Certain Selected Odes Of Horace, Englished and their Arguments annexed. With Poems (Antient and Modern) of diuers Subjects, Translated. Whereunto are added, both in Latin and English, sundry new Epigrammes. Anagrammes. Epitaphes [by John Ashmore] |
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 | Certain Selected Odes Of Horace, Englished |  |
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EPIGRAMMES, EPITAPHES, ANAGRAMMES,
And other Poems of diuers subiects; in Latine and English.
33
A SPEECH, MADE TO the Kings Maiestie comming in his Progress to Rippon, the 15. of Aprill, 1617.
In the Person of Mercvrie.
High
Iove, with all the gods together met,
To see (great King) thy comming to this Town,
The casements large of heaven have open set,
And from their star-pav'd floors have sent me down,
Thee in their name to welcome to this place;
Which both thy Bountie, and thy Presence grace.
To see (great King) thy comming to this Town,
The casements large of heaven have open set,
And from their star-pav'd floors have sent me down,
Thee in their name to welcome to this place;
Which both thy Bountie, and thy Presence grace.
Young Phœbus, from his bright and radiant haire,
Such ioyfull light abroad here neuer shed
Since good King Adlestone of yore did reare
These stately piles with gold embelished;
Which after-times (miss-led) did rent asunder,
And at the last (alas!) were fir'd with thunder.
Such ioyfull light abroad here neuer shed
Since good King Adlestone of yore did reare
These stately piles with gold embelished;
Which after-times (miss-led) did rent asunder,
And at the last (alas!) were fir'd with thunder.
What Iliads of grief! what dole-full teen!
What Out-cries then were heard of young and old!
What Lamentation in the streets was seen,
As in this fear-full case they did behold
These holy things doom'd to the fire a prey?
But at a trice the Heaven his rage did stay.
What Out-cries then were heard of young and old!
What Lamentation in the streets was seen,
As in this fear-full case they did behold
These holy things doom'd to the fire a prey?
But at a trice the Heaven his rage did stay.
For, in the Dest'nies rowles, that open were,
(Thrice sacred King of men) they found, that thou
These wofull ruines should againe up-reare,
And Royall gifts for aye on it bestowe:
Nor can we think how better they deserve
That build, then they from down-fals that prezerve.
(Thrice sacred King of men) they found, that thou
34
And Royall gifts for aye on it bestowe:
Nor can we think how better they deserve
That build, then they from down-fals that prezerve.
No marvaile then, if every field and tree,
The windowes and the tops of houses too,
With people of all sorts replenisht be,
And where thou go'st if Nymphs sweet flowers do strowe.
From every place (good King) see how they run.
To feast their eyes; and cry, Hee's com, Hee's com.
The windowes and the tops of houses too,
With people of all sorts replenisht be,
And where thou go'st if Nymphs sweet flowers do strowe.
From every place (good King) see how they run.
To feast their eyes; and cry, Hee's com, Hee's com.
Nor were the sluces of thy Bounty so
Set open to the Churches good alone:
But, it aboundantly did also flowe,
And to the Town by grace-full streams was show'n,
When (made a body Politique) they did rise
To Place, with Hutton's, York's, and Mallory's.
Set open to the Churches good alone:
But, it aboundantly did also flowe,
And to the Town by grace-full streams was show'n,
When (made a body Politique) they did rise
To Place, with Hutton's, York's, and Mallory's.
And though Pactolus, with his golden sands,
Be farre remote from places where they dwell:
Yet come they not (good King) with empty hands:
For, other gifts they bring which gold excell;
Trve Loyall Hearts: which thou wilt not forsake.
Of Harvest small, the gods small hand-fulstake.
Be farre remote from places where they dwell:
Yet come they not (good King) with empty hands:
For, other gifts they bring which gold excell;
Trve Loyall Hearts: which thou wilt not forsake.
Of Harvest small, the gods small hand-fulstake.
The gods aboue, thy loving Subiects here,
Thy sacred Person in protection take:
And so Adieu, to gods and men most deer;
Whom, in such Progresses, oft happy make:
And, by Heroïck deeds beseeming thee,
Make way to th'high tow'rs of Eternity.
Thy sacred Person in protection take:
And so Adieu, to gods and men most deer;
Whom, in such Progresses, oft happy make:
And, by Heroïck deeds beseeming thee,
Make way to th'high tow'rs of Eternity.
35
Ad Potentissimū & Clementiss. Regem Iacobvm, Ecclesiæ Collegiatæ Ripponensis Restauratorē benigniss. auspicatissimo Maiestatis suæ progressu Ripponam advenientem, 15. Aprilis 1617.
[_]
These verses following, were then delivered to his Maiesty, and by him most graciously accepted.
Ad Regem
If of the gods good Kings high Stewards be,To ease them of the care of things belowe;
Then live secure, O heavenly Powrs: for we
So good a Steward ne'r before did knowe.
Ecclesiæ Ripponen: Prosop.
King Adleston me built, Danes down did pull:But Odo'nd Thurston, made me beautifull:
And (mov'd with zeale) King Iames doth now restore
What sacrilegious hands had rob'd before.
36
Altera eiusdem Prosop.
The Dane me sackt, poor wretch the Scot, o're-boldIn victory, unworthily me sold:
But, to both Realmes a Royall stem, by Fate,
His peoples faults (Beholde!) doth expiate.
Alia eiusdem Prosop.
Queen Elsabeth oft my complaints did heare:But she no help (by death prevented) gave me.
These ruines crav'd a great King them t'up-reare:
This praise thou hast alone, good King, to save me.
De Rumore falso, de Regis morte subitò sparso.
37
And told how Thou too soon a death didst die;
All places paid to thee the wofull Rent
Of Tears, which from their grief-swoln eyes they sent.
The Father of our Countrey's dead, they cry,
And with him all our ioyes doe buried lie.
Who e'r the raines of kingdoms so did guide?
Whose Iustice ioynd with Mercy so is tride?
Who mildness so with Maiesty hath sorted?
Or with his kingly hand the wrongd supported?
None e'r (alas!) with such high praise did live.
No Age hath given one like him: none shall give.
So, false Report hath true Report brought forth,
Which still shall witness to the world thy worth.
De Eodem.
Wherefore did Fame this wofull Newes forth spread,That thou (our Soveraigne) by curst hands wast dead?
Sure to this end; that thou alive might see,
When thou art gone, what fame will follow thee.
38
Ad Carolvm, Augustissimum Walliæ Principem.
Of the Prince his Imprese. Ic Dien. I serve.
I serve, the Royall Scepter born to sway.Hee'll ne'r rule well, that well did not obey.
Ad Pictorem.
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Let Maiestie (inthron'd) in's Countenance sit.
On's lips let Pitho, on's brows let Pallas rest.
Let Mildnes be his rosie cheeks chief Guest.
Let ioyfull Victorie o'r his locks hover.
Let his eye-lids the Graces grace discover.
But, if thy Skill this reach not, say; Alas,
How farre doth Natvre, Art (her Page) surpass!
To the most Beautifull and Uertuous Princess, the Lady Elisabeth.
Epigr. de eodem Anagrammate.
The Virgins birth (O Royall Maid) Gods Son,For ever bless thee, as he hath begun.
Ad eandem sereniss. Heroïnam.
Thou to the Graces number addest one:But, all their vertues are in thee alone.
40
Ad Illustrissimum Dominum, Georgivm Villiers, Marchionem Buckinghamiæ Amplissimum.
Nor generous 'haviour, nor thy browes sweet Graces,Nor Mildnes which thy Genivs still imbraces:
Nor Fame, which thou didst finde in forain Lands,
And with her wings here fairely on thee fannes:
Nor vertues rare, with Fortunes gifts attended,
Nor bountie to the Muses so commended,
To thee mens eyes and hearts drawes, and ith' scrowle
Of true Nobilitie doth thee inrowle:
But, what it is, soon wouldst thou understand?
All these, in Thee alone, ioyn'd hand in hand.
41
To the same right Honourable, George, Marquess of Buckingham, upon the Accession of his Office of the Admiralty.
Sing Io. Buckingham doth Seas controwle:He Horses rules, and Waves that proudly rowle.
So, 'mongst the gods, Neptune, that bravely glides
Through Crystall streames, courageous Horses guides.
Then, let none think this double Powr unfit;
Sith even the gods, themselves, have practiz'd it.
[Let's Io's sing, till th'Eccho's ring]
Let's Io's sing, till th'Eccho's ring;
For, Buckingham oth'Seas
Is Gen'rall: He doth Horses free,
And struggling Waves appease.
For, Buckingham oth'Seas
Is Gen'rall: He doth Horses free,
And struggling Waves appease.
So, 'mongst gods high in Maiestie,
He, that with triple Mace
The Sea with waves rules when it raves,
Guides Horses swift in chase.
He, that with triple Mace
The Sea with waves rules when it raves,
Guides Horses swift in chase.
Let none amiss then think it is,
That double powr is given
To one to beare; since to us here
Th'example comes from Heaven.
That double powr is given
To one to beare; since to us here
Th'example comes from Heaven.
[Iö. A thousand Mermaids dance oth' Maine]
Iö. A thousand Mermaids dance oth' Maine;Their Vice-Roy Buckingham to entertaine.
So, he, that the proud-neighing Horse commands,
Is Generall in Thetis liquid lawnds.
42
Saphir-hewd Neptune, with his aw-full Mace,
The mutinous waves, that subiècts to his lawes,
Makes sturdy steeds take bits in foaming iawes.
Then, let no Cynick with his furrowed brow
Grudge at this double power that's given him now;
Since, from the gods that raigne in greatest state,
We have this pattern given to imitate.
To the Right honourable, Edmvnd, Lord Sheffield, after his Recovery from a dangerous sickness.
When sickness late Heroïck Sheffield prest,
Pallas was sick, and Mavors wisht to die:
Pallas, whom still he harbourd in his brest;
And Mars, who alwayes rais'd his thoughts on high.
And if that death had taken him away,
Mavors, and Pallas, both, had dy'd that day.
Pallas was sick, and Mavors wisht to die:
Pallas, whom still he harbourd in his brest;
And Mars, who alwayes rais'd his thoughts on high.
And if that death had taken him away,
Mavors, and Pallas, both, had dy'd that day.
Which Atropos, who came with murthering knife,
Perceiving, cast the same out of her hand;
And did refuse to cut his line of life
Whose worthy praise is spread by Sea and Land;
And said; Nay live: yea, and forever live.
So ioy to men, and life to gods I give.
Perceiving, cast the same out of her hand;
And did refuse to cut his line of life
Whose worthy praise is spread by Sea and Land;
And said; Nay live: yea, and forever live.
So ioy to men, and life to gods I give.
[The Sermon Bub (whatsoe'r the Preachers doe)]
The Sermon Bub (whatsoe'r the Preachers doe)Into three parts divides; and then sleeps two.
43
[A double Gelding Gervase did provide]
A double Gelding Gervase did provide,That he and's wife to see their friends might ride.
And he a double Gelding prov'd indeed:
For suddenly hee fell so to his speed,
That both alight, with blowes and threats among:
He leads him; and his wife drives him along.
To the Right Honourable, Sir Francis Bacone, Knight, Lord High Chancelor of England.
Thy Vertuous Name, and Office, ioyne with Fate,To make thee the bright Beacon of the State.
Epithaphium Radulphi Simson, Ecclesiæ Collegiatæ Rippon. Choristæ.
His Parents hope, the quires shrill Nightingall,With whose sweet voyce these sacred wals oft rung,
Summond ro th'Saints, and answering at first call,
His Nvnc Dimtlis to the world hath sung;
And, crownd'mongst Virgins, with eternall Bayes,
Te Devm sings, with Aleluïah's.
44
To Master Aldebrough Esquire.
Not weary to doe well, Thov dost persever;And a Glad Harbor to thy friends art Ever.
[Sloth for a man unfitting is.]
Sloth for a man unfitting is.High labour up doth rise.
How many hath that spoyld; and this
Aduanc't above the skies!
To the Right Worshipfull, Sir Edward Mosley, Knight, Attorney of his Maiesties Court of the Dutchie of Lancaster.
This Nothing take of him, that owes to Thee
All things; and Nothing, if it greater bee.
All things; and Nothing, if it greater bee.
Ianus
is come; and now begins to call
For gifts, due at his first dayes Festivall:
But, gifts to him I none can finde to bring:
What? Are the sluces of the Thespian spring
So shut up? Are my wits so in the wane,
That the old Porter of the year, againe
Returning, should me emptie handed see?
I rather that, which no where found may be,
In wayes before unknown will seek: and, Lo,
From place to place by wandring to and fro,
My Muse hath Nothing found. This Gift take well.
Nothing doth pearle, Nothing doth gold, excell.
This therefore with a friendly eye beholde:
A new thing's heere; which none before have tolde.
The Latin and Greek Poëts did rehearse
All other things in their yet-living Verse:
Nothing the Greeks and Latins left unsaid.
Where-soe'r faire Ceres in the fields doth spread
Her Plentie-bringing hands from Heaven's towrs,
Or olde Oceanus (from his watry bowrs)
The broad ball of the Earth encloseth round,
Nothing's beginning or end is not found.
Nothing's immortall: Nothing, on all sides,
Still in the height of happiness abides.
But, if from hence we prove the divine praise,
Shall we not Altars then unto it raise?
Nothing's more pleasant than the cheerfull light.
Nothing with beauty more allures the sight,
Then a well watred garden in the Spring.
Nothing, than meadowes, is more flourishing.
Nothing is milder then the Southern winde.
In hurly-burlies, Nothing rest doth finde.
Nothing is iust in Peace. Nothing holdes faith
In Courtiers. And (as Tibullus saith)
He happy is, that Nothing hath. For, he
Feares not the traps of wily Treacherie.
He feares not scar-fires that great-Towns lay waste:
Nor he, by Theeves,
or Robbers, is agast:
Nor he, in carefull Sutes, his wit doth waste.
And Zeno's Wiseman, that doth so subiect
All things to Fate, Nothing doth not neglect:
H' admireth Nothing: Nothing he desires:
And the Socratian but to this aspires,
Nothing to knowe; which now's sought busily:
And boyes ith' schoole learne Nothing willingly,
Because to Wealth and Honour it doth bring.
For gifts, due at his first dayes Festivall:
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What? Are the sluces of the Thespian spring
So shut up? Are my wits so in the wane,
That the old Porter of the year, againe
Returning, should me emptie handed see?
I rather that, which no where found may be,
In wayes before unknown will seek: and, Lo,
From place to place by wandring to and fro,
My Muse hath Nothing found. This Gift take well.
Nothing doth pearle, Nothing doth gold, excell.
This therefore with a friendly eye beholde:
A new thing's heere; which none before have tolde.
The Latin and Greek Poëts did rehearse
All other things in their yet-living Verse:
Nothing the Greeks and Latins left unsaid.
Where-soe'r faire Ceres in the fields doth spread
Her Plentie-bringing hands from Heaven's towrs,
Or olde Oceanus (from his watry bowrs)
The broad ball of the Earth encloseth round,
Nothing's beginning or end is not found.
Nothing's immortall: Nothing, on all sides,
Still in the height of happiness abides.
But, if from hence we prove the divine praise,
Shall we not Altars then unto it raise?
Nothing's more pleasant than the cheerfull light.
Nothing with beauty more allures the sight,
Then a well watred garden in the Spring.
Nothing, than meadowes, is more flourishing.
Nothing is milder then the Southern winde.
In hurly-burlies, Nothing rest doth finde.
Nothing is iust in Peace. Nothing holdes faith
In Courtiers. And (as Tibullus saith)
46
Feares not the traps of wily Treacherie.
He feares not scar-fires that great-Towns lay waste:
Nor he, by Theeves,
or Robbers, is agast:
Nor he, in carefull Sutes, his wit doth waste.
And Zeno's Wiseman, that doth so subiect
All things to Fate, Nothing doth not neglect:
H' admireth Nothing: Nothing he desires:
And the Socratian but to this aspires,
Nothing to knowe; which now's sought busily:
And boyes ith' schoole learne Nothing willingly,
Because to Wealth and Honour it doth bring.
Knowe Nothing, and thou then shalt know the thing
Which with a No-Say, eye-like, dy'd in graine,
Is in the top of learnd Pythagoras Beane.
Mercurialists, the bowels of the earth
That rent, and with fire-belching bellows breath
Smelt metalls, and their Patrimonies mingle
With Sulphure, Mercurie, and smoaky Ingle,
Instant upon their secret work in holes,
Forc't in their Fornaces with hell-black coales,
At last with costly loss searching each creek
Finde Nothing; and yet, Nothing found, still seek.
No Pearch can measure this in th'Artists hand:
Nor he, the number of the Lybian sand
That knowes, can number it. Nothing, alone,
Is to Minerva and Apollo 'unknowne.
Nothing, it selfe above the Stars up-reares:
Nothing is higher then the glorious Spheares.
And though all ornaments of Wit You have
(Searching things hid in Natures secret Cave)
And gracefull speech (which when you doo advance,
Might make whole Forrests after you to dance
The Measures) and grave Wisdome (which doth bring
You to imployment, from our gracious King,
In matters of great Consequence) yet you
(Oh! give me leave to speak the thing that's true,
And all that know you, needs must to me grant)
Doe seem of Nothing to be ignorant.
Yet Nothing than the glorious Sun-beame's lighter:
And Nothing then the glowing fire is brighter:
Nothing doth fit each Fancie. Adde this too,
Nothing's more subtle than the clouted-shoo.
Touch Nothing: and thou then wilt surely say,
Without a body Nothing touch we may:
Nothing behold: and thou wilt say, that wee
Can Nothing without help of Colour see.
Without a Voyce, it speaks, and heares; and flyes
Without Wings: Nothing walketh without Thies.
Without a Place, Nothing to goe is able.
Than Physick, Nothing is more profitable.
Then, try not the Thessalian spels, or reeles,
When the Idalian dart thy breast, pearc't, feeles;
Nor Dictean weeds, from Ida's top tane, prove.
Nothing doth cure the wounds of cruell Loue.
And though thee Charon o'r his sad flood carry,
Nothing will thee forbid there still to tarry.
Nothing th'infernall King doth pacifie,
And bends the distafs of hard Destinie.
The Titans brood, in fields Phlegreian drownd,
Than stroake of Thunder Nothing mightier found.
Nothing without the worlds great wals doth stray.
The gods feare Nothing. Why then dost thou stay,
My Muse, so long? Than Vertue Nothing's better:
And (to conclude) Nothing than Iove is greater.
Which with a No-Say, eye-like, dy'd in graine,
Is in the top of learnd Pythagoras Beane.
Mercurialists, the bowels of the earth
That rent, and with fire-belching bellows breath
Smelt metalls, and their Patrimonies mingle
With Sulphure, Mercurie, and smoaky Ingle,
Instant upon their secret work in holes,
Forc't in their Fornaces with hell-black coales,
At last with costly loss searching each creek
Finde Nothing; and yet, Nothing found, still seek.
No Pearch can measure this in th'Artists hand:
Nor he, the number of the Lybian sand
That knowes, can number it. Nothing, alone,
Is to Minerva and Apollo 'unknowne.
Nothing, it selfe above the Stars up-reares:
Nothing is higher then the glorious Spheares.
And though all ornaments of Wit You have
(Searching things hid in Natures secret Cave)
47
Might make whole Forrests after you to dance
The Measures) and grave Wisdome (which doth bring
You to imployment, from our gracious King,
In matters of great Consequence) yet you
(Oh! give me leave to speak the thing that's true,
And all that know you, needs must to me grant)
Doe seem of Nothing to be ignorant.
Yet Nothing than the glorious Sun-beame's lighter:
And Nothing then the glowing fire is brighter:
Nothing doth fit each Fancie. Adde this too,
Nothing's more subtle than the clouted-shoo.
Touch Nothing: and thou then wilt surely say,
Without a body Nothing touch we may:
Nothing behold: and thou wilt say, that wee
Can Nothing without help of Colour see.
Without a Voyce, it speaks, and heares; and flyes
Without Wings: Nothing walketh without Thies.
Without a Place, Nothing to goe is able.
Than Physick, Nothing is more profitable.
Then, try not the Thessalian spels, or reeles,
When the Idalian dart thy breast, pearc't, feeles;
Nor Dictean weeds, from Ida's top tane, prove.
Nothing doth cure the wounds of cruell Loue.
And though thee Charon o'r his sad flood carry,
Nothing will thee forbid there still to tarry.
Nothing th'infernall King doth pacifie,
And bends the distafs of hard Destinie.
The Titans brood, in fields Phlegreian drownd,
Than stroake of Thunder Nothing mightier found.
Nothing without the worlds great wals doth stray.
The gods feare Nothing. Why then dost thou stay,
48
And (to conclude) Nothing than Iove is greater.
But, now these subtle Trifles time bids end;
Lest, if in too much paper I commend
My Verses, unto you of Nothing sent,
They might more Weariness bring, than Content.
Lest, if in too much paper I commend
My Verses, unto you of Nothing sent,
They might more Weariness bring, than Content.
To Mr. Miles Moody, of an Epitaph which he wrote of the death of his vertuous and loving wife, Elisabeth, daughter to Mr. William Fawcet, Alderman of Rippon.
And doth the Torrent of thy long-pent Griefe
At last breake through the flood-gates of thy woe;
That in a streame of teares findes some reliefe,
Which from thy heart o'r-charg'd with Sorrow flowe?
Nor can I blame thee, that (so left alone)
The loss thou of thy dearest doth bemone;
At last breake through the flood-gates of thy woe;
That in a streame of teares findes some reliefe,
Which from thy heart o'r-charg'd with Sorrow flowe?
Nor can I blame thee, that (so left alone)
The loss thou of thy dearest doth bemone;
Like the true Turtle, that his lovely mate
(As she is busie feeding of her young)
Beholds oth' sudden (O ungentle Fate!)
With a wreath'd Serpent slily creeping stung;
Whose poyson shed it selfe int' ev'ry part,
And ceased not till it had seiz'd her hart.
(As she is busie feeding of her young)
Beholds oth' sudden (O ungentle Fate!)
With a wreath'd Serpent slily creeping stung;
Whose poyson shed it selfe int' ev'ry part,
And ceased not till it had seiz'd her hart.
Her Minde devout, her Life was harmless led:
To parents, children, and to thee most dear.
With hope of Ioy, she (on her dying bed)
Vndanted, intertain'd Death drawing neare.
In Earth, she by these vertues was commended:
These were the staires by which she Heaven ascended.
To parents, children, and to thee most dear.
With hope of Ioy, she (on her dying bed)
Vndanted, intertain'd Death drawing neare.
In Earth, she by these vertues was commended:
These were the staires by which she Heaven ascended.
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Then serve a Supersedeas on thy Woe:
She will be absent from thee but a while.
Meane while, the houres, that lingring seem too slowe,
Thou with her lively pictures maist beguile.
The time's at hand, when (ioynd in Ioyes for ever)
Nor Time, nor Death, shall powr have you to sever.
She will be absent from thee but a while.
Meane while, the houres, that lingring seem too slowe,
Thou with her lively pictures maist beguile.
The time's at hand, when (ioynd in Ioyes for ever)
Nor Time, nor Death, shall powr have you to sever.
An Epitaph upon the death of Elisabeth Brigges, Daughter to the discreet Matron and Widow, Bettrice Brigges.
Come Virgins, come: Why doe you linger so,
With streams of tears that frō your swoln eys showr?
Her Grave with Roses and with Lillies strowe,
That of your Garland was the fairest Flowr.
Lillies and Roses soon decay and perish,
While bitter Worm-wood and sharp Nettles flourish.
With streams of tears that frō your swoln eys showr?
Her Grave with Roses and with Lillies strowe,
That of your Garland was the fairest Flowr.
Lillies and Roses soon decay and perish,
While bitter Worm-wood and sharp Nettles flourish.
Your Garlands breake: henceforth no garlands beare:
Their fading doth your fading state expresse.
For Garlands, deadly Yeugh and Elder weare,
And branches of the saddest Cyparesse.
Lillies and Roses, &c.
Their fading doth your fading state expresse.
For Garlands, deadly Yeugh and Elder weare,
And branches of the saddest Cyparesse.
Lillies and Roses, &c.
Ye Holly-hocks, why hold you downe your heads?
And Violets, why pine you so away?
Because (alas!) that shee from you is fled,
That drest you, and hath tane her leaue for aye?
Lillies and Roses, &c.
And Violets, why pine you so away?
Because (alas!) that shee from you is fled,
That drest you, and hath tane her leaue for aye?
Lillies and Roses, &c.
50
O Hymen, why didst thou pale Death permit,
Within thy Right, to set his hate-full feet;
And take her, that for thy sweet Rites was fit;
For Bridals, that gave her a Winding-sheet?
Lilies and Roses, &c.
Within thy Right, to set his hate-full feet;
And take her, that for thy sweet Rites was fit;
For Bridals, that gave her a Winding-sheet?
Lilies and Roses, &c.
When Death arrested her, with his sad Mace,
And clowdy Mists her Senses over-spread,
Her native favour he could not disgrace;
Which was compos'd of purest white and red.
Lillies and roses, &c.
And clowdy Mists her Senses over-spread,
Her native favour he could not disgrace;
Which was compos'd of purest white and red.
Lillies and roses, &c.
All, that thy sweet conditions did knowe,
Desired, that their lives they so might spend:
And all, that from this life did see thee goe,
Desired that their lives they might so end.
Lillies and Roses soone decay and perish,
While bitter Worm-wood and sharp Nettles flourish.
Desired, that their lives they so might spend:
And all, that from this life did see thee goe,
Desired that their lives they might so end.
Lillies and Roses soone decay and perish,
While bitter Worm-wood and sharp Nettles flourish.
To Sir Iohn Mallory, Knight, after his Recovery from a great Sickness.
Of late, when Sickness on thy limbs did seise,
Which Physicks skill could nothing help or ease,
And with an Habeas Corpus Death was prest,
With Non Omittas, ready theet'arrest;
Each corner of thy house was fild with Wo,
And sense-distracting Grief ran to and fro.
Which Physicks skill could nothing help or ease,
And with an Habeas Corpus Death was prest,
With Non Omittas, ready theet'arrest;
Each corner of thy house was fild with Wo,
And sense-distracting Grief ran to and fro.
Which heard, the Cry oth'Poor about thy gates,
So shak't the doors of th'Adamantine Fates,
That by their Page th'a Supersedeas sent
To Death, to shew th'had altered their intent.
For, if we take him, one of them did say,
How many will with hunger pine away!
So shak't the doors of th'Adamantine Fates,
That by their Page th'a Supersedeas sent
To Death, to shew th'had altered their intent.
51
How many will with hunger pine away!
In Matildam.
When Maud hath tane deep moultar of the Can,She tels long stories of her dead Good-man:
How kinde he was to her at bed and boord;
And that he never gave her angry word.
Twixt every Cup she talks, no Healths forbears;
Which her resolves, like Niobé, to Tears:
Then sighes she, and drinks off another Cup
(For, Sorrow's dry.) then suddenly gets-up
(Nor can her Gossips cause her longer stay)
And t'her dear husbands Grave she takes the way:
And thither come (crossing her selfe) doth weep;
Then wrings her hands, kneels down, and fals asleep.
To the vertuous, and fairely spreading Buds of Beautie, Mistris Marie, Francis, and Ioane Metcalf, daughters of Sir Thomas Metcalf, Knight, he dedicates these Roses.
It 'Spring, the Day, by fair Aurora led,
Breath'd cooly; yet the Sense with pleasure fed:
Quick Aire before the Eastern Steeds did run,
Advising to prevent the scorching Sun.
Then lov'd I in a garden by a spring;
Where to delight me fitted every thing.
A candid Pearle upon each grass-pile hung:
Nor sparingly Pearles on the hearbs were flung:
On cawles of Cobweb-lawne, glaz'd spangles plaid;
Which full of heavenly liquor down-ward swaid.
I saw the Rose-beds, with trim dressings proud;
Which till faire Day a deawie vaile did shrowd.
Ith' thickets Gems were scattered here and there:
Which hide themselves when Phœbus rayes appeare.
Whether the Rose Auror', or she hath dy'd
The Rose with maidens-blush, t's not yet try'd.
Their Deaw, their Colour, and their Morn is one:
And both from Venus have protection.
Perhaps their savour's one: Ith' aire, That's spent.
This, neerer us, hath a farre sweeter sent.
One Goddess guides the Star, and the Flowre, too:
And, clad in Scarlet liveries, both goe.
Nor suddenly the branches of the Rose
In equall distances themselves disclose.
This bravely weares a Periwig on her head,
Her pretty Leaves are all with Purple spread.
From her square Base she climbs, and up ascendeth;
And (pointed with a Rubie-button) bendeth.
Her plaited Robes this gathers in the top,
Ready to open now her silken Shop.
Her smiling Treasures then she sheweth plaine,
And seeds of Saffron, which there safe remaine.
Shee that but now her golden Leaves did brandish,
Now pale (alas!) left of her Leaves doth languish.
Breath'd cooly; yet the Sense with pleasure fed:
Quick Aire before the Eastern Steeds did run,
Advising to prevent the scorching Sun.
Then lov'd I in a garden by a spring;
Where to delight me fitted every thing.
A candid Pearle upon each grass-pile hung:
Nor sparingly Pearles on the hearbs were flung:
52
Which full of heavenly liquor down-ward swaid.
I saw the Rose-beds, with trim dressings proud;
Which till faire Day a deawie vaile did shrowd.
Ith' thickets Gems were scattered here and there:
Which hide themselves when Phœbus rayes appeare.
Whether the Rose Auror', or she hath dy'd
The Rose with maidens-blush, t's not yet try'd.
Their Deaw, their Colour, and their Morn is one:
And both from Venus have protection.
Perhaps their savour's one: Ith' aire, That's spent.
This, neerer us, hath a farre sweeter sent.
One Goddess guides the Star, and the Flowre, too:
And, clad in Scarlet liveries, both goe.
Nor suddenly the branches of the Rose
In equall distances themselves disclose.
This bravely weares a Periwig on her head,
Her pretty Leaves are all with Purple spread.
From her square Base she climbs, and up ascendeth;
And (pointed with a Rubie-button) bendeth.
Her plaited Robes this gathers in the top,
Ready to open now her silken Shop.
Her smiling Treasures then she sheweth plaine,
And seeds of Saffron, which there safe remaine.
Shee that but now her golden Leaves did brandish,
Now pale (alas!) left of her Leaves doth languish.
I mus'd, to see their Beauty did not stay;
And, in their Cradle, that their Hairs grew gray.
Even while I speake, see how their Glory Sheds,
And how their Punick-pride the Ground o'r-spreads.
Such Shapes, such Births, and divers Changes growne
In one day, are in one day overthrowne.
We blame thee, Nature, that Flowrs soon decay:
Thou onely shew'st them, then tak'st them away.
The age of Roses but one day doth last:
Which being gon, their youthfull time is past.
Her, whom now born the Sun saw rising red,
Setting, he fainting sees on her Death-bed:
Yet her Short Life requited is, that she
Lives ever in her faire Posteritie.
Pull Roses, Virgins, while the time doth last:
And think how soon your Rose-time will be past.
And, in their Cradle, that their Hairs grew gray.
Even while I speake, see how their Glory Sheds,
And how their Punick-pride the Ground o'r-spreads.
Such Shapes, such Births, and divers Changes growne
In one day, are in one day overthrowne.
53
Thou onely shew'st them, then tak'st them away.
The age of Roses but one day doth last:
Which being gon, their youthfull time is past.
Her, whom now born the Sun saw rising red,
Setting, he fainting sees on her Death-bed:
Yet her Short Life requited is, that she
Lives ever in her faire Posteritie.
Pull Roses, Virgins, while the time doth last:
And think how soon your Rose-time will be past.
To Mr. William Mallory, and his deare brother Iohn, the generous and gracefull children of Mr. William Mallory, Esquire.
See here the Map of humane Miserie,
The Labyrinth that you are entring to,
Full of cross-waies of ambiguitie
Like to Mæander running to and fro:
Here had you need of Ariadneys clue;
Which in all doubts will aide and succor you.
The Labyrinth that you are entring to,
Full of cross-waies of ambiguitie
Like to Mæander running to and fro:
Here had you need of Ariadneys clue;
Which in all doubts will aide and succor you.
By help of it, the Minotaur you'll slay
(A Monster bred of Lust and lewd Desire).
And, being rid of that perplexed way,
To sweet repose of minde you'll thence retire.
Those, that to kill this Monster doe not strive,
Shall (peece-meal) be devour'd of him alive.
(A Monster bred of Lust and lewd Desire).
And, being rid of that perplexed way,
To sweet repose of minde you'll thence retire.
Those, that to kill this Monster doe not strive,
Shall (peece-meal) be devour'd of him alive.
And may not I, the Palinurus now
That at the Helm in a calm River sit,
Of your lancht Frigot, tell what th'heavens foreshowe?
That happy Windes shall still attend on it;
And that great Neptune, with his azure traine,
Will steer it, till the happy Port it gaine.
That at the Helm in a calm River sit,
54
That happy Windes shall still attend on it;
And that great Neptune, with his azure traine,
Will steer it, till the happy Port it gaine.
Ausonius, ex græco, de ambiguitate eligendæ vitæ. Edyl. 15. begining thus
Quod vitæ sectaboriter, &c.
What kinde of life may I desire as best,
If Courts of Iustice freed from Brawls ne'r rest?
If break-sleep Thoughts in private houses wun,
If home-Cares after weary Pilgrims run,
If to new losses Marchants be inur'd,
If Husbandmen, Want (not to be indur'd)
Forbids to loyter: if Toyle them o'r-throwes?
If Seas, by Ship-wrack, prove our deadly foes,
If Discontents attend a Bachlers life,
But more in vaine to watch a wanton Wife?
If Wars be bloody, if the sharking Arts
Of Vsurers, suck blood from poor-mens harts?
Each Age brings Cares: none like the present season.
Young Babes, yet sucking, Iudgement want and Reason.
Boyes it is hard within due bounds to keep:
And hare-braind Youth fall into dangers deep.
Fortune afflicteth men by cruell Wars,
By crafty fetches and revengefull Iarres,
By endless troubles linkt as in a Chaine,
Still to be chang'd for worse that doe remaine.
At last, Old-age, ill-wisht-for, on us growes,
And us a spoyle to all Diseases throwes.
55
That som have wisht, they gods had never been.
Iuturna cryeth-out, Why made he mee
Immortall? Why from Death's stroak am I free?
So unto Caucasus Prometheus ty'd
Forbare not but on Saturns sonne out-cry'd.
Nor ceased he even Iove himselfe by name
(Because he was exempt from death) to blame.
Behold the Vertues of the minde; and see
Hippolytus o'r-thrown by Modestie:
But, he that takes delight his life to staine
With Wantonness, or baits of Pleasures vaine,
Let him behold what punishment did fall
On lustfull Tereus, or Sardanapal.
The Carthage Wars bid treachery eschue.
Saguntum, that she kept her faith, might rue.
Live, and keep friendship still; this onely thing
The Pithagoreans did to ruine bring.
But, fearing it, Keep none: for this, alone,
Th'Athenians did uncivill Timon stone.
With inter-fering Cares, Mindes fraught dissent:
That, which now pleaseth, straight will not content.
Some Honours seek: which, had, they nought regard;
Who, where they might command, stand at Reward.
When this man is by favour raised high,
Hee's thrust into the mouth of pale Envie.
Still watch-full Cares goe with the Eloquent:
But unkembd Clowns do want life's Ornament.
Be thou a Patron, and defend th'accused;
Of Clyents Thankfulness is seldome used.
Be thou a Clyent, then thou must be sure,
Thy Patrons words, full of commands, t'endure.
56
But, straight disgrac't Grief him attends alone.
Poor Old-age men despise. If Heirs thou want,
Of cheating Claw-backs thou shalt have no scant.
Be frugall, and a Niggard thou art nam'd:
Be lavish, then thou shalt be more defam'd.
If thou be forc't Adversitie to beare,
Then all things else will goe against the haire.
Then, with the best Greek Sentence, I agree;
Tis good, Not to be born; or Soon to die.
To Mr. Iohn Cameage.
Thou living, dost right well, to haveRemembrance of thy death and grave.
[When perils I by Land and Sea had past]
When perils I by Land and Sea had past,Age Came, and Sommond me to death at last.
Epitaph.
57
Me breeding gave, till (growing to a man)
Strange fashions I and kingdoms longd to see;
Not did I scape the Turkish tyrannie.
From which delivered strangely (of thy Art,
O Typhis, I shal skilfull was in part)
Through raging Seas (guided by power divine)
To th'trustier shore of Christians, me and mine
I safely brought. Then, almost spent with toyle,
I came againe to see my Countrey-soyle:
Where to my former trade of life addrest,
At last I here in quiet peace doe rest.
Epitaphium D. Stephani Procter, Militis.
Thy Ship, late tost from Coast to Coast,Thou steerd ith' Port to rest,
From Circes charms and Scylla's harms;
Where thou art ever blest.
58
De Poculo. Ad G. N.
With silver Lips this Cup to thee I send:Which with thy rosie Lips allow to blend.
It will thee satisfie with Nectar sweet,
Sweeter then Nectar, when thy Lips it greet.
Ad M. T.
Thou Pictures shewes to th'blind, to th'deafe thou sings,When to th'unlearn'd thou learned Poëms brings.
Reverendo in Christo Patri & D. Ioh. King, Episcopo Londinensi.
59
Which brought his wife Eurydice from Hell;
Or how Amphion with his Lute did call
Both Stones and Trees to build the Theban wall;
Or how a Dolphin through the Seas did bring
Arion, hyr'd with his harmonious string.
Thy Kingly Trumpet, fild with heavenly breath,
Excels them, raising men to Heaven from Earth.
60
Epithaphium D. Gvil. Talentire, Rectoris de Goldsbrough.
The Talents, which thy God unto thee lent,Thou hidst not, Talentire, nor lewdly spent;
But, as a Servant true restor'd with gaine;
And hast thy Faith's reward, in Heauen to raigne.
Ad D. Gvil. Mallory, cum Virgilivm sibi auro pulchrè ornatum dederim.
This gift (O generous childe) I give to thee,That greater would, if Fortune favord me:
But, what gift greater may I to thee give,
Then Virgil great, whose greatest praise doth live?
61
Ad T. N.
Thou saist, I owe to thee an Epigram.Take this: So, now out of thy debt I am.
Epitaphium Reverendi viri, D. Mosis Fowler, primi Ecclesiæ Collegiatæ Ripponensis Decani.
Heaven, Earth, and Men for one thing do contend:Each one doth Fowler chalenge to be his.
Gods Messenger, from Heaven, this strife to end,
Descend's: And thus his will performed is.
His soule to Heaven, his body to the Grave,
To Vs the tropheis of his wit he gave.
62
Allusio in eiusdem nomen.
Blinde Fortune hath not Fowler nam'd thee then.For, as he Birds doth take, so thou tak'st men.
Not tir'd with toyl, both spread your Nets, and mend:
Heart-charming Tunes from skilfull Mouthes both send.
The Sun both busie sees, when he begins
His race, and when in Neptune's bowr's he Innes.
Yet this betwixt you both the difference makes:
Thou gently sav'st, He kils those that he takes.
Ad. D. Cradock, Ecclesiæ Cathedralis Dunelmensis Cancellarium, de Patris sui morte.
63
Their Store's not less. The gods thou follow'st so.
But, they give not except long vows compell them:
Thou, of thy Self, un-askt: So thou excels them.
Therefore my Heart shall still the Altar be;
Whence, Praise and Thankfulness I'll yeeld to thee.
64
Ex Martial. Lib. 1. Epigr.
If any worthie be to be inrowl'dAmongst true Friends, of which fore-times have told:
If any in Greek Arts, or Latin be
Well washt, and good with wise simplicitie:
If any that loues Right, goes honest wayes,
And so to God, that all may heare him, praies:
If any staid with Magnanimitie;
If this be not our Lindall, Let me die.
Ad D. Christoph. Lindall, Ripponæ Præbendar. digniss.
That with this Epigramme thy deeds agree,They well know, that did ever well know thee.
To the worthily much-honor'd Knight, Sir Thomas Ferfax, of Denton.
Whether thou warlike Barbarie bestride
(That angry is with the controwling bit)
Or in calm Peace (thy armour layd aside)
Determining Causes on the Bench dost sit,
Or dost retire to th'Muses thy delight,
And reads, or makes as they to thee indite:
(That angry is with the controwling bit)
Or in calm Peace (thy armour layd aside)
Determining Causes on the Bench dost sit,
Or dost retire to th'Muses thy delight,
And reads, or makes as they to thee indite:
65
Wheresoe'r thou art (renown'd Knight) thou dost beare
The Image of that Monarch great of France,
To whom Minerva brought both Shield and Speare;
Whose Ensignes Victory did still advance;
And on whose Grave, with bitter tears besprent,
Mars mournes, and Prowess her hoare-hairs doth rent.
The Image of that Monarch great of France,
To whom Minerva brought both Shield and Speare;
Whose Ensignes Victory did still advance;
And on whose Grave, with bitter tears besprent,
Mars mournes, and Prowess her hoare-hairs doth rent.
Achilles Friend so like him did not goe,
Whom Hector in his roome inrag'd did slay,
As thou dost him in every point: For, so
His eyes he mov'd, his hands did so display.
And, more: The Heavens this Grace unto thee give,
His Vertues cannot die, while Thou dost live.
Whom Hector in his roome inrag'd did slay,
As thou dost him in every point: For, so
His eyes he mov'd, his hands did so display.
And, more: The Heavens this Grace unto thee give,
His Vertues cannot die, while Thou dost live.
To the famous Martialist, Captaine William Ferfax.
Nor from thy Name dost thou degenerate,
Stern Mars his Minion, Darling of the Muses;
Nor prises Honor at so lowe a rate,
That it t'obtaine thou any toyle refuses.
The way is steep, in which they must begin,
That Honors Fort doe Scale, Surprise, and Win.
Stern Mars his Minion, Darling of the Muses;
Nor prises Honor at so lowe a rate,
That it t'obtaine thou any toyle refuses.
The way is steep, in which they must begin,
That Honors Fort doe Scale, Surprise, and Win.
66
With Trumpets sound, how sweetly dost thou ioyne
The pleasing tunes of gentle Erato!
And with what sacred theft dost thou purloine
The hearts of men! What manly Vertues growe
From thy young Years! which since as I desire
I cannot praise, I onely will admire.
The pleasing tunes of gentle Erato!
And with what sacred theft dost thou purloine
The hearts of men! What manly Vertues growe
From thy young Years! which since as I desire
I cannot praise, I onely will admire.
Dialogus inter Vram & Skell, duos amnes Ripponam ambientes, & in parte oppidi orientali coeuntes, de morte celeberrimi viri, Ioh. Mallory, Equitis aurati.
67
Tell me, good Skell, from mirth to mourning cheer
What so hath chang'd thee, or what moves thy mind?
Hath any troubled late thy Waters cleer?
Or doth thy lovely Nymph now prove unkinde?
Sk.
Nor this, nor that: far greater Grief I knowe,
Which on my wofull Heart doth heavie lie.
Hast thou not heard the cause of common Woe;
The Funerall of famous Mallory?
Vr.
Is Mallory dead? O cruell Fates decree!
Could his great Worth obtaine then no Relief?
O Irow lawes of still-stern Destiny,
Ne'r satisfied with humane Woe and Grief!
68
At his death, Nymphs in liquid Bowrs did weep;
And, shrieking out, did rent their greenish hair:
At his death, Wayling did all places keep:
Both Heaven, and Earth their mourning weeds did wear.
Vr.
Was this the cause wisen sweet sleep clos'd mine eyes
In my moss-matted roome, whiles Nymphs did sing,
That Storm-wingd Boreas, and the thundring Skies,
Me from my bed so suddenly did bring?
Sk.
Since both of Vs then Partners are in woe,
And neither from disastrous Chance are free,
Lets ioyne our streams, and both together goe:
So, that, which two-fold was, one Grief will be.
Vr.
Content: but, thus; that both together we
Doe run t'our Father Oceans larger coast:
Hee'l us imbrace in's glassie Hall; and he,
To ease our Grief, will play the gentle Hoast.
Sk.
May any thing more ioyfull me betide,
Than him to see that rules ith' watry Field?
Hee'l us receiue; and t'us, with weeping dry'd,
He for fresh tears salt waters still will yeeld.
69
In Rufum.
Rufus, but late returning from the South,Knaps Southern; and now scornes his Countrey-mouth:
He cringes with his Face, and looks aside;
And sets his Countenance, as he were a Bride.
He wears a nitty Lock: his Fingers skip,
And dance Carantoes 'twixt his Waste and Lip;
And is with Complement so fild to th'Brim,
That when a Gentleman but said to him,
What is't a clock; he first his hand did kiss;
To say then, At your service, did not misse.
And as the time he intertained thus,
Before he would lay open or untruss
The Budget of his Speech, with much adoo
A formall leg he made, and sayd, Tis two.
Ye Home-bred things, if you in's comp'nie fall,
Be mannerly; or he will shame you all.
Ad G. W. qui casu caput suum Cantabrigiæ fregit.
Pallas had ne'r been born of high Ioves head,It's Head had not been broke and brought a-bed:
Was not thy Head, then, broke in Pallas Towne,
That Pallas in thy Head might take a roome?
70
In Sacrificum quendam.
A Priest, for Penance, one enioynd to takeA iourney with three Pease, loose in his shoo:
Which he, devoutly given, did not forsake,
But fram'd himself his Penance straight to doo:
Yet, that he might perform it with more ease,
His wit did serve him, first to boyl the Pease.
To the Right Worsh. the Lady Elsabeth Metcalf, the La. Catherin Fennick, and the La. Marie Bethell, Daughters of Sir Hen. Slingsbie, Knight.
Iudge, Ladies, that are modest, faire, and wise(Since in their iudgements Men doe varie so,
And in these cases Women best advise)
Whether Lucretia did doo well, or no.
[When with a knife chaste Lucrece stabd her side]
When with a knife chaste Lucrece stabd her side,And streams of blood thence gushed-forth, she cry'd,
My spirit in Heaven, my blood shall witness heer,
That I from staines of Chastity am cleer.
How well will these, brought for me, plead and prove;
This with the Ghosts, that with the Gods above!
[My Bodie's staind: my Soule is pure and free.]
My Bodie's staind: my Soule is pure and free.Then, from this body, chaste dost thou not slee?
[If the Adult'rer, Lucrece did thee please]
If the Adult'rer, Lucrece did thee please,By Death deserv'd thou seeks unworthy praise:
71
For thy Foes fault, thou (mad) thy blood didst spill.
In vaine then Lucrece thou seeks praise, at all:
For, madly thou, or wickedly, didst fall.
To Mrs. Dorathy Wythes, wife to Mr. Charles Wythes, Esquire.
Wise and Harty, both are good:Doth, gives them Life and Action.
Without it, both are but a Bud,
That growes to no Perfection.
To Mr. Marke Metcalf.
Eutrapeley (as some thought) is not dead,Though long since she from us be gon and fled.
Shee's with Marke Metcalf gon to York from hence:
And with him there keeps dayly Residence.
An Epitaph of I. H. Dyer.
He lives with God, none can deny,That while he liv'd, to th'World did die.
Ad Poetam doctissimum (utinam dicissimum) Ioh. Owen.
72
But now Three, One, for want of meanes, see perish.
[Mecœnas earst three Poëts did mantaine]
Mecœnas earst three Poëts did mantaine:By Three, now, One scarce Bread and Cheese can gaine.
[Three Poëts one Mecœnas whilom fed]
Three Poëts one Mecœnas whilom fed:Now Three let One goe supperless to bed.
73
To the Honourable, Sir Thomas Wentworth, Knight Baronet.
Be where thou wilt, Worth alwaies thee attends,In Publique and in Private causes know'n.
Vertues thy Worth, thy Worth Vertues commends;
Which in thy Words and Deeds are daily show'n.
Where-e'r thou goes, so let thy Worth shine forth,
That men may truely still say, There Went-worth.
To Sir Charles Egerton, Knight.
Mov'd (gentle Knight) by thy great Courtesie,And good Report I meet with every where,
I adde these few words to the Memory
Of Him, to whom in kinred thou wert neer;
That Man of Worth, whom lately we did see
England's State-Atlas, Cheshire's Treasurie.
Ex Io. Syl. Anagr. Thomas Egerton. Honors mett Age.
Honors mett Age; and, seeking where to rest,Agreed to lodge and harbor in thy Brest,
74
Ad Ornatissimum Virum, D. Guidonem Palmes, Militem.
If Ornaments thou of the Minde,Or Bodie in the Weigh-scales set,
'Mongst many Thousands thou'll not finde
One, that from Palmes the Palm can get.
Ad D. Franckland.
Still let the Land be Frank to thee,(All rudeness set aside)
75
So well is know'n and try'd.
Ad Hen. Bethell, D. Gualteri Bethell, Militis filium, cum Iustinianum sibi mitterem.
If Learning thou, or Riches would'st obtaine,Iustinian reade: By him thou both mayst gaine.
Ad D. Io: Davies, Militē, Iudicem Itinerariū.
If Plato liv'd, and saw those Heaven-breath'd LinesWhere thou the Essence of the Soule confines,
Or merry Martiall read thy Epigrammes
Where sportingly these looser times thou blames;
Though both excell, yet (in their severall wayes)
They both, ore-come, would yeeld to thee the Praise.
Ad D. Thomam Best.
With happy stars he sure is Blest,Wheresoe'r he goes that still is Best.
76
To Mistris Katherin Dutton, Daughter of M. Dutton, the worthy Alderman of Chester, lately deceased.
A Woman kinde, that is not True,Playes false, and makes her Husband me:
If True she be, and nothing Kinde,
Shee is a Corrasiue to his Minde,
True kindness, and Kinde Truth in one,
Make-up a happy Vnion.
Epitaphium Robini.
Round Robin's gone: And this Grave doth incloseThe Pudding of his Doublet and his Hose.
77
To M. Christopher Moyser.
The Friendship, that betwixt us is begunFor causes iust (which we our selves best knowe)
Will for the same I trust on smoothly run,
And with the time increase, and greater growe.
Of One that (wearing an Hawthorne in his hat to save him from the thunder) was suspected, upon Examination found to be a Priest, and is now in Prison.
A Priest, that he loves thunder might not feare,An Hawthorn garland on his head did weare:
Which him from Cæsars thunder could not hide.
Cæsar with Iove Dominion doth divide:
78
[While fondly thou the Thunder shuns]
While fondly thou the Thunder shunsVpon the Thunder-bolt thou runs:
For, surely God (whom all should praise)
Not outward things, but inward please.
To Mr. Iohn Paget.
Our Friendship strengthned by continuance,And the respect that to thy worth is fit,
Claim in my Writings this rememberance,
That each Page should Iohn Paget haue in it.
In Tortum.
Tortus, accus'd to lie, to feine, and flatter,Said, he but set a good Face on the matter.
Then sure, he borrow'd it: for (tis well knowne)
Tortus ne'r wore a good Face of his owne.
De Seipso.
Surety, what's that? I to my loss have try'd,Who for anothers Debt too Sure am Ty'd:
If this I had Etymologiz'd before,
I never had been shut within this doore.
FINIS.
| Certain Selected Odes Of Horace, Englished | |