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Pocula Castalia

The Authors Motto. Fortunes Tennis-Ball. Eliza. Poems. Epigrams. &c. By R. B. [i.e Robert Baron]

Baron, Robert

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THE AUTHORS MOTTO.

FORTVNES TENNIS-BALL.

ELIZA

POEMS.

EPIGRAMS, &c.

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1

Great Cesar's Barne, Romes life, and Granary,
That so august, so great, so fertile Isle,
Where th'kicking Monster on his back doth lie,
Spitting forth flames through the Ætnean pile,
Whose smothering smoke, & sparkles at random driven
Do seem to lend new clouds and Starres to Heaven.

2

Therevtvs rul'd; A far worse man than King,
A Zealous Vot'ry of Diana's borne,
His shrill voice made each Quire of Eccho's ring,
His onely musicke was the Hunting Horne,
And game to see his flapmouth'd kennell follow
The chase, and yelping keep time with his hollow.

3

Neere to Palermo was a flowrie valley,
Levell'd and trim'd by sweating Mowers hand,
Some Rivolets slide swift, some slowly dally
With the even bosome of the sluced Land.
There Nature wanton was, and the high way
Did seeme inclosed, though it open lay.

4

Pastures in Flora's tapst'rie clad were gay,
With golden eares to pay the Ploughmans fees
Each field shon bright, the scaly Nations play
In flowing cristall, fring'd with wavering trees.
As if Industry joynd with Art so nice
To represent or excell Paradise.

5

But to what end if man was banish'd thence,
Was this Elizian Palace of delight?
What though the West hath gems, th'East Frankincense,
If this feasts not our smell, nor those our sight?
What ere is faire or good was made for use,
And the not use of things is things abuse.

6

No wight durst tread that in-vaine pleasant soyle,
For the adjoyning Thicket and curl'd Grove
Shelter'd a Boar Amyntas hopes did spoile,
Like him that toar from Love-sick Love her Love.
This fate (Woods mutter) he deserv'd, hunting there,
When Venvs would be's Parke, if he her Deere.

7

His jawes with double sword, his back was arm'd
With a set Battaile of Pikes sharpe and brisly,
His crooked tushes slew, not lightly harm'd
What ere he kist with's Urchin snout so grisly.
His foam besnow'd the trampled corn, the fair
Meads he plough'd up, his fume inflam'd the aire.

8

The Rosie-finger'd Morn did there disclose
Her beauty ruddy as a blushing Bride,
Gilding the Marygold, painting the Rose,
With Indian Chrysolites her cheekes were dy'd:
But when this Monster rouz'd him in the vale,
Feare chas'd her blush, and frighted Day look't pale.

9

The Sun durst not see him devoure his Prey,
But peeping through the leaves of Poplars green,
They shak'd; and trembling streames did run away
Groaning, and crowding strove to passe unseen.
Birds, Beasts, yea buzzing Flies petition'd Nature
To stop his breath, or change his ugly feature.

10

This prodigy of Nature and the Wood,
The fields Mower, the Mowers terror, water'd
Parch'd droughty Pastures with a crimson floud,
Then made them white with bones of bodies slaughter'd.
Hardie Therevtvs long'd to see this Beast,
(Fierce as himselfe) come smoaking to a feast.

11

His Hounds by fast made eager of the Prey,
His Javelin whetted sharpe as Crocea Mors,
Clad all in green, as he were Son of May,
He mounts his well-breath'd wind-out-running Horse.
Now like the God that beares the silver Bow,
Encountring with huge Python, did he show.

12

Ere village Cocks (the Labourers shrill Alarms)
Had thrice done Salutation to the morne,
He rouzed Eccho from Narcissus armes,
Instead of Chaunticleer his earely Horn
Call'd Phosphorvs into the milkie way,
And Nights faint shades flew fore his conquering Ray.

13

Aurora blushed to be found in Bed.
The Greenes with Roseall dew did wash their face
'Gainst Sol's uprise; the Howers opened
Heavens folding gates, through which with awfull pace
Bright Titan issued, cloath'd in Tissue gay,
Attended by his spangled Page, the Day.

14

The Aire's all noise, the hot-sent-snuffing Hounds
Awak'd the Terrour with their challenging knell.
In swelling rage the innocent Earth he wounds,
And like three-headed Porter (Swisse) of Hell,
Rush'd forth resolv'd to breake his fast on them
That durst presume so neer his Den to come.

15

As fell Medusa covetous of slaughter
Did drive the waves before his mighty breast,
Shaking his eares above the troubled water,
Disgorging new seas from his monstrous chest,
Extending yawning Jawes: so shew'd this Swine
Fiend-like as he, fierce as the angry Brine.

16

As cowards vaunt ere wreath'd brasse bids the Base,
Bragging they'l shoostrings make of guts of foes,
But when Mars seizeth for Deaths use the place,
And all whom courage rescues not, and blowes,
Then Palsie feare supprize their joynts, which fright
Doth knock together, and make another fight.

17

So th'mungrill currs, erst bold as to defie
The unseen Monster, (so rash is rage) now stand
Afraid to view him with halfe open eye,
Gazing like Armies in the Netherland.
Finding their balefull foe so grim and curst,
They all strain court'sie which should cope him first.

18

When Trumpets loud Tantarra to the fight,
Blowes make bruiz'd Armours Eccho to the noise:
So th'Horne into these Dogges infus'd new sp'rit,
Their mouthes they spend, and are become all voyce.
The airy Queen (sounds child) each yell replies,
As if another chase were in the skies.

19

The merry Horne fill'd with couragious breath,
Proclamed Parley to the woods grim wonder.
He stoutly scorn'd the summons of his Death,
And mockt their challenges with his mouthes thunder.
The busie flies he snarl'd at, and did chase
His owne foule shadow on earths wrinkled face.

20

The Boare his Tuske in many a Dog did sheath,
Their goar, his foam, like blood with milke bespread
(Whilst them he toss'd now over now beneath,
His fangs and head) bepainted all with red
His frothy mouth. The Hounds are at a Bay,
The eager cry still'ith'same place doth stay.

21

Howling with anguish here's a brace of Hounds,
There lay two other dew-bedabbled wretches
Kennel'd in Brakes, licking their venom'd wounds,
Shaking their eares, tatter'd and torne with scratches,
Their stiffe tailes 'gainst the grasse they clap and beat,
And lard the thirsty ground with blood and sweat.

22

When th'Huntsmans voice spoke Terror to the Boar,
Terror the Parasite Eccho said, like him.
When th'churlish Swine Death to the Dogs did roare
Death said the flatterer, like the beast so grim.
As Apes do postures she mock'd every cry,
Thus newters doe with either side comply.

23

The blunt Boar scorning to be kept in mew,
To ly besieg'd by snarling Curs too proud,
Like the Lernean Snake he rouzing shew,
And rush'd through the-in-vaine opposing croud.
Swift as a Roe up to the Hills he flew,
The hot-spur'd Hunters, with full cry pursue.

24

By this the Fountaine of Light low did run,
Inchanting Philomel chanted her Vesper,
The silver erst, now golden (setting) Sun
Trebled each shade; the Owle peep'd out with Hesper.
Green Tethys from her sweaty bed thrust Night,
Expecting there her far more fair delight.

25

All on a sudden Darkeness doubled was,
Flashes and noise the moving Skie distracted,
Boreas sung terrour in a blustry base,
Both Night and Winter in a storm contracted.
Thunder-bolts split the Cedars that aspir'd,
Their blasted tops the nimble Lightning fir'd.

26

The dabled South, ruffe-footed Aquilo,
Came rushing like two Rams whose steeled Horns
Dart fiery sparks and Stars; the Clouds crush'd so
Breath flames: the Air distill'd in rain and storms,
Which suffered no two together stay,
Each, as in ship wrack shift their severall way.

27

No friendly Star or Moon-like Pylots kind
(Oh Fate of Darknesse!) guide them on their way,
The formost curse them that did lag behind,
And they the formost; all ride on and stray.
Their voices all are spent, and they that follow
Can track the first no longer by their hollow.

28

They wander and take Bridges to be Stiles,
When King Therevtvs (from his train aloofe)
In spight of Night and error, spies the whiles,
A small light glimmering in a smoak dri'd roof.
Thither he makes, such straglers as these are,
A Candle weak admire more than a Star.

29

His Highnesse meant not to discover here,
His true estate, and greatnesse of his name,
'Cause he would not affright the Cottager,
But learn what of himself said common fame.
So through his Camp disguis'd went Philips Son,
To hear how opinions Tide on him did run.

30

In this low thatch'd patch'd Graung dwelt Adelin
A swaine whose quiet life honesty compleated,
Of him the wandring unattended King
A homely lodging for that Night entreated,
The poor wight (rich in love and gentle words)
Proffers the best his humble shed affords.

31

Then set he 'fore his Guest (whom he not knew)
Sweet Growte, and Whig, and Flap-jacks of fine meal,
A sheeve of household bread of nut-brown hue,
Cheese white as Milke, nor lack'd there bonney Ale,
Nor Wildings and ripe fruits, which to the eye
Gave pleasing tast ere they the mouth came nigh.

32

The King with unexcited Appetite,
Appeas'd his craving Maw with these plain Cates;
Then did he halfe envy the secure Wight,
With whom of Shepherds easefull lives he chats,
Praising a Cottage 'bove a slippery Court,
To which the Hind replied in such sort.

33

“A Prince that in the Cedars top doth build,
“And scornes the Sun, and dallies with the Wind,
“Only a Title hath his care to gild,
“His gay robe's lined with a restlesse mind.
“They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
“And falling from on high, the more they break them.

34

“The more we graspe the Waves the lesse we hold:
“So who seekes ease in greatnesse, ease him flies.
“Just as the Persians did by slaves of old,
“Fate doth by Kings, Crown them for Sacrifice.
“Glories, like Glow-wormes, a far off shine bright,
“But look'd to neer have neither heat nor light.

35

“The Court is Fortunes cheating Lottery,
“Where places are like to the Beds that fill
“An Hospitall, where this mans head doth lie
“At that mans feet, so lower and lower still.
“When a Star glides (we say) a Child is born,
“So this Lard mounts when that slips into scorne.

36

“Souldiers, whose prize is praise, and Trophies skars,
“When they through new red seas for many a year
“Have swam to glory, become Astronomers,
“And Almanacks in their dry bones they bear;
“Or they turn Geometricians, and so
“Practice their Art on crutches as they go.

37

“Tough pale-fac'd study bookish men doth pine,
“This is that Vulture which Promethevs tore;
“Merchants that dwell with Fish in the blew brine,
“Oft lose their lives seeking t'increase their store;
“The toyling Craftsman drinketh his own sweat,
“And out hard iron hammereth his meat.

38

“Content the Shepherds Cottage onely fills,
“With th'earely Sun he doth his Flock unfold,
“And all day long on easie climbing Hills
“Or flowrie Plaines he merry chat can hold,
“Or indite Sonnets in an amorous vein,
“And with the setting Sun he folds again.

39

“Then jogging home he turnes a Crab, or else
“He tunes a round, or sings some chearly rime,
“Or on the tongs he counterfeits the Bells,
“Nor lacks he gleefull tales to cheat slow time.
“There sits he, and whilst round the bowle doth trot,
“Sings care away, till he to bed hath got.

40

“There sleepes he found, forgetting morrowes cares,
“Ne stormes, ne frayes, ne crack of credit lost,
“Ne blasts he feares, nor uttering of his wares,
“Nor franklier spends than's Flock defrayes the cost.
“Swains sleep and make more quiet nights and daies
“Than their great care-bit Lords, whose herds they graze

41

“Low set and richly warme, our Proverb wot,
“Dangers o'r fly us, mischiefes hit the high,
“Content's the Crown, this is the Shepherds lot;
“A King is but a Man, and so am I.
“Not to compare, I would not change my place,
“With great Therevtvs, Heaven shield his Grace.

42

Now leaden sleep 'gan weigh their eye-lids down,
The Lamp with darknesse strove, being almost spent:
When th'weary King (half out of love with's Crown)
Unto a cleanly, though scarce soft, Bed went,
Sleep is not tied to softnesse, more soundly
Hinds rest than they that in downe smother'd lie.

43

When slumber had shut in, and Morphevs bar'd
The windowes of his soule, and lock'd out care,
I'th silent time of night a voice he heard
As from above, calling to Him Fear, Fear.
Lost in amazement did he then uprise
Frighted, as Soldiers taken in supprize.

44

As did Dametas when Pamela fled,
He struts about the room with hair upright:
And cries, who calleth, but is answered
Only by Eccho, and the Bird of Night.
Then takes he's Bed again, and this fright numbers
Amongst the mockries of unquiet slumbers.

45

The next voice touch'd his Organ was Yeeld, Yeeld.
Then wak'd in's mind a thought of trechery.
Amidst these sweaty doubtings he beheld
The Genius of the Graunge before his eye,
Crown'd with such Chaplets as adorne a Wake:
Bowing his Cornu-copiæ, thus he spake.

Mighty Souveraigne

I am come
“From the blest Lalarium,
“The seat of the Household Gods,
“Where th'Lares have their quiet abodes,

“To tell thee 'tis the Thunderers will,
“Thou call'st to mind his Oracle,
“Which when thou asked'st who should be
“Thy Successor, thus answerd thee.

The Oracle.

“When a Lamp shall be thy Star,
“And thou both King and Cottager,
“And when thou to Bed shalt go
“Twice in one night, then shalt thou know.

The Resolution.

“This is the Time, the Lamp whose light
“Brought thee hither, thy Star I hight.
“Whilst here thou dwel'st with Adeling,
“Th'art Cottager as well as King.
“You left, and took again, this Night
“Your Bed, being seiz'd and rid of fright.

“Know then, Great, and as good, King,
“Aplote daughter of Adeling
“This night has borne a smiling Boy,
“The Gransires hope, the Mothers joy,
“The Heire by his Nativity
“To Natures wealth, Fates Poverty.
“But Fortune meanes in him to show
“How great she can from meannesse grow.
“Architects low foundations lie,
“When they intend the building high.

“See! how the spangles of the Night
“Doe sparkle with unusuall light,
“Heaven puts his cloudy tresses by,
“And smiles on him with open skie,
“Whilst all the Planets seem to throw
“Their Golden radience at his brow,
“Which by reflection Divine
“Shall thence upon his Subjects shine.
“Th'Imperiall Thunderer, with her
“That Crownes ad placitum confer,
“Have sworn by the salt Stygian Floods,
“That glide through the darke Midnight Woods,
“That Hee, and his redoubted race,
“(Whose Acts shall break Fames wind to blaze)
“Shall wear (thee dead) thy Diadem,
“And adde more Lustre to the Jem.
“Seek not to cross Fate, lest (wave like)
“You break upon the Rock you strike.
“Strive not against the stream. Alas!
“Who spits at Heaven, spits in's own face.

46

The Genius vanished, Thereutus laid,
In a mixt Passion betwixt feare and hate.
No sleep he saw with's prickling eyes, which straid
On objects of his fall, his Heiers state.
Soft sleep requires of thoughts a vacancy,
Shee dwels in Tityrvs's not Tiberivs eye.

47

By this the Quiristers o'th' Wood did shake
Their wings, and sing to the bright Suns uprise,
Whose new embroaderie did gild and make
Rich houses tops, and leaves of whistlings Trees.
Modest morn blush'd 'cause Sol saw'r rise from Bed,
As Lieer had her cheekes with Claret spred.

48

The King descending said. “Come Envie, come,
“Here will be subject for thy pin'd snakes; hurle
“About this Brats neck evry loving worm
“In clinging foulds, till I bid them uncurle
“And break their knots, and shoot at length, and hide
“Their keen trifork't stings in his malic'd side.

49

Then with a smoothed Front he bad good Day,
And happy Omens to old Adeling,
Asking, “What noise was that chas'd sleep away,
“Sounding like cries of women travelling?
Quoth th'Hind, “I hope in good time my desire
“This night has crown'd and made me a Grandsire.

50

May thy joyes grow with's yeares, said the great Guest,
And ask'd the Swain on's hopes young pledge to look;
In swadling bands the Babe he brought forth drest,
Whom in his Royall armes the Monarch took,
So flattering Juno hugg'd poor Semele
I'th' likenesse of her Nurse old Beroe.

51

Whilst here (with Sinon-like imbrace) he hold
The tender Child, the Cottage black Cat ran
Betwixt his legs, and mew'd, whereat (hee fil'd
With deep sense of the Prodigie) waxt wan,
Knowing such was an Omen of the fall
Of great SEIANUS Fortvnes Tennis-Ball.

52

But thinking his state 'bove chance, as his sp'rit
He call'd home Man, and did himself regain,
“And ask'd his Host if he knew who that night
“Had been his Guest? A friend, I hope, (quoth th'Swain)
“Whom I desire what use you here do find,
“To measure not by 'ts own worth, but my mind.

53

“How much are we a Captive to thy Love?
“(The Prince repli'd,) which we with wealth and style
“Will guerdon. Know who did thy kindnesse prove
“Is the Imperiall Monarch of this Isle,
“Therevtvs, who thy humble Shed will raise
To greatnes crown'd with wreaths of Oak and Bayes.

54

“Nay use thy legs, (the wight die kneel and shake,)
“Since we thy Guest were when this Bird broke forth
“The shell (his first Cage) tis our will to take
“Him to our Court (the forge of States and worth)
“There (if vice checks not) will we him advance
“'Bove Envies sting, or griping reach of chance.

55

“Baptize him Tvchesphaira, but this make
“Thy Province, with maternall Love and Fear
“To foster him, our selfe will send and take
“Him to the tutele of our Royall care,
“Ere twice Times measurer, the Nimble Sun,
“Hath made the Toure of Heaven, and his race run.

56

Lest Fairies should put him among their rapes,
He mark'd him with his signet on the front,
So pliable's the Virgin wax of Babes
To take what figure you please stamp upon't.
Here's a poor Sheep for th'shambles mark'd, and hate;
Thus doth man purpose, but dispose doth Fate.

57

A Troop of Courtiers shining bright and gay,
Broad-ey'd in quest of the last-night-lost King
(By diligent scrutiny being led this way)
Here found him, mingling breath with Adeling.
He mounted (guarded so) with Jove-like port,
His course for to direct to his longing Court.

58

But making to an Elme of cleanly growth,
Whereon he (lest thereby betraid should be
To his Hosts knowledge his great state and worth)
Had hung his Crown, slifted from the chast Tree;
Which (like a Charm) 'gainst Thunder fenc'd his head,
He found one half of't withered and dead.

59

A Prodigie able to have seiz'd the sense,
And routed all powers of a mortall breast.
But he (of Passions, well as men, a Prince)
Soon gather'd up himself, and them supprest.
And since game's Heleborum, he once more,
To chase sad thoughts away, would chase the Boar.

60

The jolly Horn did chafe the blunt Beasts ears,
And with loud accents lent the Woods a voice.
He, whose tough brawny sides were proofe 'gainst spears,
Eccho'd the jangling pack with as great noise.
The game is rouz'd, the Fiend from's Cabin springs,
Pursuit like lightning puts on Eagles wings.

61

The Swine unto a Bay was soon brought, since
The last daies labour being stiffe and soar,
The Hounds beleager'd him, and the brave Prince
With's Javelins point his churlish breast did gore.
He, wounded, howles, The Huntsmen fill the skies
With's many holla's, as the brute with cries.

62

Even as a ravenous red-bearded Pack
Of Serjants, hale (with taunts) a poor Bankrouter,
Some drawing on, some thrusting at his back,
To one 'oth'City Pounds, the killing Compter:
The Dogs seiz'd so, behind some, some before,
Wounded and drag'd along the gasping Boar.

63

See of a Tyrans death an Emblem fair!
The grim Swines head (even dreadfull although kil'd)
Fixt on a Pole was carried in the air.
Thousands whose smiling mouths glad Peans fil'd,
To meet the Conquerer, came out the Citty,
His Paths with boughs they fil'd, his eares with Ditty.