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The Blessed Birth-day

celebrated in some religious meditations on the Angels Anthem. Lvc. 2. 14. Also holy transportations, in contemplating some of the most obserueable adiuncts about our Saviours Nativity. Extracted for the most part out of the Sacred Scriptures, Ancient Fathers, Christian Poets. And some moderne Approved Authors. By Charles Fitz-Geffry. The second Edition with Additions

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To the Devote Author, on his severall workes.

Sir : I not praise your wit, for that all know
Praises it selfe; each line that thence doth flow
Like to some pearle, or ray, or streame, well showes
The mine, sun, fountaine, whence it first arose.
But that which ravishes iust praise from me,
Is the choice method of your Poetry,
And that you could with such due equipage,
Sute severall poems to your severall age,
So as in this, your exemplary art
Acts both the Poets and the Preachers part.
Your younger wit as taking a delight
In bold atchieuements, ventred to recite
The deeds of valiant Drake, who by your skill
And strong description goes that voyage still
Which once he did: and with full blasts of fame
Yet sailes securely round the earth againe.
Then as experience taught you to survay
The worlds conditions, your free muse would play
In various Epigrams: where both for tongue,
Conceit, and choice of verse, you seeme to runne,
With foremost Martial, and so thriue therein,
That you come nearest to the goale next him.


But hauing now retraited from the foame
Of surging youth, and safe at length come home,
To quiet age, diviner thoughts inspire
Your pregnant fancy, and with holier fire
Enflame you to the sweet discovery,
Of heavenly mysteries, where the most high
Must exercise your soaring braine to tell,
The Natals of our Saviour, which so well
You haue displaid with each nice circumstance
Of time, and place, and persons, to advance
Such lofty wonders that you make to vs,
Those miracles seeme more miraculous.
This is your praise, but will you heare me noise,
The shame of others, that grow old in toies?
That thinke their wilde invention too much pent
In sacred taskes, and not their element
To be in Heavenly things: as if such stuffe
Were not conceited, rich, or fine enough
For their loose fancies, or could not yeeld straines,
Of matter high enough to fill their veines
With Raptures. But O! how is this made vaine
By noble Bartas, whose Heroicke braine
Adorn'd Gods works, and like an other light,
Pictur'd the whole creation to our sight?
Nay how is this made ly by those Saint-men,
Those spheares of wit, Tertullian, Nazianzen,
Nissen, Lactantius, and more you know who,
That could be Fathers, and yet Poets too:
And when they could not their rude enemies pierce
With gentle prose, they batter'd them with verse.
But let them passe, and suck the empty shout
Of lewd applauses, which will shortly out


In stench and rottennes, and then commit
Their authors to the judgement of their wit.
But surely; who would dye as they should doe
Good poets, must first learne to be like you.
Hen. Beesely A.M. A. A.