 | Poems upon Several Occasions |  |
A PANEGYRICK TO HIS EXCELLENCY General MONCK
March 28. 1660.
Now almost twenty years have roul'd about
Since first the flames of our late Wars broke out;
And Brittain fainting with the losse of blood
Under a lawlesse Yoke subjected stood,
When now at last her groanes by Heav'n are heard
Her fainting Soul and dying Hopes uprear'd;
Her sable night of sorrow done away
By the new dawning of a Royall day.
As from the North her first distemper grew,
Thence flowes the Soveraign Med'cine to renew
Her joyes again: She hopes secure to stand
Upheld by her brave Generall's Warlike hand.
Over the Brittish Seas flyes his great Name
Born on the swift wings of no common fame,
Our Enemies tremble, and our friends are glad,
To these 'tis joyfull newes, to those 'tis sad
The mighty shouts, and the Stentorian voice
Of the glad multitude that now rejoyce
Who wept so long or'e Charles's Funerall pyle
Till his swolne eyes with a Lethargick sleep
Were scal'd up, having no more tears to weep.
He understands the cause of Englands joy
And least Ambition should their hopes destroy
He boldly doth his mind to Monck expresse
And shewes how he may Brittains ills redresse.
The Genius Speech.
Great man by blood, by vertue greater made,Whose presence Banishes the gloomy shade
Of Brittaines night; the faire Aurora too
The Royall Phœbus ushered in by you:
Thy Sword has cut our Chaines of slavery
Thy hands the Gordian knots of Tyranny
Unty'd; thy strenuous Arms unhing'd our Gates
To shew thy strength, the greatest pride abates,
To shew what thou couldst do, that we thereby
Might on thy more than Samson's strength rely:
But what thou didst was at anothers frown,
Thou hung'st them up, that kindnesse was thy owne.
Great Hercules of our Ile at last thou'st slaine
That Hydra never more to rise again,
Though often crush'd, that Monstrous Taile, (which bit
Her own head off) did resurrection git,
But now she's dead, and never more shall rise,
Tryumphs, not teares attend her Obsequies.
And now but one step more and thy great name
Register'd stand shall in the Book of Fame
In so great Characters the world may read
The World too little for thy fame shall be
And Princes honour shall thy name and thee.
See then great Generall, Brittaines Genius now
Before thee stands, and willing is to owe
A happynesse to thee, wherein thou may'st
Raise honour to thy selfe; if thou delay'st,
Time and necessary will thee prevent
And spoyle the lustre of thy great intent.
Now drooping Brittain raises up her head,
Inspir'd by thee she arises from the dead,
Her War-made breaches now are cur'd again,
And joyes and ease succeed her griefe and pain,
Her spotlesse Virgin Chores begin to sing
Jo Pæans in honour to their King:
Faile not her now-bigg hopes but be content
To raise an everlasting Monument
To thee and thy posterity; that bayes
May Crown thy Brows and Ages speake thy praise.
Thou see'st our wants, and what it is wee'd have
It is a King of Charles's race we crave;
Since all the people in one voyce agree,
God's Oracle, 'tis God that asks it thee,
Who having scourg'd poor Brittain for her sin,
Returns her Baulme to cure her wounds agin.
We 'ave try'd, and too too long, a Commonwealth,
Such as it was, a Bane to Englands Health,
Where fifty Tyrants with one mouth agree,
To eat up Law, Religion, Liberty
Monsters that Kings and Bishops Lands devour,
Kept by extorted sums the Nation poor;
Philosophers that changed all to gold,
And let goe nothing that their gripes could hold;
Yet these were they that needs would stiled be
But by thy power great Monck wee'r freed again,
And George most bravely has the Dragon slain.
Ambitious Cromwell put the purple on,
And having slain the Father, rob'd the Son
Of right and title, to a royall Crown,
To set himself up, pul'd another down,
And what he got by rapine, he made good,
Though by Religion cloak'd, by force and blood,
All what our Heroes once contended for,
With the sad tempest of a civill War
Himselfe usurp'd; and gloryed in his pride
To have with peace what was to Kings deny'd;
But yet you see the Nation scourg'd, that God
Renews his mercy and has burn'd his rod,
And Cromwell's name grows odious every where,
Which was obey'd not out of Love, but feare.
Let his example your ambition curb,
Doe not our growing happinesse disturb,
By mounting of a Throne is none of yours,
For be assured that the sacred powers,
Will blast the first fruits of thy tyranny,
Fraud must preserve what's got by policy.
And now our people us'd to subtleties,
To be deceiv'd by crafts are grown too wise,
So that the fates deny thy Regiment,
And people to obey no more are bent,
Till he arises in the Brittish spheare,
Whom all desire the royall Crown to wear.
Thou seest our griefs and knowst the wayes to cure,
Our Maladies, thy Faith we knows too pure
For to be tempted to betray our hopes,
Who doubts thy loyalty, to treason opes
A way; no though tho say'st thou'lt us deceive,
Since one so good and great as Monck must be,
The onely Man can give us liberty.
Brittain in sackcloth has mourn'd long enough,
'Tis time to lay aside the Sword and Buff,
'Tis time to pull those Puny Nobles down,
Who speak against, and yet affect a Crown,
That those by blood and vertue truly great,
May be installed in their long-left seat
These shining in their ermin gallantry,
Beget a reverence due to Majesty.
Now I have done, and you have this to doe,
To bring him in for whom the Nations sue,
Great Charls, who more then by sev'n twelve months try'd,
And in afflictions Furnace purifi'd,
Must come forth brighter then try'd gold, more bright
Then lustrous Sol after a darksome night;
Whose brighter beames of Love shall raise the slain,
And make our Halcyon dayes to live again;
England shall blesse thy name when this is done,
And stile the Phosphor to the rising Sun,
To thee shall Brittain pay her anuall vowes,
Whilst Ducall diadems crown thy Princely brows.
A PANEGYRICK ON HIS MAJESTIES Entrance Into London.
The Heaven's great Star since He saluted EarthWith his diurnal Light, ne'r yet gave Birth
To such a joyfull Day, as that wherein
Charles to his native England came ag'in.
His loyall Subjects Hearts grown big with joy
The best expressions of their Love imploy,
To give a cherefull welcome to their King,
From whose arivall all our blessings Spring,
Whilst Foes, and Traytors to his royall Sire,
Grown mad through Envie, in their rage expire.
Now Phœbus ushers in the happy day,
Which for posterity recorded may
In golden letters ever stand; and bee
A festival for regain'd libertie;
And gilding all the Heavens with his Rayes,
Dispenses smiles, Serenity displayes.
Revived Subjects throng to see their pr'ze,
Joy sparkles in their faces, and their eyes:
Their tongues, and hands with powerfull Eccohs sound
The Aire is fill'd on every side with noyse;
The voyce of Warr, and death now speaks their joyes.
The Bells have tongues, which sound our Joys aloud,
And say that Charles is come: the Drums are proud
To speak his march. The silver Trumpets say
Charles o're three Kingdoms doth tryumph to day:
Which conquest got by vertues has more charms
To hold a lasting peace, than that by Armes.
London in all its gallantry doth shine,
Conduits convert their water into wine.
Adorn'd the female beauties of the Land
To see their Soveraign in Ballconies stand,
The bravest Heroes of the Brittish Isle
Usher our Cæsar through the streets the while;
Whose sacred face with beams of Majesty
Surrounded, far out-vies the bravery
Of his adornments: and the lustrous fire
Of's eyes dismays those who deny'd his sire
And him to reign; now they their folly see
Converted by one look of Majesty.
Ten thousand Hearts and knees doe humbly bow,
As he goes by; each heart a solemne vow
Prepare, of praise, and of obedience too,
For long and happy dayes to Heav'en they sue.
Long live great Charles, and may his sacred Name,
Swell to that worth, not to be spoke by Fame,
May Nestors years his Happy reign attend!
May heav'ns his brest with Solomons choyce befriend!
The people cry. Loud shouts conclude the day,
Phœbus to th' other world hasts to display
The joyfull news: Night now would take her turn,
But flaming fires in every Corner burne,
Which Night to Day change: Phœbus place supply,
'Tis true whilst Charles possesses his own right,
That loyall Brittains can expect no night.
Our regall Sun, since Charles the first was slain,
Ecclips'd has been, but now shines bright again.
By Heav'n enthron'd thus, in his peoples hearts,
He shall withstand all Machivilian Arts:
Laurells of peace about his brows shall spread,
And three great Crowns surround his royall Head.
Ita Precatur S. P.
SOME TEARS Dropt o're the Herse OF THE INCOMPARABLE Prince HENRY DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.
Fatal September to the Royal Line,Has snatch'd one Herôe of our hopefull Trine
From Earth; 'tis strange Heaven should not præ-declare
A loss so grievous by some Blazing Star,
Which might our Senses overjoy'd, alar'm,
And time give to prepare for so great Harm.
The Spring-tide of our Joy was newly Flood,
Paying our Thankful Vows for so much good
VVe gather now, under a gracious KING;
Inspired Bards began strong Lays to Sing,
And Epiques chang'd to Doleful Elegies.
Cruel Extremes! thus robb'd of Joyes the chief,
Thrown down like Light'ning into Seas of Grief.
'Tis past the reach of Mortals to divine,
VVhy Heav'n so soon has broke our Threefold Line;
VVe may not pry without a black offence
Into th' Arcana's of his Providence,
But may believe, since with a Bounteous Hand
God has restor'd the Blessings of this Land,
That he has flung us into Griefs extreme,
Not out of VVrath to Us, but Love to Him.
He was Fair Fruit sprung from a Royal Bud,
And grown as great by fair Renown as Blood;
Ripe too too soon; for in a Youth so green
An Harvest was of gray-hair'd VVisdome seen.
Minerva's Darling, Patron of the Gown,
Lover of Learning, and Apollo's Crown
He was; the Muses he began to nourish,
Learn'd Men and Arts under his wings did flourish;
But lest we should commit Idolatry,
Heav'n took him from our Sight, not Memory;
For though he's carried to th Immortal Sphere,
Our Loves will make his Fame Immortal here.
'Tis Autumn now: and Ceres to our hands
Has pour'd the Annual Blessings of our Lands;
VVe'ave robb'd the teeming Trees of all their fruit,
And left them naked till the Spring recruit
Their store again; till then they hang their head,
And stand like Mourners, leaves for tears they shed;
So the high powers cropt from the Royal Stem,
VVhat was too good for us, and fit for them,
VVh'lest we lament, till a new Spring arise,
And CHARLES his First-born clear our weeping eyes.
Amazedness hast struck the Laureats dumb:
And who would weep, through too much Grief forbears,
Excess of Grief gives yet no vent for Tears,
But when the coming Springs begin to rise,
Grief then will draw a deluge from our Eyes;
Till then these Loyal Drops fall'n into Verse,
Shall wash the Cypress on his Royal Herse.
POEMS ON Several Occasions.
His Mistress.
As
Phœbus doth excell the Moons dim light,
Or as the Moon excells the dullest Star,
Her Beauty, and Complexion in my sight
Excells all others I have seen, so far:
Her Sun-like beams of beauty shine so bright,
That others in her sight Eclipsed are
The fairest faces are but foiles, each one
Weares but a borrow'd lustre from her Sun.
Or as the Moon excells the dullest Star,
Her Beauty, and Complexion in my sight
Excells all others I have seen, so far:
Her Sun-like beams of beauty shine so bright,
That others in her sight Eclipsed are
The fairest faces are but foiles, each one
Weares but a borrow'd lustre from her Sun.
Her Shape in Wax it were most hard to frame,
Nor Painters to expresse their rarest Skill
Could ever counterfeit so neer the same,
But blemish their's her better Beauty will;
Though Venus who for Beauty had the Name
Compare with her should, she'd be fairest still;
Paris gave her the Ball as beauties Queen,
But she had mist it had he mine but Seen.
Nor Painters to expresse their rarest Skill
Could ever counterfeit so neer the same,
But blemish their's her better Beauty will;
Though Venus who for Beauty had the Name
Compare with her should, she'd be fairest still;
Paris gave her the Ball as beauties Queen,
But she had mist it had he mine but Seen.
Her Aubourn Hair in Crisped Curles doe dangle
Upon her Ivory shoulders, where it spreads
Sly nets, where Hearts themselves doe soon intangle,
And captive lye, enchain'd by those bright threads,
Spreading soft chaines, and snares in every angle,
It takes all Hearts, whose eye those mazes treads:
Hearts here imprison'd (never can get out)
Those soft Meandres wander must about.
Upon her Ivory shoulders, where it spreads
Sly nets, where Hearts themselves doe soon intangle,
Spreading soft chaines, and snares in every angle,
It takes all Hearts, whose eye those mazes treads:
Hearts here imprison'd (never can get out)
Those soft Meandres wander must about.
Her Ivory-pollish'd Front with seemly cheere,
Grac'd at the bottom with a double bow,
Where all the Graces in their Throne appeare,
Where Love, and awfull Majesty doe grow,
Expands it self, and shews a feild more clear,
Than Candid Lillys, or the virgin snow;
Her Eyes like Suns shoot rayes more sharp than Darts,
Which wound all Flinty, Love-despising Hearts.
Grac'd at the bottom with a double bow,
Where all the Graces in their Throne appeare,
Where Love, and awfull Majesty doe grow,
Expands it self, and shews a feild more clear,
Than Candid Lillys, or the virgin snow;
Her Eyes like Suns shoot rayes more sharp than Darts,
Which wound all Flinty, Love-despising Hearts.
Those twinkling Stars, those sparkling Diamond stones,
Those glorious Suns, where dwells the Eastern Light,
Peirce with the vigor of their Charmes the bones
Of daring Him, who gains of them a sight;
Beholding Kills, yet he their losse bemones,
And 'd rather dye, than they shut live in Night.
Her Nose a comly Prominence, doth part
Her Cheeks, the mirrour of Dame Natures Art.
Those glorious Suns, where dwells the Eastern Light,
Peirce with the vigor of their Charmes the bones
Of daring Him, who gains of them a sight;
Beholding Kills, yet he their losse bemones,
And 'd rather dye, than they shut live in Night.
Her Nose a comly Prominence, doth part
Her Cheeks, the mirrour of Dame Natures Art.
Her cheeks are damask Roses blown in June,
B'ing equally with Virgin Lillies mix't;
Or snowy milk with blushing Strawb'ries strewn,
Where equall strife the red, and white's betwixt;
Or pure ver million on white Sattin shewn,
By Painters rarest Skill, and pencil fix't:
Those cheeks no Colours livelest dye can paint,
Scarlet, and snow seem to their true ones faint.
B'ing equally with Virgin Lillies mix't;
Or snowy milk with blushing Strawb'ries strewn,
Where equall strife the red, and white's betwixt;
Or pure ver million on white Sattin shewn,
By Painters rarest Skill, and pencil fix't:
Those cheeks no Colours livelest dye can paint,
Scarlet, and snow seem to their true ones faint.
Her lipps are snips of Scarlet, Juliflowers,
Spread with the tincture of Vermilion hew,
Bless'd in Self-kisses; past our humane powers
To touch; so high a bliss what Mortal knew?
Between those rubie Gates slide spicy showers,
Which, those slain by her eyes, with life imbue:
Angellick sounds, and charming smiles, so nice,
Thence flow which make her presence Paradice.
Bless'd in Self-kisses; past our humane powers
To touch; so high a bliss what Mortal knew?
Between those rubie Gates slide spicy showers,
Which, those slain by her eyes, with life imbue:
Angellick sounds, and charming smiles, so nice,
Thence flow which make her presence Paradice.
Within the portal of her Mouth's lock'd fast,
(Which when she sings she is enforc'd to show)
The Orient's Treasure in due order plac'd,
Of more than precious pearles a double row;
Which stand in Sea-born Coral borders chac'd,
Like Crimson Sattin purl'd with silver snow.
Her smooth, and dimpled Chin doth under lye,
Where envies self cannot a fault espie.
(Which when she sings she is enforc'd to show)
The Orient's Treasure in due order plac'd,
Of more than precious pearles a double row;
Which stand in Sea-born Coral borders chac'd,
Like Crimson Sattin purl'd with silver snow.
Her smooth, and dimpled Chin doth under lye,
Where envies self cannot a fault espie.
Her Neck's a gracefull Tower of spotlesse snow,
An Alablaster prop to that fair head,
Where Witt, Arts, Wisdome in perfection grow,
Its Basis where are beauties also spread;
For azure streams through milky feilds do flow,
Where blew, with white like Heav'n is married:
Her Breasts like lilly'd Globes, or Mounts appear,
VVhose summetts Crown'd with Crimson cheries are.
An Alablaster prop to that fair head,
Where Witt, Arts, Wisdome in perfection grow,
Its Basis where are beauties also spread;
For azure streams through milky feilds do flow,
Where blew, with white like Heav'n is married:
Her Breasts like lilly'd Globes, or Mounts appear,
VVhose summetts Crown'd with Crimson cheries are.
Her Arms due measure of proportion have,
Her hands the types of snowy Excellence
VVith Onyx tip'd; her leggs, and feet enslave
Our eyes, and Captive hold from falling thence:
Her whole frames equall Symetry is brave,
And to spectators payes a recompence:
Argus himself cannot discerne the rest,
But I presume the hidden beauties best.
Her hands the types of snowy Excellence
VVith Onyx tip'd; her leggs, and feet enslave
Our eyes, and Captive hold from falling thence:
Her whole frames equall Symetry is brave,
And to spectators payes a recompence:
Argus himself cannot discerne the rest,
But I presume the hidden beauties best.
The Protestation.
Before bright Phœbus had his beams display'd,
Whilst yet Aurora usher'd in the Day,
The prat'ling Eccho to my ears betray'd,
As I among the trees in ambush lay,
The amorous whispers of Amintas, who
With protestation did his Cloris wooe.
Whilst yet Aurora usher'd in the Day,
The prat'ling Eccho to my ears betray'd,
As I among the trees in ambush lay,
The amorous whispers of Amintas, who
With protestation did his Cloris wooe.
What went before I cannot tell, but she
Reply'd to something that Amintas say'd,
The murm'ring Eccho by the Air to me
These gentle sounds in whispering notes convey'd.
Alas! Amintas would that you could prove
To my distrustfull Heart that men can love.
Reply'd to something that Amintas say'd,
The murm'ring Eccho by the Air to me
These gentle sounds in whispering notes convey'd.
Alas! Amintas would that you could prove
To my distrustfull Heart that men can love.
How oft are wee poor sily maids beguil'd
By charmes of flattering words? when wee beleive
To break their oaths men will not be so vild,
Being so poor a conquest to deceive
Disarmed virgins? when wee them reward
With Love, they'r cold, and us with scorn regard.
By charmes of flattering words? when wee beleive
To break their oaths men will not be so vild,
Being so poor a conquest to deceive
Disarmed virgins? when wee them reward
With Love, they'r cold, and us with scorn regard.
Tis best to keep our own, for when wee yeild
Our Hearts, men supplyants soon forget to be,
And our affections caught, with scorn repell'd
We are subjected to their tyranny:
That maid is more then mad who will be kind,
To men, who waver oftner than the Wind.
Our Hearts, men supplyants soon forget to be,
And our affections caught, with scorn repell'd
We are subjected to their tyranny:
That maid is more then mad who will be kind,
To men, who waver oftner than the Wind.
Blame not our Natures, but your follies blame,
For we should sooner yeild were Men more true,
But since weak virgins to deceive no shame
They think; denialls Cruelty is due.
But yet Amintas would that you could prove
To my distrustfull Heart your constant love.
For we should sooner yeild were Men more true,
But since weak virgins to deceive no shame
They think; denialls Cruelty is due.
But yet Amintas would that you could prove
To my distrustfull Heart your constant love.
Amintas with a sigh reply'd. 'Tis true,
Some men are faulty in what you accuse them,
But let not all be blamed for a few,
Nor Woemen men despise, 'cause some abuse them.
For if I went about it, I could prove,
Men equal Weomen in a constant Love.
Some men are faulty in what you accuse them,
But let not all be blamed for a few,
Nor Woemen men despise, 'cause some abuse them.
For if I went about it, I could prove,
Men equal Weomen in a constant Love.
Our sexe's cause I will not plead; my own
With you, sweet Cloris, will I only plead,
My constant Love must by Obedience shown
Be; else I cann't be truly scann'd till dead:
Constant obedience 'tis doth rightly prove,
A Heart's possessor of a constant Love.
With you, sweet Cloris, will I only plead,
My constant Love must by Obedience shown
Be; else I cann't be truly scann'd till dead:
Constant obedience 'tis doth rightly prove,
A Heart's possessor of a constant Love.
Things that the least of drossy mixture hold,
Last longest; my Hearts flames Ætherial be,
More pure than seven times refined Gold,
Than Cedar's flames: rays of a Deitie
They are. It is the purity of Love
Which best of all its constancy can prove.
Last longest; my Hearts flames Ætherial be,
More pure than seven times refined Gold,
Than Cedar's flames: rays of a Deitie
They are. It is the purity of Love
Which best of all its constancy can prove.
My love like Adamant endure the stroke
Of strong repulses shall; full draughts of smiles,
Nor worlds of beauties, shall my Heart provoke
T' inconstant Change; nor all th' intising guiles
A proffer'd Love can give. The world shall be
First chang'd, e're I yeild to Inconstancie.
Of strong repulses shall; full draughts of smiles,
Nor worlds of beauties, shall my Heart provoke
T' inconstant Change; nor all th' intising guiles
A proffer'd Love can give. The world shall be
First chang'd, e're I yeild to Inconstancie.
The twinkling tapours of the Night shall fall
First from their azure lodging; Hecate
Shall loose her light, and a perpetual
Mask weare of pitch; And Heav'ns bright lamp shall be
With darknesse overcome: Night into Day
Shall change; and cold November into May.
First from their azure lodging; Hecate
Shall loose her light, and a perpetual
Mask weare of pitch; And Heav'ns bright lamp shall be
With darknesse overcome: Night into Day
Shall change; and cold November into May.
The Sun shall backward course the VVorld about,
The fire shall cease combustibles to burn,
Soft gales shall put the flinty Rocks to rout,
And Neptune shall his fry to grasing turn,
Mountaines to Vailes; valleys to Hills shall rise,
Plaines shall be made of Craggs that touch the Skies.
The fire shall cease combustibles to burn,
Soft gales shall put the flinty Rocks to rout,
And Neptune shall his fry to grasing turn,
Mountaines to Vailes; valleys to Hills shall rise,
Plaines shall be made of Craggs that touch the Skies.
All beasts shall Metamorphos'd into stones
Be, and all Mortalls shall their exit prove,
Tormented Souls shall cease to fetch sad groans,
The Heav'ns rent from their center first shall move,
E're I to thee fair Cloris be unkind,
Repent me of my love, or change my mind.
Be, and all Mortalls shall their exit prove,
Tormented Souls shall cease to fetch sad groans,
The Heav'ns rent from their center first shall move,
E're I to thee fair Cloris be unkind,
Repent me of my love, or change my mind.
My Tongue may't faulter, may my lipps ne're move,
If unto other but to thee they shall
Make protestations of a Serious love!
Cloris beleive! I Heav'ns to witnesse call!
The Maid converted joyn'd her lips to his,
Gath'ring the first fruits of a greater bliss.
If unto other but to thee they shall
Make protestations of a Serious love!
Cloris beleive! I Heav'ns to witnesse call!
The Maid converted joyn'd her lips to his,
Gath'ring the first fruits of a greater bliss.
The Passionate Lover
Had I but winde and Lungs enough to tell
How much I Love; Had I a Stentor's voyce,
Had I ten thousand Tongues it would doe well,
To speak how much I Love my dearest Choyce,
Since wholly fill'd, If I should not impart
Loves might, its energy would break my Heart.
How much I Love; Had I a Stentor's voyce,
Had I ten thousand Tongues it would doe well,
To speak how much I Love my dearest Choyce,
Since wholly fill'd, If I should not impart
Loves might, its energy would break my Heart.
Say my five senses has not Love's delight
Bound all your powers with its amourous chains,
Disarm'd your Subjects? Spoyl'd and robb'd you quite?
Can you ought rellish but Love's pleasing paines?
You now disgust all objects of this Ball,
Phillis is th' only object of you all.
Bound all your powers with its amourous chains,
Disarm'd your Subjects? Spoyl'd and robb'd you quite?
Can you ought rellish but Love's pleasing paines?
You now disgust all objects of this Ball,
Phillis is th' only object of you all.
When that my eye has light on Phillis face,
It tells my amorous Heart news good, or bad;
By which or well th' alarm'd pulses Pace,
Or ill: my looks by it are light, or sad:
Doth sorrow dimm the Light of Phillis eye,
Joys, and Contentment from my Bosome fly.
It tells my amorous Heart news good, or bad;
By which or well th' alarm'd pulses Pace,
Or ill: my looks by it are light, or sad:
Doth sorrow dimm the Light of Phillis eye,
Joys, and Contentment from my Bosome fly.
Does threatning Anger, or disdaine appear
Cloath'd in the Tyrian blushes in her Cheeks,
No Poet's art in verse can paint my fear,
Nor th' Horror and dismay my vitalls strikes:
I dumb, and movelesse like a statue show
Struck with the Thunder of her Angry brow
Cloath'd in the Tyrian blushes in her Cheeks,
No Poet's art in verse can paint my fear,
Nor th' Horror and dismay my vitalls strikes:
I dumb, and movelesse like a statue show
Struck with the Thunder of her Angry brow
The fearfull Light'ning, nor the dreadfull voyce
Of roaring Thunder, nor the horrid Night,
Nor Ghosts, nor Goblins, nor tempestuous noise
Of windes, nor Earthquakes can my senses fright,
So much as when Phyllis with anger glows,
And from her quick Eyes scorn-tip't Arrows throws.
Of roaring Thunder, nor the horrid Night,
Nor Ghosts, nor Goblins, nor tempestuous noise
Of windes, nor Earthquakes can my senses fright,
So much as when Phyllis with anger glows,
And from her quick Eyes scorn-tip't Arrows throws.
If pleasing smiles sit on their rubie Throne,
If Joy is painted on her smoother brow,
My senses wrapt beyond the Sphears, are thrown
On bedds of pleasure; and forget all woe:
With lesse Content the Miser doth behold
His Stuffed Chests, and full-cram'd bags of Gold.
If Joy is painted on her smoother brow,
My senses wrapt beyond the Sphears, are thrown
On bedds of pleasure; and forget all woe:
With lesse Content the Miser doth behold
His Stuffed Chests, and full-cram'd bags of Gold.
My Eyes devou're each smile; the more they gaze
On Hers, the more Contentment still they draw;
Her smiles the clue that leads me in that maze:
Her eyes give my obsequious Heart a Law:
For by her smiles, or Frownes I meet delight
Or Woe; or mirth or Grief; or Day or Night.
On Hers, the more Contentment still they draw;
Her smiles the clue that leads me in that maze:
Her eyes give my obsequious Heart a Law:
For by her smiles, or Frownes I meet delight
Or Woe; or mirth or Grief; or Day or Night.
Seek all the World for pleasing objects, and
Dive to the bottom of the deepest Seas,
Fetch all the Treasures of the Indian strand,
The world's best Beauties, none my fancy please
Can, like the Heaven of a pleasing smile,
Which kills me with excesse of Joy the while.
Dive to the bottom of the deepest Seas,
Fetch all the Treasures of the Indian strand,
The world's best Beauties, none my fancy please
Can, like the Heaven of a pleasing smile,
Which kills me with excesse of Joy the while.
The sparkling Diamonds of the East I prize
Below the value of her pretty Starrs,
There comes far richer glances from her eyes,
Her lipps than Pegues, better Rubies wears;
Who round the World for daintest Roses seeks,
May finde them growing in my Phyllis cheeks.
Below the value of her pretty Starrs,
There comes far richer glances from her eyes,
Her lipps than Pegues, better Rubies wears;
Who round the World for daintest Roses seeks,
May finde them growing in my Phyllis cheeks.
The richest Treasures of the Earth seem poor;
Pearles, Gold, and Diamonds Natur's richest Gems,
The World's great Treasurie, and Neptunes store,
A Lover (such as I) far lesse esteems
Than th object of his Love: for more delight
Than in all these I take in Phyllis sight.
Pearles, Gold, and Diamonds Natur's richest Gems,
The World's great Treasurie, and Neptunes store,
A Lover (such as I) far lesse esteems
Than th object of his Love: for more delight
Than in all these I take in Phyllis sight.
But when the sweeter Musick of her tongue,
Like the blest voyce of Angels, strikes my ears,
I harken us to Oracles; a strang
Lute in the hands of Orpheus; the Spheares
Sweet Melody; the smooth tongu'd Orator,
Seem but a duller Harmonie to Her.
Like the blest voyce of Angels, strikes my ears,
I harken us to Oracles; a strang
Lute in the hands of Orpheus; the Spheares
Sweet Melody; the smooth tongu'd Orator,
Seem but a duller Harmonie to Her.
She charms me to a statue, and amaz'd
With so much Eloquence, dumb I return
No answers but by eyes; my soul is rais'd
Beyond the sphear of Words: though joy'd I mourn
To hear her pause, or periodize her speech:
I then her to begin ag'in beseech.
With so much Eloquence, dumb I return
No answers but by eyes; my soul is rais'd
Beyond the sphear of Words: though joy'd I mourn
To hear her pause, or periodize her speech:
I then her to begin ag'in beseech.
When in the sweetest quavers of a song
Her voyce she raises, and with matchlesse straines
Runs o're division with her warbling Tongue;
Hearts she (as stones. Amphion's musick) gaines.
Harps, Harpsicall, all Violls, Organes, Lute,
Trumpets, and all noyse else for shame be mute.
Her voyce she raises, and with matchlesse straines
Runs o're division with her warbling Tongue;
Hearts she (as stones. Amphion's musick) gaines.
Harps, Harpsicall, all Violls, Organes, Lute,
Trumpets, and all noyse else for shame be mute.
Cease duller straines, all other voyces cease,
Sweet Philomel, I pre'thee hold thy tongue;
You early Larkes, and Thrushes hold your peace;
The best of Musick, and of Birds among
The humane, and the feather'd Chores, your choyce
Layes, rev'rence doe unto her sweeter voyce.
Sweet Philomel, I pre'thee hold thy tongue;
You early Larkes, and Thrushes hold your peace;
The best of Musick, and of Birds among
The humane, and the feather'd Chores, your choyce
Layes, rev'rence doe unto her sweeter voyce.
Though all the Musick in the World should be
By Musick-masters of the rarest kinde
Finger'd, my eares would taste no Harmonie,
No joy my soul, nor no content my mind,
(Nor the Angelick Songs by me I feare
So priz'd) like that when I her Sonnets hear.
By Musick-masters of the rarest kinde
Finger'd, my eares would taste no Harmonie,
No joy my soul, nor no content my mind,
(Nor the Angelick Songs by me I feare
So priz'd) like that when I her Sonnets hear.
Had Sickness prison'd me in my Chamber long,
Or bound with closer fetters to my Bed,
As some by musick cur'd, I by a Song
Chaunted by her divine mouth, should be fed
With that Ambrosiack Essence, that would give
Ease to my paines, and dying make me live.
Or bound with closer fetters to my Bed,
As some by musick cur'd, I by a Song
Chaunted by her divine mouth, should be fed
With that Ambrosiack Essence, that would give
Ease to my paines, and dying make me live.
My Ear then ravish'd equal with my eye,
Counts all sounds harsh, but her sweet Musick, and
Commands all others to her melody
To vaile, and to her notes attentive stand;
As high Apollo to the Muses, she
(Or Philomel 'mong other Birds) must be.
Counts all sounds harsh, but her sweet Musick, and
Commands all others to her melody
To vaile, and to her notes attentive stand;
As high Apollo to the Muses, she
(Or Philomel 'mong other Birds) must be.
The fragrant blasts of spicy Arabie,
Panchæan Myrrh, Musk, Civet, Ambergreece,
All the perfumes of Indian Spicerie,
Must to the Sweetness of her breath give place:
Flora's sweet garlands in the Month of May,
No such delicious gales of sweetness pay.
Panchæan Myrrh, Musk, Civet, Ambergreece,
All the perfumes of Indian Spicerie,
Must to the Sweetness of her breath give place:
Flora's sweet garlands in the Month of May,
No such delicious gales of sweetness pay.
My Soul, as if exhal'd by her sweet breath,
Flies to that membrane which receieves the sent,
Raising the sluggish fantasie from Death,
Revives the braine, and gives my Genius vent:
The cherishing Odors her sweet Hybla yields,
Excel the Diapasma's of the fields.
Flies to that membrane which receieves the sent,
Raising the sluggish fantasie from Death,
Revives the braine, and gives my Genius vent:
The cherishing Odors her sweet Hybla yields,
Excel the Diapasma's of the fields.
My soul upon no other food can feed,
But the rich Banquet, and delicious fare
Of her sweet presence, when before her spread;
Then eas'd from trouble, free from duller care
She feeds: the Stomach can no dainties tast,
Nor hunger, whilst this better Banquet lasts.
But the rich Banquet, and delicious fare
Of her sweet presence, when before her spread;
Then eas'd from trouble, free from duller care
She feeds: the Stomach can no dainties tast,
Nor hunger, whilst this better Banquet lasts.
When that with ardent boldnesse I aspire
To touch with my profaner lips, her hand,
I think no blisses, in the World are higher,
No joys to that in competition stand:
My soul enflam'd, into my lips doth fly,
Whilst on that bed of Lillies soft they lye.
To touch with my profaner lips, her hand,
I think no blisses, in the World are higher,
No joys to that in competition stand:
My soul enflam'd, into my lips doth fly,
Whilst on that bed of Lillies soft they lye.
But when (a favour, seldome shown) I kiss
The seat of smiles, her tender rubie lips,
Joye spirits dilates, and I expire in blisse;
Call'd back again from Death by an ecclips
Of so great ravishment, through a withdraw,
As much as Joy did, grief now breaks the Law.
The seat of smiles, her tender rubie lips,
Joye spirits dilates, and I expire in blisse;
Call'd back again from Death by an ecclips
Of so great ravishment, through a withdraw,
As much as Joy did, grief now breaks the Law.
Thus my five senses banquet at that feast
Of beauty, which shines in my Phillis face;
My passionate Heart swells high within my breast,
And grows too tumid for its strickt embrace,
Oh! cloud my Phillis! hide her from my eye,
Of too much pleasure I with surfeit dye.
Of beauty, which shines in my Phillis face;
My passionate Heart swells high within my breast,
And grows too tumid for its strickt embrace,
Oh! cloud my Phillis! hide her from my eye,
Of too much pleasure I with surfeit dye.
CORYDONS Complaint.
Those joys that us'd to flatter me
ô Phyllis when I courted thee,
Under yon' shady beechen tree
To cruell grief are chang'd
ô Phyllis when I courted thee,
Under yon' shady beechen tree
To cruell grief are chang'd
Torments my pleasures; griefs my joy,
Pains my quiet rest destroy,
Since thou'rt to Corydon grown coy,
And from my Love estrang'd
Pains my quiet rest destroy,
Since thou'rt to Corydon grown coy,
And from my Love estrang'd
Did e're I your commands neglect?
That thus my sute you now reject,
And pay my love with disrespect,
My kindness with disdain?
That thus my sute you now reject,
And pay my love with disrespect,
My kindness with disdain?
Say how I purchace may releife,
Or murther'd must I be by grief?
Speak that my torments may be brief;
Give death to ease my pain.
Or murther'd must I be by grief?
Speak that my torments may be brief;
Give death to ease my pain.
If you are pleas'd to martyr me,
Or binde me unto slavery,
There is another tyranny
That you may exercise;
Or binde me unto slavery,
There is another tyranny
That you may exercise;
Those burning flames, your eyes can give:
A Slave, bound by Loves Chaines I live
May, without Hope of a reprieve;
Thus you may tyrannize.
A Slave, bound by Loves Chaines I live
May, without Hope of a reprieve;
Thus you may tyrannize.
Since that my words are spent in vain,
Whilest Cruel you laugh at my pain,
I at the feet of your disdain
Will fall, and prostrate lye.
Whilest Cruel you laugh at my pain,
I at the feet of your disdain
Will fall, and prostrate lye.
Henceforth I'le banish all my pleasure,
Since you the chiefest of my Treasure,
Have heap'd my Griefs beyond all Measure,
I'le yield to destiny.
Since you the chiefest of my Treasure,
Have heap'd my Griefs beyond all Measure,
I'le yield to destiny.
To SYLVIA Weeping.
Fair
Sylvia, you possess more Treasures than
The rubie Last; those weeping eyes more Gems
Than the rich Store house of the Ocean,
For you at pleasure can those Chrystal streams
VVhich trickle from the fountaines of your eyes
Convert int' orient pearls; but richer prize.
The rubie Last; those weeping eyes more Gems
Than the rich Store house of the Ocean,
For you at pleasure can those Chrystal streams
VVhich trickle from the fountaines of your eyes
Convert int' orient pearls; but richer prize.
VVhat taking charmes lye in your sweeter Face,
When freed from cloudy-weeping Griefs you smile
VVith a clear brow! If tears with such a grace
Become? if so much lustre has the foile
To Beauty? what excess of Glory then
VVill bud from those sweet lights when fair agen?
When freed from cloudy-weeping Griefs you smile
VVith a clear brow! If tears with such a grace
Become? if so much lustre has the foile
To Beauty? what excess of Glory then
VVill bud from those sweet lights when fair agen?
Now the (like silver'd Cynonthia's beauty, when
The interposing Earth hides her bright face)
Dost suffer an Ecclipse; thy tears restrain
Thy beauties radiant beams; Tears fill the place
Of bounteous Light; yet is that shadow fair;
Others with which (at best) may not compare.
The interposing Earth hides her bright face)
Dost suffer an Ecclipse; thy tears restrain
Thy beauties radiant beams; Tears fill the place
Of bounteous Light; yet is that shadow fair;
Others with which (at best) may not compare.
Phœbus now hides behind a watery cloud
His brighter head; by which we better may
Gaze on his Light: thy suns (fair Sylvia) shroud
Themselves behind a cloud of Tears to day;
Out of like kindness, and suppress their bright
And splendid beams, to favour my weak sight.
His brighter head; by which we better may
Gaze on his Light: thy suns (fair Sylvia) shroud
Themselves behind a cloud of Tears to day;
Out of like kindness, and suppress their bright
And splendid beams, to favour my weak sight.
Enough, fair Sylvia! clear those Cynthian Lights,
From that ecclipse of sorrow; wipe away
That hanging cloud of Tears; which still excites
Your stillborne Grief such pearly price to pay:
VVere you enflam'd with scorching Love, as I,
Its ardor soon those dewy pearls would dry.
From that ecclipse of sorrow; wipe away
Your stillborne Grief such pearly price to pay:
VVere you enflam'd with scorching Love, as I,
Its ardor soon those dewy pearls would dry.
After Aurora with her silver showers
Has wash'd her Grandame Tellus chapped face,
A pleasant Zephyrus the dark Heaven scoures,
And Sol steps out with a far greater Grace:
After a Storm fair weather doth succeed;
Let sable Grief your whiter Joys then breed.
Has wash'd her Grandame Tellus chapped face,
A pleasant Zephyrus the dark Heaven scoures,
And Sol steps out with a far greater Grace:
After a Storm fair weather doth succeed;
Let sable Grief your whiter Joys then breed.
I long to see those fairer Suns to shine,
Freed from the dewy moisture of a Tear,
Now they would seem (after this) more divine,
As Phœbus after an eclips more clear:
Let Day the Night succeed, and cease to mourn,
Banish Grief's night, whilst Joy's day takes its turn.
Freed from the dewy moisture of a Tear,
Now they would seem (after this) more divine,
As Phœbus after an eclips more clear:
Let Day the Night succeed, and cease to mourn,
Banish Grief's night, whilst Joy's day takes its turn.
THYRSIS in despaire.
Sad night of sorrow! sable night of grief!For Lovers torments is there no releif?
Must still my bitter food be grief, and fears?
My thirst quench'd howerly with my brinie tears?
No glimmering of the Day of hope arise!
Nothing but darkness muffle up the skies
From my numm'd sight? I in the Bed of care
Do roul; distress behems me round; dispaire
Like curtains shuts me up. Come pale fac'd Hag,
And let not leaden plummets make thee lag:
With open arms I doe embrace thy Dart,
Which can give physick to my wounded Heart.
They say grief that descends to words is weak
Mine is grown so I can no farther speak.
But by my Death I to Corinna prove
Will, that she tryumphs o're me and my Love.
ABSENCE.
Such is the melancholly Earth, when lightFlies thence, and leaves its room to sable night;
VVhen darkness, Cold and Shadows dwell upon
Her Surface; some pale glimerings of the Moon
Is all she can expect; a mourner then
She is 'till Phœbus brings his day agen:
Such is the matchless, mateless Turtle Dove,
Sighing its murmurs for its absent Love:
Such is the body when the Soul is fled:
Such Pyramus supposing Thisbe dead:
Such the male Palm the female broken down,
As I am now, my fairest Sylvia's gon.
My wither'd Head declines apace, my greem
And growing youth to sprout no more is seen.
My blood's grown cold, and frozen; every limb
As if it wanted heat, and life doth seem.
My hoarse complaints the very rocks do move,
VVho eccho the last accents of my Love.
A silent night inhabits my sad breast,
And now no chearful thought will be my guest.
Till her return, whose eyes will cause a day,
Thus must I in my own unquiet stay;
Wishing for the bright morning, which must rise
From th' Luminaries of fair Sylvia's eyes.
DAPHNIS Fled.
I'le eccho in the tell-tale groves
Lycidas and Daphnis Loves
Now she has left this place;
Goe grave names in the tender rinde
VVhisper my trouble to the VVinde,
He'l tell where Daphnis stays:
Lycidas and Daphnis Loves
Now she has left this place;
Goe grave names in the tender rinde
VVhisper my trouble to the VVinde,
He'l tell where Daphnis stays:
Send kisses by the Soft lipp'd aire,
Begg charming Philomel to stay her
VVith raptures of her voyce:
Bid Zephyrus gently hold her back;
Smooth fronted sand to shew her track,
That thus forsakes her choyce.
Begg charming Philomel to stay her
VVith raptures of her voyce:
Bid Zephyrus gently hold her back;
Smooth fronted sand to shew her track,
That thus forsakes her choyce.
Not all the charmes the spring affords,
The pleasures of delicious gourds,
Flora's enamell'd dress,
Or what is beautifull and fair,
Or what delights above compare,
Can sorrow dispossess.
The pleasures of delicious gourds,
Flora's enamell'd dress,
Or what is beautifull and fair,
Or what delights above compare,
Can sorrow dispossess.
For Nature now's unkind to me,
And my request denies I see,
For Daphnis will away,
In vain I prattle out my plaints,
She cannot hear my loud laments,
Nor would they cause her stay.
And my request denies I see,
For Daphnis will away,
In vain I prattle out my plaints,
She cannot hear my loud laments,
Nor would they cause her stay.
By yonder spring down will I lye,
VVhilst one as great flows from my eye,
To mingle with its stream
Till her return, thence I'le not move
But weep the absence of my Love,
VVith waves as great as them
VVhilst one as great flows from my eye,
Till her return, thence I'le not move
But weep the absence of my Love,
VVith waves as great as them
If my soul flyes out in a tear,
And she returnes, and that you hear
Her call a loud for me,
Good Nymph that answers him that speaks,
Say if that Lycidas she seeks,
Hee's joyn'd to Niobe.
And she returnes, and that you hear
Her call a loud for me,
Good Nymph that answers him that speaks,
Say if that Lycidas she seeks,
Hee's joyn'd to Niobe.
To LUCIA playing on her LUTE.
Great Orpheus when he struck his Ivory Lyre,Drew all the Savage Creatures to admire
The sweetnesse of his charming Musick; and
Forgetting their fierce natures tamely stand.
The Wolfe, Lamb, Lyon, and the Kid agree
To Love, whilst charm'd by his sweet harmonie.
Stones move themselves call'd by Amphion's Lute,
And Thebes build, without man's hands to do't:
Yet fairest Lucia when I heard you play,
I soon confess you have more skill than they:
Your fingers strike a far diviner strain,
And mens Hearts harder than the stones you gain.
Brute Beasts when Orpheus play'd stood still and gaz'd;
When you, stiff-necked men are more amaz'd.
He could unreasonable beasts controule,
But you command a reasonable Soul,
For men more fierce than cruell Tigers, lay
Their necks down, and like captives yok'd obey.
Who then to bondage powerfull'st captives drew?
Orpheus tam'd beasts, a harder task, Men you.
ANOTHER.
When last I heard your nimble fingers playUpon your Lute, nothing so sweet as they
Seem'd; all my soul fled ravish'd to my ear,
That sweetly animating sound to hear.
My ravish'd Heart with play Kept equal time,
Fell down with you, with you did Ela climbe,
Grew sad or lighter, as the tunes you plai'd,
And with your Lute a perfect measure made:
If all so much as I, your Musick Love,
The whole world would at your devotion move,
And at your speaking Lutes surpassing charmes,
Embrace a lasting peace, and fling by Arms.
To CELIA on some verses sent her by another.
Dear Fair if that some riper witIn rapt of some poetick fit
To ease the fancy of his brain
Writ of Love, and Love shall fain,
Shall those lines acceptance have?
Not those indited by thy slave?
Whose troubled brains no muses move,
But the darling God of Love.
If my lines you 'Count a toy
You know Cupid is a boy,
Yet his trifles often finde
Fair acceptance from the kinde;
Such are they whose search doth sift
The givers mind above the guift.
Let others write to shew their wit,
When I; Love shall be Cause of it.
On Love.
Love is a fire, Love is a flame
Which darting came
Th'orow the azure skie;
And just like the rays, in Sol's hottest days peirc'd me from on high.
Which darting came
Th'orow the azure skie;
And just like the rays, in Sol's hottest days peirc'd me from on high.
My heart before so chill, and cold,
'gan to unfold
It self in those fair beams,
But its mighty flame, soon it overcame
Martyr'd 'twixt extreams.
'gan to unfold
It self in those fair beams,
But its mighty flame, soon it overcame
Martyr'd 'twixt extreams.
Lov's masterlesse, and cruell fire
if it grow higher
Will kill with martyrdoms,
As heat forceth heat, to a gentle retreat
Love, Love overcomes.
if it grow higher
Will kill with martyrdoms,
As heat forceth heat, to a gentle retreat
Love, Love overcomes.
Song.
Aske me not why I am so sad, nor why I hereThe Nymps forbear,
Do with my Arms a Crosse walk in this grove?
Within the hollow concave of my troubl'd breast
Which never rests
Lies the true cause, and my tormentor Love.
'Tis jealous fear, causes my care,
And burthens thus my Love-sick Heart,
I fear that she, my deitie
Delights to see my smart;
For still she frowns, and Knitts her brows
And doth abhorr my Company,
Whilst Lycon Courts her, with her sports,
I dare not do't though by.
O cruell fair! why dost thou thus delight to kill
Thy slave who will
Whilst he has life adore thee? and will be
Courted by none for to neglect his duty, though you are his foe
And with tormenting pains would murther me.
And since that you, forbid me sue
Or ask for mercy, I will ne'r
With my complaints, and sad laments
In vain disturb your ear;
No, death will doe as much as Love hath don
VVith's dart he'l peirce me through;
Death will be found, to Cure that wound
VVhich Cœlia would not doe.
DAMON to a foul Maid that courted him.
What mean'st thou Bacca, Can my senses feastUpon the members of a parboyl'd Beast?
What boarish appetite thinkst thou I have
That thou shouldst court me, who'd first wed a grave,
And death hug in my Arms, then such a hag,
Whose hide pouch'd like a shrivl'd pudding-bag,
Reaks like another Ætna; thy sous'd face
And hawkle nose has not so good a grace
As Madam monkies; few Hairs on thy scalpe,
Thy mouth is Tænarus, thy Teeth an alpe,
But that no snow, but soot lyes always there,
In other parts like a deformed Bear
Not yet lick'd into fashion. Think'st thou Man
Not turned Beast, forsake his reason can
To fall int' such a sink: Thon stinking Trull
Thou must like Pasiphae lie with a Bull,
Or couple with a boare thy next of kin;
For never hope you Man can tempt to sin,
For he that do'st it, were I to judge his pain,
Should be (and 'tis enough) to do't again.
To LYDIA being retired privately into the Country.
Now to the secret Groves is Lydia goneStoll'n from us all, meaning to live alone
Among the silent woods, where she may be
From busie servants entertainments free,
And hear the pleasant songsters of the Groves,
With whistling layes resound their growing Loves:
With uncontrouling freedom view the trammells
Of Flora which the fragrant meads inammels,
With pleasure walke and see the crystall brooks,
Catching the sportive fish, with silver hooks.
Conversing with the flowry NapϾ,
Making diversity of flow'rs agree
Bound up together: 'mong the shady trees
Daunce in a Circle, with the Dryades,
Feeding on cleanly, though but homely food,
Esteem'd the only Goddess of the wood.
O how I fear those rural pleasures may
Entice her there to make a tedious stay,
But I with vows will Frosty Hyems move,
To hast the ruines of the leavy grove;
Pray cold mout'h Boreas kiss her tender cheek,
To make her shelter in the town to seek,
VVhere conversation, and warm fires do bring
Though frost without doors lies; within a spring.
Poema Valedictorium Perdilecto intimoque Suo amico transfreturo.
Alas! what fate (or rather providence)
Is this (dear C) unthought of rapt's thee hence?
What makes thee leave this Isle, and seas pass o're
To seek the blessings of a forrain shore?
Cann't ours content thee? yea but thy free hand
Transports the panneous blessings of our land,
And (for exchange bring's back what ours hath none
Of,) by exoticks to inrich our own.
Since then it is for publique good, and thine,
That thou leav'st us, it must needs be for mine.
I'le not complain, since truly one friend shou'd
Suffer disasters for another's good,
And this is one (and that of no mean weight)
That thee, and I, (dear C--- must separate.)
Vota Auspicata.
Is this (dear C) unthought of rapt's thee hence?
What makes thee leave this Isle, and seas pass o're
To seek the blessings of a forrain shore?
Cann't ours content thee? yea but thy free hand
Transports the panneous blessings of our land,
And (for exchange bring's back what ours hath none
Of,) by exoticks to inrich our own.
Since then it is for publique good, and thine,
That thou leav'st us, it must needs be for mine.
I'le not complain, since truly one friend shou'd
Suffer disasters for another's good,
And this is one (and that of no mean weight)
That thee, and I, (dear C--- must separate.)
Farewell! farewell! may fruitefull Neptune please
To sound retreat unto the surging seas,
By Triton's voyce! may his resounding shell,
The threatning rage of all the billows quell.
May great Oceanus, and Tridentifer
(Lest in th' envious liquid pathes you erre)
Be your conductors; Let the Sea-Gods place,
Themselves about your ship for greater grace.
May Amphetrite and the Neriedes
With all the Gods, and graces of the seas,
Assembling sing Io-pæans to thy Honour,
And may the sea for joy thou rid'st upon her
Express't with gentle leapings! May the twinns
Be never seen apart! The God of winds
Great Æolus, may he reflateing gales
Enchaine within th' Hyperborean vales!
To drive you forward to your wish'd-for land!
May glorious Titan pleasant make the dayes,
And gild the Sea, with his projected rayes!
Serener nights attend you! may the bright
Phœbe, at full, give you her borrow'd light!
May Mercurie th' Negotiators God
Attend you too, with his Cyllenian rod,
And cause your gains ariseing from the fleece
Of English Sheep, Surmount that brought to Greece
By Jason's hand! May these on you therefore
Attend and bring you safe to this blest shore.
Vero Panomphæo.
Thou thou true Neptune who the seas command'st,
Without a Trident still the billows can'st,
And with one single word make all obay
Whether in Heav'n, in Earth, Hell, Land, or Sea!
Take thou my C---under thy safe protection,
Guide him and favour 'im, with thy sure direction,
And he'le not fear the threat'ning of the waves
Anchoring his hope upon a God that saves.
Be thou propitious to my prayers, and then
I shall be sure to see him once agen.
Coronis.
Fare well, dear C--- I wish you well, adiew!
My tears stop words, once more farewell to you.
My tears stop words, once more farewell to you.
Sospitet Te Deus: Opt. max.
Epigram.
Stay Triton, hold your breath, and o're the mainConduct my C--- reduce him safe again
To Albion's shore: then found your shell, brave boy,
And make the waves leap to the skies for joy.
THE DEPART.
Adieu sweet Chloris, for the Fates denyMe longer life and longer liberty.
I'ave lost the one in gazing on that face,
Which justly may ot'h Paphian Queen take place
To thee my liberty's refign'd the grave
Tomb shall bespeak me Chloris constant slave.
How can I longer think to live when I
Ravish'd from the clear Sun-shine of thine eye
Feel chilling colds; and winter frosts begirt
Continually with fatal blasts my heart?
No 'tis those beams, which thy bright eyes display
That must dispell, and chace these snows away,
That killing absence brings: nought butthy breath
May now redeem me from the dart of Death.
But there's no hopes, no other hopes but I
Banish't your presence, must resolve to dye:
Cloris adeiu! for ever now adeiu,
For dye I must be'ng forc'd to part with you.
TYSTIRUS complaining.
Break sadded heart, burst thou with griefs complaint
Let thy laments
The hardest marble unto tears provoke:
Make flints to weep
Increase the deep
With drops expressed from that cruell stroke.
Let thy laments
The hardest marble unto tears provoke:
Make flints to weep
Increase the deep
With drops expressed from that cruell stroke.
Wounded I lye, and suffer from that hand
That gave the wound
Unto my bleeding Soul. And from those eyes.
Light'nings proced
Which strike me dead
Nor w'thout she raise me can I ever rise.
That gave the wound
Unto my bleeding Soul. And from those eyes.
Light'nings proced
Which strike me dead
Nor w'thout she raise me can I ever rise.
Torment of cruell silence breeds this woe
I undergoe;
My tongue is fetter'd, and I dare not speak
Although my heart
Feels deadly smart
And swell'd with sorrow at the last must break.
I undergoe;
My tongue is fetter'd, and I dare not speak
Although my heart
Feels deadly smart
And swell'd with sorrow at the last must break.
But here's a joy which feeds my sadded mind
None hath divin'd
The cause of my sadnesse and distress,
First shall my Love
My murther prove
Before, to wrong her, I my Love confess.
None hath divin'd
The cause of my sadnesse and distress,
First shall my Love
My murther prove
Before, to wrong her, I my Love confess.
Damon on Amarillis dancing in a Ring
See my fortune; See my fortuneHow she flyes me
And denys me
Wo alas! wo alas too soon
Still I follow! still I follow!
But she flyes me
And denys me
And cannot be wonn.
Cruel sport; In this sort
With woes to fill me
Which will kill me
Ah! from this pain release me.
For whilst she flys, my eyes
They discover
I'm a lover
And that it is her self must ease me.
Round we go, round we goe,
But she flys me
And denys me
Stil I follow wrapt in woe.
She moves swiftly, and yet sweetly
Don't forsake me
I'le o're take thee
If thou wilt pity bestow.
Cruel sport, in this sort!
To increase my fires
And desires
And to exhibit my despaire:
She Shifts her place, apace
I after move
Be'ing urg'd by Love
But in vain still my endeavours are.
Acrostick.
Fear-killing Faith, Bold-zeal, declares thy name,
Art pick't it out but nature lai'd the frame.
If ever name and nature did agree,
'Tis thine which are in perfect Harmonie:
Heav'n-blessed Faith, which shakes th' Æthereal towers
Art pick't it out but nature lai'd the frame.
If ever name and nature did agree,
'Tis thine which are in perfect Harmonie:
Heav'n-blessed Faith, which shakes th' Æthereal towers
Cold-burning zeal 'gainst Heav'n-opposeing powers
Offer themselves to view: Thy virgin breast
Loves Heav'n alone, doth sordid Loves detest.
Death cannot shake thy Faith, nor ever may
Offer themselves to view: Thy virgin breast
Loves Heav'n alone, doth sordid Loves detest.
Death cannot shake thy Faith, nor ever may
Zeal like to thine, a purer breast display.
Eternal flames of Heav'n-refined zeal
And soreing Faith, thou in thy breast do'st feel,
Live ever happy! Faith and zeal with thee
E're stay, t' effect this thy name's Prophesie.
Eternal flames of Heav'n-refined zeal
And soreing Faith, thou in thy breast do'st feel,
Live ever happy! Faith and zeal with thee
E're stay, t' effect this thy name's Prophesie.
Acrostick.
Age bles't I hope thou art: May many yearsRun their swift courses, and the rouling spheres
Tire in their motions; May the circl'ing Sun
About this round globe th'row the zodiack run
Giving a hund'red springs and Autumns e're
Earth or the Silent grave entomb thee there.
Bles't be thou here with Age: with vertues more,
Let graces, with thy years encrease; thy store
E're multiply: So as thou hast begun
Shine thou in vertue till thy race be run:
Death fear to touch this blooming blossom; Now
In Aprill stay untill December bow
Her head with age and mak't the earth to kiss;
Ope then thy fatal arms: bear her to bliss.
Pluck her from hence, 'fore Age doth call thee to her,
E're curs'd be, for thou pulls the worlds cheif flower.
The Recovery.
Hail gentle virgin! now my joys renew
Their plumes, for they were Sick as well as you,
And had you dy'd they had been buried too.
Their plumes, for they were Sick as well as you,
And had you dy'd they had been buried too.
How oft betwixt my hope, and fear I dy'd;
Each symptom that my watchfull eyes espied,
My heart with thousand Torments crucify'd.
Each symptom that my watchfull eyes espied,
My heart with thousand Torments crucify'd.
When scarlet seas did double dye thy face,
Mine pal'd to see how strong thy feaver was,
How great a Tyrant to usurp that place.
Mine pal'd to see how strong thy feaver was,
How great a Tyrant to usurp that place.
When thou grewst pale I even sunk for fear
Lest Death's cold ashes had been strowed there,
Or that, that Tyrant came to dominere.
Lest Death's cold ashes had been strowed there,
Or that, that Tyrant came to dominere.
When thou did'st sound, my heart was made a prize,
To pallid fear, nor could it ever rise,
Till hope to raise it sprouted from thine eyes.
To pallid fear, nor could it ever rise,
Till hope to raise it sprouted from thine eyes.
My heart yet trembles, now I think upon't,
The thoughts oft with pale sadness paint my front:
Thou liv'st: such mercies e're forget I wo'nt.
The thoughts oft with pale sadness paint my front:
Thou liv'st: such mercies e're forget I wo'nt.
My Muse did languish by a Sympathy,
As if her life depended had on thee,
It seems thine was her numbers Treasurie.
As if her life depended had on thee,
It seems thine was her numbers Treasurie.
Distress'd she sat in Mourning Liveries,
Whilst the clear Fountaines of her crystal eyes,
Wept in soft Tears most dolefull Elegies.
Whilst the clear Fountaines of her crystal eyes,
Wept in soft Tears most dolefull Elegies.
As thy cheeks Hyacinths o'recome their snows,
As vanquish'd are their Lillies, by the Rose,
So on my muse new heat and vigor grows.
As vanquish'd are their Lillies, by the Rose,
So on my muse new heat and vigor grows.
This Day my thought thy starry orbs were prest
With wonted lustre: and new beauties drest
Thy Face: which gave flames to my Muses breast.
With wonted lustre: and new beauties drest
Thy Face: which gave flames to my Muses breast.
Inspired thus she now begins to sing,
New ardors now her spritely Numbers wing,
And as thy health doth, so her raptures spring.
New ardors now her spritely Numbers wing,
And as thy health doth, so her raptures spring.
Both consecrated are my Muse, and I,
To sing the bliss of thy recovery,
And chaunt Iö Pæans untill we dye.
To sing the bliss of thy recovery,
And chaunt Iö Pæans untill we dye.
May Heav'n as he has rais'd thee from the Dead,
(Whose Name be blest!) his mighty bucklar spread,
From Death's fell arrows to defend thy Head.
(Whose Name be blest!) his mighty bucklar spread,
From Death's fell arrows to defend thy Head.
Daine but to cherish (with a gentle glance
Of Favour shot from thy bright countenance)
These lines, and it my Numbers will advance.
Of Favour shot from thy bright countenance)
These lines, and it my Numbers will advance.
Such mercies cannot but my spirits raise,
In highest Notes to chaunt my sprightly lays,
And for thy Health to Heav'n sing songs of prayse.
In highest Notes to chaunt my sprightly lays,
And for thy Health to Heav'n sing songs of prayse.
Innocentia & Politia. Veritas & Panurgia.
When that Astrea took her flight from hence,To find in Heav'n a better residence,
Dame Innocentia wanting her protection
Was scorn'd of all: And Pollicy's infection
Spreading th'row Cities, Courts, and such great places
Expos'd that Dame to thousands of disgraces.
Sly Subtlety the Merchant entertains,
Deceit the Trades-man, to encrease his gains,
The Great man Honor; that vain puf'd-up Pride,
With covetousnesse of every one; beside
Protean Policy, whose great resort,
Is in the City, and the Prince's Court,
Wherein Deceit so often doth frequent,
That Dame's inseparable accident:
But Innocence, of all men was discarded,
Her nackednesse laugh'd at and disregarded.
At last a Country-man, whose smoother brow
Ne'r entertain'd Deceit; nor's mouth knew how
With flatt'ring words to speak; with Court intent
To utter that thing which his Heart ne'r meant,
But being taught of Truth his words to spell,
His Heart, and Tongue rann ever parallel:
He Spies this naked Dame's distresse with ruth,
Invites her with him to go dwell with Truth:
She soon consenting, thankes him for his pity
And bids adiew both to the Court and City.
Thence swifter than the Eastern-wind she runs,
Far from the City, and th' infectious Court
She finds where Truth is wonted to resort:
Met, they as Sisters joyn, delighting so
That never since they would assunder goe,
Their cottage low (free from all Courtly state)
Strong-built on holy ground is Scituate:
Two moats surrounding mak't an Amnick Isle,
The better to keep forth Deceit and Guile,
A strong-built Wall doth it defend, whose Gate,
Like that of heav'n is made an gust and strait,
That every one who is admitted there
Mayn't enter if Deceitfull cloaths they were;
For Truth gives entrance unto none, but those
Who'r naked like her self; or else whose cloathes
Prove tegments for to hide Truths parts divine,
From the perverting Eyes of muzling Swine.
Within the closure of Truth's cottage wall
No high Ambition that aspires (a fall)
No twy-fac'd Guile, no Discord, and no Pride,
Are by these Dames permitted to reside:
But Love and Meeknesse, and such Heav'nly Graces
Cohabit still in those serener places.
The Shadowie Groves with a perpetual spring,
Sweet Philomel makeing the woods to ring,
With other birds peirch'd on the tender sprays,
Whose notes from warbling Throats salute the Days
Approach; whose trebles to the murm'ring water
According, make sweet Musick to their Maker,
Maketh as if the Earth in Heav'n were plac'd
Or Heav'n descended Earth with's Joys had grac'd,
Such is the state, (and far more full of bliss)
Where truth conjoyn'd to Innocency is.
Of rurall joyes, and of Cælestial Pleasures,
Useing to travel all the Country round,
'Till the strange ecchoes of the Trumpets sound,
'Till Mars with blood bedy'd, and horror fell,
Affrighted them back to their closer cell:
Deceit, and Guile, and Policy then flew,
VVith speedy feet about the Country too
VVhere they increased so their Progenie,
That never Since the country could be free,
So that pure Truth, and Innocentia fair,
Unto some secret place, confined are.
But now when Hyem's frosty snow-beard swelld
VVith chilling cold; and neveous mantles held
The World enwrapt; and Mountain tops did show
Their lofty Heads encircl'd round with snow,
Dame Innocentia cloathed all in White,
Her usual Badg, Steals from her secret site;
Leaving the Countrey to the Court she goes,
To view the Quarters of her bitter foes.
B'ing thither come, the first she met was Guile,
VVhose clothing made that spotlesse Dame to smile,
For like to her in every thing she seem'd,
So that most men her Innocentia deem'd:
Look what she wore Guile ever wore the same,
And counterfeited still that purer dame.
In pure White Garments was she dec't, the snow
Could not than she a colour purer show:
But she whose eyes peirc'd her base covering,
Saw her all bloached with foul spots within,
And th'row her plaster'd White, and painted face
Saw that with all men she usurp'd her place.
The next she met with was Dame Policie,
VVho with a thousand shapes deludes the eye,
To ev'ry colour would Camelionize,
Her shapes so divers and her forms so many
That none could truly say that she had any.
Her hand-maid Guile who still attends upon her
Bowing her Head full low unto her Honor
Held up her train, when that she neer was come
She thus salutes her, Dame we have no roome
To lodge you here, our bedds are all implete,
Nor may this court, for you become a seat,
For your carbasious tegment, which doth vie
For whitenesse with the snow, cannot come nigh
Our sullied garments, but it shews our stains
And Truths perspective shews to all our blains,
Our albeous Garments seem as white as thine,
Our Laws seem holy, our decrees divine,
If thou art absent; but if thou art by
Our white shews black, our seeming truth's a lye,
Our Laws deceitfull, and it doth appear,
Our Kingdom falls if thou remainest here.
My neece Ambition cannot be displac'd,
Her Sister flatt'ry 'ld think her self disgrac'd,
Should I dislodge them for your sake, they'd snuff,
And pride would think you were not fine enough:
But adulation who her words can change
T' as various shapes as there are humours strange
Shall entertain you, and with Speeches fair
Shall fill you full, if you'l be fill'd with air.
VVe two are inconsonant; we cann't agree,
I you oppose, you'r opposite to me,
And 'tis as hard for us to joyn (it clear is)
As pale fac'd Famine to conjoyn with Ceres,
I am not wont apertly thus to speak,
However now my mind I truly break
That you must hence, and leave this place for me.
Contraries cann't conjoyn, we here no room
Have, therefore pray depart from whence you come.
Dame Innocentia soon perceiv'd, the place
Nothing afforded to her but disgrace,
And scorn, therefore lest thence she should be thrust
And her white garments spoyled with the dust,
And stains of sin, the court unto her foes
She leaves with speed (while Guile dirt at her throws)
And to truths cottage, where she was before
Returns; and vows to see the Court no more.
Aula procul Innocentiâ.
An Elegy on the matchless Murther of Charls the First of Happy and Blessed Memory.
Since Brittains great Apollo left the land,Laurells are blasted, and dejected stand;
Poets are dumb-struck, and amaz'd to see
So strange, unutterable Prodigie,
Charles forc'd to swim in his own sacred Gore
From this accurs'd, to an immortal Shore,
So that none dares, all struck with silent dread,
To say, Much lesse to sing that Charles is dead.
For many months my Soul and Blood was froze,
Till Anger thaw'd this Ice, and Zeal arose
Through all my Veins, which gave me Liberry
To weep out first, then write an Elegy.
Lame, and unequal as the woful times
Painted with Sighs, and Tears, must run my rithmes,
For who can, struck with so much grief, erect
A Verse, but in a faultring Dialect?
He must forget the rugged times the while,
That can indite ought in a pollisht stile.
Who will not blush, and fire his Face with Shame,
That thinks by Verse t' immortalize that Name,
Which charactrized in our Rithmes, will give
Life to our Lines, and make our Fumes to live,
Whilst Charles shall flourish in mans memory,
Which shall till times supp'd up b' Eternity
Bee? Royal Phœbus gains no ray of Light
By mortals praises; he 'tis gives them Sight,
So Brittains Son, shall never live by verse,
But Men and Rithmes, whilst they his Name reherse
Shall flourish; for the Theme these shall be read,
And live soul'd by him, tho' himself be dead.
Dead! ah more! murthered, and martyr'd too,
By cursed hands (who once their deed shall rue)
To th' block of Death the Head of Church and Law;
Both fell with thee great Monarch, when that Fate
Made thee a Martyr of the Church and State.
The Earth and all her mighty Monarchs stand
Amaz'd, and drooping dare not now command,
Benumm'd their Fingers cann't the Scepter sway,
Kings cannot rule, nor people well obay,
Since by thy Death the Soul of Monarchie
Has suffer'd, and the Head of Majestie
Chopp'd off; no King now thinks himself secure
Since Laws (the Walls where Princes did immure
Themselves from vulgar rage) are wrested so
That murthers issue whence Justice us'd to flow.
Asham'd and blushing Princes stand, to see
Themselves, and regal acts outdone by thee,
To see the Glory of thy setting Sun
Damp all the lustre of their splendid Noon.
Heav'n, and the Lamp of day, Nights Tapors tell
England, that they an Act to parrallel
Its bloody deed, ne'r yet beheld; thy Stage
O raging Isles! the wonder of this Age,
And thou shalt blush dy'd with a Tyrian Stain,
(Unless thou wash it quickly off again
By some notorious Act, as great as good,
And take away the stains of blood, with blood)
And be the scorn of Nations, whilst the Sun
Shall in the twelve roads of the Zodiack Run.
No Pen can reach to words sufficient
To speak thy Death; no Elegy lament
Thy fatal loss can in a strain that's fit,
The more we strive the more fall short of it,
For thou'rt a Theme too great for thoughts, much lesse
Can weaker words speak thee; o'r unhappinesse
And loyal hearts shall make the Ocean swell
VVith sighs; which will at last bring judgement down,
And 'wake th' Almightie's Justice for his own.
Rebells think not 'twas his o're-weight of sin
That press'd him down, alive he still had been,
But for the Nations crimes; we first his life
Took from him by our sins, then with the knife.
God for a Notion's sins oft dealeth so,
Takes off the Righteous, lets the wicked go,
In mercy to the first, to set them free
From following plagues, and suddain jeopardie.
So our yet bleeding Monarch was a gem
Too good for us, and we too bad for him.
Although the murtherers grant no monument
Crown'd Heroe! Fame his hasty missives sent
To all Earth's Monarchs! who allready have,
Counting the VVorld two little for thy grave,
Rear'd up a pyramis of high renown,
VVhich shall out-last the longest Monarchs crown,
VVhere long-live'd Fame upon its summit sings
The fatal trag'die of the best of Kings:
In vaulting thee so close, think let them not
That e're their Regicede shall be forgot,
For though thou hidden under ground dost lye,
Their Names above ground rot, and ne'r shall dye.
God turns Hells spiteful Arrows on his head,
The world Salvation gain'd, Christ Crucified,
And murther'd Charles the Name of Martyr gains:
Tho' Life and three Crowns lost: more now remains
For him a Life immortal, and a Crown,
Of Shining Glory, and of high Renown.
Which spight of Rebels Acts, though he be Dead,
Shall now for ever Crown His Royal Head.
THE END.
| Poems upon Several Occasions | |