of Stone Though it seems breathlesse cold and sense hath nonâ— But that 〈◊〉 God which keeps The monstroâ—â— people of the raging Deeps Now that he doth not change his shape this while It is thus constant more you to beguile Pamphilus SOme Ladies wed some love and some adore them I like their wanton sport then care not for them Apelles enamour'd of Campaspe Alexanders Mistris POore Painter while I sought To counterfeit by Art The fairest Frame which Nature ever wrought And having limm'd each Part Except her matchlesse Eyes Scarce on those Suns I gaz'd As Lightning falls from Skies When straight my Hand grew weake my Mind amazd And ere that Pencill halfe them had exprest Love had them drawn no grav'd them in my Brest Campaspe ON Stars shall I exclaime Which thus my Fortune change Or shall I else revenge Upon my selfe this shame Inconstant Monarch or shall I thee blame Who lets Apelles prove The sweet Delights of Alexanders Love No Stars my selfe and thee I all forgive And Joyes that thus I live Of thee blind King my Beauty was despis'd Thou didst not know it now being known 't is priz'd Cornucopia IF for one only Horne Which Nature to him gave So famous is the noble Unicorne What praise should that Man have Whose Head a Lady brave Doth with a goodly paire at once adorne Love suffers no Parasol THose Eyes deare Eyes be Spheares Where two bright Suns are roll'd That faire Hand to behold Of whitest Snow appeares Then while ye coyly stand To hide from me those Eyes Sweet I would you advise To chuse some other fanne than that white Hand For if ye do for truth most true this know Those Suns ere long must needs consume warme Snow Unpleasant Musick IN fields Ribaldo stray'd Mayes Tapestry to see And hearing on a Tree A Cuckow sing sigh'd to himselfe and said Loe how alas even Birds sit mocking me Sleeping Beauty O Sight too dearely bought Shee sleeps and though those Eyes Which lighten Cupids Skies Be clos'd yet such a grace Environeth that Place That I through Wonder to grow faint am brought Suns if ecclips'd you have such power divine What power have I t' endure you when you shine Alcons Kisse WHat others at their Eare Two Pearles Camilla at her Nose did weare Which Alcon who nought saw For Love is blind robb'd with a pretty Kisse But having known his misse And felt what Ore he from that Mine did draw When she to come again did him desire He fled and said foule Water quenched Fire The Statue of Venus sleeping PAssenger vexe not thy Mind To make me mine Eyes unfold For if thou shouldst them behold Thine perhaps they will make blind Laura to Petrarch I Rather love a Youth and childish Rime Than thee whose Verse and Head are wise through Time The Rose FLow'r which of Adons Bloud Sprang when of that cleare Floud Which Venus wept another white was borne The sweet Cynarean Youth thou lively shows But this sharpe-pointed Thorne So proud about thy Crimsin Folds that grows What doth it represent Boares Teeth perhaps his milk-white Flanke which rent O show in one of unesteemed Worth That both the kill'd and killer setteth forth A Lovers Prayer NEare to a Christall Spring With Thirst and Heat opprest Narcissa faire doth rest Trees pleasant Trees which those green plains forth bring Now interlace your trembling Tops above And make a Canopy unto my Love So in Heavens highest House when Sun appeares Aurora may you cherish with her Teares Iolas Epitaph HEre deare Iolas lies Who whilst he liv'd in Beauty did surpasse That Boy whose heavenly Eyes Brought Cypris from above Or him to death who look'd in watry Glasse Even Judge the God of Love And if the Nymph once held of him so deare Dorine the faire would here but shed one Teare Thou shouldst in Natures scorne A Purple Flow'r see of this Marble borne The Trojan Horse A Horse I am who bit Reine rod Spur do not feare When I my Riders beare Within my Wombe not on my Back they sit No streames I drinke nor care for Grasse or Corne Art me a Monster wrought All Natures workes to scorne A Mother I was without Mother borne In end all arm'd my Father I forth brought What thousand Ships and Champions of renowne Could not do free captiv'd I raz'd Troy's Town For Dorus. WHy Nais stand ye nice Like to a well wrought Stone When Dorus would you kisse Denie him not that blisse He 's but a Child old Men be Children twice And even a Toothlesse one And when his Lips yours touch in that delight Ye need not feare he will those Cherries bite Love vagabonding SWeet Nymphs if as ye stray Ye find the froth-borne Goddesse of the Sea All blubb'red pale undone Who seeks her giddy Son That little God of Love Whose golden shafts your chastests Bosomes prove Who leaving all the Heavens hath run away If ought to him that finds him she 'll impart Tell her he nightly lodgeth in my Heart To a River SIth She will not that I She to the World my Joy Thou who oft mine annoy Hast heard deare Floud tell Thetis if thou can That not a happier Man Doth breathe beneath the Skie More sweet more white more faire Lips Hands and Amber Haire Tell none did ever touch A smaller daintier Waste Tell never was embrac't But peace since she forbids thee tell too much Lida SVch Lida is that who her sees Through Envy or through Love straight dies Phraene A Onian Sisters help my Phraenes Praise to tell Phraene heart of my heart with whom the Graces dwell For I surcharged am so sore that I not know What first to praise of 〈…〉 Brest or Neck of Snow Her Cheeks with Roses spred or her two Sun-like Eyes Her teeth of brightest pearl her lips where Sweetnes lies But those so praise themselves being to all Eyes set forth That Muses ye need not to say ought of their Worth Then her white swelling Paps essay for to make known But her white swelling paps through smallest vail are shown Yet She hath something else more worthy than the rest Not seen go sing of that which lies beneath her brest And mounts like fair Parnasse where Pegasse well doth run Here Phraene stay'd my Muse ere she had well begun Kisses desired THough I with strange Desire To kisse those rosie Lips am set on fire Yet will I cease to crave Sweet kisses in such store As he who long before In thousands them from Lesbia did receive Sweet heart but once me kisse And I by that sweet blisse Even sweare to cease you to importune more Poore one no number is Another Word of me ye shall not
our Death But Fathers Justice pleas'd Hell Death o'recome In triumph now thou risest from thy Tombe With Glories which past Sorrows countervaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile Hence humble sense and hence ye Guides of sense We now reach Heaven your weake intelligence And searching Pow'rs were in a flash made 〈◊〉 To learne from all Eternity that him The Father bred then that he here did come His Bearers Parent in a Virgins Wombe But then when sold betray'd crown'd scourg'd with Thorn Nail'd to a Tree all breathlesse bloudlesse torne Entomb'd him risen from a Grave to find Confounds your Cunning turnes like Moles you blind Death thou that heretofore still barren wast Nay didst each other Bâ—rth eate up and waste Imperious hatefull pittilesse unjust Unpartiall equaller of all with dust Sterne Executioner of heavenly doome Made fruitfull now Lifes Mother art become A sweet reliefe of Cares the Soule molest An Harbinger to Glory Peace and Rest Put off thy mourning Weeds yeeld all thy Gall To dayly sinning Life proud of thy fall Assemble all thy Captives haste to rise And every Coarse in Earth-quakes where it lies Sound from each flowry Grave and rocky Jaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile The World that wanning late and faint did lie Applauding to our Joyes thy Victory To a young Prime Essayes to turne againe And as ere soyl'd with Sin yet to remaine Her chilling Agues she begins to misse All Blisse returning with the Lord of Blisse With greater light Heavens Temples opened shine Morns smiling rise Evens blushing do decline Clouds dappled glister boist'rous Winds are calme Soft Zephyres do the Fields with sighs embalme In silent calmes the Sea hath husht his Roares And with enamour'd Curles doth kisse the Shoares All-bearing Earth like a new-married Queene Her Beauties hightens in a Gown of Greene Perfumes the Aire her Meads are wrought with flow'rs In colours various figures smelling pow'rs Trees wanton in the Groves with leavy Locks Her Hâ—lls enamell'd stand the Vales the Rocks Ring peales of Joy her Floods and pratling Brookes Stars liquid Mirrors with serpenting Crooks And whispering murmures sound unto the Maine The Golden Age returned is againe The honey People leave their golden Bow'rs And innocently prey on budding Flow'rs In gloomy Shades percht on the tender Sprayes The painted Singers fill the Aire with Layes Seas Floods Earth Aire all diversly do sound Yet all their diverse Notes hath but one ground Re-eccho'd here-down from Heavens azure Vaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile O Day on which Deaths Adamantine Chaine The Lord did breake did ransack Satans Raigne And in triumphing Pompe his Trophees rear'd Be thou blest ever henceforth still endear'd With Name of his own Day the Law to Grace Types to their substance yeeld to thee give place The old New-Moons with all festivall Daies And what above the rest deserveth praise The reverend Sabaoth what could else they be Than golden Heraulds telling what by thee We should enjoy Shades past now shine thou cleare And henceforth be thou Empresse of the yeare This Glory of thy Sisters Sex to win From worke on thee as other Daies from Sin That Mankind shall forbeare in every place The Prince of Planets warmeth in his race And far beyond his paths in frozen Climes And may thou be so blest to out-date Times That when Heavens Quire shall blaze in Accents loud The many Mercies of their soveraigne Good How he on thee did Sin Death Hell destroy It may be still the Burthen of their Joy BEneath a sable vaile and Shadows deep Of unaccessible and dimming light In silence Ebon clouds more black than Night The Worlds great Mind his secrets hid doth keep Through those thick Mists when any mortall Wight Aspires with halting pace and Eyes that weep To pry and in his Mysteries to creep With Thunders he and Lightnings blasts their Sight O Sun invisible that dost abide Within thy bright abysmes most faire most darke Where with thy proper Raies thou dost thee hide O ever-shining never full-seene marke To guide me in Lifes Night thy light me show The more I search of thee the lesse I know IF with such passing Beauty choice Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible short lists of Fame And silly Mansion but of dying Wights How many Wonders what amazing lights Must that triumphing Seat of Glory claime That doth transcend all this All 's vaste hights Of whose bright Sun ours here is but a beame O blest abode O happy dwelling-place Where visibly th' Invisible doth raigne Blest People which do see true Beauties Face With whose far Shadows scarce he Earth doth daigne All Joy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Maâ—ch'd with your endlesse Blisse and happy life LOve which is here a care That Wit and Will doth mar Uncertaine Truce and a most certaine War A shrill tempestuous Wind Which doth disturbe the Mind And like wild Waves all our designes commove Among those Pow'rs above Which see their Makers Face It a contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure void of Griefe a constant rest Eternall Joy which nothing can molest THat space where curled Waves do now divide From the great Continent our happy Isle Was sometime Land and now where Ships do glide Once with laborious Art the Plough did toyle Once those faire Bounds stretcht out so far and wide Where Towns no Shires enwall'd endeare each mile Were all ignoble Sea and marish vile Where Proteus Flocks danc'd measures to the Tide So Age transforming all still forward runs No wonder though the Earth doth change her Face New Manners Pleasures new turne with new Suns Locks now like Gold grow to an hoary grace Nay Minds rare shape doth change that lies despis'd Which was so deare of late and highly priz'd THis World a Hunting is The Prey poore Man the Nimrod fierce is Death His speedy Grayhounds are Lust Sicknesse Envy Care Strife that ne're falls amiss With all those ills which haunt us while we breath Now if by chance we flie Of these the eager chace Old Age with stealing pace Casts on his Nets and there we panting die WHy Worldlings do ye trust fraile Honours dreames And leane to guilted Glories which decay Why do ye toyle to registrate your Names On Ycie Pillars which soon melt away True Honour is not here that place it claimes Where black-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no far-shining lampe dives in the Sea But an eternall Sun spreads lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sp'rits stand gazing on their soveraigne Blisse Where yeares not hold it in their cank'ring hands But who once noble ever noble is Look home lest he your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall AS are those Apples pleasant to the Eye But full of smoake within which use to grow Neere that strange Lake where God powr'd from the Skie Huge show'rs of flames worse flames to overthrow Such are
their works that with a glaring Show Of humble holinesse in Vertues dye Would colour mischiefe while within they glow With coales of Sin though none the Smoake descry Bad is that Angell that earst fell from Heaven But not so bad as he nor in worse case Who hides a trait'rous mind with smiling face And with a Doves white feathers cloaths a Raven Each Sin some colour hath it to adorne Hypocrisie All-mighty God doth scorne NEw doth the Sun appeare The Mountaines Snows decay Crown'd with fraile flow'rs forth comes the Infant yeare My Soule Time posts away And thou yet in that frost Which Flow'r and fruit hath lost As if all here immortall were dost stay For shame thy Powers awake Look to that Heaven which never Night makes blacke And there at that immortall Suns bright Raies Deck thee with Flow'rs which feare not rage of Daies THrice happy he who by some shady Grove Far from the clamorous World doth live his own Though solitary who is not alone But doth converse with that eternall Love O how more sweet is Birds harmonious Moane Or the hoarse Sobbings of the widow'd Dove Than those smooth whisperings neer a Princes Throne Which Good make doubtfull do the evill approve O how more sweet is Zephyres wholesome Breath And Sighs embalm'd which new-born Flow'rs unfold Than that applause vaine Honour doth bequeath How sweet are Streames to poyson dranke in Gold The World is full of Horrours Troubles Slights Woods harmelesse Shades have only true Delights SWeet Bird that sing'st away the earely Houres Of Winters past or comming void of Care Well pleased with Delights which present are Faire Seasons budding Spraies sweet-smelling Flow'rs To Rocks to Springs to Rills from leavy Bow'rs Thou thy Creators Goodnesse dost declare And what deare Gifts on thee he did not spare A staine to humane sense in Sin that low'rs What Soule can be so sick which by thy Songs Attir'd in sweetnesse sweetly is not driven Quite to forget Earths turmoiles spights and Wrongs And lift a reverend Eye and Thought to Heaven Sweet Artlesse Songster thou my Mind dost raise To Ayres of Spheares yes and to Angels Layes AS when it hapneth that some lovely Town Unto a barbarous Besieger falls Who both by Sword and Flame himselfe enstalls And shamelesse it in Teares and Bloud doth drown Her Beauty spoyl'd her Citizens made Thralls His spight yet cannot so her all throw down But that some Statue Pillar of renown Yet lurkes unmaim'd within her weeping walls So after all the Spoile Disgrace and Wrack That Time the World and Death could bring combin'd Amidst that Masse of Ruines they did make Safe and all scarlesse yet remaines my Mind From this so high transcendent Rapture springs That I all else defac'd not envy Kings LEt us each day enure our selves to dye If this and not our feares be truly Death Above the Circles both of Hope and Faith With faire immortall Pinnions to flie If this be Death our best Part to untye By ruining the Jaile from Lust and Wrath And every drowsie languor here beneath To be made deniz'd Citizen of Skie To have more knowledge than all Books containe All Pleasures even surmounting wishing Pow'r The fellowship of Gods immortall Traine And these that Time nor force shall e're devoure If this be Death What Joy what golden care Of Life can with Deaths ouglinesse compare AMidst the azure cleare Of Jordans sacred Streames Jordan of Libanon the off-spring deare When Zephires flow'rs unclose And Sun shines with new Beaâ—es With grave and stately grace a Nymph arose Upon her Head she ware Of Amaranthes a Crown Her left hand Palmes her right a Torch did beare Unvail'd Skins whiteness lay Gold haires in Curles hang down Eyes sparkled Joy more bright than Star of Day The Floud a Throne her rear'd Of Waves most like that Heaven Where beaming Stars in Glory turne ensphear'd The Aire stood calme and cleare No Sigh by Winds was given Birds left to sing Heards feed her voice to heare World-wandring sorry Wights Whom nothing can content Within these varying lists of Daies and Nights Whose life ere known amiss In glittering Griefes is spent Come learne said she what is your choisest Bliss From Toyle and pressing Cares How ye may respit find A Sanctuary from Soule-thralling Snares A Port to harbour sure In spight of waves and wind Which shall when Times swift Glass is run endure Not happy is that Life Which you as happy hold No but a Sea of feares a Field of strife Charg'd on a Throne to sit With Diadems of Gold Preserv'd by Force and still observ'd by Wit Huge Treasures to enjoy Of all her Gems spoyle Inde All Seres silke in Garments to imploy Deliciously to feed The Phoenix plumes to find To rest upon or deck your purple Bed Fraile Beauty to abuse And wanton Sybarites On past or present touch of sense to muse Never to heare of Noise But what the Eare delights Sweet Musicks charmes or charming flatterers voice Nor can it Bliss you bring Hid Natures Depths to know Why matter changeth whence each forme doth spring Nor that your Fame should range And after-Worlds it blow From Tanais to Nile from Nile to Gange All these have not the Pow'r To free the Mind from feares Nor hideous horrour can allay one houre When Death in stealth doth glance In Sickness lurks or yeares And wakes the Soule from out her mortall Tranâ—e No but blest life is this With chaste and pure Desire To turne unto the load-star of all Bliss On God the Mind to rest Burnt up with sacred Fire Possessing him to be by him possest When to the baâ—lmy East Sun doth his light impart Or when he diveth in the lowly West And ravisheth the Day With spotlesse Hands and Heart Him cheerefully to praise and to him pray To heed each action so As ever in his sight More fearing doing Ill than passive woe Not to seeme other thing Than what ye are aright Never to do what may Repentance bring Not to be blown with Pride Nor mov'd at Glories breath Which Shadow-like on wings of Time doth glide So Malice to disarme And conquer hasty Wrath As to do good to those that worke your harme To hatch no base Desires Or Gold or Land to gaine Well pleas'd with that which Vertue faire acquires To have the Wit and Will Consorting in one Straine Than what is good to have no higher skill Never on Neighbours Goods With Cocatrices Eye To looke nor make anothers Heaven your Hell Nor to be Beauties Thrall All fruitlesse Love to flie Yet loving still a Love transcendent all A Love which while it burnes The Soule with fairest Beames To that increaâ—ed Sun the Soule it turnes And makes such Beauty prove That if Sense saw her Gleames All lookers on would pine and die for love Who such a life doth live You happy even may call Ere ruthlesse Death a wished end him give And after then when given More happy by his fall
and wonder Halfe in a trance I lay those Arches under The season silence place began t' entise Eyes drowsie lids to bring Night on their Skies Which softly having stollen themselves together Like evening Clouds me plac'd I wot not whether As Cowards leave the Fort which they should keep My senses one by one gave place to Sleep Who followed with a troupe of golden Slumbers Thrust from my quiet Braine all base encumbers And thrice me touching with his Rod of Gold A Heaven of Visions in my Temples roll'd To countervaile those Pleasures were bereft me Thus in his silent Prison clos'd he left me Me thought through all the neighbour Woods a noise Of Quiristers more sweet than Lute or voice For those harmonious sounds to Jove are given By the swift touches of the nine-string'd Heaven Such aires and nothing else did wound mine Eare No Soule but would become all Eare to heare And whilst I listning lay O lovely wonder I saw a pleasant Mirtle cleave asunder A Mirtle great with birth from whose rent wombe Three naked Nymphs more white than Snow forth come For Nymphs they seem'd about their heavenly faces In Waves of Gold floted their curling Tresses About their armes their Armes more white than milke They blushing Armlets wore of crimson Silke The Goddesses were such that by Scamander Appeared to the Phrygian Alexander Aglaia and her Sisters such perchance Be when about some sacred Spring they dance But scarce the Grove their naked Beauties graced And on the Verdure had each other traced When to the Floud they ran the Floud in Robes Of curling Christall their brests Ivory Globes Did all about incircle yet took pleasure To show white Snows throughout her liquid Azure Look how Prometheus Man when heavenly fire First gave him Breath Daies Brandon did admire And wondred at this Worlds Amphitheater So gaz'd I on those new guests of the Water All three were faire yet one excell'd as far The rest as Phoebus doth the Cyprian Star Or Diamonds small Gems or Gems do other Or Pearls that shining shell is call'd their Mother Her Haire more bright than are the Mornings Beames Hung in a golden shower above the Streames And dangling sought her fore-head for to cover Which seen did straight a Skie of Milke discover With two faire Brows Loves Bows which never bend But that a golden Arrow forth they send Beneath the which two burning Planets glancing Flasht flames of Love for Love there still is dancing Her either Cheeke resembled blushing Morne Or Roses Gueles in field of Lillies borne 'Twixt which an Ivory Wall so faire is raisâ—d That it is but abased when it 's praised Her Lips like Rows of Corrall soft did swell And th' one like th' other only doth excell The Tyrian Fish looks pale pale look the Roses The Rubies pale when mouth sweet Cherry closes Her Chin like silver Phoebe did appeare Darke in the midst to make the rest more cleare Her Neck seem'd fram'd by curious Phidias Master Most smooth most white a peece of Alabaster Two foaming Billows flow'd upon her brest Which did their tops with Corrall red encrest There all about as Brooks them sport at leisure With Circling Branches veines did swell in azure Within those crookes are only found those Isles Which Fortunate the dreaming old World stiles The rest the Streames did hide but as a Lilly Sunke in a Christals faire transparent Belly I who yet humane weaknesse did not know For yet I had not felt that Archers Bow Nor could I thinke that from the coldest Water The wâ—nged Yongling burning Flames could scatter On every part my vagabonding sight Did cast and drowne mine Eyes in sweet Delight O wondrous thing said I that Beauty is named Now I perceive I heretofore have dreamed And never found in all my flying Daies Joy unto this which only merits praise My pleasures have been paines my comforts crosses My treasure poverty my gaines but losses O precious sight which none doth else descry Except the burning Sun and quivering I. And yet O deare-bought Sight O would for ever I might enjoy you or had joy'd you never O happy Floud if so ye might abide Yet ever glory of this Moments Pride Adjure your Rillets all for to behold Her And in their Christall Armes to come and fold Her And sith ye may not long this Blesse embrace Draw thousand Pourtraits of Her on your Face Pourtraits which in my Heart be more apparent If like to yours my Brest but were transparent O that I were while She doth in you play A Daulphine to transport Her to the Sea To none of all those Gods I would Her render From Thule to Inde though I should with Her wander Oh! what is this the more I fixe mine Eye Mine Eye the more new Wonders doth espie The more I spie the more in uncouth fashion My Soule is ravish'd in a pleasant passion But looke not Eyes as more I would have said A sound of ratling Wheeles me all dismaid And with the sound forth from the trembling Bushes With storme-like course a sumptuous Chariot rushes A Chariot all of Gold the Wheeles were Gold The Nailes and Axel Gold on which it roll'd The upmost part a Scarlet Vaile did cover More rich than Danaes Lap spred with her Lover In midst of it in a triumphing Chaire A Lady sate miraculously faire Whose pensive Countenance and looks of Honour Do more allure the mind that thinketh on Her Than the most wanton Face and amorous Eyes That Amathus or flowry Paphos sees A Crue of Virgins made a Ring about Her The Diamond she they seem the Gold without Her Such Thetis is when to the Billows rore With Mermaids nice she danceth on the Shore So in a sable Night the Suns bright Sister Among the lesser twinckling Lights doth glister Faire Yoakes of Ermelines whose Colour passe The whitest Snows on aged Grampius Face More swift than Venus Birds this Chariot guided To the astonish'd Banke where as it bided But long it did not bide when poore those Streames Aye me it made transporting those rich Gemmes And by that Burthen lighter swiftly drived Till as me thought it at a Tow'r arrived Upon a Rock of Christall shining cleare With Diamonds wrought this Castell did appeare Who rising spires of Gold so high them reared That Atlas like it seem'd the Heaven they beared Amidst which Hights on Arches did arise Arches which guilt Flames brandish to the Skies Of sparking Topaces Proud Gorgeous Ample Like to a little Heaven a sacred Temple The Walls no Windows have nay all the Wall Is but one Window Night there doth not fall More when the Sun to Westerne Worlds declineth Than in our Zenith when at Noone He shineth Two flaming Hills the passage strait defend Which to this radiant Building doth ascend Upon whose Arching tops on a Pilastre A Port stands open rais'd in Loves Disastre For none that narrow Bridge and gate can passe Who have their Faces seen in Venus Glasse If
those within but to come forth do venter That stately Place againe they never enter The Precinct's strengthened with a Ditch of Feares In which doth swell a Lake of Inky Teares Of madding Lovers who abide their moaning And thicken even the Aire with pitious groaning This Hold to brave the Skies the Destines fram'd And then the Fort of Chastity is nam'd The Queen of the third Heaven once to appall it The God of Thrace Here brought who could not thrall it For which he vow'd ne're Arms more to put on And on Riphean Hils was heard to groan Here Psyches Lover hurles his Darts at randon Which all for nought him serve as doth his Brandon What grievous Agony did invade my Mind When in that Place my Hope I saw confin'd Where with high-towring Thoughts I only reacht her Which did burne up their Wings when they approacht her Me thought I set me by a Cypresse shade And Night and Day the Hyacinthe there read And that bewailing Nightingales did borrow Plaints of my Plaint and sorrows of my Sorrow My food was Worm-wood mine own Teares my drinke My rest on Death and sad Mishaps to thinke And for such Thoughts to have my Heart enlarged And ease mine Eyes with brinie Tribute charged Over a Brook I laid my pining Face But then the Brooke as griev'd at my Disgrace A Face Me shew'd so pin'd sad over-clouded That at the Sight afray'd mine Eyes them shrowded This is the guerdon Love this is the Game In end which to thy Servants doth remaine More would I say when Feare made Sleep to leave me And of those fatall Shadows did bereave me But ah alas instead to dreame of Love And Woes I now them in effect did prove For what into my troubled Braine was painted Awak'd I found that Time and Place presented SONNETS AH burning Thoughts now let me take some Rest And your tumultuous Broyles a while appease Is 't not enough Stars Fortune Love molest Me all at once but ye must too displease Let Hope though false yet lodge within my brest My high Attempt though dangerous yet praise What though I trace not right Heavens steppy waies It doth suffice my Fall shall make me blest I do not doat on Daies I feare not Death So that my Life be good I wish't not long Let me Renown'd live from the Worldly Throng And when Heaven lists recall this borrowed Breath Men but like Visions are Time all doth claime He lives who dies to win a lasting Name SON THat learned Grecian who did so excell In Knowledge passing Sense that he is nam'd Of all the after Worlds Divine doth tell That all the Time when first our Soules are fram'd Ere in these Mansions blind they come to dwell They live bright Rayes of that Eternall light And others see know love in Heavens great height Not toyld with ought to Reason do rebell It is most true for straight at the first sight My Mind me told that in some other place It elsewhere saw th' Idea of that face And lov'd a love of Heavenly pure delight What wonder now I feele so faire a flame Sith I her lov'd ere on this Earth She came SON NOr Arne nor Mincius nor stately Tiber Sebethus nor the Flood into whose streames He fell who burnt the world with borrowed beames Gold-rolling Tagus Munda famous Iber Sorgue Rosne Loire Garron nor proud-banked Seinâ— Peneus Phasis Xanthus humble Ladon Nor She whose Nymphes excell her loved Adon Faire Tamesis nor Ister large nor Rheine Euphrates Tigrâ—s Indus Hermus Gange Pearly Hydaspes Serpent-like Meander The Floud which robbed Hero of Leander Nile that far far his hidden Head doth range Have ever had so rare a cause of praise As Ora where this Northerne Phoenix stayes SON TO heare my plaints faire River Christalline Thou in a silent slumber seems to stay Delicious Flowers Lilly and Columbine Ye bow your Heads when I my Woes display Forrests in you the Mirtle Palme and Bay Have had compassion listning to my groanes The Winds with sighs have solemniz'd my moanes 'Mong leaves which whisper'd what they could not say The Caves the Rocks the Hills the Sylvans Thrones As if even pitty did in them appeare Have at my sorrow rent their ruthlesse stones Each thing I find hath sence except my Deare Who doth not thinke I love or will not know My Griefe perchance delighting in my woe SON SWeet Brook in whose cleare Christall I my eyes Have oft seen great in labour of their teares Enamell'd Banke whose shining gravell beares These sad Characters of my miseries High Woods whose mounting tops menace the Sphears Wild Citizens Amphions of the Trees You gloomy Groves at hottest Noons which freeze Elysian shades which Phoebus never cleares Vaste solitary Mountaines pleasant Plaines Embroydred Meads that Ocean-waies you reach Hills Dales Springs All whom my sad cry constraines To take part of my plaints and learne woes speech Will that remorselesse faire e're pity show Of grace now answer if ye ought know No. SON WIth flaming Horns the Bull now brings the yeare Melt do the Mountains rouling flouds of Snow The silver Rivers in smooth Channels flow The Late-bare Woods green Anadeams do weare The Nightingall forgetting Winters woe Cals up the lazy Morne her notes to heare Spread are those Flow'rs which names of Princes beare Some red some azure white and golden grow Here lowes a Heifer there be-wailing strayes A harmelesse Lambe not far a Stag rebounds The Shepheards sing to grazing flocks sweet Layes And all about the Ecchoing Aire resounds Hils Dales Woods Flouds ev'ry thing doth change But She in rigour I in Love am strange SON THat I so slenderly set forth my Mind Writing I wot not what in ragged Rimes Orecharg'd with brasse in these so golden Times When otherâ— towre so high am left behind I crave not Phoebus leave his sacred Cell To bind my Brows with fresh Aonian Baies But leave 't to those who tuning Sweetest Laies By Tempe sit or Aganippes Well Nor yet to Venus Tree do I aspire Sith She for whom I might affect that praise My best attempts with cruell words gainsaies And I seek not that others me admire Of weeping Myrrhe the Crowne is which I crave With a sad Cypresse to adorne my Grave MADRIGALL WHen as She smiles I find More light before mine Eyes Than when the Sun from Inde Brings to our World a flowry Paradise But when She gently weeps And poures forth pearly showers On cheeks faire blushing flowers A sweet melancholy my senses keeps Both feed so my disease So much both do me please That oft I doubt which more my heart doth burne Love to behold her smile or Pitty mourne SON MY Teares may well Numidian Lions tame And Pity breed into the hardest heart That ever Pyrrha did to Maid impart When She them first of blushing Rocks did frame Ah Eyes which only serve to waile my smart How long will you my inward Woes proclaime May 't not suffice
pale remaine Dead is that Beauty which yours late did staine Aye me to waile my Plight Why have not I as many Eyes as Night Or as that Shepheards which Joves love did keep That I still still may weepe But though I had my Teares unto my crosse Wâ—re not yet equall nor griefe to my losse Yet of you briny Showers Which I â—ere poure may spring as many flow'rs As come of those which fell from Helens Eyes And when ye do arise May every Leafe in sable letters beare The Dolefull Cause for which ye spring up here MAD. THe Beauty and the Life Of Lifes and Beauties fairest Paragon O Teares O Griefe hung at a feeble Thread To which pale Atropos had set her Knife The Soule with many a groane Had left each outward Part And now did take his last Leave of the Heart Nought else did want save Death for to be dead When the sad company about her Bed Seeing Death invade her lips her cheekes her eyes Cried ah and can Death enter Paradise SON O! It is not to me bright Lampe of Day That in the East thou show'sts thy golden Face O! it is not to me thou leav'st that sea And in those azure Lists began'st thy Race Thou shinest not to the Dead in any Place And I dead from this World am past away Or if I seem a Shadow yet to stay It is a while but to bewaile my Case My Mirth is lost my Comforts are dismaid And unto sad Mishaps their Place do yeeld My Knowledge represents a bloudy Field Where I my Hopes and helps see prostrate laid So plaintfull is Lifes Course which I have run That I do wish it never had begun MADRIGALL DEare Night the ease of Care Untroubled Seat of Peace Times eldest Child which oft the blind do see On this our Hemispheare What makes thee now so sadly darke to be Com'st thou in funerall Pomp Her Grave to grace Or do those Stars which should thy horrour cleare In Joves high Hall advise In what Part of the skies With them or Cynthia she shall appeare Or ah alas because those matchlesse eyes Which shone so faire below thou dost not find Striv'st thou to make all others Eyes look blind SON SInce it hath pleas'd that First and supreme Faire To take that Beauty to himselfe againe Which in this world of Sense not to remaine But to amaze was sent and home repaire The Love which to that Beauty I did beare Made Pure of mortall spots which did it staine And endlesse which even Death cannot impaire I place on him who will it not disdaine No shining Eyes no Locks of curling gold No blushing Roses on a virgin Face No outward show no nor no inward Grace Shall power have my thoughts henceforth to hold Love here on Earth huge stormes of care doth tosse But plac'd above exempted is from losse SONG IT Autumne was and on our Hemispheare Faire Ericine began bright to appeare Night West-ward did her gemmy World decline And hide her Lights that greater Light might shine The crested Bird hath given Alarum twice To lazy Mortals to unlock their Eyes The Owle had left to plaine and from each Throne The wing'd Musicians did salute the Morne Who while she dress'd her Locks in Ganges streames Set open wide the chrystall Port of Dreames When I whose Eyes no drousie Night could close In Sleeps soft armes did quietly repose And for that Heavens to die did me deny Deaths Image kissed and as dead did lie I lay as dead but scarce chaâ—m'd were my Cares And slaked scarce my Sighs scarce dried my Teares Sleep scarce the ugly Figures of the Day Had with his sable Pencill put away And left me in a still and calmy Mood When by my Bed me thought a Virgin stood A Virgin in the blooming of her Prime If such rare Beauty measur'd be by Time Her Head a Garland wore of Opalls bright About her flow'd a Gown like purest Light Pure Amber Locks gave Umbrage to her Face Where Modesty high Majesty did grace Her Eyes such Beames sent forth that but with paine Her weaker Sights their sparklings could sustaine No feigned Dâ—ity which haunts the Woods Is like to Her nor Syrene of the Floods Such is the Golden Planet of the Yeare When blâ—shing in the East he doth appeare Her Grace did beauty Voice yet Grace did passe Which thus through Pearles and Rubies broken was How long wilt thou said she estrang'd from Joy Paint Shadows to thy selfe of false Annoy How long thy Mind with horrid Shapes affright And in imaginary Evills delight Esteeme that Losse which well when view'd is Gaine Or if a Losse yet not a Losse too plaine O leave thy plainâ—full Soule more to molest And thinke that woe when shortest then is best If She for whom thou thus dost deafe the Skie Be dead What then Was she not borne to die Was She not mortall borne If thou dost grieve That Times should be in which She should not live Ere e're she was weep that Daies wheele was roll'd Weep that she liv'd not in the Age of Gold For that she was not then thou maiest deplore As well as that she now can be no more If only she had died thou sure hadst Cause To blame the Fates and their too iron Laws But look how many Millions her advance What numbers with her enter in this Dance With those which are to come shall Heavens them stay And th' Universe dissolve thee to obey As Birth Death which so much thee doth apall A Peece is of the Life of this great All. Strong Cities die die do high palmy Raignes And fondling thou thus to be us'd complaines If she be dead then she of loathsome Daies Hath pass'd the Line whose Length but Losse bewraies Then she hath left this filthy Stage of Care Where Pleasure seldome Woe doth still repaire For all the Pleasures which it doth containe Not countervaile the smallest Minutes paine And tell me thou who dost so much admire This little Vapour this poore Sparke of Fâ—re Which Life is call'd what doth it thee bequeath But some few yeares which Birth draws out to Death Which if thou paralell with Lustres run Or those whose courses are but now begun In daâ—es great Numbers they shall lesse appeare Than with the Sea when matched is a Teare But why shouldst thou here longer wish to be One Yeare doth serve all Natures Pompe to see Nay even one Day and Night this Moone that Sun Those lesser Fires about this Round which Run Be but the same which under Saturnes Raigne Did the serpenting Seasons interchaine How oft doth Life grow lesse by living long And what excelleth but what dieth young For Age which all abhor yet would embrace Doth make the Mind as wrinckled as the Face Then leave Laments and thinke thou did'st not live Laws to that first eternall Cause to give But to obey those Laws which he hath given And bow unto the just decrees of Heaven Which cannot
â—râ—e whatever foggy Mists Do blind men in these sublunary Lists But what if she for whom thou spâ—nd'st those Groanes And wastes thy Lifes deare Torch in ruthfull Moanes She for whose sake thou hat'st the joyfull Light Courts solitary Shades and irkesome Night Doth live ah if thou canst through Teares a space Lift thy dimm'd Lights and look upon this Face Look if those Eyes which foole thou didst adore Shine not more bright than they were wont before Looke if those Roses Death could ought impaire Those Roses which thou once saidst were so faire And if these Locks have lost ought of that Golâ— Which once they had when thou them didst behold I live and happy live but thou art dead And still shalt be tâ—ll tâ—ou be lâ—ke me maâ—e Alas while we are wrapt in Gowns of Earth And blind here suck the Aire of Woe beneath Each thing in Senses Ballances we weigh And but with toyle and Paine the truth descry Above this vast and admirable Frame This Temple visible which World we name Within whose Walls so many Lamps do burne So many Arches with crosse motions turne Where the Elementall Brothers nurse their strife And by intestine Wars maintain their Life There is a World a World of perfect Blisse Pure immateriall as brighter far from this As that high Circle which the rest enspheares Is from this dull ignoble Vale of Teares A World where all is found that here is found But further discrepant than Heaven and Ground It hath an Earth as hath this World of yours With Creatures peopled and adorn'd with Flowr's It hath a Sea like Saphire Girdle cast Which decks of the harmonious Shores the Waste It hath pure Fire it hath delicious Aire Moone Sun and Stars Heavens wonderfully faire Flow'rs never there do fade Trees grow not old No Creature dieth there through heat or cold Sea there not tossed is nor Aire made blacke Fâ—re doth not greedy feed on others Wrack There Heavens be not constrain'd about to range For this World hath no need of any Change Minutes mount not to Houres nor Houres to Daies Daies make no Months but ever-blooming Maies Here I remaine and hitherward do tend All who their Span of Daies in Vertue spend What ever Pleasant this low Place containes Is but a Glance of what above remaines Those who perchance there can nothing be Beyond this wide Expansion which they see And that nought else mounts Stars Circumference For that nought else is subject to their sense Feele such a Case as one whom some Abisme In the deep Ocean kept had all his Time Who borne and nourish'd there cannot believe That elsewhere ought without those waves can live Cannot beleeve that there be Temples Tow'rs Which go beyond his Caves and dampish Bowr's Or there be other People Manners Laws Than what he finds within the churlish Waves That sweeter Flow'rs do spring than grow on Rocks Or Beasts there are excell the skaly Flocks That other Elements are to be found Than is the Water and this Ball of Ground But thinke that man from this Abisme being brought Did see what curious Nature here hath wrought Did view the Meads the tall and shady Woods And mark'd the hills and the cleare rowling flouds And all the Beasts which Nature forth doth bring The feathered Troupes that flie and sweetly sing Observ'd the Palaces and Cities faire Mens Fashion of Life the Fire the Aire The brightnesse of the Sun that dims his Sight The Moone and splendors of the painted Night What sudden rapture would his mind surprise How would he his late-deare Resort despise How would he muse how foolish he had been To thinke all nothing but what there was seen Why do we get this high and vast Desire Unto immortall things still to aspire Why doth our Mind extend it beyond Time And to that highest happinesse even clime For we are more than what to Sense we seeme And more than Dust us Worldlings do esteeme We be not made for Earth though here we come More than the Emâ—ryon for the Mothers Wombe It weeps to be made free and we complaine To leave this loathsome Jaile of Care and Paine But thou who vulgar foot-steps dost not trace Learne to rowse up thy mind to view this place And what Earth-creeping Mortals most affect If not at all to scorne yet not to neglect Seek not vaine shadows which when once obtain'd Are better los'd than with such travell gain'd Thinke that on Earth what worldlings Greatnesse call Is but a glorious title to live thrall That Scepters Diadems and Chaires of State Not in themselves but to small Minds are great That those who loftiest mount do hardest light And deepest Falls be from the highest Height That Fame an Eccho is and all Renown Like to a blasted Rose ere Night falls down And though it something were thinke how this Round Is but a little Point which doth it bound O leave that Love which reacheth but to Dust And in that Love Eternall only trust And Beauty which when once it is possest Can only fill the Soule and make it blest Pale Envy jealous Emulations Feares Sighs Plaints Remorse here have no place nor Teares False Joyes vaine Hopes here be not Hate nor Wrath What ends all Love here most augments it Death If such force had the dim Glance of an Eye Which but some few daies afterwards did die That it could make thee leave all other things And like a Taper-fly there burne thy Wings And if a voice of late which could but waile Such Power had as through Eares thy Soule to steale If once thou on that poorely Faire couldst gaze What Flames of Love would this within thee raise In what amusing Maze would it thee bring To â—eare but once that Quire celestiall sing The fairest shapes on which thy Love did sease Which earst didst breed Delight then would displease But Discords hoarse were Earths entising Sounds All Musick but a Noise which Sense confounds This great and burning Glasse which cleares all Eyes And musters with such Glory in the Skies That silver Star which with her purer Light Makes Day oft-Envy the eye pleasing Night Those golden letters which so brightly shine In Heavens great Volume gorgeously divine All wonders in the Sea the Earth the Aire Be but darke Pictures of that Soveraigne Faire And Tongues which still thus cry into your Eare Could ye amidst Worlds Cataracts them heare From fading things fond Men lift your Desire And in our Beauty his us made admire If we seeme faire O thinke how faire is he Of whose great Fairenesse Shadows Steps we be No Shadow can compare unto the Face No Step with that deare foot which did it trace Your Soules immortall are then place them hence And do not drown them in the Mist of Sense Do not O do not by false Pleasures Might Deprive them of that true and sole Delight That Happinesse ye seek is not below Earths sweetest Joy is but disguised Woe Here
did she pause and with a mild Aspect Did towards me those lamping Twins direct The wonted Raies I knew and thrice essay'd To Answer make thrice faulâ—ring Tongue it stay'd And while upon that Face I fed my Sight Me thought she vanisht up to Titans Light Who guilding with his Rayes each Hill and Plaine Seem'd to have brought the Golden World againe URANIA TRiumphing Chariots Statues Crowns of Bayes Skie-threatning Arches the rewards of worth Books heavenly-wise in sweet harmonious layes Which men divine unto the World set forth States which Ambitious Minds in bloud do raise From frozen Tanais unto sun-burnt Gange Gigantall Frames held wonders rarely strange Like Spiders webs are made the sport of Daies Nothing is constant but in constant change What 's done still is undone and when undone Into some other Fashion doth it range Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone Wherefore my Mind above Time Motion Place Rise up and steps unknown to Nature trace TOo long I followed have my fond Desire And too long painted on the Ocean Streames Too long refreshment sought amidst the fire Pursu'd those joyes which to my Soule are Blames Ah when I had what most I did admire And seen of Lifes Delights the last extreames I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer A Nought a Thought a Mascarade of Dreames Henceforth on Thee my only Good I 'll thinke For only thou canst grant what I do crave Thy Naile my Pen shall be thy Bloud mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Grave And till my Soule forth of this body flie No Hope I 'll have but only only thee TO spread the Azure Canopy of Heaven And spangle it all with Sparkes of burning Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold With motions strange t' indue the Planets seven And Jove to make so mild and Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet Accords are given Lord to thy Wisdome's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come basely in Mortality to bide And die for those deserv'd an endlesse night A Wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to thinke on it WHat haplesse Hap had I for to be borne In these unhappy Times and dying Daies Of this now doting World when Good decayes Love 's quite extinct and Vertue 's held a scorne When such are only pris'd by wretched waies Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Avarice and Lust are counted praise And bravest Minds live Orphane-like forlorne Why was not I borne in that golden Age When Gold yet was not known and those black Arts By which Base Worldlings vilely play their parts With Horrid Acts staining Earths stately Stage To have been then O heaven 't had been my bliss But blesse me now and take me soone from this On the Pourtrait of the Countesse of Perthe SON THe Goddesse that in Amathus doth raigne With silver Tramells and Saphir-colour'd Eyes When naked from her Mothers Chrystall Plaine She first appear'd unto the wondring Skies Or when the golden-Apple to obtaine Her blushing Snow amazed Idas Trees Did never look in halfe so faire a guise As She here drawn all other Ages Staine O God what Beauties to inflame the Soule And hold the hardest Hearts in Chaines of Gold Faire Locks sweet Face Loves stately Capitole Pure Neck which doth that heavenly Frame uphold If Vertue would to mortall Eyes appeare To ravish sense She would your Beautie wear SON IF Heaven the Stars and Nature did her grace With all Perfections found the Moone above And what excelleth in this lower Place Found place in her to breed a World of Love If Angels Gleames shine on her fairest Face Which makes Heavens Joy on Earth the gazer prove And her bright Eyes the Orbes which Beauty move As Phoebus dazell in his glorious Race What Pencill paint what Colour to the sight So sweet a Shape can show the blushing Morne The red must lend the Milkie-way the white And Night the Stars which her rich Crown adorne To draw her right then and make all agree The Heaven the Table Zeuxis Jove must be On that same drawn with a Pencill SON WHen with brave Art the curious Painter drew This Heavenly Shape the hand why made he beare With golden Veines that Flow'r of purple hue Which follows on the Planet of the yeare Was it to show how in our Hemispheare Like him She shines nay that effects more true Of Power and Wonder do in her appeare While He but Flow'rs and She doth Minds subdue Or would he else to Vertues glorious light Her constant Course make known or is 't that He Doth paralell her blisse with Clitias plight Right so and thus He reading in Her Eye Some Lovers end to grace what he did grave For Cypres Tree this mourning Flow'r her gave MADRIGALL IF sight be not beguil'd And eyes right play their part This Flower is not of Art But 's fairest Natures Child And though when Titanâ—s from our World exil'd She doth not lock her leaves his losse to moane No wonder Earth finds now more Suns than one To the Author Parthenius WHile thou dost praise the Roses Lillies Gold Which in a dangling Tresse and Face appeare Still stands the Sun in Skies thy Songs to heare A Silence sweet each whispering Wind doth hold Sleep in Pasithea's Lap his Eyes doth fold The Sword falls from the God of the fift Spheare The Heards to feed the Birds to sing forbeare Each Plant breaths Love each Floud and Fountain cold And hence it is that that once Nymph now Tree Who did th' Amphrisian Shepheards Sighs disdaine And scorn'd his Layes mov'd by a sweeter Vaine Is become pitifull and follows Thee Thee loves and vanâ—eth that she hath the Grace A Garland for thy Locks to enterlace Alexis THe Love Alexis did to Damon beare Shall witness'd be to all the Woods and Plaines As singular renown'd by neighbouring Swaines That to our Relicts Time may Trophees reare Those Madrigals we sung amidst our Flocks With Garlands guarded from Apollos Beames On Ochelles whiles neare Bodottias Streames The Ecchoes did resound them from the Rocks Of forraine Shepheards bent to try the States Though I Worlds Guest a Vagabond do stray Thou may that Store which I esteem Survey As best acquainted with my Soules Conceits What ever Fate Heavens have for me design'd I trust thee with the Treasure of my Mind Clorus SWan which so sweetly sings By Aska's Bankes and pitifully plains That old Meander never heard such Straines Eternall Fame thou to thy Country brings And now our Calidon Is by thy Songs made a new Helicon Her Mountaines Woods and Springs While Mountains Woods Springs be shall sound thy praise And though fierce Boreas oft make pale her Bayes And kill those Mirtills with enraged Breath Which should thy Brows enwreath Her Flouds have Pearles Seas
Hydaspes pearly shore Eye-pleasing Meads whose painted Plain forth brings White golden azure Flow'rs which once were Kings To mourning Black their shining Colours dye Bow down their Heads while sighing Zephires fly Queen of the fields whose Blush makes blush the Morn Sweet Rose a Princes Death in Purple mourn O Hyacinths for aye your aye keep still Nay with moe markes of Woe your Leaves now fill And you O Flow'r of Helens teares that 's borne Into these liquid Pearles againe you turne Your green Locks Forrests cut to weeping Mirres To deadly Cypres and Inke-dropping Firres Your Palmes and Mirtles change from shadows dark Wing'd Syrens waâ—le and you sad Ecchoes marke The lamentable Accents of their Moane And plaine that brave Moeliades is gone Stay Skie thy turning Course and now become A stately Arch unto the Earth his Tombe And over it still watry Iris keep And sad Electras Sisters which still weep Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thule to Hydaspes pearly shore Deare Ghost forgive these our untimely Teares By which our loving Mind though weake appeares Our Losse not Thine when we complaine we weep For Thee the glistring Walls of Heaven do keep Beyond the Planets Wheels 'bove highest Source Of Spheares that turnes the lower in his Course Where Sun doth never set nor ugly Night Ever appeares in mourning Garments dight Where Boreas stormy Trumpet doth not sound Nor Clouds in Lightnings bursting Minds astound From Cares cold Climates far and hot Desire Where Time 's exil'd and Ages ne're expire 'Mong purest Spirits environed with Beames Thou think'st all things below t' have been but dreams And joy'st to look down to the azur'd Bars Of Heaven powd'red with Troupes of streaming Stars And in their turning Temples to behold In silver Robe the Moone the Sun in Gold Like young Eye-speaking Lovers in a Dance With Majesty by Turnes retire advance Thou wondrest Earth to see hang like a Ball Clos'd in the mighty Cloyster of this All And that poore Men should prove so madly fond To tosse themselves for a small spot of Ground Nay that they even dare brave the Powers above From this base Stage of Change that cannot move All worldly Pompe and Pride thou seest arise Like Smoake that 's scatt'red in the empty Skies Other high Hils and Forrests other Tow'rs Amaz'd thou findst excelling our poore Bow'rs Courts void of Flattery of Malice Minds Pleasure which lasts not such as Reason blinds Thou sweeter Songs dost heare and Carrollings Whilst Heavens do dance and Quires of Angels sings Then muddy Minds could faine even our Annoy If it approach that Place is chang'd to Joy Rest blessed soule rest satiate with the sight Of him whose Beames though dazling do delight Life of all lives Cause of each other cause The Spheare and Center where the Mind doth pause Narcissus of himselfe himselfe the Well Lover and Beauty that doth all excell Rest happy Soule and wonder in that Glasse Where seen is all that shall be is or was While shall be is or was do passe away And nothing be but an Eternall Day For ever rest thy Praise Fame will enroule In golden Annals while about the Pole The slow Boötes turnes or Sun doth rise With scarlet Scarse to cheare the mourning Skies The Virgins to thy Tombe will Garlands beare Of Flow'rs and with each Flow'r let fall a Teare Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphs deplore From Thule to Hydaspes pearly shore William Drummond OF JET Or PORPHYRIE Or that white Stone PAROS affords alone Or these in AZURE dye Which seem to scorn the SKIE Here Memphis Wonders do not set Nor ARTEMISIA'S huge Frame That keeps so long her Lovers Name Make no great marble Atlas stoop with Gold To please the Vulgar EYE shall it behold The Muses Phoebus Love have raised of their teares A Crystal Tomb to him through which his worth appears STay Passenger see where enclosed lies The Paragon of Princes fairest Frame Time Nature Place could show to mortall Eyes In Worth Wit Vertue Miracle of Fame At least that Part the Earth of him could clame This Marble holds hard like the Destinies For as to his brave Spirit and glorious Name The One the World the other fills the Skies Th' immortall Amaranthus princely Rose Sad Violet and that sweet Flow'r that beares In Sanguine Spots the Tenor of our Woes Spread on this Stone and wash it with your Tears Then go and tell from Gades unto Inde You saw where Earths Perfections were confin'd SON A Passing Glance a Lightning long the skies Which ush'ring Thunder dies straight to our sight A Sparke that doth from jarring mixtures rise Thus drown'd is in th' huge Depths of Day and Night Is this small trifle Life held in such Price Of blinded Wights who ne're judge Ought aright Of Parthian shaft so swift is not the Flight As Life that wastes it selfe and living dies Ah what is humane Greatnesse Valour Wit What fading Beauty Riches Honour Praise To what doth serve in golden Thrones to sit Thrall Earths vaste Round triumphall Arches raise That 's all a Dreame learne in this Princes Fall In whom save Death nought mortall was at all William Drummond To the Reader THe Name which in these Verses is given unto Prince Henry is that which he Himselfe in the Challenges of his Martiall Sports and Mascarads was wont to use MOELIADES Prince of the Isles which in Anagram maketh a Word most worthy of such a Knight as He was a Knight if Time had suffered his Actions answer the Worlds expectation only worthy of such a Word Miles A Deo MADRIGALS AND EPIGRAMS Madrigals and Epigrams The Statue of Medusa OF that Medusa strange Who those that did her see in Rocks did change No Image carv'd is this Medusa's selfe it is For while at heate of Day To quench her Thirst She by this Spring did stay Her hideous Head beholding in this Glasse Her Senses fail'd and thus transform'd she was The Pourtrait of Mars and Venus FAire Paphos wanton Queen Not drawn in White and Red Is truly here as when in Vulcans Bed She was of all Heavens laughing Senate seen Gaze on her Haire and Eine Her Brows the Bows of Love Her back with Lillies spred Ye also might perceive her turne and move But that She neither so will do nor dare For feare to wake the angry God of War Narcissus FLouds cannot quench my Flames ah in this Well I burne not drowne for what I cannot tell Dameta's Dreame DAmetas dream'd he saw his Wife at Sport And found that sight was through the horny Port. Cherries MY Wanton weep no more The losing of your Cherries Those and far sweeter Berries Your Sister in good store Hath in her Lips and Face Be glad kisse her with me and hold your peace Icarus WHile with audacious Wings I cleav'd thâ—se airy Waies And fill'd a Monster new with Dread and Feares The feathered People and their Eagle Kings Dazell'd with Phoebus Rayes And charmed with the Musick
For humanes Earth enjoying Angels Heaven Swift is your mortall Race And glassie is the Field Vaste are Desires not limited by Grace Life a weake Taper is Then while it light doth yeeld Leave flying Joyes embrace this lasting Blisse This when the Nymph had said Shâ—e div'd within the Floud Whose Face with smyling Curles long after staid Then Sighs did Zephyres presse Birds sang from every Wood And Ecchoes rang this was true Happinesse An Hymne on the Fairest Faire I Feele my Bosome glow with wontlesse Fires Rais'd from the vulgar presse my Mind aspires Wing'd with high Thoughts unto his praise to clime From deep Eternity who call'd forth Time That Essence which not mov'd makes each thing move Uncreate Beauty all-creating Love But by so great an object radiant light My Heart appall'd enfeebled rests my Sight Thick Clouds benight my labouring Ingine And at my high attempts my Wits repine If thou in me this sacred heat hast wrought My Knowledge sharpen Sarcells lend my Thought Grant me Times Father world-containing King A Pow'r of thee in pow'rfull Laies to sing That as thy Beauty in Earth lives Heaven shines It dawning may or shadow in my Lines As far beyond the starry walls of Heaven As is the loftiest of the Planets seven Sequestred from this Earth in purest light Out-shining ours as ours doth sable Night Thou all-sufficient Omnipotent Thou ever-glorious most excellent God various in Names in Essence one High art enstalled on a golden Throne Out-stretching Heavens wide bespangled vault Transcending all the Circles of our Thought With diamantine Scepter in thy Hand There thou giv'st Laws and dost this World command This World of Concords rais'd unlikely sweet Which like a Ball lies prostrate at thy Feet If so we may well say and what we say Here wrapt in flesh led by dim Reasons ray To show by earthly Beauties which we see That spirituall Excellence that shines in thee Good Lord forgive not far from thy right Side With curled Locks Youth ever doth abide Rose-cheeked Youth who gaâ—landed with Flow'rs Still blooming ceaselessely unto thee pow'rs Immortall Nectar in a cup of Gold That by no darts of Ages thou grow old And as ends and beginnings thee not claime Successionlesse that thou be still the same Neare to thy other side resistlesse Might From Head to Foot in burnisht Armour dight That rings about him with a waving Brand And watchfull Eye great Sentinell doth stand That neither Time nor force in ought impaire Thy Workmanship nor harme thine Empire faire Soone to give Death to all againe that would Sterne Discord raise which thou destroy'd of old Discord that foe to order Nurse of War By which the noblest things demolisht are But caitife she no Treason doth devise When Might to nought doth bring her enterprise Thy all-upholding Might her Malice raines And her to Hell throws bound in iron Chaines With Locks in waves of Gold that ebbe and flow On Ivory neck in Robes more white than Snow Truth stedfastly before thee holds a Glasse Indent'd with Gems where shineth all that was That is or shall be here ere ought was wrought Thou knew all that thy Pow'r with time forth brought And more things numberlesse which thou couldst make That actually shall never being take Here thou beholdst thy selfe and strange dost prove At once the Beauty Lover and the Love With Faces two like Sisters sweetly faire Whose Blossomes no rough Autumne can impaire Stands Providence and doth her looks disperse Through every Corner of this Universe Thy Providence at once which generall things And singular doth rule as Empires Kings Without whose care this world lost would remaine As Ship withou a Master in the Maine As Chariot alone as Bodies prove Depriv'd of Soules whereby they be live move But who are they which shine thy Throne so neare With sacred countenance and look severâ— This in one hand a pondrous Sword doth hold Her left staies charg'd with Ballances of Gold That with Brows girt with â—ays sweet-smiling Face Doth beare a Brandon with a babish grace Two milke-white Wings him easily do move O she thy Justice is and this thy Love By this thou brought'st this Engine great to light By that it fram'd in Number Measure Weight That destine doth reward to ill and good But Sway of Justice is by Love withstood Which did it not relent and mildly stay This World ere now had found its funerall Day What Bands enâ—â—â—ctred neare to thâ—se abide Which into vaste Infinity them hide Infinity that neither doth admiâ— Place Time nor Number to 〈◊〉 on it Here Bounty sparkleth here doth Beauty shine Simplicity more white than Gelsomine Mercy with open wings aye-varied Blisse Glory and Joy that Blisses darling is Ineffable all-pow'rfull God all free Thou only liv'st and each thing lives by thee No Joy no nor Perfection to thee came By the contriving of this Worlds great Frame Ere Sun Moon Stars began their restlesse race Ere painted was with light Heavens pâ—re Face Ere Aire had Clâ—uâ—s ere Clouds wept down their show'rs Ere Sea embraced Earth ere Earth bare Flow'rs Thou happy liv'dst World nought to thee supply'd All in thy selfe thy selfe thou satisfi'd Of Good no slender Shadow doth appeare No age-worne tâ—aâ—ke which shin'd in thee not cleare Perfections Sum prime-cause of every Cause Midst end beginning where all good doth pause Hence of thy Substance differing in nought Thou in Eâ—ernity thy Son forth brought The only Birth of thy unchanging Mind Thine Image Pattern-like that ever shin'd Light out of Light begotten not by Will But Naâ—ure all and that same Essence still Which thou thy selfe for thou dost nought possesse Which he hath not in ought nor is he lesse Thâ—â— Thee his great Begâ—ttâ—â— of this Light Eternall Double kindled was thy Spright Eternally who is with Thee the same All-holy Gift Embassadour Knot Flame Most sacred Triad O most holy One Unprocreate Father â—ver-procreate Son Ghost breath'd from both you were are still shall be Most blessed Three in One and One in Three Uncomprehensible by reachlesse Hight And unperceived by excessive Light So in our Soules three and yet one are still The Vnderstanding Memory and Will So though unlike the Planet of the Daies So soone as he was made begat his Raies Which are his Off-spring and from both was hurld The rosie Light which consolates the World And none fore-went another so the spring The Well-head and the Streame which they forth bring Are but one selfe-same Essence not in ought Do differ save in order and our Thought No chime of Time discernes in them to fall But Three distinctly â—ide one Essence all But these expresse not Thee who can declare Thy being Men and Angels dazel'd are Who would this Eden force with wit or sense A Cherubin shall find to bar him thence Great Architect Lord of this Universe That light is blinded would thy Greatnesse pierce Ah! as a Pilgrim who the Alpes doth passe Or Atlas Temples crown'd
thee are one that which hath run And that which is not brought yet by the Sun To thee are present who dost alwaies see In present act what past is or to be Day-livers we rememberance do lose Of Ages worne so Miseries us tosse Blind and lethaâ—gick of thy heavenly Grace Which Sin in our first Parents did deface And even while Embrions curst by justest doome That we neglect what gone is or to come But thou in thy great Archives scrolled hast In parts and whole what ever yet hath past Since first the marble Wheels of Time were roll'd As ever living never waxing old Still is the same thy Day and Yesterday An undivided Now a constant Ay. O King whose Greatnesse none can comprehend Whose boundlesse Goodnesse doth to all extend Light of all Beauty Ocean without ground That standing flowest giving dost abound Rich Pallace and Endweller ever blest Never not working ever yet in Rest What wit cannot conceive words say of Thee Here where we as but in a Mirrour see Shadows of shadows Atomes of thy Might Still owly-eyed when staring on thy Light Grant that released from this earthly Jaile And freed from Clouds which here our Knowledge vaile In Heavens high Temples where thy Praises ring In sweeter Notes I may heare Angels sing GReat God whom we with humbled Thoughts adore Eternall Infinite Almighty King Whose Dwellings Heaven transcend whose Throne before Archangels serve and Seraphines do sing Of nought who wrought all that with wondring Eyes We do behold within this various Round Who makes the Rocks to rocke to stand the Skies At whose command Clouds peales of Thunder sound Ah! spare us Wormes weigh not how we alas Evill to our selves against thy Laws rebell Wash off those spots which still in Conscience Glasse Though we be loath to look we see too well Deserv'd Revenge oh do not do not take If thou revenge who shall abide thy Blow Passe shall this World this World which thou didst make Which should not perish till thy Trumpet blow What Soule is found whom Parents Crime not staines Or what with its own Sins defil'd is not Though Iustice Rigor threaten yet her Raines Let Mercy guide and never be forgot Lesse are our Faults far far than is thy Love O what can better seeme thy Grace divine Than they who plagues deserve thy Bounty prove And where thou show'r mayst Vengeance there to shine Then look and pitty pittying forgive Us guilty Slaves or Servants now in thrall Slaves if alas thou look how we do live Or doing ill or doing nought at all Of an ungratefull Mind a foule Effect But if thy Gifts which largely heretofore Thou hast upon us pour'd thou dost respect We are thy Servants nay than Servants more Thy Children yes and Children dearely bought But what strange Chance us of this Lot bereaves Poore worthless Wights how lowly are we brought Whom Grace once Children made Sin hath made Slaves Sin hath made Slaves but let those Bands Grace breake That in our Wrongs thy Mercies may appeare Thy Wisdome not so meane is Pow'r so weake But thousand waies they can make Worlds thee feare O Wisdome boundless O miraculous Grace Grace Wisdome which make winke dimme Reasons Eye And could Heavens King bring from his placeless Place On this ignoble Stage of Care to dye To dye our Death and with the sacred Streame Of Bloud and Water gushing from his Side To make us cleane of that contagious Blame First on us brought by our first Parents Pride Thus thy great Love and Pity heavenly King Love Pity which so well our Loss prevent Of Evill it selfe loe could all Goodness bring And sad beginning cheare with glad event O Love and Pity ill known of these Times O Love and Pity carefull of our need O Bounties which our horrid Acts and Crimes Grown numberless contend neare to exceed Make this excessive ardour of thy love So warme our Coldness so our Lifes renew That we from Sin Sin may from us remove Wisdome our Will Faith may our Wit subdue Let thy pure Love burne up all worldly Lust Hells candid Poyson killing our best part Which makes us joy in Toyes adore fraile Dust Instead of Thee in Temple of our Heart Grant when at last our Soules these Bodies leave Their loathsome Shops of sin and Mansions blind And Doome before thy Royall Seat receive A Saviour more than Judge they thee may find THE WANDRING MUSES OR The River of FORTH FEASTING IT BEING A Panegyrick to the High and Mighty Prince James King of Great Brittaine France and Ireland BY WILLIAM DRUMMOND Of HAVVTHORNDEN LONDON Printed in the Yeare 1656. To His Sacred Majesty IF in this Storme of joy and pompous Throng This Nymph great King doth come to Thee so neare That thy harmonious Eares Her accents heare Give Pardon to Her hoarse and lowly Song Faine would shee Trophees to Thy Vertues reare But for this stately taske She is not strong And her Defects Her high Attempts do wrong Yet as she could She makes thy Worth appeare So in a Map is shown this flowry Place So wrought in Arras by a Virgins Hand With Heaven and blazing Stars doth Atlas stand So drawn by Char-coale is Narcissus Face She like the Morn may be to some bright Sun The Day to perfect that 's by her begun The River of FORTH FEASTING A Panegyrick to the High and Mighty Prince James King of Great Brittaine France and Ireland WHat blustring Noise now interrups my Sleeps What ecchoing Shouts thus cleave my christall Deeps And seems to call me from my watry Court What Melody what sounds of Joy and Sport Are convey'd hither from each Night-borne Spring With what loud Rumours do the Mountaines ring Which in unusuall Pompe on tip-toes stand And full of Wonder overlook the Land Whence come these glitt'ring Throngs these Meteors bright This golden People glancing in my sight Whence doth this Praise Applause and Love arise What Load-star East-ward draweth thus all Eyes Am I awake Or have some Dreames conspir'd To mock my Sense with what I most desir'd View I that living Face see I those Looks Which with Delight were wont t' amaze my Brooks Do I behold that Worth that Man divine This Ages Glory by these Bankes of mine Then find I true what long I wish'd in vaine My much beloved Prince is come againe So unto them whose Zenith is the Pole When six black Months are past the Sun doth roll So after Tempest to Sea-tossed Wights Faire Helens Brothers show their clearing Lights So comes Arabias wonder from her Woods And far far off is seen by Memphis Flouds The feather'd Sylvans Cloud-like by her flie And with triumphing plaudits beat the Skie Nyle marvels Seraps Priests entranced rave And in Mygdonian stone her Shape ingrave In lasting Cedars they do marke the Time In which Apollos Bird came to their Clime Let Mother Earth now deckt with Flow'rs be seen And sweet-breath'd Zephyres curle the Meadows green Let Heaven weep Rubies
in a Crimson show'r Such as on Indies Shores they use to poure Or with that golden Storme the Fields adorne Which Jove rain'd when his Blew-ey'd Maid was born May never Hours the Web of Day out-weave May never Night rise from her sable Cave Swell proud my Billows faint not to declare Your Joyes as ample as their Causes are For Murmurs hoarse sound like Arions Harpe Now delicately flat now sweetly sharp And you my Nymphs rise from your moist Repaire Strow all your Springs and Grots with Lillies faire Some swiftest-footed get them hence and pray Our Flouds and Lakes come keep this Holy-day What e're beneath Albanias Hills do run Which see the rising or the setting Sun Which drinke sterne Grampius Mists or Ochels Snows Stone-rowling Tay Tine Tortoise-like that flows The pearly Don the Deas the fertile Spay Wild Neveâ—ne which doth see our longest Day Nesse smoaking-Sulphur Leave with Mountains crown'd Strange Loumond for his floating Isles renown'd The Irish Rian Ken the silver Aire The snaky Dun the Ore with rushy Haire The christall-streaming Nid loud-bellowing Clyde Tweed which no more our Kingdomes shall divide Ranke-swelling Annan Lid with curled streames The Eskes the Solway where they lose their Names To ev'ry one proclaime our Joyes and Feasts Our Triumphs bid all come and be our Guests And as they meet in Neptunes azure Hall Bid them bid Sea-Gods keep this Festivall This Day shall by our Currents be renown'd Our Hills about shall still this Day resound Nay that our Love more to this Day appeare Let us with it henceforth begin our yeare To Virgins Flow'rs to Sun-burnt Earth the Raine To Mariners faire Winds amidst the Maine Coole Shades to Pilgrims which hot Glances burne Are not so pleasing as thy blest Returne That Day deare Prince which rob'd us of thy sight Day no but Darknesse and a dusky Night Did fill our Brests with Sighs our Eyes with Teares Turn'd Minutes to sad Months sad Months to Yeares Trees left to flourish Meadows to beare Flow'rs Brooks hid their Heads within their sedgie Bow'rs Faire Ceres curst our Fields with barren Frost As if againe she had her Daughter lost The Muses left our Groves and for sweet Songs Sate sadly silent or did weep their wrongs You know it Meads you murmuring Woods it know Hills Dales and Caves Copartners of their Woe And you it know my Streames which from their Eine Oft on your Glasse receiv'd their pearly Brine O Naïds deare said they Napaeas faire O Nymphs of Trees Nymphs which on Hills repaire Gone are those maiden Glories gone that State Which made all Eyes admire our Blisse of late As looks the Heaven when never Star appeares But slow and weary shrowd them in their Spheares While Tithons wife embosom'd by Him lies And World doth languish in a mournfull Guise As looks a Garden of its Beauty spoyl'd As Woods in Winter by rough Bore'as foyl'd As Pourtraits raz'd of Colours use to be So look'd these abject Bounds depriv'd of Thee While as my Rills enjoy'd Thy royall Gleames They did not envy Tibers haughty Streames Nor wealthy Tagus with his golden Ore Nor cleare Hydaspes which on Pearles doth roare Nor golden Gange that sees the Sun new borne Nor Achelous with his flowry Horne Nor Flouds which neare â—lisian Fields do fall For why Thy sight did serve to them for all No Place there is so desart so alone Even from the frozen to the Torrid Zone From flaming Hecla to great Quinceys Lake Which Thy abode could not most happy make All those Perfections which by bounteous Heaven To divers Worlds in divers Times were given The starry Senate powr'd at once on Thee That thou Exemplar mightst to others be Thy Life was kept till the three Sisters spun Their threads of Gold and then it was begun With chequer'd Clouds when Skies do look most faire And no disord'red Blasts disturb the Aire When Lillies do them deck in azure Gowns And new-borne Roses blush with golden Crowns To prove how calme we under Thee should live What Halcyonean Dayes Thy Reigne should give And to two flowry Diadems Thy right The Heavens Thee made a Partner of the Light Scarce wast Thou borne when joyn'd in friendly Bands Two mortall Foes with other clasped Hands With Vertue Fortune strove which most should grace Thy Place for Thee Thee for so high a Place One vow'd Thy sacred Brest not to forsake The other on Thee not to turne her Back And that thou more her loves Effects mightst feele For Thee she left her Globe and broke her Wheele When yeares Thee Vigour gave O then how cleare Did smothered Sparkles in bright Flames appeare Amongst the Woods to force the flying Hart To pierce the Mountaine-Wolfe with feather'd Dart See Faulcons climbe the Clouds the Foxe ensnare Out-run the wind-out-running Daedale Hare To breath thy fiery Steed on every Plaine And in meandring â—yres him bring againe The Prease Thee making Place and vulgar Things In Admirations Aire on Glories Wings O! Thou far from the common Pitch didst rise With thy designs to dazell Envies Eyes Thou soughtst to know this All 's eternall Source Of ever-turning Heavens the restlesse Course Their fixed Lamps their Lights which wandring run Whence Moon her Silver hath his Gold the Sun If Fate there be or no if Planets can By fierce Aspects force the free-will of Man The light aspiring Fire the liquid Aire The flaming Dragons Comets with red Haire Heavens tilting Launces Artillery and Bow Loud-sounding Trumpets Darts of Haile and Snow The roaring Element with People dumbe The Earth with what conceiv'd is in her Wombe What on her moves were set unto thy Sight Till Thou didst find their Causes Essence Might But unto nought Thou so thy Mind didst straine As to be read in Man and learne to raigne To know the Weight and Atlas of a Crown To spare the Humble Proud ones tumble down When from those piercing Cares which Thrones invest As Thornes the Rose thou weari'd would'st thee rest With Lute in Hand full of Coelestiall Fire To the Pierian Groves thou didst retire There gaâ—landed with all Uranias Flow'rs In sweeter Layes than builded Thebes Tow'rs Or them which charm'd the Dolphines in the Maine Or which did call Euridice againe Thou sung'st away the Houres till from their Spheare Stars seem'd to shoot thy Melody to heare The God with golden Haire the Sister Maids Did leave their Helicon and Temp's shades To see thine Isle here lost their native Tongue And in thy world-divided Language sung Who of thine afâ—â—r-age can count the Deeds With all that Fame in Times huge Annals reads How by Example more than any Law This People fierce thou didst to goodnesse draw How while the Neighbour Worlds toss'd by the Fates So many Phaëtons had in their States Which turn'd to heedlesse Flames their burnish'd Thrones Thou as ensphear'd keptst temperate thy Zones In Affrick Shoares the Sands that ebbe and flow The shady Leaves on Ardens Trees that grow
feare and dearest Gem Nor Roman Saxon Pict by sad alarmes Could this acquire and keep the Heavens in armes From us repell all perills nor by wars Ought here was won or gaping wounds and scars Our Lions Clymacterick now is past And crown'd with Bayes he rampeth free at last Here are no Serean Fleeces Peru Gold Auroras Gems nor Wares by Tyrians sold Towns swell not here with Babylonian Walls Nor Nero's sky-resembling gold-seel'd Halls Nor Memphis Spires nor Quinzayes arched Frames Captiving Seas and giving Lands their names Faith milke-white Faith of old belov'd so well Yet in this corner of the world doth dwell With her pure Sisters Truth Simplicity Here banish'd Honour beares them company A Mars-adoring Brood is here their wealth Sound minds and bodies of as sound a health Walls here are Men who fence their Cities more Than Neptune when he doth in Mountaines roare Doth guard this Isle or all those Forts and Tow'rs Amphions Harpe rais'd about Thebes bow'rs Heavens Arch is oft their roofe the pleasant shed Of Oake and Plaine oft serves them for a Bed To suffer want soft pleasure to despise Run over panting Mountaines crown'd with Ice Râ—vers o'recome the wastest Lakes appall Being to themselves Oars Steerers Ship and all Is their renown a brave all-doring Race Couragious prudent doth this Climate grace Yet the firme Base on which their glory stands In peace true hearts in wars is valiant hands Which here great King they offer up to thee Thy worth respecting as thy pedegree Though it be much to come of Princely stem More is it to deserve a Diadem Vouchsafe blest People ravisht here with me To thinke my thoughts and see what I do see A Prince all gracious affable divine Meeke wise just valiant whose radiant shine Of Vertues like the Stars about the Pole Guilding the Night enlightneth every Soule Your Scepter swaies a Prince borne in this Age To guard the Innocents from Tyrants rage To make Peace prosper Justice to reflow'r In desert hamlet as in Lordly Bow'r A Prince that though of none he stands in awe Yet first subjects himselfe to his own Law Who joyes in good and still as right directs His greatnesse measures by his good effects His Peoples pedestall who rising high To grace this Throne makes Scotlands name to fly On Halcyons wings her glory which restores Beyond the Ocean to Columbus shores Gods sacred Picture in this man adore Honour his Valour Zeale his Piety more High value what you hold him deep engrave In your hearts Heart from whom all good ye have For as Moons splendor from her Brother springs The Peoples welfare streameth from their Kings Since your loves Object doth immortall prove O love this Prince with an eternall love Pray that those Crowns his Ancestors did weare His temples long more orient may beare That good he reach by sweetnesse of his sway That even his shadow may the bad affray That Heaven on him what he desires bestow That still the glory of his greatnesse grow That your begun felicities may last That no Orion do with stormes them blast That Victory his brave exploits attend East West or South where he his Force shall bend Till his great Deeds all former Deeds surmount And quaile the Nimrod of the Hellespont That when his well-spent care all care becalmes He may in Peace sleep in a shade of Palmes And rearing up faire Trophees that heavens may Extend his life to worlds extreamest day The Song of the Muses at Parnassus AT length we see those Eyes Which cheere both Earth and Skies Now ancient Caledon Thy Beauties heighten richest Robes put on And let young joyes to all thy parts arise Here could thy Prince still stay Each Month should turne to May We need nor Star nor Sun Save him to lengthen Daies and Joyes begun Sorrow and Night to far Climes haste away Now Majesty and Love Combin'd are from above Prince never Scepter sway'd Lov'd Subjects more of Subjects more obey'd Which may endure whilst Heavens great Orbes do move Joyes did you alwaies last Lifes sparke you soon would waste Griefe follows sweet Delight As Day is shadowed by sable Night Yet shall Remembrance keep you still when past The Speeches at the Horoscopall Pageant by the Planets Endymion ROus'd from the Latmian Cave where many yeares That Empresse of the lowest of the Spheares Who cheers the Night did keep me hid apart From mortall Wights to ease her love-sick heart As young as when she did me first enclose As fresh in beauty as the morning Rose Endymion that whilome kept my Flocks Upon Ionias flowry Hills and Rocks And sweet Layes warbling to my Cynthias beames Out-sang the Cignets of Meanders streames To whom for Guerdon she Heavens secret bars Made open taught the Paths and Pow'rs of Stars By this deare Ladies strict commandement To celebrate this day I here am sent But whether is this heaven which stars do crown Or are heavens flaming splendors here come down To beautifie this nether World with me Such state and glory did e're Shepheard see My wits my sense mistrust and stay amaz'd No eye on fairer Objects ever gaz'd Sure this is Heaven for every wandring star Forsaking those great Orbes where whirlâ—d they are All dismall sad aspects abandoning Are here met to salute some gracious King Nor is it strange if they Heavens height neglect It of undoubted worth is the effect Then this it is thy presence royall Youth Hath brought them here within an Azymuth To tell by me their Herauld comming things And what each Fate to her sterne Distaâ—â—e sings Heavens Volume to unclaspe vast Pages spread Mysterious golden Cyphers cleare to read Heare then the Augur of thy future daies And what the starry Senate of thee saies For what is firme decreed in heaven above In vaine on earth strive Mortalls to improve Saturne TO faire hopes to give reines now is it time And soare as high as just desires may climbe O Halcyonian cleare and happy Day From sorry Wights let sorrow flie away And vexe Antartick Climes great Brittaines woes Vanish for joy now in her Zenith glows The old Lucadian Syth-bearing Sire Though cold for thee feeles flames of sweet desire And many lustres at a perfect height Shall keep thy Scepters Majesty as bright And strong in power and glory every way As when thy peerelesse Parent did it sway Ne're turning wrinkled in times endlesse length But one in her first beauty youthfull strength Like thy rare mind which stedfast as the Pole Still fixed stands however Spheares do role More to inhaunce with favours this thy Raigne His age of gold he shall restore againe Love Justice Honour Innocence renew Mens sprights with white simplicity indue Make all to live in plenties ceaselesse store With equall shares none wishing to have more No more shall cold the Plough-mens hopes beguile Skies shall on Earth with lovely glances smile Which shall untill'd each flow'r and herb bring forth And Lands to Gardens turne
vanquisht Hell The first fruits of the Grave whose life did give Light to our Darknes in whose death we live O strengthen thou my faith correct my will That mine may thine obey protect me still So that the latter death may not devour My soule seal'd with thy Seale so in the houre When thou whose body sanctified thy Tombe Unjustly judg'd a glorious Judge shalt come To judge the World with Justice by that signe I may be known and entertained for thine A Translation Of S. John Scot his verses begining Quod vite sectabor iter WHat course of life should wretched Mortals take In Books hard Questions large contention make Care dwels in Houses Labour in the Field Tumultuous Seas affrighting dangers yield In Forraine Lands thou never canst be blest If rich thou art in feare if poore distrest In Wedlock frequent discontentments swell Unmarried persons as in Deserts dwell How many troubles are with Children borne Yet he that wants them counts himselfe Forlorne Young men are wanton and of wisdome voyd Gray haires are cold unfit to be employ'd Who would not one of those two offers try Not to be borne or being borne to dye MISCELLANIES ALL good hath left this Age all tracks of shâ—me Mercy is banished and pitty dead Justice from whence it came to heaven is fled Religion maim'd it thought an idle Name Faith to distrust and Malice hath given place Envy with poyson'd Teeth hath friendship torne Renowned Knowledge is a despis'd scorne Now evill 't is all evill not to embrace There is no life save under servile Bands To make Desert a Vassall to their crimes Ambition with Avarice joyne hands O ever-shamefull O most shamelesse Times Save that Suns light we see of good here tell This Earth we court so much were very Hell DOth then the world go thus doth all thus move Is this the Justice which on Earth we find Is this that firme Decree which all doth bind Are these your Influences Powers above Those Soules which vices moody Mists most blind Blind Fortune blindly most their friend doth prove And they who thee poore Idoll Vertue love Ply like a feather toss'd by storme and wind Ah! if a Providence doth sway this All. Why should best Minds groane under most distresse Or why should Pride Humility make thrall And injuries the Innocent oppresse Heavens â—inder stop this Fate or grant a Time When Good may have as well as Bad their Prime A Reply WHo do in Good delight That soveraigne Justice ever doth reward And though sometime it smite Yet it doth them regard For even amidst their Griefe They find a strong reliefe And Death it selfe can work them no despight Againe in evill who joy And do in it grow old In midst of Mirth are charg'd with sins annoy Which is in Conscience scrol'd And when their Life 's fraile thred is cut by Time They punishment find equall to each Crime LOok how in May the Rose At Sulphures azure fumes In a short space her crimson blush doth lose And all amaz'd a pallid white assumes So time our best consumes Makes Youth and Beauty passe And what was pride turnes horrour in our Glasse To a Swallow building neare the Statue of Medea FOnd Progne chattering wretch That is Medea there Wilt thou thy Younglings hatch Will she keep thine her own who could not spare Learne from her frantick face To seek some fitter place What other may'st thou hope for what desire Save Stygian spels wounds poyson iron fire Venus armed TO practice new alarmes In Joves great Court above The wanton Queen of Love Of sleeping Mars put on the horrid Armes Where gazing in a Glasse To see what thing she was To mock and scoffe the blew-eyed Maid did move Who said sweet Queen thus should you have been â—ight When Vulcan took you napping with your Knight The Boares Head AMidst a pleasant Green Which Sun did seldome see Where play'd Anchises with the Cyprian Queen The head of a wild Boare hung on a Tree And driven by Zephyres breath Did fall and wound the lovely Youth beneath On whom yet scarce appeares So much of bloud as Venus eyes shed teares But ever as she wept her Antheme was Change cruell change alas My Adoâ— whilst thou liv'd was by thee slaine Now dead this Lover must thou kill againe To an Owle AScalaphus tell me So may Nights Curtaine long Time cover Thee So Ivy ever may From irkesome light keep thy Chamber and Bed And in Moons Liv'ry cled So may'st thou scorne the Quiresters of Day When playning thou dost stay Neare to the sacred window of my deare Dost ever thou her heare To wake and steale swift houres from drowsie sleep And when she wakes doth ere a stollen sigh creep Into thy list'ning eare If that deafe God doth yet her carelesse keep In louder notes my Griefe with thine expresse Till by thy shriekes she think on my distresse Daphnis NOw Daphnis armes did grow In slender branches and her braided Haire Which like gold waâ—â—s did flow In leavy Twigs were stretched in the Aire The grace of either foot Transform'd was to a root A tender Barke enwraps her Body faire He who did cause her ill Sore-wailing stood and from his blubbered eyâ—e Did show'rs of teares upon the rine distill Which water'd thus did bud and turne more green O deep despaireâ— O Heart-appalling Griefe When that doth woe encrease should bring reliefe The Beare of Love IN woods and desart Bounds A Beast abroad doth Roame So loving Sweetnesse and the honey Combe It doth despise the armes of Bees and wounds I by like pleasure led To prove what Heavens did place Of sweet on youâ— faire face Whilst there with I am fed Rest carelesse Beare of Love of hellish smart And how those Eyes afflict and wound my Heart Five Sonnets for Galatea STrephone in vaine thou brings thy rimes and songs Deckt with grave Pindars old and withered flow'rs In vaine thou count'st the faire 〈◊〉 wrongs And her whom Jove deceiv'd in golden show'rs Thou hast slept never under Mirtles shed Or if that passion hath thy soule opprest It is but for some Grecian Mistris dead Of such old sighs thou dost discharge thy brest How can true Love with â—ables hold a place Thou who with â—ables dost set forth thy love Thy love a pretty â—able needs must prove Thou suest for grace in scorne more to disgrace I cannot thinke thou wert charm'd by my looks O no thou learn'dst thy love in Lovers books II. NO more with Candid words infect mine eares Tell me no more how that ye pine in anguish When â—ound ye sleep no more say that ye languish No more in sweet despite say you spend teares Who hath such hollow eyes as not to see How those that are haire-brain'd boast of Apollo And bold give out the Muâ—es do them follow Though in loves Library yet no Lover's he If we poore soules least favour but them shew That straight in wanton Lines abroad is blazed
Their names doth soare on our fames overthrow Mark'd is our lightnesse whilst their wits are praised In silent thoughts who can no secret cover He may say we but not well be a Lover III. YE who with curious numbers sweetest art Frame Dedall Nets our beauty to surprize Telling strange Castles builded in the Skies And tales of Câ—pidsâ—ow â—ow and Cupids Dart Well howsoever ye act your fained smart Molesting quiet eares with tragick cries When you accuse our chastities best part Nam'd cruelty ye seem not halfe too wise Yea ye your selves it deem most worthy praise Beauties best guard that Dragon which doth keep Hesperian fruit the spur in you does raise That Delion wit that other waies may sleep To cruell Nymphs your Lines do fame afford Oft many pitifull not one poore word IV. IF it be love to wake out all the night And watchfull eyes drive out in dewie moanes And when the Sun brings to the world his light To waste the Day in teares and bitter groanes If it be love to dim weake reasons beame With clouds of strange desire and make the mind In hellish agonies a heav'n to dreame Still seeking Comforts where but griefes we find If it be love to staine with wanton thought A spotlesse chastity and make it try More furious flames than his whose cunning wrought That brazen Bull where he intomb'd did fry Then sure is Love the causer of such woes Be ye our Lovers or our mortall foes V. ANd would you then shake off Loves golden chain With which it is best freedome to be bound And Cruell do ye seek to heale the Wound Of Love which hath such sweet and pleasant paine All that is subject unto natures raigne In Skies above or on this lower round When it is long and far sought and hath found Doth in Dâ—cadeâ—s fall and slack remaine Behold the Moon how gay her face doth grow Till she kisse all the Sun then doth decay See how the Seas tumultuously do flow Till they embrace lov'd bankes then â—ost away So is 't with love unlesse you love me still O do not thinke I le yeeld unto your will CAres charming sleep son of the â—able night Brother to death in silent darknesse borne Destroy my languish e're the day be light With darke forgetting of my cares returne And let the day be long enough to mourne The ship-wrack of my ill adventured Youth Let watry eyes suffice to waile their scorne Without the troubles of the nights untruth Cease dreames fond image of my fond desirâ—â— To modell forth the passions of to morrow Let never rising Sun approve your teares To add more griefe to aggravate my sorrow Still let me sleep embracing clouds in vaine And never wake to feele the daies disdaine An Epitaph of one named Margaret IN shells and gold Pearles are not kept alone A Margaret here lies beneath a stone A Margaret that did excell in worth All those rich Gems the Indies both send forth Who had she liv'd when good was lov'd of men Had made the Graces foure the Muses ten And forc'd those happy times her daies that claim'd From her to be the age of Pearle still nam'd She was the richest Jewell of her kind Grac'd with more lustre than she left behind All Goodnesse vertue Bounty and could cheare The saddest minds now Nature knowing here How things but shown then hidden are lov'd best This Margaret ' shrin'd in this marble Chest. Another Epitaph on a Lady THis Beauty faire which death in dust did turne And clos'd so soon within a Coffin sad Did passe like Lightning like the thunder burne So little like so much true vertue had Heavens but to shew their might here made it shine And when admir'd then in the worlds disdaine O teares O griefe did call it back againe Lest earth should vaunt she kept what was divine On a Drunkard NOr Aramanthes nor Roses do 〈◊〉 Unto this Hearse but 〈◊〉 and Wine For that same thirst though dead yâ—â— doth him piâ—e Which made him so carrouse while he drew breath Aretinus Epitaph HEre Aretine lies most bitter gall Who whilst he lived spoke evill of all Only of God the Arranâ— Scot Naught said â—ut that he knew him not Comparison of his thoughts to Pearls WIth open shells in seas on heavenly dew A shining Oyster lusciously doth feed And then the birth of that aethereall seed Shews when conceiv'd if Skies looke dark or blew So do my thoughts Coelestiall twins of you At whose aspect they first begin and breed When they came forth to light demonstrate true If ye then smil'd or lowr'd in mourning weed Pearles then are orient fram'd and faire in forme If heavens in their conceptions do look cleare But if they thunder or do threat a storme They sadly darke and cloudy do appeare Right so my thoughts and so my notes do change Sweet if ye smile and hoarse if ye look strange All changeth THe angry Winds not aye Do cuff the roaring Deep And though heavens often weep Yet do they smile for joy when comes dismay Frosts do not ever kill the pleasant flow'rs And Love hath sweets when gone are all the soures This said a shepheard closing in his armes His deare who blusht to feele Loves new alarmes Sileâ—â—s to King Midas THe greatest gift that from their lofty thrones The all-governing pow'rs to man can give Is that he never breath or breathing once A suckling end his daies and leave to live For then he neither knows the woe nor joy Of life nor feares the Stygian Lakes annoy To his amorous thought SWeet wanton thought who art of beauty borne And who on beauty feedst and sweet desire Like Taper flee still circling and still turne About that flame that all so much admire That heavenly faire which doth out-blush the morne Those Ivory hands those threads of golden wire Thou still surroundest yet dar'st not aspire Sure thou dost well that place not to come neare Nor see the Majesty of that faire Court For if thou saw'st what wonders there resort The poore intelligence that moves that spheare Like soules ascending to those Joyes above Back never wouldst thou turne nor thence remove What can we hope for more what more injoy Since fairest things thus soonest have their end And as on bodies shadows do attend Soon all our blisse is followed with annoy Yet she 's not dead she lives where she did love Her memory on earth her soule above Verses on the late William Earle of Pembrook I. THe doubtfull feares of Change so fright my Mind Though raised to the highest joy in Love As in this slippery state more griefe I find Than they who never such a blisse did prove But fed with lingring hopes of â—uture Gaine Dreame not what 't is to doubt a Losers Paine II. Desire a safer Harbour is than Feare And not to rise lesse danger than to fall The want of Jewels we far better beare Than so possest at once to lose them all Unsatisfied
art not Great Nor glorious By this Monument turne wise One it enshrineth sprung of ancient stemm And if that Bloud Nobility can make From which some Kings have not disdain'd to take Their proud Descent a rare and matchlesse Gemm A Beauty here it holds by full assurance Than which no blooming Rose was more refin'd Nor Mornings Blush more radiant ever shinâ—d Ah! too too like to Morne and Rose at last It holds her who in Wits ascendant far Did Yeares and Sex transcend To whom the Heaven More Vertue than to all this Age had given For Vertue Meteor turn'd when she a star Faire Mirth sweet Conversation Modesty And what those Kings of Numbers did conceive By Muses Nine and Graces moe than Three Lye clos'd within the Compasse of this Grave Thus Death all Earthly glories doth confound Loe how much Worth a little Dust doth bound FAr from these Bankes exiled be all Joyes Contentments Pleasures Musick cares reliefe Tears Sighs Plaints Horrours Frightments sad Annoies Invest these Mountaines fill all Hearts with Griefe Here Nightingals and Turtles vent your moanes Amphrisian Shepheard here come feed thy Flocke And read thy Hyacinth amidst our Groanes Plaine Eccho thy Narcissus from our Rocks Lost have our Meads their Beauty Hills their Gemms Our Brooks their Christall Groves their pleasant shade The fairest Flow'r of all our Anademms Death cropped hath the Lesbia chaste is dead Thus sigh'd the Tyne then shrunke beneath his Urne And Meads Brooks Rivers Hills about did mourne THe Flower of Virgins in her Prime of yeares By ruthlesse Destinies is ta'ne away And rap'd from Earth poore Earth before this Day Which ne're was rightly nam'd a Vale of Teares Beauty to Heaven is fled sweet Modesty No more appeares She whose harmonious sounds Did ravish Sense and charme Minds deepest wounds Embaulm'd with many a Teare now low doth lye Faire Hopes now vanish'd are She should have grac'd A Princes Marriage-Bed but loe in Heaven Blest Paramours to her were to be given She liv'd an Angell now is with them plac'd Vertue is but a Name abstractly trimm'd Interpreting what she was in effect A shaddow from her Frame which did reflect A Pourtrait by her Excellencies limm'd Thou whom free-will or chance hath hither brought And read'st Here lies a Branch of Maitlands stemm And Sâ—ytons Off-spring know that either Name Designes all worth yet reacht by humane Thought Tombes else-where use Life to their Guests to give These Ashes can fraile Monuments make live Another on the same subject LIke to the Gardens Eye the Flower of Flow'rs With purple Pompe that dazle doth the Sight Or as among the lesser Gems of Night The Usher of the Planet of the Houres Sweet Maid thou shinedst on this World of ours Of all Perfectiâ—ns having trac'd the hight Thine outward frame was faire faire inward Powers A Saphire Lanthorne and an incense light Hence the enamour'd Heaven as too too good On Earths all-thorny soyle long to abide Transplanted to their Fields so rare a Bud Where from thy Sun no cloud thee now can hide Earth moan'd her losse and wish'd she had the grace Not to have known or known thee longer space HArd Laws of mortall Life To which made Thrales we come without consent Like Tapers lighted to be early spent Our Griefes are alwaies rife When joyes but halting march and swiftly fly Like shadows in the Eye The shadow doth not yeeld unto the Sun But Joyes and Life do waste even when begun On the Death of a Nobleman in Scotland buried at Aithen AIthen thy Pearly Coronet let fall Clad in sad Robes upon thy Temples set The weeping Cypresse or the sable Jet Mourne this thy Nurslings losse a losse which all Apollos Quire bemoanes which many yeares Cannot repaire nor Influence of Spheares Ah! when shalt thou find Shepheard like to him Who made thy Bankes more famous by his worth Then all those Gems thy Rocks and Streams send forth His splendor others Glow-worm light did dim Sprung of an ancient and a vertuous Race He Vertue more than many did embrace He fram'd to mildnesse thy halfe-barbarous swaines The Good-mans Refuge of the bad the fright Unparaleld in friendship worlds Delight For Hospitality along thy Plaines Far-fam'd a Patron and a Patterne faire Of Piety the Muses chiefe repaire Most debonaire in Courtesie supreame Lov'd of the meane and honour'd by the Great Ne're dasht by Fortune nor cast down by Fate To present and to after Times a Theame Aithen thy Teares poure on this silent Grave And drop them in thy Alabaster cave And Niâ—bes Imagery become And when thou hast distilled here a Tombe Eâ—chace in it thy Pearls and let it beare Aithens best Gem and honour shrin'd lies here FAme Register of Time Write in thy Scrowle that I Of Wisdome Lover and sweet Poesie Was cropped in my Prime And ripe in worth though green in yeares did dye IUstice Truth Peace and Hospitality Friendship and Love being resolv'd to dye In these lewd Times have chosen here to have With just true pious their Grave Them cherish'd he so much so much did grace That they on Earth would choose none other Place WHen Death to deck his Trophees stop thy breath Rare Ornament and Glory of these Parts All with moist Eyes might say and ruthfull hearts That things immortall vassal'd were to Death What Good in Parts on many shar'd we see From Nature gracious Heaven or Fortune flow To make a Master-Piece of worth below Heaven Nature Fortune gave in grosse to Thee In Honour Bounty Rich in Valour Wit In Courtesie Borne of an ancient Race With Bayes in war with Olives crown'd in Peace Match'd great with Off-spring for great Actions fit No Rust of Times nor Change thy Vertue wan With Times to change when Truth Faith Love decay'd In this new Age like Fate thou fixed stay'd Of the first World an all-substantiall Man As earst this Kingdome given was to thy Syre The Prince his Daughter trusted to thy Care And well the credit of a Gem so rare Thy loyalty and merit did require Yeares cannot wrong thy Worth that now appeares By others set as Diamonds among Pearles A Queens deare Foster Father to three Earles Enough on Earth to triumph are o're yeares Life a Sea-voyage is Death is the Haven And fraught with honour there thou hast arriv'd Which Thousands seeking have on Rocks been driven That Good adornes thy Grave which with thee liv'd For a fraile Life which here thou didst enjoy Thou now a lasting hast â—reed of Annoy WIthin the Closure of thiâ— Narrow Grave Lye all those Graces a Good-wife could have But on this Marble they shall not be read For then the Living envy would the Dead THe Daughter of a King of Princely Parts In Beauty eminent in Vertues chiefe Loadstar of Love and Loadstone of all hearts Her Friends and Husbands only Joy now Griefe Is here pent up within a Marble Frame Whose Paralell no Times no Climates claime VErses fraile Records are to keep a Name Or raise from Dust Men to a Life of Fame The sport and spoyle of Ignorance but far More fraile the Frames of Touch and Marble are Which envy Avarice Time e're long confound Or mis-devotion equalls with the Ground Vertue alone doth last frees man from Death And though despis'd and scorned here beneath Stands grav'n in Angels Diamantine Roles And blazed in the Courts above the Poles Thou wast faire Vertues Temple they did dwell And live ador'd in thee nought did excell But what thou either didst possesse or love The Oraces Darling and the maids of Jove Courted by Fame for Bounties which the Heaven Gave thee in great which if in Parcels given Too many such we happy sure might call How happy then wast thou who enjoyedst them all A whiter Soule ne're body did invest And now sequestred cannot be but blest Inroâ—â—'d in Glory ' midst those Hierarchies Of that immortall People of the Skies Bright Saints and Angels there from cares made free Nought doth becloud thy soveraign Good from Thee Thou smil'st at Earths Confusions and Jars And how for Centaures Children we wage wars Like honey Flies whose rage whole swarmes consumes Till Dâ—st thrown on them makes them vaile their plumes Thy friends to thee a Monument would raise And â—imne thy Vertues but dull griefe thy Praise Breakes in the Entrance and our Taske proves vaine What duty writes that woe blotâ— out againe Yet Love a Pyramid of Sighs thee reares And doth embaulme thee with Fare-wells and Teares Rose THough Marble Porphyry and mourning Touch May praise these spoiles yet can they not too much For Beauty last and this Stone doth close Once Earths Delight Heavens care a purest Rose And Reader shouldst thou but let fall a Teare Upon it other flow'rs shall here appeare Sad Violets and Hyacinths which grow With markes of griefe a publike losse to show II. Relenting Eye which dâ—ignest to this Stone To lend a look behold here he laid one The Living and the Dead interr'd for Dead The Turtle in its Mate is and she fled From Earth her choos'd this Place of Griefe To bound Thoughts a small and sad Reliefe His is this Monument for hers no Art Could frame a Pyramide rais'd of his Heart III. Instead of Epitaphs and airy praise This Monument a Lady chaste did raise To her Lords living fame and after Death Her Body doth unto this Place bequeath To rest with his till Gods shrill Trumpet sound Though time her Life no time her loâ—â— could bound To Sir W. A. THough I have twice been at the Doores of Death And twice found shut those Gates which ever mourn This but a Lightning is Truce ta'ne to Breath For late borne sorrows augure fleet return Amidst thy sacred Cares and Courtly Toyles Alexis when thou shalt heare wandring Fame Tell Death hath triumph'd o're my mortall Spoyles And that on Earth I am but a sad Name If thou e're held me deare by all our Love By all that Blisse those Joyes Heaven here us gave I conjure thee and by the Maids of Jove To grave this short remembrance on my Grave Here Damon lies whose Songs did sometime grace The murmuring Esk may Roses shade the place FINIS