Men-Miracles :: :: University of Virginia Library

Though Bookes, and Titles seldome freinds appeare,
Yet both embrace and twist their Graces here,
That while We guide our Greifes and Teares fall right.
Our Sorrow wailes the Scholar with the Knight.
One that had searcht the Kingdome's depth, and saw
All since it fledg'd, and while it yet lay Raw.
One that had trackt the State, and set all downe
That pass'd since the first Mitre, and the Crowne.
Saxon Decrees, and their first Laws he brings,
As he had sate in Councell with their Kings.
Not one who only skill'd in Forraigne Names,
Knowes Tybers windings, but is lost in Thames.
Whose Laboures rove,, who in a wilde pursuite
Knowes Romulus well, but stands amaz'd at Brute.
He knew he could not King and Country please,
Had he bin only learn'd beyond the Seas.
He forraigne Countries knew, but they were knowne
Not for themselves, but to advance his owne.
As Merchants trade ith' Indies, not live there,
Traffique abroad, but land their Prizes here.
He from whose Art our owne Church Rites arise,
Could Roman paint or Atticke Sacrifice:

114

And with like ease his Pensill had exprest
An Ancient Abbat, or Apollo's Preist,
But then he knew his Sweat imparted so
Had done Greece justice, but let England go,
And after all his paines had only drest
A Forraigne Subject in a Native's breast.
The care was wiser here, he would not come
Lavish abroad, and be in debt at home:
His Sweat was for his Country most, the cleare
Starre gave all Light, but most adorn'd its Spheare.
As Gemms at Distance seene some Clouds t'expell,
But cast all Day and Sunshine in their Shell.

But as He trac't the Church, and did unty
Each linke, to search her Geneolagie.
So He Defends her too, makes his care be
Her Preservation, as Nativity,
Knowing this might his Zeale in question call,
To finde her out, only to let her fall.
And better 'tis that offspring never rose.
Whose Beauty only doth looke faire, and close
But he repaires her falls, she owes more farre
To his wise Pen, then to the Rocke, or Quar.

Chuse then the Temple where thy dust shall fall,
Content with one, that hast preserved all.
We thanke thee that our Churches stand, that We
In one Roofe lodge not with our Deity.

115

That Parlars are not Temples, that we spare
A Place to sever our Discourse from Prayer.
That not th' Oxe Crown'd and Cook'd on one board lyes.
That 'tis not one to Carve and Sacrifice.
But had this fail'd, had this not seem'd so fine,
Had no Cathedrall Chamber bin our Shrine,
Then we had met ith' Woods, and some faire Hill
Kept Israëls Groves, and her high Places still.
Birds had beene there, and Beasts, the Preist had then
Preach't 'gainst the Sparrowes, and the Lustfull Men.
Wolfes and Oppressors mixt, the place had lent
Pasture for Lambs, and seates for th' Innocent.
No such confusion now, now no rash Arme
Dares seize the Chappel to enlarge the Farme.
Left his offence his Issues Plague beget,
As th' poyson'd Spring infects the Rivulet.

We not enquire thy Death, nor our time spend
To know if Gout or Palsie wrought thy end:
We see thy Workes, and thy Disease know lesse
By the Physitians Bils, then by the Presse.
Thus tir'd Arachne in her Labours lyes,
Weaves out her Life into her Loome, and dyes.