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TO My most honour'd Aunt, the LADY DORMER.

Madam! the blushes I betray,
When at your feet I humbly lay
These Papers, beg, you would excuse
Th'Obedience of a bashfull Muse,
Who (bowing to your strict command)
Trusts her own Errours to your hand,
Hasty Abortives, which (layd by)
She meant, ere they were born 'should dye:
But since the soft power of your Breath
Hath call'd them back againe from Death,
To your sharp Iudgement now made known,
She dares for Hers no longer own;
The worst She must not, these resign'd
She hath to th' fire, and where you find
Those your kind Charity admir'd,
She writ but what your Eyes inspir'd.
Madam, Your Ladyships Greatest Admirer, and most humble Servant, Tho. Stanley.

TO His much esteemed Kinsman, THOMAS STANLEY Esq. On his Ingenious POEMS, and Translations out of Greek, Latin, French, Jtalian, and Spanish.

If what we know be made our selves (for by
Devesting all materiality,
And melting the bare species into
Our Intellect, our selves are what we know)
Thou art in largnesse of thy knowing mind
As a Seraphick essence unconfin'd.
Content within these narrow walls to dwell,
Yet canst so far that point of flesh out-swell
That thine Intelligence extends through all
Languages, that we Europæan call.
What Colossæan strides do'st thou enlarg!
One foot fixt in Sequanas watry barge,
Do'st in Po to ther lave, teaching each Swan
A note more dying then their Idiome can.
Next Tagus Nymphs receive of thee new dresses,
Composing in Thames glasse their golden Tresses.
Yea more, I've seen thy young Muse bath her wing
In the deep waters of Stagira's Spring.

So that to Plato's universall soul
Thou Tetrarch art, and Europ do'st controwle.
Nor do thy Beames warme by reflex alone;
Those that emerge directly from the Sun
Of thy rich Phant'sy, warme our loves as well
As those whom other languages repell:
Thou the divine Acts thus do'st imitate,
As well conserve an Author, as create.
On then brave Youth, Learnings full System, go
Enlarg thy selfe to a vast Folio;
That the World in suspence where to bestow
That Admiration which it late did owe
To the larg knowing Belgick Magazine,

[H. Grot.]
May justly pay it Thee as his Assigne.
If future houres with laden thighes shall strive
To fill as well thy Intellectuall hive
As those are past, the Court of Honour must
To crown thee, ravish Garlands from his dust.

Another. To his deare Kinsman Thomas Stanley Esquire; On his Ingenious POEMS, that he would likewise manifest his more Serious Labours.

Thou natures step here treadest in,
Do'st show us but thy Soules fair skin.
What Phancy more then Intellect did spin.

Thus Nature shewes, the Roses paint,
Doth us but with the Shrine acquaint,
Not the reserv'd soul of the mistick Saint.
Thy Sayles, All see swelling with hast,
Yet the hid Ballast steeres as fast
His steady course as the apparent Mast.
For though carv'd works only appeare,
We understand a Pilaster
Doth them together with the fabrick beare.
And that thy lightning Intellect,
Though in the Clouds yet undetect,
Can Natures bowels peirce with its Aspect.
Melting through stubborn doubts his way,
Whilst Phancy guilds things with her Ray,
And but oth' surface doth of Nature play.
Thus whilst thy Intellect doth wear
Thy Phant'sys dresse, his motions are
In Epicycles, not his proper sphere.
Together let this double signe
Distinctly in their own Orbs shine,
Castor alone, bodes danger to the Pine.
Wil. Hammond.

To his Noble freind Thomas Stanley Esquire; upon his admired POEMS.

Beauty , the first refulgent Beame
That from th' eternall Sun did streame,
In thy diviner bosome places
Her selfe and all her brighter Graces.
To thee Celestiall Love resignes
His Agat shaft, in polisht lines
Commands thee, with thy point of light,
All her admir'd perfections write.
This Prototype then in thy mind,
To thy faire Mistresses confin'd,
Thou courtest with harmonious layes,
One orient Sun in various rayes;
Doris, Celinda, Chariesse,
So many mirrors to expresse
The sweet reflex of that divine
Idea in thy breast doth shine;
So that no coy ambitious Dames
May here imagine earthly flames;
Thou not the Roses of their cheek
But th' inward Saint in them do'st seek.
For these mysterious lines afford
A heavenly rapture in each word;

Emperiall Cherubims do sing
In thy quaint songs, thy sonnets bring
All the glorious Saints of blisse
With dove-like innocence to kisse;
And we that read, thy Poems stile,
In amorous toyes, heavens serious smile;
That now our ravisht soules dare say,
These high conceptions to display,
The flaming Seraphins inspire
Thy sprightly Muse with Lyrick fire.
Or else thy selfe we must conceive
An Angell which his Orbe does leave,
To dwell with mortals here below,
And teach us what we faine would know,
The harmony and beauty which
His Star-embelisht spheare enrich.
Will. Fairfax.

To his honoured freind Thomas Stanley Esq. On his unimitable Poems.

The Stagirite, who Poesy defines
An imitation, had he read thy lines,
And thy rich Fancy known, he would have then
Recall'd that learned error of his Pen,
And have confest in his convicted state,

Nought those could equall, this would imitate,
Which from no under suppliment doth spring,
Nor any stand, but its own height, take wing.
And but that we should seeme so to misprize
The Influence of Chariessa's eyes,
We should not think Love did these Flames inspire,
Rather that thou taught'st Love this noble Fire;
And by a generous way thy Hopes t'improve,
Shewd'st her, before thou didst how thou could'st love;
And the old common method did'st invert,
First mad'st her Mistresse of thy Braine, then Heart.
Some Phancye, growth may from their subjects take,
Thine does not subjects find, but subjects make.
Whose numerous straynes, we vainly strive to praise,
'Lesse we could ours high as thy Phancy raise;
Larg praise, we might give some with small expence
Of Wit, cry Excellent! how praise Excellence?
The Painters fate is ours: his hand may grace
Or take a bad, scarce hit a beauteous face.
Nor can our Art a fitting value sit
Vpon thy noble Courtesie of Wit,
Which to so many tongues doth lend that store
Of pleasing sweetnesse, which they lack'd before.
Th' Iberian, Roman, and the fluent Greek,
The nimble French, and the smooth Thuscan seek
For severall Graces from thy Pen alone,
Which that affords to all these tongues, in one.
Whose forraign wealth transferr'd, improv'd by thine,
Doth with a fair increase of luster shine;
Like Gems new set upon some richer foyle,
Or Roses planted in a better soyle.

If 'bove all Lawrells then thy merit rise,
What can this sprig (which while 'tis offer'd dyes)
Adde to the Wreath which does adorn thy Browes?
No Bayes will suit with that but thy own Boughes.
Edvv. Sherbvrne.

To his honoured freind Thomas Stanley Esquire, upon his Elegant POEMS.

A palsie shakes my pen, while J intend
A votive to thy Muse; since to commend
With my best skill, will be as short of thee,
As thou above all future Poësie.
Thou early miracle of Wit and Art,
That hast prodigiously so got the start
Of Ages in thy study, Time must be
Old once agen in overtaking thee.
I know not where I am, when I peruse
Thy learned loves, how willingly J loose
Myselfe in every grove, and wish to be
(Might it contribute to thy wreath) a Tree.
Carew, whose numerous language did before
Steer every geniall soul, must be no more
The Oracle of Love, and might he come
But from his own to thy Elizium,
He would repent his immortality
Given by loose Id laters, and dye
A Tenant to these shades, and by thy ray
He need not blush to court his Cælia.
Thy numbers carry height, yet clear, and terse,

And innocent, as becomes the soul of Verse:
Poets from hence may add to their great name,
And learn to strike from Chastity a flame.
But J expect some murmuring Critick here
Should say, no Poëms ever did appeare
Without some fault, this J must grant a truth,
And Sir, let me deale plainly with your youth,
Not error-proof yet, something may admit
A censure, if you will secure your wit,
I Know the only way to bring't about,
Accept my love, and leave this coppy out.
Iames Shirley.

To my honoured Noble freind THOMAS STANLEY Esq. On his Poems.

Who would commend thee (friend!) and thinks 't may be
Performed by a faint Hyperbole
Might also call thee but a man, or dare
To praise thy Mistris with the tearm of faire,
But I, the choicest of whose knowledge is
My knowing thee, cannot so grossely misse.
Since thou art set so high, no words can give
An equall character, but negative.
Substract the earth, and basenesse of this age,
Admit no wildfire in Poetick rage,
Cast out of learning whatsoever's vain,
Let ignorance no more haunt Noblemen,
Nor humour Travellers, let wits be free
From over-weening, and the rest is thee.

Thee noble soul! whose early flights are far
Sublimer then old Eagles soarings are,
Who light'st Love's dying Torch with purer fire,
And breath'st new life into to the Tejan Lyre,
That Love's best Secretaries that are past,
Liv'd they, might learn to love, and yet be chast,
Nay, Vestalls might as well such sonnets hear,
As keep their Vowes, and thy Black Ribband wear;
So chast is all, that though in each line lye.
More Amoretto's then in Doris eye;
Yet so they're charm'd, that look'd upon they prove
Harmlesse as Chariessa's nightly love.
So powerfull is that tongue, that hand, that can
Make soft Ionicks turn grave Lydian;
How oft this heavy leaden Saturnine
And never elevated soul of mine,
Hath been pluck'd up by thee! and forc'd away,
Enlarged from her still adhering clay!
How every line still pleas'd, when that was o're
I canceld it, and prais'd the other more!
That if thou writ'st but on, my thoughts shall be
Almost engulf'd in an infinity.
But dearest friend, what lawes power ever gave
To make ones own free first-born child his slave,
Nay Manumise it, for what else wil't be
To strangle, but deny it libertie.
Once lend the World a day of thine, and fright
The trembling children of the sullen night.
That at the last we undeceiv'd may see
Theirs were but Fancies, thine is Poetry.
Sweet Swan of silver Thames! but only shee
Sings not till death, thou in thy infancy.
I. Hall.

Upon Oronta.

Flames rescued fair Oronta from the power
Of an insulting Thracian Conquerour,
The fame of which brave action Preti's Rime
Freed from the greater Tyranny of Time;
Yet in that freedome shee lesse gloryes, then
In being thus made Captive by thy Pen.
Edw. Sherburne.

[Farr brighter now in thy Poetick fire]

Farr brighter now in thy Poetick fire
Oronta seemes then in her fatall Pyre;
For there her beauty lost, her vertue shines,
But thy admir'd expression both combines;
And Cyprus, whose best gloryes here are seen,
Is prouder of her Virgin then her Queen.
Will. Fairfax.
1

POEMS

2

The Blush.

So faire Aurora doth her selfe discover,
Asham'd o'th' aged bed of her cold lover,
In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light
Betrayes ber early shame to the worlds sight;
Such a bright colour doth the morning rose
Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose
Half drownd in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear
Of night doth like a dissolv'd pearl appear;
Yet 'twere in vain a colour out to seek
To parallel my Chariessa's cheek;
Lesse are conferr'd with greater, and these seem
To blush like her, not she to blush like them:
But whence (fair soul) this passion? what pretence
Had guilt to stain thy spotlesse innocence?
Those only this feel who have guilty bin,
Not any blushes know, but who knows sin:
Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame
That knows no cause, know no effects of shame.

To Chariessa, beholding her self in a Glasse.

Cast Chariessa, cast that glasse away,
Nor in its crystall face, thine own survey;
3

What can be free from loves imperious laws
When painted shadowes real flames can cause?
The fires may burn thee from this Mirrour rise,
By the reflected beams of thine own eyes;
And thus at last fall'n with thy self in love,
Thou wilt my Rivall, thine own Martyr prove;
But if thou dost desire thy form to view,
Look in my heart, where love thy picture drew,
And then if pleas'd with thine own shape thou be,
Learn how to love thy selfe in loving me.
4

The Picture.

Thou that both feel'st and dost admire,
The flames shot from a painted fire,
Know Celia's image thou dost see,
Not to her self more like is she:
He that should both together view
Would judge both pictures, or both true,
But thus they differ, the best part,
Of Nature this is, that of Art.
5

Imitatio Catulliana.

Number the sands that do restrain
And fetter the Rebellious main:
Count those pale fires that do dispence
To us both light and influence:
The drops of the vast sea divide,
These in themselves be multiplied,
That all when added into one,
May by our kisses be out-gone,
By which when number they surmount,
Wee'l teach Arithmetick to count.

The cold kisse.

Such icie kisses Anchorites that live
Secluded from the world to dead sculls give;
And those cold Maids on whom Love never spent
His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,
To their expiring Fathers such bequeath,
Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath.
The timorous Priest doth with such fear and nice
Devotion, touch the holy sacrifice.
6

Fie Chariessa, whence so changd of late,
As to become in love a reprobate,
Quit, quit this dulnesse, fairest, and make known
A flame unto me equall with mine owne.
Shake of this frost for shame that dwells upon
Thy lips, or if it will not so be gone
Let's once more joyn our lips, and thou shalt see,
That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.
7

Opinion.

Whence took the Diamond worth? the borrowed rayes
That Chrystall wears, whence had they fitst their praise?
8

Why should rude feet contemne the snows chast white,
Which from the sunne receives a sparkling light,
Brighter then Diamons farre, and by its birth
Decks the green garment of the richer earth?
Rivers then Chrystall clearer, when to ice
Congeal'd, why do weak judgments so despise?
Which melting shew that to impartiall sight
Weeping then smiling Chrystall is more bright.
But phancy those first priz'd, and these did scorne:
Taking their praise the other to adorn:
Thus blind is humane sight: Opinion gave
To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave.
Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispence
Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.
9

The Magnet.

Ask the Empresse of the night
How the hand which guides her sphear,
Constant in unconstant light,
Taught the waves her yoke to bear,
And did thus by loving force
Curb or tame the rude seas course.
Ask the female Palme how shee
First did woe her husbands love;
And the Magnet, ask how he
Doth th' obsequious iron move;
Waters, plants, and stones know this,
That they love, not what love is.
Be not then lesse kind then these,
Or from love exempt alone,
Let us twine like amorous trees,
And like rivers melt in one;
Or if thou more cruell prove,
Learne of steel and stones to love.
10

The Idolater.

Think not pale lover he who dies
Burt in the flames of Celia's eyes
Is unto love a sacrifice.
Or by the merit of this pain
Thou shalt the crown of Martyrs gain,
Those hopes are as thy passion, vain.
11

For when by death from these flames free
To greater thou condemn'd shalt be,
And punish'd for Idolatrie;
Since thou (loves votary before
Whilst he was kind) dost him no more,
But in his shrine, disdain adore.
Nor will this fire (the Gods prepare
To punish scorn,) that cruell fair
(Though now from flames exempted) spare.
But as together both shall die,
Both burnt alike in flames shall lie,
She in thy breast, thou in her eye.
12

Palinode.

Beauty, thy harsh imerious chains
As a scorn'd weight I here untie,
Since thy proud Empire those disdains,
Of reason or Philosophy,
That would'st within tyrannick laws
Confine the power of each free cause.
Forc'd by the potent influence
Of thy disdain I back return,
Thus with those flames I do dispense,
Which though they would not light, did burn;
And rather will through cold expire
Then languish at a frozen fire.
But whil'st I the insulting pride
Of thy vain beauty do despise,
Who gladly would'st be deifide,
May love thy heart, which to his charm,
Approch'd seem'd cold, at distance warm.
13

On a Violet in her breast.

See how this Violet which before
Hung sullenly her drooping head,
As angry at the ground that bore
The purple treasure which she spread,
Doth smilingly erected grow,
Transplanted to those hills of snow.
And whilest the pillows of thy breast
Do her reclining head sustain,
She swells with pride to be so blest,
And doth all other flowers disdain,
Yet weeps that dew which kist her last,
To see her odours so surpast.
Poor flower! how far deceiv'd thou wert,
To think the riches of the morn,
Or all the sweets she can impart
Could these or sweeten or adorn,
Since thou from them do'st borrow scent,
And they to thee lend ornament.
20

Song.

[Foolish Lover, go and seek]

Foolish Lover, go and seek
For the damask of the Rose,
And the Lilies white dispose
To adorn thy mistresse cheek.
Steal some star out of the sky,
Rob the Phœnix, and the East
Of her wealthy sweets devest
To enrich her breath or eye.
We thy borrow'd pride despise,
For this wine (to which we are
Votaries) is richer farre
Then her cheek, or breath, or eyes.
And should that coy Fair one view
These diviner beauties, she
In this flame would rivall thee,
And be taught to love thee too.
Come then break thy wanton chain,
That when this brisk wine hath spred
On thy paler cheek a red,
Thou like us maist love disdain.
Love, thy power must yield to wine;
And whilst thus our selves we arm,
Boldly we defie thy charm,
For these flames extinguish thine.
32

The Parting.

I go Dear Saint away,
Snatch'd from thy arms
By farre lesse pleasing charms,
Then those I did obay;
But when hereafter thou shalt know
That grief hath slain me, come
And on my Tombe
Drop, drop a tear or two;
Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep,
And I shall smile in death to see thee weep.
Thy tears may have the power
To reinspire
My ashes with new fire,
Or change me to some flower,
Which planted 'twixt thy breasts shall grow:
Vail'd in this shape, I will
Dwell with thee still,
Court, kisse, enjoy thee too:
Securely wee'l contemne all envious force,
And thus united be by deaths divorce.
37

The Dreame.

That I might ever dream thus! that some power
To my eternall sleep would joyn this houre!
So willingly deceiv'd, I might possesse
In seeming joyes a reall happinesse;
Hast not away, Oh do not dissipate
A pleasure thou so lately didst create;
Stay, welcome sleepe, be ever here confin'd,
Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.
48

Despaire.

No, no poore blasted Hope!
Since I (with thee) have lost the scope
Of all my joyes, I will no more
Vainely implore
The unrelenting Destinies:
He that can equally sustain
The strong assaults of Joy or Pain,
May safely laugh at their Decrees.
Despaire, to thee I bow,
Whose constancy disdains t'allow
Those childish passions that destroy
Our fickle Joy;
How cruell Fates so e're appeare,
Their harmelesse anger I despise,
And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise,
Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.

Expectation.

Chide, chide no more away
The fleeting daughters of the day,
Nor with impatient thoughts out-run
The lasie Sun,
Or think the houres do move too slow;
Delay is kind,
And we too soon shall find
That which we seek, yet fear to know.
39

The mystick dark decrees
Unfold not of the Destinies,
Nor boldly seek to antedate
The laws of Fate,
Thy anxious search awhile forbeare,
Suppresse thy haste,
And know that Time at last
Will crowne thy hope, or fix thy fear.
42

Counsell.

When deceitfull lovers lay
At thy feet their suppliant hearts,
And their snares spread to betray
Thy best treasure with their arts,
Credit not their flatt'ring vows
Love such perjurie allowes.
When they with the choicest wealth
Nature boasts of have possest thee,
When with flowers (their verses stealth)
Stars, or jewels they invest thee,
Trust not to their borrow'd store,
Tis but lent to make thee poore.
43

When with Poems they invade thee,
Sing thy prayses or disdain,
When they weep and would perswade thee
That their flames beget that rain;
Let thy breast no baits let in,
Mercy's onely here a sin.
Let no teares or offerings move thee,
All those cunning charmes avoid,
For that wealth for which they love thee,
They would slight if once enjoy'd;
Who would keep anothers heart,
With her own must never part.
45

Expostulation with Love in Despaire.

Love, with what strange tyrannick lawes must they
Comply, which are subjected to thy sway?
How far all justice thy commands decline,
Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoyne?
Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain
A double torture of despaire and pain?
46

It't not enough vainly to hope and wooe,
That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?
It were some Joy Ixion-like to fold
The empty aire, or feed on hopes as cold;
But if thou to my passion this deny,
Thou may'st be starv'd to death as well as I.
For how can thy pale sickly flame burne cleare
When death and cold despaire inhabit neere?
Rule in my brest alone, or thence retire;
Dissolve this frost or let that quench thy fire;
Or let me not desire, or else possesse;
Neither, or both are equall happinesse.
48

Song.

[Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care]

Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care
To seek t'ensnare
A heart so poore as mine:
Some fooles there be
Hate libertie,
Whom with more ease thou maist confine.
Alas! when with much charge thou hast
Brought it at last
Beneath thy power to bow,
It will adore
Some twenty more,
And that, perhaps, you'l not allow.
No, Cloris, I no more will prove
The curse of love,
And now can boast a heart
Hath learn'd of thee
Inconstancie,
And cozen'd Women of their art.
50

FINIS.

TRANSLATIONS.

1

A PARAPHRASE UPON Psalm CXLVIII. And Part of Psalm CXXXIX.

Out of French.

3

A PARAPHRASE UPON Psalme CXLVIII.

Laudate Dominum.

Angeli.

You blessed spirits that bestow,
For every good or bad intent
Throughout our Universe below,
Either reward, or punishment;
You that instruct th' industrious sphears
(You schollars) in a harmony
Which doth as far exceed the eares
Of man, as they transcend the eye.
Teach them to praise the power to whom all sue,
By the same lesson that they learne of you.
4

Sol.

Thou universall Paint, whose light
Alone all beauty doth dispose,
Who on the Lilly spreadst the white,
And the Carnation on the Rose:
Great Painter of this solid frame,
Whose luminous pencils guild the earth
And water; to whose radiant flame
All shape and colour ow their birth.
In a new Hymne the worlds great Author praise,
Of which thou drawst the picture by thy raies.

Luna.

Thou that amidst the darkest night
Dost entertaine a lesser day,
Expecting till the King of light
Drive the obscurer shades away;
Bright Regent of one halfe oth' yeare,
Whose secret influence doth cause
The Oceans flux, which learnes to beare
The weight of thy uncertaine lawes.
Praise him who gives thy weaknesse strength to guide
By hidden power, the Seas obsequious Tide.

Stellæ.

Roses of gold on azure sowne,
You sparkling Jewels of the night,
Who silently encamp unknown,
Your squadrons in their Tents of light;
5

Whom the Militia of the Sky
In severall factions doth bestow,
To kindle war, which spreading, flies
Throughout our lesser world below.
Praise him by whom you shall at last be thrown
To earth, and forc'd to lay your bright arms down.

Lumen.

Soul of the Sun, and life of sight,
That dost the'namild heav'ns adorn,
Thouh sensibly, yet subtly bright,
Smile of the early rising morn;
Whose soft impression farre all art
Exceeds, or strongest violence;
Esteem'd of a corporeal part
An incorporeal effluence.
Praise him to whom thou dost thy being ow,
And from whose light, thy fountain, thou dost slow.

Cæli cælorum.

Great Palace of the Empiree,
Of which the spheares are the foundation,
The walls of glasse, a fluid sea,
Eternity thy long duration:
Which with harmonious aires dost ring,
Compos'd by thy most sacred quire,
Whose life is musick, and to sing,
The only beeing they desire.
Praise him, and if, spirits can vanquisht be
By Bodies, let those Angells yeild to thee.
6

Aquæ super cælos.

Waters that by mysterious skill
Are plac'd above this arch of pleasure,
Whose carefull concave doth not spill
One drop of this their liquid treasure;
Conservatory beyond art,
Waves which above your bridge do flow,
And to your Neighbour flames impart
No cold, nor from them heat do know;
In his just praise, with all his workes conspire,
Whose power can water reconcile to fire.

Dracones.

Dragons who natures souldiers are,
Furnish'd as soon as borne, with armes,
Whose martiall industry our care
Resists, and counterchecks your harmes,
Fear'd monsters both of earth and aire,
Dwelling in either element,
Who such a deadly poyson beare,
As but it selfe nought can prevent.
That great Physitian praise, who doth reveale
An art, which teacheth the disease to heale.

Abyssi.

You dark Albysses of the Maine,
VVhose soundlesse depths the fuell hide,
That earth doth in her womb retaine,
Mixt with the waves in yours reside,
7

VVho treacherously the wealth devoure,
VVhich fooles commit unto your care,
And in whose cavernes, made by power
Of winds, your dead waves buried are.
Praise that profounder skill, which by strong chaines,
You in the prison of your selves restraines.

Ignis.

Fire, which above the aire hast seat,
And dost both light, and lightnesse wear;
So plac'd, as if thy subtle heat
Did purify pale Cinthia's spheare:
Thou sea, whose bright waves ebbe and flow,
Swift as the spheares by which they move,
Whilst the small fires that dwell below,
Direct their flames to you above.
Praise his diviner power, who plac'd your throne
Of light so neare the glory of his owne.

Grando.

Vnwelcome Tempests, that destroy
The hopefull treasure of the yeare,
And often ravish, or destroy
The Virgin pride our flowers do weare,
Who first as messengers, conveigh
The just displeasure of the skies,
Then melting into teares, away,
Weep for the crimes which you chastize.
Praise that great God, who can the Tempest vaile
Of his displeasure, in a Storme of haile.
8

Nix.

VVooll, which Celestiall art hath made,
And knit into one ornament,
And like rich Tapistry displaid
Upon the smoother plaines extent;
Ivory, whose hardnesse, unknown skill
Doth render tractable as silk;
A floud, whose solid streames distill
From melted pearles, or frozen milk.
Praise that diviner power, who of so light
A vapour, hath a body made so bright.

Glacies.

Thou childe of water, whose brow wears
The image of our vanitie,
And melting back again in tears,
Thy mother is new born of thee:
Thou Chrystall signet that dost seal
The folds which on the waves do ly,
And rivers as away they steal,
Dost stop, and with cold fetters ty.
That Chimist praise, who doth all tempers mix,
And can the fluid state of water fix.

Spiritus procellarum.

You mutinous causes of those wars
That wrinckle the smooth face oth' deep,
Greedy, or curious passengers
Betraying to eternall sleep:
9

Sighs, which the winds to those bequeath,
Are tost upon these watry graves;
You, who by power of your rough breath,
Levell the earth, and plough the waves.
Praise him who doth your forces disunite,
The God of peace, who forceth you to fight

Montes & Colles.

You Mountaines, whose proud heads defy
The fury of the troubled aire,
Whose Bases still unshaken ly,
Nor winds can move, nor stormes impaire:
And lesser hills, whose smooth tops yield
Pastimes to swaines, who there resort,
Striving in beauty with the field,
Where wanton flocks both feed and sport.
Joyn in this hymne, that his great power may be
Prays'd equally, in inequalitie.

Ligna fructifera Cedri.

Pleasant and fertile trees that bear,
What may both sight and taste invite,
And with the riches of the year,
All sences equally delight,
Exalt your humble tops, and joyne
With the proud Cedars in this praise,
To celebrate that power divine,
Who from the earth you both did raise.
That in this pious strife, both win the field,
Cedars to shrubs, shrubs may to Cedars yield.
10

Bestiæ Pecora.

Beasts, who your humble being owe
To a materiall forme alone,
Whose hidden natures neither know
Reason, nor are to reason knowne;
You that are circumscrib'd by lawes,
Ty'd to the fetters of your sence,
And rank'd beneath the freer cause,
That can with those dull chaines dispence.
In a new hymne, praise those diviner powers,
And act mens parts, who act so often yours.

Serpentes.

Serpents, who can the shapes you weare
Into a living Lab'rinth wind,
Retiring to dark dwellings, where
None but your selves the way can finde:
Who by the poyson you distilld
Into your first fore-fathers brest
The soules of our whole species killd,
And did of innocence devest.
Praise him who can your subtle curles unwinde,
And your deserted mansions track and finde.

Volucres.

You winged Choristers, that dwell
In woods, and there maintain a Quire,
Whose musick doth all art excell;
Nor can we æ'm'late, but admire,
11

You living galleys of the aire,
That through the strongest tempest slide,
And by your wanton flight, who dare
The fury of the winds divide.
Praise him, and in this harmony and love,
Let your soft Quire contend with that above.

Reges & Populi.

Kings, whose just power the heavens dispence,
Not by lesse power to be contrould,
Praise that celestiall influence,
Which of your glories is the mould;
And you who seated are below,
Taught even by nature to obey,
His praise in your obedience shew,
To their divinely ordered sway;
And as his name shall celebrated be,
Let high and low, compose one harmonie.

Judices.

Your Oracles of heavens decrees,
Who by the curb, and scourge of law,
Which to your trust committed lies,
Keep the inferiour world in awe,
Who with impartiall justice weigh
The crime and punishment of vice,
And by an unresisted sway,
Reward the good, the bad chastize.
Praise that great Judge, to whom all knees must bow,
And him that duty pay, which we to you.
12

Juvenes.

You buds of humane nature, who,
By the progression of your years
Disclose those glories, which in you
(By your great Master hid) appears;
You the first copies of mankinde,
To whom that hand's exacter art
By which you were at first design'd
Doth still new light and shade impart.
Praise that great power, who the mysterious wayes
Of Nature thus from day to day displayes.

Virgines.

You happy Virgins, that retaine
The image of divinitie,
And carefully preserve from staine
That sacred first impression free:
You who the easy breasts inflame,
Of all that subject are to sence,
And do a double pureness claime,
Of beauty, and of innocence.
Praise that great Deity, whom all implore,
And those bright glories we in you adore.
13

Senex.

Old men, whose weak decaying frame,
The spoils and ruines are of time,
Whose neere-expiring lease he claims,
And will ere long be due to him:
You drooping swans by age dyde white,
Bowd with its weight; who shortly must
To a new dwelling take your flight,
Resolv'd into forgotten dust.
Praise that great God, who gave, and takes your breath,
And like true swans, go singing to your death.
14

A PARAPHRASE UPON Part of the CXXXIX Psalm.

1

Great Monarch, whose feard hands the thunder fling,
And whose quick eyes, all darknesse vanquishing,
Pierce in a moment earths remotest parts,
The night of futures, and abysse of hearts;
My breast, the closest thoughts which there reside,
From thy alseeing knowledge cannot hide;
The number of my steps before thee lies,
And my intents (ere mine) before thy eyes.
Thou knowest me, when my selfe I cannot know,
And without errour seest what is not so.
15

2

Speech, that light garment, which our thoughts attires,
The image of our wishes and desires,
Daughter of aire, from soule to soule which flies,
And in her mothers bosome melting dies:
By higher flight appeares before thee long,
Before she birth receiveth from my tongue,
Before she from my lips had learnt to frame
Those accents, which my heart did first enflame,
And this invisible body flying hence,
Assumes, by which she is betraid to sence.

3

The past and future still with thee abide,
The present, which from us like streames doth slide,
With a firme constant foot before thee staies,
To thee nought young is, nought opprest with daies;
Man (as if that bright fire thine eye reflects,
Consum'd of mortall objects the defects,
And chang'd the changing lawes of his fraile breath)
A heap of scattered dust, a masse of earth,
A work almost below mortalitie,
Immortall in thy knowledge is like thee.
16

4

But if thy angers dreadful storm break forth
The Orient, or the West, the South, or North,
Can no profound Abysse or Azile lend,
Whose depth may hide, or strength my life defend;
Though swifter then the morning I could fly,
Thy thunder, which that speed doth far outvy,
Out stripping me, my flight would soon restrain:
Though I could dive into th' unsounded Main,
Which nightly quencheth the bright light oth' skies,
I should lye open to thy brighter eyes.

5

Yet I not wonder, if unvaild thou finde
The darkest secrets of my naked minde;
As a learned Artist thou maist well foresee,
The motions of that work is fram'd by thee:
Thou first into this dust a soul didst send,
Thy hand my skin did ore my bones extend,
Which greater Masterpiece, whilst I admire,
I fall down lost, in seeking to rise higher:
And finding bove my self, my self to be,
Turne to that nothing, from whence rais'd by thee.

On S. John Baptist.

Marino

As the youthful morning's light,
Chasing the dark shades of night,
By its blushes doth betray,
The approaching of the day:
So this star doth forerun
The day of our salvation;
Dy'd in's purple blood, doth rise,
And the sun appearing, dies.
FINIS.
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