University of Virginia Library

V. PART V.

THE FORT OR CASTLE OF HOPE.

Hope hearing Doubt did a great Army raise
Upon the Castle, where she was, to Seize,
For her Defence she made that Castle strong,
Plac'd Pieces of Ordnance the VVall along;
And Bulwarks Built at every Corners end,
A Curtain long the Middle did Defend;
Two Faces made a Point, whence Canons play,

Bullets shot from two Bulwarks upon the Enemy make a Point.

Two Points a Third, to stop the Enemies way;
No Wing too Short, no Curtain was too Long,
No Point too Sharp, but Blunt to make them Strong;
And round the Castle, Enemies out to keep,
A Ditch was Digg'd, which was both wide and deep;
Bridges were made to Draw, or let at Length,
The Gates had Iron Barrs of wondrous Strength;
Souldiers upon the Curtains-Line did stand,
And each did hold a Musket in his Hand.
When Hope had Order'd all about her Fort,
Then She did call a Council to her Court:
I hear, said She, that Doubt a Warr will make,
And bring great Force this Castle for to take;
Wherefore, my Friends, Provision must be sought,
And first of all good Store of Victuals bought;
Hunger doth lose more Forts than Force doth win;
Then must we with the Stomack first begin;
The next is Arms, the Body for to Guard,
Those that Unarmed are, are soon'st afear'd:
For to small use we make a Ditch or Wall,
Without Arm'd men, to keep that Wall withall.
Shall we neglect Mens Lives and all their Strength,
More than a Wall, that may be broke at Length?
For Ammunitions, that mighty Power,
And Death's Engines, Armies and Towns Devour;
Yet are they of no Use, unless Mankind
Have Strength, Skill, Will, to use them as Design'd;
'Tis Wisdome to advise what ways are best
Us to Defend, that we be not Opprest.
Then Expectation being Gray with Age,
Adviseth Hope by no means to ingage
Too near her Castle, but let that be free;
Draw out a Line about the Town, said she,
There make some Works, Souldiers intrench therein;
Let not the Warrs close at your Gates begin.
With that Desire, though Young, yet wisely spake;
Alas, said she, Doubt that small Line will take,
So great a Compass will your Strength divide,
A Body weak may break through any Side;
Besides the Souldiers will more Careless be,
When they a Rescue strong behind them see:
But in the Castle, where lies all their Good,
There they will Fight to the last Drop of Blood.

Doubts Assault, and Hopes Defence.

Doubt round the Fort of Hope intrenchcd lay,
Stopt all Provisions that should pass that way,
Digging forth Earth to raise up Rampiers high,
Against Hopes Curtains did their Canons lye;
The Line being long, it seem'd the weakest place,
Or else to Batter down the Frontier's Face;
There Pioniers did Dig a Mine to Spring,
Balls and Granadoes into th'Fort did fling;
Rams they did place to beat their Walls down flat,
VVith many Engines more as good as that:
But when Doubt Breaches made in any part,
Hopes Industry soon clos'd it up with Art;
Yet Doubt resolved fierce Assaults to make,
And did set Ladders up the Fort to take;
When Hope saw this, great Stones and Weights down flung,
VVhich many Kill'd, as they on Ladders hung;
Many did fall, and in the Ditch did lye,
But then fresh Men did strait their place supply;
Upon the Walls of Hope many lay Dead,
And those that Fought did on their Bodies tread:
Thus Various Fortune on each Side did fall,
And Death was th'only Conquerour of all.

A Battel between Courage and Prudence.

Courage against Prudence a Warr did make,
For Rashness, her Foe's, but his Favourit's sake;
For Rashness 'gainst Queen Prudence had a Spight,
And did perswade Great Courage for to Fight;
Then Courage rais'd an Army Vast and Great,
Which for their Numbers Tamberlain might beat;
Cloath'd all in Glist'ring Coats which made a show,

Vanity.

And Tossing Feathers which their Pride did blow;

Pride.

Such Fiery Horses Men could hardly Wield,

Ambition.

And in this Equipage they took the Field;
Loud Noise spoke of this Army every where,

Fame.

Untill at last it came to Prudence Ear;
Prudence a Councel call'd of all the Wise,
And Ag'd Experience, Her to advise;
Then Industry was call'd, which close did wait,
And Orders had to raise an Army strait;
But out, alas! her Kingdome was so Small,
That scarce an Army could be Rais'd of all;
At last they did about ten Thousand get,
And Care imployed was their Arms to fit;
Discipline train'd each Man, taught and Command,
How they should Move, and in what Posture stand;
Great store of Victuals Prudence did provide,
And Ammunition of all Sorts beside.
The Foot were Cloath'd in Coarse yet warm array,
Their Wages small, yet had they constant Pay;
Well-armed they were all, Breast, Back, and Pot,
Not for to Tyre them, but to keep out Shot;
Each had their Muskets, Pikes, and Banners right,
That nothing might be wanting for to Fight;
The Cavalry was Armed as in Frocks,
Gauntlets they had, and Pistols with Fire-locks,
Swords by their Sides, and at their Saddle Bow
Hung Pole-axes, to strike and give a Blow;
Horses they had, not Pamper'd in a Stable,
But from the Plow, which were both strong and able
For a long March, or to endure a Shock,
For they stood firm and quiet as a Rock,
Not starting, though the Guns shot in their Face,
But, as they're Guided, went from place to place;
Prudence for Men and Horses did provide
Physicians, Surgeons, Farriers, and Smiths beside,
Wagons and Carts all Luggages to bear,
That none might want when in the Field they were;
Strict Order she did give to every one,
Lest through mistake some wrong there might be done;
And as they March'd Scouts every way did go,
To bring Intelligence where lay the Foe;
And when the Army staid, some rest to take,
Prudence had Care what Sentinels to make;
Men that were Watchfull, full of Industry,
Not such as are Debaucht and Lazy lye;
For Armies oft by Negligence are lost,
Which, had they Fought might of their Valour boast:
But Prudence, she with Care still had an Eye,
That every one had Match and Powder by;
Besides, through a wise Care, and not afraid,
She always lay Intrenched where she stay'd:
At last the Armies both drew near in Sight,
Then both began to Order for their Fight;
Courage, his Army was so Vast and Great,
As they did Scorn the Enemy when they met;
Courage did many a Scornfull message send,
But Prudence still made Patience by her stand;
Prudence did call to Doubt for his advice,
But in his Answers he was very Nice;
Hope, of that Army great, did make but Light,
Perswaded Prudence by all means to Fight;
For why, said Hope, they do us so Despise,
That they grow Careless, Errour blinds their Eyes,
VVhereby we may such great advantage make,
As we may win and many Prisoners take.
Then Prudence set her Army in array,
Chusing the Roman Custom and their way;
In Bodies Small her Army she did part,
In Mollops, which was done with Care and Art;
Ten in a Rank, and sev'n Files deep they were,
Between each part a Lane of Ground lay bare,
For Single and Loose Men about to run,
To Skirmish first before the Fight begun.
The Battel Order'd, in three Parts was set,
The next supplied, when the first Part was beat;
And Prudence Rode about from Rank to Rank,
Taking great Care to Strengthen well the Flank;
Prudence the Van did Lead, Hope the right Wing,
Patience the Left, and Doubt the Rear did bring;
The Enemy's Army feircely up did Ride,
As thinking presently them to Divide;
But they were much Deceiv'd, for when they met,
They saw an Army small, whose Force was great;
Then did they Fight, but Courage bore up high;
For though the worst he had, he Scorn'd to fly.

A Description of the Fight.

Some with sharp Swords, to tell, O most accurst!
Were above half into their Bodies thrust,
From whence fresh Streams of Blood along did run
Unto the Hilts, and there lay Clodded on;
Some, their Legs Dangling by the Nervous strings,
And Shoulders Cut hung Loose like flying wings;
Heads here were Cleft in pieces, Brains lay Masht,
And all their Faces into Slices hasht;
Brains only in the Pia-mater thin,
Did Quivering lye within that little Skin,
Their Sculs all broke and into pieces burst,
By Horses Hoofs and Chariot Wheels were crusht;
Others, their Heads did lye on their own Laps,
And some again half Cut lay on their Paps;
Some thrust their Tongues out of their Mouths at length,
For why? the Strings were Cut that gave them strength;
Their Eyes did Stare, their Lids were Open wide,
For the small Nerves were Shrunk on every Side;
In some again those Glassie Balls hung by
Small slender Strings, as Chains, to tye the Eye,
Wch Strings when broke, the Eyes fell Trundling round,
And then the Film was broke upon the Ground;
In Death their Teeth strong set, their Lips were bare,
Which Grinning seem'd as if they angry were;
Their Hair upon their Eyes in Clodded gore
So wildly Spred, as ne're it did before;
With Frowns their Fore-heads did in Furrows lye,
As Graves, their Foes to Bury, when they Dye;
Their Spongy Lungs heav'd up through Pangs of Death,
With Pain and Difficulty fetch'd short Breath;
Some Grasping hard their Hands through pain provok'd,
Because the ratling Flegm their Throats had Choak'd;
Their Bodies now Bow'd up, then down did fall
For want of Strength to make them stand withall;
Some Staggering on their Leggs did feebly stand,
Or Leaning on their Sword with either hand,
Where on the Pummel did their Breast rely,
More Griev'd they could not Fight, than for to Dye;
Their hollow Eyes sunk deep into their Brain,
And Hard-fetch'd Groans did from each Heart-string strain;
Their Knees pull'd up lest th'Bowels out should come,
But all too little, through their Blood they Swom;
Guts did, like Sausages, their Bodies twine,
Or like the spreading Plant, or wreathing Vine;
Their restless Heads not knowing how to lye,
Through grievous Pains did quickly wish to Dye,
Rowling from off their Back upon their Belly,
Did Tumble in their Blood as thick as Gelly,
And Gasping lay with short Breaths, and constraint,
With Cold sweat drops upon their Faces faint,
Heaving their Dull pale Eye-balls up did look,
As if through Pain, not Hate, the World forsook;
Some Chilly Cold, as Shivering Agues are,
Some Burning Hot, as in high Feavers were;
Some Spewing Blood from Stomacks that are Sick,
Through parching Heat their Tongue to th'Roof did stick;
Their Bodies with loud Groans their Souls call'd back,
While smarting Wounds did set them on the wrack,
And on their Arms their Faces lay across,
As if in Death they were asham'd of Loss;
Some Dying lay like Flame whose Oyl is spent,
Or Fire that's Smother'd out and wanteth Vent;
And some did fall like strong and hardy Oaks,
Which are Hewn down with Feirce and Cruel stroaks;
Their Limbs chopt Small as Wood for Fire to burn,
Or Carved, or Chipt out for Joyners turn;
Some underneath their Horses Bellies flung,
Some by the Heels in their own Stirrups hung;
Others their Heads and Necks being all awry,
Did on their Horses Mains, as Pillows lye;
Some in a Careless Garb lay on the Ground,
Despis'd Life, since in Death is Honour found;
Some call'd for Death, and some did Life desire,
Some Car'd not, some did Burials require;
Some beat their Breasts as if they'd done some Ill,
Some burn'd with hot Revenge, their Foes to Kill;
Some lay as if to hear the Trumpet sound,
And others did lye Sprawling on the Ground;
Some wish'd their Death's Revenge upon their Foe,
Some did with Dying Eyes their Friends not know;
Some would their Parents, some their Children see,
Others wish'd Life, some Difference to agree:
But Lovers with a Soft and Panting Heart,
Did wish their Mistress at their Sad depart
To shut their Eyes, their gaping Wounds to close,
VVhose Dying Spirit to their Mistress goes;
Foes Hands into each others VVounds thrust wide,
As if their Hearts they'ld pull out from each Side;
Some Friends in dear Imbracements closely twin'd,
By their Affections strong in Death were Joyn'd;
Some wish'd to Live, yet long'd for Death through Pain,
Others Dyed Grieving that their Foe's not Slain;
Some did Repent what they so Rash had done,
And wish'd the Battel were to be begun;
Some gently Sinking by a Fainting fall,
Yield quietly to Death when he did call;
Some Drunk with Death not able were to stand,
But Reeling fell, struck down by Death's Cold hand;
Some Lingred long, as Lovers, when they must
Part, some did willing yield to Fate their Dust,
And sweetly lay as if Asleep at Night;
Some Stern, as if new Battels they would Fight,
Some softly Murm'ring like a Bubbling stream,
Did sweetly Smile in Death, as in a Dream;
Their Souls with Soft-breath'd Sighs to Heav'n did fly,
To Live with th'Gods above the Starry Sky:
Thus several Noises through the Air did Ring,
And several Postures Death to Men did bring;
Where some did Dye Outragious in Despair,
Others so Gentle as without all fear.
High Hills with Heaps of Bodies there were Grown,
And Hair as Grass, and Teeth as Seed were Sown;
Their Heads and Heels Horsemen together lay,
Smother'd to Death which could not get away;
Their Arms lay Hack'd, and all were Thrown about,
And Targets full of Holes, that kept Death out;
Their Flags which first like moving Woods did show,
On whose Tops various Colours seem'd to Grow,
As if Flow'rs from high Trees had Sprouted out,
Or in the open Air were strew'd about,
VVere now all fall'n and into Pieces torn,
Their Mottoes Raz'd which did their Sides adorn;
Some did like winding Sheets their Bearers shroud,
VVhich was an Honour fit to make Death proud;
Some were like Virgins, which their Eyes cast Low
Through Shamefac'tness, though they no fault did know,
Nor Guilty were, but overcome with Strength,
Not by their own Consent, but forc'd at Length:
For Courage, like to Chastity, we find
Is forc'd to lay down Arms, though 'gainst its Mind;
Gauntlets and Corslets, Saddles lay here and there,
Flags, Pikes, Drums, Guns were scatter'd every where,
And Plumes of Feathers which wav'd with the Wind,
And proudly Toss'd, like to some haughty Mind,
Just like Prosperity when Over-born,
Now Humbly lay, and were in Pieces torn;
Horses, which proudly Praunc'd, when Back'd they were
By Men of Courage, never knowing Fear,
Now Over-power'd lay by strong Assault,
And lost by Force, 'twas not their Courage fault;
For they on Death's dull Face could Boldly stare,
Since Life they Hate, lest they Victorious were;
Dead Horses lay on th'Backs, their Heels up flung,
Their Eys were sunk, Heads turn'd, their Jaws down hung;
Their thick Curl'd Manes wch grew down to the Ground,
Or by their Masters in fine Ribbons bound,
Were Torn half off, or Sing'd by Fire from Guns,
Or Snarled in a Knot which backward runs;
Their Nostrils wide from whence thick Smoak out-went,
Which Vapour from their hot stout Hearts was sent,
Their Sleek bright Hair o'th' Skin like Coats of Mail,
And their feirce Courage which could nothing quail,
All lay in Death, by Fortune they were cast,
And Nature to new Forms went on in haste;
For neither Beauty, Strength, nor nimble Feet,
Can serve in Death, all Beasts alike there meet.
Thus Horse and Man in several Postures lies,
With several Pains in several Places Dyes!
When Horses Dye they know no reason why;
But Men do Venture Life for Vain-glory;
Smoak from their Blood into Red Clouds did rise,
Which Flash't like Lightning in all Living Eyes;
Their Groans into the middle Region went,
And Echoes did the Air like Thunder rent;
From Sighs Winds rarified such Gusts did blow,
As if they 'scended from the Shades below;
Men strive to Dye, to make their Names to Live,
When Gods no Certainty to Fame will give.

A Battel between Honour and Dishonour.

Honour with Grief and Sorrow did complain,
How all her Sons, her Servants all were Slain,
And none was left but those that did her Slight,
And in Rebellion did against her Fight;
And how this Age did Dirt upon her throw,
Lest she the Baseness of the next should show:
Thus Mourned Honour, Veil'd in Clouds of Night,
When heretofore her Garments were of Light;
Her Crown was Laurel, wreath'd with Fancy's Tire,
Her Scepter, Mars his Sword, made Foes retire;
Pallas's Head-piece did as her Foot-stool stand,
By whose Support she Rose and did Command;
And thus did Honour live with great Applause,
All did Obey Her, none did Break her Laws:
But now Dishonour Arm'd 'gainst her doth Rise,
And all her Laws she utterly Denies.
Then Honour fearing she should be surpriz'd,
And by her Council being well advis'd,
Did raise an Army to maintain her Right,
Resolv'd she was, Dishonour for to Fight;
Courage the Van, Wisdome and Wit each Wing
Did Lead, the Rear Fidelity did bring;
Invention doth th'Artillery Command,
Patience and Constancy as Sent'nels stand;
Sciences Pioniers are of great Skil,
Which undermine Towns, Castles, when they will,
And Trenches make, where Souldiers safely Sleep,
And for a Guard a watchfull Eye do keep:
Arts like Dragoons do serve on Foot and Horse,
To Skirmish, or an En'my to Inforce;
The Colours high doth Resolution bear,
And with the Bag and Baggage standeth Care;
Prudence, as Quarter-master, fits each place,
Who Disobeys is Punish'd with Disgrace;
Industry, as Purvey'r, provides the Meat,
And Temp'rance gives Proportions out to Eat;
Scout-master, Truth, Intelligence doth give,
By which the Army doth in safety Live;
The Drum is Faith, Braced with Reasons clear,
The Sticks that Beat thereon are Hope and Fear;
Trumpeters, Oratours, Sound loud and high,
And call to Horse when th'Enemy draws nigh;
The Treas'rer, Gratitude, doth th'Army pay,
Gen'rosity, as General, Leads the way.
When this Army was in Battalio set,
Dishonour with her Army near did get;
Partiality did Lead the Van awry,
And Treachery the Rear, which came not nigh;
The left Wing order'd Perjury that Day,
Unthankfulness on th'Right did bear the Sway;
Suspicion was the Scout to search the way,
And Envy close in Ambuscado lay;
Revenge, as Canoneer, did take the Aim,
But mist the Mark, which made him high Exclame;
Envy and Malice were two Engineers,
Which Subtilty had Practis'd many Years:
Their Drum was Ignorance, Stupidity
Was one Stick, th'other was Obstinacy;
And Brac'd it was with Rudeness, which sounds Harsh
On Strings of Wilfulness that's ever Rash.

A Battel between King Oberon and the Pigmies.

King Oberon and the Pigmies Tall and Stout,
Did go to Warr, the Cause was Just no doubt:
For Pigmie King out of his Kingdome brought
His People, and another Kingdome sought;
Like Goths and Vandals they did Range about
With Force, to find another Kingdome out;
At last into the Fairy-Land they went,
For to that Fertil place their Hearts were bent;
This is the place, said they, where Pleasures flow,
And where Delight, like Flow'rs on Banks, doth grow;
Here let us Pitch, and try if Fortune will
Joyn with our Courage, all our Foes to Kill:
Then on they went, and Plunder'd every where;
The Fairies all ran Crying in great fear,
And Fire on all their Beacons placed high,
Which Warning is to give when Danger's nigh;
Whereat King Oberon a great Warr prepar'd,
Which made his Queen and all his Court afear'd;
His Council Grave and Wise he strait did call,
VVhich came with Formal, Busie Faces all;
And every one did Speak their Mind full free,
Disputing much, at last all did agree;
In Warr, said they, 'tis better that we Dye,
Than to be Slaves unto our Enemy:
Then said the King, an Army we must Raise,
In which I'l Dye, said he, or win the Bays:
Strait Officers of all Degrees were made,
To Lead, and Rule, Encourage and Perswade;
And thus they Murster'd all their Army stout,
To meet their Enemy, and to Beat them out:
VVell Arm'd they were, and put in good Array,
Which made them Fight with Courage all that Day;
Their Trumpets were made of small Silver wire,
Calling the Horse to Charge, or to Retire;
These Horses for Warr were Grashoppers large,
On which they Rid, and bravely did Discharge;
Their Saddles were of a Velvet Peach-skin,
Their Bridles were small Strings which Spiders Spin;
Besides, their Stirrups, which their Feet in staid,
Of a green Rush round like a Ring were made;
Targets of little Cockle-shells they had,
And for their Sword serv'd a Rosemary blade;
Their Flags of Colour'd Flow'rs shew'd Gloriously,
And gave sweet several Smells as they did fly:
VVhen they were Armed, as each Curasseer,
In a Beans hull, it bravely did appear;
Their Guns were Pipes of Glass, slender and small,
Their Bullets were round Seeds to Shoot withall;
Of Filbeard-skins their Drums, which they did beat,
Were made, and their Drumsticks of Straws of Wheat;
Their Van, their Rear, their Left Wing and their Right
VVere placed so, as they saw good to Fight;
Their Colours flying, and their Drums when beat,
Their Trumpets sounding, none sought a Retreat;
The Forms and Files, the Pigmies plac'd themselves,
VVere like in Figure unto Mushel-shells,
To peirce through En'mies, and give way to Friends,
Broad was the middl', and Sharp were the two ends.
But Fairies like a half Moon Fought, that so,
VVhen both Ends meet, they might Incircle th'Foe,
VVhere in the midst King Oberon Rid full brave,
For he the Honour of this Day shall have:
This Warriour in an Armour bright and strong,
As fore-most Man, his Souldiers led along;
Then spake He to them in a Temper meek,
These Enemies, said he, our Ruine seek;
Go on all you brave Born and Valiant bred,
And Fight your Enemies till they be Dead;
Let not your Foes with Scorn upbraid your Flight,
But let them see you can with Courage Fight,
And teach them what their Folly Rash hath brought
Upon themselves, when they this Kingdome sought.
But O Vain Princes! which for Glory strive,
And let poor Subjects not in Quiet Live;
Foolish Ambition sets the World on Fire,
VVhich Ruins all to Compass its Desire;
I only Fight, to keep what is my Own,
And not to Rob another Kingly Throne:
But if this Quarrel cann't decided be,
I Hand to Hand will Fight my Enemy;
VVith that he sent an Herauld stout and bold,
And to King Pigmee he this Message told,
VVhich was, King Ob'ron him a Challenge sent,
To save their Men, and much Blood to prevent,
That they two might a Duel Fight alone,
And let both Armies all the while Look on:
Then Laught King Pigmee, What's your King, said he,
That He in Duel hopes to Conquer me?
I came not here a Single Strength to try,
A Kingdome for to Win, or else to Dye;
I Prouder am my Subjects strength to show,
That by Direction they my Skil may know;
Herauld, go back, and tell your King from me,
He'l know my Strength when Pris'ner he shall be:
Then Spake he to his Men with a Voice high,
Here's none, said he, I hope, this Day will Fly;
You know, my Souldiers, we came here to Fight,
Not through Ambition, or through Envy's spight,
But we by Famine, with a Meagre Face,
Were sent about to seek a Fertil place:
Then here's a Land which needs not be Manur'd,
And we are People, not to VVork inur'd;
For we by Nature no great Pains can take,
Nor by out Sweat a Livelihood out make:
For who would Live in Pain, or Grief, or Care,
And always of his Goods would stand in Fear?
VVho Lives in Trouble, is not very Wise,
Since in the Grave there do no Troubles rise,
Then let us Fight ev'n for sweet Pleasures sake,
Or let us Dye, that we no Care may take.
Thus did the King his Souldiers Courage raise,
And in a Speech their Valour highly praise.
Then did they both in Order, Rank, and File
Prepare themselves, each other for to Spoil;
Their Horses stout, whereon they Rid i'th' Field,
Would Dye under their Burden, but not Yield;
In Capriols these Grashoppers did move,
By which their Riders Skil they soon would prove;
Some as an Air, unfit for VVarr, it Slight,
VVhose Motion swift lets not the Rider Fight,
Or take his Turns, advantages to have,
Unless by Leaping high himself to Save;
But they do Err, for in some Case 'tis good,
Though not in all, if truly understood:
VVhat's in the World, that's to all use imploy'd,
But at some Times and Seasons is deny'd?
VVater, and Fire, which are the Life of all,
Can only serve in their due Time and Call;
So some may say, this Air of Horsemanship
Is good, Heaps of Dead Men to Over-leap;
For if they Low do go upon the Ground,
Where both Dead Men, Horses, and Arms lye round,
Or else do lye in Heaps, like as a VVall,
The Horse will stumble with the Man, and fall.
But some, of Manag'd Horses, taught in measure,
Do think they are but only fit for Pleasure,
And not for VVarr, where no use for them is,
As if their Rules did make them go amiss;
But they're mistaken, for like Men they're Taught,
For to Obey their Rider as they ought,
To Stop, to Go, to Leap, to Run, and yet
Obey the Heel, the Hand, the Wand, the Bit;
Beside they're Taught their Passions to abate,
Not to be Resty with Fear, Anger, Hate,
And by Applause great Courage they have got,
That they dare go upon a Canon Shot;
Not that they Senseless into Dangers run,
For Horses Cowardly do Dangers shun,
And are so full of Fears, as they will Shake,
And will not Go, which proves their Hearts do Quake;
Besides, all Airs in Warr are very fit,
As Curvets, Demivoltoes, and Perwicet,
And going Back, and Forward, turning Round,
Side-ways, both High and Low upon the Ground;
Oft they in a Large Circle Compass take,
And then with Art a Lesser Circle make:
But Horses, that Unlearned are this way,
May March strait forth, or in one place may stay;
So Men, when they do Fight, having no Skil,
May Venture Life, but few may chance to Kill;
For 'tis not Blows and Thrusts, which do the Feat,
Or going Forward, or by a Retreat,
Man must the Centre be, his Sword the Line,
His Feet his Compass, with his Strength to joyn;
These are the Arts for Horse, and Men of Warr,
Unless with Stratagems they think to Scare,
Which shews more Wit than Courage in the Field,
So 'tis to Run away, or else to Yield.
But here the Bodies of each Army's Knit
So close, as Skin unto the Flesh doth Sit:
No Stratagems were us'd to have Men Slain,
But they did Fight upon an open Plain;
For those that use slight Stratagems in Warrs,
No Fighters are, but Cruel Murtherers:
Nor is it Bravely done, as some think 'tis,
For every petty Thief has Skil in this;
Nay, Thieves more Courage in their Actions show,
Who, if their Plots do fail, must Dye, they know;
Warriours Designs found out, they do not care,
Because no Hanging for that Act they fear:
They'l say, 'tis Different, thus Foes to use,
For Thieves by their Deceit do Friends abuse;
But 'tis all one, for Cousenage is the Thief,
And of that Order Generals are the Chief;
Fighting's the Souldiers Trade, not to Intrap,
Nor like the Fox, with Craft the Prey t'inwrap,
But Kill, or Pursue, with Swords in their Hands,
Without some Fraud, or any Treach'rous bands;
Just so Fought these Brave, Valiant Cavalliers,
As it by their unhappy End appears;
For they did Joyn, and Feirce together Fight,
Which was to all a Lamentable Sight;
Some lay upon the Ground without a Head,
Others did Gasping lye, but not quite Dead;
Their Groans were heard, and Cries of several Notes,
Some Rutling lay with thick Blood in their Throats;
Here was a Head-piece, there a Corslet thrown,
Bodies so Mangled, that none could be known;
Rivers of Blood, like to a full high Tide,
Or like a Sea, where Shipwrack'd Bodies Dy'd,
And their Laborious Breaths such Mists did raise,
It made a Cloud, which Darkned the Sun's Rays;
With several Noises, that Rebounded far,
Armies of Echoes were heard in the Air;
Here Bodies hid with Smoak, Smother'd, lay Dead,
While formless Sounds were in the Air out-spred:
Thus were they Earnest, and Active in their Fight,
As if to Kill, or Dye, were a Delight;
Here Beasts and Men both in their Blood lay masht,
As if a French Cook them had Minc'd and Hasht,
Or did their Blood unto a Gelly boyl,
That he might make a Boullion of the Spoil;
For Nature's Table several Dishes brings
By her Directions, in Transforming things.
At last the Pigmees found themselves quite Spent,
And of their Warr begun now to Repent,
Which made their King, though Little, yet at length
To call to Oberon King, to try his Strength;
Let's here, said he, our Skil and Fortunes try,
To Conquer one, or both in Graves to Lye;
Content, said Oberon King, though most unjust
You have your Self into my Kingdome thrust,
Yet will I not refuse this Offer bold,
And, if I Live, this Day will Sacred hold;
Then like two Lions, fallen out for Prey,
Encounter'd they, not Yielding any way;
Their bright, sharp Swords, with Motion quick did fly,
Like subtil Lightning in each others Eye;
King Pigmee, he was Strong, two handfulls Tall,
But Oberon King was Low and very Small,
Yet was he Dext'rous in his Skilfull Art,
And by that means struck Pigmee near the Heart,
Whose Blood ran Warm and Trickling down his Side,
That, where he stood, the Grass was Purple Dy'd;
Then Leaning on his Sword, as out of Breath,
Said to King Oberon; I have got my Death,
Grew Faint, then Sinking on the Ground did lye,
Finding his Soul would from his Body fly,
Saying, King Oberon, pray do Mercy show,
And let my Army freely from you go,
And those, that here lye Slain, pray let them have
Just Rights in Burial, and their Bones i'th' Grave,
That their free Souls in quiet Peace may Sleep,
And for this Act the Gods your Fame will keep;
I Care nor Grieve not for my own Sad fall,
But for my Subjects, that are Ruin'd all;
And in a deep fetch'd Sigh, and hollow Groan,
His Soul went forth unto a Place unknown.
When as his Souldiers heard their King was Dead,
Their Hearts did fail, yet none of them there Fled,
But to him Ran like Shuttles in a Loom,
And with their Bodies did his Corps Intomb;
For through their Loyal Breast they Digg'd their Grave,
Because their King a Monument should have;
So all did Dye, no Story yet hath shown,
That ever any Pigmees more were known:
Then did their Wives with Sighs Lament their falls,
And with their Tears did strew their Funerals,
Which Tears did mix with Blood upon the Ground,
Where Rubies since have in the Earth been found;
Their Bodies moist to Vapour Rarified,
And now in Clouds do near the Sun Reside;
When they their Grief unto Remembrance call,
Those Sullen Clouds in Showring Tears do fall;
Their Sighs are Winds, that do Blow here and there,
And all their Bodies now Transformed are.
Unhappy Battel! to Destroy a Race,
That on the Earth deserv'd the Chiefest place;
For they were Valiant, and did Love their King,
Without dispute Obey'd in every thing;
Nature did Pity much their Fortune sad,
They by Her Favour a Remembrance had:
For she their Bones did turn to Marble white,
Of which are Statues Carv'd for Man's delight,
And in some Places are as Gods Ador'd,
Where Superstition Idols doth afford:
But Oberon King there Built a Temple high,
In which he Fortune's Name did Magnifie.

The Temple of Fortune.

This Temple was Built of Cornelian Red,
To signifie that there much Blood was shed;
The Altars all were Carv'd of Aggat-stone,
And Musk-flies there were Sacrifiz'd upon;
A Priest there was, who Sung Her Praises Loud,
Whereat the People Kneel'd all in a Crowd:
For though she's Blind, and cannot clearly See,
Yet she her Hearing hath most perfectly;
The Steeple was Black, Built of Mourning Jet,
And Carved finely with many a Fret;
The Bells were Nightingals Tongues, which did Ring
As Sweetly, as they in the Spring do Sing;
Their Holy Fire was made of sweetest Spice,
And kept by Virgins young, that know no Vice;
Their Gods sometimes did they place in a Bower,
Which curiously was made of Gesamin Flower;
And all her Sacred Groves, in which she Walks,
Are set with Roses which do Grow on Stalks:
Thus in Procession Her about they bear,
And none but in Devotion cometh there:
The King and Queen did wait where She did go,
And all about sweet Incense they did Strow;
Nature did Frown, to see her so Respected,
Thought by these Honours she was much Rejected;
Wherefore, says Nature, let me take the place,
And let not Fortune Proud me thus Out-face,
When all that's Good, you do receive from me,
She is my Vassal Low, you soon shall see;
For I with Virtues do the Mind inspire,
And Cloath the Soul in Beautifull attire;
The Body equal I do make, and Strong,
The Heart with Courage, to Revenge a wrong;
I'th' Brain Invention, Wit, and Judgment lies,
Creating like a God, Ord'ring as Wise;
The Senses all as Perfectly are made,
To Hear, to See, Taste, Touch, Smell and Perswade;
I'th' Soul do Passions and Affections Live,
Nothing is there but what my Pow'r doth give,
All which to Mutability I throw,
And She doth in perpetual Motion go:
Thus all Invention from my Power comes;
For Arts in Men are but by Scraps and Crums;
So Fate and Fortune are my Handmaids sure,
For what they do shall never long endure;
And I throughout the World do make things Range,
And Constant am in nothing but in Change;
Then let your Worship of Blind Fortune fall,
Or else shall my Displeasure Bury all.
But false Devotion unto Men is Sweet,
While Truth's Kickt out, and Trodden under Feet;
Their Minds do Ebb and Flow just like the Tide,
And what is to be done is Cast aside:
This makes that Men are never in the way,
But wander up and down like Sheep astray.
O wretched Man! that can in Peace not be;
For with himself he cannot well agree;
Sometimes he Hates, what he before did prove,
And in a constant Course doth never move;
Nor to himself, nor God, who's Good, can stay,
But always seeking is some unknown way;
No sad Example he by Warning takes,
If none will do him hurt, He mischief makes;
As if afraid in Happiness to Live,
He to himself a deadly Wound will give.
But why do I Complain that Man is Bad,
Since what he has, or is, from me he had?
Not only Man, the World, but Gods also,
And nothing Greater than my Self I know;
All this did make them take High Fortune down,
And in Her Room they did Great Nature Crown.

A Battel between Life and Death.

Of a Travelling Thought.

A thought for Breeding would a Travellour be,
The several Countries in the Brain to see;
Spurr'd with Desires he was, Booted with Hope,
His Cap Curios'ty, Patience was his Cloak:
Thus Suited, strait a Horse he did provide,
And Strong Imagination got to Ride;
Which Sadled with Ambition, Girt with Pride,
Bridled with Doubt, and Stirrups on each Side
Of Resolution, he did Mount, and went
In a full Gallop of a good Intent:
Some ways i'th' Brain were Ill, and Foul withall,
Which made him oft into deep Errours fall;
Oft was he hid by Mountains high of Fear,
Then slid down Precipices of Despair;
Woods of Forgetfulness he oft past through,
To find the Right way out, had much ado;
In Troubles he had Travel'd a long way,
At last he came where Thieves of Spight close lay,
Who coming forth, drew out Reproachfull words,
Which wounded Reputation, as sharp Swords;
When he did feel the Wound smart, he drew out
Truth from Time's Scabbard, and Fought well and stout;
With an Innocent Thrust he left Spight Dead,
Wip'd of the Blood of Slander, Purple Red:
Then coming to a River of Temptation,
Which Deep and Dang'rous was of Tribulation,
He Swum with Temp'rance, and got out at last,
And with Security all Dangers past:
At last he to the City came of Power,
Where Tyranny did stand, a great high Tower,
With Discords populous, where Riot rules,
Great Colleges there were, to breed up Fools;
Large Houses of Extortion high were Built,
And all with Prodigality were Gilt;
Their Streets were Pitcht with Dull and Lazie stone,
Which never hurt the Feet, when Trod upon;
Markets of Plent'ful Circuits were there,
Where all Sorts came, and did Buy without care;
Herbs of Repentance there were in great store,
But Roots of Ignorance were many more;
The Carts of Knowledge much Provision brought,
And Understanding, which Truth Sold, some bought;
All what was Bought, prov'd good or bad by chance,
For some were Cousened by false Ignorance.
Then forthwith into Shamble-row he went,
VVhere store of Meat hung up, for 'twas no Lent;
There lay an Head with Wit and Fancies fill'd,
And many Hearts by Grief and Sorrow Kill'd;
Bladders of VVindy Opinions were there,
And Tongues of Eloquence hung on an Ear;
VVeak Livers of great Fear lay there to Sell,
And Spleens of Malice very Big did Swell;
Tough Lungs of VVilfulness were hard and dry,
VVhole Guts of Self-conceit did hang thereby.
Then to a Poult'rers Shop, he went to see
VVhat Foul there was, if any Good there be;
There lay wild Geese, though black and heavy Meat,
Yet some Gross Appetite lik'd them to Eat;
The Cholerick Turkie, and the Peacocks Pride,
The Foolish Dotterels lay there close beside;
Capons of Expectation Cramm'd with Hope,
And Swans of Large Desires lay in the Shop;
Reproachfull Words were Sold by Dozens there,
And Ignorant Gulls did Lye every where;
Poetical Birds many were to Sell,
More Fowl, which he remembred not to tell:
But being a Travellour, heel'd see all there,
And strait did go to Churches of great Fear,
VVhere each one Kneel'd upon the Knee of Pain,
And Prayers said with Tongues that were Prophane;
Petitioning Tears dropt from Coveting Eyes,
Deceitfull Hearts on Altars of Disguise;
Earnest they were to th'Gods, that they would give
Worldly Request, not Grace for Souls to Live:
But Travels of Experience he would see,
Which made him go to th'Court of Vanity;
The Porter Flattery Sate at the Gate,
Who Civil was, and Carried him in strait;
To Beauty's Presence-chamber first he went,
There staid some time with great and sweet Content;
Next to the Privy-chamber of Discourse,
Where Ignorance and Nonsense had great Force;
Then to the Bed-chamber of Love's Delights,
The Grooms which served there were Carpet Knights;
Thence he to th'Council of Direction went,
Where Great Disorder Sate as President;
No sooner this poor Stranger he did view,
Reproachfull Words out of his Mouth he threw,
Commanding Poverty a Sergeant poor,
To take and cast this Stranger out of Door;
Strait Flattery for him Intreated much,
But he Disorder's Ear doth seldome Touch;
For Cast he was into Necessity,
Which is a Prison of great Misery:
But Patience got him an Expedient pass,
So Home he went, but Rid upon an Ass.

A REGISTER OF MOURNFUL VERSES.

On a Melting Beauty.

Going into a Church my Pray'rs to say,
Close by a Tomb a Mourning Beauty lay,
Her Knees on Marble Cold were Bow'd down low,
And fixt so Firm, as if She there did Grow;
Her Elbow on the Tomb did Steady stand,
Her Head hung Back, the Hind-part in her Hand;
Turning her Eyes up to the Heavens high,
Left nothing but the White of each her Eye;
Upon the Lower Shut did Hang a Tear,
Like to a Diamond Pendant in an Ear;
Her Breast was Panting Sore, as if Life meant
To seek after her Heart, which way it went;
I Standing there, observed what She did,
At last she from her Hand did raise her Head,
And Casting down her Eyes, ne're Look'd about,
Tears pull'd her Eye-lids down as they Gush'd out;
Then with a gentle Groan at last did Speak,
Her Words were Soft, her Voice sound Low and Weak:
O Heavens! (said she) O! What do you mean?
I dare not think, you Gods can have a Spleen,
And yet I find great Torments you do give,
And Creatures make in Misery to Live;
You shew us Joys, but we possess not One,
You give us Life, for Death to Feed upon:
O Cruel Death! thy Dart hath made me poor,
Thou struck'st that Heart my Life did most adore;
You Gods, delight not thus me to Torment,
But strike me Dead by this dear Monument,
And let our Ashes mix both in this Urn,
That both into one Phœnix we may turn.
Hearing her Mourn, I went to give Relief,
But Oh, alas! her Ears were stopt with Grief;
VVhen I came near, her Blood Congeal'd to Ice,
And all her Body Changed in a Trice,
That Ice strait Melted, into Tears did turn,
And through the Earths Pores got into the Urn.

On a Furious Sorrow.

Outragious Sorrow on a Grave was set,
Digging the Earth, as if she through would get;
Her Hair unty'd, loose on her Shoulders hung,
And every Hair with Tears, like Beads, was strung,
Which Tears, when they did fall with their own weight,
Then new born Tears suppli'd their places strait;
She held a Dagger, seem'd with Courage bold,
Grief bid her strike, but Fear did bid her hold;
Impatience rais'd her Voice, she Shriek'd out Shril,
VVhich Sounded like a Trumpet on a Hill;
Her Face was Flickt, like Marble streak'd with Red,
Caus'd by Grief's Vapours, flying to her Head;
Her Bosom bare, her Garments loose and wide,
And in this Posture lay by Death's Cold Side:
By chance a Man, who had a fluent Tongue,
Came Walking by, seeing her Lye along,
Pittied her sad Condition, and her Grief,
And strain'd by Rhetorick's help to give Relief;
VVhy do you Mourn, said he, and thus Complain,
Since Grief will neither Death, nor th'Gods restrain?
VVhen they at first all Creatures did Create,
They did them all to Death Predestinate;
Your Sorrow cannot alter their Decree,
Nor call back Life by your Impatiency;
Nor can the Dead from Love receive a heat,
Nor hear the Sound of Lamentations great:
For Death is Stupid, being Numb and Cold,
No Ears to hear, nor Eyes hath to behold:
Then Mourn no more, since you no help can give,
Take Pleasure in your Beauty whilst you Live;
For in the Fairest, Nature pleasure takes,
But if you Dye, then Death his Triumph makes.
At last his Words, like Keys, unlock'd her Ears,
And then she strait considers what she hears;
Pardon you Gods, (said she) my Murmu'ring crime,
My Grief shall ne're dispute your will Divine,
But in sweet Life will I take most Delight,
And so went Home with that Fond Carpet Knight.

On a Mourning Beauty.

Upon the Hill of sad Melancholy,
I did a Silent Mourning Beauty Spy,
Still as the Night, not one articulate Noise
Did once Rise up, shut close from th'Light of Joys,
Only a Wind of Sighs, which did arise
From the deep Cave, the Heart, wherein it lies;
A Veil of Sadness o're her Face was flung,
Sorrow a Mantle Black about her hung;
Her Leaning Head upon her Hand did rest,
The other Hand was laid upon the Breast;
Her Eyes did humbly Bow towards the Ground,
Their Object, th'Earth, was in her Eyes quite Drown'd;
From her soft Heart a Spring of Tears did rise,
VVhich run from the two Fountains of her Eyes,
And where those Show'rs did fall, the Flow'rs wch sprung
No Comfort gave, their Heads for Grief down hung;
Yet did the Stars shine Bright, as Tapers, by,
Shadows of Light did sit as Mourners nigh:
At last the Gods did Pity her sad Fate,
And to a Shining Comet Her Translate.

Of Sorrow's Tears.

Into the Cup of Love pour Sorrows Tears,
Where every Drop a perfect Image bears;
And Trickling down the Hill of Beauty's Cheek,
Fall on the Breast, Dive through, the Heart to seek,
Which Heart would be Burnt up with Fire of Grief,
Did not those Tears with Moisture give Relief.

An Elegy on a Widow.

VVidows, which Honour for your Husbands have,
Virtuous in Life, and Faithfull to their Grave,
Set Altars on this Hearse for Memory,
And let her Fame Live here Eternally;
Here Celebrate her Name, come, and do bring
Your Offerings, and aloud her Praises Sing;
For she was One, whom Nature strove to make
A Pattern fit, Ensample from to take.

On a Mother that Dyed for Grief of the Death of her only Daughter.

Unto this Grave let Unkind Parents turn,
And Touch these Loving Ashes in this Urn,
All the Dislike Parents in Children find,
Will Vanish quite, and be of nature Kind:
For in this Tomb such pure Love Buried lies,
None Perfect is, but what from hence doth Rise.

On a Beautifull Young Maid that Dyed, Daughter to the Grieved Mother.

You Lovers all come Mourn here and Lament
Over this Grave, and Build a Monument
For Beauty's Everlasting Memory,
The World shall never such another see;
Her Face did seem like as a Glory bright,
Nay, ev'n the Rising Sun from her took Light;
The Sun and Moon could ne're Eclips'd have been,
If e're these Planets had her Beauty seen;
Nor had this Isle been Subject to Dark Nights,
Had not Sleep shut her Eyes, and stop'd those Lights;
No Bodies could Infection take, her Breath
Did Cleanse the Air, restoring Life from Death:
But Nature finding She had been too free,
In making such a mighty Power as She,
Us'd all Industry's Powerfull Art and Skil,
And gave Death Pow'r this Body for to Kill;
For had but Nature let this Body Live,
She'd had no Work for Death, nor Fates to give.

The Funeral of Calamity.

Calamity was Laid on Sorrow's Hearse,
And Coverings had of Melancholy Verse;
Compassion, a Kind Friend, did Mourning go,
And Tears about the Corps, as Flowers, strow;
A Garland of deep Sighs by Pity made,
Upon Calamity's Sad Corps was Laid;
Bells of Complaints did Ring it to the Grave,
Poets a Monument of Fame it gave.

Upon the Funeral of my Dear Brother, Kill'd in these Unhappy Warrs.

An Elegy upon the Death of my Brother.

Dear Brother,

Thy Idea in my Mind doth lye,
And is Intomb'd in my Sad Memory,
Where every Day I to thy Shrine do go,
And offer Tears, which from mine Eyes do flow;
My Heart, the Fire, whose Flames are ever pure,
Shall on Loves Altar last, till Life endure;
My Sorrows Incense strew, of Sighs fetch'd deep,
My Thoughts do watch while thy dear Ashes sleep;
Dear, Blessed Soul, though thou art gone, yet Lives
Thy Fame on Earth, and Man thee Praises gives:
But all's too Small, for thy Heroick Mind
Was above all the Praises of Mankind.

Of the Death and Burial of Truth.

Truth in the Golden Age had Health and Strength,
But in the Silver Age grew Lean at length;
I'th' Brazen Age sore Sick Abed did lye,
And in the last hard Iron Age did Dye.
Reck'ning and Measuring both being Just,
Were her Executors, to whom she Trust,
Which did Distribute all her Goods about
To her Dear Friends, and Legacies gave out:
First Usefull Arts, the Life of Man to Ease,
Then those of Pleasure, which the Mind do please;
Distinguishments from this to that to show,
What's best to take or leave, which way to go;
Experiments to shun, or to apply,
Either for Health, or Peace, or what to fly;
And Sympathies, which do the World unite,
Which else Antipathies would Ruine quite:
This Will and Testament she left behind,
And as her Deed of Gift unto Mankind.
Mourning she gave to all her Friends to wear,
And did appoint that four her Hearse should bear;
Love at the Head did hold the Winding Sheet,
On each Side Care and Fear, Sorrow the Feet:
This Sheet at every Corner fast was Ty'd,
Made of Oblivion, Strong and very VVide;
Nat'ral Affections, all in Mourning clad,
VVent next the Hearse, with Grief Distracted, Mad,
Their Hair, their Face, their Hands, tore, scratch'd, & wrung,
And from their Eyes Fountains of Tears out-sprung;
For Truth, said they, did always with us Live,
But now she's Dead, there is no Truth to give:
After came Kings which all Good Laws did make,
And Power us'd for Truth and Virtue's sake;
Next Honour came in Garments black and long,
VVith Blubber'd Face, and down her Head she hung,
VVho wish'd to Dye, for Life was now a Pain,
Since Truth was Dead, Honour no more could Gain:
Then Lovers came with Faces Pale as Death,
With shamefac't Eyes, quick Pulse, and shortned Breath,
And in each Hand a Bleeding Heart did bring,
VVhich they into the Grave of Truth did fling;
And ever since Lovers Inconstant prove,
They more Profession give than Real Love.
Next them came Counsellours of all Degrees,
From Courts, and Countries, and from Chief Cities
Their wise Heads were a Guard, and a strong Wall,
So long as Truth did Live amongst them all:
All Sorts of Tradesmen, using not to Swear,
So long as Truth, not Oaths, Sold off their Ware.
Physicians came, not those that Try for Skil
New ways, and for Experience many Kill,
But which use Simples good, by Nature sent,
To strengthen Man, and Sickness to prevent.
Judges, and Lawyers came, not Wrangling, Base,
But which for Truth did Plead, decide each Case;
Widows, which to their Husbands kind had Swore,
That, when they Dyed, they'ld never Marry more:
At last the Clergy came, which taught Truth's way,
And how Men in Devotion ought to Pray,
Who did Mens Lives by Moral Laws direct,
Perswade to Peace, and Governours Respect;
They wept for Grief, as Prophets did fore-tell,
That all the World with Falshood would Rebell;
Faction will come, said they, and bear great Sway,
And Bribes shall all the Innocent betray;
VVithin the Church shall Controversies rise,
And Heresies shall bear away the Prize;
Instead of Peace the Priests shall Discords Preach,
And high Rebellion in their Doctrines Teach:
Then shall Men Learn the Laws for to explain,
Which Learning only serves for Lawyers gain;
For they do make, and spread them like a Net,
To catch in Clients, and their Money get:
The Laws, which Wise Men made for to keep Peace,
Serve only now for Quarrels to Increase.
All those that Sit in Honour's Stately Throne,
Are Counterfeits, not any Perfect known;
They put on Vizzards of an honest Face,
But all their Acts unworthy are, and base;
Friendship in Words and Complements shall Live,
But in the Heart not one Nights Lodging give;
Lovers shall Dye for Lust, yet Love not One,
And Virtue unregarded Sit alone.
Now Truth is Dead, no Goodness here shall Dwell,
But with Disorder make each place a Hell;
With that they all did Shriek, Lament, and Cry
To Nature, for to End their Misery;
And now this Iron Age's so Rusty grown,
That all the Hearts are turn'd to hard Flint-stone.

THE CONCLUSION.

The Common Fate of Books.

Books have the worst Fate, when they once are Read,
They're laid aside, forgotten like the Dead:
Under a Heap of Dust they Buried lye,
Within a Vault of some small Library:
But Spiders, which Nature has taught to Spin,
For th'Love and Honour of this Art, since Men
Spin likewise all their Writings from their Brain,
A lasting Web of Fame thereby to Gain,
They do high Altars of thin Cobwebs raise,
Their Off'rings Flies, a Sacrifice of Praise.

Another of the Same.

VVhen as a Book doth from the Press come New,
All Buy or Borrow it, that Book to View,
Not out of Love of Learning, or of Wit,
But to find Fault, that they may Censure it:
For did no Faults at all therein appear,
(Though few there are but do in something err)
Yet Malice with her Rankled Spleen and Spight,
Will at the Time, or Print, or Binding Bite:
Like Devils, when good Souls they cannot get,
Then on their Bodies they their Witches set.

Of the Style of this Book.

I language want, to Dress my Fancies in,
The Hair's uncurl'd, the Garments loose and thin;
Had they but Silver-lace, to make them Gay,
They'ld be more Courted, than in poor Array;
Or had they Art, would make a better show:
But they are Plain, yet Cleanly do they go.
The World in Bravery doth take delight,
And Glist'ring shews do more attract the Sight;
For every One doth honour a rich Hood,
As if the Outside made the Inside good;
And every One doth Bow, and give the Place,
Not to the Person but the Silver-lace.
Let me intreat ye' in my poor Book's behalf,
That all may not Adore the Golden Calf;
Consider pray, that Gold no Life doth bring,
And Life in Nature is the Richest thing:
So Fancy is the Soul in Poetry,
And if not good, the Poem ill must be:
Be Just, let Fancy have the upper place,
And then my Verses may perchance find Grace;
If Flatt'ring Language all the Passions rule,
Then Sense, I fear, will be a meer Dull Fool.

[A poet I am neither Born nor Bred]

A poet I am neither Born nor Bred,
But to a VVitty Poet Married,
Whose Brain is Fresh, and Pleasant, as the Spring,
Where Fancies grow, and where the Muses sing;
There oft I lean my Head, and List'ning hark,
T' observe his Words, and all his Fancies mark;
And from that Garden Flow'rs of Fancies take,
VVhereof a Posie up in Verse I make:
Thus I, that have no Garden of my own,
There gather Flowers, that are newly Blown.