University of Virginia Library

Upon a Paraphrase of Salomon's Song, Done by his Worthy Friend, Dr. Samuel Woodford.

Whilst Thou with Sacred Rage inspir'd dost Sing
The Mystic Song of Songs, can Cold Age bring
An Offering fit? Or, without Fire, devote
True Zeal to Verse? Or can I tell by rote
Thy Praises without measure due? Shall I
Confound Thy Consort then, or Modesty
Prophane in Print? No, let me silent be
A Monumental Foyl to Poetry and Thee.

ODE. To his Honoured Friend Dr. Woodford, On his Excellent Paraphrase of SALOMON'S SONG.

To my dear Old Friend, the Reverend Dr. Samuel Woodford, On his Sacred Rimes.

A PARAPHRASE ON THE Canticles, In English Rhythms.

PERSONÆ.

• SPONSA.
• SPONSUS.
• CHORI tres.
• Primus AMICORUM SPONSI.
• Alter FILIARUM HIEROSOLYMITANARUM.
• Tertius MULIERUMèGENTIBUS.

ΠΡΟ' ΑΣΜΑ.

Cap. I. CANTICUM Canticorum Salomonis. DIVINI AMORIS ECSTASIS Quæ & PROTASIS.

SPONSA. SPONSUS.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.
Worthy my Love, how art thou fair,
Beyond what mortal Women are!
Chast, and inno'cent, as a Dove,
Full of mild, and spotless love,
And from whose Eyes a ray does shine,
Than Doves more bright, and as Thine own Divine.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
Not I, t'is Thou, my LOVE, art fair
Bright as the Sons of Heaven are;
And those perfections Thou giv'st me,
Are what I first receiv'd from Thee,
In whom, as in their true Original they be.
Come then, my HEART, lo, all around,
With Greens our Bed, with Flow'rs I've strew'd the ground!
Come, let us sit down, and beguile,
Unmist the weary Hours a-while;
And when the Night recals us home,
T'our Cedar Palace we will come,
And of each others Love possest,
With jealous boadings unopprest,
On beds of Iv'ry take our chast and welcome rest.

Cap. II. EVOCATIO SPONSÆ.

SPONSUS. SPONSA.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.
I COME—but (lo!) how peaceful sleep
In downy chains does all her Senses keep;
She sleeps, and will do well, compos'd to rest,
Of ease, her self, and him she loves, as wisht, possest.
Mean while, you Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem
In her attendance, than your own fair stemm;
By the Hills, and by the Lawns,
By the Roes, and by the Fawns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I, or you count dear,
All I love, and all you fear;
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My Love from the rest, which now she does take,
Till her self pleases the Signal to make!

SPONSA.

Sponsus.
What voice was that, which struck my ear?
Ah! 'twas my LOVE, 'twas my LOVES Voice,
Which, were I dead, would make me hear,
And fill me with unutterable joys.
'Twas He, who spake, and is he gone?
Ah me! e're yet his Words were done,
So far remov'd hence, and so soon?
But he'll return ------
He comes, he comes, I see him come,
The very Mountains make him room,
And bow their Heads to yield him way;
The Hillocks dart a brighter ray;
Over the Mountain tops he skips,
Light as the Wind, o're th' Hillocks trips:
And now he's there, and now he's here,
Swift as the fleet wing-footed Deer;
And now behind our Wall he stands,
Looks at the Window, and commands
My' attendance, at the Lattice, with his beckning hands.
Nay he speaks too, and I hear him say,
“Rise up, my Love, my Fair one, come away!
“Winter at length is past, and gone;
“Look, how th' expected Spring comes on!
“Apace it comes, on Zephyrs riding,
“And the Rain, that stopt it chiding.
“The Rain is gone too, and gives place,
“And now appears a clearer face
“Of Heaven, and Earth, than did before:
“Enough of Storms, there's now no more.
“Lo! how the Flowers lift up their heads,
“And start out of their drousie beds.
“Wak'd by the Quire of Birds, that sing
“And Carol to the new-come Spring.
“They sing, and dance from bough to bough,
“As if they Winter ne're did know;
“As if they Winter ne're did fear,
“And 'twould be Summer all the Year,
“And every Night, and every Day,
“(Who more rich, or pleas'd, than they)
“Unbidden, Pipe, and unrewarded, play.
“The Fig-Tree too, on every twig,
“Puts out its callow unfletcht Fig.
“Unflesht, unripe, unripe tho' it be,
“Hatc'ht at once by its Mother-Tree;
“Born at one pang, without the throws,
“The' hard teeming Olive undergoes,
“That Gems, and Flowers, and flowring dies,
“E're th' half form'd Embry'o up does rise:
“Or the slow Vine its clusters brings,
“That gentle Plant, made up of Rings,
“Crispt, and curld, and wondrous sweet,
“But modest too, and veild toth' feet.
“Which in their courses, all attend,
“And forth their Odours all do send,
“The Springs to perfume, and thy way,
“Rise up my Love, my Fair One, come away!
Thus, thus but softer 'twas he spake,
With words a very Rock would break,
And e'ven in Stones impression make;
Hark, and you too, O Friends, may hear him speak!

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.
My DOVE, that in the Cliffs dost dwell,
And there to stones thy griefs dost tell,
To stones, which nor Thy plaints can hear,
Nor a part with Thee in them bear,
Not lend one sigh, nor shed one tear,
Come forth of Heaven, and me belov'd,
And be to a better Seat remov'd!
To one less deaf thy prayers direct,
Whom as Thy self, but more they may affect:
Make them, my Love, make them to me,
And let me Her, who makes them see!
Thy Voice, tho hoarse with calling grown,
And almost to Thy self unknown,
To me as sweet, as e're it was,
As Charming seems, and full of Grace;
And thy fair Eyes, with tears besprent,
Look through the liquid Chrystal far more Orient.
“For why to Heav'n no pompous Sacrifice,
“Than Holy Prayer can more accepted rise:
“And the Lambs Bride no richer Garment wears,
“Than simple White, or pondred with her pearly tears.
Come then of Heav'n, and me belov'd,
And be to a better Seat remov'd!
—SHE comes, she comes, I see her come,
The Cliffs, that held her, make her room;
And stoop their Heads, to plain her way,
Our Lawns reflect her brighter ray!
Take us the while, the Foxes take,
Which in our Vineyards Burroughs make!
The little Foxes, which dispoil
Our Vines, into a Gin beguile;
For there's a blessing in our Vine;
The tender Grape begins to shine,
A blessing of its own, her blessing 't has, and mine.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

CAP. III. DOLOR DE ABSENTIA SPONSI. EPITASIS.

SPONSA. CHORUS Amicorum Sponsi.
SPONSA SOLA.

Sponsa.
'Twas Night, a sad and dismal Night,
Without one gleame of chearful Light;
Silence, and horror seiz'd its place,
And rioted ith' empty space;
When wake'd with dread, Lo! all alone
I found my self, my LOVE was gone.
With trembling Hand, to find him out,
I felt, I sought, but found him not.
At last thus to my self I said,
“I'le up, and see whither he' is stray'd:
“Fearless the City compass round,
“Nor give o're till my LOVE is found.
“No labour spare ith' quest, or pains,
“Through the broad Streets, and narrow Lanes,
“But eve'ry Lane, and every Street,
“Measure out with my weary Feet,
“And thus, or find him, or thus prove,
“My truth to His, and to my Love.
I spake, I rose, but in vain sought,
And tir'd my self, yet found him not.
Him I found not, but they found me,
Who the City-Warders be;
And in their Night-walks compass it,
Amaz'd a stricter Watch to meet,
And thus themselves first askt to be,
“Him, whom my Soul loves did you see?
My steps scarce from them could I move,
But I found Him my Soul does love.
I held him fast, nor would let go my hold,
Chast in my Love, and in his Favour bold,
Till to my Mothers House I brought Him,
And all my adventurous search had taught him,
To the glad room, where I was born,
But in my Birth less joyous than in his return.
And now, fair Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem,
In his attendance than your own fair stem;
By the Hills, and by the Launs,
By the Roes, and by the Fauns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I or you count dear,
All he loves, and all I fear:
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My LOVE from the rest, which now he does take,
Till himself pleases the signal to make!

CHORUS Amicorum Sponsi.

Chorus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
Daughters of Jerusalem,
The fairest Sprouts of Sions stem,
Come forth, my Friends, come forth, and see
What mine, and what your Honours be!
You well remember th' happy Day,
(And well remember it, you may)
When first your King receiv'd his Crown,
King Salomon, and 'twas his own,
Not of the Kingdom but of his Love;
And it the fairer Crow'n did prove.
From 'his Mothers Hands the joyful Son,
On 'his Nuptial Day receiv'd the Crown.
But such a Son, and such a Mother,
Vying Glories each with th' other,
And such a Crown, and such a Day,
When in chast Joys dissolv'd they lay,
The happy Bridegroom, and the Bride,
And you, their Friends, on either side,
If once again you'd wish to see,
And greater Joys than those could be,
Come, and my greater SALOMON behold,
More glorious in his Love, than he in all his Gold.

Cap. IV. CATASTASIS. DESIDERIUM.

SPONSUS, SPONSA.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

V. CATASTASIS.

SPONSUS. SPONSA. CHORUS.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

CHORUS Filiarum Hierosolymitanarum.

Chorus.
Fairest of Women, if we find
Thy LOVE, we'll to Thy suit be kind.
Fairest of Women, if we meet
Thy LOVE, we'll be as Thou art, sweet.
(Sweet, and kind, so Love to us be
As we are kind and sweet to Thee!)
Tell him all thou hast charg'd us,
In terms, like Thine, obsequious.
But, if unseasonable it is not,
Nor we be too o're curious thought,
Be pleas'd t' advise us, what above
All other Lovers, is Thy LOVE,
In Air, and rich Endowments large,
That us Thou giv'st so strict a charge?

SPONSA.

Sponsa.

VI. AMBITIO SPONSÆ.

CHORUS Filiarum Hierosolymitanarum. SPONSA, SPONSUS, CHORUS alter Mulierum è Gentibus.

CHORUS. Fil. Hier.

Chorus.
Whither is thy BELOVED gone,
Fairest of Women, whither turn'd aside?
Tell us, if Thou hast his retirements known,
Or deign Thy self to be our Guide!
In every place, we'll with Thee seek Him out,
And find, or else be found of Him we sought.

SPONSA.

Down to his Garden my BELOVED went.
To' his Garden, as I thought, with full intent;
The Beds of Spices, in his Walk to see,
How fresh and verdant in his Livery.
There to divert a while, and feed his Flock,
And new-blown Lillies gather from the Stock.
—But (Lo!) I see him, this way his steps incline.
I my BELOVED's AM, and HE IS MINE.
His, none but his, who 'mongst the Lillies feeds,
And with them to be Crown'd, first for them bleeds,

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

CHORUS Mulierum ê Gentibus.

Chorus.
What fair One's that, who like the Day,
From its dark Prison broke away,
Comes gently on, all crownd with Light,
The Rosie-fingred Morn in white;
And as She still does draw more near,
Still more radiant does appear?
How fair She is, as Mid-night Moon,
Radiant too as Mid-day Sun;
Clear, and bright, but terrible withal,
As a rang'd Phalanx at the Trumpets call.

SPONSA Sola.

Sponsa.
Down to my Garden am I come; and here,
How fresh, how verdant all my Fruits appear!
To see I'm come, how my Nuts clusters grow,
How my Vines shoot, and the Pomgranats blow,
But hold!—What sudden change is it I feel?
What 'tis I know not, how I cannot tell;
But now, methinks, I mount, and now I flie:
Lo! how the Earth, and Clouds beneath me lie;
And now to th' Empyrean I approach,
And starry is my Way, a Cherub is my Coach.

CHORUS Mulierum ê Gentibus.

Chorus.
Whither, O Sulamite, whither so fast,
And why thus soon, to leave us, all this haste?
Return, O Sulamite, return, that we
On equal ground may thy chast Beauties see!
Return, that we a while may on Thee gaze;
Return, or us together with Thee raise.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
Ah! too o're curious, and too over-bold,
What is't you'd in the Sulamite behold?
What is't, when all that you can in her see,
Are but the Lines of a tremendous Majesty.
As when two Armies ready are to joyn,
And with stern Looks, to th' onset give the Sign.

VII. AMORES MUTUI.

SPONSUS SPONSA.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
I my BELOVED's am alone,
And beside me has he none;
None beside me does he love,
Equal none, and none above.
Mine he is and mine alone,
And beside him have I none;
None beside him do I love,
Equal none, and none above.
Come then my LIFE, ah! come away!
Ith' City let's not ever stay;
But look how our Fields do smile,
And in the Villas lodg a while.
There, with the Sun, We'll early rise,
And visiting our Nurseries,
See how the Vines their Branches spread,
And the young Grape shoots forth his head:
And how the Pomgranates do blow.
But then my LOVE less ruddy show.
My Loves there will I to Thee give.
Loves in the Country happie'st live.
The Mandrag's there, that Love excites,
The Mandrag, chief in Loves delights;
Which forward now, begins to 'appear,
And fumes our Gates with it's Rosie Hair.
With many a Fruit, and many a Flower,
Which I will in Thy Bosom pour.
Store of Pleasures, new, and old,
More than can of Tongue be told.
More, if possible, than enough,
And all reserv'd for Thee, my LOVE.

VIII. CATASTROPHE.

SPONSA. CHORUS Gentium. SPONSUS.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
I love, but cannot yet my LOVE injoy,
Ah! Love that Thou should'st have so much alloy!
Still some nice thing to interrupt Our bliss,
Something to fault, which yet we would not miss!
This as I think, I wish Thou wert my BROTHER,
Thou my Soul loves, the Son of my own Mother:
How would I 'embrace Thee then, and kiss thine Eyes,
Where e're I meet Thee, safe from base surmize!
Home would I lead Thee to my Mothers House,
And, by her taught, the happy Moment use;
Talk o're our Loves, fill, fill the Wine,
The spicy blood of th' Pomgranate and Vine.
Satiate with which, Thou should'st thy Left-hand place
Under my Head, whole me with the' right embrace.
'Tis done, and see he sleeps—
Fair Daughters of Jerusalem,
Who are, and to your selves more glorious seem,
In our attendance, than your own bright Stem,
By the Hills, and by the Launs,
By the Roes, and by the Fauns,
By the Fields, and by the Woods,
By the Springs, and by the Floods,
All that I or you count dear,
All he loves, and all I fear:
I charge you, I charge you not to awake
My LOVE, from the rest, which now he does take,
Till himself pleases the signal to make!

CHORUS Gentium.

Chorus.
What fair One's that (but words can ne'er express
How fair she is) who from the Wilderness,
Leaning on her BELOVED's Arm ascends,
And hitherward their amo'rous Journey tends.
They 'are come, and now approach't so near,
That wer't not rudeness, we their privacies may hear.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.
—There 'twas, under the Apple-Tree,
Where first I found, and first rais'd Thee.
Thy Mother there her Fruit disclos'd,
And there thou first didst lie expos'd,
And hadst lain still, but that I came,
Led to Thy rescue, by my first Loves purest flame.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
Blest, ever blessed be that Day.
When thus Thou cam'est, and thus I lay!
O let us never, never part,
But make me' a Seal upon Thy Heart!
A Badg Thou on Thy Arm mayst wear,
That where Thou art, I may be there,
And never, never from Thee part,
But always on, or next Thy Heart!
“For love, (And who loves more than I?)
“Stronger than Death, does Death defie.
“His Conquests like the Graves, extend,
“And further, up to Heav'n his flames ascend.
“But never was there such a Flame,
“As that, in which to me he came;
“So dreadful, scorching, and so bright,
“I blest, but trembled at the sight.
“A Fire; Love was himself that Fire,
“Which in no Waters will expire:
“But, eve'n in Floods, securely lives,
“And all their watry threats survives.
“Nor quench, nor drown it can the Flood,
“Nor buy it, all the seeming good
“This World, that mighty Chapman, boasts
“In his vast Traffique through all Coasts.
“For so invaluable is its price,
“And its exchange so monstrous high does rise,
“The Universe too little is for 'its Merchandise.

CHORUS Gentium, &c.

Chorus.
A LITTLE Sister yet we have,
For whom we'd Loves assistance crave.
Young, and little, though she 'is yet,
And her Brest not fully set,
Tho as yet no Breasts she has,
Grow our Sister does apace.
But if thus high Loves price does go,
What shall we for our little Sister do,
When the time comes, that we should her bestow?

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.
If, when grown up, your Sister prove a Wall,
We'll on her build a Silver Arcenal;
Defence, and Ornament we'll to her give,
And all her Stones shall, as ith' Quarry, live.
If, when grown up, your Sister prove a Door,
With Cedar mouldings we will case her o're;
With Freeze, and Cornice all her Pillars crown,
And to her sacred Glories add our own.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
But I'm a Wall, and my soft Brests full grown,
Like Towers, upon the subject Camp look down.
My constancy to guard the Fort does stand,
And dares the rudest Shock, of th' roughest Hand.
This as my WELL-BELOVED heard me say,
The Holy Boast he did approve;
And in his Eyes I found such grace that Day,
I dare no longer doubt his Love.

SPONSUS.

Sponsus.

SPONSA.

Sponsa.
And so Thou shalt—
—LOVE, bring the Day,
Haste it, LOVE, and come away!
On th' Spicy Mountain tops appear,
Swift as the fleet-wing footed Deer!
And driving thence the baleful Night,
On th' Spicy Mountains shed Thy Light,
Fleet as their heels, and than their Horns more bright!

Veni Domine, JESU, Veni citò.
SOLI DEO GLORIA.
Cujus Amore inflammato corde hæc cecini,
Inscius licet, & indignus: Suscipe laudes
Famuli tui. Amen.

ΕΠΩΔΗ THE LEGEND OF LOVE

To the Muse, ODE PINDARIC.

To the Right Reverend FATHER IN GOD, SETH Lord Bishop of SARUM.

Mindful, whence first she learnt the early Skill,
In humble strains Almighty LOVE to sing;
And then of Her, to whom she' her Works does bring,
The CHURCH, and Colledg, both whose Names instil
Like Sentiments, and shall Fames Records fill
With Worthies, fit to 'employ the Noblest string
Of Heav'n-tun'd Verse, and almost tire its Wing,
To bear them, hence translated, up its Hill:
My Muse to You, my LORD, and your great Name,
This LEGEND of the one, and t'other LOVE,
(As different as their Ends and Natures prove)
Doubly inscribes; that thence her purer Flame
To Heav'n, so offer'd, may more grateful rise;
The grosser Parts be Wood for th' Sacrifice.

A PARAPHRASE UPON Some Select HYMNS OF THE New and Old TESTAMENT, With some other Occasional Compositions IN English RIMES.

The VI great HYMNS of St. LUKE.

I. HYMN. The ANGELS Salutation.

Hail of Heaven highly Grace'd,
Hail, O VIRGIN full of Grace!
Heav'ns Blessings all on Thee be place'd,
In whom Heav'ns GOD takes up his Place!
Blest Thou among all Women be,
Blest be Thy Name and Memory,
Blest VIRGIN-MOTHER be Thy Stile to' Eternity!

II. HYMN. The Salutation of ELIZABETH.

III. HYMN. The Song of the BLESSED VIRGIN.

IV. HYMN. The Song of ZACHARIAS.

V. HYMN. The ANGELIC Hymn.

Glory be to God on High!
Ith' Highest Great Jehovah bless!
Good will tow'rds Men, on Earth be Peace!
Glory to God on High!
And may this Round, begun thus, last eternally.

VI. HYMN. The Song of SIMEON.

Comiato.

Songs, made in lieu of many more,
(And more than Songs,) which to his Love I owe,
Who, when your Master waited at the Door,
First let him in, and sacred Honours did bestow;
(You, blessed Songs, ith' Temple first to sing,
And then to Descant, on an humbler thing.)
To his, and your lov'd Patron go,
And tho you ne're can recompence
The ease, and leasure both of us have thence,
Proffer the utmost service Verse can do;
And as He is your Ornament,
Be of my grat'itude and his Virtue the fixt Monument.

The VIII Great HYMNS of the Apocalyps.

I. HYMN. The Adoration of the XXIV ELDERS.

II. HYMN. The Acclamation of Heaven, upon MICHAEL's overthrow of the Dragon and his Angels.

III. HYMN. The Happy Dead.

IV. HYMN. The Song of MOSES and of the LAMB.

V. HYMN. The Angel of the Waters Lauds.

VI. HYMN. The holy Company of Heaven rejoycing at the overthrow of BABYLON.

III

Judg'd she is, who th' Earth did stain
With her Prostituted Train:
Justly judg'd to 'Eternal Pain,
And aveng'd the Blood she shed,
Dying ever, is never dead.

IV

Hallelujah; to our King
Worship, Laud, and Praises bring,
Glory, Power, and Honour sing!
Lo! how up her Smoke does rise,
Who dead ever, never Dies!

Ceciderùntque viginti quatuor Seniores, &c. & dixerunt Amen, &c.

VII. HYMN. Epithalamium on the LAMBS Marriage.

I.

Praise Him, ye Servants of th' Eternal King,
To God your noblest Praises sing,
And make Heav'ns vault with the loud Eccho ring!
Praise Him, all ye, who fear his Name,
And o're th' Expanse his Lauds proclaim;
Both great and small in tuneful Shouts accord,
And with one Heart and Voice adore our Lord!

Et audivi quasi vocem turbæ magnæ, & sicut vocem aquarum multaram & sicut vocem tonitruorum magnorum dicentium Alleluja! quoniam, &c.

VIII. HYMN. The Exultation of Heaven, at the Descent of the New JERUSALEM.

Our Blessed Lord's Thanksgiving.

The Song of MOSES.

CHORUS Mulierum.

Sing to the Lord, who gloriously,
His Promise, and his Ancient Faith to keep,
Has gotten Himself, and us the Victory,
And Horse, and Rider hurld at once into the Deep!

The WELL.

The Prayer of JABEZ.

Ode. The Song of DEBORA.

I.

Israel , the blest and happy State,
For whom th' Almighty all his Wonders show'd;
Israel, your great Redeemer celebrate,
And what for you he did, rehearse aloud!
Tell, how he made his hand appear,
And when the willing Tribes their Youth an Off'ring sent,
How God before the Sacred Army went,
And vengeful Ruine follow'd in the Reer!
And ye, O Kings, (whose awful Sway
The many-headed Multitude obey,
And at whose feet they both their Necks and Tributes lay;)
Princes and Rulers, to my Song attend,
Whose lofty Subject challenges your Ear,
By all that can a Verse commend,
Or greatest Kings perswade to hear,
A tuneful Voice, with Charms divinely strong,
A Woman begs your audience now;
And if that will not do,
Deb'rah a Judg in Israel sings, and Israels God's the Song.

II.

Lord, out of Seir, when Thou didst go,
Marching the Hill, before Thine Host adown,
When Thou mad'st Edoms Fields Thy Conquests know,
And with Arm'd Troops the Wilderness didst crown;
Affrighted Earth did at Thy Presence quake,
Heav'ns labo'ring Machin did the Warning take,
And from its torn sides dreary Tempests shake.
It thundred, and down fell from Heavens high Tow'r,
Of Stones and scalding Rain a mighty show'r;
With Darkness all the Sky was cover'd o're,
Through which the blew-wing'd Lightning flew,
And after it a trail of kindled Brimstone drew.
It strook the Rocks, and they took fire;
The Mountains with excessive heat did melt,
Unusual scorchings Sinai felt;
And tho than other Hills exalted higher,
Tho with its head it did to th' Clouds aspire,
Sinai nor could resist, nor bear the Flame,
But down in a burning Torrent headlong came.

III.

Samgar and Jahel wondrous Saviours were,
And did in Counsel and in Arms excel;
Of Jahels Prudence we the Trophies are,
Six hundred Philistims by Samgar fell,
All with an Ox-goad slain, and driv'n like Beasts to Hell.
But yet the Roads untrodden lay,
Scar'd Passengers through Woods did stray,
And but to Dens & Caves led not the Mountainous highway.
Woods, and thick Bushes in all Pastures grew,
The Plough-man, and his Labour ceast,
The Land as Curst enjoy'd its rest,
And not each Seventh alone, but every Year a Sabbath knew.
It rested, till I Debora rose at last,
At last in Israel I a Mother rose,
Then when new Gods the People chose,
And from Rebellion to Idolatry had past.
But see the Vengeance that pursu'd their Sin,
Slavery and Cowardise at the Breach rusht in,
And not a Shield, or Spear was found midst forty thousand Men.

IV.

Fly, fly, my Muse, from this unmanly race,
And to new Pomps thy strains address;
Israels great Generals, who to efface
Of all our foregone Miseries the very trace,
Couragiously did to the Battel press,
And, where in Irons we lay, with Laurels strew'd the place.
With them my Heart, with them my Praise shall be.
And ye, O Fathers, who at Home reside,
And you, who equal Justice to dispense,
Unguarded to your peaceful Cities ride,
And Justice done, return unguarded thence;
Judges, and People by their arms set free,
Come in and joyn with me,
And let us bless the Lord, as we their Spoils divide!
Come let us bless Him, and proclaim
The Wonders of his Reverend Name;
There, whence we exil'd were of late,
And at our Fountains first begin,
Where we so oft have rescu'd been,
Scaping the Death we saw upon the Wing;
Our Fountains tuneful numbers will inspire,
And by their purling falls direct the Quire,
Which well tun'd there, we may advance in state,
And bring with Harps and Songs our Praises to the City Gate.

V.

Awake, O Debora, awake,
And from this hint fresh vigour take!
Encourage, and provoke Thy Lyre,
Till all its speaking Chords conspire,
And with Thy Voice a perfect Concert make!
Up Barak, at th' harmonious Sound,
Abinoams warlike Son arise!
Lo! Thy Captivity stands in Fetters bound,
To be Thy valours early Prize,
And dreadfully adorn Thy entrance with its Exequies!
Lead on, Great Prince, by God ordain'd
To be Thy Nations Glory, and this Days;
Who hast Thy self the heat of th' War sustain'd;
Tho Women with Thee share divided Praise!
And all the while Thou dost the sacred Mount ascend,
Boldly Thy Ransom'd Peoples shouts attend,
The Bays Thou wearest will Thy Head defend!
Yea, speak Thy self, how God made Thee,
The Captain of his Armies be;
And when retir'd Thou long hadst lain at Home,
How forth he call'd Thee to o'recome:
The strange deliv'erance by Thy Hands he wrought,
And how to mine he Judgment gave;
And let the Tribes, which with us fought,
A just Memorial in our Triumphs have!

VI.

Place Ephraim here, Ephraim whose Fortitude
In Amaleks first overthrow was try'd,
When stoutly he th' Uncircumcis'd defi'd,
And with unerring Shafts their flying Troops pursu'd.
Benjamin, with his Squadron follow'd close,
And his scorn'd Life more nobly to expose,
The Tribe, he dearest lov'd, for witness of his Courage, chose.
From Machir Princes to the Battel came,
And Counsellors from Zabulon,
Who to encrease the glory of their Name,
Kept by the Sword, what by the Pen they won.
Then Issachar and Napthali,
By Debora that, and this by Barak led,
Both valiant Tribes, and both resolv'd to die,
Or conquer with so brave an Head.
But had you seen the Emulation there,
And how they strove each other to out-fight;
You would have thought them arm'd with Heav'nly Might,
And (all so terrible they did appear
Such Trophies of Mail'd Corps did round them rear,)
That every Isra'elite a destroying Angel were.

VII.

Ruben the while did with his Flocks abide,
And blest the Flood, whose streams the parted Land divide.
Careless of what his Brethr'en thought,
And what the fears his cold indifference wrought;
Strange and distracted fears his cold indifference brought.
But why, O Ruben, why didst thou refuse
An Enterprize so great and good?
Was it to hear thy bleating Ews;
Or could thy Honour be so little understood,
That their plain Fleeces thou shouldst chuse,
Before a Robe di'd Purple, in thine Enemies blood?
This cold indifference, Ruben, lost thee more,
Than ever thou in Arms hadst gain'd before.
Ah! hadst thou been alone! but far behind,
By thy example, Gilead stai'd;
On Shipboard Dan drove on his Trade,
And Asser, that he might be signally unkind.
Tho of pale Death too Womanly affraid,
Rather than yield his aid,
Watcht on his naked Beaches, torn with Seas and Wind.
Unlike to Zabulon, and Nepthali,
Who best knew how to Live, yet fear'd the least to Die.

VIII.

Thither, my Song, behold their Ensigns spred
On the High-places, and how equally endu'd
With Learning, and with Conduct too, they shew'd,
That never friendlier those best gifts inhabited,
And softer thoughts designs more noble bred.
The Cananitish Kings approacht the Hill,
Tabor, by their defeat to be renown'd,
But fearful to ascend its top, did fill
The Plains of Tanaach, with their Camps around,
And lowd Megiddos Waters with their shoutings drown'd.
They came, and fought, but Heav'n, that took our part,
Bore the first shock, and on them turn'd the War;
A mortal shaft was sent from every Star,
Which sank like Lead, into the Spoilers Heart.
No Gain or Pay, the Sacred Legions took,
But to the Service arm'd, in Diamond marcht on,
And, whom they spar'd, Kison, that ancient Brook,
Kison in its swoln Torrent carri'd down.
In vain the Horse assay'd the Flood to stem,
Which hurld their Riders with them down the rapid stream.

IX.

Enough, my Soul, enough, the chase give o're!
Those Enemies thou hast seen, thou shalt behold no more.
Stop, for at length the War is done,
And thou in Blood, I know, tak'st no delight!
Sound a Retreat, the Day's thine own,
And so shall Sisera too, e're Night,
Finding the Death he'd shun by an inglorious flight.
But first confirm a Curse was laid
By our God's Angel, and a Charge divine,
“Curse ye Meros, the Angel said!
“Curse Meros bitterly, and join
Yours to Jehovah's Curse and mine!
Curse all, who dwell there, and be this their Doom,
Who like them to th' Almighty's standard will not come!
But blessed above Women be,
Israels and Hebers Ornament,
Jahel above all Women blest ith' Tent.
And let this Song preserve her Memory!
Never was greater Name
Recorded, ith' Eternal Monuments of Fame.

X.

To her on foot Sisa'ra his flight addrest:
The courteous Wife to meet him went:
The courteous Wife invited him into her Tent,
And future Joys with thoughtful Cares supprest.
He askt her Water, and she ran in haste,
To execute her own, and to prevent his Wish,
And pour'd him Milk into a Royal Dish:
(A ready and a quick repast.)
And having give'n the fatal Bait,
Humbly at his Feet did wait,
And smil'd to see how greedily he drank and slept his last.
“Sleep, Tyrant, sleep she said!
And up a Nail and Hammer took,
The Nail into his Temples struck,
And with his own unbloody Sword smote off his Head.
He bowd, he fell, and at her Feet he lay,
Down at her Feet he bow'd, fell, groan'd his Soul away,
Where he bow'd, there he fell down dead.

XI.

Comiato.

Song, in the Country little understood,
For my dear Gardiner, at the Town inquire,
And all thy heat into his gen'rous Brest inspire,
To mingle with a nobler Fire,
Which lies at present smouldring in his Blood!
Perchance thou may'st effectual prove,
To make that upward, tow'rds its Center, move,
And him in softest lays rehearse the HOLIEST LOVE.

David's ELEGY Upon the death of Saul and Jonathan.

DAVID's Thansgiving and Prayer.

The last words of DAVID.

Thus David, Jesse's Royal Son did sing,
Thus spake the Man, who the great Promise had,
That from his Loyns the CHRIST of God should spring.
On whose Eternal Shoulders should be laid
The Government, Psalmist of Israel,
Thus sang he, thus from Heav'n inspir'd he said:
The Spirit of God in Vision on me fell,
And by my Mouth Himself th' Almighty spake,
His Words they are, which I his Prophet tell,
His, who the Care of Israel does take,
And hitherto ne're falsifi'd His Trust,
Nor will, tho Heav'n and Earths Foundations shake.
“The Man, who rules o're others must be Just,
“Ruling himself, and them, ith' sacred Fear
“Of Heav'ns dread King, to whom account he must;
“For all the wrongs he does, or makes them bear;
“By an Impartial Judgment to be tri'd,
“Whose Doom definitive he forc'd shall hear.
Thrice happy Prince, who (e're that Oyes cry'd,)
The God within his Brest, his Conscience,
Appealing, and appeal'd has satisfi'd!
There, first absolv'd, with approv'd Innocence,
His Righteousness shall shine, as Morning Light,
When th' early Sun, his Glories to dispense,
New guilds the Sullys of the murky Night;
And without Cloud between his Beams to pass,
As higher he ascends, appears more bright.
So shall he shine; or as the tender Grass,
Shooting its verdant Head above the Ground,
With gems of pearly Dew, midst Flowers, takes place.
This I'll not say, that in my Rule I've found,
A perfect and uninterrupted Bliss,
(For what's my House, or Rule thus to be own'd?)
Yet for my Kingdoms Justice I'll say this,
That with me God a lasting Cove'nant made,
In all things sure, as His great Promise is:
Order'd and sure, nor e're to be o'resway'd,
Tho I too oft have forfeited His Love,
And when I should have rul'd, my Lusts obey'd.
But even then did I, and do now reprove
The Follies I so passionately pursu'd,
And whose remembrance greater Passions move.
Blest God forgive me! be Thy Word renew'd!
For all before Thee is my whole desire,
All in Thy sight, as it by me is view'd;
Confirm Thy Promise, humbly I require,
Not for my sake, O Lord, but for Thine own;
And double Zeal into my Son inspire!
So shall he grow up as a Plant alone,
And in his Fame, tho dead, I too shall grow,
The happy Father of an happier Son:
Whilst those, who will not to his Scepter bow,
As Thorns shall all of them be thrust away,
Thorns, which th' unguarded Hand tho they pierce through,
To th' Hook and Fire shall be an easie Prey:
Justice, which in his time from th' Earth shall spring,
And Peace, from Heaven descending, meet half way.

The Song of HEZEKIAH.

Three Psalms according to the old Version, and Meeter, ordinarily used in Churches, a little alter'd.

Psal. I.

Psal. LVII.

Psal. CXIV.

Psal. CLI.

Job cursing his Birth.

The Prayer of HABAKKUK.

II.

God came from Teman, and the Holy One,
Descended from Mount Paran, with a mighty Train:
The Earth to Heav'n did dart the Rays again,
And as He past the Skie with Glory shone.
Refined Light, without allay,
Such as above makes Angels Day,
Such was His Brightness, and such was His Way.
He was all Light, but from His Side
Shot forth a Beam, so clear, and pure,
That none to see it could endure;
And there, as in the dark, He did His Glories hide.
The Pestilence before Him went,
Gathering new Poysons, as the old were spent;
Ruine and Desolation, at His Feet,
Never to part again did meet,
But sworn to execute His Wrath on Man,
Kist and embrac'd each other close, as they before Him ran.

III.

He stood and in His Hand
He held a Line, and measuring Wand,
Both to mete out, and to destroy his Land.
Over the Earth the fatal Line He threw,
And that it level on all sides might lie,
He smote the Nations, and they' in haste withdrew;
Th' affrighted Earth, that fain would flie,
Seeing it could not stir, the Line did take,
But did with horrour, and amazement shake;
The Rocks as it came o're their Backs, did quake;
Bow'd down their Heads, and griev'd they were so high.
The everlasting Mountains scatt'red lay,
And the perpetual Hills sank down, and stole away.

IV.

I saw the Tents of Egypt in distress,
Methoughts I heard their doleful groans;
The Land did tremble, and its emptiness
An hollow murmur added to its moans,
And shriekt a deadly eccho from the wounded Stones,
When not content to see their First-born slain,
Conquer'd on Land, they once again
Would try the fortune of the Main.
Since they the Tenth Shock could so stoutly brave,
They scorn'd to fear the Eleventh Wave,
Till they themselves, and that saw buried in a Grave.
What ail'd the Rivers, Lord, what ail'd the Flood,
That Thou shouldst make their streams true Veins of Blood?
What could the Sea, against Thee do,
So small against so great a Foe,
Exalted Thou so high, and that so low?
Could it deserve Thy Wrath, or roar so loud,
From Heav'n, Thy Throne, to call Thee down;
Or in its swellings was it grown so proud,
It 'sdeign'd a check from a single frown,
Unless in Triumph God would o're it ride,
And Seas, from Seas below, as first from those above divide?

V.

So on the Sea; ith' Air his Bow was seen;
Not by Reflection, like the Rain-bow made,
Where all the pleasing Colours are together laid,
That Man might be no more afraid
Of a new Deluge to be unsherd in,
And once more drown, what it could never purge, his Sin.
That is his Bow of Peace, but this of War,
The Skie about it was with Darkness spread,
Slaughter, and Gore had stain'd it red,
Ghastly and terrible it glistned from afar.
A poysoned Arrow on the string did hang,
It hung a while, but when the Bow He drew,
Drawn to the head away it flew,
And flying gave a deadly twang;
The Air a good while after rang.
The sound how loud, the Pile how keen,
How would it enter, when no Mail could come between?
Such was his Word, which did their Way prepare,
The Oath, which to the Tribes He past,
Making them Conquerors every where,
Till they were in Canaan plac'd,
Till to the Promis'd Land, He brought them safe at last.

VI.

But first the War did rage at Home,
Thirst, a worse Foe than Amaleck, to be o'recome.
To God for Drink they cry,
Not with a Wet, but envious Eye;
For Drought long since had made those Cisterns dry.
They cry'd, and murmur'd, to' Egypt back would go,
Till from the Rock God bid the Waters flow;
The Rock obey'd, and to the sacred Rod did bow.
Out gusht new Streams, th' admiring Earth gave way,
But wondred how such Rivers should come there;
Yet lookt again to see her fear,
And as she saw it quak't, and ready cut in Channels lay.

VII.

There as He marcht, the Mountains saw their God,
And stagger'd as he shook His Rod;
The surly Deep past silent by,
And fearful any more to look on high,
In humble plains of liquid Chrystal flat did lie.
The bolder Waves, which yet would rise,
And with their towring Billows dare the Skies,
Seeing Him, started and shriekt out;
No more of their Defiance thought,
And of His Presence were asham'd to doubt.
As when one sees some Ruine near,
Ready upon his Head to fall,
Which yet he cannot help at all,
Cannot prevent; but with unequal strength must bear;
Expecting the dead weight he stands,
Shrinks in his Shoulders, and lifts up his Hands:
So stood the Waves, and without power to flie,
With rais'd up Hands and Eyes, had hardly strength to cry.

VIII.

The Sun amaz'd stood still, and at the sight,
Bid the Moon stop, and see the bloody Fight;
Never was such a Fight, never so long a Day,
When Heav'n it self did waiting stay,
Nor till it saw the Victors went away.
The Lord Himself that Day marcht out,
Hail-stones and Coals of Fire hurl'd all about;
In wrath He marcht, through the whole Land,
And thresht the Nations, as He past along,
His Arm so weighty, and his Wrath so strong,
None durst against Him stand.
To save his People did He thus appear,
To them so Glorious, to His Foes so full of Fear.

IX.

To th' Earth He stroke their Princes down,
Their Villages destroy'd, sack'd every Town;
Tho like a Whirlwind, they against us came,
God for us fought in arms of Flame.
Flames, which their blasts made fiercer burn,
And on themselves with double Vengeance turn;
In Fire God came against them, and o'recame:
Did through the Sea on His great Horses ride,
Whilst Waves to make Him room, stood up in heaps, on either side.

X.

This as I heard my Joynts unloos'd,
Through all my Veins chill Horrour was diffus'd.
My Belly trembled, and my Lips did quake,
My Bones for very rottenness did shake.
Afraid I was, yet could not chuse but fear,
When I such mighty things did hear,
When e're I was aware,
The God, who did them I perceiv'd drew near.
O may I rest, when he to judg shall rise!
For when He does the wicked World chastise,
How heavy then will be His Hand, how red his Eyes!

XI.

From Thee, Lord, then, to my God now I flie,
And for Thy Mercy, on Thy Power relie,
Propitious Thee thy Land has found, and so shall I.
Nothing shall make me quit my trust,
For Thou art Pitiful, as well as Just
No, tho the Fig-Tree blossom not,
And on the Vine the generous clusters rot;
Tho th' labours of the Olive cease,
And all the lesser Plants of Life,
With Man, as He is with his God at strife,
Deny to give their rich encrease.
Let th' Earth threat Famine, bear no Grass,
Iron below, as Heav'n above, is Brass.
No Fruit, no Pasture yield,
But be with Thorns and Brambles fill'd,
And they burnt up, whilst there's a Furnace in each Field;
Let the Flocks die, and in the Stall
The Ox, not by the Knife, but want of Fodder fall;
Yet in my God will I rejoyce,
Whose care I am, as I made him my choice.
'Tis He's my strength, and freed from fear,
For me on high He shall His Truth display;
Or when the Desolation's near,
Give me Hinds Feet to scape away.

Comiato

Song wherewith I first Begun,
My Great Redeemers Praise to sing;
And from a far more noble string,
(Than I was wont) an Hebrew Descant run,
For the great Harp of Jesses Son,
To be prepar'd, when Time should be:
Preserve that Times blest Memory,
And all that, by Thee' inspir'd, I since have done,
That if with Men no Grace I find,
With Heav'n I may, and Peace in my own Mind!

OCCASIONAL RIMES.

The Saying of CLEANTHES.

Upon a terrible Storm of Thunder, Wind, and Rain, 25 July 1670, done by Night in the midst of it.

The Nativity.

An Ode.

The STAR.

A Carol For the Epiphany by the III Kings.

1. King.
See how that Glorious Star, at Noon does rise,
And like another Sun new Guilds the Skies!

2. King.
Look how it dares the Ruler of the Light,
And in His clearest Beams appears more bright,
Calling before its time the sluggish Night!

3. King.
Rather the Conquer'd Sun to' its Rays gives way,
And but a Phospher seems to its new Day.
The Conquer'd Sun, &c.

[Chorus trium.]
2. King.
Sure 'tis no common Star, see where it goes
A daring Passage it self only knows;

1. King.
And cross the Heav'n points out to Palestine,
And as it that way leads more bright does shine:
Come let us follow, where it leads, and see

3. King.
What may the Cause of its appearing be,
Whether it set a Star, or some Divinity.
Come let us, &c.
[Chorus alter trium.]

3. King.
Some greater Power, which to direct our Way,
Has chose this borrowed Shape, and glorious Ray;
And when we knew not well which Road to go,

1. King.
Does tow'rds Judea our great Journey show:

2. King.
That way it points, that way we must along,
No fear, when Heaven's out Guide, we should go wrong.
That way, &c.
[Chorus trium tertius.]

1. King.
O're Bethle'm lo! at length the Flame does rest!
Bethle'm, that with the Prince of Peace is blest:

2. King.
Bethle'm, which must by ancient Prophecy
The Tyring-House of the Almighty be,
Where he will cloath Himself with base Humanity.

3. King.
And that's the House, where we our Gifts must bring
To the World's God, and Israel's Infant King.

Chorus Omnium.
Hither 'twas, hither the bright Star did lead,
Let's enter humbly, and approach with Fear:
The Star, which brought, will shew him us more clear,
And be a Glory round the Infants Head:
O this is He! fall down, and worship him! fall down
And kiss his Feet, whose Head ev'n Heav'n thus stoops to Crown!

The PASSION.

An Ode.

EPIGRAM

When my God Di'd, I first began to Live,
And Life which he refus'd Heav'n me did give
Unlike that Day, O how unlike we were!
Him dead the Cross, me 'alive the Knees did bear.
But may not I die too? This life of mine
I can as well as Thou dispise, if not like Thine.
Ah dearest Lord, this Legacy bestow,
A double Life, then to Thy Death I'll owe:
And sanctifi'd thus in my Birth by Thee,
A living Death, my dying Life shall be.

An Extasie of Divine Love.

The Flight.

An Hymn and Prayer, To the Holy JESUS my Lord.

Parode.

An HYMN for Vespers.

Jesu CHRIST, blest Light of Light,
Th' Immortal Fathers chearful shine,
Ray of Glory, all Divine,
Equally with Him fair, and bright;
When we see the Day decline,
Calling the sluggish Evening on,
We praise the Father and the Son,
And in our Lauds the Spirit joyn,
“Worthy art Thou, O God, we say,
“Worthy, O Son of God, art Thou,
“And Thou, of Life the Lord and Giver,
“Worthy to be Prais'd for ever,
“Great THREE and ONE to Thee we bow,
“And with th' whole World thus Crown each Day!

LENT.

Sestina al' Italiana Convertimento a Dio.

The Song of the ANGELS,

At the Fall of Lucifer.

Deo Opt. Max. S.

This Altar to Thy Name, Great God, I raise,
The Pious Labour of my too late Praise:
With Stones from Thine own sacred Quarry brought,
Tho by my Artless Hand but rudely wrought.
Artless and rude, tho its Traces be,
Methinks I by it clearly see,
My Past Supports, and Future care,
And what of both 'is my present share,
The Guidance of the Love Divine,
Making me call his Pleasure mine.
O let it in Thy Presence stand,
Inviolable from any Hand.
And when on it thou deignst to look,
Write down the Votary in Thy Book.
Who at its Foot, has his Dependance set,
And in th' Inscription thus proclaimes Thee Great;
To God, who hitherto has helpt; my only Trust,
And for the Future will provide, for He is Just.
Ad Psalmos, 1667.

ODE.

Ad Passagium inducendum.

I.

Blest Soul, in Heaven expected long,
(And long in Heav'n mayst Thou expected be,
Who 'art cloath'd, not loaded with Humanity,
Like others, but more Resolute, and Strong,
Of God belove'd, those briny Paths to tread,
Which from our unjoyn'd World, unto his Kingdom lead)
Look how a Western Gale,
Do's on Thy Barques spred Canvass blow,
Loos'd from the Shore long since, with hoys'd up Sail,
A better Port than what Thou leav'st to know!
The Wind is to Thy Service prest,
And from this gloomy Vale, where we complain,
Both of our own, and others Wrongs in vain,
Of Thy first Innocence possest,
In a strait Line will drive Thee to Thy Rest,
And, whether now thou 'art bound, to the true East.

II.

'Twas, that or now the fervent Prayers
Of holy Men, re'inforced by their Tears,
Had on th' Eternal Goodness wrought;
Or if both Prayers, and Tears were weak,
And useless Arms to stop th' Almighty Justice thought,
Nor us'd, it may be, its fixt Course to break;
Twas that of His meer Love alone,
Heav'ns Sacred King, again deny'd,
Again by 'His Murdr'ous Enemies defi'd,
Ith' place where He in triumph Di'd,
In pity thither did at length look down.
He lookt, and in the generous Brest,
Of holy Charles revenge inspir'd;
Revenge, which was too long desir'd,
Revenge, whose lingring Europe did infest,
But only to be greater was a while deferr'd.
Thus would He help his Spouse belov'd,
And of a War just Heav'n approv'd,
The bare report found Babylon thoughtful, left her mov'd.

III.

All, who between the Alps and Garoone dwell,
Twixt Rhodanus, and Rhene, and the salt Sea,
The Christian Armies with their Banners swell;
Whole Spain, that Jealous ever us'd to be
Of others Honour, to the Camp does come,
Leaving the Pirenes behind, to guard its empty Home.
Britain, and all the Isles that lie,
From th' Orcades extremity,
To where the Straits do Afric bound,
With all where e're is found
But the first Traces of the Gospels sound,
Various in Garb, various in Arms and Speech,
Chari'ty does to th' high Impress provoke, or else beseech.
And worthier her, what could be ever done,
Or who has e're so just a War begun?
Not Menelaus for his Wife, nor Minos for his Son.

IV.

Up in the North midst Winter, and thick Snow,
Beyond the Suns auspicious Ray,
Where Clouds and Storms mete out the short liv'd Day,
Is bred a Nation, which did never know
Peace, and her Charms, or if it did, but as a Foe;
Who ne're were heard, or Wounds to flie, or Pain,
Or of Deaths Icy Fetters to complain,
That were their Country to upbraid, and Birth to stain.
These, more devout grown than of old,
With German rage, have of the Sword tane hold.
Turks, Arabs, Saracens, and the shame
They go against of Heathen Deities,
Only to know were to despise,
As fit but with their Blood, their bordring Sea anew to name.
A People naked, timo'rous, ignorant of War,
That ne're strook blow, but from a far,
And only with their Arrows wound the bloodless Air.

V.

Now is the time, from our too patient Neck,
That ancient Yoke, wherewith we' are gall'd, to break,
And from our Eyes the Vail to lay aside,
Which both the Ene'mies weakness, and our strength does hide.
And now, my Friend, is an occasion seen,
Wherein you may those Virtues show,
Which part from Heav'n you have, and part have gaind below;
The Trophies of your Tongue, and learned Pen
Nor will it longer any Wonder be,
Tho you of Orpheus, and Amphion read,
Whose Songs tam'd Beasts, and Stones did lead,
When of your own a greater Miracle you see,
And Men more Deaf, and Salvager than they,
Led by your Skill, go where you point the Way.
When Italy, awak'ned by the sound
Of your loud Voice, and all her Sons around,
Rise from their sleep, expecting that bright Day,
When they' may get him Laurels, who with Thorns was Crownd.
Ne're had that Aged Mother yet,
An opportunity so fair, her Sons a cause more great.

VI.

Thou, who to' enrich the Treasure of thy Brain,
Hast many a flying Roll turnd o're,
Of th' present Times, and those that went before,
And on those Wings to Heav'n aloft dost soar,
Seeing the Fates of Empires all beneath Thee plain;
Full well Thou knowst how in the Roman State,
From the first Day that Mars his Son,
In Blood laid its Foundation,
Till great Augustus, who thrice entred the triumphal Gate,
Rome of her Blood was ever free,
And for the Wrongs her Alleys bore,
Without regret that Sacrifice could see:
And shall she now more sparing be,
When stricter Bands, and sacred Piety,
Expect, and challenge more,
Her Saviour to revenge, and Sepul'cher to restore?
What help can Nature yield, or Art,
Or what faint hopes inforce the Enemies part,
When from Christ's Hand is thrown the first & fatal Dart?

VII.

Think of Proud Xerxes bold design,
Who to approach and tread our Shore
Europe and Asia, with a Bridg did joyn,
And Seas an Outrage bore,
Which Rivers only felt unwillingly before.
The Persian Dames, who thought to Greet
Their Husbands Victo'ries, and their Conquests meet,
At their o're-throw confounded stood,
In Black they Mourn'd, and th' Hellespont triumph'd in Blood.
Nor is't this Naval Victory alone,
Which like Success does promise you;
But the unlucky Marathon,
To th' Father so, as Thermopyle was to the Son,
When brave Leonidas, with but a few,
Maintain'd those Straits, and like a Lion flew,
Or Eagle on the Prey, and did more than Subdue.
With thousand Histories more,
Which you'my Friend, have heard and read, and treasur'd up in store.
Wherefore the least which you can do,
Devoutly is that God to Praise,
Who for such haypy Times, and hopes has cast your Days.

Comiato.

To Rome long since, and Tybers Streams,
Petrarch this Ode, when his, did recommend;
To London now, and the more honour'd Thames,
Since thus made mine, I it abroad will send,
(Where more judicious Spi'rits its numbers will attend,)
And thence whole Christendome invite,
All other Wars being thrown aside,
In vain 'twixt Brethren for false Glory often tri'd,
In an Eternal League to' unite,
And where the true may be 'easier gain'd, with Infidels to fight.

ODE.

To the Right Reverend Father in God GEORGE Lord Bishop of Winton, my very good Lord.

I.

A fair, and Vertuous Dame,
Bright as the Mid-day Sun, but more Divine,
My tender Age first overcame,
And made me to her part my Fortunes joyn.
With thoughts uncommon she my Mind inspir'd,
Then gave me Words their Image to express,
Whilst the dull World judg'd me to sloth retir'd,
Or piti'd, (which was worse) my Unhappiness,
(For such it counts those gifts, which Heav'n-born Souls possess.)
Through thousand ways she was my guide,
And changing still from what I was,
Tho her fair Eyes she with a Vail did hide,
I felt their Influence through my Liver pass;
So that for love of her I 'have undergone
Such Hardships, and such Risques have run,
That if at last I shall arrive
At th' happy Port, I hope to live
Beyond the power of Death, an Age, which She can give.

II.

'Twas many a Year, that thus She led me on,
Big with Conceit, and Youthful Fire;
For trial, as I since have known,
If I'd prove constant to my first desire,
Shewing me now her Mantle, Shade, or Vest,
But to my Fancy leaving all the rest:
With which yet well enough content,
My Youth I in her Service spent
So pleasantly, that I can scarce the Time repent.
At length, prevail'd on by my Prayers,
My Importunity, and Tears,
Her Glories She was pleas'd to show;
But then how little was't that I before did know?
“'Twas midnight with me sure, I said, till now.
And with the sight there rose a storm of Cares,
Amaz'd I at the Vision stood,
Wisht in my Arms, what yet I fear'd too good,
A Flame was in my Heart, and Ice was in my Blood.

III.

In this Surprize the heat I felt within
Gave me new Courage, and did make me bold;
Whilst the chil Fetters, which did hold
My Captive Powers, to loosen did begin,
And nearer I approacht to 'admire her Beauties yet unseen.
I came, and gazing stood, when she
Turning to mine her Heav'nly Face,
“Now, Friend, that I am Fair, said, you may see,
“Possibly Fairer than you ghest I was,
“I'm sure more Powerful, for what ever now
“Befits your Years but ask, and I'll bestow.
“'Tis a long time, Fair One, I said,
“That on you only have I placed my love,
“The Joys of which I here most truly prove,
“With Air before, and empty Shadows fed;
“But now so strangely smitte'n, that to require
“Ought but your Pleasure, were my' own ruine to desire.
With a Voice then, and look Divine,
Which chase'd my Fears, and did my Hope refine,
In this most gracious Speech, she answer'd mine.

IV.

“In your mad World, and its Impertinence,
“'Tis rare, but when my Worth is heard,
“The veriest Stock has felt some little sense,
“And my just Service for a time preferr'd:
“In love to me, and my rewards would burn;
“Only my cruel Enemy,
“That seeks what e're I build to overturn,
“Quenches the Flames I kindle with mine Eye,
“And makes all Vertue die;
“Promising largely, what he ne're can grant,
“Those Pleasures, and that ease he crys my Subjects want.
“But Love, my Friend, has said so much of you,
“And all he said I find so true,
“That you henceforth my Charge shall be,
“Unsought for Honours both to Gain, and Merit too.
“One of my choicest Friends I'll stile you now,
“And as to such, a Fairer Lady show,
“Than me you 'admire, where you more richly may your Love bestow.

V.

That can ne're be, I was about to say,
“When look she added to that Gallery,
('Twas a large Balcone rais'd on High)
“And if you can my words deny!
“Such Beauties are not seen by all, nor every Day.
I lookt, but strait inclin'd my Head,
With Wonder struck, and sacred Dread;
I lookt again, and felt within,
A new, and greater Flame begin:
Which as she saw her Railliery thus she drest,
“I well enough know where-about you are,
“And as the Sun, when he doth first appear,
“Makes every Star its twinkling ray devest,
“Perceive my Eyes now seem less bright,
“Since thus obscur'd by 'a greater Light;
“Tho to be hers, you need not me to leave,
“For to us both one Seed and Birth did being give,
“She as the Elder first, then I did mine receive.

VI.

A Strain so sweet my Tongue unloos'd,
And fearing now no more the Shame
I had conceiv'd, upon my hasty Flame,
Least my first Love should deem her self abus'd,
Thus I repli'd: “If this be true
(“And who dare doubt it once, since said by you)
“Thrice happy Father, and thrice happy Day,
“In which you two into the World were brought!
“And such from hence shall all that time be thought,
“Which others tell I' have fondly thrown away.
“'Tis now my Trouble more,
“Than e're it was my Joy before,
“That I reacht here so late, or did no sooner stray.
“But if I'm worthy, and 'tis fit to show
“Of your Condition more than what I know,
“A greater Honour you to none can ever do.
Looking me then to th' very Heart,
And with her Eye engraving there,
What e're she spake, in a deep Character,
Fixt and Compos'd she thus resum'd her part.

VII.

“Know then, 'twas our Eternal Father's Will,
“That we, like Him, should both Immortal be;
“But what's all that to you the while?
“Wretches enamour'd of your Slavery,
“For whom 'twere better, that the fault were ours,
“Of all the disrespect we find, than that 'tis only yours.
“Courted and Lov'd we were of Old,
“But now to such a Pass reduc'd,
“That she to Heav'n, and Contemplation us'd,
“Has taken Flight to reach her ancient hold:
“I stay'd behind a while, but have been so abus'd,
“That thither too I'll 'scape e're long,
“And only where she gives the ground, inspire the Song:
“For of my self I'm but her empty shade.
Then turning as about to go,
“But first receive as both our Gift, she said,
“This Wreath, which we for you together made!
And with her Hands she bound
Immortal Bays, my Temples all around.

Comiato.

To FERNHAM, Song, I'd have thee go,
Where thy great Patron at first sight will know
Both what's thy Sense, and Mystery;
Nor need'st thou Him, as thou must others show,
When they ask who these Virgins be,
That one is sacred POESY,
Th' other the Heav'nly Maid, THEOLOGY:
With whom thy Master long since deep in Love,
And destitute of Friends,
The fair One in his Suit to move,
Thee on the Message to his Palace sends.
Only remember thou his Leisure wait,
And nor intrude too soon, nor stay too late!
If He says thou art none of mine,
And so to Petrarch more incline,
Tell him our Thoughts were equal, as our Fate;
And that there lacks one Spirit to Write, and to Translate.

Sonnet of the same.

Ad promotionem in S. S. Ordines.

Prepare thy Chariot, Love, and heaviest Chain,
That for my Muses Sister, this for me,
For I at length have got the Victory,
And loaded thus must grace her pompous Train!
I'm Conqueror, and the Arms, which did obtain
The mighty Spoil, were Importunity,
Freedom renounc'd, and sacred Vows to be
Her Slave, o're whom I should the Victory gain.
Mysterious War! yet since thou dost delight,
Great Love, thy Sov'raignty to exercise
In such unheard of Contrarieties,
Lo! how I suit my entrance to the Fight:
The Victor is in Chains led Captive Home,
And she in Triumph Rides, who was o'recome.

ODE.

The Apology.

I

Citing my old, and cruel Master, Love,
Before that Queen, which holds our part Divine,
And first descending from the Seats above,
Ith' Brain enthron'd with Heavenly Light does shine,
I shew'd my self like Gold, by Flames made fine.
Loaded I came, with Horrour, Grief, and Fear,
Those heavy Chains my Jaylor on me laid,
And as a Wretch, who begs his Judg to hear,
Tho Self-condemn'd, and of pale Death afraid,
I bow'd to th' Bar, and all in Tears thus said:
“In an ill Hour, Great Queen, I toucht the Land
“Of this false Prince, where Rage, and Pride command;
“And where, even from a Youth, I underwent
“Such different Torments, that with Pain quite spent,
“My Life seem'd more a burden than delight,
“And Patience was o'recome, tho next to Infinite.

II

“In Pains, and Anguish, spending thus my Age,
“How many Seasons did I, Fool, despise,
“My self in Noble Studies to engage,
“Whereby in Wealth I might, and Honour rise,
“Deceiv'd of both by empty Flatteries?
“But where's the Wit that can such Words command,
“And at its pleasure fit Expressions call,
“That others may my Miseries understand,
“And how I'm just to implead this Criminal?
“How little Hony has Love, and how much Gall!
“I tasted both, but both were temper'd so,
“The sweet above, the bitter lay below;
“Seducing to fond Amours by surprize,
“A Soul, if I mistake not, made to rise,
“And up in Heav'n Exalted look more fair:
“Nor did Love only break my Peace, but rais'd new War.

III

“My God, I'm sure, He less has made me love,
“Ten thousand times less than a Creature ought;
“Nor could I to my self more faithful prove,
“While for a Mistress I by him was brought,
“To slight compar'd with her all other thought.
“Love was my Counsellor, that Enemy,
“Whom here I charge, who 'exciting my desire,
“Whilst all in vain I for Repose did cry,
“Permitted me no leisure to respire,
“But to asswage the burning brought more Fire.
“(Alas!) what profit's it to have a mind
“By Heav'ns best Gifts, and purest Flame refin'd,
“Since tho my Hairs, through Age I'm changing still,
“I ne're, O, ne're can change my' unruly Will;
“Become to this fierce One so much a Slave,
“By use, that it were Death my Liberty to have!

IV

“Strange Coasts he' has made me seek, and Forraign Lands,
“And thousand Perils blindly undergo;
“Sometime by Robbers, sometime rolling Sands,
“Ready to be devour'd, rude Manners know,
“And Pilgrim like no Guide my way to show.
“Mountains I 'have past, and Vales, rough Storms, and Seas,
“Treading on Snares, too close to be descry'd;
“And in my wandrings, stranger than all these,
“Have Winter seen on th' Wings of Summer ride,
“With Dangers only running by my side.
“But nor him, nor my other Enemy,
“Could I by flight escape, or secresie;
“So that with Death if I unconquer'd strove,
“The thanks are Heav'ns, and none belong to Love.
“This tyran Love, who by my Grief revives,
“Feeds on my Pain, and by my Torment only lives.

V

“Not one free Hour, since his, have I enjoy'd,
“Nor hope to 'enjoy; eve'n sleep from the sad Night
“Is bannisht, and my former rest destroy'd;
“In vain by Herbs, or Charms, I seek my right,
“For what by Fraud he 'has got, he keeps by Might.
“Usurping Tyran! and he knows 'tis true,
“When I add further, my just Charge to swell,
“The Darkness only did my Pain renew,
“Nor wanted I, oft heard, times Passing-Bell,
“Who by my Groans the weary Hours could tell.
“What more? Gnawing he in my Brest does lie,
“And long sought Death, does to th' assault defie;
“Hence flow my Tears, and hence my Flames arise,
“Hence my Complaints, and all those dolorous Sighs,
“With which my self I tire, and others too,
“Great Queen, who knowst us both, between us Justice do!

VI

I spake—but Love all in a rage reply'd,
“Now t'other part, Great Queen, be pleas'd to hear!
“The Truths which this Ingrate has sought to hide,
“I to your Clemency will make appear,
“And Sentence, till I 'have spoken too, forbear!
“Know then this Wretch, with Mercenary Breath,
“Not Words alone, but Lyes had learnt to sell;
“Till I his Youth reclaim'd, and from that Death,
“Whither he was hasting, brought him sound, and well,
“In pure Delights, sore 'against his Will to dwell.
“I was his Guide, by me he first arriv'd
“At th' happy Port, where he has safely liv'd;
“And this he grieves, this he calls Misery,
“And all those unsought Favours shown by me;
“A Fame, which by his Birth he ne're had gain'd,
“Till I who rais'd his Wit, that Honour too obtain'd.

VII

“He knows that Menelaus, and Achilles too,
“And Anibal, and a greater than all these,
“The mighty Scipio I did once subdue,
“And after all their Wars, enslav'd in Peace,
“Giving them Waiting-Maids for Mistresses.
“But for him Wretch, a Love so sacred chose,
“And of a Million so beyond compare,
“That Heav'n alone such sublim'd Beauties knows,
“This World has nothing half so bright, or fair,
“Not Rome it self, tho its Lucrece were there.
“Nor was this all, but gave withal a Voice,
“And of Harmonious Numbers so great choice,
“Such skill to Sing, that nothing base, or low,
“E're reacht his Thoughts, except his Malice now.
“These my Deceits were, these my Flatteries,
“For which I'm charg'd, which others would as Honours prize.

VIII

“This was the Gall, these the Disdains and Ire,
(“Favours too great to be so soon forgot)
“By which I kindled the most sacred Fire;
“But see the Blaze my Labour answers not,
“Who for a thankless Man thus long have wrought.
“If under me he has the Skill attain'd,
“To Ravish all, who do his Numbers hear,
“If with the Good, he such Respect has gain'd,
“And with the Great, that to' him they Deference bear,
“How high so e're he Soar'd, I fixt him there.
“Till now perchance some servile Wretch he' had been,
“A Brawler at some Bar, without esteem;
“But I first rais'd him, made him first be known,
“Nor were those Arts he Riots in, his own,
“But in my School he first procur'd the Grace,
“And then from her, who next me his great Mistris was.

IX

“Yet last of all, hear his grand Slavery,
“And you will think he' has reason to complain:
“From thousand Chains of Vice I set him free,
“By Her, whose Favour he could never gain
“By any Act, which had the smallest stain.
“Temp'rate, and Modest in design and deed,
“Since a Liege Man of hers, he still has been;
“Who with great thoughts his abject Soul did feed,
“And of her self ith' Cure threw so much in,
“That to be like her he did strait begin.
“What e're he boasts then, worthy Praise or Fame,
“From us the Spoilers of his Fortune came;
“But ne're was Dream so wild, or humorous,
“To itself so strange, as he has been to us;
“For tho by us he's known to God, and Man,
“The Happiness he or repents, or does disdain.

X

“There's one thing more, which all the rest out-does,
“I gave him Plumes to mount above the Skies,
“By Mortal things, which, to the Man who knows
“The Learning, like a Towring Pyramis,
“To the first Maker by degrees arise;
“For seeing well how great, and wondrous fair,
“Vertue in her, whom he ador'd did shine,
“From thence he might to' himself present the Air,
“By Heav'nly Vision, of the Cause Divine,
“As himself sings, and proves this Charge of mine.
“But I'm forgot now, and with me that Dame
“I gave him, to support his Life, and Fame.
Whereat I shriekt, and answer'd, tho in pain:
“Well might he give, who took her soon again.
“Not I, but God, from whom She first did come,
“He smartly turn'd, with him would have her live at Home.

XI

—Then pressing both to th' Bar,
I trembling, clamorous he, and over rude,
Both of us did in one Request conclude:
“Great Queen, we wait what Sentence you will give.
On both she smil'd, but did us both deceive;
“Pleas'd with your Pleadings are we, she reply'd,
“But it requires more time your Difference to decide.

BALLAD.

Prophane Love.

SONNET.

Loves Exaltation.

Enlarge Thy flight, Love, said I, and on high
Raise my dull Soul, those Beauties to admire,
Which in the Heav'nly Treasuries do lie,
And Mortal Brests with holy Flame inspire!
Shew me the Spring of that Celestial Fire,
Design'd our Earthy Dross to purifie,
But after which in vain below we' enquire,
Who sit down ith' warm Sun of a fair Eye!
So up he rais'd me, but no Tongue can tell,
What I in Rapturous Vision did behold:
My Love I found was Pure, and made me bold:
This only I remember very well,
So high we soar'd, till on an Arch above,
I saw inscrib'd, SACRED TO HEAVENLY LOVE.

ODE.

The Thoughts.

I.

Full of strange Thoughts, and pensive as I go,
A tenderness, which to my self I owe,
So strongly does my Mind assail,
And so insensibly prevail,
That all in Tears I flow,
But for my own misfortune now,
And not anothers Cruelty, as I was wont to do.
For seeing every Day my end draw nigh,
A thousand times of God I've begg'd those Wings,
With which from this lewd World, and Mortal things,
Th' unpinion'd Soul to Heav'n does flie;
And beg still, but he does the Grace deny.
And tho I Sigh, and Grieve, and Pray,
That Happiness does countermand;
But reason 'tis, that he, who will not upright stand,
When 'tis in his own Power, or wilfully must stray,
Low as the Earth should lie, and never find his way.
I see, 'tis true, th' Eternal Arms extended wide,
But my own Fear, and others Fate,
Who have deferr'd till 'twas too late,
Make me tremble at my present state.
Another Tyran too beside,
Whom oft to throw, in vain I oft have try'd,
Furiously spurs me on. (Ah!) Whither will he ride?

II.

But, (Lo!) what thoughts my mind assault,
And how to it thus One roundly says;
“Why, foolish Thing, why these delays?
“What lookt-for Succour causes such an Alt?
“Seest thou not how the winged Minutes pass,
“And add more Years to thy Disgrace,
“And yet thy help as far to seek, as e're it was?
“Take, rather take thy last Farewel,
“And do it quickly; every Root destroy
“Of fruitless Pleasure, which couldst thou enjoy
“In its Perfection, for it thou must sell
“Thy Soul, and Liberty, and in an hurry dwell.
“But since thou ne're canst that expect,
“And in the toilsome quest art tir'd,
“Of what's so much admired,
“Yet which the glozing World, when it does thee neglect,
“May to an He as ill deserving give,
“Why as fixt here dost thou live,
“And midst rude Wars, and giddy Vanity,
“Hope for Peace and Constancy?
“Now while thou mayst dare to be Wise!
“In thine own hand keep fast the Rein!
“And since thou must begin again,
“Stop, and turn back, the Road behind thee lies.
“Tis hazardous thou knowst too long to stay,
“And till to Morrow leave, what's better done to Day.

III.

“Long since Thou hast been taught, nor art thou now
“To learn, what Happiness, and Content,
“From the fairest Eyes are sent
“To 'n Heart, that does the Charms of Beauty know.
“But what think'st Thou both had been,
“What Thy Content, and Happiness,
“The greater Glory, and the less,
“If those fair Eyes had ne're been seen,
“And in their stead another Flame had entred in?
“Thou well remembrest, (and 'tis well thou dost)
“How their Image seiz'd thee first,
“And thy Heart like Lightning pierc'd,
“Where it was so much Lord of all the Coast,
“So fatally did overcome,
“That none for other Loves it left, scarce for it self had room.
“With that thou first wert set on fire,
“And if its wild fallacious heat,
“Has held thee many Years with vain desire,
“And expectation of what ne're was yet,
“Nor e're may come, (that joyful Day
“Which should thy Mise'ries end, and largely for thy waiting pay,)
“For none so silily themselves undo
“As Lovers, and so thanklesly if Poets too.)
“Why dost thou not to a better hope thy Soul advance,
“And Heav'ns Immortal Glories view?
“For if one Smile, one pleasing Glance,
“A Song dear purchas'd, one kind word or two,
“The price of Love can here enhance,
“What will those Heavenly Beauties do;
“And how great must the Pleasure be above,
“Where they do ever Sing, and where they ever Love!

IV.

On tother side, a different thought,
With a sharp, but pleasing pain,
Of Hope and Fear together wrought,
Makes me love it, but complain.
For while with Hope it feeds my Heart,
And profers Fame to crown desert,
The Fear I can despise, and dare the cruel smart.
Insensible it almost renders me,
Of all but its dear self insensible,
The effects of Study I ne're feel
How hot or cold, how pale so e're I be;
Nor will one Death to kill 't suffice,
One Death to end its Tyrannies,
Since throughly slain, it does with greater vigor only rise.
When but a Child, as a Child with me it plaid,
Just like my self, and as I grew encreast;
Nor will 't I fear permit me any rest,
Till in one Tomb we be together laid.
Dead with my Body, there 'twill lie,
Nor any further with me go;
And then what signifies this Fame, if I
Its best Report can never know?
Since there must once a parting be,
And away the Shade will flee
For the true substance I'll leave it, e're that leave me.

V.

But (Oh!) that Passion like my Soul,
Which in each part is all, and all ith' whole,
And as a great, and spreading Root,
To' it self the moisture draws, and starves the Ground about,
How does it Vex, and Torture me,
When I my Pride, and Folly see,
My Ignorance, and Vanity,
Of others writing still, so mindless of my self to be!
Those Eyes I mean, whose heavy Chain,
My captive Will does so restrain,
That Art and Force to break it I employ in vain.
What then, tho my spread Sails are fill'd,
And that prepar'd I for the Voyage am,
If yet my Barque midst Rocks is held,
By two such Cables, Love, and Fame?
But Thou, my God, who from those other Bands,
With which the sottish World's held fast,
Long since my freedom Ransom'd hast;
Why hear not these Thy great Commands,
And loose the Pris'ner, who with shame confounded stands?
Abasht I stand, and like a Man at Night,
Assaulted in his Dreams, with Deaths grim sight,
Fain would resist, but want both words to speak, and Arms to fight.

VI.

I well enough know what I ought to do,
Nor does the Ignorance of what is true,
At all deceive me; but this Love,
With which so mise'rably I am opprest,
Tho all his, and my 'own Follies I reprove,
Too much, and much too long of me possest,
Permits me not one step to move,
And the true Honours shiny Path intend above.
Yet now and then there does begin,
Something, I know not what, to strive within;
A cruel and severe Disdain,
Thus for ever to remain,
And where of all it may be read again,
This secret thought writes in my Forehead plain.
“What can more unmorthy be,
“The Man, who does to th' fairest Prize aspire,
“Than towards Mortal things to be on fire,
“With the same Flame that only fits the Deity?
Nor does it thus alone, but crys aloud
To my Reason, drawn aside,
And behind my Senses hid;
Reason obeys, and strait condemns what it allowd.
But as I'm thinking back to go,
Custome does, or make me stay,
Or leads me to some other way;
I gaze, and that does show
The brightest Eyes, e're shon below,
But born alass for my incurable Disease,
For too much me, too much their cruel selves they please

VII.

How long, or short the space may be,
Which when into this World I first came down,
By Heav'ns Arrest was granted me,
To undergo Wars misery,
And all those pains, which from my self have grown,
I know as little, as I do the Time,
When this wretched Life shall end;
For both are Mysteries too sublime,
And Mortal knowledg far transcend.
But this I know, and daily find,
That all without, and all within
My Body 's chang'd, and so 's my Mind.
Gray Hairs appear, nor is th' End far behind
When to approach these Harbingers begin.
Like a Man therefore, who much Ground and Day has lost
But wiser made at length by his cost.
I'm thinking oft to take the Right Hand way,
Where I see my Journey lay,
And which when first I left, I first began to stray:
But Grief and Shame to have truanted so long,
Hold my one half, Pleasure does t'other seize,
Pleasure through Custome grown so strong,
That it with Death dare stand on terms for War or Peace.

Comiato.

SONG, thou seest me as I am,
And me more than thou Petrarch sawst of old,
With an Heart than Ice more cold,
Ne're to be thaw'd I fear by any Flame,
But that which in 'its embrace the Universe shall hold.
Yet (Lo!) I am resolv'd again,
Once more the great Experiment to try,
Tho ne're liv'd Man in so much pain,
With Death, or in his Heart, or Eye.
But this my Trouble does renew,
That what I would, I cannot do,
And what I hate and would not, that I vigorously pursue.

SONNET.

Convertimento á Dio.

Tir'd, and almost or'ecome with th' heavy weight,
Of my old Sins, by Custome grown so strong,
I'm fearful, lest Lifes way being rough and long,
I from it turn, by my own, or Foes deceit.
I have a Friend 'tis true, that from Heav'ns height,
Came down to free me, and redress my Wrong,
Of love he came, but quickly 'amidst the throng
I lost him, whose return in vain I wait;
Upwards he flew, and flying thus did cry,
“Burd'ned and weary Souls, behold your Way
“Hither, come hither to me, and find Rest!
What Grace, what Love, my Lord, what Destiny,
Will give me a Doves wings, on which I may
Mount from this Earth, and be of Heav'n possest?

SONNET, To the same Purpose.

Since you and I, my Friend, so oft have prov'd,
How false our Hopes, and full of Vanity,
To that best Good at length thy Heart apply,
Which still the more 'tis known, the more 'tis lov'd!
The present Life's a Field, till thus improv'd,
In which midst Flowers an hidden Snake does lie,
And tho its Verdure please the wanton Eye,
Death from th' unwary Foot 's not far remov'd.
Would you then have a Mind at last secure,
And endless Joys, in which thou mayst persever,
Follow the Few, to them thy Steps inure,
And all thou canst to leave the most endeavour!
Brother, you teach well, but yourself first sure,
Who oft have stray'd, yet more of late than ever.

SONNET.

To the now Mrs. M. W. under the feigned Name of Iärma, with the Parable of the Pilgrim.

A tedious Age, I like this Pilgrim spent,
In search of that fair Place, where Heav'n design'd,
I should an end of all my Travels find;
But still I stray'd the more, the more I went,
I stray'd till Clelia in a Vision sent
Illustrious Rays, diffus'd o're all my Mind,
And made me see the Way lay far behind,
Whose entrance was my Wandrings to Repent,
She told me what Companions I should take,
How Resolution and Humility,
And Faith and Charity I should provide,
If I a prosperous Journey hope'd to make.
But where dear Clelia do these Graces lie?
Iärma has them all, make her your Guide.

SONNET.

To the Reverend Mr. J. G.

To GOD, it is, my Friend, and you I owe,
What I have been the twenty Years that last,
In various Changes o're my Head have past,
And forty more, if Heav'n shall on me throw;
How good so e're I by that time may grow,
(For Great I wish not, and who makes less haste?)
To your account shall be at th' Audit plac'd,
Who Virtues Path by few trod, made me know,
And timely did my wandring Youth reclaim,
By Grave Advice, tho not so reckoned then,
(The more my Folly) how e're it has been since;
But when the Spirit Divine to blow begins,
What Boys we scorn'd, we follow close grown Men,
And the kind Warner have in greatest Fame.

SONNET.

On the Picture of our LORD, represented on the Cross as Dead.

Something there was, Great Master, more than chance
That Thou the Pencils Wonders to express,
And therein Thy more wonderous Hands address,
Tookst my Dead Lord, the Colours to advance.
Pity directed Thee that Choice to make,
And (having in Thy Pious Brest design'd,
To shew how rude the Jews, Thy Self how kind)
His Pale and Lifeless Form resolve to take,
'Twas nobly done; for hadst Thou made him breathe,
Ever in Torment he had seem'd to live,
And from Thy Hands a greater Wound receive.
Than all their Cruelty contriv'd in his Death,
For such Thy Picture is, now he enclines his Head,
That he would Groan, and Speak, but that he's Dead.

St. Paul done by Titian.

A Madrigal.

Dead to the World, and far from Heav'n remov'd,
Long'd for by him so much, and so much lov'd
The blessed Paul, while here,
Did really as Dead appear,
But in Thy Colours, Titian, looks so warm and clear:
So Mortifi'd, and yet so full of Life,
That the most curious need not be at strife,
But confidently swear,
If they could both together see,
The true with this design'd by Thee:
(Such breathing Strokes do from Thy Pencil fall)
Live Paul's the Draught, Thy Draught the living Paul.

SONNET.

The Vanity of thinking to get Fame by Riming.

What dost Thou, Man, what thinkst Thou, to what end
Of old Bards emulous, and their ancient Praise,
In Riming spendst Thou all Thy Strength and Days,
Nor ever what's of more concern intend?
Fame which Thou courtest never did commend
Of true Desert, or if she does, delays
Till 'it be too late; no Monument does raise
But to along since dead, or dying Friend.
And Thou, if Thou desir'st that Friend to be,
What art the better for it in the Grave,
Thither Thy Fame will never follow Thee,
Nor with the Dead shalt Thou more Honour have
For Verse, than if Thou Verse hadst never known,
The Living will not, Dead can give Thee none.

SONNET.

To give o're Riming, and fall to Business.

As I one Day did of my Fate complain,
And to Loves Charge the great Occasion laid,
Recounting all the Ways I had assay'd
A Name, or Fortune in the World to gain,
And still to' obtain it strive, but all in vain.
Ah! sottish Wretch, with Rage and Scorn, he said,
Me with Thy Artless Follies to upbraid,
When Thou alone art cause of all Thy Pain.
Go, and to Business, Man Thy self present,
Business, the noblest Mistress tho 'it be late,
Who many Servants has, and more will take,
Riming and Modesty ne're got Estate,
Or Name, or Fortune, 'tis the Confident
And Busie carry' all.—Love I did mistake.

ODE.

To the Right Reverend Father in God JOHN, late Lord Bishop of Chester, upon his Promotion thither.

L'Envoy.

At Chester, Song, Thou wilt behold
The Wonders, which Thou here hast told;
But let not all Thy Time be spent,
In a search too inquisitive;
Find out the Rev'rend Father there, to whom thou'rt sent,
And humbly at his Knees receive
That Blessing, which return'd thou mayst thy Master give!
So shalt Thou into Credit grow,
And have from him that Honour, Verse on others must bestow

To the Honourable Sir JOHN DENHAM, upon his New Version of the Psalms.

ODE.

To Mr. Isaac Walton, Publishing the Life of Mr. George Herbert.

L'Envoy.

To Wotton too, my Song,
A kind remembrance Thou dost owe,
With my Friends Name, who made Thee know
This great Triumvirate of Verse; but long
Too long, I fear, Thou then wouldst be,
If not o're-born, with th' mighty subjects Dignity.

ODE.

To the same Mr. Is. Wa. upon the Publication of the Reverend Mr. Richard Hooker's Life.

Retornata.

To Chelsey, Song, and tell thy Masters Friend,
The Church is Hooker's Debtor, Hooker his;
And strange 'twould be, if he should Glory miss,
For whom two such most powerfully contend.
Bid him chear up, the Day 's his own,
And he can never Die,
Who after Seventy 's past and gone,
Can all th' assaults of Age defie;
Is Master still of so much Youthful heat,
A Child so perfect, and so spirit'ous to beget.

The Metamorphosis

CLELIA [chang'd into] A BAIE.

Down in a Vale, between two shady Groves,
Whose Trees in sighs bewail'd their distant Loves,
And o're a Stream, which gently glid below;
Stretcht their long Arms, and leafy Heads did bow,
As if each others Necks they would embrace,
And murmuring chid the interrupting space;
Sylvius the wretched Shepherd chose to lay,
Clelias remains, and his own Vows to pay.
The Tomb nor Marble was, nor glitterant Brass,
No weighty Pile, but Bank of Turfy Grass,
Which he himself cast up, and all around,
With Winter Roses strewd the sacred Ground.
Close by a mournful Tablet hung, whose Verse
Was thus engrav'd—

L'Envoy.

Poor Pastoral, for simple Shepherd fit,
Without or much of Art contriv'd, or Wit;
Do as Thou mayst, the Curious City flie;
Or if Thou thither chance to come,
Conceal'd as the' Ashes, which Thou herriest lie,
For whose dear sake alone, Thou dost thy Fortune try;
Tho, like thy Master, Thou might'st safer be at Home.

ODE.

To Posthumus.

To Belisa.

The Excellent Mrs. Mary Beal, upon her own Picture, done by her Self, like Pallas, but without any Arms, except Head-piece and Corselet.

Such would the Learned Pallas chuse to be,
With all the Charms of Nature and of Art,
Tho she had neither Shield nor Dart:
For if the mighty Pallas were like Thee,
Without those, she to Conquer, need but come, and see.
But here (alas!) the Goddess nothing can espy,
Except the Garb to own her Figure by;
The Warlike Dress, and that 's so Gay,
Such Terror, and such Softness does display,
That that as little as the Face she seems to know;
Wishing that her own Greece had drawn her so:
Says Fabulous Antiquity;
Ne're gave her half that Grace or Majesty:
That she was never half so Fair,
In her own Beauties, or what'ere they feign'd,
With such clear Limbs, or with so great a Mind,
As in your Draught, Belisa, she's design'd:
And were she to be Born again,
Would from your Hand desire it rather than Joves Brain.

To Clelia.

On his own Picture done in Water-Colours, by the Learned Poet and Limner, Mr. Thomas Flatman, Fellow-Student with him, and Chamber-Fellow at the Inner Temple.

Proof against Time, and Age,
And Fortunes Batteries, and Wars out-rage;
Able to Triumph o're the' Affright
Of an Eternal Night,
Of maigre Sickness, and the rotting Grave,
When no Embalments else can save,
But in themselves their own Consumption have.
When Tombs and Epitaphs shall die,
And in an heap as undistinguisht lie
From the dry Bones, and Dust,
Committed to their trust,
In hopes of Immortality,
As if they were themselves a Portion of the Rust;
This Shadow, Clelia, shall preserve intire
Those Reliques incorrupted, and unmixt;
The very Air, and Fire,
The active Youth your presence did inspire,
And that bright Image of your Self it on me fixt.
And tho one common Urn may possibly contain,
(Tho not dispairing of return again)
My Ashes, and a thousand more,
Of such as shall be, or have gone before,
Here's that will almost give Eternity,
And next his Verse, who made the Draught ne're let me die.

SOLITUDE.

The Voyage.

ODE.

Comiato.

Song, that thou shouldst of all be understood,
I little hope, and less design;
Tho few there be who wish thy Masters good,
And know him, but they something will divine:
That Verse so early he began,
Scarce will the Poet die before the Man.
And that the boasts he makes of Bays,
(The most that almost any of the Trade e're got,
And happy he if this be his Lot)
Is the thin Diet of an Airy Praise,
On which he, like his Brethren, lives his Verse to raise.