University of Virginia Library

SOLARJUM.

Dedicated. To the absolute and open enemies of Jgnorance and Darknesse, and the true Louers and Followers of Light and Knowledge, Sr. Iohn Crosts and his happy LADY.

The Clock that chim'de your praise, went right for still
The Diall rulde his tongue the Sunne his Will.
And as these led him right, you follow may,
To heauenly glory, through the Milk-white-way.
In some part of the World, I know not where,
But sure Sr Thomas Mardeuile was there.
Betwixt a Clocke and a Sunne-dyall fell
A difference which I with sorrow tell.
With sorrow, for this error calls to minde
Th'vncertainty, which we in Story finde;
Where computations crosse, and make vs doubt
Of what we all seeke, cannot one finde out.
How to agree, and reconcile th'obscure,
The fabulous, and certaine Age of our.
The Age obscure; is that before the Floud:
The Fabulous, on fained Wonders stood
The race of gods, on golden Legends told,
Where for sad truths, mad fictions were enrold.
This latter Age more plaine and cleere, we call
The certaine Age, or th' Age Historicall.
Yet houres, and dayes, and yeeres haue sure been lost
In some of these, which our accounts haue crost.
And so they easily might, when from the Sunne
To lying Clocks for our accounts we runne.
This tale makes all apparant, or at least,
Makes probable, what some haue thought a ieast.
Within a Churchyard once a Dyall stood
Vpon a square hewne Marble, which the Flood
In vaine with enuious waues had often sought
To spoile, when it the whole world vnder brought.
But Seth's wise sonnes had fastned it so sure,
It could all stormes, and stresse of times endure.
And thereon they had caru'd the Art, and lore
They learned of their Grandsire long before.
Vpon a Church or steeples side neere hand
A goodly Clocke of curious worke did stand;
Which ouer paysde with lead or out of frame,
Did time miscall, and euery houre misname.
The Dyall hearing this, aloud gan cry
Kinde neighbour Clocke your glib tongue tells a lye.
Reforme your error, for my Gnomon saith
You gad too fast, and misse an houres faith.
Foole (quoth the Clocke) reforme thy selfe by me,
The fault may rather in thy Gnomon be.
Had'st thou tould euer truth, to what end then
Was I plac'de here, by th'art of cunning Men?
The weather-Cocke vpon the steeple standing
And with his sharpe eye all about commanding,
Heard their contention, wil'd them to appeale
To him the Chiefe of all that Common-weale.
Told them that he was set to Ouersee
And to appease, to guide and to agree
All diff'rence in that place; and whatso'ere
He setteth downe from Iustice cannot erre.
For from the winde he information takes
Which searcheth through the world, & swiftly makes
A true suruay of euery proofe and cause,
And doth of Reason know the ground, and lawes.
He bids them boldly speake, and bring their pleas,
And hee'le define th'infallible truth with ease.
The Dial then beginnes. The globe-like world
From Center to Circumf'rence being whorl'd
In neuer-resting motion, maketh time
In sundry reuolutions fall and clime.
This Time the measure of all mutable things
Comes with lead-heeles, flies hence with fiery wings;
Sleepes with two eyes, hath two eyes euer waking,
Twixt minuts, hours, daies, nights, distinction making
And though the diff'rence and degrees of change,
In seuerall yeares, be wonderfull and strange;
Some by the Moone, some reckoning by the Sunne,
And some the great yeare, whē th'heauens hauing run
Their compleat course, doe to that point arriue
Whence the first mouer, them did motion giue;
Yet the most generall certaine count of all
Is measur'd by the Sunne, whose rise and fall
Makes day, and night, and noone, and midnight too,
Spring, Summer, Winter, Autumne, and the two
Solsticiums, Equinoctials, and the houres
Now naked, and then deck't in gaudy flowers.
This Adam to his Grandsons hauing told,
With other Arts, and wonders manifold,
How all the world both fire and flood should try;
They plac'd me here, to tell posterity
Such hidden mysteries; And to direct
The wiser Soules deep-diuing intellect.
About me they haue grau'd seauen liberall Arts,
The Sciences, with their diuiner parts,
A circle and a Gnomon set aboue
With Characters; which as the Sunne doth moue
In his ascent, or low declension, tells
The certaine houre, degree, and all things else.
But for my speech was slow, and cause the Sunne
Did often vnder clouds for pleasure runne,
Succeeding ages did this Clocke out finde
T'attend on me, and to declare my minde,
From me intelligence and rules ro gather
To measure night, close stormes, and cloudy weather:
And in the Morne, finding his reckoning wrong,
By my straight rule, to tune and set his song.
But this forgetfull Clocke at randome strikes,
Not as I bid, but fondly what it likes:
Robs short-liu'de Man of his most precious time,
And orderlesse, doth others orders chime.
It will not follow me, but wanting wit,
VVould haue the Sunne and Me to waite on it.
This matter so apparant, though I might
Wild Weather-Cocke, except against your right
To iudge, and thinke you partiall at the least,
Since you o're-cloude me when the Sun comes West,
And will take part with it, that's in the name,
In nature, and in sight, almost the same
With you; yet know I'le not refuse
Thy censure, but high place with honour vse.
The weather-Cocke thrice turn'd himselfe about,
As taking care to minde the matter out;
And thrice return'd, as if he were as free
From preiudice, as from integritie.
Then thrice hee claps his wings (which courage showes)
And thrice aloude his senslesse sentence crowes.
To giue a reason, wherefore, how, and what,
When, where, by whom, or fondly this or that,
Might argue reference to higher power;
But what is he whose place doth equall our?
We are the rule of reason, truths cleare law.
Heare then with reuerence, and obey with awe.
Without more question, argument, or triall,
The iudgement I pronounce against the Dial.
The Dial shall be guided by the Clock.
This is the sentence of the weather-Cock.
Which when the Clock had heard (puft vp with pride)
He ginnes the wronged Dial to deride;
And sits his tongue at large, too much, too soone;
Twelu times he fetch'd his breath, & laugh'd out none.
The Dial then with indignation moued
By this inuectiue speech their fault reproued.
Poore silly Clock (quoth he) reioyce thy fill,
Time will reforme thy ignorant zeale with skill,
Stay thy distempered course, which hurried now,
By mad-braind humor, goes it knowes not how.
Time that's my pupill, shall thy Tutor be,
And teach a diff'rence twixt thy selfe and me;
Then thou wilt know thy error, and recant
That euer thou wert proud of so much want.
But as for thee (thou iudge corrupt and base,
Who bindst all knowledge Prentise to thy place)
Know this, th'all-seeing Sunne thy folly knowes,
And to each vulgar eye thy shaddow showes,
That they may plainly see how poore thou art
Thy head deform'd, defectiue euery part.
And that those high prerogatiues of state
You challenge proper to your selfe, are late
Vpstart intrusions, vsurpations new;
Forg'd by the force or flattery of some few.
The promise which you boast, to haue the winde
Blow where you list, and alter when you minde,
Is false, and foolish; but 'twas promisde still
To blow and guide you right, if that you will.
And so it doth, so it doth others too,
If they consent, not whether they will or no.
For when they would the point and quarter know
Where it doth breath, on me they looke; I show
The truth to them and thee, if you looke right,
If not, you are misled by your owne sight.
But how can'st thou others from error keepe
When as thy selfe foulded in error deepe,
Shun'st reformation, and wilt neither minde,
My graue directions, nor the powerfull wind?
I can remember, long before thou Wert
When wise Alcedo stood where as thou art.
He calm'd all stormes, and pacified the wind
To patient sufferance, bent his humble minde.
He to the fisher, and the Seaman gaue
Directions, how their storme-tost barke to saue.
When by the Lee-shore, when to lanch the Maine,
And when to lie at Hull, when to remaine
In harbour Anchor-fast, and when to saile
With a full winde, and when againe to vaile:
How, where and when, to cast their nets, and lay
Their hidden hookes, where all the skull do play.
Some of each kinde, yet at each corner stand,
Who still loue truth; in spite of thy command:
Their heads look south, because the wind blows there,
Thy taile stands south, thy head the winde doth feare.
Ill might he fare that in Alcedos place,
Set thee, who springest from a bloudy race.
His error, and thy pedigree behold
As it in ancient story is inrould.
A trayt'rous Slaue, his Master hauing slaine
Did sole Commander of the world remaine.
But whilst he slept; a chickin of that Cocke
Which Cephas check't when he denyde the rocke,
And forc't him to repent, to sigh, and weep,
Did with his voyce the murtherer wake from sleep,
And would not suffer him to rest in sin,
But he would rouse his conscience still within.
This Murtherer, a Cocke of kinde did get,
And him to kill this kinder Cocke did set,
Who soone perform'd the taske he tooke in hand:
For Chauntecleer would suffer, not withstand.
He watchfull was and tended his vocation,
To stirre vp others to their occupation:
He lou'd the pearle more then the barley corne;
To crow, and not to quarrell he was borne.
So he was slaine, and slaine by one of those
From whence thy proud succession strangely rose
Who hight Alectrion, and while-ere had bin
The Pandor vnto Mars and Venus sin,
And then (being Captaine of great Mars his guard),
Stood Sentinel, and kept both watch and ward,
For feare that Phœbus all discouering eye,
Should them vnwares at their stolne pleasure spie.
But ouert'ane with sleep, he did not wake
Till Vulcans net did both the lechers take;
For which the angry God (inrag'd and mad)
His sleeping souldier, all in feathers clad,
His sword turn'd spurres, himselfe a Cocke of kinde,
His armes and body changde, but not his minde;
That's bloody still, and too far prone to fight
Without respect of persons, cause, or right.
Else would he ne're haue been so mad to kill,
A harmeles Cocke, who had no thought of ill.
But him he falsely slew, and hauing slaine
Did for this murther, of a murtherer gaine
Too great preferment, to be set vp heere
In triumph t'ouersee all, farre and neere;
To be ador'de with vniuersall praise
And triple crownd with Oliue, Oake, and Bayes.
Him thou succeed'st both in thy minde and place,
An armed Champion, of that yron race,
A Souldier, none of his whose badge thou bear'st;
But rather one of his whose crowne thou wear'st;
Thy narrow heeles are sharpe, thy tongue is short:
To prey, and not to prayer fit t'exhort.
Thou wilt not crow to rouse the world from sleep,
But with thy silent charmes, it drunken keepe.
When thou most seruant-like thy head dost beare
Downe to the ground, then Cockes their crownes may feare.
Thou seek'st a fained quarrell then to pick,
And wilt with both wings mount, with both heeles strick,
At euery feather come, stab either spur
Vp to the hilts; and furiously bestur
Thy ready parts, t'attaine thy bloody end,
And all the world to thy owne scope to bend.
Thou trumpet'st warres and curses ouer all,
And ouer-crowes, but wilt not crow to call
Thy selfe and others of thy ranke, and place,
From looking on the Earth, to view the face
Of the all-searching Sunne, and by his light
To measure truly what is wrong and right.
The Cock is kil'd that Peter caus'de to weepe,
The Petrean Pastor now may safely sleep.
Sleepe though he hath deni'd his master too;
For none t'admonish him hath ought to doo.
Crauen awake, behold how I deride
Thy mutabilitie, thy sloth, thy pride,
Thou stand'st where he stood who claim'd all the world,
And shalt with him from that steep height be hurld.
About thy head each prating bird that perks,
Dare take the name and place of learned Clerks,
And vnto royall Eagles offer lawes,
VVhen each eye sees, they are but iangling dawes.
And though all Lyons in the desart feare,
And crouch, when they thy crowing voice do heare:
Our Lyon scornes thee, when he heares thee crow;
And with his roaring voice the world doth show,
How poore thou art, how cowardly, how weake,
Who shak'st & trēblest when thou hear'st him speak.
And yet how proud art thou, t'vsurpe a place
Of iudgement ouer me, in this darke case,
And to prefer the Clock for want of wit,
VVhen I should be the iudge of thee and it?
The Sexton comes, hee'le mend all this anone.
VVith that the angry Clocke in rage strooke one.
The Sexton came indeed, and one did tell,
Look't on the Diall, saw all was not well.
For that said twelue, the Clock said one and past.
He tooke the weights off, which caus'd too much hast,
Suruaide the wheeles, for there the fault might be,
And found some cog supply the place of three.
Some wheeles were taken off, and borne to Court,
To trundle vp and downe, and there make sport.
And some with dust, and rust, were duld and foild,
And some stood vselesse, so the Clocke was spoild.
Which to reforme, he mends the wheels forthwith
Files, oyles, and beats them throughly on a stith:
Makes weights and wyere fit, then by the Sunne
Sets the new course, which it doth truly runne.
Then going vp the steeples top he spies
The weather-cocke how palpably it lies.
For at each Corner the Kings-fishers stood,
Full South; and that the Dial prooued good.
But the fond Weather-cocke (being weather-wise)
From the Calme blast turn'd his scornefull eyes.
The Sexton tooke him downe, and straight did see
An easie way how he might mended be,
His head was too too great, with 3. combes crownde
Which euer when the wind blew turn'd him round.
His taile was too too weake, when euery feather
Was bent with storms, and broken with the weather
The Sexton cut his crownes, and gaue more saile
With them and with the spurs vnto his tayle
So humbled now in habite, looke and minde,
He waites with due obedience on the winde:
Knowes his high place was not to rule, but serue,
And means no more from this strict course to swerue.
This tale no mortall needs, it is not darke,
But points a worke fit for our learned Clarke
Who by the Dyal may reforme the Clocke,
And by kings fishers turne the Weather-cocke.
We haue the winde to helpe vs and the Sunne,
And works are halfe accomplisht when begun.
Then who'le begin? who is on our side, who?
Where words, winde, writings faile, resolue to Doe.