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University of Virginia Library

Poetical works (1908)

Fletcher, Phineas (1582-1650)

I.

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II.

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THE PURPLE ISLAND, OR THE ISLE OF MAN: TOGETHER WITH PISCATORIE ECLOGS AND OTHER POETICALL MISCELLANIES.

COMMENDATORY VERSES ON THE EXCELLENT MORALL POEM, ENTITULED THE ISLE OF MAN.

TO THE LEARNED AUTHOUR, SONNE AND BROTHER TO two judicious Poets, himself the third, not second to either.

TO THE INGENIOUS COMPOSER OF THIS PASTORALL, THE Spencer of this age.

TO THE UNKNOWN Mr P. F. UPON SURVAY of his ISLE OF MAN.

ON THE MOST ACCURATE POEM, INSCRIBED THE PURPLE ISLAND.

[Mans Bodie's like a house: his greater bones]

THE PURPLE ISLAND, OR THE ISLE OF MAN.

ΑΛΙΕΥΤΙΚΟ'Ν, OR, PISCATORIE ECLOGUES.

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POETICALL MISCELLANIES.

An Hymen at the Marriage of my most deare Cousins Mr. W. and M. R.

To my beloved Cousin W. R. Esquire.

To Master W. C.

To my ever honoured Cousin W. R. Esquire.

To E. C. in Cambridge, my sonne by the University.

To my beloved Thenot in answer of his verse.

Upon the picture of Achmat the Turkish tyrant.

To Mr. Jo. Tomkins.

Against a rich man despising povertie.

On womens lightnesse.

A reply upon the fair M. S.

An Apologie for the premises to the Ladie Culpepper.

To my onely chosen Valentine and wife,

A translation of Boëthius, the third book and last verse.

A translation of Boëthius, book 2 verse 7.

Upon my brother, Mr G. F. his book entituled Christs Victorie and Triumph.

Upon the B. of Exon. Doct. Hall his Meditations.

Upon the Contemplations of the B. of Excester, given to the Ladie E. W. at New-yeares-tide.

These Asclepiads of Mr. H. S. translated and enlarged.

Certain of the royal Prophets Psalmes metaphrased.

AN HYMNE.

On my friends picture, who died in travel.

Upon Doctor Playfer.

Upon my brothers book called, The grounds, labour, and reward of faith.

Upon Mr. Perkins his printed sermons.

ELISA,OR AN ELEGIE UPON THE UNRIPE DECEASE OF St ANTOINE IRBY:

To my deare friend, the Spencer of this age.

VERSES AND TRANSLATIONS IN A FATHER'S TESTAMENT

BRITTAIN'S IDA.

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AN HYMNE.

Drop, drop, slow tears, and bathe those beauteous feet,
Which brought from heav'n the news and Prince of peace:
Cease not, wet eyes, his mercies to intreat;

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To crie for vengeance sinne doth never cease:
In your deep flouds drown all my faults and fears;
Nor let his eye see sinne, but through my tears.