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University of Virginia Library

Men-Miracles

With other Poemes. By M. LL. St [i.e.Martin Lluelyn]

Lluelyn, Martin (1616-1682)

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To my Ingenious Freind Captaine LL.

To the Author on his Poems.

To the Author.

To the Author on his Poems.

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The Author's Account of his Poem.

The Argument of the Poem.

A CVRSE TO VULCAN,

The Life and Death of Jacke the Nimble, cheife saddle Nagge to Doctor S. C. of C.

Enter Maurice Dancer.

Enter the Country Fidler.

Enter the Taberer.

Enter the Bag-piper.

Enter the Harper.

Epilogue. The Witney Prayer.

Master W. H. his Song to his Wife at Windsor.

The Spy of the Buttery,

[Yet for aule her hast]

Verses made in Bed to one studying in the same Chamber.

Epithalium. To Mistris M. A.

Song against Ale.

Ralph's speciall Care,

Irish-love Song.

To my Lord B. of Ch. when I presented him a Play.

To Dr. F. Deane of Ch. Ch. now Vicechancellour of Oxford, upon the Same occasion.

To my Lord C. An. 1640.

To my freind Mr J. F. at Leyden.

To the same, being his Valentine.

On the Author of Love Melancholy. Second Edition.

To my Lord B. of S. he being at Yorke.

To my Lord B. of S. on New-yeares Day, 1643.

To Mistris D. C.

A SATYR, OCCASIONED BY The Author's Survey of a Scandalous Pamphlet Intituled, The Kings Cabinet Opened.

Elegie. On the Death of Sir Henry Spelman.

Elegie On the Death of Sir Bevile Grenvile.

Elegie. On C. W. H. slaine at Newarke.

Elegie. On the death of Sir John Smith Standard Bearer to His Majesty.

Elegie. On the death of Sir Horatio Vere.

Elegie. On the Death of Master R. B. Student of Ch. Ch.

Elegie. On the death of Master H. C.

Epitaph on the same.

Epitaph on—borne tenne Weekes before his Time, died at three Quarters.

Elegie. On the death of Master W. Cartwright.

AN ELEGIE ON THE MOST REVEREND FATHER in God Wiillam, Lord Arch-Bishop of Canterbury,

Elegie: On the death of Mistris Chaworth.

Epitaph. On Mistris R.

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To the Author.

In such an age as this, when Ignorance
Is sainted, and usurpes the chaire of sence.
What boldnes does impale thy brow dear freind,
That thou to arts and learning dar'st pretend?
Tis well thou wear'st a Sword! But when thy Wit
Is such, that foure yeares Warre but heightens it.
Thou need'st a stronger guard, that may outlooke
The sternest danger, and such is thy Booke.
Thus arm'd thou stand'st above the power of Fate.
And if bold Wickednesse should ruinate
The life and Nerves of purer arts, yet thou
Shouldest live, and a fresh lawrell crowne thy brow;
And the next age shall say, when Learning fell,
Thou onely wrot'st and wert Man-miracle,

W. C.