And by kind nature intermixed be Love doth fulfil the law love conquers sin And makes a man an earthly Cherubin Faith patience hope all vertues rightly â—kand Without pure love like barren fig trees stand With perfect love are sweetest graces seen Like maids of honor waiting on the Queen Love is the wedding-garment and no guest Without this robe shall tast the royal feast Invest me Lord with love make thou me able And fit to feast with â—ngels at thy Table Upon the Right Worshipful Sir Henry Lingen Knight of Stoke in Herefordshire Nulli pietate secundus MY trumpet is too dul and weak to sound His meritorious praise as in rich ground Most pleasant springs sweet flowers and herbs we find So vertues are consistent in his mind He 's constant in the faith and he doth hate Old truth with errors to sophisticate Such valour he exprest that men should raise A stately Pyramidet ' advance his praise His hands were active and his heart was free In loyal actions from Apostasy He strives not to climb high a gentle tyde Thus have I seen within his channel slâ—de His actions are so cleer to each mans sight As the pure Topaz or the Chrysolite All hearts to him as to their Loadstone move For he 's the Center of his Countrey 's love By all his vertuous ways it doth appear His soul in heaven is his body here The Sluggard Otia corrumpunt animum WHen God did Adam with all pleasures blesse He was to labour and the garden dresse God made man active those fair orbs above Do wheele about and without ceasing move The running stream is sweet and can impart A wholsome draught unto a thirsty heart But standâ—ng pools more dark and foul appear Nor can they be from bad infections cleer So labour whetâ— the soul and cleers the mind By active fire our mettal is refin'd An idle life a sad condition breeds Who sits when he should travel never speeds Look how the painful Bee unto her hive Brings the pure hony and doth daily thrive And the laborious Ant with careful pain Doth treasure up in summer time her grain So she prevents the famine and doth live All winter in delight and never grieve The Sluggard foulds his armes and then doth say I fear there is a Lion in the way Thus in the end both poverty and shame Consumes his body and obscures his name God is a husbandman he doth require All men to work no peny else no hire To his much Honoured friend Mr. John Williams the most pious and learned Minister and Vicar of Devynnock and Luel IN printed leaves for you I need not look I have learnt you by heart without the book Had I forgotten you I had bin rude And guilty of most base ingratitude If I had power equal to my mind You should an honest friend and servant find But envious fortuné hath so clipt my wing That I can nothing but affection bring I may more large in lands by fortune prove But no condiiton can enlarge my love The heavens blest you with a plenteous hand That you your friends can help your foes command The Blackamores WE many men from Mauritania see To England come as black as Ravens be Into your selves look with a curious eye And you shall find you are more black then they Then wonder not at them so black in skin But at your selves so foul so black by sin Peace and Warre PEace is like salt which seasons all our meat Till envious warâ—e doth poison all we eat War like the horsleech calls for humane blood And ruines all thâ—ngs like the unruly flood Or raging fire I do prefer by far An unjust peace before the justest war Welcome sweet peace which makes all things compleat And gives us grapes from our own vines to eat That land is blest and hath a golden day Where Drums and trumpets cease and Organs play Peace breedeth plenty warre consumes a nation Peace bringeth joy warre causeth Lamentation Pray to the God of peace that we may have The love and peace of God unto the grave HOPE Qui nihil sperat desperet nihil I 'm black t is true but yet no sad despair Shall me perswade that I shall nere be fair Transform hard stones the God of power can And make them children unto Abraham To turn my heart of stone God knows the way Into a heart of flesh without delay My sore disease is not so great or foul That there 's no balsome which can heal my soul Come true Samaritan come sacred Dove And in my soul as in thy Temple move To the most incomparable wise and vertuous Lady the Lady Goditha Prise Lady to the Honourable Colonel Sir Herbert Prise Knight AS I do live I wonder how you can Forget your sex and be so much a man In wit and judgment nay you are divine Transcending far our nature masculine As you are fair so you disdain the rude And sluttish nature of the multitude They say Promitheus stole from heaven fire And brought it down weak mortals to inspire If it be now on earth I do protest That heavenly fire lies in your sacred breast Who writes of you or gives you greatest praise To your high worth shall but a molehill raise Vpon the same most excellent Lady the Lady Goditha Prise HAve you observ'd a garden fair and sweet Where whelsome herbs and pleasant flowers do meet So doth her mind no imperfection know Where graces do like grapes in clusters grow If you with serious eyes desire to see The model of most perfect charity Or if in earnest you desire to find Religion seated in a humble mind Or would you know where holy patience dwells When grace and truth all discontent expels Then her behold who lives as if with John She had Christ's sacred bosome lean'd upon In tears and prayers she doth sin bemone And each day neerer steps to heavens throne The mortified Christian I From the worlds deceitful snares am free They were but cobwebs which entangled me All worldly mirth is madnesse get away You bad companions which mispend the day Leave me alone I ne're am lesse alone Than when in private by my self I mone I love no dainties which procure delight Nor curious sauce to whet the appetite Nature is spon contented give me meat That I may live let me not live to eat I wear no silk fine linnen rich attire To make me proud or burn with wanton fire Rough sackcloth or some homely weed I love Which my poor heart to humble thoughts may move I pray in Temples meadows woods each place Invites my soul to call for saving grace All sins by constant prayer conquer'd be So conquer them else they will conquer thee The new illiterate Lay-Teachers 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 WHy trouble you religions sacred stream And tear Christs coat which had no rent or seam And you do patch it too with ragged clouts Of false opinions and phantastick doubts The skilful
Drunkards and their humors guide Who runs and ne'r returns this dirty way Travels too hard to cast his soul away Avoid the Ale-house who frequents the door Where harlots live will learn to love a whore Lord bless me that with Christ I may be able Before a drunken Inne to choose a stable The Fountain O Fons lucido splendidior vitro HEre I do bathe my body wash my face To cleanse my sins I use the spring of grace This fountain from a stony rock doth flow Which teacheth me my Saviour Christ to know He is the Rock from whence a vertuous spring Proceeds to cleanse the beggar and the King Here in a Chrystal cleerness doth appear Which teacheth me to keep my Conscience clear This little fountain from all mud is free When greater streams are dark and troubled be Secure content doth crown a mean estate When Honors are obscur'd by envious fate Here I do drink and fear no poisonous charm Rich wine in golden cups contain more harm The running Fountain makes no sluggish stay But keeps its course and travels night and day Nor will I spend my life as in a dream But labour to be active as the stream Here without grudge the traveller shall stay And quench his thirst although he nothing pay Which teacheth me to bind the bruised reed And give my cruse of oil to those that need This pleasant Spring unto the sea doth haste And spends both day and night yet doth not waste My tears shall never cease my God to move Until they run into his sea of love The Fountain doth alone and secret dwell Like some chaste Nun in a religious cell A private life obscure doth best agree With my desires from noise and tumults free The Prodigal Son Facilis descensus averni Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras Hic labor hoc opus est ONce did I spread abroad my glorious train And like a Cedar little shrubs disdain Amongst small fish I thought my self a Whale None might me ballance in an equal scale Reason was not my guide each wanton sense Did wander through the whole circumference Sometimes the center of my pleasure lay Fixt in the bed of lust the glorious Day Did usher in my fancies and the Night Was but my secret Pander to delight I robb'd the painful Silkworm of her store And polisht English fleece with Indian ore Which by reflexion from the Suns bright rays Dâ—ll'd the beholders eyes and made fools praise My handsom feature although every part Was little bound to Natures work but Art No cloud of sorrow did eclipse my joy Nor mud of envy did my spring annoy Each day produc'd strange dishes of content To give my palate a new complement With women wine and cards I spent the day Which like the wind chas'd clouds of cares away But when my stock was spent my thoughts did fall I lost the Court and found the Beggars hall The stubborn husks which nasty hogs do eat Was then my onely dish and constant meat The scales of sin fell from my waâ—ry eyes And real truths I did discern from lyes In haste I ran into my Fathers arms And now with him I live secure from harms I 'le drown my sins in tears and never more Spend oil in vain that I may pay my score HEAVEN Non est mortale quod opto THe world 's an empty chest where nothing lies Which may content the longing heart or eyes Figs from these thistles we shall never gain Nor grapes of pleasure from these thorns of pain My soul disdains the Earth and sores above Feather'd with wings of an immortal love The Prisoner which in some dark dungeon lies No comfort feels nor light of sun espies What joy would he conceive if he were free And could enjoy his wished liberty So my imprison'd soul expects the day When Nature shall dissolve this house of clay For then I shall ascend with swift desire And sudden motion to the Angels quire Where I shall see that glorious Sacred face Which joyes all creatures lightneth every place No Sun or Moon shines there no day or night The Lamb himself is the eternal light There is the Mercy-Seat the holy hill Where neither thieves nor tyrants rob or kill No shackles hurt the feet nor cares the mind The poor man there is free from storms and wind All discontent all imperfection dyes The lame receive their feet the blind their eyes All tears are wip't away None doth command Each Saint doth hold a Scepter in his hand Lord let me see thy Court I seek no more But the least place to stand behind the door Vpon the most Hospitable and Courteous Gentleman the Worshipâ—ul Thomas Lewis Esq of Lâ—ngoâ—se AS at a fountain every thirsty soul May freely drink and fill his empty bowl So doth his kindness and his bounty flow Like some high tide which doth no measure know As the pure air is from base mixture free Without all vapours or malignity So his untainted heart disdains to be A friend to Schism or Disloyalty As on a Rock a house doth firmly stand And bravely scorn both wind and rains command So his most Noble resolution stood Firm for the Church the King and Countreys good Black Patches Vanitas vanitatum LAdies turn Conjurers and can impart The hidden mystery of the Black-Art Black artificial patches do betray They more affect the works of night than day The Creature strives the Creator to disgrace By patching that which is a perfect face A little stain upon the purest dye Is both offensive to the heart and eye Defile not then with spots that face of snow Where the wise God his workmanship doth show The light of nature and the light of grace Is the complexion for a Ladies face Powdred Hair Malè olet SOme proud phantastick Coxcomb takes more pain And greater care to dress his hair than brains And he doth study that his hair may have A better dye than God and Nature gave Furnish thy head with knowledge I presume That with a wise man is the best perfume A Wife Imperet illa nihil quiâ—quid tamen impetret uxor utere nec serva conjuge nec Domino ART thou resolv'd for Marriage then relie On God to chuse not on the wanton eye Men may intend or purpose It is not The man but God which ties the marriage knot Fix not thy mind on beauty that fair shade Will quickly pass that fair flower will fade Vertue and beauty to one place confin'd Is the best glue which can affection bind A modest maid with beauty stor'd and grace Hath wealth enough and portion in her face To take a Wife for wealth and not for love Will but a sickness not a Marriage prove Chuse one well born all waters do we know More sweet from fountains than from channels flow Graff on a Noble Stock and you shall find Such pleasant fruit as will delight your mind Doat not on her which doth the
too good to lie Under a bushel in obscurity He was not Linsey woolsey or content To be compos'd of King and Parliament He was most loyal and could not dispence With such base freedom to his conscience As to neglect his King he hath a heart From whence transparent beams of Vertue dart After sad years of cruel storms and wind He shall a Haven and a Heaven find The Gardener She supposing him to be the Gardener said unto him Job 20. MARY prevents the day she rose to weep And see the bed where Jesus lay a sleep She found out whom she sought but doth not know Her Masters face he is the Gardener now This Gardener Edens Garden did compose For which the chiefest Plants and Flowers he chose He took great care to have sweet Rivers run T' enrich the ground where he his work begun He is the Gardener still and knoweth how To make the Lilies and the Roses grow He knows the time to set when to remove His living plants to make them better prove He hath his pruning knife when we grow wild To tame our nature and make us more mild He curbs his dearest children when 't is need He cuts his choycest Vine and makes it bleed He weeds the poisonous herbs which clog the ground He knows the rotten hearts he knows the sound The blessed Virgin was the pleasant bower This Gardener lodg'd in his appointed hour Before his birth his Garden was the womb In death he in a Garden chose his Tomb. Copernicus his opinion confirm'd COpernicus his fancy may hold good The earth did only move the heavens stood So earth and houses wheeling round about And changing Climats sound new Masters out The Changes Tempora mutantur nos mutamur in illis THe painful Bee which to her hive doth bring Sweet honey in her tail retains a sting Our sweetest joyes are interlin'd with cares No field of corn but hath some choaking tares The stream which doth with silent motion slâ—de Is oftentimes disturb'd with wind and tide Who sits to day in Honours lap and sings God soon can change his tune and clip his winâ— Sometimes the Sea doth ebb and sometimes floâ— Now with anon against the tide we row No haven's so secure but somâ— ill blast May toss the ship and break the stately Mast Who now in Court doth dance and liâ—t his head To morrow droops and sickly keeps his bed The King may beg and beggars may command High Cedars fall when little shrubs do stand The sweetest com oâ—t I do feel or find Though fortune change is not to change my mind The Hour-glass Inter spemque metumque timores inter ir as Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum OUR time consumes like smoke and posts away Nor can we treasure up a month or day The sand within the transitory glass Doth haste and so our silent minutes pass Consider how the lingring hour-glass sends Sand after sand until the stock it spends Year after year we do consume away Until our debt to Nature we do pay Old age is full of grief the life of man If we consider is but like a span Stretcht from a swollen hand the more extent It is by strength the more the pains augment Desire not to live long but to live well How long we live not years but actions tell Pride and Humility Humilis descendendo ascendit superbus ascendendo descendit WHat pride possesseth man that is but clay Which must dissolve and melt like yce away What frothy baâ—m of self-conceit and love Doth puff his heart and such high fancies move Who doth presame to climb the highest wall Will soonest slip and catch the heaviest fall Proud men have fallen from their stately chairs And falling once have tumbled down the staâ—â—s The shâ—ubs are most secure and free from wind When lofty trees a strong resistance find Behold the twig which gently bends and bows When stubborn Oaks are broken stands and grows Vertue is sooner found in Cotts and Cells Than in great Courts where pride and envy dwells A contrite heart O Lord a bended knee Like sweet perfume shall at thy Altar be Christs Resurrection-day or Easter AS when through misty clouds and troubled air The Sun breaks forth and makes the heavens saâ—â— So Christ the glorious Bridegroom came this day Out of his Chamber whore he secret lay The brighter Sun is up whose pleasant rayes Do bless the earth with good and happy dayes Display thy warmer beams and to my heart More fervent heat of zeal and love impart Death could not kill or conquer life nor might The thickest darkness comprehend the light Had he bin still interr'd then we had bin For ever slaves to Satan Death and Sin The Jews to keep him there O fond conceit Roul'd to his grave a stone of heavy weight His body pierc't the stone but was not able To pierce their hearts far more impenetrable He could remove vast Mountains with his Word And in the Sea to them a grave afford The Mountain of my sins from me remove And drown them Lord in thy deep Sea of Love This joyful morning at the break of day Our Saviour rose and left his bed of clay Awake betimes my soul from slumber free And leave thou sin before that sin leaves 〈◊〉 The Spring SEe how the wanton Spring In green is clad Heark how the birds do sing I 'le not be sad Doth not the blushing Rose Breath sweet perfume I will my spice disclose But not presume The dew falls on the grass And hastes away Which makes me mind my glass Which will not stay Now plants and herbs do grow In every place Lord let not me be slow In growth of Grace Behold the fruitful trees And fertil ground Observe the painful Bees Whose hives abound I will not barren be Nor waste my dayes Like slaggards that are free From vertuous wayes The Poets Soliloquy WHy do I droop like flowers opprest with rain What cloud of sorrow doth my colour stain I like a Sparrow on the house alone Do sit and like a Dove I mourn and groan Doth discontent or sad affliction bind And stop the freedom of my Nobler mind No no I know the cause I do retire To quench old flames and kindle better fire It is my comfort to escape the rude And sluttish trouble of the multitude Flowers rivers woods the pleasant air and wind With Sacred thoughts do feed my serious mind My active soul doth not consume with rust I have been rub'd and now are free from dust Let moderation rule my pensive way Students may leave their books and sometimes play I am the Way the Truth and the Life Joh. 14. 6. Via in exemplo veritas in promisso vita in praeâ—â—io CHrist is the Way which leads to heavens joy He is the Truth which errours can destroy He is the Life which raiseth up the dead He is the Way Truth Life unlimited The way is narrow strive to enter in
their pure and rich attire God seeds the Raven which noâ— reap nor sow By these Gods gracious providence I â—now When lo the lofty hills I lift mine eyes I speak of heaven in soliloquies The stream whose constant motion never stays Argues the swift Procession of my days i travel to my grave till life is done As rivers do unto the Ocean run When I behold the Lark't advance her wing And to our God a thankful Anthem sing I check my nature and can do no lesse Than tax my self of dull unthankfulnesse Such holy raptures with my soul agree When in the world I from the world am free The further I from wordly men remove I draw the neerer to the God of Love The Virgin Mary From henceforth all generations shall call me blessed MOst blessed is thou sonne of man the breast Which thou didst suck the chast womb is blest Which bare thee when thou didst our nature wed No sinful lust defil'd thy marriage bed None was so gracious as the Virgin Mary Gods holy Temple and his Sanctuary As fathers hold her blessing did consist More in beleeving than in bearing Christ Old age Delirium naturae VVHen we are young and do enjoy the spring Of pleasant youth we laugh we dance we sing And think old age which is so cold so soure Will never come to blast our youthful flower As some dark cloud invades the sky so fair And by degrees obscures the clearest air Old age thus creepeth on and turnes our light Or Summer's day into a winter night Our Limmes are turn'd to ice our hair to snow Our windows dark and dull our feet are slow Our Roses languish and our Lilleys fade Our wine is sour'd our pleasures bitter made Joves tree the sturdy oake the Cedar tall In length of time are forc't to stoop and fall Remember God whilst thou art young and he When thou art old will sure remember thee Upon the golden Grove in the County of Carmarthin the habitation of the Right Honorable the Lord Vauhan Earle of Carbery now Lord President of the Marches of Wales IF I might where I pleas'd compose my nest The golden Grove should be my constant rest This curious fabrick might make us believe That Angels there or men like Angels live I must commend the out-side but within Not to admire it were almost a sin Of fertile ground the large circumference With admiration may confound the sense Which ground if things were rightly understood From Paradise came tumbling in the Flood And there the water left it therefore we Find here of pleasures such varietie Wise Nature here did strive and witty Art To please the curious eye and longing heart The neighbouring river Towyd oth oreflow Like pleasant Nilus the rich Meades below Hence come great store and various kind of fish So good as may enrich the empty dish Fowles thither flock as if they thought it fit They should present themselves unto the spit Here gardens are compos'd so sweet so fair With fragrant flowers as do perfume the air Hard by a grove doth stand which doth defeat Cold winter storms and the dry Summers heat Their merry birds their pleasant Carols sing Like sweet Musicians to the wanton spring There are parks orchards warrens fish ponds spring Each soot of ground some curious object brings There lives a noble Earl free just and wise In whom the Elixer of perfection lyes His heart is good as balsome pure as gold Wise as a Serpent as a Lion bold The righteous is confident as a Lion Pro. 28. THe guilty conscience feares when there 's no fear And thinks that every bush containes a beare When none persues the wicked flyes and still Distractions alter his confused will The righteous man sits in his peaceful chair Secure from fears and free from black dispair His resolution like a Uirgin pure He keeps unspotted and can well endure The burden of affliction for the crosse Makes trial whether he be gold or drosse The righteous shelter'd under heavens wing Like the three children in the fire may sing For God will bâ—oach the rocks and Manna rain He 'le bring the quailes together to sustain His chosen people Lions hunger may And want but he that â—reads a vertuous way Shall never feare a famine God is able In the wild desarts to prepare a table The Devil will destroy the flesh infect The world deceive unlesse that God protect Vpon the Right Honourable Lady the Lady Mary Beauchamp of Edington in the County of Wilts Romana vivit clarior Iliâ A Dwaâ—fe may on a giant look and I May speak of her whose merits are so high Count all the various flowers of May declare Of stars what number by creation are This may be sooner done than you can tell What sacred vertues in this Temple dwell Would you find bounty or do you desire To see Religion in his best attire Would you know meeknesse charity and love Which are the touchstones that our faith doth prove These vertues are included in her breast Like precious Jewels in a golden chest Her kinred neighbors tenants and the poor Yea strangers do frequent and blesse her door Twixt her and Saints I do no difference know But this they are above and she below And if all had so pure a mind as she Heaven on earth and earth would heaven be Upon the honourable Gentlewoman Mrs. Jane Lane who was by Gods providence a most happy Instrument to convey our Soveraign Lord King Charles out of the hands of Rebels from England to Holland HAve you observ'd the sun sometimes to shroud His glorious head and lustre in a cloud Thus God was pleas'd to hide our gracious King Under a woman's most auspicious wing 'T is strange a woman could so silent be In things of moment and great secresy She was the weaker vessel God thought fit To make her weak in strength but strong in wit To save her Countrey Holofernes head Brave Judith cut off on his wanton bed But many traytorous hands did vex this Nation Which Jane cut off by Charls his preservation Let noble Ladies sing and Virgins dance Before this Judith our deliverance Praise God for this High-work and be content To honor her as Gods great instrument No fading garland of sweet flowers or bayes Shall crown her head but everlasting praise GRACE 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 SInne like a gyant doth encounter me Nor am I from his proud controulment free To kill this great Goliah gracious King 〈◊〉 thy grace instead of Davids sling Jordan may help and Siloam's poole may cure Carnal diseases but thy fountaine pure Of saving grace when I do faint or pine Doth heal my soul without fine oyl or wine Grace is the shield of my defence the light Which guides my feet through this dark vale of night When friends and riches leave me that alone Conducts me from the grave to heavens throne I fear no Devils through Gods grace nor men No firie oven nor
heed No poisonous herb may grow no stinking weed I love my actions just my words compleat My body clean my garment fair and neat But yet my chiefest care and study here Is to preserve my soul and conscience cleere I am ambitious of an honest fame And to preserve the candour of my name My wife and children and my friend I love These are strong tyes which may affection move These are delights but my delight is most To watch my soul lest that rich pearle be lost Lord let me feed on bread of cares and fears And let me wash my bed with constant tears Let me be subject to all storms and wind And for my bed let me a dunge on find Do what thou wilt sweet Lord I 'le take it well Onely preserve my self from death and hell What if I heard the musick of the sphears And sweetest Anthems to content the ears What if I had strong wines delicious meat And all the pleasures I could tast or eat All this is gall unless the soul is free Which is more dear than twenty worlds to me The Marigold Heliotropium sive Solisequium est anima mea quae sequitur solem Justitiae non naturae THE loving Marigold his leaves displays Glad to receive the Sun 's all warming rays But when the absent Sun denies relief The flower contracted seems to dy for grief While the bright Sun of glory shines on me My soul is in a joyful extasy But when he hides his gracious face of love I cannot truely be nor live nor move MUSICK Non clamans sed amans psallit in aure Dâ—â— AMphion's musick was so rare That with him no man might compare And Orpheus with his silver string Did stones and trees together bring But when I sigh or weep or pray I sweeter musick make than they All things were fram'd by God above And all things do in union move They say no musick to the ears Is like the musick of the sphears But yet to me it doth appear No musick 's like the conscience cleer SINNE 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 WHat cloud is this that makes it night And robs me of eternal light Lord in this darknesse I can see No path which leads my soul to thee O Sun of glory make it day And chase these clouds of sinne away PRAYER Vâ—corpus est mortuum sine anima sic anima sine oratione THe morning is the insancy of day Which claims chast thoughts cals the heart to pray When night puts on her black and dark attire Let prayer kindle thee with holy fire A faithful prayer pleaseth God and turns His wrath to mercy when his anger burns It is a welcome sacrifice to God For man a salve and for the devil a rod Without the wings of prayer none can fly To heavens throne where pleasures never dy Prayer's the Key which opens heaven's door From whence all blessings fall on rich and poor It is the key which looks the gates of hell Whence evils come where all discomforts dwell In prayer bend thy knees â—nd heart for he Doth make his heart more stiff that spares his knee Who God forgets and doth neglect to pay Is still in travel never in the way A FRIEND Rara avis in terris WHere shall I find a friend I may as soon Find out the man which dwelleth in the moon The ancient days are past when men did move Within the sphear of undeceiving love Friendship is in these days respectless growne Like some old matron in a thredbare gown There is a fained friendship which doth passe Sometimes for pearle and is but painted glasse Some undermine who seem like friends to stand These have the voice of Jacob Esau's hand Others will smooth you with a fair discourse And give you talk enough but keep the purse A perfect friend is not in love so cold That he will lose his friend to save his gold Thou art my friend sweet Lord who dost refresh My weary soul I trust no arm of flesh The Saints of God Sanctitas nobis non per meritum sed per gratiam impuâ—atur THe neerer we approach to God the more Wee find our imperfections and deâ—loâ—e Our frail estate our weaknessâ— best we â—ee In the fair glasse of Gods great Majesty The stars are glorious bodies and by night Do guild the world with their resplendent light But they are dull and never do appear When once the sun shines in our Hemisphere The Sons of God the children of the day Excell the rest in beauty but when they Behold Gods glory with a serious mind They nothing in themselves but darknesse find The righteous do condemn themselves and spy Beams in their own not in their brothers eye None keeps the paper of his life so white But he will sometimes blot as well as write If th' heavens are not cleane nor Angels pure In Gods account who is from sin secure Therefore Gods Saints are from presumption free Their faith is cloth'd with works of charity Grant me sweet Lord a righteous life then I The precious death of thy dear Saints shall dy Peter's denial Angelus cecidit licet in caelo Adam cecidit licet in Paradiso Petrus cecidit licet in Scholâ Christi ARt thou the Rock where Christ his Church would build Yet when thy master fights thou leav'st the field No wonder if weak buildings be cast downe With boistrous winds when rocks are overthrown Where was thy courage when the Lamb did stand Before the Wolf left to his furious hand Wouldst hou sorsake thy Saviour swear and ban In all thy life thou never knewst the man Lord leave me not vnto my self lest I Fall from the faith and thy great name deny I hear a waring-peece the Cock doth crow And Peter feels his sad condition now He doth repent his curses oaths and fears In the sad language of his flowing tears Let not my fountains cease nor tears be few Tears are the Angels joy and Heavens dew Gods Providence Deus est in Angelis per gloriam in Electis per gratiam in omnibus per providentiam THe Lilies do not spend the weary day In spinning thred to make their clothes more gay Yet Solomon had no such rich attire Whom all the world for glory did admire The Ravens have no barn to store their grain They do not sow nor reap with careful pain Yet God feeds them If he the birds do feed And clothe the grass he will sustain my need With greater love I never will despair When all is spent God will my stock repair Upon the Honorable Colonel Sr Herbert Prise Baronet Master of the Houshold to His Majesty Charles the Second Est major quà m cui passit fortuna nocere SOme wavering men like reeds with every wind Are shaken to and fro The various mind Dislikes no weather be it foul or fair He hath a cloak fit for the present air Such like the Cynick will their tubs remove From place to place
his youthful days As do foreshew this Morning star will prove A glorious body in the oâ—b of Love Thus purest Springs as they do forward go The wider still and still the deeper grow Upon the death of the Right worshipful Sir Walter Pye of the Mynde THus full grown fruitful trees we often find Blown down by sad and unexpected wind He was an Evening-star but so divine As did in glory Morning-stars outshine Vertue was strong in him if truly scan'd As when the Sun doth in his Zenith stand The King hath lost a Subject who should have An everlasting April on his grave Have you observ'd how the pure Frankincense Or Storax burning out delights the sense So he consum'd and dy'd He left a Name A glory to his friends to foâ—s a shame His death deserves of tears more ample store Than there be sands upon rich Nilus shore The Passion of Christ Vita mea fuit mors Christi Mors Christi vita meaest ADam who names to Creatures gave Did in fair Edens garden sin Christ in a garden man to save His bitter Passion did begin There did his sweat and drops abound Yeâ— drops of precious holy blood Which trickled down unto the ground And flowed like a crimson flood There Judas did his Lord betray With a foul and deceitful kiss Dissembleâ—s cast their souls away Regarding not eternal bliss From thence with lanthorns staves and swords They led him like a wicked thief No faithful friend now aid affords No Angel ministers relief To Annas then they brought the Lord The holy Lamb is strongly bound To murther him they all accord In whom no guile or sin was found He could these cords asunder break His mighty hands did heaven frame My sins did bind and make him weak And subject unto pain and shame Herod did scorn him and disdain To see so poor and vile a thing The Lamb no favour can obtain When that the crafty Fox is King To Pilate's Hall they brought him bound For Pilate judgment was to give The Judge in him no evil found But that he might in justice live They did blindfold the God of Light And struck the peaceful Prince of Love Though to the blind he gave their sight Yet nothing could these tyrants move They spit in his most glorious face Whose healing spittle cur'd the blind Although he gave to sinners grace Yet here he could no favour find They 'twixt two thieves him crucifie Who did him mock and basely scorn Between two thorns you might espy The Lilly of the vallies torn This was our Saviour's nuptial day The bitter Cross his marriage bed Where he his patient head down lay His loving Spouse the Church to wed With nails they pierce his hands and feet And with a cruel spear his side From whence the Sacraments most sweet Like to a lively stream did glide At last he bow'd his head divine All things were finisht and compleat His Spirit to God he did assigne And unto us his Merits great The Children of Bethlehem Vox Sanguinis A Voice was heard in Ramab or on high Fair Rachel wept because her babes must die In Betblem Rachel's buried therefore she Is stil'd the Mother of this Infantrie No voice comes sooner to the ears of God Or crieth louder than the voice of blood Herod the Fox these pretty Lambs did kill Who the first Martyrs were by act not will In act and will I would a Martyr prove And give this world to gain the world above Vpon the Worshipful and most hospitable Gentleman Andrew Barker Esq of Fearfwood in the County of Gloucester Integer vitae sâ—elerisque purus OBseâ—ve bright Heavens constellation how The stars do join and make a glorious show Thuâ— vertues meet in him whose noble thought Hath pâ—ous woâ—ks unto perfection brought Hâ— keeps a house compleat to strangers free Without vain-glorious prodigality N 〈…〉 Poâ—teâ— dares to shut his door Agâ—â—nst the sad petitions of the poor No 〈…〉 sie no Treason â—re possest Q 〈…〉 eâ—'d once into his seriâ—uâ— bâ—â—ast Fidelity and truth did ever guide And steer his ship through every wind and tide His Wife is like the pleasant Vine that she May stock the world with good posterity His lovely Children blest with grace and wit Like Olive branches at his table sit And strangers which behold them soon may gather They are the children of so good a Father May he ne're cease through the great power of God To bud and flourish like old Aarons rod. Vpon Saul seeking his fathers Asses SAul did much care and diligence express By seeking Asses in the Wilderness Three days he travell'd with a serious mind To find them out but could no Asses find Find out a hundred you in London may Of Presbyterian Asses in one day The Moon IT is beleev'd the Moon so fair so bright Doth from the Sun receive her candid light My soul no beauty no perfection knows But what the Sun of glory still bestows Upon the fair and vertuous Gentlewoman Mrs M. S. that can sing excellently Gratior est virtus veniens è corpore pulchro WHen first I did this Virgin spie The object pleas'd my serious eye But when I heard her sing I swear The musick took both heart and ear Those inward vertues please us best Which are with outward beauty drâ—st And 't is a comely thing to find In bodies fair a â—airer mind The Harp the Viol hither bring And Birds musitians of the Spring When she doth sing those must be mutâ— They are but Gymbals to the Luâ—e She with her Notes doth rise and fall More sweetly than the Nightingal God in her pious heart keeps place Some Angel in her voice and face The Hen and Chickens SEe how the careful Hen with daily pain Her young and tender Châ—ckens doth maintain From ravenous birds secure her young ones lie Under their motâ—â—ers feather'd canopy Thus his dear children God together brings And still protects them with his gracious wings The bird oâ— pâ—ey Gods Doves would soon dâ—vouâ— Diâ— hâ— nâ—t guaâ—d them with his watchful pow'r Upon the Honourable Colonel Sir Randolph Egerton Knight In pace optimus in bello maximus MY trumpet is to dull too sound his praise Who guilds this Nation with his vertuous rayes His merits do like Nilus overflow The banks of comprehension and I know No better way than silence to commend His vertues which no measure have nor end The muses shall meloudious Anthems sing Of his bold love and valour for the King Upon the fair and vertuous Gentlewoman Mrs. Elizabeth Gwyn of the Hay I Cannot speak her worth but shew my will Her meriâ—s are beyond my pen or skill Her face and mind is fair like to the day Unclouded or like heaven's milkie way When she inclines to marriage may she find A lover correspendent to her mind As she is rich and comely so may he Equal in portion and proportion be As she is kind from him let kindnesse flow And love
die to morrow Life is to him no joy nor yet a sorrow Hell Qui per malam vitam negligit â—oelâ—m per justiâ—â—am Dei cadit in Infernum GOOD Lord deliver me from hell where grief Is without end and pain without relief In this dark dungeon damned spirits lâ—e Where the foul woâ—m of conscience doth not die Nor fire go out where the most wretched soul Doth but in vain for pardon cry and houl Here they do gnash their teeth they spend sad teaâ—s Full of distractions horrid thoughts and fears From Gods sweet presence from eternal light From holy Angels and from Saints delight Fâ—om heavens glory now they banisht are What torment is this no man can d clare If after twenty thousand years of pain And thousands more the damn'd were sure to gaâ—n A pardon and come out this grant would be Some comfort to them in their misery But there is no such hope the Judgement 's past And cannot be revok'd the gate is fast And never can be opened who can tell What dreadful lamentations are in hell I know that heaven is above but how Or where hell stands Lord let me never know The prosperity of the wicked Vt paupert as bonorum est beata sic prosperit as impiâ—rum est maledicta SOmetimes the wicked flourish like the bay Which still keeps green when better trees decay Have you observ'd how little streams do swell And rise above their banks and then have fell And sunk into their Channels so we know Base men have risen high then fallen low That Kingdom is in an unhappy case Where Cedars fall and shrubs possess their place With joy and pleasure Upstarts climb the hill Again they tumble down against their will Those men do much mistake who only measure A Christians welfare by his worldly treasure An Angel hath no gold no beasts nor land And yet he is not poor his wealth doth stand In better things although the just mans store Is small he hath enough and needs no more God doth his grace instead of wealth impart And with contentment doth enrich his heart The bad mâ—ns wealth with discontent doth dwell His heaven is but interm'xt with hell Be not in love with gold a golden purse Is without grace no blessing but a curse The Martyr Martyrium est baptismus sanguinis SOme in gay feathers do the Peacocks play While 't is fair weather and a sunny day But when 't is clouded and the storms begin Like fearful snails they keep their horns within Pure Fountain-water doth most heat contain The winter time Good men in greatest pain And hardest times or dangers valiant prove And do express the greatest heat of love A Christian from his faith will never start If thousands should present and fire his heart He loves not life life is to him a pain He fears not death death is to him a gain He dies a Saint for truth who spends his breath The cause proclaims a Martyr not the death The blood of Martyrs is the fruâ—tful seed Which being sown doth still more Christians breed The DEVIL Monstrum horrâ—ndum informe ingens cui lumen ademptuâ— GOD bless me from the Devil â—oe to man If God rules not that great Leviathan Dâ—â—k soggy mists he câ—sts before our eyes To make us credit his phantastick lyes His greatest proffers are but painted toyes 〈◊〉 thâ—ough with grief and onely fac'd with joyes With pleasant potions and with sugred pilâ—â— The Devil tempts his patient when he kills He tempted David with Bathsheba fair Jâ—das with silver-pieces whom despair Brought to perdition with a beauteous face He brought two wanton Elders to disgrace With Naboths vineyard Achab he beguil'd So he with blood his guilty hands defil'd He cozen'd Achan with a wedge of gold Eve with an apple No man can unfold His various tricks he knoweth when to fish What bait you love what things you chiefly wish Three ways he useth most Wine women wealth By which he creeps into the heart by stealth Resist him at the first he 'll flie away Get but the morning and you have the day The Sinners Petition Non opus est misericordia ubi non est peccatum AFter some sick and tedious hours of night The Patient longs for the approaching light The thirsty Deer doth panting run and look Desiring to find out the water-bâ—ook So pants my soul and sighs and longs to see Thy saving health to make thy servant free How am I circled with thick clouds of sin And still a thred of vain delights I spin The Sun of glory these daâ—k clouds can chase And cleer me with the beauty of his face Wash Lord my scaâ—let sins that knowest how To make me wâ—â—teâ— than the â—lâ—eâ—e of snow Remember not my rash and ill spent youth When I could fancy lyes and hate the truth Those sins are wormwood now and bitter gall My pleasures then I now my sorrows call I creep unto thy gate and do implore Thy gracious love to cure my cankred sore Receive me in although I come so late Thou hast the keyes to open heavens gate A Hymn HEar me thou God of my delight Me inspire with thy fire Pure and bright Cleer my face with thy grace Turn I pray night to day With the beams of thy glorious light My waters calm and cure me with thy balm Have in store for my sore Some redress Rid my fears wipe the tears Which mine eyes do surprise And me with thy pleasures bless Great King break not a bruised reed Give me bread to be sed At my need Call to mind Loâ—d how kind Christ thy Son me hath won When his â—recious side must bleed Keep me fâ—om thrall and let me never fall Into woe lâ—st my soe May be glad Let thy wing comfort bâ—ing To my â—â—nd when I find My soul in her â—â—â—rning 〈◊〉 All laud unto the glorious King Whose great love we may prove By each thing Heart and voice shall rejoyce And my breath unto death Shall harmonious Anthems sing Lord when I die let my spirit flie To thy throne where alone Thou dost raign Perfect health and true wealth Quiet peace never cease In thy Kingdom there 's no pain Glory unto the Father be To the Son it be done Equally Praise and boast th' Holy Ghost With thy power every hour One true God in Persons three Now 't is even as heretofore it was And shall be certainly Evermore His great light hath no night Nor can he changed be But remains as he was before Drunkenness Elrietas brevis est insania USE golden Temperance that anchor may In greatest floods thy boat that wanders stay Who drinks too much and doth in tâ—verns dwell May want a drop to cool his tongue in hell Poâ—ts write of Men transform'd to bâ—asts if true I do believe they were some Drunken â—â—ue No Wolf no Ass more fierce more shameless can Or careless be than is a drunken man Lust murder folly falshood anger pride Possess foul
comers free If thou art rich sell not thy self for pleasure If thou art poor sell not thy self for treasure Make not thy self a Common it is found There 's better pasture in inclosed ground Predestination Occulta esse causa potest injusta esse non potest DIspute not why some Angels stood And others fell which were by nature good Dispute not wherefore God doth take and chuse Some to his grace and others doth refuse The potter doth of the same lump of clay Make vessels some more base and some more gay And shall we question Gods most secret will Why his own creatures he doth save or kill Who 's sav'd or damn'd none knows who look Into the Lords Predestination-book The signs or symptoms which Election prove Are lively faith and undefiled love I will serve God and shake off sinful slumber Who knows but I am of th' elected number The Poets Condition Est Deus in nobis agitanâ—e calescimus illo A Poet and rich that seems to be A paradox most strange to me A Poet and poor that Maxim's true If we observe the Canting ciue What lands had Randolph or great Ben That plow'd much paper with his pen Wise Chaucer as old Records say Had never but his length of clay And by some men I have been told That Cleaveland had more brains than gold Shew me a Poet and I 'll shew thee An Emblem of rich poverty An hundred Verses though divine Will never buy one pint of wine I have a purse as free within From gold as Heaven is from sin And silver thinks I do it wrong If I imprison it too long My purse no constant measure knows But like the Sea it ebbs and flows And as my purse doth rise or fall So I do rule my senses all When I have silver or pure gold I am most brave divine and bold And then I do not hold it fit That any should outvie m' in wit But when these birds have taken wing I cannot crack a jest nor sing All mirth and musick I detest And mad Orlando Mortuus est But stay I think no worldly gain So sweet as a Poetick vein No grief disturbs a Poets head No discontent frequents his bed When riches ebb my wits do flow The rich are dull and nothing know I have a heart I have a mind More quick in motion than the wind And through the twelve Signs I can run By thought more swiftly than the Sun I know the motion of the Stars Which are for peace which are for wars If I the Astrolabium take I know their height without mistake I know without all doubt or wonder The cause of lightning and of thunder What weather will be I descry By the complexion of the sky The vertues of each plant or tree Of flowers and herbs are known to me I good and evil Angels know And can their strength and order show But O my God I know thee best When I confess I know thee least Thus I when I am poor and bare By meditations banish care Then judge which is the greatest curse An empty head or empty curse Upon Peter Fishing DO'st fish in the deep sea 't is Christs command That thou shouldst rather fish upon dry land Thou art a Fisher not of fish but men Consider how to catch them where and when He that will fish for men the only hook Which he must use must be the holy book The Scripture is the net which drags great store From Seas of troubles to the blessed shore To the fond Lover Est forma fugax est foemina fallax BE resolute fond youth and free From courting her which loves not thee Strange passions rule a Lovers brain Now tears then smiles now joy then pain Now hope doth rule then black despair Now he exclaims then calls her fair He sometimes doth Gods aid implore But loves and calls on Caelia more No joy no wealth no worldly bliss May be compar'd with Caelia's kiss But we may seek and find as well Most perfect rest and ease from hell As to derive our Paradise From any womans wanton eyes We shall for honey look in vain From a foul nest of wasps to gain Caelia cheats with her false treasure Guilding pains and death with pleasure She is a wavering fickle toy None is more fond none is more coy If thou art strange then she is free If free thou art she 's strange to thee She will reject if thou dost chuse She will affect if thou refuse If thou art yee then she is fire Burn thou and she will quench desire When thou art kind then she will frown When thou disdain'st she is thine own She laughs and weeps she 's kind and sour She grants denies all in an hour Her bitter frowns her sweetest smiles Are all compos'd of snares and wiles She paints an outward face of love Where she will most a tyrant prove And sometimes she pretends to hate Where her sick soul is captivate What she desires to scorn she fains And seems to wish what she disdains Thus a poor Lover knows not well Whether he is in heaven or hell Then fix thy love on Christ thy Rock Not on a wavering Weather-cock The Presbyterian Covenanter THE Presbyterian as wise men may see Hath little knowledge less of honesty He is both Fool and Knave or such another As wicked Cain was who did kill his brother He 's lately come to England with a story Of a new Pamphlet call'd a Directory His Cloak is something short his looks demure His heart is rotten when his words are pure His mind is carried with a headlong tide Of self-will worldly love presumptuous pride He 's sick of late a vomit may do well Oaths Covenants Tâ—easons from his heart t' expel In this our Land this Presbyterian brat Like Pharoah's lean kine hath devour'd the fat In Scotland he was bred a place too wild To breed an honest or a civil child Let Presbyterians be to Scotland sent I wish them no more plague or punishment Than pleasant flowers will in Gods garden sprout When these unwholsom weeds are rooted out Upon the young most beautiful and most ingenuous Gentlewoman Mrs. Mary Carne Daughter to the gallant Gentleman Mr Thomas Carne Esq once of Bro-Castle IT is a strange and wondrous thing â—o see ripe Autumn in the Spring He scarcely livâ—s that ever saw Fâ—uit the same time both ripe and raw As strange a thing we may behold In her so young in her so old She is a â—ender Child in years I◠〈◊〉 a Matron she appears Observe her growth she is but small Observâ— her wit she is most tâ—ll Here Natuâ—e seems to rob Old age By making Childhood 〈…〉 ve and sage So cleer a Moâ—ning doth betray And speak the fairness of the day So sweet a Bud doth well disclose We may expect a fragrant Rose As shâ— within is free from dross So Nature gave her such a gloss Of gracious Beauty that we have Nothing except her
which weak defect may never know So let them both like twyns be fair and kind Be rich in grace be of a loving mind So let them both continue till they kisse In love each other to eternal blisâ—e Wordly Honor. Honos mundi est onus animis CLimb up the highest hill and you shall find That place most subject to great storms and wind So wordly Honours and preferments are But steps to raise you to more grief and care To the most Courteous and fair Gentlewoman the pattern of modesty and piety Mrs. Elinor Williams of the Gare. AS you are perfect without blot or stain So may perfection in your Bridegroome raign As you are young and tender so may he In years a little your superiour be For every marriage then is best in tune When that the wife is May the husband June Let not your heart to beggar's Hall incline A shrubble should not embrace so tall a pine A Buzzard must not couâ—t the gentle Dove For such a marriage will prodigious prove No foolish Wood-cock must expect to wedde Or take the rarer Phenix to his bed Before your Roses fade joyn hand in hand Old age will come and plough your finest land Remember Lots Wife Exempla plus valent quam praecepta A Woman turn'd to salt most true it is Ovid nere knew that Metamorphosis The woman chang'd not man Gods prime creature For women are most apt to change by nature She looked back with a most strong desire To see old Sodom which was then on fire The act of looking back had bin no crime Had she lookt back but at another time It was Gods precept made this act a sin She had been free had God not injur'd bin Salt seasoneth flesh she 's turn'd to salt that we By her example might well season'd be Go on my soul to God with all thy might Renounce thy former Sodom of delight Upon the death of the Right Worshipful Sir Anthony Mansel who was shot and kild at the battel of Newbery Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus Tam chari capitis Hora. DEath like a coward at a distance stood When she struck him his valour was so good She durst not venter neere Death to her shame His body kill'd but could not kill his name In this sad battel if same truth doth say We got the field and yet we lost the day His death eclipst the day and made it night And clouds of sorrow did obscure the light It were injustice to neglect his dust Whose death was noble as his life was just Now heaven crownes him where all labors cease Although he dy'd in war he dy'd in peace Charity Quid charitas sine fide Quid fides sine charitate THe glorious Sun bestows his light and heat To cherish us and make all things compleat The swelling clouds with water do abound To succour and refresh the thirsty ground The earth yields her increase the fruitful vine Out of her treasure yields the pleasant wine All creatures in their kind by nature give And with their precious store our wants releive These creatures by example us should move To help each other with a mutual love To feed the poor who sells his own estate Doth purchase heaven at an easie rate God loves a broken heart an humble knee An open hand from all vain glory free The Holy Sacrament or Supper of the Lord Vbi ratio deficit fides proficit UNder the forms of sacred bread and wine I do receive thee Lord and grace divine Thou art the door the vine the corner stone Thou art the way the truth the life alone Thy mercy to inlarge thou art our bread Wherewith we are to life eternal fed Thy blood is wine which sweetly doth refresh Our weary souls and cheere our weaker flesh Who eats this bread and drinks this cup shall be From fainting thirst and pining hunger free In this sweet bread doth no sour leaven lye Of fraud of malice or hypocrisie The bread's thy body and the wine thy blood This I beleeve this faith is safe and good Thou art in thy great Sacrament but how I simply do confesse I do not know It is enough for me that thou art there I will receive thee Lord with joy and fear Upon the Right Worshipful Sir Richard Floyd one of his Majesties Honourable Judges in South-Wales BLush all you scarlet gowns that heretofore Did wink at rich men and condemn the poor Great flyes break through when the lesser fly In slender cobwebs doth intangled ly But here is one of Jetbro's Judges he Fears God and is from base corruption free The person he respects not but the cause He fancies not opinion but the laws The scales of Justice no fine gold can turn He righteth those which laugh and those that mourn He 's careful of the poor for he doth know That men will soon tread down a hedge that 's low His language is attractive sweet and full And falls like rain into a fleece of wooll In faith he is a rock in loyal love For his good King he'did a Martyr prove He is a honest Jude my active will Would guild his name had I but perfect skill Conscience Conscientia millâ— Testes COnsider all thy actions and take heed On stollen bread though it is sweet to feed Sinne like a Bee unto thy hive may bring A little honey but expâ—ct the sting Thou maist conceal thy sinne by cunning Art But conscience sits a witnesse in thy heart Which will disturb thy peace thy rest undo For that is witnesse Judge and prison too The pleasant streame doth fair and smoothly glide When in the bottom no great rubbes abide No swelling grief no boystrous cares appear Where honest ways preserve the conscience clear Our cloths being new and fair we hold it fit To care what thing we touch and where we fit When they are foul or torne we leave that care And cast them up and down like broken ware T is so with conscience while 't is fair within We fear to stain it with some heynous sin If once the Virgin-Conscience plays the quean We seldom after care to keep it clean Then keep thy conscience like thy paper white And do not blot when thou maist fairly write The Shrew Ventus ab Aquilone BEhold her lip how thin it is her nose How sharp her voice how shrill which doth disclose A â—roward shrew who hath her by mishap Shall surely hear a constant thunder-clap Silence is her disease for like a mill Her clapper goes and never standeth still By night Hobgoblins houses haunt this sprite Doth vex and haunt the house both day and night The Rack the wheele the Spanish Inquisition Torments not like her rongue A sad condition Her husband lives in like a coward he Must leave the field and always vanquisht be He must commend what she doth well approve And disallow of what she doth not love We tame wild fouls bears lions but no Art To tame