Pocula Castalia The Authors Motto. Fortunes Tennis-Ball. Eliza. Poems. Epigrams. &c. By R. B. [i.e Robert Baron] |
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64
Now Muse to reach the Forest put on wing,There taste the Rose, and suck in subtlier air,
And visit Tvchesphaira, who (fond thing)
Thou shalt please better with a Plumb or Pear
Than lifts of's honours upon honours ply'd,
I'th morn a Poet's aptest, not a Child.
65
Much of Mans sand through times wide glasse does run,Many of his freshest yeers do periods know.
A long part of his Lives short web is spun
E'r he considers what he's borne to doe.
'Fore he begins his task, or knows what't was,
Much time he had to do it in, doth passe.
66
When Phoebvs Race-nags almost twice had runThrough the round Zodiac their full careere,
His toung-strings 'gan to loose, and he begun
To lispe argologies. In a whole year
Though reason rears her Tribunall up in Man,
He cannot shew't so much as Parets can.
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67
Now, now began he to be like himselfe,With purile vigour Mars, with forinitie
Venvs, Combin'd t'adorn th'dapper Elve,
Doubtlesse two Starres which glided from the skie
Have lighted in his beamy eyes, and there
Set fixt as in their high Olympick Sphere.
68
Fair Cloris pluck't her Lillies, and bespredTheir silver wealth upon his brow so sleek,
His skin with Violets she enamelled,
And planted a fresh Rose on either cheek,
Where Nature painted them with fairer blush
Than ere they knew upon their Thorny bush.
54
Corn crowned Ceres with a golden cropUberiously his flourishing head hath grac'd,
Whereof each sprig is ripe and bows the top.
Courteous Pomona on his plump lips plac'd
Too early blushing Cherries, where they be
Far more inviting than upon the Tree.
55
Did you not hear his Lallation, nor seeHim trip about like Mab, you'd think he were
(As Abantiades did Andromede)
Marmoreum opus, or some Statue rare
Carv'd out of Virgin wax, or Ivory pure,
Which had it wings would seem an Angel sure.
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71
Now did he find his feet and gin to moveUpon a wheele of danger, were it not
Restraind, each thing an Atropos would prove
His web to clip ere scarce to th'Rock it got,
Or fatall Axe this new sprung spray to fell,
Or Sextons hand to toule his passing Bell.
27
But from the Court his good and evill sprung,There th'King chose out two Lords whom he much lov'd
Men of sound Fame Cicilians among,
Whose truths oft true as Truth its self had prov'd.
To these he trusted all the former story,
Adding thereto this cruell Mandatory.
73
“Hast to the Grange, there with perfumed words“Demand the Infant in our Royall Name,
“Then dig his side with your remorcelesse swords.
“And bear to us the entrailes of the same.
“We would not slay if we could safely save,
“Yet than a Throne tis cheaper' give a grave.
74
“But seale your lips up, and be sons of night“And silence, if you have (which I not fear)
“A chinck in you, through which this peeps to light,
“Our reputation deeply wounded were,
“You die like snuffe and stink, our selfly under
“The lash of Censure, and tongues brutish Thunder.
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75
The Lords repli'd, “Fate Love us as we lock“This secret deep from Day and peering foes,
“Firm shall our Faiths stand as the Pirean Rock.
“Be it your care to see what you impose,
“Our Duty's to obey. Bright Cicil's Sun
“You are a God, and your high will be done.
76
Just as the King Decreed the Babe to slay,The Sea burst forth, and bellowing rag'd along,
And half the City Thindaris bore away.
“So just is Heaven t'avenge the guiltlesse wrong.
The Brine too in the haven turn'd fresh and sweet,
As once before, when Denis lost his seat.
77
The Nobles hasted to the Swaine, so freeFrom the loud Tumult and the roar of state,
Of him the Infant they demanded; Hee
(Making each flowing eye wet griefes floudgate)
Deliverd him fraught with a thousand blisses,
Seal'd with as many ceremonious kisses.
78
Homewards they took their way, and by and byTheir bounding steeds they checked, having reacht
A bushie Grove, pricking the lookers eye,
As if the Thornes them teares and pitty teacht,
And shak't their armes, as if they'd let them know
They meant to scratch them if they gave the blow.
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79
The Lords to execute the Kings commandEmptied the sheath of the sharp threatning skive,
For which the silly babe reacht forth his hand,
Thrice touch'd and rac'd his tender skin the knife,
And thrice his smiles drew forth their teares; once more
They did begin and ended as before.
80
“Betide us Life or Death, live still (at least“For us) they said, and so threw down the blade.
“Herein shall we obey our Soveraigne best
“That he by our hand is not guilty made.
“Who serves his Prince in what is judg'd unjust
“By his own Law, serves not his power, but Lust.
81
But 'cause the Monarch charged them to bringHis entrailes, they a young Pig slew with hast,
Resolv'd to bear his inwards to the King,
Since every Man within is like this Beast.
And some without, whom malice and strong Wine
Make churlish as a Hog, drunk as a Swine.
82
Since by a Wolfe Romes Founders suckled were,Great Cyrvs by a Bitch rob'd of her young,
Troy's fire-brand, hot Paris, by a Beare,
Jove by a Goat the swelling hills among,
For this poor Innocent were there hopes as good
If left to the wild Nurses of the Wood.
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83
In an old hollow Oke, whose top a SwarmeOf Bees (the Muses Birds) had made their hive
They left the Child, with Gold, and 'bout his arm
Bracelets of Jems whose shine with's eyes did strive.
These their Loves gave, that who so him should find
Might be, if not for Loves, for wealths sake kind.
84
The Lords then to the King did spur on hast(Whose every thought 'bout their success did wake,)
Shaking with scorn the entrailes of the Beast,
Entring the Presence, thus they silence brake.
“Live Great Therevtvs, behold here all that
“The Wild Beasts teeth, have left of yonder brat.
85
The King with Jvy armes his Lords embrac't,(Who had made purchase of his Love for ever)
With looks for scorn fit, into fire he cast
The Pigs (he thought the Infants) Heart and Liver,
Saying, “Now Dreames are lies, the Delphic Rood
“A trunk of Fables, at best common wood.
86
In the wild Desart Tvchesphaira laidWhom the Bees fed with their Ambrosiall sweat,
Whilst with them, as with Birds, he (fearelesse) plaid,
Th'infected Animalls their stings forgat.
The Woods plum'd Quiristers forsook their neasts
To charme him with the wonder of their breasts.
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87
A full dug'd Hind came, and her milkie teatGave to the lips of this poor out-cast creature,
As 'twere his mothers breast he suck'd thereat.
Reader, think not this story crosseth Nature,
But read on, and you'l say, in this the Hind
Was to her selfe, as well as to him, kind.
88
The fruit o'th' Hind (thus Nature wills) swels soIn her straight womb she ne'r could bring it forth,
If Jove did not his Queens task undergo,
And (playing th'Midwife) helpe it to the birth.
He tears the skies with thunder, which doth fright
Her into Travell, and her young to light.
89
The Fawne (well grown allready) soon forsakesTh'pleasure o'th'teat for that of Liberty.
The Dam pain'd with much Milk, which bulks and akes
In her stiffe Dugs, oft succles willingly
Creatures of different Species to ease her,
Why might not he, as well as Beasts, then please her.
90
Evstachvs, one o'th Kings grave Counsellours,(A Person both of Blood and Honour stockt
In a long race of vertuous Ancestours)
His mind, with deep Idea's tir'd, unlockt,
And with delight to sweeten his State eare,
O'th'Woods side gat on foot the purblind Hare.
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91
The Dogs were at a fault, and flockt aboutSnuffing and fawning on the Infants Tree,
Which made the Patriot (thinking they smelt out
Some willy Fox there earth'd), ride up to see,
Where, on his back, the smiling Boy he found
Sucking the Hind, and stroaking of a Hound.
92
'Cause with rich Jems and Gold so bright be shonThe Lord of Parentage right Noble deem'd him,
And bore him thence; Lacking himself a Son,
He fostered, and as his own esteem'd him.
Who prov'd (as he of Time had got the start)
The Early Miracle of Armes and Art.
93
But here the Reader is to be advis'd,That when this Youth found in the Forest was,
Evstachvs (Ignorant he was baptiz'd
Before he found him) nam'd him Ulorvs,
The which name he must bear, till my Muse can
I'th' Songs close, call him Tvchesphair agen.
94
Therevtvs when bald time upon his wingHad stoln his fiftieth Yeer for a Jub'le
Revoked exiles from pale wandering,
Pardon'd State Cankers and set Captives free,
And sham'd Darivs in a solemne Feast,
To which each man of name was call'd a Guest.
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95
Tilting the Day, masquing the Night chac't thence,Perfumes did raise sweet Mists in every room
To keep the air in awe of the nice sense,
Attalick garments cloath'd each swaggering Groom,
Rich Tyrian Arras evry Wall, hung round
With meddalls in old Gaule or Carthage found.
96
Scorning (there ord'nary) Corinthian PlateMen quaft in Stone at dearer prices sold,
At Jvory tables, or wood of higher rate
They eat, on quilted Beds of Silk and Gold.
Their wanton tasts had onely in request
Newest and rarest things, though not the best.
97
The feather'd River Phasis could not yeeldThem Fowle enow, nor Oysters Lucrine Lake,
They spring each Thicket, Fowle each bush and Field,
All seas they draw, all Ponds in nets they take,
Circes too (Natures Larder) do they seek
To please the witty gluttony of a week.
98
Lachrymæ Christi flow'd down, and the bloodOf Tuscan Grapes swel'd high each joviall mind.
Had Nature lost her Species, air her brood,
Water her spawn, here might they seek, and find.
Apitivs a Carthusian was to these,
And Æsope's Platter a poor Scholars messe.
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99
The Pallace crackt with weight of thronging GuestsAs Theaters when som fine sock is on,
Evstachvs there was seen among the rest,
And with him Vlorvs, his reputed Son.
Who now wrot man, and full of hopes most high,
Assum'd the vesture of virility.
100
In Comvs's heat and Pride the glorious KingViewing the young man with a setled eye,
Through his loose hair the print of his seal Ring
Spi'd on his front; this dash't his jollity.
This marke, a mole, his Phisnomy assur'd him
'Twas he 'gainst whom he thought death had secur'd him.
101
His mirths spred wings were clipt, the pale desireOf revenge seiz'd him, with hot fury stockt,
But that which swell'd his floud of Passion higher,
Was, that the Lords by whom he was so mockt,
Full of grand Honours, wounds, and daies, were dead,
And with wet Elegies their Hearses spread.
102
Rufling his brow, biting his lip he satWaking all forces of his phantasie
To guide his wrath: being observ'd, this fit
He call'd a spice of an old Lethargie.
Then rallying his wiser thoughts, he spake thus
Unto the good (thats more than great) Evstachvs;
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103
“How happy are you in a Son (my Lord)“So rich in Natures store and Arts best things;
“Only you ought not so great wealth to hoard,
“Jems shine not in the Quarry, but in Rings.
“Leave him with us at Court, so shall he seem
“Engloried by the Place, the Place by him.
104
Evstachvs; covetous of so good hapGave to the King his Vlorvs much lov'd:
Who, as if he upon some Courtly lap
Had alwaies slept a formall Courtling prov'd.
His mouth the mint of complement, and he
The very Tyrant in bare courtesie.
105
His phrase, and gests were followed and allow'd,So full of Man his evry Act was showne.
And (which was chiefe) not borrowed it shew'd,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seem'd as proper, and as naturall
As breath with life, or light with radient Sol.
106
Which is the soul of Courtship, he becameThe Marigold of every Ladies shine,
Teaching each beauty t'give and take a flame,
Approaching it in its own height and Line.
All Ladies with one Luer caught are not,
No more than all Birds are with one bait got.
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107
The proud he tickeled with praise of theirs,Dispraise of others Beauties, modes, and dresses.
The witty with Romants he pleas'd and verse,
Th'amourous with Love Legends mixt with kisses.
And flourishing still in the Spring o'th' Fashion,
He got a credit beyond admiration.
108
But now, Heaven moved by the late excesse,Or by Therevtvs Tyrannous intent,
Hot painted feavours clad in spotted dresse
(Plagues Harbingers) 'mong the Sicilians sent,
And (no auspicious Omen) in each field
Sholes of hoars Ravens unwonted musters held.
109
Then envious Stars shot poyson from their Sphere,Or Earth from the dark Dungeon belch't it forth,
Or angry winds did puffe it through the aire.
That th'Isle one Pesthouse made, one grave the Earth.
O Dismall Argument! black subject! where
All comma's sighs should be! each point a Tear!
110
The sweeping Plague's begun; some fall, all fear,As when i'th' Night fires are discovered.
Fates (as if vext they meant to blunt their sheares)
Warps by whole hanfulls cut, not threed by threed.
Mortall Abaddon with keen sickle hovers,
Flesh like Grasse mowing, making few Passeovers.
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111
Think but how fast at evry puffe of windFrom Trees the mellow leaves in Autume glide,
I'th' steps of Cattell some interment find
Some on the wings of wanton briefes ride:
So in this busie Terme of Death folk dy'd
Faster than those alive could graves provide.
112
No Songs, but Dirges, fill'd the infected air,No Musick but the Bells sad Knells is heard.
Pebles which erst much peoples feet did wear
And pollish, now, with grasse oregrown, Churchyard
Rather than street seem; along which there wave
Black Beers, that strive wch first should reach the grave.
113
Churchyards so delv'd and harrow'd are, none nowAs type of Resurrection Grasse affords
This death (a Schismatick) will not allow
Of Ceremony, Men on slings and boards
Uncovered are posted to the grave,
Which, although free Land, none may single have.
114
That best of Nature, Neighberhood, was gon,With hateles treason, friends by friends breath dy'd.
They're safest who like salvage live alone,
And although debtlesse, from this Serjant hide.
No help is left but all helpe to forgo,
To joyn their forces were t'augment their foe.
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115
For Deaths use seized are all naked streets,Which who so dares adventure to passe by,
A presse of thronged Funeralls he meets,
And People that their lofty Mansions fly.
Daring to dying sheds their lives commit,
Which each blast shakes into a Palsie fit.
116
Each carkase of a Grange hath Guests, some hideIn vacant Windmills, some in tented Boat
On watry floores, rock'd by the tumbling tide
With their sick houshould at dead Anchor flote.
Yea who no tilt could hope but open skies
Dare home forsake, so Sicil Sicil flies.
117
Palermo differ'd from Palermo soAs doth a Tree which erst did blow and bear,
But naked in December stands, like to
A Skelleton, ratling its bones all bare.
Such solitude as this i'th' waxen Town
Appeares when th'winged hony Host is flown.
118
As prudent mice fromsfalling roofes make hast,And thence to sounder walls for shelter flee:
So from sick Sicilie her brood flock't fast
To neighbouring Isles, as Cæne and Strongile,
Now with like luck as when two Suns appeare
'tk'clouded skie, two Sicilies there were.
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119
Therevtvs selfe from's royall place retir'dTo's Tusculanium in the Countrey,
Not built to envious show but health desir'd,
And to th'adjacent Islles Æoliæ,
(Where Æolus his Throne of old was seen)
He sent his onely Daughter and great Queen.
120
The Queen Hymetta, whose each part a storyOf Beauty was, 'bove wonder far renown'd,
Of her fair fex she the faire Crown and Glory,
Who yet all these straines in her vertues drown'd.
But her chiefe Elogie (to veile all other)
Is this, she was the rare Rosella's Mother.
121
Sosella, without whom the Court was dark,Fresh morn her handmaid was, and Roses strew
About Loves Hemisphere; each heavenly spark
Wheg she arose, ecclipz'd, and sad withdrew
For shame to be out-shin'd by her bright eyes,
Who, more than they the Earth, did gild the skies.
122
Old Jvno, seeing a new let her plumes fall,The Graces wondred at themselves to see
They'd fram'd a Grace that far surpast them all,
And had exhausted quite their Treasury
To shame themselves by one, on whose each part
Fame might spend all her voice, Verse all her Art.
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123
She was of Goddesses a Rapsodie,Boasting Avrora's rosie fingers small,
Satvrnia's stately front, Pallas grey eye,
Venvs her dimpled chin, and Beauties All.
Of Ceres Daughter the life-wasting wast,
And Gorgons curled hair, before it hist.
124
She was the onely Loadstone of all Eyes,She was the onely Touchstone of all Hearts,
The Whetstone of all braines and Phantasies,
Making each Freshman Master in Loves Arts.
She chew'd with Studs of Pearle, with Rubies kist,
She look'd with diamonds rescuing Day from Mist.
125
This Saint and Angell both did harbour giveTo as much winning beauty as could die,
And to more heavenly vertues than doe live,
Which in her blest Urne I'l let quiet lie,
Lest all to whom such Miracles are told,
Or turne Idolaters, or think her old.
126
A Venvs and Diana mixt in oneShe was, whose wit was even in greenest yeers
Flowing as Nectar, ripe as Autumn showne,
And crown'd with graces envy'd by white haires:
Which who can tell? and yet who cannot tell?
Well may I praise her, but not praise her well.
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127
To do it meanely were no lesse disgrace,Than a course garment to a Princely Dame,
Or homely painting to a lovely face,
Or a brasse setting to a precious Gemme.
Think not weak Muse by thy low Song to raise her
Tis praise enough that none enough can praise her.
128
Here of this wonder of nice Natures sweatTaking my Leave, I am for Sicilie
Imbark'd, from whence Phoebvs withdrew his heat
And fled, as he too fear'd the Malady.
Winter the Isle shut up in icie bars
As close as sicknesse did the Islanders.
129
With the years heat (Plagues nurse) the Plague outwore,The mortall Angell sheath'd his Sword, the street
Put off its mossie mantle, and once more
Began a new acquaintance with mens feet.
Still Piles are built and blaze, still Bells loud call,
But for devotion more than Buriall.
130
All aske what frends Heavens Besom swept away,And who is left. All gape for fresher air,
And like Stags snuffing 'bout the Fields they stray;
So Fishes stifled with long ice repair
Unto the hole, when as the Leatherine Hine
With Axes break the frost to water kine.
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131
Now men with health (as Swallowes with the Spring)Again to their dear Mothers Bosome run,
Once more Palermo the desired King
Blest with his Presence, shewing like the Sun
Scattering th'Egyptians long loath'd Night away,
Or out black Chaos striking Christall Day.
132
He seeing admired Vlorvs becomeThe tenth Sphere of the Court, drawing all after him,
And daily triumphing ore the Hearts of some:
Griev'd that the fatall Angell spar'd do slaughter him,
He sate in Councell with his thoughts, at strife
How to remove his fear, the youngmans life.
133
His busie braine was like an Howerglasse,Wherein Imaginations like sands ran
Filling up hasty time, but then (Alas!)
Were turn'd and turn'd and ended as began,
So that he knew not what to stay upon,
And lesse to Crown with execution.
134
To thrust him out of life sans processe, wereTo blot himselfe out of the Rolls of Fame,
To send him to the wars, in hope that there
Quick death might find him, were t'augment his Fame.
A Hero lockt in brasse will force all breath
To chant his Trophees brave, or braver Death.
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135
Taking the wisest counsell of his brain,At last Invention prompted a course to him
For which he hug'd his wit and cruel veine,
And this was mask'd in friendship to undo him.
Malice in Love disguiz'd was in all time
Most safe and common held, yet is't a crime.
136
So poysonous Snakes in Roses ly in wait,And lurke in honny-dropping Grasse to sting.
So the Hyenna murders by deceit.
So from the Rocks th'alluring Syrens sing,
And call down the high notes of the sweet Spherse
Before they prey, to fill the wretches eares.
137
The Senat of his thoughts decreed to sendThe Young Man to the Queen t'Æoliæ
With secret Letters; feigning as a Friend
The honouring of him with the Embassie,
Which was, that as soon as he should await her
She privily execute him for a Traytor.
138
To paper he this Mandate did commit,And with his Seal enjoyn'd it secrecy.
Then charg'd his Favorit Ulorvs with it
Unto his Queen on hasts spred wings to flie.
From David so, to Joab once before
Uriah his one fatall sentence bore.
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139
The Favourite (proud of the employment) rodeAttended with no long yet trusty train
To the next Port, his vent'rous foot there trod
Upon the rude throat of the scalding Main.
Favonivs and Thetis mixt in one
To blesse him with kind Transfretation.
140
About the Noon of Night he reach't the shore,And took up's quarters in a common Inne,
Where (partly, 'cause for manners sake, before
The Sun had, he would not salute the Queen.
Partly to compose his Sea shuffled head)
He made his cloaths poor to make rich his Bed.
141
One of his Traine (having Athenian earsItching for news) much longing to descry
His Lords quick message, when the band of cares
Soft sleep had seiz'd him and his company,
He crept into his Chamber in the dark,
And stole his Packet thence, whilst none did mark.
142
Being no Novice in that knavish trickOf ripping Seales, and closing them again,
(A Burglary baser than locks to pick;
For that robs but our coffers, this our braine,)
Not dar'd by's Kings dumb face, he opened
Nicely his Royall Packet, and thus read.
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