The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley

Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed: And Those which he Design'd for the Press, Now Published out of the Authors Original Copies ... The Text Edited by A. R. Waller

Cowley, Abraham (1618-1667)

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402

Verses written on several occasions.

CHRISTS PASSION

[_]

Taken out of a Greek Ode, written by Mr. Masters of New College in Oxford.

1.

Enough, my Muse, of Earthly things,
And inspirations but of wind,
Take up thy Lute, and to it bind
Loud and everlasting strings;
And on 'em play, and to 'em sing,
The happy mournful stories,
The Lamentable glories,
Of the great Crucified King.
Mountainous heap of wonders! which do'st rise
Till Earth thou joynest with the Skies!
Too large at bottom, and at top too high,
To be half seen by mortal eye.
How shall I grasp this boundless thing?
What shall I play? what shall I sing?
I'll sing the Mighty riddle of mysterious love,
Which neither wretched men below, nor blessed Spirits above
With all their Comments can explain;
How all the whole Worlds Life to die did not disdain.

2.

I'll sing the Searchless depths of the Compassion Divine,
The depths unfathom'd yet
By reasons Plummet, and the line of Wit,
Too light the Plummet, and too short the line,
How the Eternal Father did bestow
His own Eternal Son as ransom for his Foe,
I'll sing aloud, that all the World may hear,
The Triumph of the buried Conquerer.
How Hell was by its Pris'ner Captive led,
And the great slayer Death slain by the Dead.

403

3.

Me thinks I hear of murthered men the voice,
Mixt with the Murderers confused noise,
Sound from the top of Calvarie;
My greedy eyes fly up the Hill, and see
Who 'tis hangs there the midmost of the three;
Oh how unlike the others he!
Look how he bends his gentle head with blessings from the Tree!
His gracious Hands ne'r stretcht but to do good,
Are nail'd to the infamous wood:
And sinful Man do's fondly bind
The Arms, which he extends t'embrace all humane kind.

4.

Unhappy Man, canst thou stand by, and see
All this as patient, as he?
Since he thy Sins do's bear,
Make thou his sufferings thine own,
And weep, and sigh, and groan,
And beat thy Breast, and tear,
Thy Garments, and thy Hair,
And let thy grief, and let thy love
Through all thy bleeding bowels move.
Do'st thou not see thy Prince in purple clad all o're,
Not purple brought from the Sidonian shore,
But made at home with richer gore?
Dost thou not see the Roses, which adorn
The thorny Garland, by him worn?
Dost thou not see the livid traces
Of the sharp scourges rude embraces?
If yet thou feelest not the smart
Of Thorns and Scourges in thy heart,
If that be yet not crucifi'd,
Look on his Hands, look on his Feet, look on his Side.

5.

Open, Oh! open wide the Fountains of thine eyes,
And let 'em call
Their stock of moisture forth, where e're it lies,
For this will ask it all.

404

'Twould all (alas) too little be,
Though thy salt tears came from a Sea:
Canst thou deny him this, when he
Has open'd all his vital Springs for thee?
Take heed; for by his sides misterious flood
May well be understood,
That he will still require some waters to his blood.

On Orinda's Poems.

ODE.

[[1.]]

We allow'd You Beauty, and we did submit
To all the Tyrannies of it;
Ah! Cruel Sex, will you depose us too in Wit?
Orinda does in that too raign,
Does Man behind her in Proud Triumph draw,
And Cancel great Apollo's Salick Law.
We our old Title plead in vain,
Man may be Head, but Woman's now the Brain.
Verse was Loves Fire-arms heretofore,
In Beauties Camp it was not known,
Too many Arms besides that Conquerour bore:
'Twas the great Canon we brought down
T'assault a stubborn Town;
Orinda first did a bold sally make,
Our strongest Quarter take,
And so successful prov'd, that she
Turn'd upon Love himself his own Artillery.

2.

Women as if the Body were their Whole,
Did that, and not the Soul
Transmit to their Posterity;
If in it sometime they conceiv'd,
Th' abortive Issue never liv'd.
'Twere shame and pity' Orinda, if in thee
A Spirit so rich, so noble, and so high
Should unmanur'd, or barren lye.

405

But thou industriously hast sow'd and till'd
The fair, and fruitful field;
And 'tis a strange increase, that it does yield.
As when the happy Gods above
Meet altogether at a feast,
A secret Joy unspeakably does move,
In their great Mother Cybele's contented breast:
With no less pleasure thou methinks shouldst see,
This thy no less immortal Progenie.
And in their Birth thou no one touch dost find,
Of th' ancient curse to Woman-kind,
Thou bringst not forth with pain,
It neither Travel is, nor labour of the brain,
So easily they from thee come,
And there is so much room
In th' unexhausted and unfathom'd Womb,
That like the Holland Countess thou mayst bear
A child for every day of all the fertil year.

3.

Thou dost my wonder, wouldst my envy raise
If to be prais'd I lov'd more than to praise,
Where e're I see an excellence,
I must admire to see thy well knit sense,
Thy numbers gentle, and thy Fancies high,
Those as thy forehead smooth, these sparkling as thine eye.
'Tis solid, and 'tis manly all,
Or rather 'tis Angelical,
For as in Angels, we
Do in thy Verses see
Both improv'd Sexes eminently meet,
They are than Man more strong, and more than Woman sweet.

4.

They talk of Nine, I know not who,
Female Chimera's that o're Poets reign,
I ne'r could find that fancy true,
But have invok'd them oft I'm sure in vain:
They talk of Sappho, but alas, the shame!
Ill manners soil the lustre of her Fame:

406

Orinda's inward virtue is so bright,
That like a Lanthorn's fair inclosed Light,
It through the Paper shines where she do's write.
Honour and Friendship, and the generous scorn
Of things for which we were not born,
(Things that can only by a fond Disease,
Like that of Girles, our vicious Stomachs please)
Are the instructive Subjects of her pen,
And as the Roman Victory
Taught our rude Land, Arts, and Civility,
At once she overcomes, enslaves, and betters Men.

5.

But Rome with all her Arts could ne'r inspire,
A Female Breast with such a fire.
The warlike Amazonian train,
Who in Elysium now do peaceful reign,
And wits milde Empire before Arms prefer,
Hope 'twill be setled in their sex by her.
Merlin the Seer, (and sure he would not ly,
In such a sacred Company,)
Does Prophecies of Learn'd Orinda show,
Which he had darkly spoke so long ago.
Ev'n Boadicia's angry Ghost
Forgets her own misfortune, and disgrace,
And to her injur'd Daughters now does boast,
That Rome's o'ercome at last, by a woman of her Race.

ODE.

Upon occasion of a Copy of Verses of my Lord Broghills.

[[1.]]

Be gon (said I) Ingrateful Muse, and see
What others thou canst fool as well as me.
Since I grew Man, and wiser ought to be,
My business and my hopes I left for thee:

407

For thee (which was more hardly given away)
I left, even when a Boy, my Play.
But say, Ingrateful Mistress, say,
What for all this, what didst Thou ever pay?
Thou'lt say, perhaps, that Riches are
Not of the growth of Lands, where thou dost Trade,
And I, as well my Countrey might upbraid
Because I have no vineyard there.
Well: but in Love, thou dost pretend to Reign,
There thine the power and Lordship is,
Thou bad'st me write, and write, and write again;
'Twas such a way as could not miss.
I like a Fool, did thee Obey,
I wrote, and wrote, but still I wrote in vain,
For after all my expense of Wit and Pain,
A rich, unwriting Hand, carry'd the Prize away.

2.

Thus I complain'd, and straight the Muse reply'd,
That she had given me Fame.
Bounty Immense! And that too must be try'd,
When I my self am nothing but a name.
Who now, what Reader does not strive
T'invalidate the gift whilst w'are alive?
For when a Poet now himself doth show,
As if he were a common Foe,
All draw upon him, all around,
And every part of him they wound,
Happy the Man that gives the deepest blow:
And this is all, kind Muse, to thee we owe.
Then in a rage I took
And out at window threw
Ovid and Horace, all the chiming Crew,
Homer himself went with them too,
Hardly escap'd the sacred Mantuan Book:
I my own Off-spring, like Agave tore
And I resolv'd, nay and I think I swore,
That I no more the Ground would Till and Sow,
Where only flowry Weeds instead of Corn did grow.

408

3.

When (see the subtil ways which Fate does find,
Rebellious man to bind,
Just to the work for which he is assign'd)
The Muse came in more chearful than before,
And bad me quarrel with her now no more.
Loe thy reward! look here and see,
What I have made (said she)
My Lover, and belov'd, my Broghil do for thee.
Though thy own verse no lasting fame can give,
Thou shalt at least in his for ever live.
What Criticks, the great Hectors now in Wit,
Who Rant and Challenge all men that have Writ,
Will dare t' oppose thee when
Broghil in thy defence has drawn his conquering Pen?
I rose and bow'd my head,
And pardon askt for all that I had said,
Well satisfi'd and proud,
I straight resolv'd, and solemnly I vow'd,
That from her service now I ne'r would part.
So strongly, large Rewards work on a grateful Heart.

4.

Nothing so soon the drooping Spirits can raise
As Praises from the Men, whom all men praise.
'Tis the best Cordial, and which only those
Who have at home th' Ingredients can compose,
A Cordial, that restores our fainting Breath,
And keeps up Life even after Death.
The only danger is, lest it should be
Too strong a remedie:
Lest, in removing cold, it should beget
Too violent a heat;
And into madness, turn the Lethargie.
Ah! Gracious God! that I might see
A time when it were dangerous for me
To be o're heat with Praise!
But I within me bear (alas) too great allayes.

409

5.

'Tis said, Apelles, when he Venus drew,
Did naked Women for his pattern view,
And with his powerful fancy did refine
Their humane shapes into a form Divine;
None who had set could her own Picture see,
Or say, One part was drawn for me:
So, though this nobler Painter when he writ,
Was pleas'd to think it fit
That my Book should before him sit,
Not as a cause, but an occasion to his wit:
Yet what have I to boast, or to apply
To my advantage out of it, since I,
Instead of my own likeness, only find
The bright Idea there, of the great Writers mind?

ODE.

Mr. Cowley's Book presenting it self to the University Library of Oxford.

Hail Learnings Pantheon! Hail the sacred Ark
Where all the World of Science do's imbarque!
Which ever shall withstand, and hast so long withstood,
Insatiate Times devouring Flood.
Hail Tree of Knowledg, thy leaves Fruit! which well
Dost in the midst of Paradise arise,
Oxford the Muses Paradise,
From which may never Sword the blest expell.
Hail Bank of all past Ages! where they lye
T' inrich with interest Posterity!
Hail Wits Illustrious Galaxy!
Where thousand Lights into one brightness spread;
Hail living University of the Dead!

2.

Unconfus'd Babel of all tongues, which er'e
The mighty Linguist Fame, or Time the mighty Traveler,
That could speak, or this could hear.

410

Majestick Monument and Pyramide,
Where still the shapes of parted Souls abide
Embalm'd in verse, exalted souls which now
Enjoy those Arts they woo'd so well below,
Which now all wonders plainly see,
That have been, are, or are to be,
In the mysterious Library,
The Beatifick Bodley of the Deity.

3.

Will you into your Sacred throng admit
The meanest British Wit?
You Gen'ral Councel of the Priests of Fame,
Will you not murmur and disdain,
That I place among you claim,
The humblest Deacon of her train?
Will you allow me th' honourable chain?
The chain of Ornament which here
Your noble Prisoners proudly wear;
A Chain which will more pleasant seem to me
Than all my own Pindarick Liberty:
Will ye to bind me with those mighty names submit,
Like an Apocrypha with holy Writ?
What ever happy book is chained here,
No other place or People need to fear;
His Chain's a Pasport to go ev'ry where.

4.

As when a seat in Heaven,
Is to an unmalicious Sinner given,
Who casting round his wondring eye,
Does none but Patriarchs and Apostles there espye;
Martyrs who did their lives bestow,
And Saints who Martyrs liv'd below;
With trembling and amazement he begins,
To recollect his frailties past and sins,
He doubts almost his Station there,
His soul sayes to it self, How came I here?
It fares no otherwise with me
When I my self with conscious wonder see,
Amidst this purifi'd elected Companie.

411

With hardship they, and pain,
Did to this happiness attain:
No labour I, nor merits can pretend,
I think Predestination only was my friend.

5.

Ah, that my Author had been ty'd like me
To such a place, and such a Companie!
Instead of sev'ral Countries, sev'ral Men,
And business which the Muses hate,
He might have then improv'd that small Estate,
Which nature sparingly did to him give,
He might perhaps have thriven then,
And setled, upon me his Child, somewhat to live.
'T had happier been for him, as well as me,
For when all, (alas) is done,
We Books, I mean, You Books, will prove to be
The best and noblest conversation.
For though some errors will get in,
Like Tinctures of Original sin:
Yet sure we from our Fathers wit
Draw all the strength and Spirit of it:
Leaving the grosser parts for conversation,
As the best blood of Man's imploy'd in generation.

ODE.

Sitting and Drinking in the Chair, made out of the Reliques of Sir Francis Drake's Ship.

[[1.]]

Chear up my Mates, the wind does fairly blow,
Clap on more sail and never spare;
Farewell all Lands, for now we are
In the wide Sea of Drink, and merrily we go.
Bless me, 'tis hot! another bowl of wine,
And we shall cut the Burning Line:
Hey Boyes! she scuds away, and by my head I know,
We round the World are sailing now.

412

What dull men are those who tarry at home,
When abroad they might wantonly rome,
And gain such experience, and spy too
Such Countries, and Wonders as I do?
But prythee good Pilot take heed what you do,
And fail not to touch at Peru;
With Gold, there the Vessel we'll store,
And never, and never be poor,
No never be poor any more.

2.

What do I mean? What thoughts do me misguide?
As well upon a staff may Witches ride
Their fancy'd Journies in the Ayr,
As I sail round the Ocean in this Chair:
'Tis true; but yet this Chair which here you see,
For all its quiet now, and gravitie,
Has wandred, and has travailed more,
Than ever Beast, or Fish, or Bird, or ever Tree before.
In every Ayr, and every Sea't has been,
'T has compas'd all the Earth, and all the Heavens 't has seen.
Let not the Pope's it self with this compare,
This is the only Universal Chair.

3.

The pious Wandrers Fleet, sav'd from the flame,
(Which still the Reliques did of Troy persue,
And took them for its due)
A squadron of immortal Nymphs became:
Still with their Arms they row about the Seas,
And still make new and greater voyages;
Nor has the first Poetick Ship of Greece,
(Though now a star she so Triumphant show,
And guide her sailing Successors below,
Bright as her ancient freight the shining fleece;)
Yet to this day a quiet harbour found,
The tide of Heaven still carries her around.
Only Drakes Sacred vessel which before
Had done, and had seen more,
Than those have done or seen,
Ev'n since they Goddesses, and this a Star has been;

413

As a reward for all her labour past,
Is made the seat of rest at last.
Let the case now quite alter'd be,
And as thou went'st abroad the World to see;
Let the World now come to see thee.

4.

The World will do't; for Curiosity
Does no less than devotion, Pilgrims make;
And I my self who now love quiet too,
As much almost as any Chair can do,
Would yet a journey take,
An old wheel of that Chariot to see,
Which Phaeton so rashly brake:
Yet what could that say more than these remains of Drake?
Great Relique! thou too, in this Port of ease,
Hast still one way of Making Voyages;
The breath of fame, like an auspicious Gale,
(The great Trade-wind which ne're does fail,)
Shall drive thee round the World, and thou shalt run,
As long around it as the Sun.
The straights of time too narrow are for thee,
Lanch forth into an indiscovered Sea,
And steer the endless course of vast Eternitie,
Take for thy Sail this Verse, and for thy Pilot Mee.

Upon the Death of the Earl of Balcarres.

1.

Tis folly all, that can be said
By living Mortals of th' immortal dead,
And I'm afraid they laugh at the vain tears we shed.
'Tis, as if we, who stay behind
In Expectation of the wind
Should pity those, who pass'd this strait before,
And touch the universal shore.
Ah happy Man, who art to sail no more!

414

And, if it seem ridiculous to grieve
Because our Friends are newly come from Sea,
Though ne're so fair and calm it be;
What would all sober men believe
If they should hear us sighing say:
Balcarres, who but th' other day
Did all our Love and our respect command,
At whose great parts we all amaz'd did stand,
Is from a storm, alass! cast suddenly on land?

2.

If you will say: Few persons upon Earth
Did more then he, deserve to have
A life exempt from fortune and the grave;
Whether you look upon his Birth,
And Ancestors, whose fame's so widely spred,
But Ancestors alas, who long ago are dead!
Or whither you consider more
The vast increase, as sure you ought,
Of honor by his Labour bought,
And added to the former store.
All I can answer, is, that I allow
The priviledge you plead for; and avow
That, as he well deserv'd, he doth injoy it now.

3.

Though God for great and righteous ends,
Which his unerring Providence intends,
Erroneous mankind should not understand,
Would not permit Balcarres hand,
That once with so much industry and art
Had clos'd the gaping wounds of ev'ry part,
To perfect his distracted Nations Cure,
Or stop the fatal bondage, 't was t'endure;
Yet for his pains he soon did him remove
From all th' oppression and the woe
Of his frail Bodies Native Soil below,
To his Souls true and peaceful Count'ry above:
So God, like Kings, for secret causes known
Sometimes, but to themselves alone,

415

One of their ablest Ministers elect,
And send abroad to Treaties, which th' intend
Shall never take effect.
But, though the Treaty wants a happy end,
The happy agent wants not the reward,
For which he Labour'd faithfully and hard;
His just and righteous Master calls him home,
And gives him near himself some honourable room.

4.

Noble and great endeavours did he bring
To save his Country and restore his King;
And whilst the Manly half of him, which those,
Who know not Love, to be the whole suppose;
Perform'd all parts of Virtues vigorous Life;
The beauteous half his lovely Wife
Did all his Labors and his cares divide;
Nor was a lame, nor paralitick side.
In all the turnes of human state,
And all th' unjust attacques of fate
She bore her share and portion still,
And would not suffer any to be ill.
Unfortunate for ever let me be,
If I believe that such was he,
Whom, in the storms of bad success,
And all that error calls unhappiness,
His virtue, and his virtuous Wife did still accompany.

5.

With these companions 't was not strange
That nothing could his temper change.
His own and Countries union had not weight
Enough to crush his mighty mind.
He saw around the Hurricans of State,
Fixt as an Island 'gainst the waves and wind.
Thus far the greedy Sea may reach,
All outward things are but the [beach];
A great Mans Soul it doth assault in vain.
Their God himself the Ocean doth restrain

416

With an imperceptible chain,
And bid it to go back again:
His Wisdom, Justice, and his Piety,
His Courage both to suffer and to die,
His Virtues and his Lady too
Were things Celestial. And we see
In spight of quarrelling Philosophie,
How in this case 'tis certain found,
That Heav'n stands still, and only Earth goes round.

ODE.

Upon Dr. Harvey.

1.

Coy Nature, (which remain'd, though aged grown,
A Beauteous virgin still, injoy'd by none,
Nor seen unveil'd by any one)
When Harveys violent passion she did see,
Began to tremble, and to flee,
Took Sanctuary like Daphne in a tree:
There Daphnes lover stop't, and thought it much
The very Leaves of her to touch,
But Harvey our Apollo, stopt not so,
Into the Bark, and root he after her did goe:
No smallest Fibres of a Plant,
For which the eiebeams Point doth sharpness want,
His passage after her withstood.
What should she do? through all the moving wood
Of Lives indow'd with sense she took her flight,
Harvey persues, and keeps her still in sight.
But as the Deer long-hunted takes a flood,
She leap't at last into the winding streams of blood;
Of mans Meander all the Purple reaches made,
Till at the heart she stay'd,
Where turning head, and at a Bay,
Thus, by well-purged ears, was she o're-heard to say.

417

2.

Here sure shall I be safe (said she)
None will be able sure to see
This my retreat, but only He
Who made both it and me.
The heart of Man, what Art can e're reveal?
A wall impervious between
Divides the very Parts within,
And doth the Heart of man ev'n from its self conceal.
She spoke, but e're she was aware,
Harvey was with her there,
And held this slippery Proteus in a chain,
Till all her mighty Mysteries she descry'd,
Which from his wit the attempt before to hide
Was the first Thing that Nature did in vain.

3.

He the young Practise of New life did see,
Whil'st to conceal its toilsome Poverty,
It for a living wrought, both hard, and privately.
Before the Liver understood
The noble Scarlet Dye of Blood,
Before one drop was by it made,
Or brought into it, to set up the Trade;
Before the untaught Heart began to beat
The tuneful March to vital Heat,
From all the Souls that living Buildings rear,
Whether imply'd for Earth, or Sea, or Air,
Whether it in the Womb or Egg be wrought,
A strict account to him is hourly brought,
How the Great Fabrick does proceed,
What time and what materials it does need.
He so exactly does the work survey,
As if he hir'd the workers by the day.

4.

Thus Harvey sought for Truth in Truth's own Book
The Creatures, which by God himself was writ;
And wisely thought 'twas fit,
Not to read Comments only upon it,
But on th'original it self to look.

418

Methinks in Arts great Circle others stand
Lock't up together, Hand in Hand,
Every one leads as he is led,
The same bare path they tread,
A Dance like Fairies a Fantastick round,
But neither change their motion, nor their ground:
Had Harvey to this Road confin'd his wit,
His noble Circle of the Blood, had been untroden yet.
Great Doctor! Th' Art of Curing's cur'd by thee,
We now thy patient Physick see,
From all inveterate diseases free,
Purg'd of old errors by thy care,
New dieted, put forth to clearer air,
It now will strong and healthful prove,
It self before Lethargick lay, and could not move.

5.

These useful secrets to his Pen we owe,
And thousands more 'twas ready to bestow;
Of which a barb'rous Wars unlearned Rage
Has robb'd the ruin'd age;
O cruel loss! as if the Golden Fleece,
With so much cost, and labour bought,
And from a far by a Great Heroe brought
Had sunk ev'n in the Ports of Greece.
O cursed Warr! who can forgive thee this?
Houses and Towns may rise again,
And ten times easier it is
To rebuild Pauls, than any work of his.
That mighty Task none but himself can do,
Nay, scarce himself too now,
For though his Wit the force of Age withstand,
His Body alas! and Time it must command,
And Nature now, so long by him surpass't,
Will sure have her revenge on him at last.

419

ODE.

Acme and Septimius out of Catullus.

Acmen Septimius suos amores Tenens in gremio, &c.

Whilst on Septimius panting Brest,
(Meaning nothing less then Rest)
Acme lean'd her loving head,
Thus the pleas'd Septimius said.

My dearest Acme, if I be
Once alive, and love not thee
With a Passion far above
All that e're was called Love,
In a Lybian desert may
I become some Lions prey,
Let him, Acme, let him tear
My Brest, when Acme is not there.

The God of Love who stood to hear him,
(The God of Love was always near him)
Pleas'd and tickl'd with the sound,
Sneez'd aloud, and all around
The little Loves that waited by,
Bow'd and blest the Augurie.

Acme enflam'd with what he said,
Rear'd her gently-bending head,
And her purple mouth with joy
Stretching to the delicious Boy
Twice (and twice could scarce suffice)
She kist his drunken, rowling eyes.

My little Life, my All (said she)
So may we ever servants be
To this best God, and ne'r retain
Our hated Liberty again,
So may thy passion last for me,
As I a passion have for thee,
Greater and fiercer much then can

420

Be conceiv'd by Thee a Man.
Into my Marrow is it gone,
Fixt and setled in the Bone,
It reigns not only in my Heart,
But runs, like Life, through ev'ry part.
She spoke; the God of Love aloud,
Sneez'd again, and all the crowd
Of little Loves that waited by,
Bow'd and blest the Augurie.
This good Omen thus from Heaven
Like a happy signal given,
Their Loves and Lives (all four) embrace,
And hand in hand run all the race.
To poor Septimius (who did now
Nothing else but Acme grow)
Acme's bosome was alone,
The whole worlds Imperial Throne,
And to faithful Acmes mind
Septimius was all Human kind.
If the Gods would please to be
But advis'd for once by me,
I'de advise 'em when they spie,
Any illustrious Piety,
To reward Her, if it be she;
To reward Him, if it be He;
With such a Husband, such a Wife,
With Acme's and Septimius' Life.

ODE.

Upon His Majesties Restoration and Return.

Virgil.—Quod optanti Divûm promittere nemo Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultro.

1.

Now Blessings on you all, ye peaceful Starrs,
Which meet at last so kindly, and dispence
Your universal gentle Influence,
To calm the stormy World, and still the rage of Warrs.

421

Nor whilst around the Continent,
Plenipotentiary Beams ye sent,
Did your Pacifick Lights disdain,
In their large Treaty to contain
The world apart, o're which do raign
Your seven fair Brethren of Great Charls his Wane;
No Star amon[g]st ye all did, I believe,
Such vigorous assistance give,
As that which thirty years ago,
At Charls his Birth, did, in despight
Of the proud Sun's Meridian Light,
His future Glories, and this Year foreshow,
No less effects than these we may
Be assur'd of from that powerful Ray,
Which could out-face the Sun, and overcome the Day.

2.

Auspicious Star again arise,
And take thy Noon-tide station in the skies,
Again all Heaven prodigiously adorn;
For loe! thy Charls again is Born.
He then was Born with and to pain:
With, and to Joy he's born again.
And wisely for this second Birth,
By which thou certain wert to bless
The Land with full and flourishing Happiness
Thou mad'st of that fair Month thy choice,
In which Heaven, Air, and Sea, and Earth,
And all that's in them all does smile, and does rejoyce.
'Twas a right Season, and the very Ground
Ought with a face of Paradise to be found,
Th[e]n when we were to entertain
Felicity and Innocence again.

3.

Shall we again (good Heaven!) that Blessed pair behold,
Which the abused People fondly sold

422

For the bright Fruit of the forbidden Tree,
By seeking all like gods to be?
Will Peace her Halcyon Nest venture to build
Upon a Shore with Shipwracks fill'd?
And trust that Sea, where she can hardly say,
Sh'has known these twenty years one calmy day,
Ah! mild and gaulless Dove,
Which dost the pure and candid Dwellings love:
Canst thou in Albion still delight?
Still canst thou think it white?
Will ever fair Religion appear
In these deformed Ruins? will she clear
Th'Augæan Stables of her Churches here?
Will Justice hazard to be seen
Where a High Court of Justice e're has been?
Will not the Tragique Scene,
And Bradshaw's bloody Ghost affright her there,
Her who shall never fear?
Then may White-hall for Charles his Seat be fit.
If Justice shall endure at Westminster to sit.

4.

Of all, methinks, we least should see
The chearful looks again of Liberty.
That Name of Cromwell, which does freshly still
The Curses of so many sufferers fill,
Is still enough to make her stay,
And jealous for a while remain,
Lest as a Tempest carried him away,
Some Hurican should bring him back again.
Or she might justlier be afraid
Lest that great Serpent, which was all a Tail,
(And in his poys'nous folds whole Nations Pris'ners made)
Should a third time perhaps prevail
To joyn again, and with worse sting arise,
As it had done, when cut in pieces twice.
Return, return, ye Sacred Four,
And dread your perisht Enemies no more,
Your fears are causeless all, and vain
Whilst you return in Charles his train,

423

For God does Him, that He might You restore,
Nor shall the world him only call,
Defender of the Faith, but of ye All.

5.

Along with you Plenty and Riches go
With a full Tide to every Port they flow,
With a warm fruitful wind o're all the Countrey blow.
Honour does as ye march her Trumpet sound,
The Arts encompass you around,
And against all Alarms of Fear,
Safety it self brings up the Rear.
And in the head of this Angelique band,
Lo, how the Goodly Prince at last does stand
(O righteous God!) on his own happy Land.
'Tis Happy now, which could, with so much ease
Recover from so desperate a Disease,
A various complicated Ill,
Whose every Symptome was enough to kill,
In which one part of Three Frenzey possest,
And Lethargy the rest.
'Tis Happy, which no Bleeding does indure
A Surfet of such Blood to cure.
'Tis Happy, which beholds the Flame
In which by hostile hands it ought, to burn,
Or that which if from Heaven it came
It did but well deserve, all into Bonfire turn.

6.

We fear'd (and almost toucht the black degree
Of instant Expectation)
That the three dreadful Angels we
Of Famine, Sword and Plague should here establisht see;
(God's great Triumvirate of Desolation)
To scourge and to destroy the sinful Nation.
Justly might Heav'n Protectors such as those,
And such Committees for their Safety impose,
Upon a Land which scarsely Better chose.
We fear'd that the Fanatique war
Which men against God's houses did declare,

424

Would from th'Almighty Enemy bring down
A sure destruction on our Own.
We read th' Instructive Histories which tell
Of all those endless mischiefs that befell,
The Sacred Town which God had lov'd so well,
After that fatal Curse had once been said,
His Blood be upon ours, and on our Childrens head.
We knew, though there a greater Blood was spilt,
'Twas scarcely done with greater Guilt.
We know those miseries did befall
Whilst they rebell'd against that Prince whom all
The rest of Mankind did the Love, and Joy, of Mankind call.

7.

Already was the shaken Nation
Into a wild and deform'd Chaos brought
And it was hasting on (we thought)
Even to the last of [Ills,] Annihilation.
When in the midst of this confused Night,
Loe, the blest Spirit mov'd, and there was Light.
For in the glorious General's previous Ray,
We saw a new created Day.
We by it saw, though yet in Mists it shone,
The beauteous Work of Order moving on.
Where are the men who bragg'd that God did bless,
And with the marks of good success
Signe his allowance of their wickedness?
Vain men! who thought the Divine Power to find
In the fierce Thunder and the violent Wind:
God came not till the storm was past,
In the still voice of Peace he came at last.
'The cruel business of Destruction,
May by the Claws of the great Fiend be done.
Here, here we see th' Almighty's hand indeed,
Both by the Beauty of the Work, we see't, and by the Speed.

8.

He who had seen the noble British Heir,
Even in that ill disadvantageous Light,
With which [misfortune] strives t'abuse our sight;
He who had seen him in his Clowd so bright:

425

He who had seen the double Pair
Of Brothers heavenly good, and Sisters heavenly fair,
Might have perceiv'd (me thinks) with ease,
(But wicked men see only what they please)
That God had no intent t'extinguish quite
The pious King's eclipsed Right.
He who had seen how by the power Divine
All the young Branches of this Royal Line
Did in their fire without consuming shine,
How through a rough Red sea they had been led,
By Wonders guarded, and by Wonders fed.
How many years of trouble and distress
They'd wandred in their fatal Wilderness,
And yet did never murmure or repine;
Might (me-thinks) plainly understand,
That after all these conquer'd Trials past,
Th'Almighty Mercy would at last
Conduct them with a strong un-erring hand
To their own promis'd Land.
For all the glories of the Earth
Ought to be entail'd by right of Birth
And all Heaven's blessings to come down
Upon his Race, to whom alone was given
The double Royalty of Earth and Heaven,
Who crown'd the Kingly with the Martyrs Crown.

9.

The Martyr's blood was said of old to be
The seed from whence the Church did grow.
The Royal Blood which dying Charles did sow
Becomes no less the seed of Royalty.
'Twas in dishonour sown,
We find it now in glory grown,
The grave could but the dross of it devour;
'Twas sown in weakness, and 'tis rais'd in power.
We now the Question well decided see,
Which Eastern Wits did once contest
At the Great Monarch's Feast
Of all on earth what things the strongest be:
And some for Women, some for Wine did plead;

426

That is, for Folly and for Rage,
Two things which we have known indeed
Strong in this latter Age.
But as 'tis prov'd by Heaven at length,
The King and Truth have greatest strength,
When they their sacred force unite,
And twine into one Right,
No frantick Common-wealths or Tyrannies,
No Cheats, and Perjuries, and Lies,
No Nets of humane Policies;
No stores of Arms or Gold (though you could joyn
Those of Peru to the great London Mine)
No Towns, no Fleets by Sea, or Troops by Land,
No deeply entrencht Islands can withstand,
Or any small resistance bring
Against the naked Truth, and the unarmed King.

10.

The foolish Lights which Travellers beguile,
End the same night when they begin;
No Art so far can upon Nature win
As e're to put out Stars, or long keep Meteors in.
Wher's now that Ignis Fatuus which e're while
Mis-lead our wandring Isle?
Wher's the Imposter Cromwel gon?
Where's now that Falling-star his Son?
Where's the large Comet now whose raging flame
So fatal to our Monarchy became?
Which o're our heads in such proud horror stood,
Insatiate with our Ruine and our Blood?
The fiery Tail did to vast length extend;
And twice for want of Fuel did expire,
And twice renew'd the dismal Fire;
Though long the Tayl we saw at last its end.
The flames of one triumphant day,
Which like an Anti-Comet here
Did fatally to that appear,
For ever frighted it away;
Then did th'allotted hour of dawning Right
First strike our ravisht sight

427

Which Malice or which Art no more could stay,
Than Witches Charms can a retardment bring
To the Resuscitation of the Day,
Or Resurrection of the Spring.
We welcome both, and with improv'd delight
Bless the preceding Winter and the Night.

11.

Man ought his future Happiness to fear,
If he be always Happy here
He wants the bleeding Mark of Grace,
The Circumcision of the chosen race.
If no one part of him supplies
The duty of a Sacrifice,
He is (we doubt) reserv'd intire
As a whole Victime for the Fire.
Besides even in this World below,
To those who never did ill Fortune know,
The good does nauseous or insipid grow.
Consider man's whole Life, and you'l confess,
The sharp Ingredient of some bad success
Is that which gives the taste to all his Happiness.
But the true Method of Felicity,
Is when the worst
Of humane Life is plac'd the first,
And when the Childs Correction proves to be
The cause of perfecting the Man
Let our weak Dayes lead up the Van,
Let the brave Second and Triarian Band,
Firm against all impression stand;
The first we may defeated see;
The Virtue and the Force of these, are sure of Victory.

12.

Such are the years (great Charles) which now we see
Begin their glorious March with Thee:
Long may their March to Heaven, and still Triumphant be.
Now thou art gotten once before,
Ill Fortune never shall o're-take thee more.

428

To see't again, and pleasure in it find,
Cast a disdainful look behind,
Things which offend, when present, and affright,
In Memory, well painted, move delight.
Enjoy then all thy affictions now;
Thy Royal Father's came at last:
Thy Martyrdom's already past.
And different Crowns to both ye owe.
No gold did e're the Kingly Temples bind,
Than thine more try'd and more refin'd.
As a choise Medal for Heaven's Treasury
God did stamp first upon one side of Thee
The Image of his suffering Humanity:
On th' other side, turn'd now to sight, does shine
The glorious Image of his Power Divine.

13.

So when the wisest Poets seek
In all their liveliest colours to set forth
A Picture of Heroick worth,
(The Pious Trojan, or the Prudent Greek)
They chuse some comely Prince of heavenly Birth,
(No proud Gigantick son of Earth,
Who strives t' usurp the god's forbidden seat)
They feed him not with Nectar, and the Meat
That cannot without Joy be eat.
But in the cold of want, and storms of adverse chance,
They harden his young Virtue by degrees;
The beauteous Drop first into Ice does freez,
And into solid Chrystal next advance.
His murdered friends and kindred he does see,
And from his flaming Country flee.
Much is he tost at Sea, and much at Land,
Does long the force of angry gods withstand.
He does long troubles and long wars sustain,
E're he his fatal Birth-right gain.
With no less time or labour can
Destiny build up such a Man,
Who's with sufficient virtue fill'd
His ruin'd Country to rebuild.

429

14.

Nor without cause are Arms from Heaven,
To such a Hero by the Poets given.
No human Metal is of force t' oppose
So many and so violent blows.
Such was the Helmet, Breast-plate, Shield,
Which Charles in all Attaques did wield:
And all the Weapons Malice e're could try,
Of all the several makes of wicked Policy,
Against this Armour struck, but at the stroke,
Like Swords of Ice, in thousand pieces broke.
To Angels and their Brethren Spirits above,
No show on Earth can sure so pleasant prove,
As when they great misfortunes see
With Courage born and Decency.
So were they born when Worc'ster's dismal Day
Did all the terrors of black Fate display.
So were they born when no Disguises clowd
His inward Royalty could shrowd,
And one of th' Angels whom just God did send
To guard him in his noble flight,
(A Troop of Angels did him then attend)
Assur'd me in a Vision th' other night,
That He (and who could better judge than He?)
Did then more Greatnesse in him see,
More Lustre and more Majesty,
Than all his Coronation Pomp can shew to Human Eye.

15.

Him and his Royal Brothers when I saw
New marks of honour and of glory,
From their affronts and sufferings draw,
And look like Heavenly Saints even in their Purgatory;
Me-thoughts I saw the three Judæan Youths,
(Three unhurt Martyrs for the Noblest Truths)
In the Chaldæan Furnace walk;
How chearfully and unconcern'd they talk!
No hair is sindg'd, no smallest beauty blasted;
Like painted Lamps they shine unwasted.

430

The greedy fire it self dares not be fed
With the blest Oyl of an Anointed Head.
The honourable Flame
(Which rather Light we ought to name)
Does, like a [G]lory compass them around,
And their whole Body's crown'd.
What are those Two Bright Creatures which we see
Walk with the Royal Three
In the same Ordeal fire,
And mutual Joyes inspire?
Sure they the beauteous Sisters are,
Who whilst they seek to bear their share,
Will suffer no affiction to be there.
Less favour to those Three of old was shown,
To solace with their company,
The fiery Trials of Adversity;
Two Angels joyn with these, the others had but One.

16.

Come forth, come forth, ye men of God belov'd,
And let the power now of that flame,
Which against you so impotent became,
On all your Enemies be proved.
Come, mighty Charls, desire of Nations, come;
Come, you triumphant Exile, home.
He's come, he's safe at shore; I hear the noise
Of a whole Land which does at once rejoyce,
I hear th' united People's sacred voice.
The Sea which circles us around,
Ne're sent to Land so loud a sound;
The mighty shout sends to the Sea a Gale,
And swells up every sail;
The Bells and Guns are scarcely heard at all;
The Artificial Joy's drown'd by the Natural.
All England but one Bonefire seems to be,
One Ætna shooting flames into the Sea.
The Starry Worlds which shine to us afar,
Take ours at this time for a Star.
With Wine all rooms, with Wine the Conduits flow;
And We, the Priests of a Poetick rage,

431

Wonder that in this Golden Age
The Rivers too should not do so.
There is no Stoick sure who would not now,
Even some Excess allow;
And grant that one wild fit of chearful folly
Should end our twenty years of dismal Melancholy.

17.

Where's now the Royal Mother, where,
To take her mighty share
In this so ravishing sight,
And with the part she takes to add to the Delight?
Ah! Why art Thou not here,
Thou always Best, and now the Happiest Queen,
To see our Joy, and with new Joy be seen?
God has a bright Example made of Thee,
To shew that Woman-kind may be
Above that Sex, which her Superiour seems,
In wisely managing the wide Extreams
Of great Affliction, great Felicity.
How well those different Virtues Thee become,
Daughter of Triumphs, Wife of Martyrdom!
Thy Princely Mind with so much Courage bore
Affliction, that it dares return no more;
With so much Goodness us'd Felicity,
That it cannot refrain from coming back to Thee;
'Tis come, and seen to day in all it's Bravery.

18.

Who's that Heroick Person leads it on,
And gives it like a glorious Bride
(Richly adorn'd with Nuptial Pride)
Into the hands now of thy Son?
'Tis the good General, the Man of Praise,
Whom God at last in gracious pitty
Did to th' enthrall'd Nation raise,
Their great Zerubbabel to be,
To loose the Bonds of long Captivity,
And to rebuild their Temple and their City.

432

For ever blest may He and His remain,
Who, with a vast, though less-appearing gain,
Preferr'd the solid Great above the Vain,
And to the world this Princely Truth has shown,
That more 'tis to Restore, than to Usurp a Crown.
Thou worthiest Person of the Brittish Story,
(Though 'tis not small the Brittish glory)
Did I not know my humble Verse must be
But ill-proportion'd to the Heighth of Thee,
Thou, and the World should see,
How much my Muse, the Foe of Flattery,
Do's make true Praise her Labour and Design;
An Iliad or an Æneid should be Thine.

19.

And ill should We deserve this happy day,
If no acknowledgments we pay
To you, great Patriots, of the Two
Most truly Other Houses now,
Who have redeem'd from hatred and from shame
A Parliaments once venerable name;
And now the Title of a House restore,
To that, which was but slaughter-house before.
If my advice, ye Worthies, might be ta'ne,
Within those reverend places,
Which now your living presence graces,
Your Marble-Statues alwayes should remain,
To keep alive your useful Memory,
And to your Successors th' Example be
Of Truth, Religion, Reason, Loyalty.
For though a firmly setled Peace
May shortly make your publick labours cease,
The grateful Nation will with joy consent,
That in this sense you should be said,
(Though yet the Name sounds with some dread)
To be the Long, the Endless Parliament.

The Star that appeared at Noon, the day of the Kings Birth, just as the King His Father was riding to St. Pauls to give thanks to God for that Blessing.

433

On the Queens Repairing Somerset House.

When God (the Cause to Me and Men unknown)
Forsook the Royal Houses, and his Own,
And both abandon'd to the Common Foe;
How near to ruine did my Glories go?
Nothing remain'd t' adorn this Princely place
Which Covetous hands could Take, or Rude Deface.
In all my rooms and galleries I found
The richest Figures torn, and all around
Dismembred Statues of great Heroes lay;
Such Naseby's Field seem'd on the fatal Day.
And Me, when nought for Robbery was left,
They starv'd to death; the gasping walls were cleft,
The Pillars sunk, the Roofs above me wept,
No sign of Spring, or Joy, my Garden kept,
Nothing was seen which could content the Eye,
Till Dead the impious Tyrant Here did lye.

See how my face is chang'd, and what I am
Since my true Mistress, and now Foundress, came.
It does not fill her Bounty to restore
Me as I was (nor was I small) before.
She imitates the Kindness to Her shown;
She does, like Heaven (which the dejected Throne
At once restores, fixes, and higher rears.)
Strengthen, Enlarge, Exalt what she Repairs.
And now I dare (though proud I must not be,
Whil'st my great Mistress I so Humble see
In all her various Glories) now I dare
Ev'n with the proudest Palaces compare,
My Beauty, and Convenience will (I'm sure)
So just a boast with Modesty endure.
And all must to me yield, when I shall tell,
How I am plac'd, and Who does in me dwell.

Before my Gate a Street's broad Channel goes,
Which still with Waves of crowding people flows,
And every day there passes by my side,
Up to its Western Reach, the London Tide,

434

The Spring-Tides of the Term; my Front looks down
On all the Pride, and Business of the Town.
My other Front (for as in Kings we see
The liveliest Image of the Deity,
We in their Houses should Heaven's likeness find,
Where nothing can be said to be Behind)
My other fair and more Majestick Face
(Who can the Fair to more advantage place?)
For ever gazes on it self below
In the best Mirrour that the world can show.

And here, Behold, in a long bending row,
How two joynt Cities make one glorious Bow,
The Midst, the noblest place, possess'd by Me;
Best to be Seen by all, and all O'resee.
Which way soe'r I turn my joyful Eye,
Here the Great Court, there the rich Town, I spy;
On either side dwells Safety and Delight;
Wealth on the Left, and Power upon the Right.
T' assure yet my defence, on either hand,
Like mighty Forts, in equal distance stand
Two of the best and stateliest piles, which e're
Man's liberal Piety of old did rear,
Where the two Princes of th' Apostles Band,
My Neighbours and my Guards, watch and command.

My warlike Guard of Ships, which farther lye,
Might be my Object too, were not the Eye
Stopt by the Houses of that wondrous Street
Which rides o're the broad River, like a Fleet.
The Stream's eternal Siege they fixt abide,
And the swoln Stream's Auxiliary Tide,
Though both their ruine with joynt power conspire,
Both to out-brave, they nothing dread but Fire.
And here my Thames, though it more gentle be
Than any Flood, so strength'ned by the Sea,
Finding by Art his Natural forces broke,
And bearing, Captive-like, the Arched Yoke,
Do's roar, and foam, and rage at the disgrace,
But recomposes strait and calms his Face,
Is into reverence and submission strook,
As soon as from afar he does but look

435

Tow'rds the White Palace where that King does reign
Who lays his Laws and Bridges o're the Main.

Amidst these lowder Honours of my Seat,
And two vast Cities, troublesomly Great,
In a large various plain the Country too
Opens her gentler blessings to my View,
In me the Active and the Quiet Mind
By different wayes equal content may find.
If any prouder Vertuoso's sence
At that part of my Prospect take offence,
By which the meaner Cabanes are descri'd,
Of my Imperial River's humbler side,
If they call that a Blemish, let them know,
God, and my God-like Mistress, think not so;
For the distrest and the afflicted lye
Most in their Care, and always in their Eye.

And thou, fair River, who still pay'st to Me
Just Homage, in thy passage to the Sea,
Take here this one Instruction as thou goest;
When thy mixt Waves shall visit every Coast,
When round the world their Voyage they shall make,
And back to Thee some secret Channels take,
Ask them what nobler sight they e're did meet
Except thy mighty Master's Soveraign Fleet,
Which now triumphant o're the Main does ride,
The Terror of all Lands, the Ocean's Pride.

From hence his Kingdom's Happy now at last,
(Happy, if Wise by their Misfortunes past)
From hence may Omens take of that success
Which both their future Wars and Peace shall bless:
The Peaceful Mother on mild Thames does build,
With her Son's Fabricks the rough Sea is fill'd.

The Complaint.

1.

In a deep Vision's intellectual scene,
Beneath a Bow'r for sorrow made,
Th' uncomfortable shade,
Of the black Yew's unlucky green,

436

Mixt with the mourning Willow's careful gray,
Where Reverend Cham cuts out his Famous way,
The Melancholy Cowley lay:
And Lo! a Muse appear'd to' his closed sight,
(The Muses oft in Lands of Vision play)
Bodied, arrayed, and seen, by an internal Light,
A golden Harp, with silver strings she bore,
A wondrous Hieroglyphick Robe she wore,
In which all Colours, and all figures were,
That Nature or that Fancy can create,
That Art can never imitate;
And with loose Pride it wanton'd in the Air.
In such a Dress, in such a well-cloath'd Dream,
She us'd, of old, near fair Ismenus Stream,
Pindar her Theban Favourite to meet;
A Crown was on her Head, and wings were on her Feet.

2.

She touch'd him with her Harp, and rais'd him from the Ground;
The shaken strings Melodiously Resound.
Art thou return'd at last, said she,
To this forsaken place and me?
Thou Prodigal, who didst so loosely waste
Of all thy Youthful years, the good Estate;
Art thou return'd here, to repent too late?
And gather husks of Learning up at last,
Now the rich harvest time of Life is past,
And Winter marches on so fast?
But, when I meant t' adopt Thee for my Son,
And did as learn'd a Portion assign,
As ever any of the mighty Nine
Had to their dearest Children done;
When I resolv'd t' exalt thy' anointed Name,
Among the Spiritual Lords of peaceful Fame;
Thou Changling, thou, bewitcht with noise and show,
Wouldst into Courts and Cities from me go;
Wouldst see the World abroad, and have a share
In all the follies, and the Tumults there,
Thou would'st, forsooth, be something in a State,
And business thou would'st find, and would'st Create:

437

Business! the frivolous pretence
Of humane Lusts to shake off Innocence;
Business! the grave impertinence:
Business! the thing which I of all things hate,
Business! the contradiction of thy Fate.

3.

Go, Renegado, cast up thy Account,
And see to what Amount
Thy foolish gains by quitting me:
The sale of Knowledge, Fame, and Liberty,
The fruits of thy unlearn'd Apostacy,
Thou thought'st if once the publick storm were past,
All thy remaining Life should sun-shine be:
Behold the publick storm is spent at last,
The Sovereign is tost at Sea no more,
And thou, with all the Noble Company,
Art got at last to shore.
But whilst thy fellow Voyagers, I see
All marcht up to possess the promis'd Land,
Thou still alone (alas) dost gaping stand,
Upon the naked Beach, upon the Barren Sand.

4.

As a fair morning of the blessed spring,
After a tedious stormy night;
Such was the glorious entry of our King,
Enriching moysture drop'd on every thing:
Plenty he sow'd below, and cast about him light.
But then (alas) to thee alone,
One of Old Gideons Miracles was shown,
For every Tree, and every Herb around,
With Pearly dew was crown'd,
And upon all the quickned ground,
The fruitful seed of Heaven did brooding lye,
And nothing but the Muses Fleece was dry.
It did all other Threats surpass,
When God to his own People said,
(The Men whom through long wandrings he had led)
That he would give them ev'n a Heaven of Brass:

438

They look'd up to that Heaven in vain,
That Bounteous Heaven, which God did not restrain,
Upon the most unjust to Shine and Rain.

5.

The Rachel, for which twice seven years and more,
Thou didst with Faith and Labour serve,
And didst (if Faith and labour can) deserve,
Though she contracted was to thee,
Giv'n to another thou didst see,
Giv'n to another who had store
Of fairer, and of Richer Wives before,
And not a Leah left, thy recompence to be.
Go on, twice seven years more, thy fortune try,
Twice seven years more, God in his bounty may
Give thee, to fling away
Into the Courts deceitful Lottery.
But think how likely 'tis, that thou
With the dull work of thy unweildy Plough,
Shouldst in a hard and Barren season thrive,
Shouldst even able be to live;
Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall,
In the miraculous year, when Manna rain'd on all.

6.

Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile,
That seem'd at once to pity and revile.
And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head,
The Melancholy Cowley said,
Ah wanton foe, dost thou upbraid
The Ills which thou thy self hast made?
When in the Cradle, Innocent I lay,
Thou, wicked Spirit, stolest me away,
And my abused Soul didst bear,
Into thy new-found Worlds I know not where,
Thy Golden Indies in the Air;
And ever since I strive in vain
My ravisht freedom to regain;
Still I Rebel, still thou dost Reign,
Lo, still in verse against thee I complain.

439

There is a sort of stubborn Weeds,
Which, if the Earth but once, it ever breeds.
No wholsom Herb can near them thrive,
No useful Plant can keep alive:
The foolish sports I did on thee bestow,
Make all my Art and Labour fruitless now;
Where once such Fairies dance, no grass doth ever grow.

7.

When my new mind had no infusion known,
Thou gav'st so deep a tincture of thine own,
That ever since I vainly try
To wash away th' inherent dye:
Long work perhaps may spoil thy Colours quite,
But never will reduce the Native white:
To all the Ports of Honour and of Gain,
I often steer my course in vain,
Thy Gale comes cross, and drives me back again.
Thou slack'nest all my Nerves of Industry,
By making them so oft to be
The tinckling strings of thy loose minstrelsie.
Who ever this worlds happiness would see,
Must as entirely cast off thee,
As they who only Heaven desire,
Do from the world retire.
This was my Errour, This my gross mistake,
My self a demy-votary to make.
Thus with Saphira, and her Husbands fate,
(A fault which I like them, am taught too late)
For all that I gave up, I nothing gain,
And perish for the part which I retain.

8.

Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse,
The Court, and better King t' accuse;
The Heaven under which I live is fair;
The fertile soil will a full Harvest bear;
Thine, thine is all the Barrenness; if thou
Mak'st me sit still and sing, when I should plough,

440

When I but think, how many a tedious year
Our patient Soveraign did attend
His long misfortunes fatal end;
How chearfully, and how exempt from fear,
On the Great Soveraigns Will he did depend:
I ought to be accurst, if I refuse
To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse!
Kings have long hands (they say) and though I be
So distant, they may reach at length to me.
However, of all Princes thou
Shouldst not reproach Rewards for being small or slow;
Thou who rewardest but with popular breath,
And that too after death.

The Adventures of Five hours.

As when our Kings (Lords of the spacious Main)
Take in just wars a rich Plate Fleet of Spain;
The rude unshapen Ingots they reduce
Into a form of Beauty and of use;
On which the Conquerors Image now does shine,
Not His whom it belong'd to in the Mine;
So in the mild Contentions of the Muse
(The War which Peace it self loves and persues)
So have you home to us in triumph brought,
This Cargazon of Spain with Treasures fraught,
You have not basely gotten it by stealth,
Nor by Translation borrow'd all its wealth,
But by a pow'rful Spirit made it your own
Metal before, Money by you 'tis grown.
'Tis currant now, by your adorning it
With the fair stamp of your victorious wit:

But though we praise this voyage of your Mind,
And though our selves enricht by it we find,
We 're not contented yet, because we know
What greater stores at home within it grow;
We 've seen how well you forrain Oars refine,
Produce the Gold of your own Nobler Mine.

441

The world shall then our Native plenty view,
And fetch materials for their wit from you,
They all shall watch the travails of your Pen,
And Spain on you shall make Reprisals then.

On the death of Mrs. Katherine Philips.

[[1.]]

Cruel disease! Ah, could it not suffice
Thy old and constant spight to exercise
Against the gentlest and the fairest Sex,
Which still thy Depredations most do vex?
Where stil thy Malice most of all
(Thy Malice or thy Lust) does on the fairest fall?
And in them most assault the fairest place,
The Throne of Empress Beauty, ev'n the Face?
There was enough of that here to asswage,
(One would have thought) either thy Lust or Rage,
Was't not enough, when thou, prophane Disease,
Didst on this Glorious Temple seize.
Was't not enough, like a wild Zealot, there,
All the rich outward Ornaments to tear,
Deface the innocent pride of beauteous Images?
Was't not enough thus rudely to defile
But thou must quite destroy the goodly Pile?
And thy unbounded Sacriledge commit
On th' inward Holiest Holy of her Wit?
Cruel disease! There thou mistook'st thy power;
No Mine of Death can that devour,
On her embalmed Name it will abide
An everlasting Pyramide,
As high as Heav'n the top, as Earth, the Basis wide.

2.

All Ages past, record, all Countreys now,
In various kinds such equal Beauties show,
That ev'n Judge Paris would not know
On whom the Golden Apple to bestow,
Though Goddesses to' his sentence did submit
Women and Lovers would appeal from it:

442

Nor durst he say, Of all the Female race,
This is the Sovereign Face.
And some (though these be of a kind that's Rare,
That's much, ah, much less frequent then the Fair)
So equally renown'd for Virtue are,
That it the Mother of the Gods might pose,
When the best Woman for her guide she chose.
But if Apollo should design
A Woman Laureat to make,
Without dispute he would Orinda take,
Though Sappho and the famous Nine
Stood by, and did repine.
To be a Princess or a Queen
Is Great; but 'tis a Greatness always seen;
The World did never but two Women know,
Who, one by fraud, th' other by with did rise
To the two tops of Spiritual Dignities,
One Female Pope of old, one Female Poet now.

3.

Of Female Poets who had names of old
Nothing is shown, but only Told,
And all we hear of them perhaps may be
Male-Flatt'ry only, and Male-Poetry.
Few minutes did their Beauties Lightning waste,
The Thunder of their voice did longer last,
But that too soon was past.
The certain proofs of our Orinda's wit,
In her own lasting Characters are writ,
And they will long my praise of them survive,
Though long perhaps too that may live.
The Trade of Glory mannag'd by the Pen
Though great it be, and every where is found
Does bring in but small profit to us Men;
'Tis by the number of the sharers drown'd.
Orinda on the Female coasts of Fame,
Ingrosses all the Goods of a Poetique Name.
She does no Partner with her see,
Does all the business there alone, which we
Are forc'd to carry on by a whole Company.

443

4.

But Wit's like a Luxurian[t] Vine;
Unless to Virtue's prop it joyn,
Firm and Erect towards Heaven bound;
Though it with beauteous Leaves and pleasant Fruit be crown'd,
It lies deform'd, and rotting on the Ground.
Now Shame and Blushes on us all,
Who our own Sex Superior call!
Orinda does our boasting Sex out-do,
Not in Wit only, but in Virtue too.
She does above our best Examples rise,
In Hate of Vice, and scorn of Vanities.
Never did spirit of the Manly make,
And dipt all o're in Learnings Sacred Lake,
A temper more Invulnerable take.
No violent Passion could an entrance find,
Into the tender Goodness of her Mind
Through walls of Stone those furious Bullets may
Force their impetuous way
When her soft Brest they hit, powerless and dead they lay.

5.

The Fame of Friendship which so long had told
Of three or four illustrious Names of old,
Till hoarse and weary with the tale she grew
Rejoyces now t' have got a new,
A new, and more surprizing story,
Of fair Leucasias and Orindas Glory.
As when a prudent Man does once perceive
That in some Forrain Countrey he must live,
The Language and the Manners he does strive
To understand and practise here,
That he may come, no stranger there
So well Orinda did her self prepare
In this much different Clime for her remove
To the glad World of Poetry and Love.

444

Hymn. To light.

1

First born of Chaos, who so fair didst come
From the old Negro's darksome womb!
Which when it saw the lovely Child,
The melancholly Mass put on kind looks and smil'd,

2

Thou Tide of Glory which no Rest dost know,
But ever Ebb, and ever Flow!
Thou Golden shower of a true Jove!
Who does in thee descend, and Heav'n to Earth make Love!

3

Hail active Natures watchful Life and Health!
Her Joy, her Ornament, and Wealth!
Hail to thy Husband Heat, and Thee!
Thou the worlds beauteous Bride, the lusty Bridegroom He!

4

Say from what Golden Quivers of the Sky,
Do all thy winged Arrows fly?
Swiftness and Power by Birth are thine:
From thy Great Sire they came, thy Sire the word Divine.

5

'Tis, I believe, this Archery to show,
That so much cost in Colours thou,
And skill in Painting dost bestow,
Upon thy ancient Arms, the Gawdy Heav'nly Bow.

6

Swift as light Thoughts their empty Carriere run,
Thy Race is finisht, when begun,
Let a Post-Angel start with Thee,
And Thou the Goal of Earth shalt reach as soon as He:

445

7

Thou in the Moons bright Chariot proud and gay,
Dost thy bright wood of Stars survay;
And all the year dost with thee bring
Of thousand flowry Lights thine own Nocturnal Spring.

8

Thou Scythian-like dost round thy Lands above
The Suns gilt Tent for ever move,
And still as thou in pomp dost go
The shining Pageants of the World attend thy show.

9

Nor amidst all these Triumphs dost thou scorn
The humble Glow-worms to adorn,
And with those living spangles gild,
(O Greatness without Pride!) the Bushes of the Field.

10

Night, and her ugly Subjects thou dost fright,
And sleep, the lazy Owl of Night;
Asham'd and fearful to appear
They skreen their horrid shapes with the black Hemisphere.

11

With 'em there hasts, and wildly takes the Alarm,
Of painted Dreams, a busie swarm,
At the first opening of thine eye,
The various Clusters break, the antick Atomes fly.

12

The guilty Serpents, and obscener Beasts
Creep conscious to their secret rests:
Nature to thee does reverence pay,
Ill Omens, and ill Sights removes out of thy way.

13

At thy appearance, Grief it self is said,
To shake his Wings, and rowse his Head.
And cloudy care has often took
A gentle beamy Smile reflected from thy Look.

446

14

At thy appearance, Fear it self grows bold;
Thy Sun-shine melts away his Cold.
Encourag'd at the sight of Thee,
To the cheek Colour comes, and firmness to the knee.

15

Even Lust the Master of a hardned Face,
Blushes if thou beest in the place,
To darkness' Curtains he retires,
In Sympathizing Night he rowls his smoaky Fires.

16

When, Goddess, thou liftst up thy wakened Head,
Out of the Mornings purple bed,
Thy Quire of Birds about thee play,
And all the joyful world salutes the rising day.

17

The Ghosts, and Monster Spirits, that did presume
A Bodies Priv'lege to assume,
Vanish again invisibly,
And Bodies gain agen their visibility.

18

All the Worlds bravery that delights our Eyes
Is but thy sev'ral Liveries,
Thou the Rich Dy on them bestowest,
Thy nimble Pencil Paints this Landskape as thou go'st.

19

A Crimson Garment in the Rose thou wear'st;
A Crown of studded Gold thou bear'st,
The Virgin Lillies in their White,
Are clad but with the Lawn of almost Naked Light.

20

The Violet, springs little Infant, stands,
Girt in thy purple Swadling-bands:
On the fair Tulip thou dost dote;
Thou cloath'st it in a gay and party-colour'd Coat.

447

21

With Flame condenst thou dost the Jewels fix,
And solid Colours in it mix:
Flora her self envyes to see
Flowers fairer then her own, and durable as she.

22

Ah, Goddess! would thou could'st thy hand withhold,
And be less Liberall to Gold;
Didst thou less value to it give,
Of how much care (alas) might'st thou poor Man relieve!

23

To me the Sun is more delightful farr,
And all fair Dayes much fairer are.
But few, ah wondrous few there be,
Who do not Gold preferr, O Goddess, ev'n to Thee.

24

Through the soft wayes of Heaven, and Air, and Sea,
Which open all their Pores to Thee;
Like a cleer River thou dost glide,
And with thy Living Stream through the close Channels slide.

25

But where firm Bodies thy free course oppose,
Gently thy source the Land oreflowes;
Takes there possession, and does make,
Of Colours mingled, Light, a thick and standing Lake.

26

But the vast Ocean of unbounded Day
In th' Empyræan Heaven does stay.
Thy Rivers, Lakes, and Springs below
From thence took first their Rise, thither at last must Flow.

448

To the Royal Society.

1.

Philosophy the great and only Heir
Of all that Human Knowledge which has bin
Unforfeited by Mans rebellious Sin,
Though full of years He do appear,
(Philosophy, I say, and call it, He,
For whatso'ere the Painters Fancy be,
It a Male-virtue seemes to me)
Has still been kept in Nonage till of late,
Nor manag'd or enjoy'd his vast Estate:
Three or four thousand years one would have thought,
To ripeness and perfection might have brought
A Science so well bred and nurst,
And of such hopeful parts too at the first.
But, oh, the Guardians and the Tutors then,
(Some negligent, and some ambitious men)
Would ne're consent to set him Free,
Or his own Natural Powers to let him see,
Lest that should put an end to their Autoritie.

2.

That his own business he might quite forget,
They' amus'd him with the sports of wanton Wit,
With the Desserts of Poetry they fed him,
In stead of solid meats t' encrease his force;
In stead of vigorous exercise they led him
Into the pleasant Labyrinths of ever-fresh Discourse:
In stead of carrying him to see
The Riches which doe hoorded for him lie
In Natures endless Treasurie,
They chose his Eye to entertain
(His curious but not covetous Eye)
With painted Scenes, and Pageants of the Brain.
Some few exalted Spirits this latter Age has shown,
That labour'd to assert the Liberty
(From Guardians, who were now Usurpers grown)
Of this old Minor still, Captiv'd Philosophy;

449

But 'twas Rebellion call'd to fight
For such a long-oppressed Right.
Bacon at last, a mighty Man, arose
Whom a wise King and Nature chose
Lord Chancellour of both their Lawes,
And boldly undertook the injur'd Pupils cause.

3.

Autority, which did a Body boast,
Though 'twas but Air condens'd, and stalk'd about,
Like some old Giants more Gigantic Ghost,
To terrifie the Learned Rout
With the plain Magick of true Reasons Light,
He chac'd out of our sight,
Nor suffer'd Living Men to be misled
By the vain shadows of the Dead:
To Graves, from whence it rose, the conquer'd Phantome fled;
He broke that Monstrous God which stood
In midst of th' Orchard, and the whole did claim,
Which with a useless Sith of Wood,
And something else not worth a name,
(Both vast for shew, yet neither fit
Or to Defend, or to Beget;
Ridiculous and senceless Terrors!) made
Children and superstitious Men afraid.
The Orchard's open now, and free;
Bacon has broke that Scar-crow Deitie;
Come, enter, all that will,
Behold the rip'ned Fruit, come gather now your Fill.
Yet still, methinks, we fain would be
Catching at the Forbidden Tree,
We would be like the Deitie,
When Truth and Falshood, Good and Evil, we
Without the Sences aid within our selves would see;
For 'tis God only who can find
All Nature in his Mind.

4.

From Words, which are but Pictures of the Thought,
Though we our Thoughts from them perversly drew)

450

To things, the Minds right Object, he it brought,
Like foolish Birds to painted Grapes we flew;
He sought and gather'd for our use the True;
And when on heaps the chosen Bunches lay,
He prest them wisely the Mechanick way,
Till all their juyce did in one Vessel joyn,
Ferment into a Nourishment Divine,
The thirsty Souls refreshing Wine.
Who to the life an exact Piece would make,
Must not from others Work a Copy take;
No, not from Rubens or Vandike;
Much less content himself to make it like
Th' Idæas and the Images which lie
In his own Fancy, or his Memory.
No, he before his sight must place
The Natural and Living Face;
The real object must command
Each Judgment of his Eye, and Motion of his Hand.

5.

From these and all long Errors of the way,
In which our wandring Prædecessors went,
And like th' old Hebrews many years did stray
In Desarts but of small extent,
Bacon, like Moses, led us forth at last,
The barren Wilderness he past,
Did on the very Border stand
Of the blest promis'd Land,
And from the Mountains Top of his Exalted Wit,
Saw it himself, and shew'd us it.
But Life did never to one Man allow
Time to Discover Worlds, and Conquer too;
Nor can so short a Line sufficient be
To fadome the vast depths of Natures Sea:
The work he did we ought t' admire,
And were unjust if we should more require
From his few years, divided 'twixt th' Excess
Of low Affliction, and high Happiness.
For who on things remote can fix his sight,
That's alwayes in a Triumph, or a Fight?

451

6.

From you, great Champions, we expect to get
These spacious Countries but discover'd yet;
Countries where yet in stead of Nature, we
Her Images and Idols worship'd see:
These large and wealthy Regions to subdue,
Though Learning has whole Armies at command,
Quarter'd about in every Land,
A better Troop she ne're together drew.
Methinks, like Gideon's little Band,
God with Design has pickt out you,
To do these noble Wonders by a Few:
When the whole Host he saw, They are (said he)
Too many to O'rcome for Me;
And now he chuses out his Men,
Much in the way that he did then:
Not those many whom he found
Idely extended on the ground,
To drink with their dejected head
The Stream just so as by their Mouths it fled:
No, but those Few who took the waters up,
And made of their laborious Hands the Cup.

7.

Thus you prepar'd; and in the glorious Fight
Their wondrous pattern too you take:
Their old and empty Pitchers first they brake,
And with their Hands then lifted up the Light.
Io! Sound too the Trumpets here!
Already your victorious Lights appear;
New Scenes of Heaven already we espy,
And Crowds of golden Worlds on high;
Which from the spacious Plains of Earth and Sea;
Could never yet discover'd be
By Sailers or Chaldæans watchful Eye.
Natures great Workes no distance can obscure,
No smalness her near Objects can secure
Y' have taught the curious Sight to press
Into the privatest recess
Of her imperceptible Littleness.

452

Y' have learn'd to Read her smallest Hand,
And well begun her deepest Sense to Understand.

8.

Mischief and true Dishonour fall on those
Who would to laughter or to scorn expose
So Virtuous and so Noble a Design,
So Human for its Use, for Knowledge so Divine.
The things which these proud men despise, and call
Impertinent, and vain, and small,
Those smallest things of Nature let me know,
Rather than all their greatest Actions Doe.
Whoever would Deposed Truth advance
Into the Throne usurp'd from it,
Must feel at first the Blows of Ignorance,
And the sharp Points of Envious Wit.
So when by various turns of the Celestial Dance,
In many thousand years
A Star, so long unknown, appears,
Though Heaven it self more beauteous by it grow,
It troubles and alarms the World below,
Does to the Wise a Star, to Fools a Meteor show.

9.

With Courage and Success you the bold work begin;
Your Cradle has not Idle bin:
None e're but Hercules and you could be
At five years Age worthy a History.
And ne're did Fortune better yet
Th' Historian to the Story fit:
As you from all Old Errors free
And purge the Body of Philosophy;
So from all Modern Folies He
Has vindicated Eloquence and Wit.
His candid Stile like a clean Stream does slide,
And his bright Fancy all the way
Does like the Sun-shine in it play;
It does like Thames, the best of Rivers, glide,
Where the God does not rudely overturn,
But gently pour the Crystal Urn,

453

And with judicious hand does the whole Current Guide.
T' has all the Beauties Nature can impart,
And all the comely Dress without the paint of Art.

Upon the Chair made out of Sir Francis Drakes ship, Presented to the University Library in Oxford, by John Davis of Deptford, Esquire.

To this great Ship which round the Globe has run,
And matcht in Race the Chariot of the Sun,
This Pythagorean Ship (for it may claim
Without presumption so deserv'd a Name,
By knowledge once and transformation now)
In her New Shape this sacred Port allow.
Drake and his Ship could not have wish'd from Fate,
A more blest Station, or more blest Estate.
For (Lo!) a Seat of endless Rest is given,
To her in Oxford, and to him in Heaven.