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The poems of George Daniel

... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes

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Idyll 4.

Nor wonder, if the loud Prærogative
Scatter our Dust, & licke our Sweat, to Live
With the Same Innocence, as Fishes Mudde;
Land-Cormorants may Challeng them for food;
Who Grasse to Lions? or Slaine Bullocks fling's

225

To Camells? ye whole world, through severall Things
Eats her selfe vp; the Estrich, may digest
A Broken Rocke, & on a Plough-Share feast;
Some, Eate ye fruits & some the Iuyce of Earth
Whose quicke returnes, bring second Fodders forth;
Fatted, to feed themselves; Arabia, yeilds
Noe Wonder, in her Bird, (if true) wch builds
Her funerall Pile, her Cradle; the world, weake
Reveiues her Selfe, & what the Ancients Speake
From the first Symbole, Traditorie Truth
Is soe indeed; if we observe the Growth
And decay of Things, the world is All
One Phœnix; & makes new originall
From her owne Ashes; as she one Day must
Start from one flame, new & refinéd Dust,
She now, in parcells, Dictates to her Earth
The Transmigration of an entire Birth;
Therfore I must Correct my Selfe, to know
Man, but a Feather; if he fall, or grow,
'Tis but observéd, till another Coat
Gives a new wing; & weare the Eye-sore out;
'Tis but a mewing Time; what matter if
Cold Gorges crampe the feet? Our Eyeass Life
Complaines vnpittied; we're indeed soe Dull
In the Nest-Gutt, wee Crye fasting & full;
Though Tyrranny, (big-Swolne, in all formes,
Vulture or Moll) doe Swoop, or hunt out wormes.
Men borne for bondage; 'tis not in our Choice

226

How wee shall Bleed; if Blood be made ye Price;
And 'tis as easie Smart, to give that Breath
In Ayre, as Earth; resolv'd a certaine Death:
For Kings act open-fac'd, but what of late
Wee See pursued, vnder the Masque of State;
Where fatted fellow-creepers, Dig new Seams
And catch it, warme-lay'd, delvinge ye extreames
Of the darke Centre, wth an Eager Foot;
And wee are Strangled ere our Neighbours know 't.
This yet I'de rather Shun, might I but creepe
To breath in Royall Ayre, then Dye soe Deepe.
But nothing bootes my fancy, when I Span
My Selfe to Iudgment, in the Circle Man:
(And over-toil'd Affections, wounded Send
To Reason, at his need, my nearest freind;)
I boldly looke on Either, and refuse
Neither, but comply to the Genius
Directs all forme; I can as well keep bare
To a Cotton-Bench, as to a Velvet-Chaire;
'Tis all one to my Ease, to all the Right
I claime in Man; to all the Benefitt
Of Fortune; (if my former Errors had
Not lodg'd mee (they malignant Say, I) Madd;
For Sideing is a madnes, where the Hand
Acts to a Somewhat, we but vnderstand
In the Relations,) if the Essence be
Resolvéd through, in the necessitie.
I know noe Argument in Reason Springs
T'oppose the forme, by Cōmonwealths, or Kings;

227

Nor is 't a Sickly bending in the Blood
But a firme Truth, to what I've vnderstood
From the whole question; wch ill-stated, Swaies
Vs to our owne Affections Severall waies;
But to the Eye of Reason, (if wee must
Live vnder Power) all Power is Equall Iust.
Man is a kind of Sea-weed (if we may
Run to the Simile, the World, a Sea;)
Wee lye weake Spriggs, wch vpon water floate;
Osyers, in Ayre, but Corrall at the Root;
Empire low-firm'd, a Plant congeal'd, a Rocke
Torne vp, a Babble, or a whistle-Stalke;
The large Amphibion now resolv'd is hung;
To make proud females was our wonder long.
Empire & State, the formes of Government,
The Originall of Power, & the Discent,
Are now but Easie Problemes; a Discourse
For vnconcernéd Woemen; or what's worse
Taught Children quarrell Crown's; & can declaime
Power, wth their Spoone-meat, vnder any Name;
Can tumble Iunius Brutus, & conferre
The Phillipicks, with all our moderne Stirre;
And can name Oligarchy, wth more Ease
Then a Loome-flitter, can Church Hierarchies;
Such Definitions wth their Milke; & prove
Authority, to what their Mothers Love;
And See the Reason, ere they well can prate;
Who Rules the House, to Them governs ye State.

228

For my owne part, I love a Woeman Witt
As a Tam'd Hare, that Strikes a Drūming fitt;
Or the cag'd Squirrell, wth a Iing of Bells;
Mechanicke Entertaine! & the face Sells
Sometimes at better Rate, where they can top
The Cōmers; wth the Tangle of the Shop;
But whither Toothéd, run I, in mistake?
May the Sex live long flatter'd, for his Sake;
Who put the Witt vpon 'em, for a Boast,
And got his End, Such Labour, never Lost.
Draw out ye Scheme; take ye Ascendent right,
Iupiter; Venus lost, vnto our Sight;
And then read on; wee've whirl'd the Pin of State
Fraile Axis; & See Power, not Constellate;
Cæsar, (noe starre within our Region knowne,
Trust in a knott, of Tullie's mourning Gowne)
Is but a Wild-fire, to wast Senate Raggs,
And silence Cato, whose too bitter braggs
Of Libertie, Chain'd others, in the Quest,
And lost his owne; by a new Power opprest.
The Slumbers of our Age, (if we could tell
Them out, broad-wakeing), ancient Dreams reveale;
If Life be little more, 'tis fond expence
To hang vp State, fring'd with a Reverence
For better Curtains; & wrought Pillow's bring
Pownc'd Law, Stitched Cōmon-wealth, & purled King;
More trouble to our Rest, lye downe & Sleepe
The Folly out, wch others Laugh, or Weepe.