should make them chant a song to see a Lady in whose refreshing bosome you might cool the burning flames Yet some doat on the superficiall pleasure Loves but for a day Neither how to answer that Religion can I any way determine sure if the world be blind they will have women to bee the Expletive Particle of that Homer They find forth a new way of Imbracements and by the Petulant Method of such wantonings divirgineth Love the feigned stories of Poëtick furie that single soules wandered on the happy bowers of Elizium add this Comment to brighten the Text that the very flowers gorgeously arrayed in fresh Apparellings of summer-triming April wheresoever those Sainted Ladies troad grew up and thence derive their generations who while they immured a little by meditation fell in imbraces with their tender feet as Heliotrops at the morning Apollo Non alia Coeli gaudia amare aut amari Nen alia terrae To love and to be lov'd is the Heaven and earth's Inbile For the Divine Artificer before this World's fabrick was made by the Architectonicall power of his word from the preexistent Chaos had but this solace to live in love and contemplation which is felicity enough and more Perfection then was on this side Heaven Those too fortunate starrs do not appear so welcome to the banquetting devotions of poor Marriners as they are at the entertainment of their owne selves they leap into one body while the one gives halfe of his Immortality to the other and like Hypocrates-twins cryes and laughs lives and dies at one breath Hence for a secret imbrace as Venus her votaries were carried to their Nuptialls like the Roman Ladies in a silken vaile Hercules was voted a Demigod in Love's Registers and had more Treasures of honours entailed upon his valour when he conquered the Monster Women then when hee shook his sharp-darted Lance at the cruellest Hydra What need the Soul seeke stately Divinity if it have but love The Ethnicks vanted Nature in such Hyperbolicall vaporings as if that onely Deity could make them happy What some of their sect whispered forth some spoke aloud 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 What are other things to us yet who wonders at a Panygercik Encomionized in the praise of the Moon with them who never beheld the Sun-beames but such felicity is dormant neither can those high-flown wings soar at the farr stretched eliment of perfection but with one hand pitched up to Heaven like the Boy in the Emblem has the other hand stretched down to Hell The Stoicks happy men whose holy eyes still looked through the windows of light never did adventure so high in towering expressions to make their souls Pinneons mount the top-sphere of felicity they indeed dared to call it a spirit as in some sence dim-twilight reason issuing from dark-Lanthorn Nature shewed them it was separable from the body and Pythagoras before had took his transmigration into a Frog But Love needs not such false Herauldry whose name long since was blazoned on Incarnate Deity and should she again as divine Plato thought of virtue assume a Corporall being the least glance of such a brave Paragon would dazle our Ruffling gallants into the dimest Night of wonder while I my self might Chant this dirge Vt vidi ut Perij The starr-fed Mathematicians would scorn Heaven's illustrious Physiognomy while the long Jacbos-staffe of their desires aimes at their skye-like face The Phylosophers would scorne their thred-bare Coat of Physiology to blazon the rare composure of her Metaphysicall features And the wearied Pilgrim whose weak head is decayed in the Elaborate travells of Religion would sing a Requiem to his journeys and fall in adoration of such a shrine The Poët he â—ells us Jupiter est quodcunque amas Whatsoever wee love is a Godhead to our selves And is it so Then the covetous man who courts his Decoy Gold till it looks Red in anger or when he falls to adore't blusheth at his Idolatry he kisseth Jove in a piece of money Yet for Jupiter was metamorphosed to a golden shower in the attempt of a silver Danae And is it so then the good old man who kist his Cow was Jove in one sence thus was Eurpa dismounted on Cretas florulent Plains by a wanton Bull And is it so Then the epicure devours Jove at his Sumptuous Bacchinalls changed to a Lilly-Swan Yet luxurious in those chaster plumes he sips up Jupiter wantoning with Ganymed in Nectar and Ambrosia The Heathens did deifie the worst of men that they might colour the black aspersions of sad crimes with that pure tincture of innocence because their alligation was made in immutation of those gods thus the fool in the Comedy seeing Jupiter acted in Adultery would needs commit a Rape because Jove did so but love is of a better temper and to falfifie those glories of it's goodnesse by our equality is a piece of folly for the Indians can paint the Divell white that he in those innocent Robes might seeme their God in a higher degree of Perfection indeed the Camelion-as can appear in any colour Thus wee may know divine love all created excellencies shines with borrowed beames for when the Heathens beautified their nature as a Goddesse they went a gathering Hyperbolies in the Poëts gardens to flourish forth that Entity as the Painter run with his bill of Items from one a Cheek from one a Lip from another an Eye to represent the most beautifull Venus she blazeth forth in her own lustres other beauties would but like great blots deface the Coppy or by a tedious Parenthesis check and eclipse so rare a Sunshine I confesse the grunting Epicurians by the vain froth of foamy imaginations would model for their Diana according to their own corruptions but those garlick-pallates sauced with Onionsmells are banished this Respublick as Poëts were who made adulterate their gods from Plato's Idaea for will we new-mold Love in a worse Effigies that were to taeâ— Rurall pleasures for Angelicall dainties Avant Avant such madnesse We will not Court the flint for a flowery arbour whenas we have Hebes to make our downy beds and Love's Ganymeds to attend our Royallties yet here my feeble wings only flutter a Toarage nor can they scan the high pole of it's deserts here like Geographers who in describeing the Terra incognita fill a Map with Antick creatures Monsters and prodigious sights So I must either write Misteries a Rose a Cheek a Christall a Tear a Ruby a Lip a Comet an Eye to describe Love or leave a space to be filled by a better Artist For the stout Aristotelans who thought Sol's Rayes to their Prying curiosities were but atendants and the Plaâ—onicks who raised their flanting wits to a higher bravery by calling his illustrations their shades could never touch the â—igh sphere of this glory like moyling Muck worms they gruffle in the dust and â—o return to their first Nothing which â—mmateriality after annihilation love onely can make immortall The
of Physitians Circumrotated by a gyre just like the Aetherian fire moving in the Similitude of an Orb So that whosoever loves he is carried by a sphaericall motion which like the Egyptian Serpentine year Sua per vestigia Revolvitur Doth to such Circ'lar motions tend As it begins where it doth end And as it 's motion so it 's self is without end for who knowes not the last fate of a man to be his dyeing testament while his soule is exhaled into his dearest friend's bosom as a farewell Legacie the Romans I am sure were no lesse confident then superstitious in this custom when as they would catch the last breath of their dying lovers by laying mouth to mouth So that I think Pythagoras did rightly Phylosophize when he fell in Love with a Metempsuchosis and sacrificed to the birth-day of that Lady Transmigration his great brain had in conception whose desultory Soul divesting it's Painted slip-cloathes the body flew into some noble entertainment which the old Pagans in their foolish tenets baptized an Elizium before we take our vltimum vale from this sorrowfull Theater there is none happy whome love and Phylosophy doth not inspire or ravish the Soul into an amazement of extasies and therefore without it I conclude with the poët Dici beatum ante obitum Nemo None without Love can ever be Happy till death end miserie The one hales the admiring man into the astonishment of Contemplations The other sets the lovely soul into the great wonder of imbraces the the one carries you into the plesant Tempe of Heaven-sprung flowers whose dew watering those Rosy leaves is Nectar spilled from the Gallaxey at Ganymed's fall where you may feed the nice desires of a stoln glance or satisfie the curious smell with balmy incense of perfumed sweets And pâ—ay you tell me How can you deny the transcourse of soules when bodies are at a distance Have you not seen the Amorist's eye allwayes looking that way his Lady sits enshrined like a stately Diety If they joyn hands then the soul dines it's Appetite in figurative speeches by twisting of fingers if they sit together then the heart leapes up in exultation and Running forth with a whole Troop of thoughts as rustick fellows salutations are with a good blow knocks at the weak fort till it surrender Or what other Annotation is the Ruby-blush colouring one 's Sanguine face with a purple dye but the passionate soule which in its crimson-robes presently leaps into the Velvit cheeks as the Plush-index of a wounded heart See but how desirously the soul lurks into the Labyrinth of an ear catching the silent Complement in an Eloquent language and then answereing it again in a silent eccho see but how the soule ingulphes her self in the large theater of a glance and you will say it dies in continuall speculation for some say Love is blinde but Democritus put forth his eyes the better to live in contemplations Thus man himself shrinks his whole composure into the little vail of an eye and sometimes confines it in the little Cloy ster of an ear as we see some Animals content with the small function of one sence Listen Methinks I hear Aristophanes say it is the whole Sacrament of Love to reduce men to that Principle from which they were extraduced Thus by naturall progresse the Occidentall Sun returnes to his spicy East when as the new Morning is but a Revolution of the old day thus Rivers by their filiall gratitude ingulphe the vast Treasures of their pleasant streams at Neptunes acceptance to whom they are derivative But thou O Thales in water and thou O Empedocles in fire leaping made too much hast not only Phylosophy but the Philosopher himself was resolved into the principles and the vital particles of souls ingurgitated in their own Elements Thus the errours of Philosophyzing spirits excuse the errours of raging Lovers and while the Mentes famelicae were nourished of what they consist One would swear Bacchus his soul is made of a liquefied matter One would swear the Red soule of Tyrant Caligula is made of blood who wisht the world but one neck in which he might glut the hungry Appetite of his ravenous blade One would swear the muck-worm soul of a Country-fellow is made of dirt and his body to be the strong clay-walls and one would swear the barbarous souls of Stoicks rising from a hard quarelet of stones to be carved into the lovely statues of men Or what if we should feign with the Platonicks who durst not touch the chastity of a Woman that by the meer notion of mingling souls ut ex communi seminario Men do result in a strict Epithalamy of Nuptiall 't is a pleasant invention indeed that without putting their bodies to any brookage they have generation by kissing of hands and twisting of eye beams yet this perswades us that souls at the first approach run into imbraces like friends who not forgetting their once-acquaintance can entertain souls at a dreaming separation and meet in salutations before their bodies be in sight so now the Platonick takes his Metempsuchosis into memory for it is his Love and Philosophy Cui amare ac Philosophari est Reminisci For to Remember what 's a kisse Not to approv 't is all his blisse Yet to whom to love and to Phylosophize is all one it is to erect the lapsed estates of Angellick creatures with a perpetuall speculation of Heaven and as the birds of the Sun are fed only with it's Rayes it feasts them with a continued desire of eternity This is that I know not what candor makes mortalls in the aemulation of gods scan the high sphaere of divinty This is the eye whose splendors discover more new-found Treasures then e're Sol was able to view without tiring his swift-flown Steeds this makes us as circumscribed in no Parenthesis of age like a Posthumus being as spirits who injoy the vast Kingdoms of th'ubiqueous air without limitation Love thus doth all things knoweth all things yet in it's description I must write Encomiums on the Deo Ignoto as the Pagans scuplted it on their altars Some say Cupid is no reall being but a Chymaera Yet Plato degenerates from such Principles allows him something though 't is onely the desire of Pulchritude in a fair Lody and I make account too the attempt of an ill-favoured feature is not Love but lust How doth that Ignis fatuus bemire the Lilly soul in the dirty bogs of Quag-mire folly How doth that melancholly distemper like Don Quixots fight with Wind-mills of fancy and summons a man up to death as Brutus his Malus-Genius did him to Plutos Praetorium If thus rash Phaeton-lust as an intelligence move in the brain 's golden Chariet It will soon destroy the Micre-cosmman Each Amorist who adores this Lust as a white Swan will find the silly Goose Painted as Aesops Crow in the rich Attirement Peacock feathers Like the Devil sanctified in the bright Radience of condensed
air Such a darling Dalilah will blind the eyes of Sampson Love and then expose it to scorn of the Worlds Philistims Such a wicked Athenian mounts the high pole of honour by firing the costly state of Love's Diana temple but that verified Axiome of Logicians proves loves glories Nihil dat quod non habet Amor nec habet nec dat malum Things must be ours before we give First breath and then you 'l sur'ly live The Poet durst not uncloath his body least the wind as the Eagle did Ganymed should Rap him into the air but hee I am sure who unloades himself of lust's mantle will then with Eliah fly into Heaven Methinks Plato's philosopher digested dark divinity without the commotion of a recoyling stomack for the glorious Candle of the transparent soul saith he was thrust into the blind-Lanthorn body as a punishment for her Virgin lust O had love bin in those dayes how had these glimmery shadings been dissipated to clear beams how had that Maiden in her gay blushes bin restored to primitive glory for love is not ashamed of her beauties as the proud Corinthian Lais was who broke the looking-glasse at sight of her aged front carved forth with pale wrinkcles Lust indeed may adorn it selfe in royall loves attirement yet no jot the lesse lust for that thus a Parrat in imitation of men may dispute a Syllogisme Persius in excuse to his lisping Satyrs Authoratizeth this Corvos Poëtas Poëtridasque Picas Cantare Credas Pegaseium melos A song is hard yet Daws may easy do it A Crow's an Orator a Goose a Poet. But they conclude like the Roman bird whom the Cobler's Grammer had elegantly taught when by an Extempore speech shee cryed forth Oleum operam perdidi For me to speak is all in vain You loose your labour I get pain Wee delight onely in the fruition of a fair beauty and scorne the Lotteries of Penelope's wooers who flew in a soarage of impossiblity A picture lymned in the brave excellence of gaudy Symetries may perswade the eyes of a gazing Spectatour but not a Lover And he who looks on a Lady onely to observe the fair tablature of her face may as well deate on a Picture Love is the onely Orator whose smiling Rhetorick allures me to the felicious salute of imbraces Here I bring the old Philosopher Socrates to witnesse who would have the very carv'd Effigies painted in the insinuating colours of Love's bravest tinctures how often with his sweet Appellatives in the Schools as if in Venus Gymnasiums hath he styled his Company Formosos auditores such waxen minds on whose melting Amorosities the Signet of his eloquence might make impression So then the flattering Complement of a merry countenance may conquer the fortyfied Ilium of a Regall Lady Hellena may be surprized by a pleasant Robbery without the aemulation of so many Rivalls though once the high ambition of injoying that unheard of form racked Troy in a decimall Torment of fire A mild Heroe may lead Venus a Trophey to his wanton bed as a stern Mâ—rs injoy her in Vulcan's lodgings The dirty Soul of a Clod-pate swaine who knows nothing besides the beautifying of a goodly farm can dive so farr into Royall Loves Cabinet as to snatch the best Pearl he there finds inclosed else our wanton Deity had never wisht for the injoyments of an Iron-side Vulcan but he was mettle to the back and therefore would not stand bent to his work Pray tell me if you do not love how can you think to be happy for love like the Stoicks hath a Domestick Pleropheria an unavoidable happinesse although the felicious Heathens could never reach Summum bonum beyond an imaginary conception Thus by a Piece of Politick Stoicisme can allay the raging infortunes of disquieted passions as the sturdy Rocks quells Neptunes Proud waves and makes them retire worsted Some have canonized men whose radiant works sparkles in the Orient lustre of day beams Aristotle was set up as a Pope in Phylosophy while his sectaries thought other writings but Err a-Patris neither gospel nor law but at Lov 's rich strains rarely interlined with golden notions all nations may fraught their Vessels where the Heaven is made Heaven by it's presence The old Philosopher said other Creatures were writ in Prose but Mans soul was a perfect Poem thus indeed wee read Tully's fidler said his body never danced but when his soul plaid the Lessons and if the soul be in Poësy when love sings consort then 's the best melody give me Poetry musick in words and give me musick Poëâ—ry in sound and what Queen of Shaeba would not hear the wisdom of such a Solomon The Pagans Jupiter was maximus because he was optimus and whatsoever like love would be great must be first good And methinks those all-Religious Romans who tye their tutelary Angels in the large Pantheon with chains of gold did but shadow forth this love though in the form of a golden dart it is entertained in the consecrated Vestry of a Man's heart should we but see this glorious Planet I can then tell how it would move in the Zodiack of our imbraces till by a Chymicall touch of virtue the strict impâ—ings were turned to golden threads Great Aristotle thought his strong drawn Arrow hit the mark when hee gave the definition of love to be one soul in two bodies methinks I might act the Philosopher and say it is two souls in one body but those weak Raptures come short of an Hyperboly This I would say Plato in it's features might see his ravishing virtue exist Incarnate This I would say All the accurate accomplishments in the inferiour World as Cebes his famous piece of morality hung in the curious Temple of Saturn to confesse the greater wisdome of that God are but shadows of this Deity For a little Attome may expresse this great World clouds of perfumes lodg their vast glories in the circumference of a grain a small dath speaks Sol cliâ—enant in the large Meridian and a round O notes the broad fact Moon in a full Orb. In Maps points spells Parnassus and a line great Helicon Methinks it was but a fond vapouring of the Old Pâ—ër and onely fit for the proud vaunts of an undaunted Stoick to say Primos in orbe deos fecit timor 'T was fear at first which did create Gods in their sanctified state With his good leave I would alter the phrase and say Primos in orbe Deos fecit amor 'T was the immortall name of Love Made Gods on earth in Heaven above Love is a great Magician Hence as Inchanters Lovers by shady umbrages and dark representations of a Lady burn themselvs by a sensless Rapture carried by a delusive waf age into the air of fancy Hence beautious eyes like the bewitching Basilisks stupefie the lovers mind till by an unvanquished inflammation of desires with Regulus in his barrell he dyes by looking at those sunny Rayes what else is I pray
the soft allurments with which Endymion made Luna discend from her high sphear to his homely Cell What else are these oft-repeated groans but magicall tearms charming philters and Amatory numbers Nay and I know not whether to admire the strong motions in that which is beloved or in the Lover those delineaments of flatteries those smiling faces moving with inchanting perswasions where Love a circle there exerciseth his execrations Why Rosamond in her flourishing Epitâ—th was called Rosa-mundi may be thus noted that Loves powerful Magickneverscrued her beauties to a higher perfection then the sading flower Had Demosthenes bin inspired with this love as he was with eloquence the Old Heathens might have hummed him with the deserved applause of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 See where he goes in learned fame It is Demosthenes by name Which Persius Englished in Latine by a mild Satyr Et Pulchrum est digito monstrari dicier hic est 'T is a grand honour 〈◊〉 be known And that 's the man with fingers shown The Poets Libri were their Liberi which after ages put to Nurses use but when they are the Off-spring of great love all things comes to suck hony from their breasts for my part I would have my last fate survive in it's memoriall which speaks more then a glorious Urn though I were entombed like Pompey with a Hic citus est magnus Here Pompey dead Lyes rarely buried For I do remember Alexander when hee came to the Tomb of Achilles and saw that stout Greek shut like a mirror in a Cabinet in sobasea Mausolaeum presently weptin words Haeccine sunt Trophaea Can the World afford no better honors had he bin monumentized with i'ts Oriental gems he would have bin the Son of Jupiter whose mother is Immortality My scrip is always open O for that this great Maecenas would throw in some crums the Channell of my life is almost dried O for this Spring of flowing goodnesse for it's charity is not grown cold nor doth those lustres here dwindle like the Morning starrs into an Eve as the Caldeans writ their good men in Hyrogliphicks and intelligible words that they might mould away in the rust of oblivion For it was not the immortal Poësy of laureat Homer nor the dippings of Lethe's Rivolets but Love's ever verdant florishings which deified the great Greek as Poets Kings did always survive in the rare-living flowers of their Gardens When some Poetasters were callow and their scarce Pen-feathered Pinneons knew a soarage of an airy travell Homer had got wings and mounted the top-Eliment of immortallity while his flaggy Muse scans the brave ditties of Hellens Amorofities beyond humane dispute When the transcorporating Pithagoreans did but lisp forth their broken language Plato could speak and had bin surely entombed in the monument of love for an everlastang Pyramid but that foolishly he expected a Revolution the Platonick year Happy Aristotle well stamped his Eutelechia for love is harmony and harmony is the soul and both together make the sublimest persection this made the laughing Philosopher waft his intellect to so high a grade as to think upon another life This made Socrates bid his friends bury his body but not think they had buried Socrates This made the Stoicks scorn their Welch-Pedegree whose tenets after death are to eat the green Cheese Moon Here comes a Pollitick Plato and he will have Verses for his Sepulcher-stone but let it be that Heroicon of Ovia Here lyes the Master of loves Here comes Democritus with ages winding-sheet gray hair intreating the Athenian to be Embezelled in hony but let it be with Loves Rosaries and such embalment will make his name fragrant to all posterity Here comes a Roman to have his Urn arayed with sweet-smell'd flowers fading vanities Venus her Myrtle shall adorn my Herse as an ever-verdant Cypresse For I can only shadow forth Love by Paradise a bank of Lillies a Garden of Roses Caesars Motto was a book and a spear and at every on-set Love with the great Roman can subscribe on the book with the point of it's sword Veni Vidi Vici I came I saw I overcame Love is the extension of the soul and lives defused through the glorious Microcosm man now here now there now ev'ry where Whosoever loves by that reason because he loves he is a number and no more one In Love's Arithmatick he 's more then a Cypher Inlov's Musick he 's more then a Semi-quaver In Loves Geography he 's more then a smal point and in Loves laws he 's no Ignoramus Souls entertain souls and Moralists who Sometimes graze with herds of Philosophers say nunquam solus quam cum minus solus as if their bonus-genius guardian Angells were their Comrades I think they might indeed lash forth into superstition who were down-right Pagans and though amongst the Petulant Romans young men were only to act Venus her interludes because a Crown of Roses did not become the gray-head yet how often have I seen the Stoick-looks of a dogish old man quell the naturall affections of a young Amorist like a little Boy pursuing the painted gaieytes of a Butterflyes wings that upon the assaulte he might prove his only rivall How often would the old wanton desire to survive like Mezentius in his Funerall Tomb that he might espouse his second birth to the World in amorous celebrations How often would the Antiplatonick desire to live Retro to imbrace a beautious Lady though it be beyond the possibility of love to prescribe an Apotheosis to any humanity I have Read that noble Lycurgus made an Edict for every one to love and no irrationality For Venus her Myrtle as Bromius his Ivy can court the Male with winning imbraces still weaving her self to fro in his boughes And those feasting Symposists I mean the devouring Epicures could live in the world without adjuvances of an Omnipotent power but not without the Omnipotent power of Love's Providence whose Godhead they did invoke with strict Religion of their Christianity though it was but a brutish Zeale as by the fond tenets of superstition the Egyptians worshiped Cats and Dogs Onions and Leeks Serpents and Crocodiles But Gellia impatient at her absent lover would have been Prostrate to an Image so sung the Cambo-Brittanian Epigrammatist which was a higher Crimen then ever Egypt committed with his Nilean Monsters yet it is a peice of Piety to pitty her madnesse for some will love foolishness rather then not love the Poët argues the fact as Innocence because Semel Insanivimus Omnes None can hinself commend for all Are lame enough since Adam's fall It is impossible to dim the Radiant light of love's splendors or give those glimmering Rayes a totall Privation for we admire at the inviolated beames of translucent Phaebus so may we the hot sparkes of Cupidinian fire whose Vestall flames have no extinguisher It 's refulgent illustrations which lies darting in a large Lature of an Orient Pearl will never be abbreviated in the
Hierarchies Of Angels who in rapsodies of love Chants Hallelujahs to the Gods above Though we with the proud and ambitious flie Kisse the world's flames and so as Martyrs die The body as the Prophet's mantle fell In rageing Rivers which with billows swell By all transcendancy I dare avouch Thou scan'd Heaven in Elia's fiery Couch On the death of the most Heroick Lord SHEFFIELD AN ELEGY ANd why a tear in tune from Poëts Eyes Words holocausted up in Elegies Like to his Corps Embalm'd in perfum'd spice Were to strew flowers upon Paradise A Comment pleaseth to darke things annext But mysteries Reveales this unknown text Inteares we th' Red-sea passe but wit's Twilight Comes short of Canaan in it's Pisgah-sight Nor can the Cloud which us poor Isralites guides Part per-pale Rainbow clear'd be on both-sides Eye-beamed streames dissects yet we do try Ope-Superficies as Anatomy For those who Angels would imbrace thus they 're Gull'd with faire seemings of Condensed aire Nor is his nature lesse Man-sprung-divine Saints would do homage to 's immortall shrine Persians adore his eye Indy his Cherubs face Emparadiz'd with white Seraphick grace O for Old Plato that his eyes might see The Non-created wish made Entitie Hee 'd swell in Cups of Nectar for to seek Virtue Incarnate on that Heavenly cheek O for Pythagoras Ravished Soul to swear He 's metempsochos'd to a starry sphere Since he deserves the skie lamenting Rome We 'le grant th' Horizon but his proper Tombe Though we can't say therelyes great Sheffield's soul Enshrin'd i th' Pyramid of that high Pole Cause constellations from their orders be Roul'd by the Havens large Cosmographie Nimrod Orion swallows Comets are Oft shrunk Osyris lost in the Dog-star 'T will please to say his deified fate In Mars in Jove or Phoebus did translate Could Caesar dye said some or tell me can Any survive the voice fits God not man If they do live as Saints as men they talke Who e're did yet in Sempiternum walk The platonists are surs to die who were Unsure to have their great Platonick-year Great Aristotle spake as if he went A sorage 'bove the highest Element Methinks that Etelechia stamptâ—unknown His body was a little too-high flown The Roman-urns outlasts the men unborn As Pagans-evening were th' Antipod's morn Death 's but a sleep and bodies when they dye Divests the slip Cloathes of mortallity For t'h Soul's Eoan lustre's rarely kept When'ts from darke Lanthorn of the body crept And old Methusalem might much surpasse Times registers in monumentall-brasse He 's now Entomb'd and therefore let him lye Th' Immortall reliques of a Deity On his honored Friend Mr. ROBERT WILSON a Famed Musitian GReat Phoebus spent large rivalls every day T' inspire the muses with a well-sung Lay As if the way to banqu'rupt their controle Were to amaze then ravish the blind Soul Thus our Coy-maiden thoughts had in suspence Those sublime Raptures of 's inteligence Till he committed Rape by sweet desire Affected with that am'rous-courtier Lyre And like chaste Daphne to his high renown Our vestall minds becomes his flowry Crown T' was Phoebus large prerogative to men The fam'd Musitian he 's Apollo then What rare Eulogâ—â—ms did the Poëts paint Whose words now shallow are and Colours faint On Orpheus modulations Philters prov'd To make rude Satyrs like fair Nymphs belov'd With his harmonious straines as almost dye T' injoy the feature of this rarity Feature said I â—es They saw him sit Like the inspired Oracle of wit Those sensitive adorers thought indeed Some beautious Sybill hid i th' oaten reed But those were highflown fond Hyperbolies And Pearled praise of Diamond flatteries For all those attributes could never raise His glories to a Panygerick phrase What we do wonder call is but his due And types transparent to a better view Orph'us is but his Eccho we may give A note 'bove Ela's breath superlative To stile him Anti-Orph'us which word were Too narrow to extend that charracter Had we a riper Judgment to discry The cripled state of lame Tautology Melodius Daulia Histories do feigne Proud Ter'us did to Terquine's sport constrain It 's fiction so but that his winning Lay Sould ravish her i th' verdent fields of May Doth verifie the story since't holds good She breathes the high-wept harmony in flood As if condol'd the rape rejoyc't the gain Of honyed Ditties in a sugred strain For as by Metenpsuchosis his fate Did in this nice Platonick transmigrate She seems to tune her pleasant notes and sings As he brave Musick to th' harmnnious strings She aemulates those tones but being outvâ—'d Like Sapho's birds doth quote him deifi'd Aske not what Syrens are Here 's harmony Riddles Oedipean there opened lye And you will say these Sougsters all agree In th' high-breath'd notes of his Suaviloquie Sober Vlysses Envious at his Charmes Mercuriâ—an would impale in his joy'd armes Those dulcid concords arrogant to be A part'ner in th' inchanting Symphonie Aske not what Angels are or any choyce Of Superlun'ry Saints listâ—n to his voyce And you 'le conclude that dulciloquious lay Chants forth their holy Haleluiah Ask not how Cherubs their sweet aites distills From th' unheard Oracle of silent Quills Or spheres speaks Musick in the tong-ty'd mind But Wilson quote and then the word 's defin'd S â— Andrew HAile Rosy-morne from forth thy Lilly-bed Like milk-way Cream with rud strawberried Haile to those beautious features peaâ—â—'d i th' skye Like Nâ—ptun's brave Sea-daughtered Deity Is this sweet Plato's great admir'd return Chaste Phoenix rising from that Roman Vrne After Embalmed on that funerall Pyre Comes recreated to Prometh'an fire And here 's a Revolution Old age spent Tends to a youth-renewing Eliment While Pagan Gods but fond interment gets Dayes are the tombes out lasting Mahomets But stay a Comet in the skyes alone Is it this Genious resurrection Whose Torch Apolloes fiery beams displayes Disheveled in the flamy-bearded Rayes Or i' st the starr by Scripture-Miracles Which of some hidden mistick Manna tells Diviners let us know it soon wee 'l be Magi t' observe this rare divinity Or English Persians turn'd by holy state Adore this Heaven having candidate Speak Planitaries you who Nectar quaffe With Jove cannot a Methematick-staffe Reach the sublimest Hierarchies i' st him Cherub Angelâ— Saint or Seraphim Who mounts the Eastern Coursiers to out sâ—an Sol in his Climinant Maridian For were the Grecian Augurs Pliant here T' anatomize the surface of this Sphere They 'd say in yonder bright-disvailed Pole Inshrined lyes an Immateriall soul This holy Morn indeed lookt red espy'd A Blush of him appear'd as deifi'd Beame sdarting mildly in the smiling breasts S. Andrew sure in Sagitarius rests We might believe but Virgo farr-off shines I mean weet Mary in our Gospel-lines 'T was not in vaineâ—t his dawn of day to greet Th' unseen Saints our heard-discourse did meet For spirits though invisible they be Yet alwayes moves in an Vbiquity Suppose S. Andrew's soul a Rose
Painters need for to display In Hieroglyphicks this mysterious day As Ancients represent Church secret features By Giants Sphinxes and such antick Creatures Some Monsters Epicene and Mascaline's grace With Taurus neck but Aries head and face Name but one single word in two sence tryes Christmas Bacon-Beef as Pudding-pies Or say we'ave Metaphors from nature's stocks A Capon this day noats and shrovetide Cocks T was mad conceits When our forefathers had Naught else but crums and voiders richly clad With painted daintes so that daies at last Were kalendred with Rubricks for a fast Alas we Sons of our great Adam's age Could banquet in a dish his heâ—tage Of Pulse and water such weak faire as that Would nere like Daniel make our English fat Our appetites on divine Saint-dayes seeks T' adore Egyptian-as sweet onions Leeks Of loavs the Scripture speaks we would twist Fishes to them as Quakers Lyden's grist Is good-meat Anti-Christ No! No such thing Dove's heads do never bear the Serpents sting Hear but it Preach a text flesh bread blood wine cheer Is a Theanthropos man-sprung divine Then welcome Christmas with thy wonted I 'd bring a ranting Carroll in March-beer And Sacrifice't to thy December-name By glasses sparkling with the Red-shrine flame Only I fear Sack-Hecatombs appease Not once those Manna-eating Deities I Paper want too for offence ' its meet One pennance should in compasse of a sheet St John BLaze forth great star Nor are we sad to see That fam'd Platonick Reminiscencie Brought to a truth thus Sol retires to feast From th' west'ran Climates in his spiâ—ie East When the new-morn brave Herauld in a ray Is th' Pevolution of an ancient day For gaudy lustres mantled Ruby-bright Were ne're Eclipsed by the pale-shrin'd night In Occidentall fates but would appear Superlative-endow'd ith'high-pol'd sphere When Mosesses do dye for th' bodies-stations Those Divells summons up hot disputations With the Arch-Angels cause the spirits then Scorns to degenerate in Lapsed men And let the body fade 't is a divine Endowment must Immortall parts enshrine Eltah lost his mantle Camel's hair i th' skye not like those shaggy Commets are A Leather-girdle Capra-like Can't be As Taurus signes of man's eternity Souls throw their slip-cloaths off to holy state Earth's Winding-sheets are most impropriate For in the sacred volumes I learn this That Heavenly Angels do go nak'd in blisse Or grant his body walks It 's like the dead On one S. day fair shadows without head But can it be Was the great Lord of light Disvail'd from Morning to a Noon-day bright Ere this small beam had one sweet smiling spent In orient blazes from the Element I should have thought this day-star John did ride Rare Harbinger of that great Sun-shine's pride Enamelling all the Orbs before the ray Did in a full Meredian-Zenith sway John Prophecyed first Divinely born As pearly Sâ—ars foretell the Ruby morn He chants plain-song by a well Luted noat Breath'd Hallelujahs of a Cherub's throat And then Christs Chorus rare Harmonia Run sweet divisions on the sugred Lay. Fond Pagants now t' out last death 's fatal doom In vain erect Piramydalls of Rome The large Pantheon dayes are th' only blisse Where Genij live in Apotheosis A Letter SIr Seing my modesty has been dumb Necessity must speak and every word turn Orator nor need they wish as the foolish Roman in Caesar's Ampitheater to have your Eares the Auditors tyed to their lips since Oratory is more perswasive then when Pytho inspired the Grecian Comaedians on the pretty stages with Flexanimous Eloquence yet I will grant my Demosthenian Learning but lisping wit That my intreaties may be the more necessary Evacuated of supersluous Complements Pray therefore send me Doctor Brown's Vrn-Buriall as a courtesy I have promised and by your Courtesy you shall ever engage me Warly your servant The Answer SIR Had not your silent noats spoke the words had look'd for a Pyramid my breast to resound their Eccho as Virgill's Hylas was by all the Neighbouring Shoars but they survive as the Romans genij when their bodies are entombed in a dispute of Contra-Resurrection Strange that when the words salute the death bed of a grave the sence should walk and Pennance in a sheet of paper to expect their Vrn-buriall First Let the sense be dead as is the Letters and I will sing my Conclamatum est to them as you must Vale Vale To his Urn. WILLIAM SHIPTON SIR No wonder if my Noats be silent conferred with the boisterous inundations of your Stentorian words and are not as Nilus proud streams kept in the banks of order your breast you called a Pyramid and the Aegyptians lay up their Corn in Pyramids in my opinion you might better have called your belly the Pyramid which is the Receptacle of Corn minced into bread Your belly might the Ecchoes too rebound ' Cause emptinesse affords the greatest sound I thought your words had been asleep And so I will speak few charmes least they prove Contra-disputants of their Resurrection by confining them to a perpetuall Night Me-thinks the adulterous lines were more fit to do pennance in a sheet of paper and with my connivance been buried in the Vrn of oblivion And seeing I am weary of your clamorous words I must cry Conclamatum est or bury them with an Vltimum Vale in the fiery Urn of a Chimney J. W. The Answer HOw wishedly did you second my voyce and it were sin to say any mean noat plaid Basse on a troublesome string How wishedly did the Chorus of your fancy run divisions on my plain-song wit Your noats conferred sweetly without jarrs onely you sung Elegies and so drowned my sweet Hylas in Nilus his streams by a Seaburiall and take heed least you like i'ts Rivers bring forth impersect productions your brave lays will all be penned from a large-long to a Sembrief's-Semiquaver but I will take no more notice of them onely I should be aâ—t to quarrell at this word Boisterous but that it was fixt in the round Zodiack af your anger and charms confining things into a circle makes them burst forth into wind besides your humi-repens Muse was in the Low-Countries of wit and so might well with those Lap-land Inhabitants bag up air in the strong Caxvas-phrase of a sentence But stay methinks your Law playes the Ignoramus your Gospell acts for Erra-Patris Nilus writ for Hilas grosse Logick has no Reason if it be not Irrationallity to forget the Proprium of a man though here if I laugh I still keep my own denomination Your good decorum runs against tide while Nilus is the fit Hellespont for those Leanders your writings to swim I cannot think you were drunk with Nectar when you read that word because your Tapster-Muse forgot the barrel as to a spire unto the Eliment of water besides your rants had been Poeticall liberties and here you are restrained by the strict gaul-signification of this word in the Imprisoment of folly 't is true