kisse your hands and take my leave To the Right Honourable Archibald Earle of Ar. IF your example be obey'd The serious few will live i th' silent shade And not indanger by the wind Or Sunshine the complexion of their mind Whose beauty weares so cleare a skin That it decayes with the least taint of sin Vice growes by custome nor dare we Reject it as a slave where it breaths free And is no priviledge denyed Nor if advanc'd to higher place envyed Wherefore your Lordship in your selfe Not lancht faâ—re in the maine nor nigh the shelfe Of humbler fortune lives at â—ase Safe from the rocks oth'shore and stormes oth'Seaâ— Your soule 's a well built City where There 's such munition that no war breeds feare No rebels wilde destractions move For you the heads have crusht Rage Envy Love And therefore you defiance bid To open enmity or mischiefe hid In fawning hate and supple pride Who are on every corner fortifide Your youth not rudely led by rage Of blood is now the story of your age Which without boast you may averre 'Fore blackest danger glory did prefer Glory not purchast by the breath Of Sycophants but by encountring death Yet wildnesse nor the feare of lawes Did make you fight but justice of the cause For but mad prodigals they are Of fortitude who for it selfe love warre When well made peace had clos'd the eyes Of discord sloath did not your youth surprize Your life as well as powre did awe The bad and to the good was the best law when most men vertue did pursue In hope by it to grow in fame like you Nor when you did to court repaire Did you your manners alter with the ayre You did your modesty retaine Your faithfull dealing the same tongue and braine Nor did all the soft flattery there Inchant you so but still you truth could heare And though your roofes were richly guilt The basis was on no wards ruine built Nor were your vassals made a prey And forâ—'t to curse the Coronation day And though no bravery was knowne To out-shine yours you onely spent your owne For 't was the indulgence of fate To give y' a moderate minde and bounteous state But I my Lord who have no friend Of fortune must begin where you doe end 'T is dang'rous to approach the fire Of action nor is 't safe farre to retire Yet better lost i th' multitude Of private men then on the state t' intrude And hazard for a doubtfull smile My stocke of fame and inward peace to spoile I le therefore nigh some murm'ring brooke That wantons through my meddowes with a booke With my Castara or some friend My youth not guilty of ambition spend To my owne shade if fate permit I le whisper some soft musique of my wit And flatter so my selfe I le see By that strange motion steale into the tree But still my first and chiefest care Shall be t'appâ—ase offended heaven with prayer And in such mold my thoughts to cast That each day shall be spent as 't were my last How ere it's sweete lust to obey Vertue though rugged is the safest way An Elegy upon The Honourable Henry Cambell sonne to to the Earle of Ar. IT s false Arithmaticke to say thy breath Expir'd to soone or irreligious death Prophan'd thy holy youth For if thy yeares Be number'd by thy vertues or our teares Thou didst the old Methusalem out-live Though Time but twenty yeares account can give Of thy abode on earth yet every houre Of thy brave youth by vertues wondrous poâ—â—re Was lengthen'd to a yeare Each well-spent day Keepes young the body but the soule makes gray Such miracles workes goodnesse and behind Th' ast left to us such stories of thy minde Fit for example that when them we read We envy earth the treasure of the dead Why doe the sinfull riot and survive The feavers of their surfets Why alive Is yet disorder'd greatnesse and all they Who the loose lawes of their wilde blood obey Why lives the gamester who doth blacke the night With cheats and imprecations Why is light Looked on by those whose breath may poyson it Who sold the vigor of their strength and wit To buy diseases and thou who faire truth And vertue didst adore lost in thy youth But I le not question fate Heaven doth conveigh Those first from the darke prison of their clay Who are most fit for heaven Thou in warre Hadst tane degrees those dangers felt which are The props on which peace safely doth subsist And through the Cannons blew and horrid mist Hadst brought her light And now wert so compleat That naught but death did want to make thee great Thy death was timely then bright soule to thee And in thy fate thou suffer'dst not 'T was we Who dyed rob'd of thy life in whose increase Of reall glory both in warre and peace We all did share and thou away we feare Didst with thee the whole stocke of honour beare Each then be his owne mourner Wee 'le to thee Write hymnes upon the world an Elegie To CASTARA WHy should we feare to melt away in death May we but dye together When beneath In a coole vault we sleepe the world will prove Religious and call it the shrine of Love There when o th' wedding eve some beautious maid Suspitious of the faith of man hath paid The tribute of her vowes o th' sudden shee Two violets sprouting from the tombe will see And cry out ye sweet emblems of their zeale Who live below sprang ye up to reveale The story of our future joyes how we The faithfull patterns of their love shall be If not hang downe yours heads opprest with dew And I will weepe and wither hence with you To CASTARA Of what we were before our creation WHen Pelion wondring saw that raine which fell But now from angry Heaven to Heaven ward swell When th' Indian Ocean did the wanton play Mingling its billowes with the Balticke sea And the whole earth was water O where then Were we Castara In the fate of men Lost underneath the waves Or to beguile Heaven's justice lurkt we in Noahs floating Isle We had no being then This fleshly frame Wed to a soule long after hither came A stranger to it selfe Those moneths that were But the last age no newes of us did heare What pompe is then in us Who th' other day Were nothing and in triumph now but clay To the Moment last past O Whither dost thou flye Cannot my vow Intreat thee tarry Thou wert here but now And thou art gone like ships which plough the Sea And leave no print for man to tracke their way O unseene wealth who thee did husband can Out-vie the jewels of the Ocean The mines of th' earth One sigh well spent in thee Had beene a purchase for eternity We will not loose thee then Castara where Shall we finde out his hidden sepulcher And wee 'le revive him Not the cruell stealth Of
fire I know yet know not why I love To CASTARA Looking upon him TRansfix me with that flaming dart Iâ—h ' eye or brest or any part So thou Caâ—taâ—a spare my heart The cold Cymâ—rian by thâ—t bright Warmâ— wound i th' darknesse of his night Might both recover heat and light The rugged Scythian gently move i th' whispering shadow of some groâ—e That 's consecrate to sportive Love December see the Prim rose grow The Rivers in soft murmurs flow And from his head shake off hâ—s snow And crooked age might feele againe Those heates of which youth did complaine While fresh blood swels each withered veyne For the bright lustre of thy eyes Which but â—o warme them would suffice May burne me to a sâ—crifice To the right honourable the Countesse of Ar. WIng'd with delight yet such as still doth beare Chast vertues stamp those Children of the yeere The dayes hast nimbly and while as they flie Each of them with their predecessors vie Which yeelds most pleasure you to them dâ—spence What Time lost with his cradle innocence So â— if fancie not delude my fight See often the pale monarch of tho night Diana 'mong her nimphs For every quire Of vulgar starres who lend their weaker fire To conquer the nights chilnesse with their Queene In harmelesse revels tread the happy greene But I who am proserib'd by tyrant love Seeke out a silent exile in some grove Where nought except a solitary Spring Was ever heard to which the Nimphs did sing Narcissus obsequies For onely there Is mufique apt to catch an am'rous eare Castara oh my heart How great a flame Did even shoot into me with her name Castara hath betray'd me to a zeale Which thus distracts my hopes Flints may conceale In their cold veynes a fire But I whose heart By Love 's dissolv'd ne're practis'd that cold art But truce thou warring passion for I 'le now Madam to you addresse this solemne vow By Vertue and your selfe best friends I finde In the interiour province of your minde Such government That if great men obey Thâ— example of your order they will sway Without reproofe for onely you unite Honour with sweetenesse vertue with delight Vpon CASTARA'S frowne or smile LEarned shade of Tycho Brache who to us The stars propheticke language didst impart And even in life their mysteries discusse Castara hath o'rethrowne thy strongest arâ— When custome struggles from her beaten path Then accidents must needs uncertaine be For if Castara smile though winter hath Lock't up the rivers Summer's warme in me And Flora by the miracle reviv'd Doâ—h â—ven at her owne beauty wondring stand But should she frowne the Northerne wind arriv'd In â—idst of Summer leads his frozen band Which doth to yâ—e my youthfull blood congeale Yet in the midst of yee still flames my zeale In CASTARA All fortunes YE glorious wits who finde then Parian stone A nobler quarry to build trophies on Purchast 'gainst conquer'd time go court loud fame He wins it who but sings Castara's name Aspiring soules who grow but in a Spring Forc't by the warmth of some indulgent King Know if Castara smile I dwell in it And vie for glory with the Favourit Ye sonnes of avarice who but to shaâ—e Vncertaine treasure with a certaine care Tempt death in th' horrid Ocean I when ere I but approach her find the Indies there Heaven brightest Saint kinde to my vowes made thee Of all ambition courts th' Epitome Vpon thought Castara may dye IF she should dye as well suspect we may A body so compact should ne're decay Her brighter soule would in the Moone inspire More chastity in dimmer starres more fire You twins of Laeda as your parents are In their wild lusts may grow irregular Now in your motion for the marriner Henceforth shall onely steeâ—e his course by her And when the zeale of after time shall spie Her uncorrupâ— i th' happy marble lie The roses in her checkes unwithered 'T will turne to love and dote upon the dead For he who did to her in life dispence A heaven will banish all corruption thence Time to the moments on sight of CASTARA YOu younger children of your father stay Swift flying moments which divide the day And with your number measure out the yeare In various seasons stay and wonder here For since my cradle I so bright a grace Ne're saw as you sâ—e in Castara's face Whom nature to revenge some youthfull crime Would never frame till age had weakened Time Else spight of fate in some faire forme of clay My youth I de bodied throwne my sythe away And broke my glasse But since that cannot be I 'le punish Nature for her injurie On nimble moments in your journey flie Castara shall like me grow old and die To a friend inquiring her name whom he loved FOnd Love himselfe hopes to disguise From view if he but covered lies i th' veile of my transparent eyes Though in a smile himselfe he hide Or in a sigh thou art so tride In all his arts hee 'le be discride I must confâ—sse Deare friend my flame Whose boasts Castara so doth tame That not thy faith shall â—now her nâ—me T were prophanation of my zeale If but abroad one whisper steale They love betray who him reveale In a darke cave which never eye Could by his subtlest raâ— descry It doth like a rich minerall lye Which if she with her flâ—me refine I 'de force it from that obscure Mine And then it like pure gold should shine A Dialogue betweene HOPE and FEARE FEARE CHecke thy forward thoughts and know Hymen onely joynes their hands Who with even paces goe Shee in gold he rich in lands HOPE But Castara's purer fire When it meetes a noble flame Shuns the smoke of such desire Ioynes with love and burnes the same FEARE Yet obedience must prevaile They who o're her actions sway Would have her in th' Ocean saile And contemne tâ—y narrow sea HOPE Parents lawes must beare no weight When they hâ—ppinesse prâ—vâ—nt And our sea is not so streight But it roome hath for content FEARE Thousand hearts as victims stand At the Altar of her eyes And will partiall she command Onely thine for sacrifice HOPE Thousand victims must returne Shee the purest will designe Choose Castara which shall burne Choose the purest that is mine To CVPID Vpon a dimple in CASTARA'S cheeke NImble boy in thy warme flight What cold tyrant dimm'd thy sight Hadst thou eyes to see my faire Thou wouldst sigh thy selfe to ayre Fearing to create this one Nature had herselfe undone But if you when this you heare Fall downe murdered through your eare Begge of Iove that you may have In her cheeke a dimpled grave Lilly Rose and Violet Shall the perfum'd Hearse beset While a beauteous sheet of Lawne O're the wanton corps is drawne And all lovers use this breath Here lies Cupid blest in death Vpon CVPID'S death and buriall in CASTARA'S cheeke CUpids dead Who would not dye To
on earth Et alta a longè cognoscit DAVID TO the cold humble hermitage Not tenanted but by discoloured age Or youth enfeebled by long prayer And tame with fasts th' Almighty doth repaire But from the lofty gilded roofe Stain'd with some Pagan fiction keepes a loofe Nor the gay Landlord daignes to know Whose buildings are like Monsters but for show Ambition whither wilt thee climbe Knowing thy art the mookerâ— of time Which by examples tells the high Rich structures they must as their owners dye And while they stand their tennants are Detraction flatt'ry wantonnesse and care Pride envie arrogance and doubt Surfet and ease still tortured by the gout O rather may I patient dwell In th' injuries of an ill-cover'd cell Gainst whose too weake defence the haile The angry winds and frequent showres prevaile Where the swift measures of the day Shall be distinguisht onely as I pray And some starres solitary light Be the sole taper to the tedious night The neighbo'ring fountaine not accurst Like wine with madnesse shall allay my thirst And the wilde fruites of Nature give Dyet enough to let me feele I feele I live You wantons who improverish Seas And th' ayre dispeople your proud taste to please A greedy tyrant you obey Who varies still its tribuâ—e with the day What interest doth all the vaine Cunning of surfet to your sences gaine Since it obscure the Spirit must And bow the flesh to sleepe disease or lust While who forgetting rest and fare Watcheth the fall and rising of each starre Ponders how bright the orbes doe move And thence how much more bright the heav'ns abovâ— Where on the heads of Cherubins Th' Almightie sits disâ—aining our bold sinnes Who while on th' earth we grâ—veling lye Dare in our pride of building tempt the skie Universum statum ejus versasti in infirmitate ejus DAVID MY Soule When thou and I Shall on our frighted death-bed lye Each moment watching when pale death Shall snatch away our latest breath And 'tweene two long joyn'd Lovers force An endlesse sad divorce How wilt thou then that art My rationall and nobler part Distort thy thoughts How wilt thou try To draw from weake Philosophie Some strength and flatter thy poore state 'Cause t is the common fate How will thy spirits pant And tremble when they feele the want Of th' usuall organs and that all The vitall powers begin to fall When 't is decreed that thou must goe Yet whether who can know How fond and idle then Will seeme the misteries of men How like some dull ill-acted part The subtlest of proud humane art How shallow ev'n the deepest sea When thus we ebbe away But how shall I that is My fainting earth looke pale at this Disjointed on the racke of paine How shall I murmur how complaine And craving all the ayde of skill Finde none but what must kill Which way so ere my griefe Doth throw my fight to court releefe I shall but meete despaire for all Will prophesie my funerall The very silence of the roome Will represent a tombe And while my Childrens teares My Wives vaine hopes but certaine feares And councells of Divines advâ—nce Death in each dolefull circumstance I shall even a sad mourner be At my owne obsequie For by examples I Must know that others sorrowes dye Soone as our selves and none survive To keepe our memories alive Even our fals tombes as loath to say We once had life decay Laudate Dominum de caelis DAVID YOu Spirits who have throwne away That enveous weight of clay Which your caelestiall flight denyed Who by your glorious troopes supply The winged Hierarchie So broken in the Angells pride O you whom your Creators sight Inebriates with delight Sing forth the triumphs of his name All you enamord soules agree In a loud symphonie To give expressions to your flame To him his owne great workes relate Who daign'd to elevate You 'bove the frailtie of your birth Where you stand safe from that rude warre With which we troubled are By the rebellion of our earth While a corrupted ayre beneath Here in this World we breath Each houre some passion us assailes Now lust casts wild-fire in the blood Or that it may seeme good It selfe in wit or beauty vailes Then envie circles us with hate And layes a siege so streight No heavenly succor enters in But if Revenge admittance finde For ever hath the mind Made forseit of it selfe to sinne Assaulâ—ed thus how dare we raise Our mindes to thinke his praise Who is Aeternall and immens How dare we force our feeble wit To speake him infinite So farre above the search of sence O you who are immaculate His name may celebrate In your soules bright expansion You whom your vertues did unite To his perpetuall light That even with him you now shine one Wâ—ile we who t' earth contract our hearts And onely studie Arts To shorten the sad length of Time In place of joyes bring humble feares For hymnes repentant teares And a new sigh for every crime Qui quasi flos egreditur To the Right Honourable the Lady Cat. T. FAire Madam You May see what 's man in yoâ—d ' bright rose Though it the wealth of Nature owes It is opprest and bends with dew Which shewes though fate May promise still to warme our lippes And keepe our eyes from an ecclips It will our pride with teares abate Pâ—ore â—illy flowre Though in thy beauty thou presume And breath which doth the spring presume Thou may'â—t be cropt this very houre And though it may Then thy good fortune be to rest o th' pillow of some Ladies brest Thou 'lt wither and be throwne away For 't is thy doome However that there shall appeare No memory that thou grew'st heere Ere the tempestuous winter come But flesh is loâ—th By meditation to fore see How loath'd a nothing it must be Proud in the triumphes of its growth And tamely can Behold this mighty world decay And weare by th' age of time away Yet not discourse the fall of man But Madam these Are thoughts to cure sicke humane pride And med'cines are in vaine applyed To bodies far 'bove all disease For you so live As th' Angels in one perfect state Safe from the ruines of our fate By vertues great preservative And though we see Beautie enough to warme each heart Yet you by a chaste Chimicke Art Calcine fraile love to pietie Quid gloriaris in malicia DAVID SWell no more proud man so high For enthron'd where ere you sit Rais'd by fortune sinne and wit In a vault thou dust must lye He who 's lifted up by vice Hath a neighb ' ring precipice Dazeling his distorted eye Shallow is that unsafe sea Over which you spread your saile And the Barke you trust to fraile As the Winds it must obey Mischiefe while it prospers brings Favour from the smile of Kings Vselesse soone is throwne away Profit though sinne it extort Princes even accounted good Courting
CASTARA LONDON Printed for Will Cooke are sold at his shop at Furnivals Inne Gate in Holborne 1640. W. M. sculpsit CASTARA Carmina non prius Audita Musarum sacerdos Virginibus The third Edition Corrected and augmented LONDON Printed by T. Cotes for Will. Cooke and are to be sold at his Shop neere Fernivals-Inne Gate in Holburne 1640. The Author THe Presse hath gathered into one what fancie had scattered in many loose papers To write this love stole some houres from busineÌ„sse and my more serious study For though Poetry may challenge if not priority yet equality with the best Sciences both for antiquity and worth I never set so high a rate upon it as to give my selfe entirely up to its devotion It hath too much ayre and if without offence to our next transmarine neighbour wantons too much according to the French garbe And when it is wholly imployed in the soft straines of love his soule who entertaines it loseth much of that strength which should confirme him man The nerves of judgement are weakned most by its dalliance and when woman I meane onely as she is externally faire is the supreme object of wit we soone degenerate into effeminacy For the religion of fancie declines into a mad superstition when it adores that Idoll which is not secure from age and sicknesse Of such heathens our times afford us a pittyed multitude who can give no nobler testimony of twenty yeares imployment then some loose coppies of lust happily exprest Yet these the common people of wit blow up with their breath of praise and honour with the Sacred name of Poets To which as I beleeve they can never have any just claime so shall I not dare by this essay to lay any title since more sweate and oyle he must spend who shall arrogate so excellent an attribute Yet if the innocency of a chaste Muse shall bee more acceptable and weigh heavier in the ballance of esteeme than a fame begot in adultery of study I doubt I shall leave them no hope of competition For how unhappie soever I may be in the elocution I am sure the Theame is worthy enough In all those flames in which I burnt I never felt a wanton heate nor was my invention ever sinister from the straite way of chastity And when love builds upon that rocke it may safely contemne the battery of the waves and threatnings of the wind Since time that makes a mockery of the firmest structures shall it selfe be â—umated before that be demolisht Thus was the foundation layd And though my eye in its survey was satisfied even to curiosity yet did not my search rest there The Alabaster Ivory Porphir Iet that lent an admirable beauty to the outward building entertained me with but a halfe pleasure since they stood there onely to make sport for ruine But when my soule grew acquainted with the owner of that mansion I sound that Oratory was dombe when it began to speake her and wonder which must necessarily seize the best at that time a lethargie that dulled too much the faculties of the minde onely fit to busie themselves in discoursing her perfections Wisdome I encounter'd there that could not spend it selfe since it affected silence attentive onely to instructions as if all her sences had beene contracted into hearing Innocencie so not vitiated by conversation with the world that the subtile witted of her sex would have tearm'd it ignorance Wit which seated it selfe most in the apprehension and if not inforc't by good manners would scarce have gain'd the name of affability Modesty so timorous that it represented a besieg'd Citty standing watchfully upon her guard strongest in the loyalty to her Prince In a word all those vertues which should restore woman to her primitive state of beauty fully adorn'd her But I shall be censur'd in labouring to come nigh the truth guilty of an indiscreet Rhetoricke However such I fancied her for to say shee is or was such were to play the Merchant and boast too much the value of a lewell I possesse but have no minde to part with And though I appeare to strive against the streame of best wits in erectiâ—g the selfe same Altar both to chastity and love I will foâ— once adventure to doe well without a president Nor if my rigid friend question superciliously the setting forth of these Poems will I excuse my selfe though justly perhaps I might that importunity prevail'd and cleere judgements advis'd This onely â— dare say that if they are not strangled with envie of the present they may happily live in the not dislike of future times For then partiality ceaseth and vertue is without the idolatry of her clients esteemed worthy honour Nothing new is free from detraction and when Princes alter customes even heavie to the subject best ordinances are interpreted innovations Had I slept in the silence of my acquaintance and affected no study beyond that which the chase or field allowes Poetry had then beene no scandall upon me and the love of learning no suspition of ill husbandry But what malice begot in the Country upon ignorance or in the City upon Criticisme shall prepare against me I am armed to endure For as the face of vertue lookes faire without the adultery of Art so fame needes no ayde from rumour to strengthen her selfe If these lines want that courtship I will not say flattery which insinuates it selfe into the favour of great men best they partake of my modesty If Satyre to win applause with the envious multitude they expresse my content which maliceth none the fruition of that they esteeme happie And if not too indulgent to what is my owne I thinke even these verses will have that proportion in the worlds opinion that heaven hath allotted me in fortune not so high as to be wondred at nor so low as to be contemned To his best friend and Kinsman William Habington Esquire NOt in the silence of content and store Of private sweets ought thy Muse charme no more Then thy Castara's eare 'T were wrong such gold Should not like Mines poore nam'd to thâ—â— behold It selfe a publike joy Who her restraine Make a close prisoner of a Soveraigne Inlarge her then to triumph While we'see Such worth in beauty such desert in thee Such mutuall flames betweene you both as show How chastity though yee like love can glow Yet stand a Virgin How that full content By vertue is to soules united lent Which proves all wealth is poore all honours are But empty titâ—es hâ—ghest power but care That quits not cost Yet Heaven to Vertue kind Hath given yoâ— plenty to â—â—ffice a miâ—de That knowes but temper For beyond your state Mâ—y be a proâ—der not a happier Faâ—e I Write not this in hope t' â—ncroach on fame Oâ— adde a greater lustre to your name Bright in it selfe enough We two are knâ—wne To th' World as to our selves to be but one In blood as study And my carefull love Did
never action worth my name approve Which serv'd not thee Nor did we ere contâ—nd But who should be best pattâ—râ—e of a friend Who read thee praise thy fancie and admire Thee burning with so high and pure a fire As reaches heaven it selfe But I who know Thy soule religious to her ends where grow No siâ—nes by art or custome boldly can Stile thee more than good Poët a good man Then let thy temples shake off vulâ—ar bayes Th' hast â—uilt an Altar which enshrines â—hy praise And to the faith of after time commends Yee the best paire of lovers us of friends GEORGE TALâ—OT A Mistris IS the fairest treasure the avarice of Love can covet and the onely white at which he shootes his arrowes nor while his aime is noble can he ever hit upon repentance She is chaste for the devill enters the Idoll and gives the Oracle when wantonnesse possesseth beauty and wit maintaines it lawfull She is as faire as Nature intended her helpt perhaps to a more pleasing grace by the sweetnesse of education not by the slight of Art She is young for a woman past the delicacie of her spring may well move by vertue to respect never by beauty to affection Shee is innocent even from the knowledge of siâ—ne for vice is too strong to be wrastled with and gives her frailty the foyle She is not proude though the amorous youth interpret her modestie to that sence but in her vertue weares so much Majestie lust dares not rebell nor though masqued under the pretence of love capitulate with her She entertaines not every parley offer'd although the Articles pretended to her advantage advice and her owne feares restraine her and woman never owed ruine to too much caution She glories not in the plurality of servants a multitude of adorers heaven can onely challeng and it is impietie in her weakenesse to desire superstition from many She is deafe to the whispers of love and even on the marriage houre can breake off without the least suspition of scandall to the former liberty of her carriage She avoydes a too neere conversation with man and like the Parthian overcomes by flight Her language is not copious but apposit and she had rather suffer the reproach of being dull company than have the title of Witty with that of Bold and Wanton In her carriage she is sober and thinkes her youth expresseth life enough without the giddy motion fashion of late hath taken up She danceth to the best applause but doates not on the vanity of it nor licenceth an irregular meeting to vaunt the levity of her skill She sings but not perpetually for she knowes silence in woman is the most perswading oratory She never arriv'd to so much familiarity with man as to know the demunitive of his name and call him by it and she can show a competent favour without yeelding her hand to his gripe Shee never understood the language of a kisse but at salutation nor dares the Courtier use so much of his practised impudence as to offer the rape of it from her because chastity hath write it unlawfull and her behaviour proclaimes it unwelcome She is never sad and yet not jiggish her conscience is cleere from guilt and that secures her from sorrow She is not passionately in love with poetry because it softens the heart too much to love but she likes the harmony in the Composition and the brave examples of vertue celebrated by it she proposeth to her imitation She is not vaine in the history of her gay kindred â—r acquaintance since vertue is often tenant â—o a cottage and familiarity with greatnesse if worth be not transcendant above the title is but a glorious servitude fooles onely are willing to suffer She is not ambitious to be prais'd and yet vallues death beneath infamy And I le conclude though the next sinod of Ladies condemne this character as an heresie broacht by a Precision that onely she who hath as great a share in vertue as in beauty deserves a noble love to serve her and a free Poesie to speake her To CASTARA A Sacrifice LET the chaste Phoenix from the flowry East Bring the sweete treasure of her perfum'd nest As incense to this Altar where the name Of my Castara's grav'd by th' hand of fame Let purer Virgins to redeeme the aire From loose infection bring their zealous prayer T' assist at this great feast where they shall see What rites Love offers up to Chastity Let all the amorous Youth whose faire desire Felt never warmth but from a noble fire Bring hither their bright flâmes which here shall shine As Tapers fixt about Custara's sâ—rine While I the Priest my untam'd heart surprise And in this Temple mak 't her sacrifice To CASTARA Praying I Saw Castara pray and from the skie A winged legion of bright Angel flie To catch his vowes for feare her Vrgin prayer Might chance to mingle with impurer aire To vulgar eyes the sacred truth I write May seeme a fancie But the Eagles sight Of Saints and Pâ—ets miracles oft view Which to dull Heretikes appeare untrue Faire zeale begets such wonders O divine And purest beauty let me thee enshrine In my devoted soule and from thy praise T' enrich my garland pluck religious Bayes Shine thou the starre by which my thoughts shall move Best subject of my pen Queene of my love To Roses in the bosome of CASTARA YEE blushing Virgins happie are In the chaste Nunn'ry of her brests For hee 'd prophane so chaste a faire Who ere should call them Cupids nests Transplanted thus how bright yee grow How rich a perfume doe yee yeeld In some close garden Cowslips so Are sweeter then i th' open field In those white Cloysters live secure From the rude blasts of wanton breath Each houre more innocent and pure Till you shall wither into death Then that which living gave you roome Your glorious sepulcher shall be There wants no marble for a tombe Whose brest hath marble beene to me To CASTARA A Uow BY those chaste lamps which yeeld a silent light so the cold Vrnes of Virgins By that night Which guilty of no crime doth onely heare The Vowes of recluse Nuâ—s and th' Au'thrits prayer And by thy chaster selfe My fervent zeale Like mountaine yâ—e which the North winds congeale To purest Christall feeles no wanton fire But as the humble Pilgrim whose desire Blest in Christs cottage view by Angels hands Transported from sad Bethlem wondring stands At the great miracle So I at thee Whose beauty is the shrine of chastity Thus my bright Muse in a new orbe shall move And even teach Religion how to love To CASTARA Of his being in Love VVHere am I not in Heaven for oh I feele The Stone of Sisiphus Ixions wheele And all those tortures Poets by their wine Made judges laid on Tant â—lus are mine Nor yet am I in hell for still I stand Though giddy in my passion on firme land And still
Love To my honoured Friend and Kinsman R. St. Esquire IT shall not grieve me friend though what I write Be held no wit at Court If I delight So farre my sullen Genius as to raise It pleasure I have money wine and bayes Enough to crowne me Poet. Let those wits Who teach their Must the art of Parasies To win on easiâ— greatnesse or the yoâ—gue Spruce Lawyer who 's all impudence and tongue Sweat to divulge their fames thereby the one Gets sees the other hyre l'em best unknowne Sweet silence I embrace thee and thee Fate Which didst my birth so wisely moderate That I by want am neither vilified Nor yet by riches flatter'd into pride Resolve me friend for it must folly be Or else revenge 'gainst niggard Destinie That makes some Poets raile Why are their times So steept in gall Why so obrayde the times As if no sin call'd downe heav'ns vengeance more Then cause the world leaves some few writers poore T is true that Chapmans reverend ashes must Lye rudely mingled with the vulgar dust Cause carefull heyers the wealthy onely have To build a glorious trouble o're the grave Yet doe I not despaire some one may be So seriously devout to Poesie As to translate his reliques and finde roome In the warme Church to build him up a tombe Since Spencer hath a Stone and Draytons browes Stand petrefied i th' wall with Laurell bowes Yet girt about and nigh wise Henries herse Old Chaucer got a Marble for his verse So courteous is Death Death Poets brings So high a pompe to lodge them with their Kings Yet still they mutiny If this man please His silly Patron with Hyperboles Or most mysterious non-sence give â—is braine But the strapado in some wanton straine Hee 'le sweare the State lookes not on men of parts And if but mention'd slight all other Arts. Vaine ostentation Let us set so just A rate on knowledge that the world may trust The Poets Sentence and not still aver Each Art is to it selfe a flatterer I write to you Sir on this theame because Your soule is cleare and you observe the lawes Of Poesie so justly that I chuse Yours onely the example to my muse And till my brownes haire be mixt with gray Without a blush I le tread the sportive way My Muse directs A Poet youth may be But age doth dote without Philosophie To the World The Perfection of Love YOu who are earth and cannot rise Above your sence Boasting the envyed wealth which lyes Bright in your Mistris lips or eyes Betray a pittyed eloquence That which doth joyne our soules so light And quicke doth move That like the Eagle in his flight It doth tâ—â—nscend all humane sight Lost in the element of Love You Poets reach not this who sing The praise of dust But kneaded when by theft you bring The rose and Lilly from the Spring T' adorne the wrinckled face of lust When we speake Love nor art nor wiâ— We glosse upon Our soules engender and beget Ideas which you counterfeit In your dull progagation While Time seven ages shall disperse Wee 'le talke of Love And when our tongues hold no commerse Our thoughts shall mutually converse And yet the blood no rebell prove And though we be of severall kind Fit for offence Yet are we so by Love refin'd From impure drosse we are all mind Death could not more have conquer'd sence How suddenly those flames expire Which scorch our clay Prometâ—eas-like when we steale fire From heaven 't is endlesle and intire It may know age but not decay To the Winter WHy dost thou looke so pale decripit man Why doe thy cheeks curle like the Ocean Into such furrowes Why dost thou appeare So shaking like an ague to the yeare The Sunse is gone But yet Castara stayes And will adde stature to thy Pigmy dayes Warme moysture to thy veynes her smile can bring Thee the sweet youth and beauty of the Spring Hence with thy Pâ—lsie then and on thy head Weare flowrie chaplets as a bridegroome led To th' holy Fane Banish thy aged ruth That Virgins may admire and court thy youth And the approaching Sunne when she shall finde A Spring without him fall since uselesse blinde Upon a visit to CASTARA in the Night T' Was Night when Phoebe guided by thy rayes Chaste as my zeale with incence of her praise I humbly crept to my Castara's shrine But oh my fond mistake for there did shine A noone of beauty with such lustre crown'd As shewd mong th' impious onely night is found It was her eyes which like two Diamonds shin'd Brightest i th' dark Like which could th' Indian find But one among his rocks he would out vie In brightnesse all the Diamonds of the Skie But when her lips did opeâ— the Phoenix nest Breath'd forth her odours where might love once feast Hee 'd loath his heauenly furfets if we dare Affirme love hath a heaven without my faire To CASTARA Of the chastity of his Love WHy would you blush Castara when the name Of love you heare who never felt his flame i th' shade of melancholly night doth stray A blind Cymmerian banisht from the day Let 's chastly love Castara and not soyle This Virgin lampe by powring in the oyle Of impure thoughts O let us sympathize And onely talke i th' language of our eyes Like two starres inconjunction But beware Left th' Angels who of love compacted are Viewing how chastly burnes thy zealous fire Should soaâ—ch thee hence to joyne thee to their quire Yet take thy flight on earth for surely we So joyn'd in heaven cannot divided be The Description Of CASTARA LIke the Violet which alone Prospers in some happy shade My Castara lives unknowne To no looser eye betray'd For shee 's to her selfe untrue Who delights i th' publicke view Such is her beauty as no arts Have enricht with borrowed grace Her high birth no pride imparts For she blushes in her place Folly boasts a glorious blood She is noblest being good Cautious she knew never yet What a wanton courtship meant Not speaks loud to boast her wit In her silence eloquent Of her selfe survey she takes But 'tweene men no difference makes She obeyes with speedy will Her grave Parents wise commands And so innocent that ill She nor acts nor understands Womens feet runne still astray If once to ill they know the way She sailes by that rocke the Court Where oft honour splits her mast And retir'dnesse thinks the port Where her fame may anchor cast Vertue safely cannot sit Where vice is enthron'd for wit She holds that dayes pleasure best Where sinne waits not on delight Without maske or ball or feast Sweetly spends a winters night O're that darknesse whence is thrust Prayer and sleepe oft governs lust She her throne makes reason climbe While wild passions captive lie And each article of time Her pure thoughts to heaven flie All her vowes religious be And her love she vowes to me FINIS
set forth her pedigree Come all who glory in your wealth and view The embleme of your frailty How untrue Though flattering like friends your treasures are Her Fare hath taught who when what ever rare The either Indies boast lay richly spread For her to weare lay on her pillow dead Come likewise my Castara and behold What blessings ancient prophesie foretold Bestow'd on her in death She past away So sweetely from the world as if her clay Laid enely downe to slumber Then forbeare To let on her blest ashes fall a teare But if th' art too much woman softly weepe Lest griefe disturbe the silence of her sleepe To CASTARA Being to take a journey WHat 's death more than departure the dead go Like travelling exiles compell'd to know Those regions they heard mention of T is th' art Of sorrowes sayes who dye doe but depart Then weepe thy funerall teares which heaven t' adorne The beauteous tresses of the weeping morne Will rob me of and thus my tombe shall be As naked as it had no obsequie Know in these lines sad musicke to thy eare My sad Castara you the sermon here Which I preach o're my hearse And dead I tell My owne lives story ring but my owne knell But when I shall returne know 't is thy breath In sighes divided rescues me from death To CASTARA Weeping CAstara O you are too prodigall o th' treasure of your teares which thus let fall Make no returne well plac'd calme peace might bring To the loud wars â—ach free a captiv'd King So the unskilfull Indian those bright jems Which might adde adde majestie to Diadems 'Mong the waves scatters as if he would store The thanklesse Sea to make our Empire poore When heaven darts thunder at the wombe of Time Cause with each moment it brings forth a crime Or else despairing to roote out abuse Would ruine vitious earth be then profuse Light chas'd rude chaos from the woâ—ld before Thy teares by hindring it's returne worke more To CASTARA Upon a sigh I Heard a sigh and something in my eare Did whisper what my soule before did feare That it was breath'd by thee May th' easie Spring Enricht with odours wanton on the wing Of th'Easterne wind may ne'râ— his beauty fade If he the treasure of this breath convey'd 'T was thine by 'th musicke which th'harmonious breath Of Swans is like propheticke in their death And th'odour for as it the nard expires Perfuming Phoenix-like his funerall fires The winds of Paradice send such a gale To make the Lovers vessels calmely saile To his lov'd Port. This shall where it inspires Increase the chaste extinguish unchaste fires To the Right Honourable the Lady F. Madam YOu saw our loves prais'd the mutuall flame In which as incense to your sacred name Burnes a religious zeale May we be lost To one another and our fire be frost When we omit to pay the tribute due To worth and vertue and in them to you Who are the soule of women Others be But beauteous parts oth'female body she Who boasts how many nimble Cupids skip Through her bright face is but an eye or lip The other who in her soft brests can show Warme Violets growing in a banke of snow And vaunts the lovely wonder is but skin Nor is she but a hand who holds within The chrystall violl of her wealthy palme The precions sweating of the Easterne balme And all these if you them together take And joyne with art â—ill but one body make To which the soule each vitall motion gives You are infus'd into it and it lives But should you up to your blest mansion flie How loath'd an object would the carkasse lie You are all mind Castara when she lookes On you th' Epitome of all that â—ookes Or e're tradition taught who gives such praise Vnto your sex that now even customes sayes He hath a female soule who ere hath writ Volumes which learning comprehend and wâ—it Castara cries to me Searchouâ— and find The Mines of vvisedome in her learned mind And trace her steps to honour I aspire Enough to worth while I her worth admire To CASTARA Against opinion VVHy should we build Castara in the aire Of fraile opinion Why admire as faire What the weake faith of man gives us for right The jugling world cheats but the weaker sight What is in greatnesse happy As free mirth As ample pleasures of th' indulgent earth VVe joy who on the ground our mansion finde As they who saile like witches in the wind Of Court applause What can their powerfull spell Over inchanted man more than compell Him into various formes Nor serves their charme Themselves to good but to worke others harme Tyrant Opinion but depose And we VVill absolute i th' happiest Empire be To CASTARA Vpon Beautie CAstara see that dust the sportive vvind So vvantons vvith 'T is happ'ly all you 'le finde Left of some beauty and hovv still it flies To trouble as it did in life our eyes O empty boast of flesh Though our heires gild The farre fetch Phrigian marble vvhich shall build A burthen to our a heâ— yâ—t will death Betray them to the sport of every breath Dost thou poore relique of our frailty still Swell up with glory Or is it thy skill To mocke weake man whom every wind of praise Into the aire doth 'bove his center raise If so mocke on And tell him that his lust To beauti 's madnesse For it courts but dust To CASTARA Melancholly WEre but that sigh a penitentiall breath That thou art mine It would blow with it death T' inclose me in ray marble Where I 'de be Slave to the tyrant wormes to set thee free What should we envy Though with larger saile Some dance upon the Ocean yet more fraile And faithlesse is that wave than where â—e glide Blest in the safâ—tâ— of a private tide We still have land in ken And 'cause our boat Dares not affront the weather wee 'le ne're float Farre from the shore To daring them each cloud Is big with thunder every wind speakes loud And though wild rockes about the shore appeare Yet vertue will finde roome to anchor there A Dialogue betweene ARAPHILL and CASTARA ARAPH CAstara you too fondly court The silken peace with which we cover'd are Vnquiet time may for his sport Vp from its iron den rowse sleepy warre CAST. Then in the language of the drum I will instruct my yet afrighted â—are All women shall in me be dumbe If I but with my Araphill be there ARAPH If Fate like an unfaithfull gale Which having vow'd to th' ship a faire event o th' sudden rends her hopefull saile Blow ruine will Castara then repent CAST. Love shall in that tempestuous showre Her brightest blossome like the black-thorne show VVeake friendship prospers by the powre Of fortunes Sunne I 'le in her winter grow ARAPH If on my skin the noysome skar I should o th' leprosie or canker weare Or if the sulph'rous breath of
learned WILLIAM Earle of St. My Lord THe Laurell doth your reverend temples wreath As aptly now as when your youth did breath Those tragicke raptures which your name shall save From the blacke edict of a tyrant grave Nor shall your Day ere set till the Sunne shall From the blind heavens like a cynder fall And all the elements intend their strife To ruine what they fram'd Then your fames life When desp'rate Time lies gasping shall expire Attended by the world i th' generall fire Fame lengthens thus her selfe And I to tread Your steps to glory search among the dead Where Vertue lies obscur'd that as I give Life to her tombe I spight of time may live Now I resolve in triumph of my verse To bring great Talbot from that forren hearse Which yet doth to her fright his dust enclose Then to sing Herbert who so glorious rose With the fourth Edward that his faith doth shine Yet in the faith of noblest Pembrookes line Sometimes my swelling spirits I prepare To speake the mighty Percy neerest heire In merits as in blood to CHARLES the great Then Darbies worth and greatnesse to repeat Or Morleyes honour or Mounteaglâ—s fame Whose valour lives eterniz'd in his name But while I thinke to sing those of my bloud And my Castara's Loves unruly floâ—d Breakes in and beares away what ever stands Built by my bâ—sie fancy on the sands To CASTARA Vpon an embrace 'BOut th' Husband Oke the Vine Thus wreathes to kisse his leavy face Their streames thus Rivers joyne And lose themselves in the embrace But Trees want sence when they infold And Waters when they meet are cold Thus Turtles bill and grone Their loves into each others eare Two flames thus burne in one When their curl'd heads to heaven they reare But Birds want soule though not desire And flames materiall soone expire If not prophane we 'll say When Angels colse their joyes are such For we no love obey That 's bastard to a fleshly touch Let 's close Castara then since thus We patterne Angels and they us To the Honourable G. T. LEt not thy grones force Eccho from her cave Or interrupt her weeping o're that wave Which last Narcissuâ— kist let no darke grove Be taught to whilper stories of thy love What though the wind be turn'd Canst thou not saile By vertue of a cleane contrary gale Into some other Port Where thou wilt find It was thy better Genius chang'd the wind To steâ—re thee to some Iland in the West For wealth and pleasure that transcends thy East Though Astrodora like a sullen starre Eclipse her selfe i th' sky of beauty are Ten thousand other fires some bright as she And who with milder beames may shine on thee Nor yet doth this Eclipse beare a portent That should affright the world The firmament Enjoyes the light it did a Sunne as cleare And the young Spring doth like a Bride appeare As fairely wed to the Thessalian grove As e're it was though she and you not love And we two who like two bright stars have shin'd i th' heaven of friendship are as firmely joyn'd As bloud and love first fram'd us And to be Lov'd and thought worthy to be lov'd by thee Iâ— to be glorious Since fame cannot lend An honour equals that of Talbots friend Nor envie me that my Castara's flame Yeelds me a constant warmth Though first I camâ— To marriage happy Ilands Seas to thee Will yeeld as smooth away and winds as free Which shall conduct thee if hope may divine To this delicious port and make love thine To CASTARA The reward of Innocent Love WE saw and woo'd each others eyes My soule contracted then with thine And both burnt in one sacrifice By which our Marriage grew divine Let wilder youth whose soule is sense Prophane the Temple of delight And purchase endlesse penitence With the stolne pleasure of one night Time's ever ours while we dispise The sensuall idoll of our clay For though the Sunne doe set and rise We joy one everlasting day Whose light no jealous clouds obscure While each of us shine innocent The troubled streame is still impure With vertue flies away content And though opinion often erre Wee 'le court the modest smile of fame For sinnes blacke danger circles her Who hath infection in her name Thus when to one darke silent roome Death shall our loving coffins thrust Fame will build columnes on our tombe And adde a perfume to our dust To my noblest Friend Sir I. P. Knight Sir THough my deare Talbots Fate exact a sad And heavy brow my verse shall not be clad For him this houre in mourning I will write To you the glory of a pompous night Which none except sobriety who wit Or cloathes could boast but freely did admit I who still sinne for company was there And tasted of the glorious supper where Meate was the least of wonder Though the nest o th' Phaenix rifled seemd t' amaze the feast And th' Ocean left so poore that it alone Could since vant wretched herring and poore Iohn Lucullus surfets were but types of this And whatsoever riot mention'd is In story did but the dull Zanye play To this proud night which rather wee 'le terme day For th' artificall lights so thicke were set That the bright Sun seem'd this to connterfeit But seven whom whether we should Sages call Or deadly sinnes â—le not dispute were all Invited to this pompe And yet I dare Pawne my lov'd Muse th' Hungarian did prepare Not halfe that quantity of victuall when He layd his happy siege to Noâ—ilinghen The mist of the perfumes was breath'd so thicke That Liex himselfe though his sight fam'd so quicke Had there scarce spyed one sober For the wealth Of the Canaries was exhaust the health Of his good Majestye to celebrate who 'le judge them loyall subjects without that Yet they who some fond priviledge to maintaine VVould have rebeld their best freehold their braine Surrender'd there and five fifteenes did pay To drinke his happy life and raigne O day It was thy piety to flye th' hadst beene Found accessary else to this fond sinne But I forget to speake each stratagem By which the dishes enter'd and in them Each luscious miracle As if more bookes Had written beene o th' mystery of Cookes Then the Philos'phers stone here we did see All wonders in the kitchin Alchimy But I le not leave you there before you part You shall have something of another art A banquet raining downe so fast the good Old Patriarch would have thought a generall flood Heaven open'd and from thence a mighty showre Of Amber comfits it sweete selfe did powre Vpon our heads and Suckets from our eye Like thickend clouds did steale away the sky That it was question'd whether heaven were Black-fryers and â—ach starre a confectioner But I too long detaine you at a feast You hap'ly surfet of now every guest Is reeld downe to his coach I licence cravè Sir but to
owneâ— I le prâ—ve it that no sorrow ere was knowne Reall as mine All other mourners keepe In griefe a method without forme I weepe The sonne rich in his fathers fate hath eyes Wet just as long as are the obsequies The widow formerly a yeare doth spend In her so courtly blackes But for a Friend We weepe an age and more than th' Anchorit have Our very thoughts confin'd within a Grave Chast Love who hadst thy tryumph in my flame And thou Castara who had hadst a name But for this sorrow glorious Now my verse Is lost to you and onely on Talbots herse Sadly attends And till times fatall hand Ruines what 's left of Churches there shall stand There to thy selfe deare Talbot I le repeate Thy owne brave story tell thy selfe how great Thou wert in thy mindes Empire and how all Who out-live thee see but the Funerall Of glory and if yet some vertuous be They but weake apparitions are of thee So setled were thy thoughts each action so Discreetely ordered that nor ebbe nor flow Was ere perceiv'd in thee each word mature And every sceane of life from sinne so pure That scarce in its whole history we can Finde vice enough to say thou weâ—t but man Horror to say thou wert Curst that we must Addresse our language to a little dust And seeke for Talbot there Injurious fate To lay my lifes ambition desolate Yet thus much comfort have I that I know Not how it can give such another blow Elegie 5. CHast as the Nuns first vow as fairely bright As when by death her Soule shines in full light Freed from th' eclipse of Earth each word that came From thee deare Talbot did beget a flame T'enkindle vertue which so faire by thee Became man that blind mole her face did see But now to'our eye she 's lost and if she dwell Yet on the earth she 's conffin'd in the cell Of some cold Hermit who so keepes her there As if of her the old man jealous were Nor ever showes her beauty but to some Carthusian who even by his vow is dumbe So ' mid the yce of the farre Northren sea A starre about the Articke Circle may Then ours yeeld clearer light yet that but shall Serve at the froxen Pilots funerall Thou brightest constellation to this maine Which all we sinners traffique on didst daigne The bounty of thy fire which with so cleare And constant beames did our frayle vessels steere That safely we what storme so ere bore sway Past ore the rugged Alpes of th' angry Sea But now vve sayle at randome Every rocke The folly doth of our ambition mocke And splits our hopes To every Sirens breath We listen and even court the face of death If painted ore by pleasure Every wave I ft hath delight w'embrace though 't prove a grave So ruinous is the defect of thee To th'undone world in gen'rall But to me Who liv'd one life with thine drew but one breath Possest with th' same mind thoughts 't was death And now by fate I but my selfe survive To keepe his mem'ry and my griefes alive Where shall I then begin to weepe No grove Silent and darke but is prophan'd by Love With his warme whispers and faint idle feares His busie hopes loud sighes and caselesse teares â—ach â—are is so enchanted that no breath Is listned to which mockes report of death I le tuâ—ne my griefe then inward and deplore My ruine to my selfe repeating ore The story of his vertues untill I Not write but am my selfe his Elegie Elegie 6. GOe stop the swift-wing'd moments in their flight To their yet unknowne coast goe hinder night From its approach on day and force day rise From the faire East of some bright beauties eyeâ— Else vaunt not the proud miracle of verse It hath no powre For mine from his blacke herse Redeemes not Talâ—ot who could as the breath Of winter coffin'd lyes silent as death Stealing on th' Anch'rit who even wants an eare To breath into his soft expiring prayer For had thy life beene by thy vertues spun Out to a length thou hadst ouâ—-liv'd the Sunne And clos'd the worlds great eye or were not all Our wonders fiction from thy funerall Thou hadst received new life and liv'd to be The conqueror o're death inspir'd by me But all we Poets glory in is vaine And empty triumph Art cannot regaine One poore houre lost nor reskew a small flye By a fooles finger destinate to dye Live then in thy true life great soule for set At liberty by death thou owest no debt T' exacting Nature Live freed from the sport Of time and fortune in yand ' starry court A glorious Potentate while we below But fashion wayes to mitigate our woe We follow campes and to our hopes propose Th' insulting victor not remembring those Dismembred trunkes who gave him victory By a loath'd faâ—e We covetous Merchants be And to our aâ—mes pretend treasure and sway Forgetfull of the treasons of the Sea The shootings of a wounded conscience We patiently sustaine to serve our sence With a short pleasure So we empire gaine And rule the fate of businesse the sad paine Of action we contemne and the affright Which with pale visions still attends our night Our-joyes false apparitions but our feares Are certaine prophecies And till our eares Reach that caelestiall musique which thine now So cheerefully receive we must allow No comfort to our griefes from which to be Exempted is in death to follow thee Elegie 7. THere is no peace in sinne Aeternall war Doth rage 'mong vices But all vertues are Friends 'mong themselves and choisest accents be Harsh Eccho's of their heavenly harmonie While thou didst live we did that union finde In the so faire republick of thy mind Where discord never swel'd And as we dare Affirme those goodly structures temples are Where well-tun'd quires strike zeale into the eare The musique of thy soule made us say there God had his Altars every breath a spice And each religious act a sacrifice But death hath that demolisht All our eye Of thee now sees doth like a Cittie lye Raz'd by the cannon Where is then that flame That added warmth and beauty to thy frame Fled heaven-ward to repaire with its pure fire The losses of some maim'd Seraphick quire Or hovers it beneath the world t' uphold From generall ruine and expell that cold Dull humor weakens it If so it be My sorrow yet must prayse fates charity But thy example if kinde heaven had daignd Frailty that favour had mankind regaind To his first purity For that the wit Of vice might not except 'gainst th' Ancherit As too to strickt thou didst uncloyster'd live Teaching the soule by what preservative She may from sinnes contagion live secure Though all the ayre she suckt in were impure In this darke mist of error with a cleare Vnspotted light thy vertue did appeare T' obray'd corrupted man How could the rage Of untam'd lust have scorcht
knowes a benefit and the contempt of it ingratitude and therefore loves but not doates on life Death how deformed soever an aspect it weares he is not frighted with since it not annihilates but uncloudes the soule He therefore stands every moment prepared to dyeâ— and though he freely yeelds up himselfe when age or sickenesse sommon him yet he with more alacritie puts off his earth when the profession of faith crownes him a martyr Domine labia mea aperies DAVID NOe monument of me remaine My mem orie rust In the same marble with my dust Ere I the spreadingst Laurell gaine By writing wanton or profane Ye glorious wonders of the skies Shine still bright starres Th' Almighties mystick Characters I le not your beautious lights surprize T' illuminate a womans eyes Nor to perfume her veines will I In each one set The purple of the violet The untoucht flowre may grow and dye Safe from my fancieâ— injurie Open my lippes great God! and then I le soare above The humble flight of carnall love Vpward to thee I le force my pen And trace no path of vulgar men For what can our unbounded soules Worthy to be Their object finde excepting thee Where can I fixe since time controuses Our pride whose motion all thingâ— roules Should I my selfe ingratiate Tâ— a Princes smile How soone may death my hopes beguile And should I farme the proudest state I 'me Tennant to uncertaine fate If I court gold will it not rust And if my love Toward a female beauty move How will that surfet of our lust Distast us when resolv'd to dust But thou Aeternall banquet where For ever we May feede without satietie Who harmonie art to the eare Who art while all things else appeare While up to thee I shoote my flame Thou dost dispence A holy death that murders sence And makes me scorne all pompes that ayme At other triumphes than thy name It crownes me with a victory So heavenly all That 's earth from me away doth fall And I from my corruption free Grow in my vowes even part of thee Versa est in luctum cythara mea IOB LOve I no orgies sing Whereby thy mercies to invoke Nor from the East rich perfumes bring To cloude thy Altars with the precious smoake Nor while I did frequent Those fanes by lovers rais'd to thee Did I loose heathenish rites invent To force a blush from injur'd Chastitie Religious was the charme I used affection to intice And thought none burnt more bright or warme Yeâ— chaste as winter was the Sacrifice But now I thee bequeath To the soft silken youths at Court Who may their witty passions breath To raise their Mistresse smile or make her sport They 'le smooth thee into rime Such as shall catch the wanton eare And win opinion with the time To make them a high sayle of honour beare And may a powerfull smile Cherish their flatteries of wit While I my life of fame begâ—ile And under my owne vine uncourted sit For I have scene the Pine Famed for its travels ore the Sea Broken with stormes and age decline And in some creeke unpittied rot away I have seene Caedars fall And in their roome a Mushrome grow I have seene Comets threatning all Vanish themselves I have seene Princes so Vaine triviall dust weake man Where is that vertue of thy breath That others save or ruine can When thou thy selfe art cal'd t' account by death When I consider thee The scorne of Time and sport of fate How can I turne to jollitie My ill-strung Harpe and court the delicate How can I but disdaine The emptie fallacies of mirth And in my midnight thoughts retaine How high so ere I spread my root 's in earth Fond youth too long I playd The wanton with a false delight Which when I toucht I found a shade That onely wrought on th' error of my â—ight Then since pride doth betray The soule to flatter'd ignorance I from the World will steale away And by humility my thoughts advance Perdam Sapientiam Sapientum To the Right Honorable the Lord Windsor My Lord FOrgive my envie to the World while I Commend those sober thoughts perswade you fly The glorious troubles of the Court. For though The vale lyes open to each overflow And in the humble shâ—de we gather ill And aguish ayres yet lightnings oftner kill o th' naked heights of mountaines whereon we May have more prospect not securitie For when with losse of breath we have orecome Some steepe ascent of power and forc'd a roome On the so envi'd hill how doe our hearts Pant with the labour and how many arts More subtle must we practise to defend Our pride from sliding then we did t' ascend How doth successe delude the mysteries And all th' involv'd designements of the wise How doth that Power our Pollitickes call chance Racke them till they confesse the ignorance Of humane wit Which when 't is fortified So strong with reason that it doth deride All adverse force o th' sudden findes its head Inâ—angled in a spiders slender thread Coelestiall Providence How thou dost mocke The boast of earthly wisdome On some rocke When man hath a structure with such art It doth disdaine to tremble at the dart Of thunder or to shrinke oppos'd by all The angry winds it of it selfe doth fall Ev'n in a calme so gentle that no ayre Breaths loude enough to stirre a Virgins haiâ—e But misery of judgement Though past time Instruct us by th' ill fortune of their crimes And shew us how we may secure our state From pittied ruine by anothers fate Yet we contemning all such sad advice Pursue to build thougth on a precipice But you my Lord prevented by foresight To engage your selfe to such an unsafe height And in your selfe both great and rich enough Resused t' expose your vessell to the rough Vncertaine sea of businesse whence even they Who make the best returne are forc't to say The wealth we by our worldly traffique gaine Weighes light if ballanc'd with the feare or paine Paucitatem dierum meorum nuncia mihi DAVID TEll me O great All knowing God What period Hast thou unto my dayes assign'd Like some old leafelesse tree shall I Wither away or violently Fall by the axe by lightning or the Wind Heere where I first drew vitall breath Shall I meete death And finde in the same vault a roome Where my â—ore-fathers ashes sâ—eepe Or shall I dye where none shall weepe My timelesse fate and my cold earth intombe Shall I'gainst the swift Parthians fight And in their flight Receive my death Or shall I see That envied peace in which we are Triumphant yet disturb'd by warre And perish by th' invading enemie Astrologers who calculate Vncertaine fate Affirme my scheme doth not presage Any abridgement of my dayes And the Phisitian gravely sayes I may enjoy a reverent length of age But they are jugglers and by slight Of art the sight Of faith delude and in their
a 'cause to dye But these are tâ—oughts And action t is doth give A soule to courage and make vertue live Which doth not dwell upon the valiant tongue Of bold Philosophie but in the strong Vndaunted spirit which encounters those Sad dangers we to fancie scarce propose Yet t is the true and highest fortitude To keepe our inward enemies subdued Not to permit our passions over sway Our actions nor our wanton flâ—sh betray The soules chaste Empire for however we To th' outward shew may gaine a victory And proudly triumph if to conquour sinne We combate not we are at warre within Vias tuas Domine demonstr a mihi WHere have I wandred In what way Horrid as night Increast by stormes did I delight Though my sad soule did often say T' was death and madnesse so to stray On thaâ— false ground I joy'd to tread Which seem'd most faire Though every path had a new snare And every turning still did lead To the darke Region of the dead But with the surfet of delight I am so tyred That now I loath what I admired And my distasted appetite So ' bhors the meate it hates the sight For should we naked sinne discry Not beautified By th' ayde of wantonnesse and pride Like some mishapen birth 't would lye A torment to th' affrighted eye But cloath'd in beauty and respect Even ore the wise How powerfull doth it tyrannize Whose monstrous forme should they detract They famine sooner would affect And since those shadowes which oppresse My sight begin To cleere and show the shape of sinne A Scorpion sooner be my guest And warme his venome in my brest May I before I grow so vile By sinne agen Be throwne off as a scorne to men May th' angry world decree t' excile Me to some yet unpeopled Isle Where while I straggle and in vaine Labor to finde Some creature that shall have a minde What justice have I to complaine If I thy inward grace retaine My God if thou shalt not exclude Thy comfort thence What place can seeme to troubled sence So melancholly darke and rude To be esteem'd a solitude Cast me upon some naked shore Where I may tracke Onely the print of some sad wracke If thou be there though the seas roare I shall no gentler calme implore Should the Cymmerians whom no ray Doth ere enlight But gaine thy grace th' have lost their night Not sinners at high noone but they 'Mong their blind cloudes have found the day Et Exaltavit Humiles HOw cheerefully th' unpartiall Sunne Gilds with his beames The narrow streames o th' Brooke which silently doth runne Without a name And yet disdaines to lend his flame To the wide channell of the Thames The largest mountaines barren lye And lightning feare Though they appeare To bid defiance to the skie Which in one houre W'have seene the opening earth devoure When in their height they proudest were But th' humble man heaves up his head Like some rich vale Whose fruites nere faile With flowres with corne and vines ore-spread Nor doth complaine Oreflowed by an ill season'd raine Or batter'd by a storme of haile Like a tall Barke with treasure fraught He the seas cleere Doth quiet steere But when they are t' a tempest wrought More gallantly He spreads his saile and doth more high By swelling of the waves appeare For the Almighty joyes to force The glorious tide Of humane pride To th' lowest ebbe that ore his course Which rudely bore Downe what oppos'd it heretofore His feeblest enemie may stride But from his ill-thatcht roofe he brings The Cottager And doth preferre Him to th' adored state of Kings He bids that hand Which labour hath made rough and â—and The all commanding Scepter beare Let then the mighty cease to boast Their boundlesse sway Since in their Sea Few sayle but by some storme are lost Let them themselves Beware for they are their owne shelves Man still himselfe hath cast away Dominus Dominantium SVpreame Divinitie Who yet Could ever finde By the bold scrutinie of wit The treasurie where thou lock'st up the wind What Majesty of Princes can A tempest awe When the distracted Ocean Swells to Sedition and obeyes no Law How wretched doth the Tyrant stand Without a boast When his rich fleeâ—e even touching land He by some storme in his owne Port sees lost Vaine pompe of life what narrow bound Ambition Is circled with How false a ground Hath humane pride to build its triumphs on And Nature how dost thou delude Our search to know When the same windes which here intrude On us with frosts and onely winter blow Breath temprate on th' adjoyning earth And gently bring To the glad field a fruitfull birth With all the treasures of a wanton Spring How diversly death doth assaile How sporting kill While one is scorcht up in the vale The other is congeald o th' neighboring hill While he with heates doth dying glow Above he sees The other hedg'd in with his snow And envies him his ice although he freeze Proud folly of pretending Art Be ever dumbe And humble thy aspiring heart When thou findest glorious Reason overcome And you A strologers whose eye Survayes the starres And offâ—r thence to prophesie Successe in peace and the event of warres Throw downe your eyes upon that dust You proudly tread And know to that resolve you must That is the scheme where all their fate may read Cogitabo pro peccato meo IN what darke silent grove Profan'd by no unholy love Where witty melancholy nere Did carve the trees or wound the ayre Shall I religious leasure winne To weepe away my sinne How fondly have I spent My youthes unvalued treasure lent To traffique for Coelestiall joyes My unripe yeares pursuing toyes Iudging things best that were most gay Fled unobserv'd away Growne elder I admired Our Poets as from heaven inspired VVhat Obeliskes decreed I fit For spencers Art and Sydnyes wit But waxing sober soone I found Fame but an Idle sound Then I my blood obey'd And each bright face an Idoll made Verse in an humble Sacrifice I offer'd to my Mistresse eyes But I no sooner grace did win But met the devill within But growne more polliticke I tooke account of each state tricke Observ'd each motion judg'd him wise VVho had a conscience fit to rise VVhom soone I found but forme and rule And the more serious foole But now my soule prepare To ponder what and where we are How fraile is life how vaine a breath Opinion how uncertaine death How onely a poore stone shall beare VVitnesse that once we were How a shrill Trumpet shall Vs to the barre as traytors call Then shall we see too late that pride Hath hope with flattery bely'd And that the mighty in command Pale Cowards there must stand Recogitabo tibi omnes annos meos ISAY TIme where didst thou those yeares inter VVhich I have seene decease My soules at war and truth bids her Finde out their hidden Sepulcher To give her troubles peace Pregnant with flowers doth not the Spring Like a late bride appeare VVhos 's fether'd Musicke onely bring Caresses and no Requiem sing On the departed yeare The Earth like some rich wanton heire VVhose Parents coffin'd lye Forgets it once lookt pale and bare And doth for vanities prepare As the Spring nere should dye The present houre flattered by all Reflects not on the last But I like a sad factor shall T' account my life each moment call And onely weepe the past My mem'ry trackes each severall way Since Reason did begin Over my actions her first sway And teacheth me that each new day Did onely vary sin Poore banckrout Conscience where are those Rich houres but farm'd to thee How carelessâ—ly I some did lose And other to my lust dispose As no rent day should be I have infected with impure Disorders my past yeares But I le to penitence inure Those that succeed There is no cure Nor Antidote but teares Cupio dissolvi Paule THe soule which doth with God unite Those gayities how doth she slight VVhich ore opinion sway Like sacred Virgin wax which shines On Altars or on Martyrs shrines How doth she burne away How violent are her throwes till she From envious earth delivered be Which doth her flight restraine How doth she doate on whips and rackes On fires and the so dreaded Axe And every murd'ring paine How soone she leaves the pride of wealth The flatteries of youth and health And fames more precious breath And every gaudy circumstance That doth the pompe of life advance At the approach of death The cunning of Astrologers Observes each motion of the starres Placing all knowledge there And Lovers in their Mistresse eyes Contract those wonders of the â—kies And seeke no higher sphere The wandring Pilot sweates to find The causes that produce the wind Still gazing on the Pole The Politician scornes all Art But what doth pride and power impart And swells the ambitious soule But he whom heavenly fire doth warme And 'gainst these powerfull follies arme Doth soberly disdaine All these fond humane misteries As the deceitfull and unwise Distempers of our braine He as a burden beares his clay Yet vainely throwes it not away On every idle cause But with the same untroubled eye Can or resolve to live or dye Regardlesse of th' applause My God! If 't is thy great decree That this must the last moment be Wherein I breath this ayre My heart obeyes joy'd to retreate From the false favours of the great And treachery of the faire When thou shalt please this soulet ' enthrowne Above impure corruption What should I grieve or feare To thinke this breathlesse body must Become a loathsome heape of dust And nere againe appeare For in the fire when Ore is tryed And by that torment purified Doe we deplore the losse And when thou shalt my soule refine That it thereby may purer shine Shall I grieve for the drosse FINIS