The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley

Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed: And Those which he Design'd for the Press, Now Published out of the Authors Original Copies ... The Text Edited by A. R. Waller

Cowley, Abraham (1618-1667)

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Miscellanies.

THE MOTTO.

Tentanda via est, &c.

What shall I do to be for ever known,
And make the Age to come my own?
I shall like Beasts or Common People dy,
Unless you write my Elegy;
Whilst others Great, by being Born are grown,
Their Mothers Labour, not their own.
In this Scale Gold, in th'other Fame does ly,
The weight of that, mounts this so high.
These men are Fortunes Jewels, moulded bright;
Brought forth with their own fire and light.
If I, her vulgar stone for either look;
Out of my self it must be strook.
Yet I must on; what sound is't strikes mine ear?
Sure I Fames Trumpet hear.
It sounds like the last Trumpet; for it can
Raise up the bur'ied Man.
Unpast Alpes stop me, but I'll cut through all,
And march, the Muses Hannibal.
Hence all the flattering vanities that lay
Nets of Roses in the way.
Hence the desire of Honors, or Estate;
And all, that is not above Fate.

Hence Love himself, that Tyrant of my days,
Which intercepts my coming praise.
Come my best Friends, my Books, and lead me on;
'Tis time that I were gon.
Welcome, great Stagirite, and teach me now
All I was born to know.
Thy Scholars vict'ries thou dost far out-do;
He conquer'd th' Earth, the whole World you.
Welcome learn'd Cicero, whose blest Tongue and Wit
Preserves Romes greatness yet.
Thou art the first of Ora'tors; only he
Who best can praise Thee, next must be.
Welcome the Mantu'an Swan, Virgil the Wise,
Whose verse walks highest, but not flies.
Who brought green Poesie to her perfect Age;
And made that Art which was a Rage.
Tell me, ye mighty Three, what shall I do
To be like one of you.
But you have climb'd the Mountains top, there sit
On the calm flour'ishing head of it,
And whilst with wearied steps we upward go,
See Us, and Clouds below.

ODE.

Of Wit.

1

Tell me, O tell, what kind of thing is Wit,
Thou who Master art of it.
For the First matter loves Variety less;
Less Women love't, either in Love or Dress.
A thousand different shapes it bears,
Comely in thousand shapes appears.
Yonder we saw it plain; and here 'tis now,
Like Spirits in a Place, we know not How.

2

London that vents of false Ware so much store,
In no Ware deceives us more.
For men led by the Colour, and the Shape,
Like Zeuxes Birds fly to the painted Grape;
Some things do through our Judgment pass
As through a Multiplying Glass.
And sometimes, if the Object be too far,
We take a Falling Meteor for a Star.

3

Hence 'tis a Wit that greatest word of Fame
Grows such a common Name.
And Wits by our Creation they become,
Just so, as Tit'lar Bishops made at Rome.
'Tis not a Tale, 'tis not a Jest
Admir'd with Laughter at a feast,
Nor florid Talk which can that Title gain;
The Proofs of Wit for ever must remain.

4

'Tis not to force some lifeless Verses meet
With their five gowty feet.
All ev'ry where, like Mans, must be the Soul,
And Reason the Inferior Powers controul.
Such were the Numbers which could call
The Stones into the Theban wall.
Such Miracles are ceast; and now we see
No Towns or Houses rais'd by Poetrie.

5

Yet 'tis not to adorn, and gild each part;
That shows more Cost, then Art.
Jewels at Nose and Lips but ill appear;
Rather then all things Wit, let none be there.
Several Lights will not be seen,
If there be nothing else between.
Men doubt, because they stand so thick i' th' skie,
If those be Stars which paint the Galaxie.

6

'Tis not when two like words make up one noise;
Jests for Dutch Men, and English Boys.
In which who finds out Wit, the same may see
In An'grams and Acrostiques Poetrie.
Much less can that have any place
At which a Virgin hides her face,
Such Dross the Fire must purge away; 'tis just
The Author blush, there where the Reader must.

7

'Tis not such Lines as almost crack the Stage
When Bajazet begins to rage.
Nor a tall Meta'phor in the Bombast way,
Nor the dry chips of short lung'd Seneca.
Nor upon all things to obtrude,
And force some odd Similitude.
What is it then, which like the Power Divine
We only can by Negatives define?

8

In a true piece of Wit all things must be,
Yet all things there agree.
As in the Ark, joyn'd without force or strife,
All Creatures dwelt; all Creatures that had Life.
Or as the Primitive Forms of all
(If we compare great things with small)
Which without Discord or Confusion lie,
In that strange Mirror of the Deitie.

9

But Love that moulds One Man up out of Two,
Makes me forget and injure you.
I took you for my self sure when I thought
That you in any thing were to be Taught.
Correct my error with thy Pen;
And if any ask me then,
What thing right Wit, and height of Genius is,
I'll onely shew your Lines, and say, 'Tis This.

To the Lord Falkland. For his safe Return from the Northern Expedition against the SCOTS.

Great is thy Charge, O North; be wise and just,
England commits her Falkland to thy trust;
Return him safe: Learning would rather choose
Her Bodley, or her Vatican to loose.
All things that are but writ or printed there,
In his unbounded Breast engraven are.
There all the Sciences together meet,
And every Art does all her Kindred greet,
Yet justle not, nor quarrel; but as well
Agree as in some Common Principle.
So in an Army govern'd right we see
(Though out of several Countrys rais'd it be)
That all their Order and their Place maintain,
The English, Dutch, the Frenchmen and the Dane.
So thousand diverse Species fill the aire,
Yet neither crowd nor mix confus'dly there,
Beasts, Houses, Trees, and Men together lye,
Yet enter undisturb'd into the Eye.

And this great Prince of Knowledge is by Fate
Thrust into th' noise and business of a State,
All Virtues, and some Customs of the Court,
Other mens Labour, are at least his Sport.
Whilst we who can no action undertake,
Whom Idleness it self might Learned make,
Who hear of nothing, and as yet scarce know,
Whether the Scots in England be or no,
Pace dully on, oft tire, and often stay,
Yet see his nimble Pegasus fly away.
'Tis Natures fault who did thus partial grow,
And her Estate of Wit on One bestow.
Whilst we like younger Brothers, get at best
But a small stock, and must work out the rest.
How could he answer't, should the State think fit
To question a Monopoly of Wit?

Such is the Man whom we require the same
We lent the North; untoucht as is his Fame.
He is too good for War, and ought to be
As far from Danger, as from Fear he's free.
Those Men alone (and those are useful too)
Whose Valour is the onely Art they know,
Were for sad War and bloody Battels born;
Let Them the State Defend, and He Adorn.

On the Death of Sir Henry Wootton.

What shall we say, since silent now is He
Who when he Spoke, all things would Silent be?
Who had so many Languages in store,
That onely Fame shall speak of him in More.
Whom England now no more return'd must see.
He's gone to Heav'n on his Fourth Embassie.
On earth he travell'd often; not to say
H'had been abroad, or pass loose Time away.
In whatsoever Land he chanc'd to come,
He read the Men and Manners, bringing home
Their Wisdom, Learning, and their Pietie,
As if he went to Conquer, not to See.
So well he understood the most and best
Of Tongues that Babel sent into the West,
Spoke them so truly, that he had (you'd swear)
Not only Liv'd, but been Born every where.
Justly each Nations Speech to him was known,
Who for the World was made, not us alone.
Nor ought the Language of that Man be less
Who in his Breast had all things to express.
We say that Learning's endless, and blame Fate
For not allowing Life a longer date.
He did the utmost Bounds of Knowledge find,
He found them not so large as was his Mind.
But, like the brave Pellæan Youth, did mone
Because that Art had no more worlds then One.
And when he saw that he through all had past,
He dy'd, lest he should Idle grow at last.

On the Death of Mr. Jordan,

Second Master at Westminster School.

Hence, and make room for me, all you who come
Onely to read the Epitaph on this Tombe.
Here lies the Master of my tender years,
The Guardian of my Parents Hope and Fears,
Whose Government ne'r stood me in a Tear;
All weeping was reserv'd to spend it here.
Come hither all who his rare virtues knew,
And mourn with Me: He was your Tutor too.
Let's joyn our Sighes, till they fly far, and shew
His native Belgia what she's now to do.
The League of grief bids her with us lament;
By her he was brought forth, and hither sent
In payment of all Men we there had lost,
And all the English Blood those wars have cost.
Wisely did Nature this learn'd Man divide;
His Birth was Theirs, his Death the mournful pride
Of England; and t'avoid the envious strife
Of other Lands, all Europe had his Life,
But we in chief; our Countrey soon was grown
A Debter more to Him, then He to'his Own.
He pluckt from youth the follies and the crimes,
And built up Men against the future times,
For deeds of Age are in their Causes then,
And though he taught but Boys, he made the Men.
Hence 'twas a Master in those ancient dayes
When men sought Knowledge first, and by it Praise,
Was a thing full of Reverence, Profit, Fame;
Father it self was but a Second Name.
He scorn'd the profit; his Instructions all
Were like the Science, Free and Liberal.
He deserv'd Honors, but despis'd them too
As much as those who have them, others do.
He knew not that which Complement they call;
Could Flatter none, but Himself least of all.
So true, so faithful, and so just as he,
Was nought on earth, but his own Memorie.

His Memory, where all things written were
As sure and fixt as in Fates Books they are.
Thus he in Arts so vast a treasure gain'd,
Whilst still the Use came in, and Stock remain'd.
And having purchas'd all that man can know,
He labor'd with't to enrich others now.
Did thus a new, and harder task sustain,
Like those that work in Mines for others gain.
He, though more nobly, had much more to do,
To search the Vein, dig, purge, and mint it too.
Though my Excuse would be, I must confess,
Much better had his Diligenc[e] been less.
But if a Muse hereafter smile on me,
And say, Be thou a Poet, men shall see
That none could a more grateful Scholar have;
For what I ow'd his Life, I'll pay his Grave.

On his Majesties Return out of Scotland.

1

Welcome, great Sir, with all the joy that's due
To the return of Peace and You.
Two greatest Blessings which this age can know;
For that to Thee, for Thee to Heav'n we ow.
Others by War their Conquests gain,
You like a God your ends obtain.
Who when rude Chaos for his help did call,
Spoke but the Word, and sweetly Order'd all.

2

This happy Concord in no Blood is writ,
None can grudge heav'n full thanks for it.
No Mothers here lament their Childrens fate,
And like the Peace, but think it comes too late.
No Widows hear the jocond Bells,
And take them for their Husbands Knells.
No Drop of Blood is spilt which might be said
To mark our joyful Holiday with Red.

3

'Twas only Heav'n could work this wondrous thing,
And onely work't by such a King.
Again the Northern Hindes may sing and plow,
And fear no harm but from the weather now.
Again may Tradesmen love their pain
By knowing now for whom they gain.
The Armour now may be hung up to sight,
And onely in their Halls the Children fright.

4

The gain of Civil Wars will not allow
Bay to the Conquerors Brow.
At such a Game what fool would venture in,
Where one must lose, yet neither side can win?
How justly would our Neighbours smile
At these mad quarrels of our Isle
Sweld with proud hopes to snatch the whole away,
Whilst we Bet all, and yet for nothing Play?

5

How was the silver Tine frighted before,
And durst not kiss the armed shore?
His waters ran more swiftly then they use,
And hasted to the Sea to tell the News.
The Sea it self, how rough so ere
Could scarce believe such fury here.
How could the Scots and we be Enemies grown?
That, and its Master Charls had made us One.

6

No Blood so loud as that of Civil War;
It calls for Dangers from afar.
Let's rather go, and seek out Them, and Fame;
Thus our Fore-fathers got, thus left a Name.
All their rich blood was spent with gains,
But that which swells their Childrens Veins.
Why sit we still, our Spir'its wrapt up in Lead?
Not like them whilst they Liv'd, but now they're Dd?

7

This noise at home was but Fates policie
To raise our Spir'its more high.
So a bold Lyon ere he seeks his prey,
Lashes his sides, and roars, and then away.
How would the German Eagle fear,
To see a new Gustavus there?
How would it shake, though as 'twas wont to do
For Jove of old, it now bore Thunder too!

8

Sure there are actions of this height and praise
Destin'd to Charls his days.
What will the Triumphs of his Battels be,
Whose very Peace it self is Victorie?
When Heav'n bestows the best of Kings,
It bids us think of mighty things.
His Valour, Wisdom, Offspring speak no less;
And we the Prophets Sons, write not by Guess.

On the Death of Sir Anthony Vandike,

The famous Painter.

Vandike is Dead; but what Bold Muse shall dare
(Though Poets in that word with Painters share)
T'express her sadness? Po'esie must become
An Art, like Painting here, an Art that's Dumb.
Let's all our solemn grief in silence keep,
Like some sad Picture which he made to weep,
Or those who saw't, for none his works could view
Unmov'd with the same Passions which he drew.
His pieces so with their live Objects strive,
That both or Pictures seem, or both Alive.
Nature her self amaz'd, does doubting stand,
Which is her own, and which the Painters Hand,
And does attempt the like with less success,
When her own work in Twins she would express.

His All-resembling Pencil did out-pass
The mimick Imag'ry of Looking-glass.
Nor was his Life less perfect then his Art,
Nor was his Hand less erring then his Heart.
There was no false, or fading Colour there,
The Figures sweet and well proportion'd were.
Most other men, set next to him in view,
Appear'd more shadows then the Men he drew.
Thus still he liv'd till heav'n did for him call,
Where reverent Luke salutes him first of all:
Where he beholds new sights, divinely faire;
And could almost wish for his Pencil there;
Did he not gladly see how all things shine,
Wondrously painted in the Mind Divine,
Whilst he for ever ravisht with the show
Scorns his own Art which we admire below.

Onely his beauteous Lady still he loves;
(The love of heav'nly Objects Heav'n improves)
He sees bright Angels in pure beams appear,
And thinks on her he left so like them here.
And you, fair Widow, who stay here alive,
Since he so much rejoyces, cease to grieve.
Your joys and griefs were wont the same to be;
Begin not now, blest Pair, to Disagree.
No wonder Death mov'd not his gen'erous mind.
You, and a new born You, he left behind.
Even Fate exprest his love to his dear Wife,
And let him end your Picture with his Life.

Prometheus ill-painted.

How wretched does Promethe'us state appear,
Whilst he his Second Mis'ery suffers here!
Draw him no more, lest as he tortur'd stands,
He blame great Joves less then the Painters hands.
It would the Vulturs cruelty outgoe,
If once again his Liver thus should grow.
Pity him Jove, and his bold Theft allow,
The Flames he once stole from thee grant him now.

ODE.

1

Here's to thee Dick; this whining Love despise;
Pledge me, my Friend, and drink till thou be'st wise.
It sparkles brighter far then she:
'Tis pure, and right without deceit;
And such no woman ere will be:
No; they are all Sophisticate.

2

With all thy servile pains what canst thou win,
But an ill-favor'd, and uncleanly Sin?
A thing so vile, and so short-liv'd,
That Venus Joys as well as she
With reason may be said to be
From the neglected Foam deriv'd.

3

Whom would that painted toy a Beauty move,
Whom would it ere perswade to court and love,
Could he a womans Heart have seen,
(But, oh, no Light does thither come)
And view'd her perfectly within,
When he lay shut up in her womb?

4

Follies they have so numberless in store,
That only he who loves them can have more.
Neither their Sighs nor Tears are true;
Those idlely blow, these idlely fall,
Nothing like to ours at all.
But Sighs and Tears have Sexes too.

5

Here's to thee again; thy senseless sorrows drown'd;
Let the Glass walk, till all things too go round;
Again; till these Two Lights be Four;
No error here can dangerous prove;
Thy Passion, Man, deceiv'd thee more;
None Double see like Men in Love.

Friendship in Absence.

1

When chance or cruel business parts us two,
What do our Souls I wonder do?
Whilst sleep does our dull Bodies tie
Methinks, at home they should not stay,
Content with Dreams, but boldly flie
Abroad, and meet each other half the way.

2

Sure they do meet, enjoy each other there,
And mix I know not How, nor Where.
Their friendly Lights together twine,
Though we perceive't not to be so,
Like loving Stars which oft combine,
Yet not themselves their own Conjunctions know.

3

'Twere an ill World, I'll swear, for every friend,
If Distance could their Union end
But Love it self does far advance
Above the power of Time and Space,
It scorns such outward Circumstance,
His Time's for ever, every where his Place.

4

I'am there with Thee, yet here with Me thou art,
Lodg'd in each others heart.
Miracles cease not yet in Love,
When he his mighty Power will try
Absence it self does Bounteous prove,
And strangely ev'n our Presence Multiply.

5

Pure is the flame of Friendship, and divine
Like that which in Heav'ns Sun does shine:
He in the upper ayr and sky
Does no effects of Heat bestow,
But as his beams the farther fly
He begets Warmth, Life, Beauty here below.

6

Friendship is less apparent when too nigh,
Like Objects, if they touch the Eye.
Less Meritorious then is Love,
For when we Friends together see
So much, so much Both One do prove,
That their Love then seems but Self-love to be.

7

Each day think on me, and each day I shall
For thee make Hours Canonical.
By every Wind that comes this way,
Send me at least a sigh or two,
Such and so many I'll repay
As shall themselves make Winds to get to you.

8

A thousand pretty wayes we'll think upon
To mock our Separation.
Alas, ten thousand will not do;
My heart will thus no longer stay,
No longer 'twill be kept from you,
But knocks against the Breast to get away.

9

And when no Art affords me help or ease,
I seek with verse my griefs t'appease.
Just as a Bird that flies about
And beats it self against the Cage,
Finding at last no passage out
It sits, and sings, and so orecomes its rage.

To the Bishop of Lincoln,

Upon his Enlargement out of the Tower.

Pardon, my Lord, that I am come so late
T'express my joy for your return of Fate.
So when injurious Chance did you deprive
Of Liberty, at first I could not grieve;
My thoughts a while, like you, Imprison'd lay;
Great Joys as well as Sorrows make a Stay;

They hinder one another in the Crowd,
And none are heard, whilst all would speak aloud.
Should every mans officious gladness hast,
And be afraid to shew it self the last;
The throng of Gratulations now would be
Another Loss to you of Libertie.
When of your freedom men the news did hear
Where it was wisht for, that is every where,
'Twas like the Speech which from your Lips does fall,
As soon as it was heard it ravisht all.
So Eloquence Tully did from exile come;
Thus long'd for he return'd, and cherisht Rome,
Which could no more his Tongue and Counsels miss;
Rome, the Worlds head, was nothing without His.
Wrong to those sacred Ashes I should do,
Should I compare any to Him but You;
You to whom Art and Nature did dispence
The Consulship of Wit and Eloquence.
Nor did your fate differ from his at all
Because the doom of Exile was his fall,
For the whole World without a native home
Is nothing but a Pris'on of larger roome.
But like a melting Woman suffer'd He,
He who before out-did Humanitie.
Nor could his Spi'rit constant and stedfast prove,
Whose Art t'had been, and greatest end to Move.
You put ill Fortune in so good a dress
That it out-shone other mens Happiness,
Had your Prosper'ity always clearly gon
As your high Merits would have led it on,
You'had Half been lost, and an Example then
But for the Happy, the least part of men.
Your very sufferings did so graceful shew,
That some straight envy'd your Affliction too.
For a clear Conscience and Heroick Mind
In Ills their Business and their Glory find.
So though less worthy stones are drown'd in night,
The faithful Diamond keeps his native Light,
And is oblig'd to Darkness for a ray
That would be more opprest then helpt by Day.

Your Soul then most shew'd her unconquer'd power,
Was stronger and more armed then the Tower.
Sure unkinde fate will tempt your Spi'rit no more,
Sh'has try'd her Weakness and your Strength before.
To'oppose him still who once has Conquer'd so,
Were now to be your Rebel, not your Foe.
Fortune henceforth will more of Provi'dence have,
And rather be your Friend, then be your Slave.

To a Lady who made Posies for Rings.

1

I little thought the time would ever bee,
That I should Wit in Dwarfish Posies see.
As all Words in Few Letters live,
Thou to few Words all Sense dost give.
'Twas Nature taught you this rare art
In such a Little Much to shew,
Who all the good she did impart
To Womankind Epitomiz'd in you.

2

If as the Ancients did not doubt to sing,
The turning Years be well compar'd to a Ring,
We'll write what ere from you we hear,
For that's the Posie of the Year.
This difference onely will remain,
That Time his former face does shew
Winding into himself again,
But your unweari'd Wit is always New.

3

'Tis said that Conju'rers have an Art found out
To carry Spi'rits confin'd in Rings about.
The wonder now will less appear
When we behold your Magick here.
You by your Rings do Pris'ners take,
And chain them with your mystick Spells,
And the strong Witchcraft full to make,
Love, the great Dev'il, charm'd to those Circles dwells.

4

They who above do various Circles finde,
Say, like a Ring th' Æquator Heav'n does bind.
When Heaven shall be adorn'd by thee
(Which then more Heav'n then 'tis will be)
'Tis thou must write the Posie there,
For it wanteth one as yet,
Though the Sun pass through't twice a year,
The Sun who is esteem'd the God of Wit.

5

Happy the Hands which wear thy sacred Rings,
They'll teach those Hands to write mysterious things.
Let other Rings, with Jewels bright,
Cast around their costly light,
Let them want no noble Stone
By Nature rich, and Art refin'd,
Yet shall thy Rings give place to none,
But onely that which must thy Mariage bind.

Prologue to the Guardian

Before the Prince.

Who says the Times do Learning disallow?
'Tis false; 'twas never Honor'd so as Now.
When you appear, Great Prince, our Night is done;
You are our Morning Star, and shall be'our Sun.
But our Scene's London now; and by the rout
We perish, if the Round-heads be about.
For now no ornament the Head must wear,
No Bays, no Mitre, not so much as Hair.
How can a Play pass safely, when ye know
Cheapside Cross falls for making but a Show?
Our onely Hope is this, that it may be
A Play may pass too, made Extempore.
Though other Arts poor and neglected grow,
They'l admit Po'esie which was always so.

But we contemn the fury of these days,
And scorn no less their Censure then their Praise.
Our Muse, blest Prince, does onely'on you relie;
Would gladly Live, but not refuse to Dye.
Accept our hasty zeal; a thing that's play'd
Ere't is a Play, and Acted ere'tis Made.
Our Ign'orance, but our Duty too we show;
I would all Ignorant People would do so!
At other Times expect our Wit or Art;
This Comedy is Acted by the Heart.

The Epilogue.

The Play, great Sir, is done; yet needs must fear,
Though you brought all your Fathers Mercies here,
It may offend your Highness, and we'have now
Three hours done Treason here for ought we know.
But power your grace can above Nature give,
It can give power to make Abortives Live.
In which if our bold wishes should be crost,
'Tis but the Life of one poor week t'has lost;
Though it should fall beneath your mortal scorn,
Scarce could it Dye more quickly then 'twas Born.

On the Death of Mr. William Hervey.

Immodicis brevis est ætas, & rara Senectus. Mart.

1

It was a dismal, and a fearful night,
Scarce could the Morn drive on th'unwilling Light,
When Sleep, Deaths Image, left my troubled brest,
By something liker Death possest.
My eyes with Tears did uncommanded flow,
And on my Soul hung the dull weight
Of some Intolerable Fate.
What Bell was that? Ah me! Too much I know.

2

My sweet Companion, and my gentle Peere,
Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here,
Thy end for ever, and my Life to moan;
O thou hast left me all alone!
Thy Soul and Body when Deaths Agonie
Besieg'd around thy noble heart,
Did not with more reluctance part
Then I, my dearest Friend, do part from Thee.

3

My dearest Friend, would I had dy'd for thee!
Life and this World henceforth will tedious bee.
Nor shall I know hereafter what to do
If once my Griefs prove tedious too.
Silent and sad I walk about all day,
As sullen Ghosts stalk speechless by
Where their hid Treasures ly;
Alas, my Treasure's gone, why do I stay?

4

He was my Friend, the truest Friend on earth;
A strong and mighty Influence joyn'd our Birth.
Nor did we envy the most sounding Name
By Friendship giv'n of old to Fame.
None but his Brethren he, and Sisters knew,
Whom the kind youth preferr'd to Me;
And ev'n in that we did agree,
For much above my self I lov'd them too.

5

Say, for you saw us, ye immortal Lights,
How oft unweari'd have we spent the Nights?
Till the Ledœan Stars so fam'd for Love,
Wondred at us from above.
We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine;
But search of deep Philosophy,
Wit, Eloquence, and Poetry,
Arts which I lov'd, for they, my Friend, were Thine.

6

Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say,
Have ye not seen us walking every day?
Was there a Tree about which did not know
The Love betwixt us two?
Henceforth, ye gentle Trees, for ever fade;
Or your sad branches thicker joyn,
And into darksome shades combine,
Dark as the Grave wherein my Friend is laid.

7

Henceforth no learned Youths beneath you sing,
Till all the tuneful Birds to'your boughs they bring;
No tuneful Birds play with their wonted chear,
And call the learned Youths to hear,
No whistling Winds through the glad branches fly,
But all with sad solemnitie,
Mute and unmoved be,
Mute as the Grave wherein my Friend does ly.

8

To him my Muse made haste with every strain
Whilst it was new, and warm yet from the Brain.
He lov'd my worthless Rhimes, and like a Friend
Would find out something to commend.
Hence now, my Muse, thou canst not me delight;
Be this my latest verse
With which I now adorn his Herse,
And this my Grief, without thy help shall write.

9

Had I a wreath of Bays about my brow,
I should contemn that flourishing honor now,
Condemn it to the Fire, and joy to hear
It rage and crackle there.
Instead of Bays, crown with sad Cypress me;
Cypress which Tombs does beautifie;
Not Phœbus griev'd so much as I
For him, who first was made that mournful Tree.

10

Large was his Soul; as large a Soul as ere
Submitted to inform a Body here.
High as the Place 'twas shortly'in Heav'n to have,
But low, and humble as his Grave.
So high that all the Virtues there did come
As to their chiefest seat
Conspicuous, and great;
So low that for Me too it made a room.

11

He scorn'd this busie world below, and all
That we, Mistaken Mortals, Pleasure call;
Was fill'd with inn'ocent Gallantry and Truth,
Triumphant ore the sins of Youth.
He like the Stars, to which he now is gone,
That shine with beams like Flame,
Yet burn not with the same,
Had all the Light of Youth, of the Fire none.

12

Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught,
As if for him Knowledge had rather sought.
Nor did more Learning ever crowded lie
In such a short Mortalitie.
When ere the skilful Youth discourst or writ,
Still did the Notions throng
About his eloquent Tongue,
Nor could his Ink flow faster then his Wit.

13

So strong a Wit did Nature to him frame,
As all things but his Judgement overcame;
His Judgement like the heav'nly Moon did show,
Temp'ring that mighty Sea below.
Oh had he liv'd in Learnings World, what bound
Would have been able to controul
His over-powering Soul?
We'have lost in him Arts that not yet are found.

14

His Mirth was the pure Spirits of various Wit,
Yet never did his God or Friends forget.
And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,
Retir'd and gave to them their due.
For the rich help of Books he always took,
Though his own searching mind before
Was so with Notions written ore
As if wise Nature had made that her Book.

15

So many Virtues joyn'd in him, as we
Can scarce pick here and there in Historie.
More then old Writers Practice ere could reach,
As much as they could ever teach.
These did Religion, Queen of Virtues sway,
And all their sacred Motions steare,
Just like the First and Highest Sphere
Which wheels about, and turns all Heav'n one way.

16

With as much Zeal, Devotion, Pietie,
He always Liv'd, as other Saints do Dye.
Still with his soul severe account he kept,
Weeping all Debts out ere he slept.
Then down in peace and innocence he lay,
Like the Suns laborious light,
Which still in Water sets at Night,
Unsullied with his Journey of the Day.

17

Wondrous young Man, why wert thou made so good,
To be snatcht hence ere better understood?
Snatcht before half of thee enough was seen!
Thou Ripe, and yet thy Life but Green!
Nor could thy Friends take their last sad Farewel,
But Danger and Infectious Death
Malitiously seiz'd on that Breath
Where Life, Spirit, Pleasure always us'd to dwell.

18

But happy Thou, ta'ne from this frantick age,
Where Igno'rance and Hypocrisie does rage!
A fitter time for Heav'n no soul ere chose,
The place now onely free from those.
There 'mong the Blest thou dost for ever shine,
And wheresoere thou casts thy view
Upon that white and radiant crew,
See'st not a Soul cloath'd with more Light then Thine.

19

And if the glorious Saints cease not to know
Their wretched Friends who fight with Life below;
Thy Flame to Me does still the same abide,
Onely more pure and rarifi'd.
There whilst immortal Hymns thou dost reherse,
Thou dost with holy pity see
Our dull and earthly Poesie,
Where Grief and Mis'ery can be join'd with Verse.

ODE.

In imitation of Horaces Ode.

Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rosâ Perfusus, &c. Lib. 1. Od. 5.

1

To whom now Pyrrha, art thou kind?
To what heart-ravisht Lover,
Dost thou thy golden locks unbind,
Thy hidden sweets discover,
And with large bounty open set
All the bright stores of thy rich Cabinet?

2

Ah simple Youth, how oft will he
Of thy chang'd Faith complain?
And his own Fortunes find to be
So airy and so vain,
Of so Cameleon-like an hew;
That still their colour changes with it too?

3

How oft, alas, will he admire
The blackness of the Skies?
Trembling to hear the Winds sound higher,
And see the billows rise;
Poor unexperienc'ed He
Who ne're, alas, before had been at Sea!

4

He'enjoyes thy calmy Sun-shine now,
And no breath stirring hears,
In the clear heaven of thy brow,
No smallest Cloud appears.
He sees thee gentle, fair, and gay,
And trusts the faithless April of thy May.

5

Unhappy! thrice unhappy He,
T' whom Thou untry'ed dost shine!
But there's no danger now for Me,
Since o're Loretto's Shrine
In witness of the Shipwrack past
My consecrated Vessel hangs at last.

In imitation of Martials Epigram.

Si tecum mihi chare Martialis, &c. L. 5. Ep. 21.

If, dearest Friend, it my good Fate might be
T' enjoy at once a quiet Life and Thee;
If we for Happiness could leisure find,
And wandring Time into a Method bind,

We should not sure the Great Mens favour need,
Nor on long Hopes, the Courts thin Diet, feed.
We should not Patience find daily to hear,
The Calumnies, and Flatteries spoken there.
We should not the Lords Tables humbly use,
Or talk in Ladies Chambers Love and News;
But Books, and wise Discourse, Gardens and Fields,
And all the joys that unmixt Nature yields.
Thick Summer shades where Winter still does ly,
Bright Winter Fires that Summers part supply.
Sleep not controll'd by Cares, confin'd to Night,
Or bound in any rule but Appetite.
Free, but not savage or ungracious Mirth,
Rich Wines to give it quick and easie birth.
A few Companions, which our selves should chuse,
A Gentle Mistress, and a Gentler Muse.
Such, dearest Friend, such without doubt should be
Our Place, our Business, and our Companie.
Now to Himself, alas, does neither Live,
But sees good Suns, of which we are to give
A strict account, set and march thick away;
Knows a man how to Live, and does he stay?

The Chronicle.

A Ballad.

1

Margarita first possest,
If I remember well, my brest,
Margarita first of all;
But when a while the wanton Maid
With my restless Heart had plaid,
Martha took the flying Ball.

2

Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.
Beauteous Catharine gave place
(Though loth and angry she to part
With the possession of my Heart)
To Elisa's conqu'ering face.

3

Elisa till this Hour might reign
Had she not Evil Counsels ta'ne.
Fundamental Laws she broke,
And still new Favorites she chose,
Till up in Arms my Passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.

4

Mary then and gentle Ann
Both [t]o reign at once began.
Alternately they sway'd,
And sometimes Mary was the Fair,
And sometimes Ann the Crown did wear,
And sometimes Both I' obey'd.

5

Another Mary then arose
And did rigorous Laws impose.
A mighty Tyrant she!
Long, alas, should I have been
Under that Iron-Scepter'd Queen,
Had not Rebecca set me free.

6

When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden Time with me.
But soon those pleasures fled,
For the gracious Princess dy'd
In her Youth and Beauties pride,
And Judith reigned in her sted.

7

One Month, three Days, and half an Hour
Judith held the Soveraign Power.
Wondrous beautiful her Face,
But so weak and small her Wit,
That she to govern was unfit,
And so Susanna took her place.

8

But when Isabella came
Arm'd with a resistless flame
And th' Artillery of her Eye;
Whilst she proudly marcht about
Greater Conquests to find out,
She beat out Susan by the By.

9

But in her place I then obey'd
Black-ey'd Besse, her Viceroy-Maid,
To whom ensu'd a Vacancy.
Thousand worse Passions then possest
The Interregnum of my brest.
Bless me from such an Anarchy!

10

Gentle Henriette than
And a third Mary next began,
Then Jone, and Jane, and Audria.
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Katharine,
And then a long Et cætera.

11

But should I now to you relate,
The strength and riches of their state,
The Powder, Patches, and the Pins,
The Ribbans, Jewels, and the Rings,
The Lace, the Paint, and warlike things
That make up all their Magazins:

12

If I should tell the politick Arts
To take and keep mens hearts,
The Letters, Embassies, and Spies,
The Frowns, and Smiles, and Flatteries,
The Quarrels, Tears, and Perjuries,
Numberless, Nameless Mysteries!

13

And all the Little Lime-twigs laid
By Matchavil the Waiting-Maid;
I more voluminous should grow
(Chiefly if I like them should tell
All Change of Weathers that befell)
Then Holinshead or Stow.

14

But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with Me.
An higher and a nobler strain
My present Emperess does claim,
Heleonora, First o'th' Name;
Whom God grant long to reign!

To Sir William Davenant.

Upon his two first Books of Gondibert, finished before his voyage to America.

Methinks Heroick Poesie till now
Like some fantastick Fairy Land did show,
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches and Gyants race,
And all but Man in Mans chief work had place.
Thou like some worthy Knight with sacred Arms
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms.
Instead of those dost Men and Manners plant,
The things which that rich Soil did chiefly want.
Yet ev'en thy Mortals do their Gods excell,
Taught by thy Muse to Fight and Love so well.

By fatal hands whilst present Empires fall,
Thine from the Grave past Monarchies recall.
So much more thanks from humane kind does merit
The Poets Fury, then the Zelots Spirit.
And from the Grave thou mak'est this Empire rise,
Not like some dreadful Ghost t'affright our Eyes,
But with more Luster and triumphant state,
Then when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.

So will our God rebuild mans perisht frame,
And raise him up much Better, yet the same.
So God-like Poets do past things reherse,
Not change, but Heighten Nature by their Verse.

With shame, methinks, great Italy must see
Her Conqu'erors rais'ed to Life again by Thee.
Rais'd by such pow'erful Verse, that ancient Rome
May blush no less to see her Wit o'recome.
Some men their Fancies like their Faith derive,
And think all Ill but that which Rome does give.
The Marks of Old and Catholick would find,
To the same Chair would Truth and Fiction bind.
Thou in those beaten pathes disdain'st to tred,
And scorn'st to Live by robbing of the Dead.
Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit
This latter Age should see all New but Wit.
Thy Fancy like a Flame its way does make,
And leave bright Tracks for following Pens to take.
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse
Did thy desire to seek new Worlds infuse,
And ne're did Heav'n so much a Voyage bless,
If thou canst Plant but there with like success.

An Answer to a Copy of Verses sent me to Jersey.

As to a Northern People (whom the Sun
Uses just as the Romish Church has done
Her Prophane Laity, and does assign
Bread only both to serve for Bread and Wine)
A rich Canary Fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your Letter gives,
Fraught with brisk racy Verses, in which we
The Soil from whence they came, tast, smell, and see:
Such is your Present to'us; for you must know,
Sir, that Verse does not in this Island grow
No more then Sack; One lately did not fear
(Without the Muses leave) to plant it here.

But it produc'd such base, rough, crabbed, hedge
Rhymes, as ev'en set the hearers Ears on Edge.
Written by ------ Esquire, the
Year of our Lord six hundred thirty three.
Brave Jersey Muse! and he's for this high stile
Call'd to this day the Homer of the Isle.
Alas, to men here no Words less hard be
To Rhime with, then Mount Orgueil is to me.
Mount Orgueil, which in scorn o'th' Muses law
With no yoke-fellow Word will daign to draw.
Stubborn Mount Orgueil! 'tis a work to make it
Come into Rhime, more hard then 'twere to take it.
Alas, to bring your Tropes and Figures here,
Strange as to bring Camels and Ele'phants were.
And Metaphor is so unknown a thing,
'Twould need the Preface of, God save the King.
Yet this I'll say for th' honor of the place,
That by Gods extraordinary Grace
(Which shows the people'have judgment, if not Wit)
The land is undefil'd with Clinches yet.
Which in my poor opinion, I confess,
Is a most sing'ular blessing, and no less
Then Irelands wanting Spiders. And so far
From th' Actual Sin of Bombast too they are,
(That other Crying Sin o'th' English Muse)
That even Satan himself can accuse
None here (no not so much as the Divines)
For th' Motus primò primi to Strong Lines.
Well, since the soil then does not natu'rally bear
Verse, who (a Devil) should import it here?
For that to me would seem as strange a thing
As who did first Wild Beasts into 'Islands bring.
Unless you think that it might taken be
As Green did Gond'ibert, in a Prize at Sea.
But that's a Fortune falls not every day;
'Tis true Green was made by it; for they say
The Parl'ament did a noble bounty do,
And gave him the whole Prize, their Tenths and Fifteens too.

The name of one of the Castles in Jersey.

The Tree of Knowledge.

That there is no Knowledge. Against the Dogmatists.

1

The sacred Tree midst the fair Orchard grew;
The Phœnix Truth did on it rest,
And built his perfum'd Nest.
That right Porphyrian Tree which did true Logick shew,
Each Leaf did learned Notions give,
And th' Apples were Demonstrative.
So clear their Colour and divine,
The very shade they cast did other Lights out-shine.

2

Taste not, said God; 'tis mine and Angels meat;
A certain Death does sit
Like an ill Worm i'th' Core of it.
Ye cannot Know and Live, nor Live or Know and Eat.
Thus spoke God, yet Man did go
Ignorantly on to Know;
Grew so more blind, and she
Who tempted him to this, grew yet more Blind then He.

3

The onely Science Man by this did get,
Was but to know he nothing Knew:
He straight his Nakedness did view,
His ign'orant poor estate, and was asham'd of it.
Yet searches Probabilities,
And Rhetorick, and Fallacies,
And seeks by useless pride
With slight and withering Leaves that Nakedness to hide.

4

Henceforth, said God, the wretched Sons of earth
Shall sweat for Food in vain
That will not long sustain,
And bring with Labor forth each fond Abortive Birth.
That Serpent too, their Pride,
Which aims at things deny'd,
That learn'd and eloquent Lust
Instead of Mounting high, shall creep upon the Dust.

Reason.

The use of it in Divine Matters.

1

Some blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
Be led by others a right way;
They build on Sands, which if unmov'd they find,
'Tis but because there was no Wind.
Less hard 'tis, not to Erre our selves, then know
If our Fore-fathers err'd or no.
When we trust Men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning Men.

2

Visions and Inspirations some expect
Their course here to direct,
Like senseless Chymists their own wealth destroy,
Imaginary Gold t'enjoy.
So Stars appear to drop to us from skie,
And gild the passage as they fly:
But when they fall, and meet th'opposing ground,
What but a sordid Slime is found?

3

Sometimes their Fancies they 'bove Reason set,
And Fast, that they may Dream of meat.
Sometimes ill Spi'rits their sickly souls delude,
And Bastard-Forms obtrude.

So Endors wretched Sorceress, although
She Saul through his disguise did know,
Yet when the Dev'il comes up disguis'd, she cries,
Behold, the Gods arise.

4

In vain, alas, these outward Hopes are try'd;
Reason within's our onely Guide.
Reason, which (God be prais'd!) still Walks, for all
It's old Original Fall.
And since it self the boundless Godhead joyn'd
With a Reasonable Mind,
It plainly shows that Mysteries Divine
May with our Reason joyn.

5

The Holy Book, like the eighth Sphere, does shine
With thousand Lights of Truth Divine.
So numberless the Stars, that to the Eye,
It makes but all one Galaxie.
Yet Reason must assist too, for in Seas
So vast and dangerous as these,
Our course by Stars above we cannot know,
Without the Compass too below.

6

Though Reason cannot through Faiths Myst'eries see,
It sees that There and such they be;
Leads to Heav'ens Door, and there does humbly keep,
And there through Chinks and Key-holes peep.
Though it, like Moses, by a sad command
Must not come in to th' Holy Land,
Yet thither it infallibly does Guid,
And from afar 'tis all Descry'd.

On the Death of Mr. Crashaw.

Poet and Saint! to thee alone are given
The two most sacred Names of Earth and Heaven.
The hard and rarest Union which can be
Next that of Godhead with Humanitie.
Long did the Muses banisht Slaves abide,
And built vain Pyramids to mortal pride;
Like Moses Thou (though Spells and Charms withstand)
Hast brought them nobly home back to their Holy Land.

Ah wretched We, Poets of Earth! but Thou
Wert Living the same Poet which thou'rt Now.
Whilst Angels sing to thee their ayres divine,
And joy in an applause so great as thine.
Equal society with them to hold,
Thou need'st not make new Songs, but say the Old.
And they (kind Spirits!) shall all rejoyce to see
How little less then They, Exalted Man may be.
Still the old Heathen Gods in Numbers dwell,
The Heav'enliest thing on Earth still keeps up Hell.
Nor have we yet quite purg'd the Christian Land;
Still Idols here, like Calves at Bethel stand.
And though Pans Death long since all Oracles broke,
Yet still in Rhyme the Fiend Apollo spoke:
Nay with the worst of Heathen dotage We
(Vain men!) the Monster Woman Deifie;
Find Stars, and tye our Fates there in a Face,
And Paradise in them by whom we lost it, place.
What different faults corrupt our Muses thus?
Wanton as Girles, as old Wives, Fabulous!

Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did contain
The boundless Godhead; she did well disdain
That her eternal Verse employ'd should be
On a less subject then Eternitie;
And for a sacred Mistress scorn'd to take,
But her whom God himself scorn'd not his Spouse to make.
It (in a kind) her Miracle did do;
A fruitful Mother was, and Virgin too.

How well (blest Swan) did Fate contrive thy death;
And made thee render up thy tuneful breath
In thy great Mistress Arms? thou most divine
And richest Off'ering of Loretto's Shrine!
Where like some holy Sacrifice t'expire,
A Fever burns thee, and Love lights the Fire.
Angels (they say) brought the fam'ed Chappel there,
And bore the sacred Load in Triumph through the air.
'Tis surer much they brought thee there, and They,
And Thou, their charge, went singing all the way.

Pardon, my Mother Church, if I consent
That Angels led him when from thee he went,
For even in Error sure no Danger is
When joyn'd with so much Piety as His.
Ah, mighty God, with shame I speak't, and grief,
Ah that our greatest Faults were in Belief!
And our weak Reason were ev'en weaker yet,
Rather then thus our Wills too strong for it.
His Faith perhaps in some nice Tenents might
Be wrong; his Life, I'm sure, was in the right.
And I my self a Catholick will be,
So far at least, great Saint, to Pray to thee.

Hail, Bard Triumphant! and some care bestow
On us, the Poets Militant Below!
Oppos'ed by our old En'emy, adverse Chance,
Attacqu'ed by Envy, and by Ignorance,
Enchain'd by Beauty, tortur'd by Desires,
Expos'd by Tyrant-Love to savage Beasts and Fires.
Thou from low earth in nobler Flames didst rise,
And like Elijah, mount Alive the skies.
Elisha-like (but with a wish much less,
More fit thy Greatness, and my Littleness)
Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove
So humble to Esteem, so Good to Love)
Not that thy Spirit might on me Doubled be,
I ask but Half thy mighty Spirit for Me.
And when my Muse soars with so strong a Wing,
'Twill learn of things Divine, and first of Thee to sing.

M. Crashaw died of a Fever at Loretto, being newly chosen Canon of that Church.

Anacreontiques:

OR, Some Copies of Verses Translated Paraphrastically out of Anacreon.

I. Love.

I'll sing of Heroes, and of Kings;
In mighty Numbers, mighty things,
Begin, my Muse; but lo, the strings
To my great Song rebellious prove;
The strings will sound of nought but Love.
I broke them all, and put on new;
'Tis this or nothing sure will do.
These sure (said I) will me obey;
These sure Heroick Notes will play.
Straight I began with thundring Jove,
And all th'immortal Pow'ers, but Love,
Love smil'd, and from my'enfeebled Lyre
Came gentle airs, such as inspire
Melting love, soft desire.
Farewel then Heroes, farewel Kings,
And mighty Numbers, mighty Things;
Love tunes my Heart just to my strings.

II Drinking.

The thirsty Earth soaks up the Rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again.
The Plants such in the Earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair.
The Sea it self, which one would think
Should have but little need of Drink,
Drinks ten thousand Rivers up,
So fill'd that they or'eflow the Cup.
The busie Sun (and one would guess
By's drunken fiery face no less)
Drinks up the Sea, and when h'as done,
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun.
They dirnk and dance by their own light,
They drink and revel all the night.
Nothing in Nature's Sober found,
But an eternal Health goes round.
Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high,
Fill all the Glasses there, for why
Should every creature drink but I,
Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?

III. Beauty.

Liberal Nature did dispence
To all things Arms for their defence;
And some she arms with sin'ewy force,
And some with swiftness in the course;
Some with hard Hoofs, or forked claws,
And some with Horns, or tusked jaws.

And some with Scales, and some with Wings,
And some with Teeth, and some with Stings.
Wisdom to Man she did afford,
Wisdom for Shield, and Wit for Sword.
What to beauteous Woman-kind,
What Arms, what Armour has she'assigne'd?
Beauty is both; for with the Fair
What Arms, what Armour can compare?
What Steel, what Gold, or Diamond,
More Impassible is found?
And yet what Flame, what Lightning e're
So great an Active force did bear?
They are all weapon, and they dart
Like Porcupines from every part.
Who can, alas their strength express,
Arm'd, when they themselves undress,
Cap-a-pe with Nakedness?

IV. The Duel.

Yes, I will love then, I will love,
I will not now Loves Rebel prove,
Though I was once his Enemy;
Though ill-advis'd and stubborn I,
Did to the Combate him defy,
An Helmet, Spear, and mighty shield,
Like some new Ajax I did wield.
Love in one hand his Bow did take,
In th'other hand a Dart did shake.
But yet in vain the Dart did throw,
In vain he often drew the Bow.
So well my Armour did resist,
So oft by flight the blow I mist.
But when I thought all danger past,
His Quiver empty'd quite at last,

Instead of Arrow, or of Dart,
He shot Himself into my Heart.
The Living and the Killing Arrow
Ran through the skin, the Flesh, the Blood,
And broke the Bones and scorcht the Marrow,
No Trench or Work of Life withstood.
In vain I now the Walls maintain,
I set out Guards and Scouts in vain,
Since th' En'emy does within remain.
In vain a Breastplate now I wear,
Since in my Breast the Foe I bear.
In vain my Feet their swiftness try;
For from the Body can they fly?

V. Age.

Oft am I by the Women told,
Poor Anacreon thou grow'st old.
Look how thy hairs are falling all;
Poor Anacreon how they fall?
Whether I grow old or no,
By th'effects I do not know.
This I know without being told,
'Tis Time to Live if I grow Old,
'Tis time short pleasures now to take,
Of little Life the best to make,
And manage wisely the last stake.

VI. The Account.

When all the Stars are by thee told,
(The endless Sums of heav'nly Gold)
Or when the Hairs are reckon'd all,
From sickly Autumns Head that fall,

Or when the drops that make the Sea,
Whilst all her Sands thy Counters be;
Thou then, and Thou alone maist prove
Th' Arithmetician of my Love.
An hundred Loves at Athens score,
At Corinth write an hundred more.
Fair Corinth does such Beauties bear,
So few is an Escaping there.
Write then at Chios seventy three;
Write then at Lesbos (let me see)
Write me at Lesbos ninety down,
Full ninety Loves, and half a One.
And next to these let me present,
The fair Ionian Regiment.
And next the Carian Company,
Five hundred both Effectively.
Three hundred more at Rhodes and Crete;
Three hundred 'tis I'am sure Complete.
For arms at Crete each Face does bear,
And every Eye's an Archer there.
Go one; this stop why dost thou make?
Thou thinkst, perhaps, that I mistake.
Seems this to thee too great a Summe?
Why many Thousands are to come;
The mighty Xerxes could not boast
Such different Nations in his Host.
On; for my Love, if thou be'st weary,
Must find some better Secretary.
I have not yet my Persian told,
Nor yet my Syrian Loves enroll'd,
Nor Indian, nor Arabian;
Nor Cyprian Loves, nor African;
Nor Scythian, nor Italian flames;
There's a whole Map behind of Names.
Of gentle Love i'th' temperate Zone,
And cold ones in the Frigid One,
Cold frozen Loves with which I pine,
And parched Loves beneath the Line.

VII. Gold.

A Mighty pain to Love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss.
But of all pains the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.
Virtue now nor noble Blood,
Nor Wit by Love is understood,
Gold alone does passion move,
Gold Monopolizes love!
A curse on her, and on the Man
Who this traffick first began!
A curse on him who found the Ore!
A curse on him who digg'd the store!
A curse on him who did refine it!
A curse on him who first did coyn it!
A Curse all curses else above
On him, who us'd it first in Love!
Gold begets in Brethren hate,
Gold in Families debate;
Gold does Friendships separate,
Gold does Civil Wars create.
These the smallest harms of it!
Gold, alas, does Love beget.

VIII. The Epicure.

Fill the Bowl with rosie Wine,
Around our temples Roses twine.
And let us chearfully awhile,
Like the Wine and Roses smile.
Crown'd with Roses we contemn
Gyge's wealthy Diadem.

To day is Ours; what do we fear?
To day is Ours; we have it here.
Let's treat it kindly, that it may
Wish, at least, with us to stay.
Let's banish Business, banish Sorrow;
To the Gods belongs To morrow.

IX. Another.

Underneath this Myrtle shade,
On flowry beds supinely laid,
With od'orous Oyls my head o're-flowing,
And around it Roses growing,
What should I do but drink away
The Heat, and troubles of the Day?
In this more then Kingly state,
Love himself shall on me wait.
Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up;
And mingled cast into the Cup,
Wit, and Mirth, and noble Fires,
Vigorous Health, and gay Desires.
The Wheel of Life no less will stay
In a smooth then Rugged way.
Since it equally does flee,
Let the Motion pleasant be.
Why do we precious Oyntments shower,
Nobler wines why do we pour,
Beauteous Flowers why do we spread,
Upon the Mon'uments of the Dead?
Nothing they but Dust can show,
Or Bones that hasten to be so.
Crown me with Roses whilst I Live,
Now your Wines and Oyntments give.
After Death I nothing crave,
Let me Alive my pleasures have,
All are Stoicks in the Grave.

X. The Grashopper.

Happy Insect, what can be
In happiness compar'd to Thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy Mornings gentle Wine!
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant Cup does fill,
'Tis fill'd where ever thou dost tread,
Nature selfe's thy Ganimed.
Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing;
Happier then the happiest King!
All the Fields which thou dost see,
All the Plants belong to Thee,
All that Summer Hours produce,
Fertile made with early juice.
Man for thee does sow and plow;
Farmer He, and Land-Lord Thou!
Thou does innocently joy;
Nor does thy Luxury destroy;
The Shepherd gladly heareth thee,
More Harmonious then He.
Thee Country Hindes with gladness hear,
Prophet of the ripened year!
Thee Phœbus loves, and does inspire;
Phœbus is himself thy Sire.
To thee of all things upon earth,
Life is no longer then thy Mirth.
Happy Insect, happy Thou,
Dost neither Age, nor Winter know.
But when thou'st drunk, and danc'd, and sung,
Thy fill, the flowry Leaves among
(Voluptuous, and Wise with all,
Epicuræan Animal!)
Sated with thy Summer Feast,
Thou retir'est to endless Rest.

XI. The Swallow.

Foolish Prater, what do'st thou
So early at my window do
With thy tuneless Serenade?
Well t'had been had Tereus made
Thee as Dumb as Philomel;
There his Knife had done but well.
In thy undiscover'ed Nest
Thou dost all the winter rest,
And dreamest o're thy summer joys
Free from the stormy seasons noise:
Free from th'Ill thou'st done to me;
Who disturbs, or seeks out Thee?
Had'st thou all the charming notes
Of the woods Poetick Throats,
All thy art could never pay
What thou'st ta'ne from me away;
Cruel Bird, thou'st ta'ne away
A Dream out of my arms to day,
A Dream that ne're must equall'd be
By all that waking Eyes may see.
Thou this damage to repair,
Nothing half so sweet or fair,
Nothing half so good can'st bring,
Though men say, Thou bring'st the Spring.

ELEGIE UPON ANACREON,

Who was choaked by a Grape-Stone.

[_]

Spoken by the God of Love.

How shall I lament thine end,
My best Servant, and my Friend?
Nay and, if from a Deity
So much Deifi'ed as I,
It sound not too profane and odd,
Oh my Master, and my God!
For 'tis true, most mighty Poet,
(Though I like not Men should know it)
I am in naked Nature less,
Less by much then in thy Dress.
All thy Verse is softer far
Then the downy Feathers are,
Of my Wings, or of my Arrows,
Of my Mothers Doves, or Sparrows.
Sweet as Lovers freshest kisses,
Or their riper following blisses,
Graceful, cleanly, smooth and round,
All with Venus Girdle bound,
And thy Life was all the while
Kind and gentle as thy Stile.

The smooth-pac'd Hours of ev'ery day
Glided numerously away.
Like thy Verse each Hour did pass,
Sweet and short, like that it was.

Some do but their Youth allow me,
Just what they by Nature owe me,
The time that's mine, and not their own,
The certain Tribute of my Crown,
When thy grow old, they grow to be
Too Busie, or too wise for me.
Thou wert wiser, and did'st know
None too wise for Love can grow,
Love was with thy Life entwin'd
Close as Heat with Fire is joyn'd,
A powerful Brand prescrib'd the date
Of thine, like Meleagers Fate.
Th' Antiperistasis of Age
More enflam'd thy amorous rage,
Thy silver Hairs yielded me more
Then even golden curls before.

Had I the power of Creation,
As I have of Generation,
Where I the matter must obey,
And cannot work Plate out of Clay,
My Creatures should be all like Thee,
'Tis Thou shouldst their Idæa be.
They, like Thee, should throughly hate
Bus'iness, Honor, Title, State.
Other wealth thy should not know
But what my Living Mines bestow;
The pomp of Kings they should confess
At their Crownings to be less
Then a Lovers humblest guise,
When at his Mistress feet he lies.
Rumour they no more should mind
Then Men safe-landed do the Wind,
Wisdom it self they should not hear
When it presumes to be Severe.
Beauty alone they should admire;
Nor look at Fortunes vain attire,

Nor ask what Parents it can shew;
With Dead or Old t'has nought to do.
They should not love yet All, or Any,
But very Much, and very Many.
All their Life should gilded be
With Mirth, and Wit, and Gayety,
Well remembring, and Applying
The Necessity of Dying.
Their chearful Heads should always wear
All that crowns the flowry year.
They should always laugh, and sing,
And dance, and strike th'harmonious string.
Verse should from their Tongue so flow,
As if it in the Mouth did grow,
As swiftly answering their command,
As tunes obey the artful Hand.
And whilst I do thus discover
Th'ingredients of a happy Lover,
'Tis, my Anacreon, for thy sake
I of the Grape no mention make.

Till my' Anacreon by thee fell,
Cursed Plant, I lov'd thee well.
And 'twas oft my wanton use
To dip my Arrows in thy juice.
Cursed Plant, 'tis true I see,
Th'old report that goes of Thee,
That with Gyants blood the Earth
Stain'd and poys'ned gave thee birth,
And now thou wreak'st thy ancient spight
On Men in whom the Gods delight.
Thy Patron Bacchus, 'tis no wonder,
Was brought forth in Flames and Thunder,
In rage, in quarrels, and in fights,
Worse then his Tygers he delights;
In all our heaven I think there be
No such ill-natur'd God as He.
Thou pretendest, Trayt'erous Wine,
To be the Muses friend and Mine.
With Love and Wit thou dost begin,
False Fires, alas, to draw us in.

Which, if our course we by them keep,
Misguide to Madness, or to Sleep.
Sleep were well; thou'hast learnt a way
To Death it self now to betray.

It grieves me when I see what Fate
Does on the best of Mankind wait.
Poets or Lovers let them be,
'Tis neither Love nor Poesie
Can arm against Deaths smallest dart
The Poets Head, or Lovers Heart.
But when their Life in its decline,
Touches th'Inevitable Line,
All the Worlds Mortal to'em then,
And Wine is Aconite to men.
Nay in Deaths Hand the Grape-stone proves
As strong as Thunder is in Joves.

FINIS.

THE MISTRESS:

OR, SEVERAL COPIES OF LOVE-VERSES.

Virg. Æn. 4. —Hæret lateri lethalis arundo.

The Request.

1

I'have often wisht to love; what shall I do?
Me still the cruel Boy does spare;
And I a double task must bear,
First to woo him, and then a Mistress too.
Come at last and strike for shame;
If thou art any thing besides a name.
I'le think Thee else no God to be;
But Poets rather Gods, who first created Thee.

2

6

What should those Poets mean of old
That made their God to woo in Gold?
Of all men sure They had no cause
To bind Love to such costly Laws;
And yet I scarcely blame them now;
For who, alas, would not allow,
That Women should such gifts receive,
Could They, as He, Be what They give.

7

If thou, my Dear, Thy self shouldst prize,
Alas, what value would suffize?
The Spaniard could not do't, though he
Should to both Indies joynture thee.
Thy beauties therefore wrong will take,
If thou shouldst any bargain make;
To give All will befit thee well;
But not at Under-Rates to sell.

8

Bestow thy Beauty then on me,
Freely, as Nature gave't to Thee;
'Tis an exploded Popish thought
To think that Heaven may be bought.
Pray'rs, Hymns, and Praises are the way;
And those my thankful Muse shall pay;
Thy Body in my verse enshrin'd,
Shall grow immortal as thy Mind.

9

I'll fix thy title next in fame
To Sacharissas well-sung name.
So faithfully will I declare
What all thy wondrous beauties are,
That when at the last great Assise,
All Women shall together rise,
Men strait shall cast their eyes on Thee
And know at first that Thou art She.

The Spring.

1

Though you be absent here, I needs must say
The Trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay,
As ever they were wont to be;
Nay the Birds rural musick too
Is as melodious and free,
As if they sung to pleasure you:
I saw a Rose-Bud o'pe this morn; I'll swear
The blushing Morning open'd not more fair.

2

How could it be so fair, and you away?
How could the Trees be beauteous, Flowers so gay?
Could they remember but last year,
How you did Them, They you delight,
The sprouting leaves which saw you here,
And call'd their Fellows to the sight,
Would, looking round for the same sight in vain,
Creep back into their silent Barks again.

3

Where ere you walk'd trees were as reverend made,
As when of old Gods dwelt in every shade.
Is't possible they should not know,
What loss of honor they sustain,
That thus they smile and flourish now,
And still their former pride retain?
Dull Creatures! 'tis not without Cause that she,
Who fled the God of wit, was made a Tree.

4

In ancient times sure they much wiser were,
When they rejoyc'd the Thracian verse to hear;
In vain did Nature bid them stay,
When Orpheus had his song begun,
They call'd their wondring roots away,
And bad them silent to him run.
How would those learned trees have followed you?
You would have drawn Them, and their Poet too.

5

But who can blame them now? for, since you're gone,
They're here the only Fair, and Shine alone.
You did their Natural Rights invade;
Where ever you did walk or sit,
The thickest Boughs could make no shade,
Although the Sun had granted it:
The fairest Flowers could please no more, neer you,
Then Painted Flowers, set next to them, could do.

6

When e're then you come hither, that shall be
The time, which this to others is, to Me.
The little joys which here are now,
The name of Punishments do bear;
When by their sight they let us know
How we depriv'd of greater are.
'Tis you the best of Seasons with you bring;
This is for Beasts, and that for Men the Spring.

Written in Juice of Lemmon.

1

Whilst what I write I do not see,
I dare thus, even to you, write Poetry.
Ah foolish Muse, which do'st so high aspire,
And know'st her judgment well
How much it does thy power excel,
Yet dar'st be read by, thy just doom, the Fire.

2

Alas, thou think'st thy self secure,
Because thy form is Innocent and Pure:
Like Hypocrites, which seem unspotted here;
But when they sadly come to dye,
And the last Fire their Truth must try,
Scrauld o're like thee, and blotted they appear.

3

Go then, but reverently go,
And, since thou needs must sin, confess it too:
Confess't, and with humility clothe thy shame;
For thou, who else must burned be
An Heretick, if she pardon thee,
May'st like a Martyr then enjoy the Flame.

4

But if her wisdom grow severe,
And suffer not her goodness to be there;
If her large mercies cruelly it restrain;
Be not discourag'd, but require
A more gentle Ordeal Fire,
And bid her by Loves-Flames read it again.

5

Strange power of heat, thou yet dost show
Like winter earth, naked, or cloath'd with Snow,
But, as the quickning Sun approaching near,
The Plants arise up by degrees,
A sudden paint adorns the trees,
And all kind Natures Characters appear.

6

So, nothing yet in Thee is seen,
But when a Genial heat warms thee within,
A new-born Wood of various Lines there grows;
Here buds an A, and there a B,
Here sprouts a V, and there a T,
And all the flourishing Letters stand in Rows.

7

Still, silly Paper, thou wilt think
That all this might as well be writ with Ink.
Oh no; there's sense in this, and Mysterie;
Thou now maist change thy Authors name,
And to her Hand lay noble claim;
For as She Reads, she Makes the words in Thee.

8

Yet if thine own unworthiness
Will still, that thou art mine, not Hers, confess;
Consume thy self with Fire before her Eyes,
And so her Grace or Pity move;
The Gods, though Beasts they do not Love,
Yet like them when they'r burnt in Sacrifice.

Inconstancy.

Five years ago (says Story) I lov'd you,
For which you call me most Inconstant now;
Pardon me, Madam, you mistake the Man;
For I am not the same that I was than;
No Flesh is now the same 'twas then in Me,
And that my Mind is chang'd your self may see.
The same Thoughts to retain still, and Intents
Were more inconstant far; for Accidents
Must of all things most strangely 'Inconstant prove,
If from one Subject they t'another move;
My Members then, the Father members were
From whence These take their birth, which now are here.
If then this Body love what th' other did,
'Twere Incest; which by Nature is forbid.
You might as well this Day inconstant name,
Because the Weather is not still the same,
That it was yesterday: or blame the Year,
Cause the Spring, Flowers; and Autumn, Fruit does bear.
The World's a Scene of Changes, and to be
Constant, in Nature were Inconstancy;
For 'twere to break the Laws her self has made:
Our Substances themselves do fleet and fade;
The most fixt Being still does move and fly,
Swift as the wings of Time 'tis measur'd by.
T'imagine then that Love should never cease
(Love which is but the Ornament of these)
Were quite as senseless, as to wonder why
Beauty and Colour stays not when we dye.

Not Fair.

4

Such robes the Saints departed wear,
Woven all with Light divine;
Such their exalted Bodies are,
And with such full glory shine.
But they regard not mortals pain;
Men pray, I fear, to both in vain.

5

Yet seeing thee so gently pure,
My hopes will needs continue still;
Thou wouldst not take this garment sure,
When thou hadst an intent to kill.
Of Peace and yielding who would doubt,
When the white Flag he sees hung out?

Leaving Me, and then loving Many.

So Men, who once have cast the Truth away,
Forsook by God, do strange wild lusts obey;
So the vain Gentiles, when they left t' adore
One Deity, could not stop at thousands more.

Their zeal was senseless strait, and boundless grown;
They worshipt many a Beast, and many a Stone.
Ah fair Apostate! couldst thou think to flee
From Truth and Goodness, yet keep Unity?
I reign'd alone; and my blest Self could call
The Universal Monarch of her All.
Mine, mine her fair East-Indies were above,
Where those Suns rise that chear the world of Love;
Where beauties shine like Gems of richest price;
Where Coral grows, and every breath is spice:
Mine too her rich West-Indies were below,
Where Mines of gold and endless treasures grow.
But, as, when the Pellæan Conquerour dy'd,
Many small Princes did his Crown divide,
So, since my Love his vanquisht world forsook,
Murther'd by poysons from her falshood took,
An hundred petty Kings claim each their part,
And rend that glorious Empire of her Heart.

My Heart discovered.

Her body is so gently bright,
Clear, and transparent to the sight,
(Clear as fair Christal to the view,
Yet soft as that, e're Stone it grew,)
That through her flesh, methinks, is seen
The brighter Soul that dwells within:
Our eyes the subtile covering pass,
And see that Lilly through its Glass.
I through her Breast her Heart espy,
As Souls in hearts do Souls descry,
I see't with gentle Motions beat;
I see Light in't, but find no Heat.
Within, like Angels in the sky,
A thousand guilded thoughts do fly:
Thoughts of bright and noblest kind,
Fair and chast, as Mother-Mind.
But, oh, what other Heart is there,
Which sighs and crouds to hers so neer?

'Tis all on flame, and does like fire,
To that, as to its Heaven, aspire,
The wounds are many in't and deep;
Still does it bleed, and still does weep.
Whose ever wretched heart it be,
I cannot chuse but grieve to see;
What pity in my Breast does raign?
Methinks I feel too all its pain.
So torn, and so defac'd it lies,
That it could ne're be known by th' eyes;
But, oh, at last I heard it grone,
And knew by th' Voyce that 'twas mine own.
So poor Alcione, when she saw
A shipwrackt body tow'ards her draw
Beat by the Waves, let fall a Tear,
Which only then did Pity wear:
But when the Corps on shore were cast,
Which she her Husband found at last;
What should the wretched Widow do?
Grief chang'd her straight; away she flew,
Turn'd to a Bird: and so at last shall I,
Both from my Murther'd Heart, and Murth'rer fly.

Answer to the Platonicks.

So Angels love; so let them love for me;
When I'am all soul, such shall my Love too be:
Who nothing here but like a Spirit would do,
In a short time (believ't) will be one too:
But shall our Love do what in Beasts we see?
E'ven Beasts eat too, but not so well as We.
And you as justly might in thirst refuse
The use of Wine, because Beasts Water use:
They taste those pleasures as they do their food;
Undrest they tak't, devour it raw and crude:
But to us Men, Love Cooks it at his fire,
And adds the poignant sawce of sharp desire.
Beasts do the same: 'tis true; but ancient fame
Says, Gods themselves turn'd Beasts to do the same.

The Thunderer, who, without the Female bed,
Could Goddesses bring forth from out his head,
Chose rather Mortals this way to create;
So much he 'esteemed his pleasure, 'bove his state.
Ye talk of Fires which shine, but never burn;
In this cold world they'll hardly serve our turn;
As useless to despairing Lovers grown,
As Lambent flames, to men i'th' Frigid Zone.
The Sun does his pure fires on earth bestow
With nuptial warmth, to bring forth things below;
Such is Loves noblest and divinest heat,
That warms like his, and does, like his, beget.
Lust you call this; a name to yours more just,
If an Inordinate Desire be Lust:
Pygmalion, loving what none can enjoy,
More lustful was, than the hot youth of Troy.

The vain Love.

Loving one first because she could love no body, afterwards loving her with desire.

What new-found Witchcraft was in thee,
With thine own Cold to kindle Me?
Strange art! like him that should devise
To make a Burning-Glass of Ice;
When Winter, so, the Plants would harm,
Her snow it self does keep them warm;
Fool that I was! who having found
A rich, and sunny Diamond,
Admir'd the hardness of the Stone,
But not the Light with which it shone:
Your brave and haughty scorn of all
Was stately, and Monarchical.
All Gentleness with that esteem'd
A dull and slavish virtue seem'd;
Shouldst thou have yielded then to me,
Thou'dst lost what I most lov'd in thee;
For who would serve one, whom he sees
That he can Conquer if he please?

It far'ed with me, as if a slave
In Triumph led, that does perceive
With what a gay majestick pride
His Conqu'eror through the streets does ride,
Should be contented with his wo,
Which makes up such a comly show.
I sought not from thee a return,
But without Hopes or Fears did burn;
My Covetous Passion did approve
The Hoording up, not Use of Love.
My Love a kind of Dream was grown,
A Foolish, but a Pleasant one:
From which I'm wakened now, but, oh,
Prisoners to dye are wakened so.
For now th' Effects of Loving are
Nothing, but Longings with despair.
Despair, whose torments no men sure
But Lovers, and the Damn'd endure.
Her scorn I doted once upon,
Ill Object for Affection,
But since, alas, too much 'tis prov'd,
That yet 'twas something that I lov'd;
Now my desires are worse, and fly
At an Impossibility:
Desires, which whilst so high they soar,
Are Proud as that I lov'd before.
What Lover can like me complain,
Who first lov'd vainly, next in vain!

The Soul.

1.

If mine Eyes do e're declare
They have seen a second thing that's fair;
Or Ears, that they have Musick found,
Besides thy Voice, in any Sound;
If my Tast do ever meet,
After thy Kiss, with ought that's sweet;

If my 'abused Touch allow
Ought to be smooth, or soft, but You;
If, what seasonable Springs,
Or the Eastern Summer brings,
Do my Smell perswade at all,
Ought Perfume, but thy Breath to call;
If all my senses Objects be
Not contracted into Thee,
And so through Thee more powe'rful pass,
As Beams do through a Burning-Glass;
If all things that in Nature are
Either soft, or sweet, or fair,
Be not in Thee so 'Epitomiz'd,
That nought material's not compriz'd;
May I as worthless seem to Thee
As all, but Thou, appears to Me.

2.

If I ever Anger know,
Till some wrong be done to You;
If Gods or Kings my Envy move,
Without their Crowns crown'd by thy Love;
If ever I an Hope admit,
Without thy Image stampt on it;
Or any Fear, till I begin
To find that You'r concern'd therein;
If a Joy e're come to me,
That Tasts of any thing but Thee;
If any Sorrow touch my Mind,
Whilst You are well, and not unkind;
If I a minutes space debate,
Whether I shall curse and hate
The things beneath thy hatred fall,
Though all the World, My self and all;
And for Love, if ever I
Approach to it again so nigh,
As to allow a Toleration
To the least glimmering Inclination;

If thou alone do'st not controul
All those Tyrants of my Soul,
And to thy Beauties ty'st them so,
That constant they as Habits grow;
If any Passion of my Heart,
By any force, or any art,
Be brought to move one step from Thee,
Mayst Thou no Passion have for Me.

3.

If my busie 'Imagination
Do not Thee in all things fashion;
So that all fair Species be
Hieroglyphick marks of Thee;
If when She her sports does keep
(The lower Soul being all asleep)
She play one Dream with all her art,
Where Thou hast not the longest part.
If ought get place in my Remembrance,
Without some badge of thy resemblance;
So that thy parts become to me
A kind of Art of Memory.
If my Understanding do
Seek any Knowledge but of You,
If she do near thy Body prize
Her Bodies of Philosophies,
If She to the Will do show
Ought desirable but You,
Or if That would not rebel,
Should she another doctrine tell;
If my Will do not resign
All her Liberty to thine;
If she would not follow Thee,
Though Fate and Thou shouldst disagree;
And if (for I a curse will give,
Such as shall force thee to believe)
My Soul be not entirely Thine;
May thy dear Body ne're be Mine.

The Passions.

1

From Hate, Fear, Hope, Anger, and Envy free,
And all the Passions else that be,
In vain I boast of Liberty,
In vain this State a Freedom call;
Since I have Love, and Love is all:
Sot that I am, who think it fit to brag,
That I have no Disease besides the Plague!

2

So in a zeal the Sons of Israel,
Sometimes upon their Idols fell;
And they depos'd the powers of Hell,
Baal, and Astarte down they threw,
And Accaron and Molock too:
All this imperfect Piety did no good,
Whilst yet, alas, the Calf of Bethel stood.

3

Fondly I boast, that I have drest my Vine
With painful art, and that the Wine
Is of a tast rich and divine,
Since Love by mixing Poyson there,
Has made it worse than Vinegere.
Love even the tast of Nectar changes so,
That Gods choose rather water here below.

4

Fear, Anger, Hope, all Passions else that be,
Drive this one Tyrant out of me,
And practise all your Tyranny.
The change of ills some good will do:
Th' oppressed wretched Indians so,
Be'ing slaves by the great Spanish Monarch made,
Call in the States of Holland to their aid.

Wisdom.

'Tis mighty Wise that you would now be thought
With your grave Rules from musty Morals brought:
Through which some streaks too of Divin'ity ran,
Partly of Monk, and partly Puritan;
With tedious Repetitions too y'ave tane
Often the name of Vanity in vain.
Things, which, I take it, friend, you'd ne're recite,
Should she I love, but say t' you, Come at night.
The Wisest King refus'd all pleasures quite,
Till Wisdom from above did him enlight;
But when that gift his ign'orance did remove,
Pleasures he chose, and plac'd them all in Love.
And if by 'event the Counsels may be seen,
This wisdom 'twas that brought the Southern Queen.
She came not, like a good old Wife, to know
The wholesome nature of all Plants that grow:
Nor did so far from her own Country rome,
To cure scall'd heads, and broken shins at home;
She came for that, which more befits all Wives,
The art of Giving, not of Saving Lives.

The Despair.

1

Beneath this gloomy shade,
By Nature only for my sorrows made,
I'll spend this voyce in crys,
In tears I'll waste these eyes
By Love so vainly fed;
So Lust of old the Deluge punished.
Ah wretched youth! said I,
Ah wretched youth! twice did I sadly cry:
Ah wretched youth! the fields and floods reply.

2

When thoughts of Love I entertain,
I meet no words but Never, and In vain.
Never (alas) that dreadful name,
Which fewels the infernal flame:
Never, my time to come must waste;
In vain, torments the present, and the past.
In vain, in vain! said I;
In vain, in vain! twice did I sadly cry;
In vain, in vain! the fields and floods reply.

3

No more shall fields or floods do so;
For I to shades more dark and silent go:
All this worlds noise appears to me
A dull ill-acted Comedy:
No comfort to my wounded sight,
In the Suns busie and imperti'nent Light.
Then down I laid my head;
Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
And my freed Soul to a strange Somewhere fled.

4

Ah sottish Soul; said I,
When back to 'its Cage again I saw it fly:
Fool to resume her broken chain!
And row her Galley here again!
Fool, to that body to return
Where it condemn'd and destin'd is to burn!
Once dead, how can it be,
Death should a thing so pleasant seem to Thee,
That thou shouldst come to live it o're again in Me?

The Wish.

For Heavens sake, what d' you mean to do?
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;
Youth and warm hours let me not idlely lose,
The little Time that Love does choose;
If always here I must not stay,
Let me be gone, whilst yet 'tis day;
Lest I faint, and benighted lose my way.

2

'Tis dismal, One so long to love
In vain; till to love more as vain must prove:
To hunt so long on nimble prey, till we
Too weary to take others be;
Alas, 'tis folly to remain,
And waste our Army thus in vain,
Before a City which will ne're be tane.

3

At several hopes wisely to fly,
Ought not to be esteem'd Inconstancy;
'Tis more Inconstant always to pursue,
A thing that always flies from you;
For that at last may meet a bound,
But no end can to this be found,
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless Round.

4

When it does Hardness meet and Pride,
My Love does then rebound t'another side;
But if it ought that's soft and yielding hit;
It lodges there, and stays in it.
Whatever 'tis shall first love me,
That it my Heaven may truly be;
I shall be sure to give't Eternity.

The Discovery.

1

By 'Heaven I'll tell her boldly that 'tis She;
Why should she asham'd or angry be,
To be belov'd by Me?
The Gods may give their Altars o're;
They'll smoak but seldom any more,
If none but Happy Men must them adore.

2

The Lightning which tall Oaks oppose in vain,
To strike sometime does not disdain
The humble Furzes of the Plain.
She being so high, and I so low,
Her power by this does greater show,
Who at such distance gives so sure a blow.

3

Compar'd with her all things so worthless prove,
That nought on earth can tow'ards her move,
Till't be exalted by her Love.
Equal to her, alas, there's none;
She like a Deity is grown;
That must Create, or else must be alone.

4

If there be man, who thinks himself so high,
As to pretend equality,
He deserves her less then I;
For he would cheat for his relief;
And one would give with lesser grief,
To'an undeserving Beggar than a Thief.

Against Fruition.

No; thou'rt a fool, I'll swear, if e're thou grant:
Much of my Veneration thou must want,
When once thy kindness puts my Ign'orance out;
For a learn'd Age is always least devout.

Keep still thy distance; for at once to me
Goddess and Woman too, thou canst not be;
Thou'rt Queen of all that sees thee; and as such
Must neither Tyrannize, nor yield too much;
Such freedoms give as may admit Command,
But keep the Forts and Magazines in thine hand.
Thou'rt yet a whole world to me, and do'est fill
My large ambition; but 'tis dang'rous still,
Lest I like the Pellæan Prince should be,
And weep for other worlds hav'ing conquer'd thee;
When Love has taken all thou hast away,
His strength by too much riches will decay.
Thou in my Fancy dost much higher stand,
Than Women can be place'd by Natures hand;
And I must needs, I'm sure, a loser be,
To change Thee, as Thou'rt there, for very Thee.
Thy sweetness is so much within me plac'd,
That shouldst thou Nectar give, 'twould spoil the tast.
Beauty at first moves wonder, and delight;
'Tis Natures juggling trick to cheat the sight,
We 'admire it, whilst unknown, but after more
Admire our selves, for liking it before.
Love, like a greedy Hawk, if we give way,
Does over-gorge himself, with his own Prey;
Of very Hopes a surfeit he'll sustain,
Unless by Fears he cast them up again:
His spirit and sweetness dangers keep alone;
If once he lose his sting, he grows a Drone.

Love undiscovered.

1

Some, others may with safety tell
The moderate Flames, which in them dwell;
And either find some Med'icine there,
Or cure themselves ev'en by Despair;
My Love's so great, that it might prove
Dang'erous, to tell her that I Love.
So tender is my wound, it must not bear
Any salute, though of the kindest air.

100

2

I would not have her know the pain,
The Torments for her I sustain,
Lest too much goodness make her throw
Her Love upon a Fate too low.
Forbid it Heaven my Life should be
Weigh'd with her least Conveniency:
No, let me perish rather with my grief,
Then to her disadvantage find relief.

3

Yet when I dye, my last breath shall
Grow bold, and plainly tell her all.
Like covetous Men who ne're descry,
Their dear hid Treasures till they dye.
Ah fairest Maid, how will it chear
My Ghost, to get from Thee a tear!
But take heed; for if me thou Pitiest then,
Twenty to one but I shall live agen.

The given Heart.

1

I wonder what those Lovers mean, who say,
They have giv'en their Hearts away.
Some good kind Lover tell me how;
For mine is but a Torment to me now.

2

If so it be, one place both hearts contain,
For what do they complain?
What courtesie can Love do more,
Than to join Hearts, that parted were before?

3

Wo to her stubborn Heart, if once mine come
Into the self same room;
'Twill tear and blow up all within,
Like a Granado shot into a Magazin.

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4

Then shall Love keep the ashes, and torn parts,
Of both our broken Hearts:
Shall out of both one new one make,
From hers, th' Allay; from mine, the Metal take.

5

For of her heart he from the flames will find
But little left behind:
Mine only will remain entire;
No dross was there, to perish in the Fire.

The Prophet.

1.

Teach me to Love? go teach thy self more wit;
I chief Professour am of it.
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Jews,
Teach boldness to the Stews;
In Tyrants Courts teach supple flattery,
Teach Jesuits, that have travell'd far, to Lye.
Teach Fire to burn, and Winds to blow,
Teach restless Fountains how to flow,
Teach the dull earth, fixt, to abide,
Teach Woman-kind inconstancy and Pride.
See if your diligence here will useful prove;
But, pr'ithee, teach not me to Love.

2.

The God of Love, if such a thing there be,
May learn to love from Me.
He who does boast that he has bin
In every Heart since Adams sin,
I'll lay my Life, nay Mistress on't, that's more;
I'll teach him things he never knew before;

102

I'll teach him a Receipt to make
Words that weep, and Tears that speak,
I'll teach him Sighs, like those in Death,
At which the Souls go out too with the breath:
Still the Soul stays, yet still does from me run;
As Light and Heat does with the Sun.

3.

'Tis I who Love's Columbus am; 'tis I,
Who must new Worlds in it descry:
Rich Worlds, that yield of Treasure more,
Than all that has bin known before.
And yet like his (I fear) my Fate must be,
To find them out for others; not for Me.
Me Times to come, I know it, shall
Loves last and greatest Prophet call.
But, ah, what's that, if she refuse,
To hear the wholesome Doctrines of my Muse?
If to my share the Prophets fate must come;
Hereafter Fame, here Martyrdome.

The Resolution.

1

The Devil take those foolish men,
Who gave you first such pow'rs;
We stood on even grounds till then;
If any odds, Creation made it ours.

2

For shame let these weak Chains be broke;
Let's our slight bonds, like Sampson, tear;
And nobly cast away that yoke,
Which we nor our Forefathers e're could bear.

3

French Laws forbid the Female Raign;
Yet Love does them to slavery draw,
Alas, if we'll our rights maintain,
'Tis all Mankind must make a Salique Law.

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Called Inconstant.

1

Ha! ha! you think y'have kill'd my fame;
By this not understood, yet common Name:
A Name, that's full and proper when assign'd
To Woman-kind:
But when you call us so,
It can at best but for a Met'aphor go.

2

Can you the shore Inconstant call,
Which still as Waves pass by, embraces all;
That had as leif the same Waves always love,
Did they not from him move?
Or can you fault with Pilots find
For changing course, yet never blame the wind?

3

Since drunk with vanity you fell:
The things turn round to you that stedfast dwell;
And you your self, who from us take your flight,
Wonder to find us out of sight.
So the same errour seizes you,
As Men in motion think the Trees move too.

The Welcome.

1

Go, let the fatted Calf be kill'd;
My Prodigal's come home at last;
With noble resolutions fill'd,
And fill'd with sorrow for the past.
No more will burn with Love or Wine:
But quite has left his Women and his Swine.

104

2

Welcome, ah welcome my poor Heart;
Welcome; I little thought, I'll swear,
('Tis now so long since we did part)
Ever again to see thee here:
Dear Wanderer, since from me you fled,
How often have I heard that Thou wer't dead!

3

Hast thou not found each womans breast
(The Lands where thou hast travelled)
Either by Savages possest,
Or wild, and uninhabited?
What joy couldst take, or what repose
In Countrys so unciviliz'd as those?

4

Lust, the scorching Dog-star, here
Rages with immoderate heart;
Whilst Pride the rugged Northern Bear,
In others makes the Cold too great.
And where these are temp'rate known,
The Soyl's all barren Sand, or rocky Stone.

5

When once or twice you chanc'd to view
A rich, well-govern'd Heart,
Like China, it admitted You
But to the Frontier-part.
From Par'adise shut for evermore,
What good is't that an Angel kept the Door?

6

Well fare the Pride, and the Disdain,
And Vanities with Beauty joyn'd,
I ne're had seen this Heart again,
If any Fair one had been kind:
My Dove, but once let loose, I doubt
Would ne're return, had not the Flood been out.

105

The Heart fled again.

1

False, foolish Heart! didst thou not say,
That thou wouldst never leave me more?
Behold again 'tis fled away,
Fled as far from me as before.
I strove to bring it back again,
I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain.

2

Even so the gentle Tyrian Dame,
When neither Grief nor Love prevail,
Saw the dear object of her flame,
Th'ingrateful Trojan hoist his sail:
Aloud she call'd to him to stay;
The wind bore him, and her lost words away.

3

The doleful Ariadne so,
On the wide shore forsaken stood:
False Theseus, whither dost thou go?
Afar false Theseus cut the flood.
But Bacchus came to her relief;
Bacchus himself's too weak to ease my grief.

4

Ah senseless Heart, to take no rest,
But travel thus eternally!
Thus to be froz'n in every breast!
And to be scorcht in every Eye!
Wandring about like wretched Cain,
Thrust out, ill us'd by all, but by none slain!

5

Well; since thou wilt not here remain,
I'll ev'en to live without Thee try;
My Head shall take the greater pain,
And all thy duties shall supply;
I can more easi'ly live I know
Without Thee, then without a Mistress Thou.

106

Womens Superstition.

1

Or I'm a very Dunce, or Womankind
Is a most unintelligible thing:
I can no Sense, nor no Contexture find,
Nor their loose parts to Method bring,
I know not what the Learn'd may see,
But they're strange Hebrew things to Me.

2

By Customs and Traditions they live,
And foolish Ceremonies of antique date,
We Lovers, new and better Doctrines give.
Yet they continue obstinate;
Preach we, Loves Prophets, what we will,
Like Jews, they keep their old Law still.

3

Before their Mothers Gods, they fondly fall,
Vain Idol-Gods that have no Sense nor Mind:
Honour's their Ashtaroth, and Pride their Baal,
The Thundring Baal of Woman-kind.
With twenty other Devils more,
Which They, as We do Them, adore.

4

But then, like Men both Covetous and Devout,
Their costly Superstition loth t'omit,
And yet more loth to issue Moneys out,
At their own charge to furnish it.
To these expensive Deities,
The Hearts of Men they Sacrifice.

107

The Soul.

1

Some dull Philos'opher when he hears me say,
My Soul is from me fled away;
Nor has of late inform'd my Body here,
But in anothers breast does ly,
That neither Is, nor will be I,
As a Form Servient and Assisting there:

2

Will cry, Absurd! and ask me, how I live:
And Syllogisms against it give;
A curse on all your vain Philosophies,
Which on weak Natures Law depend,
And know not how to comprehend
Love and Religion, those great Mysteries.

3

Her Body is my Soul; laugh not at this,
For by my Life I swear it is.
'Tis that preserves my Being and my Breath,
From that proceeds all that I do,
Nay all my Thoughts and speeches too,
And separation from it is my Death.

Eccho.

1

Tir'ed with the rough denials of my Prayer,
From that hard she whom I obey,
I come, and find a Nymph, much gentler here,
That gives consent to all I say.
Ah gentle Nymph who lik'st so well,
In hollow, solitary Caves to dwell,
Her Heart being such, into it go,
And do but once from thence answer me so.

108

2

Complaisant Nymph, who do'est thus kindly share
In griefs, whose cause thou do'est not know!
Hadst thou but Eyes, as well as Tongue and Ear,
How much compassion wouldst thou show!
Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,
Was of less beauty, and less rav'ishing power;
Alas, I might as easilie,
Paint thee to her, as describe Her to Thee.

3

By repercussion Beams engender Fire,
Shapes by reflexion shapes beget;
The voyce it self, when stopt, does back retire,
And a new voice is made by it.
Thus things by opposition
The gainers grow; my barren Love alone,
Does from her stony breast rebound,
Producing neither Image, Fire, nor Sound.

The rich Rival.

1

They say you're angry, and rant mightilie,
Because I love the same as you;
Alas! you're very rich; 'tis true;
But prithee Fool, what's that to Love and Me?
You'have Land and Money, let that serve;
And know you'have more by that than you deserve.

2

When next I see my fair One, she shall know,
How worthless thou art of her bed;
And wretch, I'll strike thee dumb and dead,
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole Rhetorick shall be
Joynture, and Jewels, and Our Friends agree.

109

3

Pox o' your friends, that dote and Domineere:
Lovers are better Friends than they:
Let's those in other things obey;
The Fates, and Stars, and Gods must govern here.
Vain names of Blood! in Love let none
Advise with any Blood, but with their own.

4

'Tis that which bids me this bright Maid adore;
No other thought has had access!
Did she now beg I'd love no less,
And were she'an Empress, I should love no more;
Were she as just and true to Me,
Ah, simple soul, what would become of Thee!

Against Hope.

1

Hope , whose weak Being ruin'd is,
Alike if it succeed, and if it miss;
Whom Good or Ill does equally confound,
And both the Horns of Fates Dilemma wound.
Vain shadow! which dost vanish quite,
Both at full Noon, and perfect Night!
The Stars have not a possibility
Of blessing Thee;
If things then from their End we happy call,
'Tis Hope is the most Hopeless thing of all.

2

Hope, thou bold Taster of Delight,
Who whilst thou shouldst but tast, devour'st it quite!
Thou bringst us an Estate, yet leav'st us Poor,
By clogging it with Legacies before!
The Joys which we entire should wed,
Come deflowr'd Virgins to our bed;

110

Good fortunes without gain imported be,
Such mighty Custom's paid to Thee.
For Joy, like Wine, kept close does better tast;
If it take air before, its spirits wast.

3

Hope, Fortunes cheating Lottery!
Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be;
Fond Archer, Hope, who tak'st thy aim so far,
That still or short, or wide thine arrows are!
Thin, empty Cloud, which th'eye deceives
With shapes that our own Fancy gives!
A Cloud, which gilt and painted now appears,
But must drop presently in tears!
When thy false beams o're Reasons light prevail,
By Ignes fatui for North-Stars we sail.

4

Brother of Fear, more gaily clad!
The merr'ier Fool o'th' two, yet quite as Mad:
Sire of Repentance, Child of fond Desire!
That blow'st the Chymicks, and the Lovers fire!
Leading them still insensibly 'on
By the strange witchcraft of Anon!
By Thee the one does changing Nature through
Her endless Labyrinths pursue,
And th'other chases Woman, whilst She goes
More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows.

For Hope.

1

Hope , of all Ills that men endure,
The only cheap and Universal Cure!
Thou Captives freedom, and Thou sick Mans Health!
Thou Losers Victo'ry, and thou Beggars wealth!
Thou Manna, which from Heav'n we eat,
To every Tast a several Meat!
Thou strong Retreat! thou sure entail'd Estate,
Which nought has power to alienate!
Thou pleasant, honest Flatterer! for none
Flatter unhappy Men, but thou alone!

111

2

Hope, thou First-fruits of Happiness!
Thou gentle Dawning of a bright Success!
Thou good Prepar'ative, without which our Joy
Does work too strong, and whilst it cures, destroy;
Who out of Fortunes reach dost stand,
And art a blessing still in hand!
Whilst Thee, her Earnest-Money we retain,
We certain are to gain,
Whether she'her bargain break, or else fulfill;
Thou only good, not worse, for ending ill!

3

Brother of Faith, 'twixt whom and Thee
The joys of Heav'en and Earth divided be!
Though Faith be Heir, and have the fixt estate,
Thy Portion yet in Moveables is great.
Happiness it self's all one
In Thee, or in possession!
Only the Future's Thine, the present His!
Thine's the more hard and noble bliss;
Best apprehender of our joys, which hast
So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast!

4

Hope, thou sad Lovers only Friend!
Thou Way that mayst dispute it with the End!
For Love I fear's a fruit that does delight
The Tast it self less than the Smell and Sight.
Fruition more deceitful is
Than Thou canst be, when thou dost miss;
Men leave thee by obtaining, and strait flee
Some other way again to Thee;
And that's a pleasant Country, without doubt,
To which all soon return that travel out.

112

Loves Ingratitude.

1

I little thought, thou fond ingrateful Sin,
When first I let thee in,
And gave thee but a part
In my unwary Heart,
That thou wouldst e're have grown,
So false or strong to make it all thine own.

2

At mine own breast with care I fed thee still,
Letting thee suck thy fill,
And daintily I nourisht Thee
With Idle thoughts and Poetrie!
What ill returns dost thou allow?
I fed thee then, and thou dost starve me now.

3

There was a time, when thou wast cold and chill,
Nor hadst the power of doing ill;
Into my bosom did I take,
This frozen and benummed Snake,
Not fearing from it any harm;
But now it stings that breast which made it warm.

4

What cursed weed's this Love! but one grain sow,
And the whole field 'twill overgrow;
Strait will it choak up and devour
Each wholesome herb and beauteous flour!
Nay unless something soon I do,
'Twill kill I fear my very Lawrel too.

5

But now all's gone, I now, alas, complain,
Declare, protest, and threat in vain.
Since by my own unforc'd consent,
The Traytor has my Government,
And is so settled in the Throne,
That 'twere Rebellion now to claim mine own.

113

The Frailty.

1

I know 'tis sordid, and 'tis low;
(All this as well as you I know)
Which I so hotly now pursue;
(I know all this as well as you)
But whilst this cursed flesh I bear,
And all the Weakness, and the Baseness there,
Alas, alas, it will be always so.

2

In vain, exceedingly in vain
I rage sometimes, and bite my Chain;
For to what purpose do I bite
With Teeth which ne're will break it quite?
For if the chiefest Christian Head,
Was by this sturdy Tyrant buffeted,
What wonder is it, if weak I be slain?

Coldness.

1

As water fluid is, till it do grow
Solid and fixt by Cold;
So in warm Seasons Love does loosely flow,
Frost only can it hold.
A Womans rigour, and disdain,
Does his swift course restrain.

2

Though constant, and consistent now it be,
Yet, when kind beams appear,
It melts, and glides apace into the Sea,
And loses it self there.
So the Suns amorous play,
Kisses the Ice away.

114

3

You may in Vulgar Loves find always this;
But my Substantial Love
Of a more firm, and perfect Nature is;
No weathers can it move:
Though Heat dissolve the Ice again,
The Chrystal solid does remain.

[Then like some wealthy Island thou shalt ly]

1

Then like some wealthy Island thou shalt ly;
And like the Sea about it, I;
Thou like fair Albion, to the Sailors Sight,
Spreading her beauteous Bosom all in White:
Like the kind Ocean I will be,
With loving Arms for ever clasping Thee.

2

But I'll embrace Thee gentli'er far than so;
As their fresh Banks soft Rivers do,
Nor shall the proudest Planet boast a power
Of making my full Love to ebb one hour;
It never dry or low can prove,
Whilst thy unwasted Fountain feeds my Love.

3

Such Heat and Vigour shall our Kisses bear,
As if like Doves we' engendred there.
No bound nor rule my pleasures shall endure,
In Love there's none too much an Epicure.
Nought shall my hands or Lips controul;
I'll kiss Thee through, I'll kiss thy very Soul.

4

Yet nothing, but the Night our sports shall know;
Night that's both blind and silent too.
Alphæus found not a more secret trace,
His lov'd Sicanian Fountain to embrace,
Creeping so far beneath the Sea,
Than I will do t' enjoy, and feast on Thee.

115

5

Men, out of Wisdom; Women, out of Pride,
The pleasant Thefts of Love do hide.
That may secure thee; but thou 'hast yet from Me
A more infallible Securitie.
For there's no danger I should tell
The Joys, which are to Me unspeakable.

Sleep.

1

In vain, thou drousie God, I thee invoak;
For thou, who dost from fumes arise,
Thou, who Mans Soul dost overshade
With a thick Cloud by Vapours made,
Canst have no power to shut his eyes,
Or passage of his Spi'rits to choak,
Whose flame's so pure, that it sends up no smoak.

2

Yet how do Tears but from some Vapours rise?
Tears, that bewinter all my Year?
The fate of Egypt I sustain,
And never feel the dew of Rain,
From Clouds which in the Head appear,
But all my too much Moysture ow,
To overflowings of the Heart below.

3

Thou, who dost Men (as Nights to Colours do)
Bring all to an Equality:
Come, thou just God, and equal me
A while to my disdainful She;
In that condition let me ly;
Till Love does the favour shew;
Love equals all a better way than You.

116

4

Then never more shalt thou be'invokt by me;
Watchful as Spirits, and Gods I'll prove:
Let her but grant, and then will I,
Thee and thy Kinsman Death defy.
For betwixt Thee and them that love,
Never will an agreement be;
Thou scorn'st th' Unhappy; and the Happy, Thee.

Beauty.

1

Beauty , thou wild fantastick Ape,
Who dost in ev'ry Country change thy shape!
Here black, there brown, here tawny, and there white;
Thou Flatt'rer which compli'st with every sight!
Thou Babel which confound'st the Ey
With unintelligible variety!
Who hast no certain What, nor Where,
But vary'st still, and dost thy self declare
Inconstant, as thy she-Professors are.

2

Beauty, Loves Scene and Maskerade,
So gay by well-plac'd Lights, and Distance made;
False Coyn, with which th'Impostor cheats us still;
The Stamp and Colour good, but Metal ill!
Which Light, or Base we find, when we
Weigh by Enjoyment, and examine Thee!
For though thy Being be but show,
'Tis chiefly Night which men to Thee allow:
And chuse t'enjoy Thee, when Thou least art Thou.

3

Beauty, Thou active, passive Ill!
Which dy'st thy self as fast as thou dost kill!
Thou Tulip, who thy stock in paint dost waste,
Neither for Physick good, nor Smell, nor Tast.

117

Beauty, whose Flames but Meteors are,
Short-liv'd and low, though thou wouldst seem a Star,
Who dar'st not thine own Home descry,
Pretending to dwell richly in the Eye,
When thou, alas, dost in the Fancy lye.

4

Beauty, whose Conquests still are made
O're Hearts by Cowards kept, or else betray'd!
Weak Victor! who thy self destroy'd must be
When sickness storms, or Time besieges Thee!
Thou'unwholesome Thaw to frozen Age!
Thou strong wine, which youths Feaver dost enrage,
Thou Tyrant which leav'st no man free!
Thou subtle thief, from whom nought safe can be!
Thou Murth'rer which hast kill'd, & Devil which wouldst Damn me.

The Parting.

1

As Men in Groen-land left beheld the Sun
From their Horizon run;
And thought upon the sad half year
Of Cold and Darkness they must suffer there:

2

So on my parting Mistress did I look,
With such swoln eyes my farewel took;
Ah, my fair Star! said I;
Ah those blest Lands to which bright Thou dost fly!

3

In vain the Men of Learning comfort me;
And say I'm in a warm degree;
Say what they please; I say and swear
'Tis beyond eighty at least, if you're not here.

118

4

It is, it is; I tremble with the Frost,
And know that I the Day have lost;
And those wild things which Men they call,
I find to be but Bears or Foxes all.

5

Return, return, gay Planet of mine East,
Of all that shines Thou much the Best!
And as thou now descend'st to Sea;
More fair and fresh rise up from thence to Me.

6

Thou, who in many a Propriety,
So truly art the Sun to Me,
Adde one more likeness, which I'm sure you can,
And let Me and my Sun beget a Man.

My Picture.

1

Here, take my Likeness with you, whilst 'tis so;
For when from hence you go,
The next Suns rising will behold
Me pale, and lean, and old.
The Man who did this Picture draw,
Will swear next day my face he never saw.

2

I really believe, within a while,
If you upon this shadow smile,
Your presence will such vigour give,
(Your presence which makes all things live)
And absence so much alter Me,
This will the substance, I the shadow be.

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3

When from your well-wrought Cabinet you take it,
And your bright looks awake it;
Ah be not frighted, if you see,
The new-soul'd Picture gaze on Thee,
And hear it breath a sigh or two;
For those are the first things that it will do.

4

My Rival-Image will be then thought blest,
And laugh at me as dispossest;
But Thou, who (if I know thee right)
I'th' substance dost not much delight,
Wilt rather send again for Me,
Who then shall but my Pictures Picture be.

The Concealment.

1

No; to what purpose should I speak?
No, wretched Heart, swell till you break!
She cannot love me if she would;
And to say truth, 'twere pity that she should.
No, to the Grave thy sorrows bear,
As silent, as they will be there:
Since that lov'd hand this mortal wound does give,
So handsomly the thing contrive,
That she may guiltless of it live.
So perish, that her killing Thee
May a Chance-Medley, and no Murther be.

2

'Tis nobler much for me, that I
By'her Beauty, not her Anger dy;
This will look justly, and become
An Execution; that, a Martyrdome.
The censuring world will ne're refrain
From judging men by Thunder slain.

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She must be angry sure, if I should be
So bold to ask her to make me
By being hers, happ'ier than She.
I will not; 'tis a milder fate
To fall by her not Loving, than her Hate.

3

And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear:
When, sound in every other part,
Her Sacrifice is found without an Heart.
For the last Tempest of my death
Shall sigh out that too, with my breath.
Then shall the world my noble ruine see,
Some pity, and some envy Me,
Then She her self, the mighty She,
Shall grace my fun'rals with this truth;
'Twas only Love destroy'd the gentle Youth.

The Monopoly.

1

What Mines of Sulphur in my breast do ly,
That feed th' eternal burnings of my heart?
Not Ætna flames more fierce or constantly,
The sounding shop of Vulcans smoaky art;
Vulcan his shop has placed there,
And Cupids Forge is set up here.

2

Here all those Arrows mortal Heads are made,
That flye so thick unseen through yielding air;
The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade
Are Jealousie, Fear, Sadness, and Despair.
Ah cruel God! and why to me
Gave you this curst Monopolie?

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3

I have the trouble, not the gains of it;
Give me but the disposal of one Dart;
And then (I'll ask no other benefit)
Heat as you please your furnace in my Heart.
So sweet's Revenge to me, that I
Upon my foe would gladly dy.

4

Deep into'her bosom would I strike the dart;
Deeper than Woman e're was struck by Thee;
Thou giv'st them small wounds, and so far from th'Heart,
They flutter still about, inconstantly,
Curse on thy Goodness, whom we find
Civil to none but Woman-kind!

5

Vain God! who women dost thy self adore!
Their wounded Hearts do still retain the powers
To travel, and to wander as before;
Thy broken Arrows 'twixt that sex and ours
So 'unjustly are distributed;
They take the Feathers, we the Head.

The Distance.

1

I'have followed thee a year at least,
And never stopt my self to rest.
But yet can thee o'retake no more,
Than this Day can the Day that went before.

2

In this our fortunes equal prove
To Stars, which govern them above;
Our Stars that move for ever round,
With the same Distance still betwixt them found.

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3

In vain, alas, in vain I strive
The wheel of Fate faster to drive;
Since if a round it swiftlier fly
She in it mends her pace as much as I.

4

Hearts by Love, strangely shuffled are,
That there can never meet a Pare!
Tamelier than Worms are Lovers slain;
The wounded Heart ne're turns to wound again.

The Encrease.

1

I thought, I'll swear, I could have lov'd no more
Then I had done before;
But you as easi'ly might account
'Till to the top of Numbers you amount,
As cast up my Loves score.
Ten thousand millions was the sum;
Millions of endless Millions are to come.

2

I'm sure her Beauties cannot greater grow;
Why should my Love do so?
A real cause at first did move;
But mine own Fancy now drives on my Love,
With shadows from it self that flow.
My Love, as we in Numbers see,
By Cyphers is encreast eternallie.

3

So the new-made, and untride Spheres above,
Took their first turn from th' hand of Jove;
But are since that beginning found
By their own Forms to move for ever round.
All violent Motions short do prove,
But by the length 'tis plain to see
That Love's a Motion Natural to Me.

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Loves Visibility.

1

With much of pain, and all the Art I knew
Have I endeavour'd hitherto
To hide my Love, and yet all will not do.

2

The world perceives it, and it may be, she;
Though so discreet and good she be,
By hiding it, to teach that skill to Me.

3

Men without Love have oft so cunning grown,
That something like it they have shown,
But none who had it ever seem'd t'have none.

4

Love's of a strangely open, simple kind,
Can no arts or disguises find,
But thinks none sees it 'cause it self is blind.

5

The very Eye betrays our inward smart;
Love of himself left there a part,
When thorow it he past into the Heart.

6

Or if by chance the Face betray not it,
But keep the secret wisely, yet,
Like Drunkenness, into the Tongue t'will get.

Looking on, and discoursing with his Mistress.

1

These full two hours now have I gazing been,
What comfort by it can I gain?
To look on Heav'en with mighty Gulfs between
Was the great Misers greatest pain;
So neer was he to Heavens delight,
As with the blest converse he might,
Yet could not get one drop of water by't.

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2

Ah wretch! I seem to touch her now; but, oh,
What boundless spaces do us part?
Fortune, and Friends, and all earths empty show
My Lowness, and her high Desert:
But these might conquerable prove;
Nothing does me so far remove,
As her hard Souls aversion from my Love.

3

So Travellers, that lose their way by night,
If from afar they chance t'espy
Th' uncertain glimmerings of a Tapers light,
Take flattering hopes, and think it nigh;
Till wearied with the fruitless pain,
They sit them down, and weep in vain,
And there in Darkness and Despair remain.

Resolved to Love.

1

I wonder what the Grave and Wise
Think of all us that Love;
Whether our Pretty Fooleries
Their Mirth or Anger move;
They understand not Breath, that Words does want;
Our Sighs to them are unsignificant.

2

2

Part of my Heart by Gift did to Thee fall;
My Country, Kindred, and my best
Acquaintance were to share the rest;
But thou, their Cov'etous Neighbour, drav'est out all:
Nay more; thou mak'st me worship Thee,
And would'st the rule of my Religion be;
Was ever Tyrant claim'd such power as you,
To be both Emp'rour, and Pope too?

3

The publick Mise'ries, and my private fate
Deserve some tears: but greedy Thou
(Insatiate Maid!) wilt not allow
That I one drop from thee should alienate.
Nor wilt thou grant my sins a part,
Though the sole cause of most of them thou art,
Counting my Tears thy Tribute and thy Due,
Since first mine Eyes I gave to You.

4

Thou all my Joys and all my Hopes dost claim,
Thou ragest like a Fire in me,
Converting all things into Thee;
Nought can resist, or not encrease the Flame.
Nay every Grief and every Fear,
Thou dost devour, unless thy stamp it bear.
Thy presence, like the crowned Basilisks breath,
All other Serpents puts to death.

5

As men in Hell are from Diseases free,
So from all other ills am I;
Free from their known Formality:
But all pains Eminently lye in Thee:
Alas, alas, I hope in vain
My conquer'd Soul from out thine hands to gain.
Since all the Natives there thou'st overthrown,
And planted Gar'isons of thine own.

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Maidenhead.

1

Thou worst estate even of the sex that's worst;
Therefore by Nature made at first,
T'attend the weakness of our birth!
Slight, outward Curtain to the Nuptial Bed!
Thou Case to buildings not yet finished!
Who like the Center of the Earth,
Dost heaviest things attract to thee,
Though Thou a point imaginary be.

2

A thing God thought for Mankind so unfit,
That his first Blessing ruin'd it.
Cold forzen Nurse of fiercest fires!
Who, like the parched plains of Africks sand,
(A steril, and a wild unlovely Land)
Art always scortcht with hot desires,
Yet barren quite, didst thou not bring
Monsters and Serpents forth thy self to sting!

3

Thou that bewitchest men, whilst thou dost dwell
Like a close Conj'urer in his Cell!
And fear'st the days discovering Eye!
No wonder 'tis at all that thou shouldst be
Such tedious and unpleasant Company,
Who liv'st so Melancholily!
Thou thing of subtile, slippery kind,
Which Women lose, and yet no Man can find.

4

Although I think thou never found wilt be,
Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee;
The search it self rewards the pains.
So, though the Chymick his great secret miss,
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)
Yet things well worth his toyle he gains:
And does his Charge and Labour pay
With good unsought exper'iments by the way.

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5

Say what thou wilt, Chastity is no more,
Thee, than a Porter is his Door.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themselves with Ramparts and with Walls,
Them only fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt,
Within so Hated, and so Lov'd without.

Impossibilities.

1

Impossibilities ? oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy Heart Captive home;
As easi'ly other dangers were o'rethrown,
As Cæsar after vanquisht Rome,
His little Asian foes did overcome.

2

True Lovers oft by Fortune are envy'd,
Oft Earth and Hell against them strive;
But Providence engages on their side,
And a good end at last does give;
At last Just Men and Lovers always thrive.

3

As stars (not powerful else) when they conjoin,
Change, as they please, the Worlds estate;
So thy Heart in Conjunction with mine,
Shall our own fortunes regulate;
And to our Stars themselves prescribe a Fate.

4

'Twould grieve me much to find some bold Romance,
That should two kind examples shew,
Which before us in wonders did advance;
Not, that I thought that story true,
But none should Fancy more, then I would Do.

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5

Through spight of our worst Enemies, thy Friends,
Through Local Banishment from Thee;
Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning Ends,
As easie shall my passage be,
As was the Amo'rous Youth's o're Helles Sea.

6

In vain the Winds, in vain the Billows rore;
In vain the Stars their aid deny'd:
He saw the Sestian Tower on th'other shore;
Shall th' Hellespont our Loves divide?
No, not th' Atlantick Oceans boundless Tide.

7

Such Seas betwixt us eas'ly conquer'd are;
But, gentle Maid, do not deny
To let thy Beams shine on me from afar;
And still the Taper let me 'espy:
For when thy Light goes out, I sink and dye.

Silence.

1

Curse on this Tongue, that has my Heart betray'd,
And his great Secret open laid!
For of all persons chiefly She,
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 'tis a thing might dang'rous grow,
Only in Her to Pity Me:
Since 'tis for Me to lose my Life more fit,
Than 'tis for Her to save and ransome it.

2

Ah, never more shall thy unwilling ear
My helpless story hear.
Discourse and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain,
That in my Breast does raign;
Silence perhaps may make it sleep:
I'll bind that Sore up, I did ill reveal;
The Wound, if once it Close, may chance to Heal.

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3

No, 'twill ne're heal; my Love will never dye,
Though it should speechless lye.
A River, e're it meet the Sea,
As well might stay its source,
As my Love can his course,
Unless it join and mix with Thee.
If any end or stop of it be found,
We know the Flood runs still, though under ground.

The Dissembler.

1

Unhurt , untoucht did I complain;
And terrifi'd all others with the pain:
But now I feel the mighty evil;
Ah, there's no fooling with the Devil!
So wanton men, whilst others they would fright,
Themselves have met a real Spright.

2

I thought, I'll swear, an handsome ly
Had been no sin at all in Poetry:
But now I suffer an Arrest,
For words were spoke by me in jest.
Dull, sottish God of Love, and can it be
Thou understand'st not Raillery?

3

Darts, and Wounds, and Flame, and Heat,
I nam'd but for the Rhime, or the Conceit.
Nor meant my Verse should raised be,
To this sad fame of Prophesie;
Truth gives a dull propriety to my stile,
And all the Metaphors does spoil.

4

In things, where Fancy much does reign,
'Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign.
The Play at last a Truth does grow,
And Custom into Nature go.
By this curst art of begging I became
Lame, with counterfeiting Lame.

133

5

My Lines of amorous desire
I wrote to kindle and blow others fire:
And 'twas a barbarous delight
My Fancy promis'd from the sight;
But now, by Love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the first do try.

The Inconstant.

1

I never yet could see that face
Which had no dart for me;
From fifteen years, to fifties space,
They all victorious be.
Love thou'rt a Devil; if I may call thee One,
For sure in Me thy name is Legion.

2

Colour, or Shape, good Limbs, or Face,
Goodness, or Wit in all I find.
In Motion or in Speech a grace,
If all fail, yet 'tis Woman-kind;
And I'm so weak, the Pistol need not be
Double, or treble charg'd to murder Me.

3

If Tall, the Name of Proper slays;
If Fair, she's pleasant as the Light;
If Low, her Prettiness does please;
If Black, what Lover loves not Night?
If Yellow-hair'd, I Love, lest it should be
Th' excuse to others for not loving Me.

4

The Fat, like Plenty, fills my heart;
The Lean, with Love makes me too so.
If Streight, her Body's Cupid's Dart
To me; if Crooked, 'tis his Bow.
Nay Age it self does me to rage encline,
And strength to Women gives, as well as Wine.

134

5

Just half as large as Charity
My richly-landed Love's become;
And judg'd aright is Constancy,
Though it take up a larger room:
Him, who loves always one, why should they call
More Constant, than the Man loves Always All?

6

Thus with unwearied wings I flee
Through all Loves Gardens and his Fields;
And, like the wise, industrious Bee,
No Weed but Honey to me yields!
Honey still spent this dil'igence still supplies,
Though I return not home with laden Thighs.

7

My Soul at first indeed did prove
Of pretty strength against a Dart;
Till I this Habit got of Love;
But my consum'd and wasted Heart
Once burnt to Tinder with a strong Desire,
Since that by every Spark is set on Fire.

The Constant.

1

Great, and wise Conqu'rour, who where e're
Thou com'st, dost fortifie, and settle there!
Who canst defend as well as get;
And never hadst one Quarter beat up yet;
Now thou art in, Thou ne're wilt part
With one inch of my vanquisht Heart;
For since thou took'st it by assault from Me,
'Tis Garison'd so strong with Thoughts of Thee,
It fears no beauteous Enemy.

2

Had thy charming strength been less,
I'had serv'd e're this an hundred Mistresses.
I'm better thus, nor would compound
To leave my Pris'on to be a Vagabound.

135

A Pris'on in which I still would be,
Though every door stood ope to Me.
In spight both of thy Coldness and thy Pride,
All Love is Marriage on thy Lovers side,
For only Death can them divide.

3

Close, narrow Chain, yet soft and kind,
As that which Spi'rits above to good does bind,
Gentle, and sweet Necessity,
Which does not force, but guide our Liberty!
Your love on Me were spent in vain,
Since my Love still could but remain
Just as it is; for what, alas can be
Added to that which hath Infinity
Both in Extent and Quality?

Her Name.

1

With more than Jewish Reverence as yet
Do I the Sacred Name conceal;
When, ye kind Stars, ah when will it be fit
This Gentle Mystery to reveal?
when will our Love be Nam'd, and we possess
That Christning as a Badge of Happiness?

2

So bold as yet no Verse of mine has been,
To wear that Gem on any Line;
Nor, till the happy Nuptial Muse be seen,
Shall any Stanza with it shine.
Rest, mighty Name, till then; for thou must be
Laid down by Her, e're taken up by Me.

3

Then all the fields and woods shall with it ring;
Then Ecchoes burden it shall be;
Then all the Birds in sev'eral notes shall sing,
And all the Rivers murmur Thee;
Then ev'ery wind the Sound shall upwards bear,
And softly whisper't to some Angels Ear.

136

4

Then shall thy Name through all my Verse be spread,
Thick as the flowers in Meadows lye,
And, when in future times they shall be read,
(As sure, I think, they will not dye)
If any Critick doubt that They be mine,
Men by that Stamp shall quickly know the Coyn.

5

Mean while I will not dare to make a Name
To represent thee by;
Adam (Gods Nomenclator) could not frame
One that enough should signifie.
Astræa or Cælia as unfit would prove
For Thee, as 'tis to call the Deity, Jove.

Weeping.

1

See where she sits, and in what comely wise,
Drops Tears more fair then others Eyes!
Ah, charming Maid, let not ill Fortune see
Th'attire thy sorrow wears,
Nor know the beauty of thy Tears:
For shee'l still come to dress her self in Thee.

2

As stars reflect on waters, so I spy
In every drop (methinks) her Eye.
The Baby, which lives there, and alwayes plays
In that illustrious sphære,
Like a Narcissus does appear,
Whilst in his flood the lovely Boy did gaze.

3

Ne're yet did I behold so glorious weather,
As this Sun-shine and Rain together.
Pray Heav'en her Forehead, that pure Hill of snow,
(For some such Fountain we must find,
To waters of so fair a kind)
Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below.

137

4

Ah, mighty Love, that it were inward Heat
Which made this precious Limbeck sweat!
But what, alas, ah what does it avail
That she weeps Tears so wondrous cold,
As scarce the Asses hoof can hold,
So cold, that I admire they fall not Hail.

Discretion.

1

Discreet ? what means this word Discreet?
A Curse on all Discretion!
This barbarous term you will not meet
In all Loves-Lexicon.

2

Joynture, Portion, Gold, Estate,
Houses, Houshold-stuff, or Land,
(The Low Conveniences of Fate)
Are Greek no Lovers understand.

3

Believe me, beauteous one, when Love
Enters into a brest,
The two first things it does remove,
Are Friends and Interest.

4

Passion's half blind, nor can endure
The careful, scrup'lous Eyes,
Or else I could not love, I'm sure,
One who in Love were wise.

5

Men, in such tempests tost about,
Will without grief or pain,
Cast all their goods and riches out,
Themselves their Port to gain.

138

6

As well might Martyrs, who do choose,
That sacred Death to take,
Mourn for the Clothes which they must lose,
When they're bound naked to the Stake.

The Waiting-Maid.

1.

Thy Maid? ah, find some nobler theame
Whereon thy doubts to place;
Nor by a low suspect blaspheme
The glories of thy face.

2.

Alas, she makes Thee shine so fair,
So exquisitely bright,
That her dim Lamp must disappear
Before thy potent Light.

3.

Three hours each morn in dressing Thee,
Maliciously are spent;
And make that Beauty Tyranny,
That's else a Civil Government.

4.

The'adorning thee with so much art,
Is but a barb'arous skill;
'Tis like the poys'oning of a Dart
Too apt before to kill.

5.

The Min'istring Angels none can see;
'Tis not their beauty'or face,
For which by men they worshipt be;
But their high Office and their place.
Thou art my Goddess, my Saint, She;
I pray to Her, only to pray to Thee.

139

Counsel.

1

Ah! what advice can I receive?
No, satisfie me first;
For who would Physick-potions give
To one that dyes with Thirst?

2

A little puff of breath we find,
Small fires can quench and kill;
But when they're great, the adverse wind
Does make them greater still.

3

Now whilst you speak, it moves me much;
But strait I'm just the same;
Alas, th'effect must needs be such
Of Cutting through a Flame.

The Cure.

1.

Come, Doctor, use thy roughest art,
Thou canst not cruel prove;
Cut, burn, and torture every part,
To heal me of my Love.

2.

There is no danger, if the pain
Should me to 'a Feaver bring;
Compar'd with Heats I now sustain,
A Feaver is so Cool a thing,
(Like drink which feaverish men desire)
That I should hope 'twould almost quench my Fire.

140

The Separation.

1

Ask me not what my Love shall do or be
(Love which is Soul to Body, and Soul of Me)
When I am sep'arated from thee;
Alas, I might as easily show,
What after Death the Soul will do;
'Twill last, I'm sure, and that is all we know.

2

The thing call'd Soul will never stir nor move,
But all that while a liveless Carkass prove,
For 'tis the Body of my Love;
Not that my Love will fly away,
But still continue, as, they say,
Sad troubled Ghosts about their Graves do stray.

The Tree.

1

7

The Physick made me worse with which I strove
This Mortal Ill t'expell,
As wholesome Med'icines the Disease improve,
There where they work not well.

Honour.

1

She Loves, and she confesses too;
There's then at last, no more to do.
The happy work's entirely done;
Enter the Town which thou hast won;
The Fruits of Conquest now begin;
Iô Triumph! Enter in.

2

What's this, ye Gods, what can it be?
Remains there still an Enemie?
Bold Honour stands up in the Gate,
And would yet Capitulate;
Have I o'recome all real foes,
And shall this Phantome me oppose?

145

3

Noisy Nothing! stalking Shade!
By what Witchcraft wert thou made?
Empty cause of Solid harms!
But I shall find out Counter-charms
Thy airy Devi'lship to remove
From this Circle here of Love.

4

Sure I shall rid my self of Thee
By the Nights obscurity,
And obscurer secresie.
Unlike to every other spright,
Thou attempt'st not men t'affright,
Nor appear'st but in the Light.

The Innocent Ill.

1

Though all thy gestures and discourses be
Coyn'd and stamp't by Modestie,
Though from thy Tongue ne're slipt away
One word which Nuns at th' Altar might not say,
Yet such a sweetness, such a grace
In all thy speech appear,
That what to th' Eye a beauteous face,
That thy Tongue is to th' Ear.
So cunningly it wounds the heart,
It strikes such heat through every part,
That thou a Tempter worse than Satan art.

2

Though in thy thoughts scarce any Tracks have bin
So much as of Original Sin,
Such charms thy Beauty wears as might
Desires in dying confest Saints excite.

146

Thou with strange Adulterie
Dost in each breast a Brothel keep;
Awake all men do lust for thee,
And some enjoy Thee when they sleep.
Ne're before did Woman live,
Who to such Multitudes did give
The Root and cause of Sin, but only Eve.

3

Though in thy breast so quick a Pity be,
That a Flies Death's a wound to thee.
Though savage, and rock-hearted those
Appear, that weep not ev'en Romances woes.
Yet ne're before was Tyrant known,
Whose rage was of so large extent,
The ills thou dost are whole thine own,
Thou'rt Principal and Instrument,
In all the deaths that come from you,
You do the treble Office do
Of Judge, of Tort'urer, and of Weapon too.

4

Thou lovely Instrument of angry Fate,
Which God did for our faults create!
Thou Pleasant, Universal Ill,
Which sweet as Health, yet like a Plague dost kill!
Thou kind, well-natur'ed Tyrannie!
Thou chast committer of a Rape!
Thou voluntary Destinie,
Which no man Can, or Would escape!
So gentle, and so glad to spare,
So wondrous good, and wondrous fair,
(We know) e'ven the Destroying Angels are.

147

DIALOGUE.

She.
What have we done? what cruel passion mov'd thee,
Thus to ruine her that lov'd Thee?
Me thou'hast robb'ed, but what art thou
Thy Self the richer now?
Shame succeeds the short-liv'd pleasure;
So soon is spent, and gone, this thy Ill-gotten Treasure.

He.
We'have done no harm; nor was it Theft in me,
But noblest Charity in Thee.
I'll the well-gotten Pleasure
Safe in my Mem'ory Treasure;
What though the Flower it self do wast,
The Essence from it drawn does long and sweeter last.

She.
No: I'm undone; my Honour Thou hast slain,
And nothing can restore't again.
Art and Labour to bestow,
Upon the Carcase of it now,
Is but t'embalm a body dead,
The Figure may remain, the Life and Beauty's fled.

He.
Never, my dear, was Honour yet undone,
By Love, but Indiscretion.
To th' wise it all things does allow;
And cares not What we do; but How.
Like Tapers shut in ancient Urns,
Unless it let in air, for ever shines and burns.

She.
Thou first perhaps who didst the fault commit,
Wilt make thy wicked boast of it.
For Men, with Roman pride, above
The Conquest, do the Triumph love:
Nor think a perfect Victo'ry gain'd,
Unless they through the streets their Captive lead enchain'd.

148

[He.]
Who e're his secret joys has open laid,
The Baud to his own Wife is made.
Beside what boast is left for me,
Whose whole wealth's a Gift from Thee?
'Tis you the Conqu'erour are, 'tis you
Who have not only ta'ne, but bound, and gag'd me too.

[She.]
Though publick pun'ishment we escape, the Sin
Will rack and torture us within:
Guilt and Sin our bosom bears;
And though fair, yet the Fruit appears,
That Worm which now the Core does wast,
When long t'has gnaw'd within will break the skin at last.

[He.]
That Thirsty Drink, that Hungry Food I sought,
That wounded Balm, is all my fault.
And thou in pity didst apply,
The kind and only remedy:
The Cause absolves the Crime; since Me
So mighty Force did move, so mighty Goodness Thee.

[She.]
Curse on thine Arts! methinks I Hate thee now;
And yet I'm sure I love Thee too!
I'm angry, but my wrath will prove,
More Innocent than did thy Love.
Thou hast this day undone me quite;
Yet wilt undo me more should'st thou not come at night.

Verses lost upon a Wager.

1

As soon hereafter will I wagers lay,
'Gainst what an Oracle shall say,
Fool, that I was, to venture to deny
A Tongue so us'd to Victory!
A Tongue so blest by Nature and by Art,
That never yet it spoke but gain'd an Heart:

149

Though what you said, had not been true
If spoke by any else but you.
Your speech will govern Destiny,
And Fate will change rather than you should Ly.

2

'Tis true if Humane Reason were the Guide,
Reason, methinks, was on my side,
But that's a Guide, alas, we must resign,
When th' Authority's Divine.
She said, she said her self it would be so;
And I, bold unbeliever, answer'd No,
Never so justly sure before
Errour the name of Blindness bore,
For whatsoe're the Question be,
There's no man that has eyes would bet for Me.

3

If Truth it self (as other Angels do
When they descend to humane view)
In a Material Form would daign to shine,
'Twould imitate or borrow Thine,
So daz'eling bright, yet so transparent clear,
So well proportion'd would the parts appear;
Happy the eye which Truth could see
Cloath'd in a shape like Thee,
But happier far the eye
Which could thy shape naked like Truth espy!

4

Yet this lost wager costs me nothing more
Than what I ow'ed to thee before.
Who would not venture for that debt to play
Which He were bound howe're to pay?
If Nature gave me power to write in verse,
She gave it me thy praises to reherse.
Thy wondrous Beauty and Thy Wit
Has such a Sov'ereign Right to it,
That no Mans Muse for publique vent is free,
Till she has paid her Customs first to Thee.

150

Bathing in the River.

1

The fish around her crowded, as they do
To the false light that treach'erous Fishers shew,
And all with as much ease might taken be,
As she at first took me.
For ne're did Light so clear
Among the waves appear,
Though ev'ery night the Sun himself set there.

2

Why to Mute Fish should'st thou thy self discover,
And not to me thy no less silent Lover?
As some from Men their buried Gold commit
To Ghosts that have no use of it!
Half their rich treasures so
Maids bury; and for ought we know
(Poor Ignorants) they're Mermaids all below.

3

The amo'rous Waves would fain about her stay,
But still new am'orous waves drive them away,
And with swift current to those joys they haste,
That do as swiftly waste,
I laught the wanton play to view,
But 'tis, alas, at Land so too,
And still old Lovers yield the place to new.

4

Kiss her, and as you part, you am'orous Waves
(My happier Rivals, and my fellow slaves)
Point to your flowry banks, and to her shew
The good your Bounties do;
Then tell her what your Pride doth cost,
And, how your use and beauty's lost,
When rig'orous Winter binds you up with Frost.

151

5

Tell her, her Beauties and her Youth, like Thee
Haste without stop to a devouring Sea;
Where they will mixt and undistinguisht ly
With all the meanest things that dy.
As in the Ocean Thou
No priviledge dost know
Above th' impurest streams that thither flow.

6

Tell her, kind flood, when this has made her sad,
Tell her there's yet one Rem'edy to be had;
Shew her how thou, though long since past, dost find
Thy self yet still behind,
Marriage (say to her) will bring
About the self-same thing,
But she, fond Maid, shuts and seals up the spring.

Love given over.

1

It is enough; of time, and pain
Hast thou consum'd in vain;
Leave, wretched Cowley, leave
Thy self with shadows to deceive;
Think that already lost which thou must never gain.

2

Three of thy lustiest and thy freshest years,
(Tost in storms of Hopes and Fears)
Like helpless Ships that be
Set on fire i'th' midst o'the Sea,
Have all been burnt in Love, and all been drown'd in Tears.

3

Resolve then on it, and by force or art
Free thy unlucky Heart;
Since Fate does disapprove
Th' ambition of thy Love.
And not one Star in heav'n offers to take thy part.

152

4

If e're I clear my Heart from this desire,
If e're it home to its breast retire,
It ne're shall wander more about,
Though thousand beauties call'd it out:
A Lover Burnt like me for ever dreads the fire.

5

The Pox, the Plague, and ev'ry small disease,
May come as oft as ill Fate please;
But Death and Love are never found
To give a Second Wound,
We're by those Serpents bit, but we're devour'd by these.

6

Alas, what comfort is't that I am grown
Secure of be'ing again o'rethrown?
Since such an Enemy needs not fear
Lest any else should quarter there,
Who has not only Sack't, but quite burnt down the Town.

FINIS.

153

Pindarique ODES,

Written in Imitation of the STILE & MANNER OF THE ODES OF PINDAR.

Hor. Ep. L. 1. 3. Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit haustus.

157

THE SECOND Olympique Ode OF PINDAR.

Written in praise of Theron Prince of Agrigentum (a famous City in Sicily built by his Ancestors) who in the seventy seventh Olympique won the Chariot-prize. He is commended from the Nobility of his Race (whose story is often toucht on) from his great Riches (an ordinary Common-Place in Pindar) from his Hospitality, Munificence, and other Virtues. The Ode (according to the constant custom of the Poet) consists more in Digressions, than in the main subject: And the Reader must not be chocqued to hear him speak so often of his own Muse; for that is a Liberty which this kind of Poetry can hardly live without.

1.

Queen of all Harmonious things,
Dancing Words, and Speaking Strings,
What God, what Hero wilt thou sing?
What happy Man to equal glories bring?
Begin, begin thy noble choice,
And let the Hills around reflect the Image of thy Voice.
Pisa does to Jove belong,
Jove and Pisa claim thy Song.
The fair First-fruits of War, th'Olympique Games,
Alcides offered up to Jove;
Alcides too thy strings may move;

158

But, oh, what Man to join with these can worthy prove!
Join Theron boldly to their sacred Names;
Theron the next honour claims;
Theron to no man gives place,
Is first in Pisa's, and in Virtue's Race;
Theron there, and he alone,
Ev'n his own swift Forefathers has outgone.

2.

They through rough ways, o're many stops they past,
Till on the fatal bank at last
They Agrigentum built, the beauteous Eye
Of fair-fac'ed Sicilie,
Which does it self i'th' River by
With Pride and Joy espy.
Then chearful Notes their Painted Years did sing,
And Wealth was one, and Honour th' other Wing.
Their genuine Virtues did more sweet and clear,
In Fortunes graceful dress appear.
To which great Son of Rhea, say
The Firm Word which forbids things to Decay.
If in Olympus Top, where Thou
Sit'st to behold thy Sacred Show,
If in Alpheus silver flight,
If in my Verse thou dost delight,
My Verse, O Rhea's Son, which is
Lofty as that, and smooth as This.

3.

For the past sufferings of this noble Race
(Since things once past, and fled out of thine hand,
Hearken no more to thy command)
Let present joys fill up their place,
And with Oblivions silent stroke deface
Of foregone Ills the very trace.
In no illustrious line
Do these happy changes shine
More brightly Theron than in thine.
So in the Chrystal Palaces
Of the blew-ey'd Nereides
Ino her endless youth does please,
And thanks her fall into the Seas.

159

Beauteous Semele does no less
Her cruel Midwife Thunder bless,
Whilst sporting with the Gods on high,
She' enjoys secure their Company,
Plays with Lightnings as they fly,
Nor trembles at the bright Embraces of the Deity.

4.

But Death did them from future dangers free,
What God (alas) will Caution be
For Living Mans securitie,
Or will ensure our Vessel in this faithless Sea?
Never did the Sun as yet
So healthful a fair day beget,
That Travelling Mortals might rely on it.
But Fortunes favour and her Spight
Rowl with alternate Waves like Day and Night.
Vicissitudes which thy great race pursue,
Ere since the fatal Son his Father slew,
And did old Oracles fulfill
Of Gods that cannot Lye, for they foretel but their own Will

5.

Erynnis saw't, and made in her own seed
The innocent Parricide to bleed,
She slew his wrathful Sons with mutual blows;
But better things did then succeed,
And brave Thersander in amends for what was past arose.
Brave Thersander was by none
In war, or warlike sports out-done.
Thou Theron his great virtues dost revive,
He in my Verse and Thee again does live.
Loud Olympus happy Thee,
Isthmus and Nemea does twice happy see.
For the well-natur'ed honour there
Which with thy Brother thou didst share,
Was to thee double grown
By not being all thine Own.
And those kind pious glories do deface
The old Fraternal quarrel of thy Race.

160

6.

Greatness of Mind and Fortune too
The' Olympique Trophees shew.
Both their several parts must do
In the noble Chase of Fame,
This without that is Blind, that without this is Lame.
Nor is fair Virtues Picture seen aright
But in Fortunes golden light.
Riches alone are of uncertain date,
And on short-Man long cannot wait.
The Vertuous make of them the best,
And put them out to Fame for Interest.
With a frail good they wisely buy
The solid Purchase of Eternity.
They whilst Lifes air they breath, consider well and know
Th'account they must hereafter give below.
Whereas th'unjust and Covetous above,
In deep unlovely vaults,
By the just decrees of Jove
Unrelenting torments prove,
The heavy Necessary effects of Voluntary Faults.

7.

Whilst in the Lands of unexhausted Light
O're which the God-like Suns unwearied sight,
Ne're winks in Clouds, or Sleeps in Night,
An endless Spring of Age the Good enjoy,
Where neither Want does pinch, nor Plenty cloy.
There neither Earth nor Sea they plow,
Nor ought to Labour ow
For Food, that whil'st it nour'ishes does decay,
And in the Lamp of Life consumes away.
Thrice had these men through mortal bodies past,
Did thrice the tryal undergo,
Till all their little Dross was purg'd at last,
The Furnace had no more to do.
Then in rich Saturns peaceful state
Were they for sacred Treasures plac'ed,
The Muse-discovered World of Islands Fortunate.

161

8.

Soft-footed Winds with tuneful voyces there
Dance through the perfum'd Air.
There Silver Rivers through enamell'd Meadows glide,
And golden Trees enrich their side.
Th'illustrious Leaves no dropping Autumn fear,
And Jewels for their fruit they bear.
Which by the Blest are gathered
For Bracelets to the Arm, and Garlands to the Head.
Here all the Hero's, and their Poets live,
Wise Rhadamanthus did the Sentence give,
Who for his justice was thought fit
With Soveraign Saturn on the Bench to sit.
Peleus here, and Cadmus reign,
Here great Achilles wrathful now no more,
Since his blest Mother (who before
Had try'd it on his Body' in vain)
Dipt now his Soul in Stygian Lake,
Which did from thence a divine Hardness take,
That does from Passion and from Vice Invulnerable make.

9.

To Theron, Muse, bring back thy wandring Song,
Whom those bright Troops expect impatiently;
And may they do so long.
How, noble Archer, do thy wanton Arrows fly
At all the Game that does but cross thine Eye?
Shoot, and spare not, for I see
Thy sounding Quiver can ne're emptied be;
Let Art use Method and good Husbandry,
Art lives on Natures Alms, is weak and poor;
Nature herself has unexhausted store,
Wallows in Wealth, and runs a turning Maze,
That no vulgar Eye can trace.
Art instead of mounting high,
About her humble Food does hov'ering fly,
Like the ignoble Crow, rapine and noise does love,
Whilst Nature, like the sacred Bird of Jove,
Now bears loud Thunder, and anon with silent joy
The beauteous Phrygian Boy,

162

Defeats the Strong, o'retakes the Flying prey;
And sometimes basks in th'open Flames of Day,
And sometimes too he shrowds,
His soaring wings among the Clouds.

10.

Leave, wanton Muse, thy roving flight,
To thy loud String the well-fletcht Arrow put,
Let [A]grigentum be the But,
And Theron be the White.
And lest the Name of Verse should give
Malitious men pretext to misbelieve,
By the Castalian waters swear,
(A sacred Oath no Poets dare
To take in vain,
No more then Gods do that of Styx prophane)
Swear in no City e're before,
A better man, or greater-soul'd was born,
Swear that Theron sure has sworn
No man near him should be poor.
Swear that none e're had such a graceful art,
Fortunes free gifts as freely to impart
With an Unenvious band, and an unbounded Heart.

11.

But in this thankless world the Givers
Are envi'ed ev'en by the Receivers.
'Tis now the cheap and frugal fashion,
Rather to Hide then Pay the Obligation.
Nay 'tis much worse than so,
It now an Artifice does grow,
Wrongs and outrages to do,
Lest men should think we ow.
Such Monsters, Theron, has thy Vertue found,
But all the malice they profess,
Thy secure Honour cannot wound:
For thy vast Bounties are so numberless,
That them or to Conceal, or else to Tell,
Is equally Impossible.

170

THE FIRST Nemeæan Ode OF PINDAR.

Chromius, the Son of Agesidamus, a young Gentleman of Sicilie, is celebrated for having won the prize of the Chariot-Race in the Nemeæan Games (a Solemnity instituted first to celebrate the Funeral of Opheltes, as is at large described by Statius; and afterwards continued every third year, with an extraordinary conflux of all Greece, and with incredible honor to the Conquerors in all the exercises there practised) upon which occasion, the Poet begins with the commendation of his Country, which I take to have been Ortygia (an Island belonging to Sicilie, and a part of Syracuse, being joyned to it by a Bridg) though the title of the Ode call him Ætnæan Chromius, perhaps because he was made Governour of that Town by Hieron. From thence he falls into the praise of Chromius his person, which he draws from his great end[ow]ments of Mind and Body, and most especially from his Hospitality, and the worthy use of his riches. He likens his beginning to that of Hercules, and according to his usual manner of being transported with any good Hint that meets him in his way, passing into a Digression of Hercules, and his slaying the two Serpents in his Cradle, concludes the Ode with that History.

1.

Beauteous Ortygia, the first breathing place
Of great Alpheus close and amorous race,
Fair Delos Sister, the Child-Bed
Of bright Latona, where she bred
The Original New-Moon,
Who saw'st her tender Forehead e're the Horns were grown.

171

Who like a gentle Scion, newly started out,
From Syracusa's side dost sprout.
Thee first my Song does greet
With numbers smooth and fleet,
As thine own Horses airy feet,
When they young Chromius Chariot drew,
And o're the Nemeæan race triumphant flew.
Jove will approve my Song and Me,
Jove is concern'd in Nemea, and in Thee.

2.

With Jove, my Song; this happy man,
Young Chromius too with Jove began;
From hence came his success,
Nor ought he therefore like it less,
Since the best Fame is that of Happiness.
For whom should we esteem above
The Men whom Gods do love.
'Tis them alone the Muse too does approve.
Lo how it makes this victory shine
O're all the fruitful Isle of Proserpine!
The Torches which the Mother brought
When the ravisht Maid she sought,
Appear'd not half so bright,
But cast a weaker light,
Through earth, and ayr, and Seas, and up to th'heavenly Vault.

3.

To thee, O Proserpine, this Isle I give,
Said Jove, and as he said,
Smil'd, and bent his gracious Head.
And thou, O Isle, said he, for ever thrive,
And keep the value of our Gift alive.
As Heaven with Stars, so let
The Countrey thick with Towns be set,
And numberless as Stars
Let all the Towns be then
Replenish'd thick with Men,
Wise in Peace, and Bold in Wars.

172

Of thousand glorious Towns the Nation,
Of thousand glorious Men each Town a Constellation.
Nor let their warlike Lawrel scorn,
With the Olympique Olive to be worn,
Whose gentler Honors do so well the Brows of Peace adorn.

4.

Go to great Syracuse, my Muse, and wait
At Chromius Hospitable Gate.
'Twill open wide to let thee in,
When thy Lyres voyce shall but begin.
Joy, Plenty, and free Welcome dwells within.
The Tyrian Beds thou shalt find ready drest,
The Ivory Table crowded with a Feast.
The Table which is free for every Guest,
No doubt will thee admit,
And feast more upon Thee, then Thou on it.
Chromius and Thou art met aright,
For as by Nature thou dost Write,
So he by Nature Loves, and does by Nature Fight.

5.

Nature herself, whilst in the womb he was,
Sow'd Strength and Beauty through the forming Mass,
They mov'ed the vital Lump in every part,
And carv'ed the Members out with wondrous art.
She fill'd his Mind with Courage, and with Wit,
And a vast Bounty, apt and fit
For the great Dowre which Fortune made to it.
'Tis Madness sure Treasures to hoord,
And make them useless, as in Mines, remain,
To lose th' Occasion Fortune does afford
Fame, and publick Love to gain.
Even for self-concerning ends,
'Tis wiser much to hoord up Friends.
Though Happy men the present goods possess,
Th' Unhappy have their share in future Hopes no less.

173

6.

How early has young Chromius begun
The Race of Virtue, and how swiftly run,
And born the noble Prize away,
Whilst other youths yet at the Barriere stay?
None but Alcides e're set earlier forth then He;
The God, his Fathers, Blood nought could restrain,
'Twas ripe at first, and did disdain
The slow advance of dull Humanitie,
The big-limm'ed Babe in his huge Cradle lay,
Too weighty to be rockt by Nurses hands,
Wrapt in purple swadling-bands.
When, Lo, by jealous Juno's fierce commands,
Two dreadful Serpents come
Rowling and hissing loud into the roome.
To the bold Babe they trace their bidden way,
Forth from their flaming eyes dread Lightnings went,
Their gaping Mouths did forked Tongues like Thunderbolts present.

7.

Some of th' amazed Women dropt down dead
With fear, some wildly fled
About the room, some into corners crept,
Where silently they shook and wept.
All naked from her bed the passionate Mother lept
To save or perish with her Child,
She trembled, and she cry'ed, the mighty Infant smil'd.
The mighty Infant seem'd well pleas'd
At his gay gilded foes,
And as their spotted necks up to the Cradle rose,
With his young warlike hands on both he seis'd;
In vain they rag'd, in vain they hist,
In vain their armed Tails they twist,
And angry Circles cast about,
Black Blood, and fiery Breath, and poys'nous Soul he squeezes out.

174

8.

With their drawn Swords
In ran Amphitryo, and the Theban Lords,
With doubting Wonder, and with troubled joy
They saw the conquering Boy
Laugh, and point downwards to his prey,
Where in deaths pangs, and their own gore they folding lay.
When wise Tiresias this beginning knew,
He told with ease the things t'ensue,
From what Monsters he should free
The Earth, the Ayr, and Sea,
What mighty Tyrants he should slay,
Greater Monsters far then They.
How much at Phlægras field the distrest Gods should ow
To their great Off-spring here below,
And how his Club should there outdo,
Apollos silver Bow, and his own Fathers Thunder too.

9.

And that the grateful Gods at last,
The race of his laborious Virtue past,
Heaven, which he sav'ed, should to him give,
Where marry'd to eternal Youth he should for ever live;
Drink Nectar with the Gods, and all his senses please
In their harmonious golden Palaces.
Walk with ineffable Delight
Through the thick Groves of never-withering Light,
And as he walks affright
The Lyon and the Bear,
Bull, Centaur, Scorpion, all the radiant Monsters there.

178

The Praise of Pindar.

In Imitation of Horace his second Ode, B. 4.

Pindarum quisquis studet æmulari, &c.

1.

Pindar is imitable by none;
The Phœnix Pindar is a vast Species alone.
Who e're but Dædalus with waxen wings could fly
And neither sink too low, nor soar too high?
What could he who follow'd claim,
But of vain boldness the unhappy fame,
And by his fall a Sea to name?
Pindars unnavigable Song
Like a swoln Flood from some steep Mountain pours along,
The Ocean meets with such a Voice
From his enlarged Mouth, as drowns the Oceans noise.

2.

So Pindar does new Words and Figures roul
Down his impetuous Dithyrambique Tide,
Which in no Channel deigns t'abide,
Which neither Banks nor Dikes controul.

179

Whether th' Immortal Gods he sings
In a no less Immortal strain,
Or the great Acts of God-descended Kings,
Who in his Numbers still survive and Reign.
Each rich embroidered Line,
Which their triumphant Brows around,
By his sacred Hand is bound,
Does all their starry Diadems outshine.

3.

Whether at Pisa's race he please
To carve in polisht Verse the Conque'rors Images,
Whether the Swift, the Skilful, or the Strong,
Be crowned in his Nimble, Artful, Vigorous Song:
Whether some brave young man's untimely fate
In words worth Dying for he celebrate,
Such mournful, and such pleasing words,
As joy to'his Mothers and his Mistress grief affords:
He bids him Live and Grow in fame,
Among the Stars he sticks his Name:
The Grave can but the Dross of him devour,
So small is Deaths, so great the Poets power.

4.

Lo, how th'obsequious Wind, and swelling Ayr
The Theban Swan does upwards bear
Into the walks of Clouds, where he does play,
And with extended Wings opens his liquid way.
Whilst, alas, my tim'erous Muse
Unambitious tracks pursues;
Does with weak unballast wings,
About the mossy Brooks and Springs;
About the Trees new-blossom'ed Heads,
About the Gardens painted Beds,
About the Fields and flowry Meads,
And all inferior beauteous things
Like the laborious Bee,
For little drops of Honey flee,
And there with Humble Sweets contents her Industrie.

182

The Resurrection.

1.

Not Winds to Voyagers at Sea,
Nor Showers to Earth more necessary be,
(Heav'ens vital seed cast on the womb of Earth
To give the fruitful Year a Birth)
Then Verse to Virtue, which can do
The Midwifes Office, and the Nurses too;
It feeds it strongly, and it cloathes it gay,
And when it dyes, with comely pride
Embalms it, and erects a Pyramide
That never will decay
Till Heaven it self shall melt away,
And nought behind it stay.

2.

Begin the Song, and strike the Living Lyre;
Lo how the Years to come, a numerous and well-fitted Quire,
All hand in hand do decently advance,
And to my Song with smooth and equal measures dance.
Whilst the dance lasts, how long so e're it be,
My Musicks voyce shall bear it companie.
Till all gentle Notes be drown'd
In the last Trumpets dreadful sound.
That to the Spheres themselves shall silence bring,
Untune the Universal String.
Then all the wide extended Sky,
And all th'harmonious Worlds on high,
And Virgils sacred work shall dy.
And he himself shall see in one Fire shine
Rich Natures ancient Troy, though built by Hands Divine.

3.

Whom Thunders dismal noise,
And all that Prophets and Apostles louder spake,
And all the Creatures plain conspiring voyce,
Could not whilst they liv'ed, awake,
This mightier sound shall make
When Dead t'arise,
And open Tombs, and open Eyes

183

To the long Sluggards of five thousand years.
This mightier Sound shall make its Hearers Ears.
Then shall the scatter'ed Atomes crowding come
Back to their Ancient Home,
Some from Birds, from Fishes some,
Some from Earth, and some from Seas,
Some from Beasts, and some from Trees.
Some descend from Clouds on high,
Some from Metals upwards fly,
And where th'attending Soul naked, and shivering stands,
Meet, salute, and joyn their hands.
As disperst Souldiers at the Trumpets call,
Hast to their Colours all.
Unhappy most, like Tortur'ed Men,
Their Joynts new set, to be new rackt agen.
To Mountains they for shelter pray,
The Mountains shake, and run about no less confus'd then They.

4.

Stop, stop, my Muse, allay thy vig'orous heat,
Kindled at a Hint so Great.
Hold thy Pindarique Pegasus closely in,
Which does to rage begin,
And this steep Hill would gallop up with violent course,
'Tis an unruly, and a hard-Mouth'd Horse,
Fierce, and unbroken yet,
Impatient of the Spur or Bit.
Now praunces stately, and anon flies o're the place,
Disdains the servile Law of any settled pace,
Conscious and proud of his own natural force.
'Twill no unskilful Touch endure,
But flings Writer and Reader too that sits not sure.

184

The Muse.

1.

Go, the rich Chariot instantly prepare;
The Queen, my Muse, will take the air;
Unruly Phansie with strong Judgment trace,
Put in nimble-footed Wit,
Smooth-pac'ed Eloquence joyn with it,
Sound Memory with young Invention place,
Harness all the winged race.
Let the Postillion Nature mount, and let
The Coachman Art be set.

185

And let the airy Footmen running all beside,
Make a long row of goodly pride.
Figures, Conceits, Raptures, and Sentences
In a well-worded dress.
And innocent Loves, and pleasant Truths, and useful Lies,
In all their gaudy Liveries.
Mount, glorious Queen, thy travelling Throne,
And bid it to put on;
For long, though cheerful, is the way,
And Life, alas, allows but one ill winters Day.

2.

Where never Foot of Man, or Hoof of Beast,
The passage prest,
Where never Fish did fly,
And with short silver wings cut the low liquid Sky.
Where Bird with painted Oars did nere
Row through the trackless Ocean of the Air.
Where never yet did pry
The busie Mornings curious Ey:
The Wheels of thy bold Coach pass quick and free;
And all's an open Road to Thee.
Whatever God did Say,
Is all thy plain and smooth, uninterrupted way.
Nay ev'n beyond his works thy Voyages are known,
Thou 'hast thousand worlds too of thine own.
Thou speakst, great Queen, in the same stile as He,
And a New world leaps forth when Thou say'st, Let it Be.

3.

Thou fadom'est the deep Gulf of Ages past,
And canst pluck up with ease
The years which Thou dost please,
Like shipwrackt Treasures by rude Tempests cast
Long since into the Sea,
Brought up again to light and publique Use by Thee.
Nor dost thou only Dive so low,
But Fly
With an unwearied Wing the other way on high,
Where Fates among the Stars do grow;

186

There into the close Nests of Time do'st peep,
And there with piercing Eye,
Through the firm shell, and the thick White do'st spie,
Years to come a forming lie,
Close in their sacred Secondine asleep,
Till hatcht by the Suns vital heat
Which o're them yet does brooding set
They Life and Motion get,
And ripe at last with vigorous might
Break through the Shell, and take their everlasting Flight.

4.

And sure we may
The same too of the Present say,
If Past, and Future Times do thee obey.
Thou stopst this Current, and dost make
This running River settle like a Lake,
Thy certain hand holds fast this slippery Snake.
The Fruit which does so quickly wast,
Men scarce can see it, much less tast,
Thou Comfitest in Sweets to make it last.
This shining piece of Ice
Which melts so soon away
With the Suns ray,
Thy Verse does solidate and Chrystallize,
Till it a lasting Mirror be.
Nay thy Immortal Rhyme
Makes this one short Point of Time,
To fill up half the Orb of Round Eternity.

188

To Mr. Hobs.

1.

Vast Bodies of Philosophie
I oft have seen, and read,
But all are Bodies Dead,
Or Bodies by Art fashioned;
I never yet the Living Soul could see,
But in thy Books and Thee.
'Tis onely God can know
Whether the fair Idea thou dost show
Agree intirely with his own or no.
This I dare boldly tell,
'Tis so like Truth 'twill serve our turn as well.
Just, as in Nature thy Proportions be,
As full of Concord their Varietie,
As firm the parts upon their Center rest,
And all so Solid are that they at least
As much as Nature, Emptiness detest.

2.

Long did the mighty Stagirite retain
The universal Intellectual reign,
Saw his own Countreys short-liv'ed Leopard slain;
The stronger Roman-Eagle did out-fly,
Oftner renewed his Age, and saw that Dy.
Mecha it self, in spite of Mahumet possest,
And chas'ed by a wild Deluge from the East,
His Monarchy new planted in the West.
But as in time each great imperial race
Degenerates, and gives some new one place:
So did this noble Empire wast,
Sunk by degrees from glories past,
And in the School-mens hands it perisht quite at last.
Then nought but Words it grew,
And those all Barb'arous too.
It perisht, and it vanisht there,
The Life and Soul breath'd out, became but empty Air.

189

3.

The Fields which answer'd well the Ancients Plow,
Spent and out-worn return no Harvest now,
In barren Age wild and unglorious lie,
And boast of past Fertilitie,
The poor relief of Present Povertie.
Food and Fruit we now must want
Unless new Lands we plant.
We break up Tombs with Sacrilegious hands;
Old Rubbish we remove;
To walk in Ruines, like vain Ghosts, we love,
And with fond Divining Wands
We search among the Dead
For Treasures Buried,
Whilst still the Liberal Earth does hold
So many Virgin Mines of undiscover'ed Gold.

4.

The Baltique, Euxin, and the Caspian,
And slender-limb'ed Mediterrean,
Seem narrow Creeks to Thee, and only fit
For the poor wretched Fisher-boats of Wit.
Thy nobler Vessel the vast Ocean tries,
And nothing sees but Seas and Skies,
Till unknown Regions it descries,
Thou great Columbus of the Golden Lands of new Philosophies.
Thy task was harder much then his,
For thy learn'd America is
Not onely found out first by Thee,
And rudely left to Future Industrie,
But thy Eloquence and thy Wit,
Has planted, peopled, built, and civiliz'd it.

5.

I little thought before,
(Nor being my own self so poor
Could comprehend so vast a store)
That all the Wardrobe of rich Eloquence,
Could have afforded half enuff,
Of bright, of new, and lasting stuff,
To cloath the mighty Limbs of thy Gigantique Sence.

190

Thy solid Reason like the shield from heaven
To the Trojan Heroe given,
Too strong to take a mark from any mortal dart,
Yet shines with Gold and Gems in every part,
And Wonders on it grave'd by the learn'd hand of Art,
A shield that gives delight
Even to the enemies sight,
Then when they're sure to lose the Combat by't.

6.

Nor can the Snow which now cold Age does shed
Upon thy reverend Head,
Quench or allay the noble Fires within,
But all which thou hast bin,
And all that Youth can be thou'rt yet,
So fully still dost Thou
Enjoy the Manhood, and the Bloom of Wit,
And all the Natural Heat, but not the Feaver too.
So Contraries on Ætna's top conspire,
Here hoary Frosts, and by them breaks out Fire.
A secure peace the faithful Neighbors keep,
Th'emboldned Snow next to the Flame does sleep.
And if we weigh, like Thee,
Nature, and Causes, we shall see
That thus it needs must be,
To things Immortal Time can do no wrong,
And that which never is to Dye, for ever must be Young.

192

Destinie.

Hoc quoq; Fatale est sic ipsum expendere Fatum.
Manil.

1.

Strange and unnatural! lets stay and see
This Pageant of a Prodigie.
Lo, of themselves th'enlivened Chesmen move,
Lo, the unbred, ill-organ'd Pieces prove,
As full of Art, and Industrie,
Of Courage and of Policie,
As we our selves who think ther's nothing Wise but We.
Here a proud Pawn I'admire
That still advancing higher
At top of all became
Another Thing and Name.
Here I'm amaz'ed at th'actions of a Knight,
That does bold wonders in the fight.
Here I the losing party blame
For those false Moves that break the Game,
That to their Grave the Bag, the conquered Pieces bring,
And above all, th'ill Conduct of the Mated King.

2.

What e're these seem, what e're Philosophie
And Sense or Reason tell (said I)
These Things have Life, Election, Libertie;
'Tis their own Wisdom molds their State,
Their Faults and Virtues make their Fate.
They do, they do (said I) but strait

193

Lo from my'enlightned Eyes the Mists and shadows fell
That hinder Spirits from being Visible.
And, lo, I saw two Angels plaid the Mate.
With Man, alas, no otherwise it proves,
An unseen Hand makes all their Moves.
And some are Great, and some are Small,
Some climb to good, some from good Fortune fall,
Some Wisemen, and some Fools we call,
Figures, alas, of Speech, for Desti'ny plays us all.

3.

Me from the womb the Midwife Muse did take:
She cut my Navel, washt me, and mine Head
With her own Hands she Fashioned;
She did a Covenant with me make,
And circumcis'ed my tender Soul, and thus she spake,
Thou of my Church shalt be,
Hate and renounce (said she)
Wealth, Honor, Pleasures, all the World for Me.
Thou neither great at Court, nor in the War,
Nor at th'Exchange shalt be, nor at the wrangling Bar.
Content thy self with the small Barren Praise,
That neglected Verse does raise.
She spake, and all my years to come
Took their unlucky Doom.
Their several ways of Life let others chuse,
Their several pleasures let them use,
But I was born for Love, and for a Muse.

4.

With Fate what boots it to contend?
Such I began, such am, and so must end.
The Star that did my Being frame,
Was but a Lambent Flame,
And some small Light it did dispence,
But neither Heat nor Influence.
No Matter, Cowley, let proud Fortune see,
That thou canst her despise no less then she does Thee.

194

Let all her gifts the portion be
Of Folly, Lust, and Flattery,
Fraud, Extortion, Calumnie,
Murder, Infidelitie,
Rebellion and Hypocrisie.
Do Thou nor grieve nor blush to be,
As all th'inspired tuneful Men,
And all thy great Forefathers were from Homer down to Ben.

195

Brutus.

Excellent Brutus, of all humane race,
The best till Nature was improv'ed by Grace,
Till men above themselves Faith raised more
Then Reason above Beasts before.
Virtue was thy Lifes Center, and from thence
Did silently and constantly dispense
The gentle vigorous Influence
To all the wide and fair Circumference:
And all the parts upon it lean'd so easilie,
Obey'd the mighty force so willinglie
That none could discord or disorder see
In all their Contrarietie.
Each had his motion natural and free,
And the Whole no more mov'ed then the whole World could be.

2.

From thy strict rule some think that thou didst swerve
(Mistaken Honest men) in Cæsars blood;
What Mercy could the Tyrants Life deserve,
From him who kill'd Himself rather then serve?
Th'Heroick Exaltations of Good
Are so far from Understood,
We count them Vice: alas our Sight's so ill,
That things which swiftest Move seem to stand still.
We look not upon Virtue in her height,
On her supreme Idea, brave and bright,
In the Original Light:
But as her Beams reflected pass
Through our own Nature or ill Customs Glass.
And 'tis no wonder so,
If with dejected Ey
In standing Pools we seek the sky,
That Stars so high above should seem to us below.

196

3.

Can we stand by and see
Our Mother robb'ed, and bound, and ravisht be,
Yet not to her assistance stir,
Pleas'd with the Strength and Beauty of the Ravisher?
Or shall we fear to kill him, if before
The cancell'd Name of Friend he bore?
Ingrateful Brutus do they call?
Ingrateful Cæsar who could Rome enthrall!
An act more barbarous and unnatural
(In th'exact ballance of true Virtue try'de)
Then his Successor Nero's Parricide!
There's none but Brutus could deserve
That all men else should wish to serve,
And Cæsars usurpt place to him should proffer;
None can deserve't but he who would refuse the offer.

4.

Ill Fate assum'ed a Body thee t'affright,
And wrapt itself i'th' terrors of the night,
I'll meet thee at Philippi, said the Spright;
I'll meet thee there, saidst Thou,
With such a voyce, and such a brow,
As put the trembling Ghost to sudden flight,
It vanisht as a Tapers light
Goes out when Spirits appear in sight.
One would have thought t'had heard the morning crow,
Or seen her well-appointed Star
Come marching up the Eastern Hill afar.
Nor durst it in Philippi's field appear,
But unseen attaqu'ed thee there.
Had it presum'ed in any shape thee to oppose,
Thou wouldst have foro'ed it back upon thy foes:
Or slain't like Cæsar, though it be
A Conqu'eror and a Monarch mightier far then He.

5.

What joy can humane things to us afford,
When we see perish thus by odde events,
Ill men, and wretched Accidents,
The best Cause and best Man that ever drew a Sword?

197

When we see
The false Octavius, and wild Antonie,
God-like Brutus, conquer Thee?
What can we say but thine own Tragick Word,
That Virtue, which had worshipt been by thee
As the most solid Good, and greatest Deitie,
By this fatal proof became
An Idol only, and a Name,
Hold noble Brutus and restrain
The bold voyce of thy generous Disdain:
These mighty Gulphs are yet
Too deep for all thy Judgment and thy Wit.
The Time's set forth already which shall quell
Stiff Reason, when it offers to Rebell.
Which these great Secrets shall unseal,
And new Philosophies reveal.
A few years more, so soon hadst thou not dy'ed,
Would have confounded Humane Virtues pride,
And shew'd thee a God crucifi'ed.

To Dr. Scarborough.

How long, alas! has our mad Nation been
Of Epidemick War the Tragick Scene,
When Slaughter all the while
Seem'd like its Sea, embracing round the Isle,
With Tempests, and red waves, Noise, and Affright?
Albion no more, nor to be nam'ed from white!
What Province, or what City did it spare?
It, like a Plague, infected all the Aire.
Sure the unpeopled Land
Would now untill'd, desert, and naked stand,
Had Gods All-mighty hand
At the same time let loose Diseases rage
Their Civil Wars in Man to wage.
But Thou by Heaven wert sent
This Desolation to prevent,
A Medi'cine and a Counter-poyson to the Age,

198

Scarce could the Sword dispatch more to the Grave,
Then Thou didst save;
By wondrous Art, and by successful care
The Ruines of a Civil War thou dost alone repair.

2.

The Inundations of all Liquid pain,
And Deluge Dropsie thou do'est drain.
Feavers so hot that one would say
Thou mightst as soon Hell-fires allay
(The Damn'd scarce more incurable then They)
Thou dost so temper, that we find
Like Gold the Body but refin'd;
No unhealthful dross behind.
The subtle Ague, that for sureness sake
Takes its own times th' assault to make,
And at each battery the whole Fort does shake,
When thy strong Guards, and works it spies,
Trembles for it self, and flies.
The cruel Stone that restless pain
That's sometimes roll'd away in vain,
But still, like Sisyphus his stone, returns again,
Thou break'st and meltest by learn'd Juyces force,
(A greater work, though short the way appear,
Then Hannibals by Vinegar)
Oppressed Natures necessary course
It stops in vain, like Moses, Thou
Strik'st but the Rock, and straight the Waters freely flow.

3.

The Indian Son of Lust, (that foul Disease
Which did on this his new-found World, but lately seise;
Yet since a Tyrannie has planted here,
As wide and Cruel as the Spaniard there)
Is so quite rooted out by Thee,
That thy Patients seem to be
Restor'ed not to Health onely, but Virginitie.
The Plague it self, that proud Imperial Ill
Which destroys Towns, and does whole Armies kill,

199

If thou but succour the besieged Heart,
Calls all its poysons forth, and does depart,
As if it fear'd no less thy Art,
Then Aarons Incense, or then Phineas dart.
What need there here repeated be by me
The vast and barbarous Lexicon
Of Mans Infirmitie?
At thy strong charms it must be gon
Though a Disease, as well as Devil, were called Leagion.

4.

From creeping Moss to soaring Cedar thou
Dost all the powers and several Portions know,
Which Father-Sun, Mother-Earth below
On their green Infants here bestow.
Can'st all those Magick Virtues from them draw,
That keep Disease, and Death in aw.
Who whilst thy wondrous skill in Plants they see,
Fear lest the Tree of Life should be found out by Thee.
And Thy well-travell'd knowledge too does give
No less account of th'Empire Sensitive,
Chiefly of Man, whose Body is
That active Souls Metropolis.
As the great Artist in his Sphere of Glass
Saw the whole Scene of Heav'enly Motions pass,
So thou know'st all so well that's done within,
As if some living Chrystal Man thou'dst seen.

5.

Nor does this Science make thy Crown alone,
But Whole Apollo is thine owne.
His gentler Arts, belov'ed in vain by Mee,
Are wedded and enjoy'd by Thee.
Thou'rt by this noble Mixture free
From the Physitians frequent Maladie,
Fantastick Incivilitie,
There are who all their Patients chagrin have,
As if they took each morn worse potions then they gave.
And this great race of Learning thou hast runne,
E're that of Life be half yet done.

200

Thou see'st thy self still fresh and strong,
And like t'enjoy thy Conquests long.
The first fam'd Aphorism thy great Master spoke,
Did he live now he would revoke,
And better things of Man report;
For thou do'est make Life long, and Art but short.

6.

Ah, learned friend, it grieves me, when I think
That Thou with all thy Art must dy
As certainly as I.
And all thy noble Reparations sink
Into the sure-wrought Mine of treacherous Mortality.
Like Archimedes, hon'orably in vain,
Thou holdst out Towns that must at last be ta'ne,
And Thou thy self their great Defender slain.
Let's ev'en compound, and for the Present Live,
'Tis all the Ready Money Fate can give,
Unbend sometimes thy restless care;
And let thy Friends so happy be
T'enjoy at once their Health and Thee.
Some hours at least to thine own pleasures spare.
Since the whole stock may soon exhausted be,
Bestow't not all in Charitie.
Let Nature, and let Art do what they please,
When all's done, Life is an Incurable Disease.

201

Life and Fame.

1.

Oh Life, thou Nothings younger Brother!
So like, that one might take One for the other!
What's Some Body, or No Body?
In all the Cobwebs of the Schoolmens trade,

202

We no such nice Distinction woven see,
As 'tis To be, or Not to Be.
Dream of a Shadow! a Reflection made
From the false glories of the gay reflected Bow,
Is a more solid thing then Thou.
Vain weak-built Isthmus, which dost proudly rise
Up betwixt two Eternities;
Yet canst nor Wave nor Wind sustain,
But broken and orewhelm'd, the endless Oceans meet again.

2.

And with what rare Inventions do we strive,
Our selves then to survive?
Wise, subtle Arts, and such as well befit
That Nothing Mans no Wit.
Some with vast costly Tombs would purchase it,
And by the proofs of Death pretend to Live.
Here lies the Great—False Marble, where?
Nothing but small, and sordid Dust lies there.
Some build enormous Mountain-Palaces,
The Fools and Architects to please:
A lasting Life in well-hew'en Stone they rear:
So he who on th' Egyptian shore,
Was slain so many hundred years before,
Lives still (Oh Life most happy and most dear!
Oh Life that Epicures envy to hear!)
Lives in the dropping Ruines of his Ampitheater.

3.

His Father in Law an higher place does claim
In the Seraphique Entity of Fame.
He since that Toy his Death,
Does fill all Mouths, and breathes in all mens Breath.
'Tis true, the two Immortal Syllables remain,
But, Oh ye learned men, explain,
What Essence, what Existence this,
What Substance, what Subsistence, what Hypostasis
In Six poor Letters is?
In those alone does the Great Cæsar live,
'Tis all the Conquered World could give.

203

We Poets madder yet then all,
With a refin'ed Phantastick Vanitie,
Think we not onely Have, but Give Eternitie.
Fain would I see that Prodigal,
Who his To-morrow would bestow,
For all old Homers Life e're since he Dy'ed till now.

204

The Extasie.

1

I leave Mortality, and things below;
I have no time in Complements to wast,
Farewel to'ye all in hast,
For I am call'd to go.
A Whirlwind bears up my dull Feet,
Th'officious Clouds beneath them meet.
And (Lo!) I mount, and (Lo!)
How small the biggest Parts of Earths proud Tittle show!

2

Where shall I find the noble Brittish Land?
Lo, I at last a Northern Spec espie,
Which in the Sea does lie,
And seems a Grain o'th' Sand!
For this will any sin, or Bleed?
Of Civil Wars is this the Meed?
And is it this, alas, which we
(Oh Irony of Words!) do call Great Britanie?

3

I pass by th'arched Magazins, which hold
Th' eternal stores of Frost, and Rain, and Snow;
Dry, and secure I go,
Nor shake with Fear, or Cold.
Without affright or wonder
I meet Clouds charg'd with Thunder,
And Lightnings in my way
Like harmless Lambent Fiers about my Temples play.

4

Now into'a gentle Sea of rowling Flame
I'm plung'ed, and still mount higher there,
As Flames mount up through aire.
So perfect, yet so tame,
So great, so pure, so bright a fire
Was that unfortunate desire,
My faithful Breast did cover,
Then, when I was of late a wretched Mortal Lover.

205

5

Through several Orbs which one fair Planet bear,
Where I behold distinctly as I pass
The Hints of Galilæos Glass,
I touch at last the spangled Sphære.
Here all th'extended Skie
Is but one Galaxie,
'Tis all so bright and gay,
And the joynt Eyes of Night make up a perfect Day.

6

Where am I now? Angels and God is here;
An unexhausted Ocean of delight
Swallows my senses quite,
And drowns all What, or How, or Where.
Not Paul, who first did thither pass,
And this great Worlds Columbus was,
The tyrannous pleasure could express.
Oh 'tis too much for Man! but let it ne're be less.

7

The mighty' Elijah mounted so on high,
That second Man, who leapt the Ditch where all
The rest of Mankind fall,
And went not downwards to the skie.
With much of pomp and show
(As Conquering Kings in Triumph go)
Did he to Heav'en approach,
And wondrous was his Way, and wondrous was his Coach.

8

'Twas gawdy all, and rich in every part,
Of Essences of Gems, and Spirit of Gold
Was its substantial mold;
Drawn forth by Chymique Angels art.
Here with Moon-beams 'twas silver'd bright,
There double-gilt with the Suns light
And mystique Shapes cut round in it,
Figures that did transcend a Vulgar Angels wit.

206

9

The Horses were of temper'd Lightning made,
Of all that in Heav'ens beauteous Pastures feed,
The noblest, sprightfulst breed,
And flaming Mains their Necks array'd.
They all were shod with Diamond,
Not such as here are found,
But such light solid ones as shine
On the Transparent Rocks o'th' Heaven Chrystalline.

10

Thus mounted the great Prophet to the skies;
Astonisht Men who oft had seen Stars fall,
Or that which so they call,
Wondred from hence to see one rise.
The soft Clouds melted him a way,
The Snow and Frosts which in it lay
A while the sacred footsteps bore,
The Wheels and Horses Hoofs hizz'd as they past them ore.

11

He past by th' Moon and Planets, and did fright
All the Worlds there which at this Meteor gaz'ed,
And their Astrologers amaz'd
With th'unexampled sight.
But where he stopt will ne're be known,
Till Phœnix Nature aged grown
To'a better Being do aspire,
And mount herself, like Him, to' Eternitie in Fire.

To the New Year.

1.

Great Janus, who dost sure my Mistris view
With all thine eyes, yet think'st them all too few:
If thy Fore-face do see
No better things prepar'ed for me,
Then did thy Face behind,
If still her Breast must shut against me be

207

(For 'tis not Peace that Temples Gate does bind)
Oh let my Life, if thou so many deaths a coming find,
With thine old year its voyage take
Born down, that stream of Time which no return can make.

2.

Alas, what need I thus to pray?
Th'old avaritious year
Whether I would or no, will bear
At least a part of Me away.
His well-horst Troops, the Months, and Days, and Hours,
Though never any where they stay,
Make in their passage all their Prey.
The Months, Days, Hours that march i'th' Rear can find
Nought of Value left behind.
All the good Wine of Life our drunken youth devours;
Sowreness and Lees, which to the bottom sink,
Remain for latter years to Drink.
Until some one offended with the taste
The Vessel breaks, and out the wretched Reliques run at last.

3.

If then, young year, thou needs must come,
(For in Times fruitful womb
The Birth beyond its Time can never tarry,
Nor ever can miscarry)
Choose thy Attendants well; for 'tis not Thee
We fear, but 'tis thy Companie,
Let neither Loss of Friends, or Fame, or Libertie,
Nor pining Sickness, nor tormenting Pain,
Nor Sadness, nor uncleanly Povertie,
Be seen among thy Train,
Nor let thy Livery be
Either black Sin, or gawdy vanitie;
Nay, if thou lov'st me, gentle Year,
Let not so much as Love be there:
Vain fruitless Love, I mean; for, gentle Year,
Although I feare,
There's of this Caution little need,
Yet, gentle Year, take heed

208

How thou dost make
Such a Mistake.
Such Love I mean alone
As by thy cruel Predecessors has been shown,
For though I'have too much cause to doubt it,
I fain would try for once if Life can Live without it.

4.

Into the Future Times why do we pry,
And seek to Antedate our Misery?
Like Jealous men why are we longing still
To See the thing which onely seeing makes an Ill?
'Tis well the Face is vail'd; for 'twere a Sight
That would even Happiest men affright,
And something still they'd spy that would destroy
The past and Present Joy
In whatsoever Character;
The Book of Fate is writ,
'Tis well we understand not it,
We should grow Mad with little Learning there.
Upon the Brink of every Ill we did Foresee,
Undecently and foolishlie
We should stand shivering, and but slowly venter
The Fatal Flood to enter,
Since willing, or unwilling we must do it,
They feel least cold and pain who plunge at once into it.

209

Life.

Nascentes Morimur. Manil.

1.

We're ill by these Grammarians us'd;
We are abus'd by Words, grosly abus'd;
From the Maternal Tomb,
To the Graves fruitful Womb,
We call here Life; but Life's a name
That nothing here can truly claim:
This wretched Inn, where we scarce stay to bait:
We call our Dwelling-place;
We call one Step a Race:
But Angels in their full enlightned state,
Angels who Live, and know what 'tis to Be,
Who all the nonsense of our Language see,
Who speak Things, and our Words, their ill-drawn Pictures scorn,
When we by'a foolish Figure say,
Behold an old man Dead! then they
Speak properly, and cry, Behold a man-child born.

2.

My Eyes are opened, and I see
Through the Transparent Fallacie:
Because we seem wisely to talk
Like men of business; and for business walk
From place to place,
And mighty voyages we take,
And mighty Journeys seem to make,
O're Sea and Land, the little Point that has no space.
Because we fight, and Battels gain;
Some Captives call, and say, the rest are slain.
Because we heap up yellow Earth, and so,
Rich, valiant, wise, and vertuous seem to grow;
Because we draw a long Nobilitie
From Hieroglyphick proofs of Herauldrie,
And impudently talk of a Posteritie,
And, like Egyptian Chroniclers,
Who write of twenty thousand years,

210

With Maravedies make the' account,
That single Time might to a sum amount,
We grow at last by Custom to believe,
That really we Live:
Whilst all these Shadows that for Things we take,
Are but the empty Dreams which in Deaths sleep we make.

3.

But these fantastique errors of our Dream,
Lead us to solid wrong;
We pray God, our Friends torments to prolong,
And wish uncharitably for them,
To be as long a Dying as Methusalem.
The ripened Soul longs from his pris'on to come,
But we would seal, and sow up, if we could, the Womb.
We seek to close and plaster up by Art
The cracks and breaches of the' extended Shell,
And in that narrow Cell
Would rudely force to dwell,
The noble vigorous Bird already wing'd to part.

211

The 34. Chapter of the Prophet Isaiah.

1.

Awake, and with attention hear,
Thou drowsie World, for it concerns thee near;
Awake, I say, and listen well,
To what from God, I, his loud Prophet, tell.
Bid both the Poles suppress their stormy noise,
And bid the roaring Sea contain its voyce.
Be still thou Sea, be still thou Air and Earth,
Still, as old Chaos, before Motions birth,
A dreadful Host of Judgments is gone out;
In strength and number more
Then e're was rais'd by God before,
To scourge the Rebel World, and march it round about.

212

2.

I see the Sword of God brandisht above;
And from it streams a dismal ray;
I see the Scabbard cast away.
How red anon with Slaughter will it prove!
How will it sweat and reek in blood!
How will the Scarlet-glutton be o'regorged with his food!
And devour all the mighty Feast!
Nothing soon but Bones will rest.
God does a solemn Sacrifice prepare;
But not of Oxen, nor of Rams,
Not of Kids, nor of their Dams,
Not of Heifers, nor of Lams.
The Altar all the Land, and all Men in't the Victims are,
Since wicked Mens more guilty blood to spare,
The Beasts so long have sacrificed bin,
Since Men their Birth-right forfeit still by Sin,
'Tis fit at last Beasts their Revenge should have,
And Sacrificed Men their better Brethren save.

3.

So will they fall, so will they flee;
Such will the Creatures wild distraction be,
When at the final Doom,
Nature and Time shall both be Slain,
Shall struggle with Deaths pangs in vain,
And the whole world their Funeral Pile become.
The wide-stretcht Scrowl of Heaven, which we
Immortal as the Deity think,
With all the beauteous Characters that in it
With such deep Sense by Gods own Hand were writ,
Whose Eloquence though we understand not, we admire,
Shall crackle, and the parts together shrink
Like Parchment in a fire.
Th'exhausted Sun to th'Moon no more shall lend;
But truly then headlong into the Sea descend.
The glittering Host, now in such fair array,
So proud, so well appointed, and so gay,

213

Like fearful Troops in some strong Ambush ta'ne,
Shall some fly routed, and some fall slaine,
Thick as ripe Fruit, or yellow Leaves in Autumn fall,
With such a violent Storm as blows down Tree and all.

4.

And Thou, O cursed Land,
Which wilt not see the Præcipice where thou dost stand,
Though thou standst just upon the brink;
Thou of this poysoned Bowl the bitter Dregs shalt drink.
Thy Rivers and thy Lakes shall so
With humane blood oreflow;
That they shall fetch the slaughter'd corps away,
Which in the fields around unburied lay,
And rob the Beasts and Birds to give the Fish their prey.
The rotting corps shall so infect the aire;
Beget such Plagues, and putrid Venomes there,
That by thine own Dead shall be slain,
All thy few Living that remain.
As one who buys, Surveys a ground,
So the Destroying Angel measures it around.
So careful and so strict he is,
Lest any Nook or Corner he should miss.
He walks about the perishing Nation,
Ruine behind him stalks and empty Desolation.

5.

Then shall the Market and the Pleading-place
Be choakt with Brambles and oregrown with grass.
The Serpents through thy Streets shall rowl,
And in thy lower rooms the Wolves shall howl,
And thy gilt Chambers lodge the Raven and the Owl,
And all the wing'd Ill-Omens of the aire,
Though no new-Ills can be fore-boded there.
The Lyon then shall to the Leopard say,
Brother Leopard come away;
Behold a Land which God has giv'en us in prey!
Behold a Land from whence we see
Mankind expulst, His and Our common Enemie!
The Brother Leopard shakes himself, and does not stay.

214

6.

The glutted Vulturs shall expect in vain
New Armies to be slain.
Shall find at last the business done,
Leave their consumed Quarters, and be gone.
Th'unburied Ghosts shall sadly moan,
The Satyrs laugh to hear them groan.
The Evil Spirits that delight
To dance and revel in the Mask of Night,
The Moon and Stars, their sole Spectators shall affright.
And if of lost Mankind
Ought happen to be left behind,
If any Reliques but remain,
They in the Dens shall lurk, Beasts in the Palaces shall raign.

219

The Plagues of Egypt.

1.

Is this thy Brav'ery Man, is this thy Pride?
Rebel to God, and Slave to all beside!
Captiv'ed by everything! and onely Free
To fly from thine own Libertie!
All Creatures the Creator said Were Thine;
No Creature but might since, say, Man is Mine!
In black Egyptian Slavery we lie;
And sweat and toil in the vile Drudgerie
Of Tyrant Sin;
To which we Trophees raise, and wear out all our Breath,
In building up the Monuments of Death;
We, the choice Race, to God and Angels Kin!
In vain the Prophets and Apostles come
To call us home,

220

Home to the promis'ed Canaan above,
Which does with nourishing Milk, and pleasant Honey flow;
And ev'en i'th'way to which we should be fed
With Angels tasteful Bread:
But, we, alas, the Flesh-pots love,
We love the very Leeks and sordid roots below.

2.

In vain we Judgments feel, and Wonders see;
In vain did God to descend hither dain,
He was his own Ambassador in vain,
Our Moses and our Guid himself to be.
We will not let our selves to go,
And with worse hardned hearts do our own Pharaohs grow;
Ah, lest at last we perish so!
Think, stubborn Man, think of th'Egyptian Prince,
(Hard of Belief and Will, but not so hard as Thou)
Think with what dreadful proofs God did convince
The feeble arguments that humane pow'er could show;
Think what Plagues attend on Thee,
Who Moses God dost now refuse, more oft then Moses He.

3.

If from some God you come (said the proud King)
With half a smile and half a Frown;
(But what God can to Egypt be unknown?)
What Sign, what Powers, what Credence do you bring?
Behold his Seal, behold his Hand,
Cryes Moses, and casts down th' Almighty Wand.
Th' Almighty Wand scarce toucht the Earth,
When with an undiscerned birth
Th' Almighty Wand a Serpent grew
And his long half in painted folds behind him drew.
Upwards his threatning Tail he threw;
Upwards he cast his threatning Head,
He gap'ed and hist aloud;
With flaming Eyes survey'd the trembling croud,
And like a Basilisk almost lookt the Assembly dead;
Swift fled th' Amazed King, the Guards before him fled.

221

4.

Jannes and Jambres stopt their flight,
And with proud words allay'd th'affright.
The God of Slaves (said they) how can he be
More powerful then their Masters Deitie?
And down they cast their Rods,
And mutter'ed secret sounds that charm the servile Gods.
The evil Spirits their charms obey,
And in a subtle cloud they snatch the Rods away,
And Serpents in their place the airy Juglers lay.
Serpents in Egypts monstrous land,
Were ready still at hand,
And all at the Old Serpents first command.
And they too gap'ed, and they too hist,
And they their threatning Tails did twist,
But strait on both the Hebrew-Serpent flew;
Broke both their active Backs, and both it slew,
And both almost at once devour'ed,
So much was over-power'ed
By Gods miraculous Creation
His Servants Natures slightly-wrought, and feeble Generation.

5.

On the fame'd bank the Prophets stood,
Toucht with their Rod, and wounded all the Flood;
Flood now no more, but a long Vein of putrid Blood.
The helpless Fish were found
In their strange Current drownd,
The Herbs and Trees washt by the mortal Tide
About it blusht and dyed.
Th'amazed Crocodiles made haste to ground;
From their vast trunks the dropping gore they spied,
Thought it their Own, and dreadfully aloud they cried.
Nor all thy Priests, nor Thou
Oh King, couldst ever show
From whence thy wandring Nile begins his course;
Of this new Nile thou seest the sacred Sourse;
And as thy Land that does oreflow,
Take heed lest this do so.
What Plague more just could on thy Waters fall?

222

The Hebrew Infants Murder stains them all.
The kind, instructing Punishment enjoy;
Whom the Red River cannot Mend, the Red-sea shall Destroy.

6.

The River yet gave one Instruction more,
And from the rotting Fish and unconcocted Gore,
Which was but Water just before,
A loathsome Host was quickly made,
That scale'd the Banks, & with loud noise did all the Country invade.
As Nilus when he quits his sacred Bed
(But like a Friend he visits all the Land
With welcome presents in his hand)
So did this Living Tide the Fields orespread.
In vain th'alarmed Countrey tries
To kill their noisome Enemies,
From th'unexhausted Sourse still new Recruits arise.
Nor does the Earth these greedy Troops suffice,
The Towns and Houses they possess,
The Temples and the Palaces,
Nor Pharaoh, nor his Gods they fear;
Both their importune croakings hear.
Unsatiate yet they mount up higher,
Where never Sun-born Frog durst to aspire;
And in the silken Beds their slimy Members place;
A Luxurie unknown before to all the Watry Race.

7.

The Water thus her Wonders did produce;
But both were to no use.
As yet the Sorcerers mimick power serv'ed for excuse.
Try what the Earth will do (said God) and, Lo!
They stroke the Earth a fertile blow.
And all the Dust did strait to stir begin;
One would have thought some sudden Wind t'had bin;
But, Lo, 'twas nimble Life was got within!
And all the little Springs did move,
And every Dust did an arm'ed Vermine prove,
Of an unknown and new-created kind,
Such as the Magick-Gods could neither make nor find.

223

The wretched shameful Foe allow'ed no rest
Either to Man or Beast.
Not Phar[ao]h from th'unquiet Plague could be,
With all his change of Rayments free;
The Devils themselves confest
This was Gods Hand; and 'twas but just
To punish thus mans pride, to punish Dust with Dust.

8.

Lo the third Element does his Plagues prepare,
And swarming Clouds of Insects fill the Air.
With sullen noise they take their flight,
And march in Bodies infinite;
In vain 'tis Day above, 'tis still beneath them Night.
Of harmful Flies the Nations numberless,
Compos'ed this mighty Armies spacious boast;
Of different Manners, different Languages;
And different Habits too they wore,
And different Arms they bore.
And some, like Scythians, liv'ed on Blood,
And some on Green, and some on Flowry Food,
And Accaron, the Airy Prince, led on this various Host.
Houses secure not Men, the populous ill
Did all the Houses fill.
The Country, all around,
Did with the cryes of tortured Cattel sound;
About the fields enrag'ed they flew,
And wisht the Plague that was t'ensue.

9.

From poysonous Stars a mortal Influence came
(The mingled Malice of their Flame)
A skilful Angel did th'Ingredients take,
And with just hands the sad Composure make,
And over all the Land did the full viol shake.
Thirst, Giddiness, Faintness, and putrid Heats,
And pining Pains, and Shivering Sweats,
On all the Cattle, all the Beasts did fall;
With deform'ed Death the Countrey's covered all.

224

The labouring Ox drops down before the Plow;
The crowned Victims to the Altar led
Sink, and prevent the lifted blow.
The generous Horse from the full Manger turns his Head;
Does his Lov'ed Floods and Pastures scorn,
Hates the shrill Trumpet and the Horn,
Nor can his lifeless Nostril please,
With the once-ravishing smell of all his dappled Mistresses.
The starving Sheep refuse to feed,
They bleat their innocent Souls out into air;
The faithful Dogs lie gasping by them there;
Th'astonisht Shepherd weeps, and breaks his tuneful Reed.

10.

Thus did the Beasts for Mans Rebellion dy,
God did on Man a Gentler Medicine try,
And a Disease for Physick did apply.
Warm ashes from the Furnace Moses took;
The Sorcerers did with wonder on him look;
And smil'ed at th'unaccustom'ed Spell
Which no Egyptian Rituals tell.
He flings the pregnant Ashes through the Air,
And speaks a mighty Pray'er,
Both which the Ministring Winds around all Egypt bear.
As gentle western Blasts with downy wings
Hatching the tender Springs
To the'unborn Buds with vital whispers say,
Ye Living Buds why do ye stay?
The passionate Buds break through the Bark their way:
So wheresoere this tainted Wind but blew,
Swelling Pains and Ulcers grew;
It from the body call'ed all sleeping Poysons out,
And to them added new;
A noysome Spring of Sores, as thick as Leaves did sprout.

11.

Heaven it self is angry next;
Wo to Man, when Heav'en is vext.
With sullen brow it frown'd,
And murmur'ed first in an imperfect sound.

225

Till Moses lifting up his hand,
Waves the expected Signal of his Wand,
And all the full-charg'ed clouds in ranged Squadrons move,
And fill the spacious Plains above.
Through which the rowling Thunder first does play,
And opens wide the Tempests noisy way.
And straight a stony shower
Of monstrous Hail does downwards pour,
Such as nere Winter yet brought forth
From all her stormy Magazins of the North.
It all the Beasts and Men abroad did slay,
O're the defaced corps, like Monuments, lay,
The houses and strong-body'ed Trees it broke,
Nor askt aid from the Thunders stroke.
The Thunder but for Terror through it flew,
The Hail alone the work could do.
The dismal Lightnings all around,
Some flying through the Air, some running on the ground,
Some swimming o're the waters face,
Fill'd with bright Horror every place.
One would have thought their dreadful Day to have seen,
The very Hail, and Rain it self had kindled been.

12.

The Infant Corn, which yet did scarce appear,
Escap'ed this general Massacer
Of every thing that grew,
And the well-stored Egyptian year
Began to cloath her Fields and Trees anew.
When, Lo! a scorching wind from the burnt Countrys blew,
And endless Legions with it drew
Of greedy Locusts, who where e're
With sounding wings they flew,
Left all the Earth depopulate and bare,
As if Winter it self had marcht by there.
What e're the Sun and Nile
Gave with large Bounty to the thankful soil,
The wretched Pillagers bore away,
And the whole Summer was their Prey,

226

Till Moses with a prayer
Breath'd forth a violent Western wind,
Which all these living clouds did headlong bear
(No Stragglers left behind)
Into the purple Sea, and there bestow
On the luxurious Fish a Feast they ne're did know.
With untaught joy, Pharaoh the News does hear,
And little thinks their Fate attends on Him, and His so near.

13.

What blindness or what Darkness did there e're
Like this undocil King's appear?
What e're but that which now does represent
And paint the Crime out in the Punishment?
From the deep, baleful Caves of Hell below,
Where the old Mother Night does grow,
Substantial Night, that does disclaime,
Privation's empty Name,
Through secret conduits monstrous shapes arose,
Such as the Suns whole force could not oppose,
They with a Solid Cloud
All Heavens Eclypsed Face did shrowd.
Seem'd with large Wings spred o're the Sea and Earth
To brood up a new Chaos his deformed birth.
And every Lamp, and every Fire
Did at the dreadful sight wink and expire,
To th'Empyrean Sourse all streams of Light seem'd to retire.
The living Men were in their standing-houses buried;
But the long Night no slumber knows,
But the short Death finds no repose.
Ten thousand terrors through the darkness fled,
And Ghosts complain'd, and Spirits murmured.
And Fancies multiplying sight
View'd all the Scenes Invisible of Night.

14.

Of Gods dreadful anger these
Were but the first light Skirmishes;
The Shock and bloody battel now begins,
The plenteous Harvest of full-ripened Sins.

227

It was the time, when the still Moon
Was mounted softly to her Noon,
And dewy sleep, which from Nights secret springs arose,
Gently as Nile the land oreflows.
When (Lo!) from the high Countreys of refined Day,
The Golden Heaven without allay,
Whose dross in the Creation purg'ed away,
Made up the Suns adulterate ray,
Michael, the warlike Prince, does downwards fly
Swift as the journeys of the Sight,
Swift as the race of Light,
And with his Winged Will cuts through the yielding sky.
He past throw many a Star, and as he past,
Shone (like a star in them) more brightly there,
Then they did in their Sphere.
On a tall Pyramids pointed Head he stopt at last,
And a mild look of sacred Pity cast
Down on the sinful Land where he was sent,
T'inflict the tardy punishment.
Ah! yet (said He) yet stubborn King repent;
Whilst thus unarm'ed I stand,
Ere the keen Sword of God fill my commanded Hand;
Suffer but yet Thy self, and Thine to live;
Who would, alas! believe
That it for Man (said He)
So hard to be Forgiven should be,
And yet for God so easie to Forgive!

15.

He spoke, and downwards flew,
And ore his shining Form a well-cut cloud he threw
Made of the blackest Fleece of Night,
And close-wrought to keep in the powerful Light,
Yet wrought so fine it hindred not his Flight.
But through the Key-holes and the chinks of dores,
And through the narrow'est Walks of crooked Pores,
He past more swift and free,
Then in wide air the wanton Swallows flee.

228

He took a pointed Pestilence in his hand,
The Spirits of thousand mortal poysons made
The strongly temper'd Blade,
The sharpest Sword that e're was laid
Up in the Magazins of God to scourge a wicked Land.
Through Egypts wicked Land his march he took.
And as he marcht the sacred First-born strook
Of every womb; none did he spare;
None from the meanest Beast to Cenchres purple Heire.

16.

The swift approach of endless Night,
Breaks ope the wounded Sleepers rowling Eyes;
They'awake the rest with dying cries,
And Darkness doubles the affright.
The mixed sounds of scatter'd Deaths they hear,
And lose their parted Souls 'twixt Grief and Fear.
Louder then all the shrieking Womens voice
Pierces this Chaos of confused noise.
As brighter Lightning cuts a way
Clear, and distinguisht through the Day.
With less complaints the Zoan Temples sound,
When the adored Heifer's drownd,
And no true markt Successor to be found.
Whilst Health, and Strength, and Gladness does possess
The festal Hebrew Cottages;
The blest Destroyer comes not there
To interrupt the sacred cheare
That new begins their well-reformed Year.
Upon their doors he read and understood,
Gods Protection writ in Blood;
Well was he skild i'th' Character Divine;
And though he past by it in haste,
He bow'd and worshipt as he past,
The mighty Mysterie through its humble Signe.

17.

The Sword strikes now too deep and near,
Longer with it's edge to play;
No Diligence or Cost they spare
To haste the Hebrews now away,

229

Pharaoh himself chides their delay;
So kinde and bountiful is Fear!
But, oh, the Bounty which to Fear we ow,
Is but like Fire struck out of stone.
So hardly got, and quickly gone,
That it scarce out-lives the Blow.
Sorrow and fear soon quit the Tyrants brest;
Rage and Revenge their place possest
With a vast Host of Chariots and of Horse,
And all his powerful Kingdoms ready force
The travelling Nation he pursues;
Ten times orecome, he still th'unequal war renewes.
Fill'd with proud hopes, At least (said he)
Th' Egyptian Gods from Syrian Magick free
Will now revenge Themselves and Me;
Behold what passless Rocks on either hand
Like Prison walls about them stand!
Whilst the Sea bounds their Flight before,
And in our injur'ed justice they must find
A far worse stop then Rocks and Seas behind.
Which shall with crimson gore
New paint the Waters Name, and double dye the shore.

18.

He spoke; and all his Host
Approv'ed with shouts th'unhappy boast,
A bidden wind bore his vain words away,
And drown'd them in the neighb'ring Sea.
No means t'escape the faithless Travellers spie,
And with degenerous fear to die,
Curse their new-gotten Libertie.
But the great Guid well knew he led them right,
And saw a Path hid yet from humane sight.
He strikes the raging waves, the waves on either side
Unloose their close Embraces, and divide;
And backwards press, as in some solemn show
The crowding People do
(Though just before no space was seen)
To let the admired Triumph pass between.

230

The wondring Army saw on either hand
The no less wondring Waves, like Rocks of Crystal stand.
They marcht betwixt, and boldly trod
The secret paths of God.
And here and there all scatter'd in their way
The Seas old spoils, and gaping Fishes lay
Deserted on the sandy plain,
The Sun did with astonishment behold
The inmost Chambers of the opened Main,
For whatsoere of old
By his own Priests the Poets has been said,
He never sunk till then into the Oceans Bed.

19.

Led chearfully by a bright Captain Flame,
To th'other shore at Morning Dawn they came,
And saw behind th'unguided Foe
March disorderly and slow.
The Prophet straight from th'Idumæan strand
Shakes his Imperious Wand.
The upper waves, that highest crowded lie,
The beckning Wand espie.
Straight their first right-hand files begin to move,
And with a murmuring wind
Give the word March to all behind.
The left-hand Squadrons no less ready prove,
But with a joyful louder noise
Answer their distant fellows voice,
And haste to meet them make,
As several Troops do all at once a common Signal take.
What tongue th'amazement and th'affright can tell
Which on the Chamian Army fell,
When on both sides they saw the roaring Main
Broke loose from his Invisible Chain?
They saw the monstrous Death and watry War
Come rowling down loud Ruine from afar.
In vain some backward, and some forwards fly
With helpless haste; in vain they cry
To their Cœlestial Beasts for aid;
In vain their guilty King they'upbraid,

231

In vain on Moses he, and Moses God does call,
With a Repentance true too late;
They're compast round with a devouring Fate
That draws, like a strong Net, the mighty Sea upon them All.

Davideis,

A SACRED POEM OF THE TROUBLES OF DAVID.

In FOUR BOOKS.

Virg. Georg. 2. Me verò primùm dulces ante omnia Musæ,
Quarum sacra fero ingenti percussus amore,
Accipiant, Cœliq; vias ac Sidera monstrent.

241

DAVIDEIS.

The first Book.

THE CONTENTS.

The Proposition. The Invocation. The entrance into the History from a new agreement betwixt Saul and David. A Description of Hell. The Devils Speech. Envys reply to him. Her appearing to Saul in the shape of Benjamin, her Speech and Sauls to himself after she was vanisht. A Description of Heaven. Gods Speech: he sends an Angel to David, the Angels Message to him. David sent for to play before Saul. A Digression concerning Musick. Davids Psalm. Saul attempts to kill him. His escape to his own house, from whence being pursued by the Kings Guard, by the artifice of his Wife Michol he escapes, and flies to Naioh, the Prophets Colledge at Ramah. Sauls speech, and rage at his escape. A long Digression describing the Prophets Colledge, and their manner of life there, and the ordinary subjects of their Poetry. Sauls Guards pursue David thither, and prophesie. Saul among the Prophets. He is compared to Balaam, whose Song concludes the Book.

242

I sing the Man who Judahs Scepter bore
In that right hand which held the Crook before;
Who from best Poet, best of Kings did grow;
The two chief gifts Heav'n could on Man bestow.
Much danger first, much toil did he sustain,
Whilst Saul and Hell crost his strong fate in vain.
Nor did his Crown less painful work afford;
Less exercise his Patience, or his Sword;
So long her Conque'ror Fortunes spight pursu'd;
Till with unwearied Virtue he subdu'd
All homebred Malice, and all forreign boasts;
Their strength was Armies, his the Lord of Hosts.

Thou, who didst Davids royal stem adorn,

Joh. 8. 58.

And gav'st him birth from whom thy self was't born.
Who didst in Triumph at Deaths Court appear,
And slew'st him with thy Nails, thy Cross and Spear,
Whilst Hells black Tyrant trembled to behold,
The glorious light he forfeited of old,
Who Heav'ns glad burden now, and justest pride,
Sit'st high enthron'd next thy great Fathers side,
(Where hallowed Flames help to adorn that Head
Which once the blushing Thorns environed,
Till crimson drops of precious blood hung down
Like Rubies to enrich thine humble Crown.)
Ev'en Thou my breast with such blest rage inspire,
As mov'd the tuneful strings of Davids Lyre,
Guid my bold steps with thine old trav'elling Flame,
In these untrodden paths to Sacred Fame;

243

Lo, with pure hands thy heav'enly Fires to take,
My well-chang'd Muse I a chast Vestal make!
From earths vain joys, and loves soft witchcraft free,
I consecrate my Magdalene to Thee!
Lo, this great work, a Temple to thy praise,
On polisht Pillars of strong Verse I raise!
A Temple, where if Thou vouchsafe to dwell,
It Solomons, and Herods shall excel.
Too long the Muses-Land have Heathen bin;
Their Gods too long were Dev'ils, and Vertues Sin;
But Thou, Eternal Word, hast call'd forth Me
Th' Apostle, to convert that World to Thee;
T' unbind the charms that in slight Fables lie,
And teach that Truth is truest Poesie.

The malice now of jealous Saul grew less,
O'recome by constant Virtue, and Success;
He grew at last more weary to command
New dangers, than young David to withstand
Or Conquer them; he fear'd his mastring Fate,
And envy'd him a Kings unpowerful Hate.
Well did he know how Palms by 'oppression speed,
Victorious, and the Victors sacred Meed!
The Burden lifts them higher. Well did he know,
How a tame stream does wild and dangerous grow
By unjust force; he now with wanton play,
Kisses the smiling Banks, and glides away,
But his known Channel stopt, begins to roare,
And swell with rage, and buffet the dull shore.
His mutinous waters hurry to the War,
And Troops of Waves come rolling from afar.
Then scorns he such weak stops to his free source,
And overruns the neighboring fields with violent course.

This knew the Tyrant, and this useful thought
His wounded mind to health and temper brought.
He old kind vows to David did renew,
Swore constancy, and meant his oath for true.
A general joy at this glad news appear'd,
For David all men lov'd, and Saul they fear'd.
Angels and Men did Peace, and David love,
But Hell did neither Him, nor That approve;

244

From mans agreement fierce Alarms they take;
And Quiet here, does there new Business make.

Beneath the silent chambers of the earth,
Where the Suns fruitful beams give metals birth,
Where he the growth of fatal Gold does see,
Gold which above more Influence has than He.
Beneath the dens where unfletcht Tempests lye,
And infant Winds their tender Voyces try,
Beneath the mighty Oceans wealthy Caves,
Beneath th' eternal Fountain of all Waves,
Where their vast Court the Mother-waters keep,
And undisturb'd by Moons in silence sleep,
There is a place deep, wondrous deep below,
Which genuine Night and Horrour does o'reflow;
No bound controls th' unwearied space, but Hell
Endless as those dire pains that in it dwell.
Here no dear glimpse of the Suns lovely face,
Strikes through the Solid darkness of the place;
No dawning Morn does her kind reds display;
One slight weak beam would here be thought the Day.
No gentle stars with their fair Gems of Light
Offend the tyr'anous and unquestion'd Night.
Here Lucifer the mighty Captive reigns;
Proud, 'midst his Woes, and Tyrant in his Chains.
Once General of a guilded Host of Sprights,
Like Hesper, leading forth the spangled Nights.
But down like Lightning, which him struck, he came;
And roar'd at his first plunge into the Flame.
Myriads of Spirits fell wounded round him there;
With dropping Lights thick shone the singed Air.
Since when the dismal Solace of their wo,
Has only been weak Mankind to undo;
Themselves at first against themselves they 'excite,
(Their dearest Conquest, and most proud delight)
And if those Mines of secret Treason fail,
With open force mans Vertue they assail;
Unable to corrupt, seek to destroy;
And where their Poysons miss, the Sword employ.
Thus sought the Tyrant Fiend young Davids fall;
And 'gainst him arm'd the pow'erful rage of Saul.

245

He saw the beauties of his shape and face,
His female sweetness, and his manly grace,

1 Sam. 16. 12.

He saw the nobler wonders of his Mind,
Great Gifts, which for Great Works he knew design'd.
He saw (t' ashame the strength of Man and Hell)

1 Sam. 17.

How by's young hands their Gathite Champion fell.
He saw the reverend Prophet boldly shed
The Royal Drops round his Enlarged Head.

1 Sam. 16. 13.

And well he knew what Legacy did place,

Gen. 49. 10.

The sacred Scepter in blest Judahs race,
From which th' Eternal Shilo was to spring;
A Knowledge which new Hells to Hell did bring!
And though no less he knew himself too weak
The smallest Link of strong-wrought Fate to break;
Yet would he rage, and struggle with the Chain;
Lov'd to Rebel though sure that 'twas in vain.
And now it broke his form'd design, to find
The gentle change of Sauls recov'ering Mind.
He trusted much in Saul, and rag'ed, and griev'd
(The great Deceiver) to be Himself Deceiv'd.
Thrice did he knock his Iron teeth, thrice howl,
And into frowns his wrathful forehead rowl.
His eyes dart forth red flames which scare the Night,
And with worse Fires the trembling Ghosts affright.
A Troop of gastly Fiends compass him round,
And greedily catch at his lips fear'd sound.

Are we such Nothings then (said He) Our will
Crost by a Shepherds Boy? and you yet still
Play with your idle Serpents here? dares none
Attempt what becomes Furies? are ye grown
Benum'd with Fear, or Vertues sprightless cold,
You, who were once (I'm sure) so brave and bold?
Oh my ill-chang'd condition! oh my fate!
Did I lose Heav'en for this?
With that, with his long tail he lasht his breast,
And horribly spoke out in Looks the rest.
The quaking Pow'ers of Night stood in amaze,
And at each other first could only gaze.
A dreadful Silence fill'd the hollow place,
Doubling the native terrour of Hells face;

246

Rivers of flaming Brimstone, which before
So loudly rag'd, crept softly by the shore;
No hiss of Snakes, no clanck of Chains was known,
The Souls amidst their Tortures durst not groan.

Envy at last crawls forth from that dire throng,
Of all the direful'st; her black locks hung long,
Attir'd with curling Serpents; her pale skin
Was almost dropt from the sharp bones within,
And at her breast stuck Vipers which did prey
Upon her panting heart, both night and day
Sucking black bloud from thence, which to repair
Both night and day they left fresh poysons there.
Her garments were deep stain'd in humane gore,
And torn by her own hands, in which she bore
A knotted whip, and bowl, that to the brim
Did with green gall, and juice of wormwood swim.
With which when she was drunk, she furious grew
And lasht herself; thus from th' accursed crew,
Envy, the worst of Fiends, herself presents,
Envy, good only when she herself torments.

Spend not, great King, thy precious rage (said she)
Upon so poor a cause; shall Mighty We
The glory of our wrath to him afford?
Are We not Furies still? and you our Lord?
At thy dread anger the fixt World shall shake,
And frighted Nature her own Laws forsake.
Do Thou but threat, loud storms shall make reply,
And Thunder eccho't to the trembling Sky,
Whilst raging Seas swell to so bold an height,
As shall the Fires proud Element affright.
Th' old drudging Sun from his long-beaten way,
Shall at thy Voice start, and misguide the day.
The jocond Orbs shall break their measur'd pace,
And stubborn Poles change their allotted place.
Heav'ens guilded Troops shall flutter here and there,
Leaving their boasting Songs tun'd to a Sphere;
Nay their God too—for fear he did, when We
Took noble Arms against his Tyrannie,
So noble Arms, and in a Cause so great,
That Triumphs they deserve for their Defeat.

247

There was a Day! oh might I see't again
Though he had fiercer Flames to thrust us in!
And can such pow'rs be by a Child withstood?
Will Slings, alas, or Pebles do him good?
What th' untam'd Lyon, whet with hunger too,
And Gyants could not, that my Word shall do:
I'll soon dissolve this Peace; were Sauls new Love
(But Saul we know) great as my Hate shall prove,
Before their Sun twice be gone about,
I, and my faithful Snakes would drive it out.
By Me Cain offer'd up his Brothers gore,

Gen. 4. 8.

A Sacrifice far worse than that before;
I saw him fling the stone, as if he meant,
At once his Murder and his Monument,
And laught to see (for 'twas a goodly show)
The Earth by her first Tiller fatned so.

Ib. v. 2. Exod. 14. 23.

I drove proud Pharaoh to the parted Sea;
He, and his Host drank up cold death by Me;
By Me rebellious Arms fierce Corah took,
And Moses (curse upon that Name!) forsook;

Num. 16. 1.

Hither (ye know) almost alive he came

Ib. 31.

Through the cleft Earth; Ours was his Fun'eral Flame.
By Me—but I lose time, methinks, and should
Perform new acts whilst I relate the old;
David's the next our fury must enjoy;
'Tis not thy God himself shall save thee, Boy;
No, if he do, may the whole World have Peace;
May all ill Actions, all ill Fortune cease,
And banisht from this potent Court below,
May I a ragged, contemn'd Vertue grow.

She spoke; all star'ed at first, and made a pause;
But strait the general murmur of applause
Ran through Deaths Courts; she frown'd still, and begun
To envy at the praise herself had won.
Great Belzebub starts from his burning Throne
To' embrace the Fiend, but she now furious grown
To act her part; thrice bow'd, and thence she fled;
The Snakes all hist, the Fiends all murmured.

It was the time when silent night began
T'enchain with sleep the busie spirits of Man;

248

And Saul himself, though in his troubled breast
The weight of Empire lay, took gentle rest:
So did not Envy; but with haste arose;
And as through Israels stately Towns she goes,
She frowns and shakes her head; shine on (says she)
Ruines e're long shall your sole Mon'uments be.
The silver Moon with terrour paler grew,
And neighbring Hermon sweated flowry dew;
Swift Jordan started, and straight backward fled,
Hiding among thick reeds his aged head;
Lo, at her entrance Sauls strong Palace shook;
And nimbly there the reverend shape she took
Of Father Benjamin; so long her beard,
So large her limbs, so grave her looks appear'd.
Just like his statue which bestrid Sauls gate,
And seem'd to guard the race it did create.
In this known form she approacht the Tyrants side;
And thus her words the sacred Form bely'd.

Arise, lost King of Israel; can'st thou lie
Dead in this sleep, and yet thy Last so nigh?
If King thou be'est, if Jesses race as yit
Sit not on Israels Throne! and shall he sit?
Did ye for this from fruitful Egypt fly?
From the mild Brickhils nobler slavery?
For this did Seas your pow'erful Rod obey?
Did Wonders guid, and feed you on your way?
Could ye not there great Pharaohs bondage beare,
You who can serve a Boy, and Minstrel here?
Forbid it God, if thou be'st just; this shame
Cast not on Sauls, on mine, and Israels Name.
Why was I else from Canaans Famine lead?
Happy, thrice happy had I there been dead

Gen. 43.

E're my full Loyns discharg'ed this num'erous race,
This luckless Tribe, ev'en Crown'd to their Disgrace!
Ah Saul, thy Servants Vassal must thou live?
Place to his Harp must thy dread Scepter give?
What wants he now but that? can'st thou forget
(If thou be'st man thou can'st not) how they met
The Youth with Songs? Alas, poor Monarch! you

1. Sam. 18. 7.

Your thousand onely, he ten thousand slew!

249

Him Isra'el loves, him neighbring Countreys fear;
You but the Name, and empty Title bear;
And yet the Traytor lives, lives in thy Court;
The Court that must be his; where he shall sport
Himself with all thy Concubines, thy Gold,
Thy costly robes, thy Crown; Wert thou not told
This by proud Samuel, when at Gilgal he

1. Sam. 13. 13.

With bold false threats from God affronted Thee?
The dotard ly'd; God said it not I know;
Not Baal or Moloch would have us'd thee so;
Was not the choice his own? did not thy worth
Exact the royal Lot, and call it forth?
Hast thou not since (my best and greatest Sonne)

1. Sam. 19. 21.

To Him, and to his per'ishing Nation done
Such lasting ben'efits as may justly claime
A Scepter as eternal as thy Fame?
Poor Prince, whom Madmen, Priests, and Boys invade!
By thine own Flesh thy ingrateful Son betray'd!
Unnat'ural Fool, who can thus cheated be
By Friendships Name against a Crown and Thee!
Betray not too thy self; take courage, call
Thy 'enchanted Vertues forth, and be Whole Saul.
Lo, this great cause makes thy dead Fathers rise,
Breaks the firm Seals of their clos'd Tombs and Eyes.
Nor can their jealous Ashes, whilst this Boy
Survives, the Priv'iledge of their Graves enjoy.
Rise quickly Saul, and take that Rebels breath
Which troubles thus thy Life, and ev'en our Death.
Kill him, and thou'rt secure; 'tis only He
That's boldly interpos'd 'twixt God and Thee,
As Earths low Globe robs the High Moon of Light;
When this Eclypse is past, thy Fate's all bright.
Trust me, dear Son, and credit what I tell;
I 'have seen thy royal Stars, and know them well.
Hence Fears and dull Delays! Is not thy Breast
(Yes, Saul it is) with noble thoughts possest?
May they beget like Acts. With that she takes
One of her worst, her best beloved Snakes,
Softly, dear Worm, soft and unseen (said she)
Into his bosom steal, and in it be

250

My Vice-Roy. At that word she took her flight,
And her loose shape dissolv'd into the Night.

The infected King leapt from his bed amaz'd,
Scarce knew himself at first, but round him gaz'd,
And started back at piec'd up shapes, which fear
And his distracted Fancy painted there.
Terror froze up his hair, and on his face
Show'rs of cold sweat roll'd trembling down apace.
Then knocking with his angry hands his breast,
Earth with his feet; He crys, Oh 'tis confest;
I' have been a pious fool, a Woman-King;
Wrong'd by a Seer, a Boy, every thing.
Eight hundred years of Death is not so deep,
So unconcern'd as my Lethargick sleep.
My Patience ev'en a Sacriledge becomes,
Disturbs the Dead, and opes their sacred Tombs.
Ah Benjamin, kind Father! who for me
This cursed World endur'st again to see!
All thou hast said, great Vision, is so true,
That all which thou command'st, and more I'll do:
Kill him? yes mighty Ghost the wretch shall dy,
Though every Star in Heav'en should it deny;
Nor mock th' assault of our just wrath again,
Had he ten times his fam'd ten thousand slain.
Should that bold popular Madman, whose design
Is to revenge his own disgrace by Mine,

1 Sam. 8. 19.

Should my ingrateful Son oppose th' intent,
Should mine own heart grow scrup'ulous and relent.
Curse me just Heaven (by which this truth I swear)
If I that Seer, my Son, or Self do spare.
No gentle Ghost, return to thy still home;
Thither this day mine, and thy Foe shall come.
If that curst object longer vex my sight,
It must have learnt to 'appear as Thou to night.

Whilst thus his wrath with threats the Tyrant fed,
The threatned youth slept fearless on his bed;
Sleep on, rest quiet as thy Conscience take,
For though Thou sleep'st thy self, thy God's awake.
Above the subtle foldings of the Sky,
Above the well-set Orbs soft Harmony,

251

Above those petty Lamps that guild the Night;
There is a place o'reflown with hallowed Light;
Where Heaven, as if it left it self behind,
Is stretcht out far, nor its own bounds can find:
Here peaceful Flames swell up the sacred place,
Nor can the glory contain it self in th' endless space.
For there no twilight of the Suns dull ray,
Glimmers upon the pure and native day.
No pale-fac'd Moon does in stoln beams appear,
Or with dim Taper scatters darkness there.
On no smooth Sphear the restless seasons slide,
No circling Motion doth swift Time divide;
Nothing is there To come, and nothing Past,
But an Eternal Now does always last.
There sits th' Almighty, First of all, and End;
Whom nothing but Himself can comprehend.
Who with his Word commanded All to Be,
And All obey'd him, for that Word was He.
Only he spoke, and every thing that Is
From out the womb of fertile Nothing ris.
Oh who shall tell, who shall describe thy throne,
Thou Great Three-One?
There Thou thy self do'st in full presence show,
Not absent from these meaner Worlds below;
No, if thou wert, the Elements League would cease,
And all thy Creatures break thy Natures peace.
The Sun would stop his course, or gallop back,
The Stars drop out, the Poles themselves would crack:
Earths strong foundations would be torn in twain,
And this vast work all ravel out again
To its first Nothing; For his spirit contains
The well-knit Mass, from him each Creature gains
Being and Motion, which he still bestows;
From him th' effect of our weak Action flows.
Round him vast Armies of swift Angels stand,
Which seven triumphant Generals command,
They sing loud anthems of his endless praise,
And with fixt eyes drink in immortal rayes.
Of these he call'd out one; all Heav'en did shake,
And silence kept whilst its Creator spake.

252

Are we forgotten then so soon? can He
Look on his Crown, and not remember Me
That gave it? can he think we did not hear
(Fond Man!) his threats? and have we made the Ear
To be accounted deaf? No, Saul, we heard;
And it will cost thee dear; the ills thou'st fear'd,
Practis'd, or thought on, I'll all double send;
Have we not spoke it, and dares Man contend!
Alas, poor dust! didst thou but know the day
When thou must lie in blood at Gilboa,

1 Sam. 31.

Thou, and thy Sons, thou wouldst not threaten still,
Thy trembling Tongue would stop against thy will.
Then shall thine Head fixt in curst Temples be,
And all their foolish Gods shall laugh at Thee.
That hand which now on Davids Life would prey,
Shall then turn just, and its own Master slay;
He whom thou hat'est, on thy lov'ed Throne shall sit,
And expiate the disgrace thou do'st to it.
Hast then; tell David what his King has sworn,
Tell him whose blood must paint this rising Morn.
Yet bid him go securely when he sends;
'Tis Saul that is his Foe, and we his Friends.
The Man who has his God no aid can lack,
And we who bid him Go, will bring him back.

He spoke; the Heavens seem'd decently to bow,
With all their bright Inhabitants; and now
The jocond Sphaeres began again to play,
Again each Spirit sung Halleluia.
Only that Angel was strait gon; Ev'en so
(But not so swift) the morning Glories flow
At once from the bright Sun, and strike the ground;
So winged Lightning the soft air does wound.
Slow Time admires, and knows not what to call
The Motion, having no Account so small.
So flew this Angel, till to Davids bed
He came, and thus his sacred Message said,

Awake, young Man, hear what thy King has sworn;
He swore thy blood should paint this rising Morn.
Yet to him go securely when he sends;
'Tis Saul that is your Foe, and God your Friends.

253

The Man who has his God, no aid can lack;
And he who bids thee Go, will bring thee back.

Up leapt Jessides, and did round him stare;
But could see nought; for nought was left but air,
Whilst this great Vision labours in his thought,
Lo, the short Prophesie t'effect is brought.
In treacherous hast he's sent for to the King,

1 Sam. 18. 10. & 19. 9.

And with him bid his charmful Lyre to bring.
The King, they say, lies raging in a Fit,
Which does no cure but sacred tunes admit;
And true it was, soft musick did appease

1 Sam. 16. 23.

Th'obscure fantastick rage of Sauls disease.

Tell me, oh Muse (for Thou, or none canst tell
The mystick pow'ers that in blest Numbers dwell,
Thou their great Nature know'st, nor is it fit
This noblest Gem of thine own Crown t' omit)
Tell me from whence these heav'nly charms arise;
Teach the dull world t'admire what they despise,

As first a various unform'd Hint we find
Rise in some god-like Poets fertile Mind,
Till all the parts and words their places take,
And with just marches verse and musick make;
Such was Gods Poem, this Worlds new Essay;
So wild and rude in its first draught it lay;
Th' ungovern'd parts no Correspondence knew,
An artless war from thwarting Motions grew;
Till they to Number and fixt Rules were brought
By the eternal Minds Poetique Thought.
Water and Air he for the Tenor chose,
Earth made the Base, the Treble Flame arose,
To th' active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave,
To Saturns string a touch more soft and grave.
The motions Strait, and Round, and Swift, and Slow,
And Short, and Long, were mixt and woven so,
Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall,
As made this decent measur'd Dance of All.
And this is Musick; Sounds that charm our ears,
Are but one Dressing that rich Science wears.
Though no man hear't, though no man it reherse,
Yet will there still be Musick in my Verse.

254

In this Great World so much of it we see;
The Lesser, Man, is all o're Harmonie.
Storehouse of all Proportions! single Quire!
Which first Gods Breath did tunefully inspire!
From hence blest Musicks heav'enly charms arise,
From sympathy which Them and Man allies.
Thus they our souls, thus they our Bodies win,
Not by their Force, but Party that's within.
Thus the strange Cure on our spilt Blood apply'd,
Sympathy to the distant Wound does guid.
Thus when two Brethren strings are set alike,
To move them both, but one of them we strike,
Thus Davids Lyre did Sauls wild rage controul.
And tun'd the harsh disorders of his Soul.

When Israel was from bondage led,

Psal. 114.

Led by th' Almighty's hand
From out a forreign land,
The great Sea beheld, and fled.
As men pursu'd, when that fear past they find,
Stop on some higher ground to look behind,
So whilst through wondrous ways
The sacred Army went,
The Waves afar stood up to gaze,
And their own Rocks did represent,
Solid as Waters are above the Firmament.

Old Jordans waters to their spring
Start back with sudden fright;
The spring amaz'd at sight,
Asks what News from Sea they bring.
The Mountains shook; and to the Mountains side,
The little Hills leapt round themselves to hide;
As young affrighted Lambs
When they ought dreadful spy,
Run trembling to their helpless Dams;
The mighty Sea and River by,
Were glad for their excuse to see the Hills to fly.

What ail'd the mighty Sea to flee;

255

Or why did Jordans tyde
Back to his Fountain glide?
Jordans Tyde, what ailed Thee?
Why leapt the Hills? why did the Mountains shake?
What ail'd them their fixt Natures to forsake?
Fly where thou wilt, O Sea!
And Jordans Current cease;
Jordan there is no need of thee,
For at Gods word, when e're he please,
The Rocks shall weep new Waters forth instead of these.

Exod. 17. 6. Num. 20. 11.

Thus sung the great Musician to his Lyre;
And Sauls black rage grew softly to retire;
But Envys Serpent still with him remain'd,
And the wise Charmers healthful voice disdain'd.

Ps. 58. 5.

Th' unthankful King cur'd truly of his fit,
Seems to lie drown'd and buryed still in it.
From his past madness draws this wicked use,
To sin disguis'd, and murder with excuse:
For whilst the fearless youth his cure pursues,
And the soft Medicine with kind art renews;
The barb'arous Patient casts at him his spear,

1 Sam. 18. 11. & 19. 10.

(The usual Scepter that rough hand did bear)
Casts it with violent strength, but into th'roome
An Arm more strong and sure then his was come;
An Angel whose unseen and easie might
Put by the weapon, and misled it right.
How vain Mans pow'er is! unless God command,
The weapon disobeys his Masters hand!
Happy was now the error of the blow;
At Gilboa it will not serve him so.
One would have thought, Sauls sudden rage t'have seen,
He had himself by David wounded been.
He scorn'd to leave what he did ill begin,
And thought his Honor now engag'ed i'th' Sin.
A bloody Troop of his own Guards he sends
(Slaves to his Will, and falsly call'ed his Friends)
To mend his error by a surer blow,
So Saul ordain'ed, but God ordain'ed not so.
Home flies the Prince and to his trembling Wife

256

Relates the new-past hazard of his life,
Which she with decent passion hears him tell;
For not her own fair Eyes she lov'ed so well.
Upon their Palace top beneath a row
Of Lemon Trees, which there did proudly grow,
And with bright stores of golden fruit repay
The Light they drank from the Suns neighb'ring ray,
(A small, but artful Paradise) they walk'd;
And hand in hand sad gentle things they talk'd.
Here Michol first an armed Troop espies
(So faithful and so quick are loving Eyes)
Which marcht, and often glister'd through a wood,
That on right hand of her fair Palace stood;
She saw them; and cry'd out; They're come to kill

1 Sam. 19. 11.

My dearest Lord; Sauls spear pursues thee still.
Behold his wicked Guards; Haste quickly, fly,
For heavens sake haste; My dear Lord, do not dy.
Ah cruel Father, whose ill-natur'ed rage
Neither thy Worth, nor Marriage can asswage!
Will he part those he joyn'd so late before?
Were the two-hundred Foreskins worth no more?

1 Sam. 18. 27.

He shall not part us; (Then she wept between)
At yonder Window thou mayst scape unseen;
This hand shall let thee down; stay not, but hast;
'Tis not my Use to send thee hence so fast.

Best of all women, he replies—and this
Scarce spoke, she stops his answer with a Kiss;
Throw not away (said she) thy precious breath,
Thou stay'st too long within the reach of death.
Timely he'obeys her wise advice, and streit
To unjust Force she'opposes just deceit.
She meets the Murd'erers with a vertuous Ly,

1 Sam. 19. 13.

And good dissembling Tears; May he not dy
In quiet then? (said she) will they not give

1 Sam. 19. 14.

That freedom who so fear lest he should Live?
Even fate does with your cruelty conspire,
And spares your guilt, yet does what you desire.
Must he not live? for that ye need not sin;
My much-wrong'd Husband speechless lies within,
And has too little left of vital breath

257

To know his Murderers, or to feel his Death.
One hour will do your work—
Here her well-govern'd Tears dropt down apace;
Beauty and Sorrow mingled in one face
Has such resistless charms that they believe,
And an unwilling aptness find to grieve
At what they came for; A pale Statues head
In linnen wrapt appear'd on Davids bed;
Two servants mournful stand and silent by,
And on the table med'cinal reliques ly;
In the close room a well-plac'ed Tapers light,
Adds a becoming horror to the sight.
And for th' Impression God prepar'ed their Sence;
They saw, believ'd all this, and parted thence.
How vain attempts Sauls unblest anger tryes,
By his own hands deceiv'd, and servants Eyes!

It cannot be (said he) no, can it? shall
Our great ten thousand Slayer idly fall?
The silly rout thinks God protects him still;
But God, alas, guards not the bad from ill.
Oh may he guard him! may his members be
In as full strength, and well-set harmonie
As the fresh body of the first made Man
E're Sin, or Sins just meed, Disease began.
He will be else too small for our vast Hate;
And we must share in our revenge with fate.
No; let us have him Whole; we else may seem
To'have snatcht away but some few days from him,
And cut that Thread which would have dropt in two;
Will our great anger learn to stoop so low?
I know it cannot, will not; him we prize
Of our just wrath the solemn Sacrifice,
That must not blemisht be; let him remain
Secure, and grow up to our stroke again.
'Twill be some pleasure then to take his breath,
When he shall strive, and wrestle with his death;
Go, let him live—And yet—shall I then stay
So long? good and great actions hate delay.
Some foolish piety perhaps, or He
That has been still mine honors Enemie,

258

Samuel may change or cross my just intent,
And I this Formal Pity soon repent.
Besides Fate gives him me, and whispers this,
That he can fly no more, if we should miss;
Miss? can we miss again; go bring him strait,
Though gasping out his Soul; if the wisht date

1 Sam. 19. 15.

Of his accursed life be almost past,
Some Joy 'twill be to see him breath his last.
The Troop return'd, of their short Virtue' asham'ed,
Sauls courage prais'd, and their own weakness blam'ed,
But when the pious fraud they understood,
Scarce the respect due to Sauls sacred blood,
Due to the sacred beauty in it reign'ed,
From Michols murder their wild rage restrain'ed.
She'alleag'ed the holiest chains that bind a wife,
Duty and Love; she alleag'ed that her own Life,

1 Sam. 19. 17.

Had she refus'ed that safety to her Lord,
Would have incurr'd just danger from his sword.
Now was Sauls wrath full grown; he takes no rest;
A violent Flame rolls in his troubled brest,
And in fierce Lightning from his Eye do's break;
Not his own fav'orites, and best friends dare speak,
Or look on him; but mute and trembling all,
Fear where this Cloud will burst, and Thunder fall.
So when the pride and terrour of the Wood,
A Lyon prickt with rage and want of food,
Espies out from afar some well-fed beast,
And brustles up preparing for his feast;
If that by swiftness scape his gaping jaws;
His bloody eyes he hurls round, his sharp paws
Tear up the ground; then runs he wild about,
Lashing his angry tail, and roaring out.
Beasts creep into their dens, and tremble there;
Trees, though no wind stirring, shake with feare;
Silence and horror fill the place around.
Eccho it self dares scarce repeat the sound.
Midst a large Wood that joyns fair Ramahs Town

1 Sam. 19. 19.

(The neighbourhood fair Rama's chief renown)
A College stands, where at great Prophets feet
The Prophets Sons with silent dili'gence meet,

259

By Samuel built, and mod'erately endow'ed,
Yet more to' his lib'ral Tongue then Hands they ow'ed:
There himself taught, and his blest voice to heare,
Teachers themselves lay proud beneath him there.
The House was a large Square; but plain and low;
Wise Natures use Art strove not to outgo.
An inward Square by well-rang'd Trees was made;
And midst the friendly cover of their shade,
A pure, well-tasted, wholsome Fountain rose;
Which no vain cost of Marble did enclose;
Nor through carv'd shapes did the forc'ed waters pass,
Shapes gazing on themselves i'th' liquid glass.
Yet the chaste stream that 'mong loose peebles fell
For Cleanness, Thirst, Religion serv'd as well.
The Schollars, Doctors and Companions here,
Lodg'ed all apart in neat small chambers were:
Well-furnisht-Chambers, for in each there stood,
A narrow Couch, Table and Chair of wood;
More is but clog where use does bound delight;
And those are rich whose Wealth's proportion'ed right
To their Lifes Form; more goods would but becom
A Burden to them, and contract their room.
A second Court more sacred stood behind,
Built fairer, and to nobler use design'd:
The Halls and Schools one side of it possest;
The Library and Synagogue the rest.
Tables of plain-cut Firre adorn'ed the Hall;
And with beasts skins the beds were cov'red all.
The reverend Doctors take their seats on high,
Th' Elect Companions in their bosoms ly.
The Schollars far below upon the ground,
On fresh-strew'd rushes place themselves around.
With more respect the wise and ancient lay;
But eat not choicer Herbs or Bread then they,
Nor purer Waters drank, their constant feast;
But by great days, and Sacrifice encreast.
The Schools built round and higher, at the end
With their fair circle did this side extend;
To which their Synagogue on th'other side,
And to the Hall their Library replide.

260

The midst tow'ards their large Gardens open lay,
To'admit the joys of Spring and early day.
I'th' Library a few choice Authors stood;
Yet 'twas well stor'ed, for that small store was good;
Writing, Mans Spir'itual Physick was not then
It self, as now, grown a Disease of Men.
Learning (young Virgin) but few Suitors knew;
The common Prostitute she lately grew,
And with her spurious brood loads now the Press;
Laborious effects of Idleness!
Here all the various forms one might behold
How Letters sav'd themselves from Death of old;
Some painfully engrav'ed in thin wrought plates,
Some cut in wood, some lightlier trac'ed on slates;
Some drawn on fair Palm leaves, with short-live'd toyl,
Had not their friend the Cedar lent his Oyl.
Some wrought in Silks, some writ in tender barks;
Some the sharp Stile in waxen Tables marks;
Some in beasts skins, and some in Biblos reed;
Both new rude arts, with age and growth did need.
The Schools were painted well with useful skill;
Stars, Maps, and Stories the learn'd wall did fill.
Wise wholesome Proverbs mixt around the roome,
Some writ, and in Egyptian Figures some.
Here all the noblest Wits of men inspir'ed,
From earths slight joys, and worthless toils retir'ed,
Whom Samuels Fame and Bounty thither lead,
Each day by turns their solid knowledge read.
The course and power of Stars great Nathan thought,
And home to man those distant Wonders brought,
How toward both Poles the Suns fixt journey bends,
And how the Year his crooked walk attends.
By what just steps the wandring Lights advance,
And what eternal measures guid their dance.
Himself a Prophet; but his Lectures shew'ed
How little of that Art to them he ow'ed.
Mahol th'inferior worlds fantastick face,
Though all the turns of Matters Maze did trace,
Great Natures well-set Clock in pieces took;
On all the Springs and smallest Wheels did look

261

Of Life and Motion; and with equal art
Made up again the Whole of ev'ry Part.
The Prophet Gad in learned Dust designes
Th'immortal solid rules of fanci'ed Lines.
Of Numbers too th' unnumbred wealth he showes,
And with them far their endless journey goes.
Numbers which still encrease more high and wide
From One, the root of their turn'd Pyramide.
Of Men, and Ages past Seraiah read;
Embalm'd in long-liv'd History the Dead.
Show'd the steep falls, and slow ascent of States;
What Wisdom and what Follies make their Fates.
Samuel himself did Gods rich Law display;
Taught doubting men with Judgment to obay.
And oft his ravisht Soul with sudden flight
Soar'd above present Times, and humane sight.
These Arts but welcome strangers might appear,
Musick and Verse seem'd born and bred up here;
Scarce the blest Heav'en that rings with Angels voyce,
Does more with constant Harmony rejoyce.
The sacred Muse does here each brest inspire;
Heman, and sweet-mouth'd Asaph rule their Quire:
Both charming Poets, and all strains they plaid,
By artful Breath, or nimble Fingers made.
The Synagogue was drest with care and cost,
(The onely place where that they'esteem'd not lost)
The glittering roof with gold did daze the view,
The sides refresh't with silks of sacred blew.
Here thrice each day they read their perfect Law,
Thrice pray'ers from willing Heav'en a blessing draw;
Thrice in glad Hymns swell'd with the Great Ones praise,
The plyant Voice on her sev'en steps they raise,
Whilst all th' enlivened Instruments around
To the just feet with various concord sound;
Such things were Muses then, contemn'd low earth;
Decently proud, and mindful of their birth.
'Twas God himself that here tun'ed every Toung;
And gratefully of him alone they sung.
They sung how God spoke out the worlds vast ball;
From Nothing, and from No where call'd forth All.

262

No Nature yet, or place for't to possess,
But an unbottom'ed Gulf of Emptiness.
Full of Himself, th' Almighty sat, his own
Palace, and without Solitude Alone.
But he was Goodness whole, and all things will'd;
Which ere they were, his active word fulfill'd;
And their astonisht heads o'th' sudden rear'ed;
An unshap'ed kind of Something first appear'ed,
Confessing its new Being, and undrest
As if it stept in hast before the rest.
Yet buried in this Matters darksome womb,
Lay the rich Seeds of ev'ery thing to com.
From hence the chearful Flame leapt up so high;
Close at its heels the nimble Air did fly;
Dull Earth with his own weight did downwards pierce
To the fixt Navel of the Universe,
And was quite lost in waters: till God said
To the proud Sea, shrink in your ins'olent head,
See how the gaping Earth has made you place;
That durst not murmure, but shrunk in apace.
Since when his bounds are set, at which in vain
He foams, and rages, and turns back again.
With richer stuff he bad Heav'ens fabrick shine,
And from him a quick spring of Light divine
Swell'd up the Sun, from whence his cher'ishing flame
Fills the whole world, like Him from whom it came.
He smooth'd the rough-cast Moons imperfect mold,
And comb'ed her beamy locks with sacred gold;
Be thou (said he) Queen of the mournful night,
And as he spoke, she' arose clad o're in Light,
With thousand stars attending on her train;
With her they rise, with her they set again.
Then Herbs peep'ed forth, new Trees admiring stood,
And smelling Flow'ers painted the infant wood.
Then flocks of Birds through the glad ayr did flee,
Joyful, and safe before Mans Luxurie,
Teaching their Maker in their untaught lays:
Nay the mute Fish witness no less his praise.
For those he made, and cloath'd with silver scales;
From Minoes to those living Islands, Whales.

263

Beasts too were his command: what could he more?
Yes, Man he could, the bond of all before;
In him he all things with strange order hurl'd;
In him, that full Abridgment of the World.

This, and much more of Gods great works they told;
His mercies, and some judgments too of old:
How when all earth was deeply stain'd in sin;
With an impetuous noyse the waves came rushing in.
Where birds e're while dwelt, and securely sung;
There Fish (an unknown Net) entangled hung.
The face of shi[pw]rackt Nature naked lay;
The Sun peep'd forth, and beheld nought but Sea.
This men forgot, and burnt in lust again;
Till show'rs, strange as their Sin, of fiery rain,
And scalding brimstone, dropt on Sodoms head;
Alive they felt those Flames they fry in Dead.
No better end rash Pharaohs pride befel
When wind and Sea wag'ed war for Israel.
In his gilt chariots amaz'ed fishes sat,
And grew with corps of wretched Princes fat.
The waves and rocks half-eaten bodies stain;
Nor was it since call'd the Red-sea in vain.
Much too they told of faithful Abrams fame,
To whose blest passage they owe still their Name:
Of Moses much, and the great seed of Nun;
What wonders they perform'd, what lands they won.
How many Kings they slew or Captive brought;
They held the Swords, but God and Angels fought.

Thus gain'd they the wise spending of their days;
And their whole Life was their dear Makers praise.
No minutes rest, no swiftest thought they sold
To that beloved Plague of Mankind, Gold.
Gold for which all mankind with greater pains
Labour towards Hell, then those who dig its veins.
Their wealth was the Contempt of it; which more
They valu'd then rich fools the shining Ore.
The Silk-worm's pretious death they scorn'd to wear,
And Tyrian Dy appear'd but sordid there.
Honor, which since the price of Souls became,
Seem'd to these great ones a low idle Name.

264

Instead of Down, hard beds they chose to have,
Such as might bid them not forget their Grave.
Their Board dispeopled no full Element,
Free Natures bounty thriftily they spent
And spar'ed the Stock; nor could their bodies say
We owe this Crudeness t'Excess yesterday.
Thus Souls live cleanly, and no soiling fear,
But entertain their welcome Maker there.
The Senses perform nimbly what they're bid,
And honestly, nor are by Reason chid.
And when the Down of sleep does softly fall,
Their Dreams are heavenly then, and mystical.
With hasty wings Time present they outfly,
And tread the doubtful Maze of Destiny.
There walk and sport among the years to come;
And with quick Eye pierce ev'ery Causes womb.
Thus these wise Saints enjoy'd their Little All;
Free from the spight of much-mistaken Saul:
For if mans Life we in just ballance weight,
David deserv'd his Envy less then They.
Of this retreat the hunted Prince makes choice,
Adds to their Quire his nobler Lyre and Voyce.
But long unknown even here he could not lye;
So bright his Lustre, so quick Envies Eye!
Th'offended Troop, whom he escap'ed before,

1 Sam. 19. 20.

Pursue him here, and fear mistakes no more;
Belov'ed revenge fresh rage to them affords;
Some part of him all promise to their Swords.

They came, but a new spirit their hearts possest,
Scatt'ring a sacred calm through every brest:
The furrows of their brow, so rough erewhile,
Sink down into the dimples of a Smile.
Their cooler veins swell with a peaceful tide,
And the chaste streams with even current glide.
A sudden day breaks gently through their eyes,
And Morning-blushes in their cheeks arise.
The thoughts of war, of blood, and murther cease;
In peaceful tunes they adore the God of Peace.
New Messengers twice more the Tyrant sent,

Ib. v. 21.

And was twice more mockt with the same event.

265

His heightned rage no longer brooks delay;
It sends him there himself; but on the way
His foolish Anger a wise Fury grew,

Ib. v. 23.

And Blessings from his mouth unbidden flew.
His Kingly robes he laid at Naioth down,
Began to understand and scorn his Crown;
Employ'd his mounting thoughts on nobler things;
And felt more solid joys then Empire brings.
Embrac'ed his wondring Son, and on his head
The balm of all past wounds, kind Tears he shed.

So cov'etous Balam with a fond intent

Num. 22.

Of cursing the blest Seed, to Moab went.
But as he went his fatal tongue to sell;
His Ass taught him to speak, God to speak well.

Ib. v. 28.

How comely are thy Tents, oh Israel!

Num. 24. 5.

(Thus he began) what conquests they foretel!
Less fair are Orchards in their autumn pride,
Adorn'd with Trees on some fair Rivers side.
Less fair are Valleys their green mantles spread!
Or Mountains with tall Cedars on their head!
'Twas God himself (thy God who must not fear?)
Brought thee from Bondage to be Master here.
Slaughter shall wear out these; new Weapons get;
And Death in triumph on thy darts shall sit.
When Judahs Lyon starts up to his prey,
The Beasts shall hang their ears, and creep away.
When he lies down, the Woods shall silence keep,
And dreadful Tygers tremble at his sleep.
Thy Cursers, Jacob, shall twice cursed be;
And he shall bless himself that blesses Thee.

283

DAVIDEIS.

The second Book.

THE CONTENTS.

The Friendship betwixt Jonathan and David; and upon that occasion a digression concerning the nature of Love. A discourse between Jonathan and David, upon which the latter absents himself from Court, and the former goes thither, to inform himself of Sauls resolution. The Feast of the New-Moon, the manner of the Celebration of it; and therein a Digression of the History of Abraham. Sauls Speech upon Davids absence from the Feast, and his anger against Jonathan. Davids resolution to fly away; he parts with Jonathan, and falls asleep under a Tree. A Description of Phansie; an Angel makes up a Vision in Davids head; the Vision it self, which is, A Prophesie of all the succession of his Race till Christs time, with their most remarkable actions. At his awaking, Gabriel assumes an humane shape, and confirms to him the truth of his Vision.

284

But now the early birds began to call
The morning forth; up rose the Sun and Saul;
Both, as men thought, rose fresh from sweet repose;
But both, alas, from restless labours rose.
For in Sauls breast, Envy, the toilsome Sin,
Had all that night active and ty'rannous bin,
She'expell'd all forms of Kindness, Vertue, Grace;
Of the past day no footstep left or trace.
The new-blown sparks of his old rage appear,
Nor could his Love dwell longer with his fear.
So near a storm wise David would not stay,
Nor trust the glittering of a faithless Day.
He saw the Sun call in his beams apace,
And angry Clouds march up into their place.
The Sea it self smooths his rough brow awhile,
Flattering the greedy Merchant with a smile;
But he, whose ship-wrackt Barque it drank before,
Sees the deceit, and knows it would have more.
Such is the Sea, and such was Saul.
But Jonathan, his Son, and Only Good,
Was gentle as fair Jordans useful Flood.
Whose innocent stream as it in silence goes,
Fresh Honours, and a sudden spring bestows
On both his banks to every flower and tree;
The manner How lies hid, th'effect we see.
But more than all, more than Himself he lov'ed
The man whose worth his Fathers Hatred mov'ed.
For when the noble youth at Dammin stood

285

Adorn'd with sweat, and painted gay with Blood,
Jonathan pierce'd him through with greedy Eye
And understood the future Majestie

1 Sam. 18. 1.

Then destin'ed in the glories of his look;
He saw, and strait was with amazement strook,
To see the strength, the feature, and the grace
Of his young limbs; he saw his comely face
Where Love and Rev'erence so well mingled were;
And Head, already crown'd with golden haire.
He saw what Mildness his bold Sp'irit did tame,
Gentler then Light, yet powerful as a Flame.
He saw his Valour by their Safety prov'ed;
He saw all this, and as he saw, he Lov'ed.

What art thou, Love, thou great mysterious thing?
From what hid stock does thy strange Nature spring?
'Tis thou that mov'est the world through every part
And holdst the vast frame close, that nothing start
From the due Place and Office first ordain'd.
By Thee were all things Made, and are sustain'd.
Sometimes we see thee fully, and can say
From hence thou took'est thy Rise, and went'st that way;
But oftner the short beams of Reasons Eye,
See onely, There thou art, nor How, nor Why.
How is the Loadstone, Natures subtle pride,
By the rude Iron woo'd, and made a Bride?
How was the Weapon wounded? what hid Flame
The strong and conqu'ering Metal overcame?
Love (this Worlds Grace) exalts his Natural state;
He feels thee, Love, and feels no more his Weight.
Ye learned Heads, whom Ivy garlands grace,
Why does that twining plant the Oak embrace?
The Oak for courtship most of all unfit,
And rough as are the Winds that fight with it?
How does the absent Pole the Needle move?
How does his Cold and Ice beget hot Love?
Which are the Wings of Lightness to ascend?
Or why does Weight to th' Centre downwards bend?
Thus Creatures void of Life obey thy Laws,
And seldom We, they never know the Cause.
In thy large state, Life gives the next degree,

286

Where Sense, and Good Apparent places thee;
But thy chief Palace is Mans Heart alone,
Here are thy Triumphs, and full glories shown,
Handsome Desires, and Rest about thee flee,
Union, Inhærence, Zeal, and Extasie.
Thousand with Joys cluster around thine head,
O're which a gall-less Dove her wings does spread,
A gentle Lamb, purer and whiter farre
Then Consciences of thine own Martyrs are,
Lies at thy feet; and thy right hand does hold
The mystick Scepter of a Cross of Gold.
Thus do'est thou sit (like Men e're sin had fram'ed
A guilty blush) Naked, but not Asham'ed.
What cause then did the fab'ulous Ancients find,
When first their superstition made thee blind?
'Twas They, alas, 'twas They who could not see,
When they mistook that Monster, Lust, for Thee.
Thou art a bright, but not consuming Flame;
Such in th'amazed Bush to Moses came;

Exo. 3. 1.

When that secure its new-crown'd head did rear,
And chid the trembling Branches needless fear.
Thy Darts of healthful Gold, and downwards fall
Soft as the Feathers that they're fletcht withal.
Such, and no other, were those secret Darts,
Which sweetly toucht this noblest pair of Hearts.
Still to one end they both so justly drew,
As courteous Doves together yok'd would do.
No weight of Birth did on one side prevaile,
Two Twins less even lie in Natures Scale.
They mingled Fates, and both in each did share,
They both were Servants, they both Princes were.
If any Joy to one of them was sent,
It was most his, to whom it least was meant,
And fortunes malice betwixt both was crost,
For striking one, it wounded th'other most.
Never did Marriage such true Union find,
Or mens desires with so glad violence bind;
For there is still some tincture left of Sin,
And still the Sex will needs be stealing in.
Those joys are full of dross, and thicker farre,

287

These, without matter, clear and liquid are.
Such sacred Love does he'avens bright Spirits fill,
Where Love is but to Understand and Will,
With swift and unseen Motions; such as We
Somewhat express in heightned Charitie.
O ye blest One! whose Love on earth became
So pure that still in Heav'en 'tis but the same!
There now ye sit, and with mixt souls embrace,
Gazing upon great Loves mysterious Face,
And pity this base world where Friendship's made
A bait for sin, or else at best a Trade.
Ah wondrous Prince! who a true Friend could'st be,
When a Crown Flatter'ed, and Saul threatned Thee!
Who held'st him dear, whose Stars thy birth did cross!
And bought'st him nobly at a Kingdoms loss!
Isra'els bright Scepter far less glory brings;
There have been fewer Friends on earth then Kings.

To this strange pitch their high affections flew;
Till Natures self scarce look'd on them as Two.
Hither flies David for advice and ayde,

1 Sam. 20. 1.

As swift as Love and Danger could perswade,
As safe in Jonathans trust his thoughts remain
As when Himself but dreams them o're again.

My dearest Lord, farewel (said he) farewel;
He'aven bless the King; may no misfortune tell
Th'injustice of his hate, when I am dead;
They'are coming now, perhaps; my guiltless head
Here in your sight, perhaps, must bleeding ly,
And scarce your own stand safe for being nigh.
Think me not scar'ed with death, howere't appear,
I know thou can'st not think so: tis a fear
From which thy Love, and Dammin speaks me free;
I'have met him face to face, and ne're could see
One terrour in his looks to make me fly
When Vertue bids me stand; but I would dy
So as becomes my Life, so as may prove
Sauls Malice, and at least excuse your Love.

He stopt, and spoke some passion with his eyes;
Excellent Friend (the gallant Prince replyes)
Thou hast so prov'd thy Virtues, that they're known

288

To all good men, more then to each his own.
Who lives in Israel, that can doubtful be
Of thy great actions? for he lives by Thee.
Such is thy Valour, and thy vast success,
That all things but thy Loyalty are less.
And should my Father at thy ruine aim,
'Twould wound as much his Safety as his Fame.
Think them not coming then to slay thee here,
But doubt mishaps, as little as you feare.
For by thy loving God who e're design
Against thy Life must strike at it through Mine.
But I my royal Father must acquit
From such base guilt, or the low thought of it.
Think on his softness when from death he freed
The faithless King of Am'alecks cursed seed;

1 Sam. 15. 9.

Can he to'a Friend, to'a Son so bloudy grow,
He who ev'n sin'd but now to spare a Foe?
Admit he could; but with what strength or art
Could he so long close, and seal up his heart?
Such counsels jealous of themselves become,
And dare not fix without consent of some.
Few men so boldly ill, great sins to do,
Till licens'ed and approv'ed by others too.
No more (believe't) could he hide this from me,

1 Sam. 20. 2.

Then I, had he discover'd it, from Thee.

Here they embraces join, and almost tears;
Till gentle David thus new prov'd his fears.
The praise you pleas'd (great Prince) on me to spend
Was all out-spoken when you stil'd me Friend.
That name alone does dang'erous glories bring,
And gives excuse to th' Envy of a King,
What did his Spear, force, and dark plots impart
But some eternal rancour in his heart?
Still does he glance the fortune of that day
When drown'd in his own blood Goliah lay,
And cover'd half the plain; still hears the sound
How that vast Monster fell, and strook the ground:
The Dance, and, David his ten thousand slew,
Still wound his sickly soul, and still are new.
Great acts t'ambitious Princes Treasons grow,

289

So much they hate that Safety which they ow.
Tyrants dread all whom they raise high in place,
From the Good, danger; from the Bad, disgrace.
They doubt the Lords, mistrust the Peoples hate,
Till Blood become a Principle of State.
Secur'd nor by their Guards, nor by their Right,
But still they Fear ev'en more then they Affright.
Pardon me, Sir, your Father's rough and stern:
His Will too strong to bend, too proud to learn.
Remember, Sir, the Honey's deadly sting;
Think on that savage Justice of the King.
When the same day that saw you do before
Things above Man, should see you Man no more.
'Tis true th'accursed Agag mov'ed his ruth,
He pitied his tall Limbs and comely youth
Had seen, alas the proof of heav'ens fierce hate,
And fear'd no mischief from his powerless fate.
Remember how th'old Seer came raging down,
And taught him boldly to suspect his Crown.
Since then his pride quakes at th' Almighties rod,
Nor dares he love the man belov'ed by God.
Hence his deep rage and trembling Envy springs;
Nothing so wild as Jealousie of Kings.
Whom should he counsel ask, with whom advise,
Who Reason and Gods counsel does despise?
Whose head-strong will no Law or Conscience daunt,
Dares he not sin, do'you think, without your grant?
Yes, if the truth of our fixt love he knew,
He would not doubt, believe't, to kill ev'en you.

The Prince is mov'ed, and straight prepares to find
The deep resolves of his griev'd Fathers mind.
The danger now appears, Love can soon show't,
And force his Stubborn piety to know't.
They 'agree that David should conceal'd abide,

1 Sam. 20. 5. &c.

Till his great friend had the Courts temper tryde,
Till he had Sauls most secret purpose found,
And searcht the depth and rancour of his wound.

'Twas the years seventh-born Moon; the solemn Feast

Lev. 23. 24. Nu. 26. 1.

That with most noise its sacred mirth exprest.
From op'ening Morn till night shuts in the day,

290

On Trumpets and shrill Horns the Levites play.
Whether by this in mystick Type we see
The New-years-Day of great Eternitie,
When the chang'd Moon shall no more changes make,
And scatter'd Deaths by Trumpets sound awake;
Or that the Law be kept in Mem'ory still,

Exo. 19. 19.

Giv'en with like noise on Sina's shining Hill,
Or that (as some men teach) it did arise
From faithful Abrams righteous Sacrifice,
Who whilst the Ram on Isaac's fire did fry,
His Horn with joyful tunes stood sounding by.
Obscure the Cause; but God his will declar'ed;
And all nice knowledge then with ease is spar'ed.
At the third hour Saul to the hallowed Tent
Midst a large train of Priests and Courtiers went;
The sacred Herd marcht proud and softly by;
Too fat and gay to think their deaths so nigh.
Hard fate of Beasts, more innocent than We!
Prey to our Lux'ury, and our Pietie!
Whose guiltless blood on boards and Altars spilt,
Serves both to Make, and Expiate too our guilt!
Three Bullocks of free neck, two guilded Rams,
Two well-washt Goats, and fourteen spotless Lambs,
With the three vital fruits, Wine, Oyl, and Bread,
(Small fees to heav'en of all by which we're fed)
Are offer'ed up; the hallowed flames arise,
And faithful pray'rs mount with them to the skies.
From thence the King to th'outmost Court is brought,
Where heav'enly things an inspir'ed Prophet taught,
And from the sacred Tent to 'his Palace gates,
With glad kind shouts th' Assembly on him waites;
The chearful Horns before him loudly play,
And fresh-strew'd flowers paint his triumphant way.
Thus in slow state to th' Palace Hall they go,
Rich drest for solemn Luxury and Show;
Ten pieces of bright Tap'estry hung the room,
The noblest work e're stretcht on Syrian loom;
For wealthy Adri'el in proud Sydon wrought
And giv'en to Saul when Sauls best gift he sought

1 Sam. 18. 19.

The bright-ey'd Merab; for that mindful day

291

No ornament so proper seem'd as they.

There all old Abrams story you might see;
And still some Angel bore him companie.
His painful, but well-guided Travels, show
The fate of all his Sons, the Church below.
Here beauteous Sara to great Pharo came,

Gen. 21. 14.

He blusht with sudden passion, she with shame;
Troubled she seem'd, and lab'oring in the strife
'Twixt her own Honor, and her Husbands Life.
Here on a conqu'ering Host that careless lay,
Drown'd in the joys of their new gotten prey,

Gen. 14.

The Patriarch falls; well mingled might you see
The confus'd marks of Death and Luxury.
In the next piece blest Salems mystick King

Gen. 14. 18.

Does sacred Presents to the Victor bring;
Like him whose Type he bears, his rights receives;
Strictly requires his Due, yet freely gives.
Ev'en in his port, his habit, and his face;
The Mild, and Great, the Priest and Prince had place.
Here all their starry host the heavens display;

Gen. 15. 5.

And, Lo, an heav'enly Youth, more fair then they,
Leads Abram forth; points upwards; such, said he,
So bright and numberless thy Seed shall be.
Here he with God a new Alliance makes,

Gen. 17.

And in his flesh the marks of Homage takes;
Here he the three mysterious persons feasts,

Gen. 18. 2. Ver. 10.

Well paid with joyful tidings by his Guests.
Here for the wicked Town he prays, and near

Gen. 18. 23. Gen. 19. 24.

Scarce did the wicked Town through Flames appear.
And all his Fate, and all his Deeds were wrought,
Since he from

Gen. 11. 31.

Ur to

Gen. 25. 9.

Ephrons cave was brought.
But none 'mongst all the forms drew then their eyes
Like faithful Abrams righteous Sacrifice.

Gen. 22. Ver. 3.

The sad old man mounts slowly to the place,
With Natures power triumphant in his face
O're the Minds courage; for in spight of all
From his swoln eyes resistless waters fall.
The inn'ocent Boy his cruel burthen bore

Ver. 6.

With smiling looks, and sometimes walk'd before,
And sometimes turn'd to talk; above was made

292

The Altars fatal Pile, and on it laid

Ver. 9.

The Hope of Mankind; patiently he lay,
And did his Syre, as he his God, obey.
The mournful Syre lifts up at last the knife,
And on one moments string depends his life

Ver. 10.

In whose young loyns such brooding wonders ly.
A thousand Spir'its peep'd from th'affrighted sky,
Amaz'ed at this strange Scene; and almost fear'd,
For all those joyful Prophesies they'd heard.
Till one leapt nimbly forth by Gods command

Ver. 11.

Like Lightning from a Cloud, and stopt his hand.
The gentle Spirit smil'ed kindly as he spoke,
New beames of joy through Abrams wonder broke.
The Angel points to'a tuft of bushes near,

Ver. 13.

Where an entangled Ram does half appear,
And struggles vainly with that fatal net,
Which though but slightly wrought, was firmly set.
For, lo, anon, to this sad glory doom'd,
The useful Beast on Isaac's Pile consum'ed;
Whilst on his Horns the ransom'ed couple plaid,
And the glad Boy danc'd to the tunes he made.

Near this Halls end a Shittim Table stood;
Yet well-wrought plate strove to conceal the wood.
For from the foot a golden vine did sprout,
And cast his fruitful riches all about.
Well might that beauteous Ore the Grape express,
Which does weak Man intoxicate no less.
Of the same wood the guilded beds were made,
And on them large embroidered carpets laid,
From Egypt the rich shop of Follies brought,
But Arts of Pride all Nations soon are taught.
Behold sev'en comely blooming Youths appear,
And in their hands sev'en silver washpots bear,
Curl'd, and gay clad; the choicest Sons that be
Of Gibeons race, and Slaves of high degree.
Seven beauteous Maids marcht softly in behind;
Bright scarfs their cloathes, their hair fresh Garlands bind,
And whilst the Princes wash, they on them shed
Rich Oyntments, which their costly odours spread
O're the whole room; from their small prisons free

293

With such glad haste through the wide ayr they flee.
The King was plac'ed alone, and o're his head

1 Sam. 20. 25.

A well-wrought Heav'en of silk and gold was spread.
Azure the ground, the Sun in gold shone bright,
But pierc'd the wandring Clouds with silver light.
The right hand bed the Kings three Sons did grace,
The third was Abners, Adriels, Davids place.
And twelve large Tables more were fill'd below,
With the prime men Sauls Court and Camp could show;
The Palace did with mirth and musick sound,
And the crown'd goblets nimbly mov'ed around.
But though bright joy in every guest did shine,
The plenty, state, musick, and sprightful wine
Were lost on Saul; an angry care did dwell
In his dark brest, and all gay forms expell.
Davids unusual absence from the feast,

1 Sam. 20. 26. 27.

To his sick spir'it did jealous thoughts suggest.
Long lay he still, nor drank, nor eat, nor spoke,
And thus at last his troubled silence broke.

Where can he be? said he; It must be so:
With that he paused awhile; Too well we know
His boundless pride: he grieves and hates to see
The solemn triumphs of my Court and Me.
Believe me, friends, and trust what I can show
From thousand proofs, th'ambitious David now
Does those vast things in his proud soul design
That too much business give for Mirth or Wine.
He's kindling now perhaps, rebellious fire
Among the Tribes, and does ev'n now conspire
Against my Crown, and all our Lives, whilst we
Are loth ev'en to suspect, what we might See.
By the Great Name, 'tis true.
With that he strook the board, and no man there
But Jonathan durst undertake to clear

1 Sam. 20. 28. 29.

The blameless Prince; and scarce ten words he spoke,
When thus his speech th'enraged Tyrant broke.

V. 30. 31.

Disloyal Wretch! thy gentle Mothers shame!
Whose cold pale Ghost ev'en blushes at thy name!
Who fears lest her chast bed should doubted be,
And her white fame stain'd by black deeds of thee!

294

Can'st thou be Mine? a Crown sometimes does hire
Ev'en Sons against their Parents to conspire,
But ne're did story yet, or fable tell
Of one so wild, who meerly to Rebel
Quitted th'unquestion'd birthright of a Throne,
And bought his Fathers ruine with his own:
Thou need'st not plead th'ambitious youths defence;
Thy crime clears his, and makes that Innocence.
Nor can his foul Ingratitude appear,
Whilst thy unnatural guilt is plac'ed so near.
Is this that noble Friendship you pretend?
Mine, thine own Foe, and thy worst En'emies Friend?
If thy low spirit can thy great birthright quit,
The thing's but just, so ill deserv'est thou it.
I, and thy Brethren here have no such mind;
Nor such prodigious worth in David find,
That we to him should our just rights resign,
Or think Gods choice not made so well as Thine.
Shame of thy House and Tribe! hence, from mine Eye,
To thy false Friend, and servile Master fly;
He's e're this time in arms expecting thee;
Haste, for those arms are rais'ed to ruine Mee.
Thy sin that way will nobler much appear,
Then to remain his Spy and Agent here.
When I think this, Nature by thee forsook,
Forsakes me too. With that his spear he took
To strike at him; the mirth and musick cease;
The guests all rise this sudden storm t'appease;

Ver. 33.

The Prince his danger, and his duty knew;

Ver. 34.

And low he bow'd, and silently withdrew.

To David strait, who in a forest nigh

Ver. 35.

Waits his advice, the royal Friend does fly.
The sole advice, now like the danger clear,
Was in some foreign land this storm t'outwear.
All marks of comely grief in both are seen;
And mournful kind discourses past between.
Now generous tears their hasty tongues restrain,

Ver. 42.

Now they begin, and talk all o're again
A reverent Oath of constant love they take,

Ver. 42.

And Gods high name their dreaded witness make;

295

Not that at all their Faiths could doubtful prove;
But 'twas the tedious zeal of endless Love.
Thus e're they part, they the short time bestow
In all the pomp Friendship and Grief could show.
And David now with doubtful cares opprest,
Beneath a shade borrows some little rest;
When by command divine thick mists arise,
And stop the Sense, and close the conque'red eyes.
There is a place which Man most high doth rear,
The small Worlds Heav'en, where Reason moves the Sphære.
Here in a robe which does all colours show,
(The envy of birds, and the clouds gawdy bow)
Phansie, wild Dame, with much lascivious pride
By twin-Chamelions drawn, does gaily ride.
Her coach there follows, and throngs round about
Of shapes and airy Forms an endless rout.
A Sea rowls on with harmless fury here;
Straight 'tis a field, and trees and herbs appeare.
Here in a moment are vast Armies made,
And a quick Scene of war and blood displaid.
Here sparkling wines, and brighter Maids come in,
The bawds for sense and lying baits of sin.
Some things arise of strange and quarr'elling kind,
The forepart Lyon, and a Snake behind;
Here golden mountains swell the cove'tous place,
And Cenatures ride Themselves a painted race.
Of these slight wonders Nature sees the store,
And onely then accounts herself but poore.

Hither an Angel comes in Davids trance;
And finds them mingled in an antique dance;
Of all the numerous forms fit choice he takes,
And joyns them wisely, and this Vision makes.

First David there appears in Kingly state,
Whilst the twelve Tribes his dread commands await;
Straight to the wars with his joyn'd strength he goes,

2 Sam. 5. 1. 1 Chro. 12. 23. Ver. 6.

Settles new friends, and frights his ancient Foes.
To Solima, Cana'ans old head, they came,
(Since high in note, then not unknown to Fame)
The Blind and Lame th'undoubted wall defend,

2 Sam. 5. 6.

And no new wounds or dangers apprehend.

296

The busie image of great Joab there
Disdains the mock, and teaches them to fear.
He climbs the airy walls, leaps raging down,
New-minted shapes of slaughter fill the town.
They curse the guards their mirth and bravery chose;
All of them now are slain, or made like those.
Far through an inward Scene an Army lay,
Which with full banners a fair Fish display.
From Sidon plains to happy Egypts coast

2 Sam. 5. 17. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22. 1 Chron. 14. 8.

They seem all met; a vast and warlike Hoast.
Thither hasts David to his destin'ed prey,
Honor, and noble Danger lead the way;
The conscious Trees shook with a reverent fear

Ver. 22, 23. 24.

Their unblown tops; God walkt before him there.

1 Chro. 14. 14.

Slaughter the wearied Riphaims bosom fills,
Dead corps imboss the vail with little hills.
On th'other side Sophenes mighty King

2 Sam. 8. 3. 1 Chro. 18. 3. Ver. 5. 2 Sam. 10. 6. 1 Chron. 19. 6. & 19. 8.

Numberless troops of the blest East does bring:
Twice are his men cut off, and chariots ta'ne;
Damascus and rich Adad help in vaine.
Here Nabathæan troops in battel stand,
With all the lusty youth of Syrian land;
Undaunted Joab rushes on with speed,
Gallantly mounted on his fiery steed;
He hews down all, and deals his deaths around;
The Syrians leave, or possess dead the ground.
On th' other wing does brave Abishai ride

Ver. 10.

Reeking in blood and dust; on every side
The perjur'd sons of Ammon quit the field,
Some basely dye, and some more basely yield.
Through a thick wood the wretched Hanun flies,
And far more justly then fears Hebrew Spies.
Moloch, their bloody God, thrusts out his head,

2 Sam. 10. 3, 4. 1 Chro. 19. 3.

Grinning through a black cloud; him they'd long fed
In his sev'en Chambers, and he still did eat
New-roasted babes, his dear, delicious meat.
Again they'arise, more ang'red then dismaid;

Ver. 15. 1 Chro. 19. 16.

Euphrates, and Swift Tygris sends them aid:
In vain they send it, for again they're slain,
And feast the greedy birds on Helay plain.

2 Sam. 11. 1. 1 Chr. 20.

297

Here Rabba with proud towers affronts the sky,
And round about great Joabs trenches ly.
They force the walls, and sack the helpless town;

2 Sam. 12. 30. 1 Chro. 20. 2. Ver. 31. 1 Chro. 20. 3. 1 King. 1. 1 Chron. 23. 1. 1 King. 3. 12. 2 Chro. 1. 12. 1 King. 10. Mat. 12. 42. Lu. 11. 31.

On Davids head shines Ammons massy Crown.
Midst various torments the curst race expires,
David himself his severe wrath admires.

Next upon Isra'els throne does bravely sit
A comely Youth endow'ed with wondrous wit.
Far from the parched Line a royal Dame,
To hear his tongue and boundless wisdom came.
She carried back in her triumphant womb
The glorious stock of thousand Kings to come.
Here brightest forms his pomp and wealth display,

2 Chro. 19. 1 King. 6. 2 Chro. 3. & 4. 5.

Here they a Temples vast foundations lay.
A mighty work; and with fit glories fill'd.
For God t'enhabit, and that King to build.
Some from the quarries hew out massy stone,
Some draw it up with cranes, some breathe and grone
In order o're the anvile; some cut down
Tall Cedars, the proud Mountains ancient crown;
Some carve the Truncks, and breathing shapes bestow,
Giving the Trees more life then when they grow;
But, oh (alas) what sudden cloud is spread
About this glorious Kings eclypsed head?

1 King. 11.

It all his fame benights, and all his store,
Wrapping him round, and now he's seen no more.

When straight his Son appears at Sichem crown'd.

1 Kin. 12. 2 Chr. 10.

With young and heedless Council circled round;
Unseemly object! but a falling state
Has always its own errours joyn'd with fate.
Ten Tribes at once forsake the Jessian throne,
And bold Adoram at his Message stone;
Brethren of Israel!—more he fain would say,

Ver. 18. 2 Chro. 10. 18.

But a flint stopt his mouth, and speech i'th'way.
Here this fond Kings disasters but begin,
He's destin'ed to more shame by'his Fathers sin.
Susack comes up, and under his command

1 Ki. 14. 25. 2 Chron. 12. 2.

A dreadful Army from scorcht Africks sand
As numberless as that; all is his prey,
The Temples sacred wealth they bear away;

298

Adrazars shields and golden loss they take;
Ev'n David in his dream does sweat and shake.
Thus fails this wretched Prince; his Loyns appear

1 Kin. 12. 10. 2 Chro. 10. 10.

Of less weight now, then Solomons Fingers were.

Abijah next seeks Isra'el to regain,

1 Ki. 15. 1. 2 Chro. 13. 1. & 13. 3.

And wash in seas of blood his Fathers stain;
Ne're saw the aged Sun so cruel fight,
Scarce saw he this, but hid his bashful light.
Nebats curst son fled with not half his men,
Where were his Gods of Dan and Bethel then?

2 Chron. 13. 17.

Yet could not this the fatal strife decide;
God punisht one, but blest not th'other side.

Asan a just and vertuous Prince succeeds;
High rais'd by fame for great and godly deeds;

2 Ki. 15. 9. 2 Chr. 14. 1. ver. 13. 2 Chro. 14. 3

He cut the solemn groves where Idols stood,
And Sacrific'ed the Gods with their own wood.
He vanquisht thus the proud weak powers of hell,
Before him next their doating servants fell.
So huge an Host of Zerahs men he slew,
As made ev'en that Arabia Desert too.

2 Chr. 14. 9. 2 Chron. 16. 2. ver. 18. 2 Chron. 16. 8.

Why fear'd he then the perjur'd Baasha's fight?
Or bought the dangerous ayd of Syrian's might?
Conquest Heav'ens gift, cannot by man be sold;
Alas, what weakness trusts he? Man and Gold.

Next Josaphat possest the royal state;

2 K. 15. 25. & 22. 43. 2 Chr. 17. 2 Chron. 17. 11.

An happy Prince, well worthy of his fate;
His oft Oblations on Gods Altar made,
With thousand flocks, and thousand herds are paid,
Arabian Tribute! what mad troops are those,
Those mighty Troops that dare to be his foes?
He Prays them dead; with mutual wounds they fall;

2 Chro. 20. 17.

One fury brought, one fury slays them all.
Thus sits he still, and sees himself to win;

1 King. 22. 30. 2 Chro. 18. 19.

Never o'recome but by's Friend Ahabs sin;
On whose disguise fates then did onely look;
And had almost their Gods command mistook.
Him from whose danger heav'en securely brings,

2 King. 3. 14. & 3. 9. & 3. 8.

And for his sake two ripely wicked Kings.
Their Armies languish, burnt with thirst at Seere,
Sighs all their Cold, Tears all their Moisture there.

299

They fix their greedy eyes on th'empty sky,
And fansie clouds, and so become more dry.
Elisha calls for waters from afarre

2 Ki. 3. 13.

To come; Elisha calls, and here they are.
In helmets they quaff round the welcome flood;
And the decrease repair with Moabs blood.

2 Ki. 3. 24. 2 Ki. 8. 16. & 8. 25. 2 Chr. 21. 1. & 22. 1. 2 Kin. 11. 1. 2 Chron. 22. 10.

Jehoram next, and Ochoziah throng
For Judahs Scepter; both short-liv'd too long.
A Woman too from Murther Title claims;
Both with her Sins and Sex the Crown she shames.
Proud cursed Woman! but her fall at last
To doubting men clears heav'en for what was past.
Joas at first does bright and glorious show;

2 King. 12. 2 Chro. 24.

In lifes fresh morn his fame did early crow.
Fair was the promise of his dawning ray,
But Prophets angry blood o'recast his day.
From thence his clouds, from thence his storms begin,

2 Chro. 24. 21. 2 Ki. 12. 18. 2 Chro. 24. 23. 2 Kin. 14. 2 Chro. 25.

It cryes aloud, and twice let's Aram in.
So Amaziah lives, so ends his raign;
Both by their Trayt'erous servants justly slain.
Edom at first dreads his victorious hand,

2 Ki. 14. 7. 2 Chron. 25. 11. & 25. 12.

Before him thousand Captives trembling stand.
Down a prec'ipice deep, down he casts them all,
The mimick shapes in several postures fall.
But then (mad fool!) he does those Gods adore,

2 Chron. 25. 14. 2 K. 14. 13. 2 Chron. 25. 23.

Which when pluckt down, had worshipt him before.
Thus all his life to come is loss and shame;
No help from Gods who themselves helpt not, came.

All this Uzziahs strength and wit repairs,

2 Ki. 15. 1. 2 Chr. 26.

Leaving a well-built greatness to his Heirs.
Till leprous scurff o're his whole body cast,

2 Ki. 15. 5. 2 Chr. 26. 19.

Takes him at first from Men, from Earth at last.
As vertuous was his Son, and happier far;

2 K. 15. 32. 2 Chr. 27. 2 Chr. 27. 4.

Buildings his Peace, and Trophies grac'ed his War.
But Achaz heaps up sins, as if he meant

2 Ki. 16. 1. 2 Chr. 28. 2 Ki. 16. 3. 2 Chr. 28. 3.

To make his worst forefathers innocent.
He burns his Son at Hinon, whilst around
The roaring child drums and loud Trumpets sound.
This to the boy a barb'arous mercy grew,
And snatcht him from all mis'eries to ensue.

300

Here Peca comes, and hundred thousands fall,

2 Ki. 16. 5. 2 Chro. 28. 6.

Here Rezin marches up, and sweeps up all:
Till like a Sea the Great Belochus Son

2 Ki. 16. 7.

Breaks upon both, and both does over-run.
The last of Adads ancient stock is slain,
Isra'el captiv'ed, and rich Damascus ta'ne.

2 Ki. 16. 9. & 15. 27.

All this wild rage to revenge Juda's wrong;
But wo to Kingdoms that have Friends too strong!

2 Chro. 28. 20. 2 Kin. 18. 2 Chr. 29. 2 Ki. 18. 7.

Thus Hezechiah the torn Empire took,
And Assurs King with his worse Gods forsook,
Who to poor Juda worlds of Nations brings,
There rages; utters vain and Mighty things,

2 King. 18. 17. 2 Chr. 32. Isa. 36.

Some dream of triumphs, and exalted names,
Some of dear gold, and some of beauteous dames;
Whilst in the midst of their huge sleepy boast,

2 K. 19. 35. 2 Chron. 32. 21. 2 K. 19. 37. 2 Chr. 32. 21.

An Angel scatters death through all the hoast.
Th'affrighted Tyrant back to Babel hies,
There meets an end far worse then that he flies.
Here Hezekiahs life is almost done!
So good, and yet, alas! so short 'tis spunne.
Th'end of the Line was ravell'd, weak and old;
Time must go back, and afford better hold

2 Kin. 20. 2 Chr. 32. 24.

To tye a new thread to'it, of fifteen years;
'Tis done; Th'almighty power of prayer and tears!
Backward the Sun, an unknown motion, went;

2 K. 20. 11. 2 Chr. 32.

The Stars gaz'ed on, and wondred what he meant:
Manasses next (forgetful man!) begins;

2 Kin. 21. 2 Chr. 33.

Enslav'ed, and sold to Ashur by his sins.
Till by the rod of learned mis'ery taught,
Home to his God and Countrey both he's brought.
It taught not Ammon, nor his hardness brake;

2 K. 21. 19. 2 Chro. 33. 21. 2 Kin. 22. 2 Kin. 23.

He's made th'Example he refus'd to take.

Yet from this root a goodly Cyon springs;
Josiah best of Men, as well as Kings.
Down went the Calves with all their gold and cost;
The Preists then truly griev'ed, Osyris lost,
These mad Egyptian rites till now remain'd;
Fools! they their worser thraldome still retain'd!
In his own Fires Moloch to ashes fell,

2 Kin. 23. 10. Ib. v. 13.

And no more flames must have besides his Hell.

301

Like end Astartes horned Image found,
And Baals spired stone to dust was ground.
No more were Men in female habit seen,
Or They in Mens by the lewd Syrian Queen.
No lustful Maids at Benos Temple sit,
And with their bodies shame their marriage get.
The double Dagon neither nature saves,
Nor flies She back to th'Erythræan waves.
The trav'elling Sun sees gladly from on high

2 King. 23 11.

His Chariots burn, and Nergal quenched ly.
The Kings impartial Anger lights on all,
From fly-blown Acca'ron to the thundring Baâl.
Here Davids joy unruly grows and bold;
Nor could Sleeps silken chain its vio'lence hold;
Had not the Angel to seal fast his eyes
The humors stirr'd, and bad more mists arise:
When straight a Chariot hurries swift away,
And in it good Josiah bleeding lay.
One hand's held up, one stops the wound; in vain
They both are us'd; alas, he's slain, he's slain.

Jehoias and Jehoikim next appear;

2 King. 23. 31. Ib. v. 26. 2 Chr. 36. 1. & 5. 2 K. 23. 34. 2 Chro. 36. 4. Jer. 36. 30. 2 Ki. 24. 8. 2 Chro. 36.

Both urge that vengeance which before was near.
He in Egyptian fetters captive dies,
Thus by more courteous anger murther'd lies.
His Son and Brother next do bonds sustain,
Isra'els now solemn and imperial Chain.
Her'es the last Scene of this proud Cities state;
All ills are met ty'ed in one knot of Fate.
Their endless slavery in this tryal lay;
Great God had heapt up Ages in one Day:
Strong works around the wall the Caldees build,
The Town with grief and dreadful bus'iness fill'd.

2 Kin. 25. 1. Jer. 52. 4.

To their carv'ed Gods the frantick women pray,
Gods which as near their ruine were as they.
At last in rushes the prevailing foe,
Does all the mischief of proud conquest show.
The wondring babes from mothers breasts are rent,
And suffer ills they neither fear'd nor meant.

2 Chr. 36. 17.

No silver rev'erence guards the stooping age,
No rule or method ties their boundless rage.

302

The glorious Temple shines in flame all o're,

2 Chro. 36. 19. 2 King. 25. 9.

Yet not so bright as in its Gold before.
Nothing but fire or slaughter meets the eyes,
Nothing the ear but groans and dismal cryes.
The walls and towers are levi'ed with the ground,
And scarce ought now of that vast Citie's found
But shards and rubbish which weak signs might keep
Of forepast glory, and bid Trav'ellers weep.
Thus did triumphant Assur homewards pass,
And thus Jerus'alem left, Jerusalem that was.

Thus Zedechiah saw, and this not all;
Before his face his Friends and Children fall,

2 Kin. 25. 7. Jer. 52. 10.

The sport of ins'olent victors; this he viewes,
A King and Father once; ill fate could use
His eyes no more to do their master spight;
All to be seen she took, and next his Sight.
Thus a long death in prison he outwears;
Bereft of griefs last solace, ev'en his Tears.

Then Jeconiahs son did foremost come,

Mat. 1. 12. Luk. 3.

And he who brought the captiv'ed nation home;
A row of Worthies in long order past
O're the short stage; of all old Joseph last.
Fair Angels past by next in seemly bands,
All gilt, with gilded basquets in their hands.
Some as they went the blew-ey'd violets strew,
Some spotless Lilies in loose order threw.
Some did the way with full-blown roses spread;
Their smell divine and colour strangely red;
Not such as our dull gardens proudly wear,
Whom weathers taint, and winds rude kisses tear.
Such, I believe, was the first Roses hew,
Which at Gods word in beauteous Eden grew.
Queen of the Flowers, which made that Orchard gay,
The morning blushes of the Springs new Day.

With sober pace an heav'enly Maid walks in,
Her looks all fair; no sign of Native sin
Through her whole body writ; Immod'erate Grace
Spoke things far more then humane in her face.
It casts a dusky gloom o're all the flow'rs;
And with full beams their mingled Light devowrs.

303

An Angel straight broke from a shining clowd,
And prest his wings, and with much reve'rence bow'd.
Again he bow'd, and grave approach he made,
And thus his sacred Message sweetly said:

Hail, full of Grace, thee the whole world shall call

Lu. 1. 28.

Above all blest; Thee, who shalt bless them all.
Thy Virgin womb in wondrous sort shall shrowd
Jesus the God; (and then again he bow'd)
Conception the great Spirit shall breathe on thee;
Hail thou, who must Gods wife, Gods mother be!
With that, his seeming form to heav'n he rear'd;
She low obeisance made, and disappear'd.
Lo a new Star three eastern Sages see;
(For why should onely Earth a Gainer be?)

Mat. 2. 1.

They saw this Phosphors infant-light, and knew
It bravely usher'd in a Sun as New.
They hasted all this rising Sun t'adore;
With them rich myrrh, and early spices bore.
Wise men; no fitter gift your zeal could bring;
You'll in a noisome Stable find your King.
Anon a thousand Dev'ils run roaring in;
Some with a dreadful smile deform'edly grin.
Some stamp their cloven paws, some frown and tear
The gaping Snakes from their black-knotted hair.
As if all grief, and all the rage of hell
Were doubled now, or that just now they fell.
But when the dreaded Maid they entring saw,
All fled with trembling fear and silent aw.
In her chast arms th' Eternal Infant lies,
Th'Almighty voyce chang'ed into feeble cryes.
Heav'en contain'd Virgins oft, and will do more;
Never did Virgin contain Heav'en before.
Angels peep round to view this mystick thing,
And Halleluiah round, all Halleluiah sing.

No longer could good David quiet bear,
The unwieldy pleasure which ore-flow'd him here.
It broke the fetters, and burst ope his ey.
Away the tim'erous Forms together fly.
Fixt with amaze he stood; and time must take,
To learn if yet he were at last awake.

304

Sometimes he thinks that heav'en this Vision sent,
And order'ed all the Pageants as they went.
Sometimes, that onely 'twas wild Phancies play,
The loose and scatter'd reliques of the Day.

When Gabriel (no blest Spirit more kind or fair)
Bodies and cloathes himself with thickned ayr.
All like a comely youth in lifes fresh bloom;
Rare workmanship, and wrought by heavenly loom!
He took for skin a cloud most soft and bright,
That e're the midday Sun pierc'ed through with light:
Upon his cheeks a lively blush he spred;
Washt from the morning beauties deepest red.
An harmless flaming Meteor shone for haire,
And fell adown his shoulders with loose care.
He cuts out a silk Mantle from the skies,
Where the most sprightly azure pleas'd the eyes.
This he with starry vapours spangles all,
Took in their prime e're they grow ripe and fall.
Of a new Rainbow e're it fret or fade,
The choicest piece took out, a Scarf is made.
Small streaming clouds he does for wings display,
Not Vertuous Lovers sighes more soft then They.
These he gilds o're with the Suns richest rays,
Caught gliding o're pure streams on which he plays.

Thus drest the joyful Gabriel posts away,
And carries with him his own glorious day
Through the thick woods; the gloomy shades a while
Put on fresh looks, and wonder why they smile.
The trembling Serpents close and silent ly,
The birds obscene far from his passage fly.
A sudden spring waits on him as he goes,
Sudden as that by which Creation rose.
Thus he appears to David, at first sight
All earth-bred fears and sorrows take their flight.
In rushes joy divine, and hope, and rest;
A Sacred calm shines through his peaceful brest.
Hail, Man belov'ed! from highest heav'en (said he)
My mighty Master sends thee health by me.
The things thou saw'est are full of truth and light,
Shap'd in the glass of the divine Foresight.

305

Ev'n now old Time is harnessing the years
To go in order thus; hence empty fears;
Thy Fate's all white; from thy blest seed shall spring
The promis'd Shilo, the great Mystick King.
Round the whole earth his dreaded name shall sound,
And reach to Worlds, that must not yet be found.
The Southern Clime him her sole Lord shall stile,
Him all the North, ev'en Albions stubborn Isle.
My Fellow-Servant, credit what I tell.

Straight into shapeless air unseen he fell.

323

DAVIDEIS.

The third Book.

THE CONTENTS.

Davids flight to Nob, and entertainment there by the High Priest; from thence to Gath in disguise, where he is discovered and brought to Achis; He counterfeits himself Mad, and escapes to Adullam. A short enumeration of the forces which come thither to him. A description of the Kingdom of Moab, whither David flies; His entertainment at Moabs Court, a Digression of the History of Lot, Father of the Moabites, represented in Picture. Melchors Song at the Feast; Moab desires Joab to relate the story of David. Which he does; His Extraction, his excellency in Poesie, and the effects of it in curing Sauls malady. The Philistims Army encamped at Dammin, the Description of Goliah and his Arms, his Challenge to the Israelites, Davids coming to the Camp, his speech to Saul to desire leave to fight with Goliah; several speeches upon that occasion, the combat and slaughter of Goliah, with the defeat of the Philistims Army. Sauls envy to David. The Characters of Merab and Michol. The Love between David and Michol, his Song at her window, his expedition against the Philistims, and the Dowry of two hundred foreskins for Michol, with whom he is married. The Solemnities of the Wedding; Sauls relapse, and the causes of Davids flight into the Kingdom of Moab.

324

Rais'd with the news he from high Heav'en receives,

1 Sam. 21.

Straight to his diligent God just thanks he gives.
To divine Nobe directs then his flight,
A small Town great in Fame by Levy's right,
Is there with sprightly wines, and hallowed bread,

v. 4. 5. 6. Mat. 12. 4.

(But what's to Hunger hallowed?) largely fed.
The good old Priest welcomes his fatal Guest,
And with long talk prolongs the hasty feast.
He lends him vain Goliahs Sacred Sword,

Ver. 9.

(The fittest help just Fortune could afford)
A Sword whose weight without a blow might slay,
Able unblunted to cut Hosts away,
A Sword so great, that i[t] was only fit
To take off his great Head who came with it.
Thus he arms David; I your own restore,
Take it (said he) and use it as before.
I saw you then, and 'twas the bravest sight
That e're these Eyes ow'ed the discov'ering light.

1 Sam. 17.

When you stept forth, how did the Monster rage,
In scorn of your soft looks, and tender age!
Some your high Spirit did mad Presumption call,
Some piti'ed that such Youth should idly fall.
Th'uncircumcis'ed smil'ed grimly with disdain;
I knew the day was yours: I saw it plain.
Much more the Reverend Sire prepar'ed to say,
Rapt with his joy; how the two Armies lay;
Which way th'amazed Foe did wildly flee,
All that his Hearer better knew then He.

325

But Davids hast denies all needless stay;
To Gath an Enemies Land, he hastes away,

1 Sam. 21. 10.

Not there secure, but where one Danger's near,
The more remote though greater disappear.
So from the Hawk, Birds to Mans succour flee,
So from fir'ed Ships Man leaps into the Sea.
There in disguise he hopes unknown t'abide!
Alas! in vain! what can such greatness hide?
Stones of small worth may lye unseen by Day,
But Night it self does the rich Gem betray.
Tagal first spi'ed him, a Philistian Knight,
Who erst from Davids wrath by shameful flight
Had sav'd the sordid remnant of his age;
Hence the deep sore of Envy mixt with Rage.
Straight with a band of Souldiers tall and rough,
Trembling, for scarce he thought that band enough,
On him he seises whom they all had fear'd,
Had the bold Youth in his own shape appear'd.
And now this wisht-for, but yet dreadful prey
To Achis Court they led in hast away,
With all unmanly rudeness which does wait
Upon th'Immod'erate Vulgars Joy and Hate.
His valour now and strength must useless ly,
And he himself must arts unusu'al try;
Sometimes he rends his garments, nor does spare
The goodly curles of his rich yellow haire.

1 Sam. 21. 13.

Sometimes a violent laughter scru'd his face,
And sometimes ready tears dropt down apace.
Sometimes he fixt his staring eyes on ground,
And sometimes in wild manner hurl'd them round.
More full revenge Philistians could not wish,
But call't the Justice of their mighty Fish.
They now in height of anger, let him Live;
And Freedom too, t'encrease his scorn, they give.

Ver. 15.

He by wise Madness freed does homeward flee,
And Rage makes them all that He seem'd to be.

Near to Adullam in an aged Wood,

1 Sam. 22. 1.

An Hill part earth, part rocky stone there stood,
Hollow and vast within, which Nature wrought
As if by 'her Scholar Art she had been taught.

326

Hither young David with his Kindred came,
Servants, and Friends; many his spreading fame,
Many their wants or discontents did call;

1 Sam. 22.

Great men in war, and almost Armies all!
Hither came wise and valiant Joab down,
One to whom Davids self must owe his Crown,
A mighty man, had not some cunning Sin,
Amidst so many Virtues crowded in.
With him Abishai came by whom there fell

1 Chr. 11. 20.

At once three hundred; with him Asahel:
Asahel, swifter then the Northern wind;
Scarce could the nimble Motions of his Mind
Outgo his Feet; so strangely would he runne,
That Time it self perceiv'ed not what was done.
Oft o're the Lawns and Meadows would he pass,
His weight unknown, and harmless to the grass;
Oft o're the sands and hollow dust would trace,
Yet no one Atome trouble or displace.
Unhappy Youth, whose end so near I see!
There's nought but thy Ill Fate so swift as Thee.

Hither Jessides wrongs Benaiah drew,

1 Chro. 11. 22.

He, who the vast exceeding Monster slew.
Th'Egyptian like an Hill himself did rear,
Like some tall Tree upon it seem'd his Spear.
But by Benaiahs staff he fell orethrown;

Vers. 23.

The Earth, as if worst strook, did loudest groan.
Such was Benaiah; in a narrow pit
He saw a Lyon, and leapt down to it.

Vers. 22.

As eas'ily there the Royal Beast he tore
As that it self did Kids or Lambs before.
Him Ira follow'ed, a young lovely boy,
But full of Sp'irit, and Arms was all his joy.

1 Chro. 11. 28.

Oft when a child he in his dream would fight
With the vain air, and his wak'ed Mother fright.
Oft would he shoot young birds, and as they fall,
Would laugh, and fansie them Philistians all.
And now at home no longer would he stay,
Though yet the face did scarce his Sex betray.
Dodos great Son came next, whose dreadful hand
Snatcht ripened Glories from a conque'ring band;

1 Chro. 11. 12.

327

Who knows not Dammin, and that barley field,
Which did a strange and bloody Harvest yield?
Many besides did this new Troop encrease;
Adan, whose wants made him unfit for peace.
Eliel, whose full quiv'er did alwaies beare

1 Chro. 11. 46.

As many Deaths as in it Arrows were.
None from his hand did vain or inn'ocent flee,
Scarce Love or Fate could aim so well as Hee.
Many of Judah took wrong'ed Davids side,

1 Chr. 12. 16.

And many of old Jacobs youngest Tribe;
But his chief strength the Gathite Souldiers are,

1 Chro. 12. 8.

Each single man able t'orecome a Warre!
Swift as the Darts they fling through yielding air,
And hardy all as the strong Steel they bare,
A Lyons noble rage sits in their face,
Terrible comely, arm'ed with dreadful grace!

Th'undaunted Prince, though thus well guarded here,

1 Chr. 12. 8.

Yet his stout Soul durst for his Parents fear;
He seeks for them a safe and qui[et] seat,
Nor trusts his Fortune with a Pledge so great.
So when in hostile fire rich Asias pride
For ten years siege had fully satisfi'ed,
Æneas stole an act of higher Fame,

Virg. 2. Æn.

And bore Anchises through the wondring flame,
A nobler Burden, and a richer Prey,
Then all the Græcian forces bore away.
Go pious Prince, in peace, in triumph go;
Enjoy the Conquest of thine Overthrow;
To have sav'd thy Troy would far less glorious be;
By this thou Overcom'est their Victorie.
Moab, next Judah, an old Kingdom, lies;
Jordan their touch, and his curst Sea denies.
They see North-stars from o're Amoreus ground,
Edom and Petra their South part does bound.
Eastwards the Lands of Cush and Ammon ly,
The mornings happy beams they first espy.
The region with fat soil and plenty's blest,
A soil too good to be of old possest
By monstrous Emins; but Lots off-spring came
And conquer'ed both the People and the Name.

328

Till Seon drave them beyond Arnons flood,
And their sad bounds markt deep in their own blood.
In Hesbon his triumphant Court he plac'ed,
Hesbon by Men and Nature strangely grac'ed.
A glorious Town, and fill'ed with all delight
Which Peace could yield, though well prepar'ed for fight.
But this proud City and her prouder Lord

Num. 21. 24, 25.

Felt the keen rage of Israels Sacred Sword,
Whilst Moab triumpht in her torn estate,
To see her own become her Conqu'erers fate.
Yet that small remnant of Lots parted Crown
Did arm'ed with Israels sins pluck Israel down,
Full thrice six years they felt fierce Eglons yoke,

Judg. 3. 14. Ib. v. 21.

Till Ehuds sword Gods vengeful Message spoke;
Since then their Kings in quiet held their owne,
Quiet the good of a not envy'd Throne.
And now a wise old Prince the Scepter sway'd,
Well by his Subjects and Himself obey'd.
Onely before his Fathers Gods he fell;
Poor wretched Man, almost too good for Hell!
Hither does David his blest Parents bring,
With humble greatness begs of Moabs King,

1 Sam. 22. 3.

A safe and fair abode, where they might live,
Free from those storms with which himself must strive.
The King with chearful grace his suit approv'd,
By hate to Saul, and love to Virtue mov'd.
Welcome great Knight, and your fair Troop (said he)
Your Name found welcome long before with me.
That to rich Ophirs rising Morn is knowne,
And stretcht out far to the burnt swarthy Zone.
Swift Fame, when her round journey she does make,
Scorns not sometimes Us in her way to take.
Are you the man, did that huge Gyant kill?
Great Bâal of Phegor! and how young he's still!
From Ruth we heard you came; Ruth was born here,

Ru. 1. 4.

In Judah sojourn'd, and (they say) matcht there

Ru. 4. 10.

To one of Bethlem; which I hope is true;
Howe're your Virtues here entitle you.
Those have the best alliance always bin,
To Gods as well as Men they make us Kin.

329

He spoke, and straight led in his thankful Guests,
To'a stately Room prepar'ed for Shows and Feasts.
The Room with golden Tap'estry glister'ed bright,
At once to please and to confound the sight,
Th' excellent work of Babylonian hands;
In midst a Table of rich Iv'ory stands,
By three fierce Tygers, and three Lyons born,
Which grin, and fearfully the place adorn.
Widely they gape, and to the eye they roare,
As if they hunger'd for the food they bore.
About it Beds of Lybian Citron stood,
With coverings dy'ed in Tyrian Fishes blood,
They say, th'Herculean art; but most delight
Some Pictures gave to Davids learned sight.
Here several ways Lot and great Abram go,

Gen. 13. 6.

Their too much wealth, vast, and unkind does grow.
Thus each extream to equal danger tends,
Plenty as well as Want can separate Friends;
Here Sodoms Towers raise their proud tops on high;
The Towers as well as Men outbrave the sky.
By it the waves of rev'erend Jordan run,
Here green with Trees, there gilded with the Sun.
Hither Lots Houshould comes, a numerous train,
And all with various business fill the plain.

Ib. v. 10.

Some drive the crowding sheep with rural hooks,
They lift up their mild heads, and bleat in looks.
Some drive the Herds; here a fierce Bullock scorns
Th'appointed way, and runs with threatning horns;
In vain the Herdman calls him back again;
The Dogs stand off afar, and bark in vain.
Some lead the groaning waggons, loaded high,
With stuff, on top of which the Maidens ly.
Upon tall Camels the fair Sisters ride,
And Lot talks with them both on either side.
Another Picture to curst Sodom brings

Gen. 14. 11, 12.

Elams proud Lord, with his three servant Kings:
They sack the Town, and bear Lot bound away;

Ib. v. 10.

Whilst in a Pit the vanquisht Bera lay,
Buried almost alive for fear of Death.
But heav'ens just vengeance sav'ed as yet his breath.

330

Abraham pursues, and slays the Victors Hoast,

Gen. 14. 13.

Scarce had their Conquest leisure for a boast.
Next this was drawn the reckless Cities flame,

Gen. 19. 24.

When a strange Hell pour'd down from Heaven there came.
Here the two Angels from Lots window look
With smiling anger; the lewd wretches, strook

Ib. v. 11.

With sudden blindness, seek in vain the dore,
Their Eyes, first cause of Lust, first Veng'eance bore.
Through liquid Air, heav'ns busie Souldiers fly,
And drive on Clouds where seeds of Thunder ly.
Here the sad sky gloes red with dismal streaks,
Here Lightning from it with short trembling breaks.
Here the blew flames of scalding brimstone fall,
Involving swiftly in one ruine all.
The fire of Trees and Houses mounts on high,
And meets half way new fires that showre from sky.
Some in their arms snatch their dear babes away;
At once drop down the Fathers arms, and They.
Some into waters leap with kindled hair,
And more to vex their fate, are burnt ev'en there.
Men thought, so much a Flame by Art was shown,
The Pictures self would fall in ashes down.
Afar old Lot to'ward little Zoar hyes,
And dares not move (good man) his weeping eyes.

Gen. 19. 17. Ib. v. 26.

Behind his Wife stood ever fixt alone;
No more a Woman, not yet quite a Stone.
A lasting Death seiz'd on her turning head;
One cheek was rough and white, the other red,
And yet a Cheek; in vain to speak she strove;
Her lips, though stone, a little seem'd to move.
One eye was clos'ed, surpris'ed by sudden night,
The other trembled still with parting light.
The wind admir'ed which her hair loosely bore,
Why it grew stiff, and now would play no more.
To heav'en she lifted up her freezing hands,
And to this day a Suppliant Pillar stands.
She try'ed her heavy foot from ground to rear,
And rais'd the Heel, but her Toe's rooted there:
Ah foolish woman! who must always be,
A sight more strange then that she turn'd to see!

331

Whilst David fed with these his curious eye,
The Feast is now serv'ed in, and down they lye.
Moab a goblet takes of massy gold,
Which Zippor, and from Zippor all of old
Quaft to their Gods and Friends; an Health goes round
In the brisk grape of Arnons richest ground.
Whilst Melchor to his harp with wondrous skill
(For such were Poets then, and should be still)
His noble verse through Natures secrets lead;
He sung what Spirit, through the whole Mass is spread,
Ev'ery where All; how Heavens Gods Law approve,
And think it Rest eternally to Move.
How the kind Sun usefully comes and goes,
Wants it himself, yet gives to Man repose.
How his round Journey does for ever last,
And how he baits at every Sea in haste.
He sung how Earth blots the Moons gilded Wane,
Whilst foolish men beat sounding Brass in vain,
Why the Great Waters her slight Horns obey,
Her changing Horns, not constanter than They;
He sung how grisly Comets hang in ayr,
Why Sword and Plagues attend their fatal hair.
Gods Beacons for the world, drawn up so far,
To publish ills, and raise all earth to war.
Why Contraries feed Thunder in the cloud,
What Motions vex it, till it roar so loud.
How Lambent Fires become so wondrous tame,
And bear such shining Winter in their Flame.
What radiant Pencil draws the Watry Bow:
What tyes up Hail, and picks the fleecy Snow.
What Palsie of the Earth here shakes fixt Hills,
From off her brows, and here whole Rivers spills.
Thus did this Heathen Natures Secrets tell,
And sometimes mist the Cause, but sought it Well.

Such was the sawce of Moabs noble feast,
Till night far spent invites them to their rest.
Only the good old Prince stays Joab there,
And much he tells, and much desires to hear.
He tells deeds antique, and the new desires;
Of David much, and much of Saul enquires.

332

Nay gentle Guest (said he) since now you're in,
The story of your gallant friend begin.
His birth, his rising tell, and various fate,
And how he slew that man of Gath of late,
What was he call'd? that huge and monstrous man?
With that he stopt, and Joab thus began:

His birth, great Sir, so much to mine is ty'd,

1 Chr. 2. 16.

That praise of that might look from me like pride.
Yet without boast, his veins contain a flood
Of the old Judæan Lyons richest blood.

Gen. 49. 9. 1 Chr. 2. Mat. 1.

From Judah Pharez, from him Esrom came
Ram, Nashon, Salmon, Names spoke loud by Fame.
A Name no less ought Boaz to appear,
By whose blest match we come no strangers here.
From him and your fair Ruth good Obed sprung,
From Obed Jesse, Jesse whom fames kindest tongue,
Counting his birth, and high nobil'ity, shall
Not Jesse of Obed, but of David call,
David born to him sev'enth; the six births past

1 Chr. 2. 15. 1 Sam. 16.

Brave Tryals of a work more great at last.
Bless me! how swift and growing was his wit?
The wings of Time flag'd dully after it.
Scarce past a Child, all wonders would he sing
Of Natures Law, and Pow'er of Natures King.
His sheep would scorn their food to hear his lay,
And savage Beasts stand by as tame as they.
The fighting Winds would stop there, and admire;
Learning Consent and Concord from his Lyre.
Rivers, whose waves roll'd down aloud before;
Mute, as their Fish, would listen to'wards the shore.

'Twas now the time when first Saul God forsook,

1 Sam. 16. 14.

God Saul; the room in's heart wild Passions took;
Sometimes a Tyrant-Frensie revell'd there,
Sometimes black sadness, and deep, deep despair.
No help from herbs or learned drugs he finds,
They cure but sometime Bodies, never Minds.
Musick alone those storms of Soul could lay;
Not more Saul them, then Musick they obey.

1 Sam. 16. 23.

Davia's now sent for, and his Harp must bring;
His Harp that Magick bore on ev'ery string.

333

When Sauls rude passions did most tumult keep;
With his soft notes they all dropt down asleep.
When his dull Spir'its lay drown'd in Death and Night;
He with quick strains rais'd them to Life and Light.
Thus chear'd he Saul, thus did his fury swage,
Till wars began, and times more fit for rage.
To Helah Plain Philistian Troops are come,

1 Sam. 17.

And Wars loud noise strikes peaceful Musick dumb.
Back to his rural Care young David goes,
For this rough work Saul his stout Brethren chose.
He knew not what his hand in War could do,
Nor thought his Sword could cure mens Madness too.
Now Dammin's destin'ed for this Scene of Blood,
On two near Hills the two proud Armies stood.
Between a fatal Valley stretcht out wide,
And Death seem'd ready now on either side,
When (Lo!) their Host rais'd all a joyful shout,
And from the midst an huge & monstrous man stept out.

1 Sam. 17. 4.

Aloud they shouted at each step he took;
We and the Earth it self beneath him shook,
Vast as the Hill, down which he marcht, he'appear'd;
Amaz'ed all Eyes, nor was their Army fear'd.
A young tall Squire (though then he seem'd not so)
Did from the Camp at first before him go;
At first he did, but scarce could follow strait,
Sweating beneath a Shields unruly weight,
On which was wrought the Gods, and Gyants fight,
Rare work! all fill'd with terrour and delight.
Here a vast Hill, 'gainst thundring Baal was thrown,
Trees and Beasts on't fell burnt with Lightning down.
One flings a Mountain, and its River too
Torn up with't; that rains back on him that threw.
Some from the Main to pluck whole Islands try;
The Sea boils round with flames shot thick from sky.
This he believ'd, and on his shield he bore,
And prais'd their strength, but thought his own was more.
The Valley now this Monster seem'd to fill;
And we (methoughts) lookt up to'him from our Hill.
All arm'd in Brass, the richest dress of War
(A dismal glorious sight) he shone afar.

334

The Sun himself started with sudden fright,
To see his beams return so dismal bright.
Brass was his Helmet, his Boots brass; and o're

1 Sam. 17. 7, &c.

His breast a thick plate of strong brass he wore,
His Spear the Trunk was of a lofty Tree,
Which Nature meant some tall ships Mast should be,
The'huge I'ron head six hundred shekels weigh'd,
And of whole bodies but one wound it made,
Able Deaths worst command to overdo,
Destroying Life at once and Carcase too;
Thus arm'd he stood; all direful, and all gay,
And round him flung a scornful look away.
So when a Scythian Tyger gazing round,
An Herd of Kine in some fair Plain has found
Lowing secure, he swells with angry pride,
And calls forth all his spots on ev'ery side.
Then stops, and hurls his haughty eyes at all,
In choise of some strong neck on which to fall.
Almost he scorns, so weak, so cheap a prey,
And grieves to see them trembling hast away.
Ye men of Jury, 'he cries, if Men you be,

Ib. v. 8.

And such dare prove your selves to Fame and Me,
Chuse out 'mongst all your Troops the boldest Knight,
To try his strength and fate with me in fight.
The chance of War let us two bear for all,
And they the Conqu'eror serve whose Knight shall fall.

Ib. v. 9. 10.

At this he paws'd a while; straight, I defie
Your Gods and You; dares none come down and dy?
Go back for shame, and Egypts slav'ery bear,
Or yield to us, and serve more nobly here.
Alas ye'have no more Wonders to be done,
Your Sorc'erer Moses now and Josua's gone,
Your Magick Trumpets then could Cities take,

Jos. 6. 20.

And sounds of Triumph did your Battels make.
Spears in your hands and manly Swords are vain;
Get you your Spells, and Conjuring Rods again.
Is there no Sampson here? Oh that there were!
In his full strength, and long Enchanted Hair.

Judg. 16. 17.

This Sword should be in the weak Razors stead;
It should not cut his Hair off, but his Head.

335

Thus he blasphem'd aloud; the Valleys round
Flatt'ering his voice restor'd the dreadful sound.
We turn'd us trembling at the noise, and fear'd
We had behind some new Goliah heard.
'Twas Heav'en, Heav'en sure (which Davids glory meant

1 Sam. 17. 11.

Through this whole Act) such sacred terrour sent
To all our Host, for there was Saul in place,
Who ne're saw fear but in his Enemies face,
His god-like Son there in bright Armour shone,
Who scorn'd to conquer Armies not Alone.

1 Sam. 14.

Fate her own Book mistrusted at the sight;
On that side War, on this a Single Fight.
There stood Benaiah, and there trembled too,
He who th' Egyptian, proud Goliah slew.
In his pale fright, rage through his eyes shot flame,

1 Chr. 11.

He saw his staff, and blusht with generous shame.
Thousands beside stood mute and heartless there,
Men valiant all; nor was I us'ed to Fear.

Thus forty days he marcht down arm'd to fight,
Once every morn he marcht, and once at night.
Slow rose the Sun, but gallopt down apace,
With more than Evening blushes in his face.
When Jessey to the Camp young David sent;
His purpose low, but high was Fates intent.

1 Sam. 17. 12, &c.

For when the Monsters pride he saw and heard,
Round him he look'd, and wonder'd why they fear'd.
Anger and brave disdain his heart possest,
Thoughts more than manly swell'd his youthful brest.
Much the rewards propos'd his spirit enflame,

1 Sam. 17. 25.

Sauls Daughter much, and much the voice of Fame.
These to their just intentions strongly move,
But chiefly God, and his dear Countrys Love,
Resolv'd for combat to Sauls Tent he's brought,
Where thus he spoke, as boldly as he fought:

Henceforth no more, great Prince, your sacred brest

Ib. v. 32.

With that huge talking wretch of Gath molest.
This hand alone shall end his cursed breath;
Fear not, the wretch blasphemes himself to death,
And cheated with false weight of his own might,
Has challeng'd Heaven, not Us, to single fight.

336

Forbid it God, that where thy right is try'd,
The strength of man should find just cause for pride!
Firm like some Rock, and vast he seems to stand,
But Rocks we know were op'ed at thy command.

Exod. 17. 6.

That Soul which now does such large members sway,
Through one small wound will creep in hast away.
And he who now dares boldly Heav'en defie,
To ev'ery bird of Heav'en a prey shall lie.
For 'tis not humane force we ought to fear;
Did that, alas, plant our Forefathers here?
Twice fifteen Kings did they by that subdue?

Josh. 12.

By that whole Nations of Goliahs slew?
The wonders they perform'd may still be done;
Moses and Josua is, but God's not gone.
We'have lost their Rod and Trumpets, not their skill:
Pray'rs and Belief are as strong Witchcraft still.
These are more tall, more Gyants far then He,
Can reach to Heav'en, and thence pluck Victorie.
Count this, and then, Sir, mine th'advantage is;
He's stronger far then I, my God then His.

Amazement seiz'd on all, and shame to see,
Their own fears scorn'd by one so young as He.
Brave Youth (replies the King) whose daring mind

1 Sam. 17. 33.

Ere come to Manhood, leaves it quite behind;
Reserve thy valour for more equal fight,
And let thy Body grow up to thy Spright.
Thou'rt yet too tender for so rude a foe,
Whose touch would wound thee more then him thy blow.
Nature his Limbs onely for war made fit,
In thine as yet nought beside Love she'has writ.
With some less Foe thy unflesht valour try;
This Monster can be no first Victory.
The Lyons royal whelp does not at first
For blood of Basan Bulls or Tygers thirst.
In timorous Deer he hansels his young paws,
And leaves the rugged Bear for firmer claws.
So vast thy hopes, so unproportion'd bee,
Fortune would be asham'ed to second Thee.

He said, and we all murmur'd an assent;
But nought moves David from his high intent.

337

It brave to him, and om'inous does appear,
To be oppos'ed at first, and conquer here,
Which he resolves; Scorn not (said he) mine age,
For Vict'ory comes not like an Heritage,

1 Sam. 37. 33.

At set-years; when my Fathers flock I fed,
A Bear and Lyon by fierce hunger led,
Broke from the wood, and snatcht my Lambs away;
From their grim mouths I forc'ed the panting prey.
Both Bear and Lyon ev'en this hand did kill,
On our great Oak the Bones and Jaws hang still.
My God's the same, which then he was, to day,
And this wild wretch almost the same as They.
Who from such danger sav'ed my Flock, will he
Of Isra'el, his own Flock less careful be?

Be't so then (Saul bursts forth:) and thou on high,
Who oft in weakness do'st most strength descry,
At whose dread beck Conquest expecting stands,
And casts no look down on the Fighters hands,
Assist what Thou inspir'est; and let all see,
As Boys to Gyants, Gyants are to Thee.

Thus; and with trembling hopes of strange success,
In his own arms he the bold Youth does dress.

1 Sam. 17. 34.

On's head an helm of well-wrought brass is place'd,
The top with warlike Plume severely grace'd.
His breast a plate cut with rare Figures bore,
A Sword much practis'ed in Deaths art he wore.
Yet David use'd so long to no defence,
But those light Arms of Spirit and Innocence,
No good in fight of that gay burden knows,
But fears his own arms weight more then his Foes.
He lost himself in that disguise of warre,
And guarded seems as men by Prisons are.
He therefore to exalt the wondrous sight,
Prepares now, and disarms himself for fight.
'Gainst Shield, Helm, Breast-plate, and instead of those

1 Sam. 17. 40.

Five sharp smooth stones from the next brook he chose,
And fits them to his sling; then marches down;
For Sword, his Enemies he esteem'd his Own.
We all with various passion strangely gaz'ed,
Some sad, some 'sham'd, some angry, all amaz'ed.

338

Now in the Valley'he stands; through's youthful face
Wrath checks the Beauty, and sheds manly grace.
Both in his looks so joyn'd, that they might move
Fear ev'n in Friends, and from an En'emy Love.
Hot as ripe Noon, sweet as the blooming Day,
Like July furious, but more fair than May.
Th'accurst Philistian stands on th'other side,

Ib. v. 45.

Grumbling aloud, and smiles 'twixt rage and pride.
The Plagues of Dagon! a smooth Boy, said he,
A cursed beardless foe oppos'd to Me!
Hell! with what arms (hence thou fond Child) he's come!
Some friend his Mother call to drive him home.
Not gone yet? if one minute more thou stay,
The birds of heav'en shall bear thee dead away.
Gods! a curst Boy! the rest then murmuring out,
He walks, and casts a deadly grin about.
David with chearful anger in his Eyes,
Advances boldly on, and thus replies,
Thou com'est, vain Man, all arm'ed into the field,

Ib. v. 45.

And trustest those War toys, thy Sword, and Shield;
Thy Pride's my Spear, thy Blasphemies my Sword;
My Shield, thy Maker, Fool; the mighty Lord
Of Thee and Battels; who hath sent forth me
Unarm'ed thus, not to Fight, but Conquer thee.
In vain shall Dagon thy false Hope withstand;
In vain thy other God, thine own right hand.
Thy fall to man shall heavens strong justice shew;
Wretch! 'tis the only Good which thou canst do.

He said; our Hoast stood dully silent by;
And durst not trust their Ears against the Eye.
As much their Champions threats to him they fear'd,
As when the Monsters threats to them they heard,
His flaming Sword th'enrag'd Philistian shakes,
And hast to'his ruine with loud Curses makes.
Backward the Winds his active Curses blew,
And fatally round his own head they flew.
For now from Davids sling the stone is fled,

Ib. v. 49.

And strikes with joyful noise the Monsters head.
It strook his forehead, and pierc'ed deeply there;
As swiftly as it pierc'ed before the Ayre.

339

Down, down he falls, and bites in vain the ground;
Blood, Brain, and Soul crowd mingled through the Wound.
So a strong Oak, which many years had stood
With fair and flourishing boughs, it self a Wood;
Though it might long the Axes violence bear,
And play'd with Winds which other Trees did tear;
Yet by the Thunders stroke from th'root 'tis rent;
So sure the blows that from high heav'en are sent.
What tongue the joy and wonder can express,
Which did that moment our whole Host possess?
Their jocond shouts th'air like a storm did tear,
Th'amazed Clouds fled swift away with Fear.
But far more swift th'accurs'd Philistians fly,

1 Sam. 17. 52.

And their ill fate to perfect, basely dye.
With thousand corps the ways around are strown,
Till they, by the days flight secure their own.
Now through the Camp sounds nought but Davids name;
All joys of several stamp and colours came
From several passions; some his Valour praise,
Some his free Speech, some the fair pop'ular rayes
Of Youth, and Beauty, and his modest Guise;
Gifts that mov'd all, but charm'ed the Female Eyes.
Some wonder, some they thought t'would be so swear;
And some saw Angels flying through the air.
The basest spi'rits cast back a crooked glance
On this great act, and fain would give't to Chance.
Women our Host with Songs and Dances meet,

1 Sam. 18.

With much joy Saul, David with more they greet.
Hence the Kings politique rage and envy flows,

Ib. v. 8.

Which first he hides, and seeks his life t'expose
To gen'erous dangers that his hate might clear,
And Fate or Chance the blame, nay David bear.
So vain are mans designs! for Fate, and Chance,
And Earth, and Heav'en conspir'ed to his advance;
His Beauty, Youth, Courage and wondrous Wit,
In all Mankind but Saul did Love begit.

1 Sam. 18. 16.

Not Sauls own house, not his own nearest blood,
The noble causes sacred force withstood.
You'have met no doubt, and kindly us'ed the fame,
Of God-like Jonathans illustrious Name;

340

A Name which ev'ery wind to heav'en would bear,
Which Men to speak, and Angels joy to hear.
No Angel e're bore to his Brother-Mind
A kindness more exalted and refin'd,
Then his to David, which look'd nobly down,
And scorn'd the false Alarums of a Crown.
At Dammin field he stood; and from his place

1 Sam. 18.

Leapt forth, the wondrous Conqu'eror to embrace;
On him his Mantle, Girdle, Sword, and Bow,

Ib. v. 4.

On him his Heart and Soul he did bestow.
Not all that Saul could threaten or perswade,
In this close knot the smallest looseness made.
Oft his wise care did the Kings rage suspend.
His own lifes danger shelter'd oft his Friend

1 Sam. 20. 33.

His own lifes danger shelter'd oft his Friend
Which he expos'ed a Sacrifice to fall
By th'undiscerning rage of furious Saul.
Nor was young Davids active vertue grown
Strong and triumphant in one Sex alone.
Imperious Beauty too it durst invade,
And deeper Prints in the soft breast it made,

1 Sam. 18. 20. 28.

For there t' esteem and Friendships graver name,
Passion was pour'd like Oyl into the Flame.
Like two bright Eyes in a fair Body plac'ed,
Sauls Royal house two beauteous Daughters grac'ed.
Merab the first, Michol the younger nam'ed,
Both equally for different glories fam'ed.
Merab with spatious beauty fill'ed the sight,
But too much aw chastis'ed the bold delight.
Like a calm Sea, which to th'enlarged view,
Gives pleasure, but gives fear and rev'erence too.
Michols sweet looks clear and free joys did move,
And no less strong, though much more gentle Love.
Like virtuous Kings whom men rejoyce t'obey,
Tyrants themselves less absolute then They.
Merab appear'd like some fair Princely Tower,
Michol some Virgin Queens delicious Bower.
All Beauties stores in Little and in Great;
But the contracted Beams shot fiercest heat.
A clean and lively Brown was Merabs dy,
Such as the Prouder colours might envy.

341

Michols pure skin shone with such taintless White,
As scatter'd the weak rays of humane sight.
Her lips and cheeks a nobler red did shew,
Then e're on fruits or flowers Heav'ens Pencil drew.
From Merabs eyes fierce and quick Lightnings came,
From Michols the Suns mild, yet active flame;
Merabs long hair was glossy chestnut brown,
Tresses of palest gold did Michol crown.
Such was their outward form, and one might find
A difference not unlike it in the Mind.
Merab with comely Majesty and state
Bore high th'advantage of her Worth and Fate.
Such humble sweetness did soft Michol show,
That none who reach so high e're stoopt so low.
Merab rejoyc'd in her wrackt Lovers pain,
And fortifi'd her vertue with Disdain.
The griefs she caus'd gave gentle Michol grief,
She wisht her Beauties less for their relief,
Ev'en to her Captives civil; yet th'excess
Of naked Virtue guarded her no less.
Business and Power Merabs large thoughts did vex,
Her wit disdain'd the Fetters of her Sex.
Michol no less disdain'd affairs and noise,
Yet did it not from Ignorance, but Choise.
In brief, both Copies were most sweetly drawn;
Merab of Saul, Michol of Jonathan.

The day that David great Goliah slew,
Not great Goliahs Sword was more his due,
Then Merab; by Sauls publick promise she
Was sold then and betroth'd to Victory.
But haughty she did this just match despise,
Her Pride debaucht her Judgment and her Eyes.
An unknown Youth, ne're seen at Court before,
Who Shepherds-staff, and Shepherds habit bore;
The seventh-born Son of no rich house, were still
Th'unpleasant forms which her high thoughts did fill.
And much aversion in her stubborn mind
Was bred by being promis'd and design'd.
Long had the patient Adriel humbly born
The roughest shocks of her imperious scorn,

342

Adriel the Rich, but riches were in vain,
And could nor set him free, nor her enchain.
Long liv'ed they thus; but as the hunted Dear
Closely pursu'ed quits all her wonted fear,
And takes the nearest waves, which from the shore
She oft with horrour had beheld before.
So whilst the violent Maid from David fled,
She leapt to Adriels long avoided bed.

1 Sam. 18. 19.

The match was nam'd, agreed, and finisht strait;
So soon comply'd Sauls Envy with her Hate.
But Michol in whose breast all virtues move
That hatch the pregnant seeds of sacred Love,
With juster eyes the noble Object meets,
And turns all Merabs Poyson into Sweets.
She saw and wondred how a Youth unknown,
Should make all Fame to come so soon his own:
She saw, and wondred how a Shepherds Crook
Despis'd that Sword at which the Scepter shook.
Though he seventh-born, & though his House but poor,
She knew it noble was, and would be more.
Oft had she heard, and fansied oft the sight,
With what a generous calm he marcht to fight.
In the great danger how exempt from Fear,
And after it from Pride he did appear.
Greatness, and Goodness, and an Ayr divine,
She saw through all his words and actions shine.
She heard his eloquent Tongue, and charming Lyre,
Whose artful sounds did violent Love inspire,
Though us'd all other Passions to relieve;
She weigh'd all this, and well we may conceive,
When those strong thoughts attaqu'd her doubtful brest,
His Beauty no less active than the rest.
The Fire thus kindled soon grew fierce and great,
When Davids brest reflected back its heat.
Soon she perceiv'd (scarce can Love hidden ly
From any sight, much less the Loving Eye)
She Conqu'eror was as well as Overcome,
And gain'd no less Abroad than lost at Home.
Even the first hour they met (for such a pair,
Who in all mankind else so matchless were,

343

Yet their own Equals, Natures self does wed)
A mutual warmth through both their bosoms spred.
Fate gave the Signal; both at once began
The gentle Race, and with just pace they ran.
Ev'en so (methinks) when two Fair Tapers come,
From several Doors entring at once the Room,
With a swift flight that leaves the Eye behind;
Their amorous Lights into one Light are join'd.
Nature herself, were she to judge the case,
Knew not which first began the kind embrace.
Michol her modest flames sought to conceal,
But Love ev'en th' Art to hide it does reveal.
Her soft unpractis'd Eyes betray'd the Theft,
Love past through them, and there such footsteps left.
She blusht when he approacht, and when he spoke,
And suddenly her wandring answers broke,
At his names sound, and when she heard him prais'd,
With concern'd haste her thoughtful looks she rais'd.
Uncall'd for sighs oft from her bosome flew,
And Adriels active friend she'abruptly grew.
Oft when the Courts gay youth stood waiting by,
She strove to act a cold Indifferency;
In vain she acted so constrain'd a part,
For thousand Nameless things disclos'd her Heart.
On th'other side David with silent pain
Did in respectful bounds his Fires contain.
His humble fear t'offend, and trembling aw,
Impos'd on him a no less rigorous Law
Then Modesty on her, and though he strove
To make her see't, he durst not tell his Love.
To tell it first the timorous youth made choice
Of Musicks bolder and more active voice.
And thus beneath her Window, did he touch
His faithful Lyre; the words and numbers such,
As did well worth my Memory appear,
And may perhaps deserve your princely Ear.

344

1

Awake, awake my Lyre,
And tell thy silent Masters humble tale,
In sounds that may prevail;
Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire,
Though so Exalted she
And I so Lowly be,
Tell her such diffe'rent Notes make all thy Harmonie.

2

Hark, how the Strings awake,
And though the Moving Hand approach not near,
Themselves with awful fear,
A kind of num'erous Trembling make.
Now all thy Forces try,
Now all thy charms apply,
Revenge upon her Ear the Conquests of her Eye.

3

Weak Lyre! thy vertue sure
Is useless here, since thou art only found
To Cure, but not to Wound,
And she to Wound, but not to Cure.
Too weak too wilt thou prove
My Passion to remove,
Physick to other Ills, thou'rt Nourishment to Love.

4

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre;
For thou can'st never tell my humble tale,
In sounds that will prevail,
Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire;
All thy vain mirth lay by,
Bid thy strings silent ly,
Sleeep, sleep again, my Lyre, and let thy Master dy.

She heard all this, and the prevailing sound
Toucht with delightful pain her tender wound.
Yet though she joy'd th' authentique news to hear,
Of what she guest before with jealous fear,

345

She checkt her forward joy, and blusht for shame,
And did his boldness with forc'ed anger blame.
The senseless rules, which first False Honour taught,
And into Laws the Tyrant Custom brought,
Which Womens Pride and Folly did invent,
Their Lovers and Themselves too to torment,
Made her next day a grave displeasure fain,
And all her words, and all her looks constrain
Before the trembling youth; who when he saw
His vital Light her wonted beams withdraw,
He curst his voice, his fingers, and his Lyre,
He curst his too bold Tongue, and bold Desire.
In vain he curst the last, for that still grew;
From all things Food its strong Complexion drew:
His Joy and Hope their chearful motions ceast,
His Life decay'd, but still his Love encreast.
Whilst she whose Heart approv'd not her Disdain,
Saw and endur'd his pains with greater pain.
But Jonathan, to whom both hearts were known
With a concernment equal to their own,
Joyful that Heav'en with his sworn love comply'd
To draw that knot more fast which he had ty'd,
With well-tim'd zeal, and with an artful care,
Restor'd, and better'd soon the nice affair.
With ease a Brothers lawful power o'recame
The formal decencies of virgin-shame.
She first with all her heart forgave the past,
Heard David tell his flames, and told her own at last.
Lo here the happy point of prosperous Love!
Which ev'en Enjoyment seldom can improve!
Themselves agreed, which scarce could fail alone,
All Israels wish concurrent with their own.
A Brothers powerful ayd firm to the side,
By solemn vow the King and Father tyde:
All jealous fears, all nice disguises past,
All that in less-ripe Love offends the Tast,
In eithers Breast their Souls both meet and wed,
Their Heart the Nuptial-Temple and the Bed.
And though the grosser cates were yet not drest,
By which the Bodies must supply this Feast;

346

Bold Hopes prevent slow Pleasures lingring birth,
As Saints assur'd of Heav'en enjoy't on Earth.
All this the King observ'd, and well he saw
What scandal, and what danger it might draw
T'oppose this just and pop'ular match, but meant
T' out-malice all Refusals by Consent.
He meant the pois'onous grant should mortal prove,
He meant t'ensnare his Virtue by his Love.

1 Sam. 18. 21.

And thus he to him spoke, with more of art
And fraud, then well became the Kingly part.

Your valour, David, and high worth (said he)
To praise, is all mens duty, mine to see
Rewarded; and we shall t'our utmost powers
Do with like care that part, as you did yours.
Forbid it God, we like those Kings should prove,
Who Fear the Vertues which they're bound to Love.
Your Pi'ety does that tender point secure,
Nor will my Acts such humble thoughts endure.
Your neerness to't rather supports the Crown,
And th'honours giv'en to you encrease our own.
All that we can we'll give; 'tis our intent
Both as a Guard, and as an Ornament
To place thee next our selves; Heav'en does approve,
And my Sons Friendship, and my Daughters Love,
Guide fatally, methinks, my willing choice;
I see, methinks, Heav'en in't, and I rejoice.
Blush not, my Son, that Michols Love I name,
Nor need she blush to hear it; 'tis no shame
Nor secret now; Fame does it loudly tell,
And all men but thy Rivals like it well.
If Merabs choice could have comply'd with mine,
Merab, my elder comfort, had been thine.
And hers at last should have with mine comply'd,
Had I not Thine and Michols heart descry'd.
Take whom thou lov'est, and who loves thee; the last
And dearest Present made me by the chast
Ahinoam; and unless she me deceive,
When I to Jonathan my Crown shall leave,
'Twill be a smaller Gift.
If I thy generous thoughts may undertake

347

To guess, they are what Jointure thou shalt make,
Fitting her birth and fortune: and since so
Custom ordains, we mean t'exact it too.
The Joynture we exact, is that shall be
No less advantage to thy Fame than She.
Go where Philistian Troops infest the Land;
Renew the terrours of thy conquering hand.
When thine own hand, which needs must conqu'ror prove,
In this joint cause of Honour and of Love,
An hundred of the faithless Foe shall slay,
And for a Dowre their hundred foreskins pay,

1 Sam. 18. 25.

Be Michol thy Reward; did we not know
Thy mighty Fate, and Worth that makes it so,
We should not cheaply that dear blood expose
Which we to mingle with our own had chose.
But thou'rt secure; and since this match of thine
We to the publick benefit design,
A publick good shall its beginning grace,
And give triumphant Omens of thy race.

Thus spoke the King: the happy Youth bow'd low;
Modest and graceful his great joy did show,
The noble task well pleas'd his generous mind;
And nought t' except against it could he find,
But that his Mistress price too cheap appear'd,
No Danger, but her Scorn of it he fear'd.
She with much different sense the news receiv'd,
At her high rate she trembled, blusht, and griev'd.
'Twas a less work the conquest of his Foes,
Than to obtain her leave his life t'expose.
Their kind debate on this soft point would prove
Tedious, and needless to repeat: If Love
(As sure it has) e're toucht your princely brest,
'Twill to your gentle thoughts at full suggest
All that was done, or said; the grief, hope, fears;
His troubled joys, and her obliging Tears.
In all the pomp of Passions reign, they part;
And bright prophetique forms enlarge his heart;
Vict'ory and Fame; and that more quick delight
Of the rich prize for which he was to fight.

Tow'ards Gath he went; and in one month (so soon

348

A fatal, and a willing work is done)
A double Dowre, two hundred foreskins brought
Of choice Philistian Knights with whom he fought,
Men that in birth and valour did excel,
Fit for the Cause and Hand by which they fell.
Now was Saul caught; nor longer could delay
The two resistless Lovers happy day.
Though this days coming long had seem'd and slow,
Yet seem'd its stay as long and tedious now.
For now the violent weight of eager Love,
Did with more haste so near its Centre move,
He curst the stops of form and state, which lay
In this last stage like Scandals in his way.

On a large gentle Hill, crown'd with tall wood,
Neer where the regal Gabaah proudly stood,
A Tent was pitcht, of green wrought Damask made,
And seem'd but the fresh Forrests nat'ural shade,
Various, and vast within, on pillars born
Of Shittim Wood, that usefully adorn.
Hither to grace the Nuptial-Feast does Saul
Of the Twelve Tribes th' Elders and Captains call,
And all around the idle, busie crowd,
With shouts and Blessings tell their joy alowd.
Lo, the press breaks, and from their several homes
In decent pride the Bride and Bridegroom comes.
Before the Bride, in a long double row
With solemn pace thirty choice Virgins go,
And make a Moving Galaxy on earth;
All heav'enly Beauties, all of highest Birth;
All clad in liveliest colours, fresh and fair,
As the bright flowers that crown'd their brighter Hair,
All in that new-blown age, which does inspire
Warmth in Themselves, in their Beholders Fire.
But all this, and all else the Sun did ere,
Or Fancy see, in her less bounded Sphere,
The Bride her self out-shone; and one would say
They made but the faint Dawn to her full Day.
Behind a numerous train of Ladies went,
Who on their dress much fruitless care had spent,
Vain Gems, and unregarded cost they bore,

349

For all mens eyes were ty'd to those before.
The Bridegrooms flourishing Troop fill'd next the place,
With thirty comly youths of noblest race,
That marcht before; and Heav'en around his head,
The graceful beams of Joy and Beauty spread.
So the glad star which Men and Angels love,
Prince of the glorious Host that shines above,
No Light of Heav'en so chearful or so gay,
Lifts up his sacred Lamp, and opens Day.
The King himself, at the Tents crowned gate
In all his robes of ceremony' and state
Sate to receive the train; on either hand
Did the High Priest, and the Great Prophet stand.
Adriel behind, Jonathan, Abner, Jesse,
And all the Chiefs in their due order presse.
First Saul declar'd his choice, and the just cause,
Avow'd by' a gene'ral murmur of applause,
Then sign'd her Dow're, and in few words he pray'd,
And blest, and gave the joyful trembling Maid
T' her Lovers hands, who with a chearful look
And humble gesture the vast Present took.
The Nuptial-Hymn strait sounds, and Musicks play,
And Feasts and Balls shorten the thoughtless day
To all but to the wedded; till at last
The long-wisht night did her kind shadow cast;
At last th' inestimable hour was come
To lead his Conquering prey in triumph home,
To' a Palace near, drest for the Nuptial-bed
(Part of her Dowre) he his fair Princess led,
Saul, the High-Priest, and Samuel here they leave,
Who as they part, their weighty blessings give.
Her Vail is now put on; and at the gate
The thirty Youths, and thirty Virgins wait
With golden Lamps, bright as the flames they bore,
To light the Nuptial-pomp, and march before.
The rest bring home in state the happy Pair,
To that last Scene of Bliss, and leave them there
All those free joys insatiably to prove
With which rich Beauty feasts the Glutton Love.

But scarce, alas, the first sev'en days were past,

350

In which the publick Nuptial Triumphs last,
When Saul this new Alliance did repent,
Such subtle cares his jealous thoughts torment,
He envy'ed the good work himself had done;
Fear'd David less his Servant than his Son.
No longer his wild wrath could he command;
He seeks to stain his own imperial hand
In his Sons blood; and that twice cheated too,
With Troops and Armies does one life pursue.
Said I but One? his thirsty rage extends
To th' Lives of all his kindred, and his friends;
Ev'en Jonathan had dyed for being so,
Had not just God put by th' unnat'ural blow.

You see, Sir, the true cause which brings us here;
No sullen discontent, or groundless fear,
No guilty Act or End calls us from home.
Only to breath in peace a while we come,
Ready to Serve, and in mean space to Pray
For You who us receive, and Him who drives away.

364

DAVIDEIS.

The fourth Book.

THE CONTENTS.

Moab carries his Guests to hunt at Nebo, in the way falls into discourse with David, and desires to know of him the reasons of the Change of Government in Israel, how Saul came to the Crown, and the story of Him and Jonathan. Davids Speech, containing, The state of the Commonwealth under the Judges, the Motives for which the people desired a King; their Deputies speech to Samuel upon that subject, and his reply. The assembling of the People at the Tabernacle to enquire Gods pleasure. Gods Speech. The Character of Saul, his Anointing by Samuel, and Election by Lot; the defection of his people. The war of Nahas King of Ammon against Jabes Gilead; Saul and Jonathans relieving of the Town. Jonathans Character, his single fight with Nahas, whom he slays, and defeats his Army. The confirmation of Sauls Kingdom at Gilgal, and the manner of Samuels quitting his office of Judge. The war with the Philistins at Macmas, their strength, and the weakness of Sauls Forces, his exercising of the Priestly function, and the judgment denounced by Samuel against him. Jonathans discourse with his Esquire; their falling alone upon the enemies out-guards at Senes, and after upon the whole Army, the wonderful defeat of it; Sauls rash vow, by which Jonathan is to be put to death, but is saved by the People.

365

Though state and kind discourse thus rob'd the Night
Of half her natural and more just delight,
Moab, whom Temp'erance did still vig'orous keep,
And regal cares had us'd to mod'erate sleep,
Up with the Sun arose, and having thrice
With lifted hands bow'd towards his shining rise,
And thrice to'wards Phegor, his Baals holiest Hill,
(With good and pious prayers directed ill)
Call'd to the Chase his Friends, who for him stay'd;
The glad Dogs barkt, the chearful Horses neigh'd.
Moab his Chariot mounts, drawn by four Steeds,
The best and noblest that fresh Zerith breeds,
All white as Snow, and sprightful as the Light,
With Scarlet trapt, and foaming Gold they bite.
He into it young David with him took,
Did with respect and wonder on him look
Since last nights story, and with greedier ear,
The Man, of whom so much he heard, did hear.
The well-born Youth of all his flourishing Court
March gay behind, and joyful to the sport.
Some arm'd with Bows, some with strait Javelines ride;
Rich Swords and gilded Quivers grace their side.
Midst the fair Troop Davids tall Brethren rode,
And Joab comely as a Fanci'ed God;
They entertain'd th' attentive Moab Lords,
With loose and various talk that chance affords,
Whilst they pac'ed slowly on; but the wise King

366

Did Davids tongue to weightier subjects bring.
Much (said the King) much I to Joab owe,
For the fair Picture drawn by him of you.
'Twas drawn in little, but did acts express
So great, that largest Histories are less.
I see (methinks) the Gathian Monster still,
His shape last night my mindful Dreams did fill.
Strange Tyrant Saul with Envy to pursue
The praise of deeds whence his own safety grew!
I'have heard (but who can think it?) that his Son
Has his lifes hazard for your friendship run;
His matchless Son, whose worth (if Fame be true)
Lifts him 'above all his Countrymen but you,
With whom it makes him One; Low David bows,
But no reply Moabs swift tongue allows.
And pray, kind Guest, whilst we ride thus (says he)
(To gameful Nebo still three leagues there be)
The story of your royal friend relate;
And his ungovern'd Sires imperious fate,
Why your great State that nameless Fam'ily chose,
And by what steps to Israels Throne they rose.

He staid; and David thus; from Egypts Land
You 'have heard, Sir, by what strong, unarmed hand
Our Fathers came; Moses their sacred Guid,
But he in sight of the Giv'en Country dy'd.

Deut. 34.

His fatal promis'd Canaan was on high;
And Joshua's Sword must th' active Rod supply.
It did so, and did wonders.

Josh. 1. 4.

From sacred Jordan to the Western main,
From well-clad Lib'anus to the Southern Plain
Of naked sands, his winged Conquests went;
And thirty Kings to Hell uncrown'd he sent.

Josh. 12.

Almost four hundred years from him to Saul,
In too much freedom past, or forreign thral.
Oft Strangers Iron Scepters bruis'd the Land
(Such still are those born by a Conquering Hand)
Oft pity'ing God did well-form'd Spirits raise,
Fit for the toilsome business of their days,
To free the groaning Nation, and to give
Peace first, and then the Rules in Peace to live.

367

But they whose stamp of Power did chiefly ly
In Characters too fine for most mens Ey,
Graces and Gifts Divine; not painted bright
With state to awe dull minds, and force t'affright,
Were ill obey'd whil'st Living, and at death,
Their Rules and Pattern vanisht with their breath.
The hungry Rich all near them did devour,
Their Judge was Appetite, and their Law was Power.
Not want it self could Luxury restrain,
For what that empti'd, Rapine fill'd again.
Robbery the Field, Oppression sackt the Town;
What the Swords Reaping spar'd, was glean'd by th'Gown.
At Courts, and Seats of Justice to complain,
Was to be robb'd more vexingly again.
Nor was their Lust less active or less bold,
Amidst this rougher search of Blood and Gold.
Weak Beauties they corrupt, and force the strong;
The Pride of Old Men that, and this of young.
You 'have heard perhaps, Sir, of leud Gibeahs shame,

Judg. 19.

Which Hebrew Tongues still tremble when they name,
Alarmed all by one fair strangers Eyes,
As to a sudden War the Town does rise
Shaking and pale, half dead e're they begin
The strange and wanton Trag'edy of their sin,
All their wild Lusts they force her to sustain,
Till by shame, sorrow, weariness, and pain,
She midst their loath'd, and cruel kindness dies;
Of monstrous Lust th' innocent Sacrifice.
This did ('tis true) a Civil War create
(The frequent curse of our loose-govern'd State)
All Gibea's, and all Jabes blood it cost;
Near a whole Tribe and future Kings we lost.

Judg. 20. and 21.

Firm in this general Earthquake of the Land,
How could Religion, its main pillar, stand?
Proud, and fond Man, his Fathers worship hates,
Himself, Gods Creature, his own God Creates.
Hence in each Houshold sev'eral Deities grew,
And when no old one pleas'd, they fram'd a New.
The only Land which serv'd but one before,
Did th' only then all Nations Gods adore.

368

They serv'd their Gods at first, and soon their Kings;
Their choice of that this latter slavery brings.
Till special men arm'd with Gods warrant broke
By justest force th'unjustly forced yoke.
All matchless persons, and thrice worthy they
Of Power more great, or Lands more apt t'obey.

1 Sam. 3.

At last the Priesthood join'd in Ith'amars Son,
More weight and lustre to the Scepter won.
But whilst mild Ely, and good Samuel were
Busi'ed with age, and th' Altars sacred care;
To their wild Sons they their high charge commit,
Who 'expose to Scorn and Hate both them and it.
Ely's curst House th'exemplar vengeance bears
Of all their Blood, and all sad Isr'aels Tears.
His Sons abroad, Himself at home lies slain,
Israel's captiv'd, Gods Ark and Law are tane.

1 Sam. 4.

Thus twice are Nations by ill Princes vext,
They suffer By them first, and For them next.
Samuel succeeds; since Moses none before
So much of God in his bright bosom bore.
In vain our arms Philistian Tyrants seis'd;

1 Sam. 7.

Heav'ens Magazines he open'd when he pleas'd.
He Rains and Winds for Auxil'iaries brought,

Ib. v. 10.

He muster'd Flames and Thunders when he fought.
Thus thirty years with strong and steddy hand
He held th'unshaken Ballance of the Land.
At last his Sons th'indulgent Father chose
To share that State which they were born to lose.
Their hateful acts that Changes birth did hast,
Which had long growth i'th'Womb of Ages past.
To this (for still were some great Periods set,
There's a strong knot of sev'eral Causes met)
The threats concurr'd of a rough neighb'ring War;
A mighty storm long gathering from afar.
For Ammon, heightned with mixt Nations aid,
Like Torrents swoln with Rain prepar'd the land t'invade.
Samuel was old, and by his Sons ill choice
Turn'd Dotard in th' unskilful Vulgars voice.
His Sons so scorn'd and hated, that the Land
Nor hop'ed nor wisht a Victory from their hand:

369

These were the just and faultless causes why
The general voice did for a Monarch cry,
But God ill grains did in this Incense smell,
Wrapt in fair Leaves he saw the Canker dwell.
A mut'inous Itch of Change, a dull Despair
Of helps divine, oft prov'd; a faithless care
Of Common Means; the pride of heart, and scorn
Of th' humble yoke under low Judges born.
They saw the state and glittering pomp which blest
In vulgar sense the Scepters of the East.
They saw not Powers true Source, and scorn'd t'obey
Persons that look'd no dreadfuller than They.
They mist Courts, Guards, a gay and num'erous train;
Our Judges, like their Laws, were rude and plain.
On an old bench of wood, her Seat of State

Judg. 4. 5.

Beneath the well-known Palm, Wise Debora sate.
Her Maids with comly dil'igence round her spun,
And she too, when the Pleadings there were done:
With the same Goad Samgar his Oxen drives
Which took the Sun before six hundred lives

Judg. 3. 31.

From his sham'd foes; He midst his work dealt Laws;
And oft was his Plow stopt to hear a Cause.
Nor did great Gid'eon his old Flail disdain,

Judg. 6. 14.

After won Fields, sackt Towns, and Princes slain.
His Scepter that, and Ophras Threshing Floore
The Seat and Embleme of his Justice bore.
What should I Jair, the happiest Father, name?

Judg. 10. 3.

Or mournful Jephta known no less to fame

Ib. 11 34.

For the most wretched? Both at once did keep
The mighty Flocks of Isra'el and their Sheep.
Oft from the field in hast they summon'd were
Some weighty forreign Embassy to hear,
They call'd their Slaves, their Sons, and Friends around,
Who all at several cares were scattered found,
They washt their feet, their only Gown put on;
And this chief work of Cer'emony was done.
These reasons, and all else that could be said,
In a ripe hour by factious Eloquence spread
Through all the Tribes, make all desire a King;
And to their Judge selected Dep'uties bring

1 Sam. 8. 3.

370

This harsh demand; which Nacol for the rest
(A bold and artful Mouth) thus with much grace exprest.

We' are come, most sacred Judge, to pay th'Arrears
Of much-ow'd thanks for the bright thirty years
Of your just Reign; and at your feet to lay
All that our grateful hearts can weakly pay
In unproportion'd words; for you alone
The not unfit Reward, who seek for none.
But when our forepast ills we call to mind,
And sadly think how Little's left behind
Of your important Life, whose sudden date
Would disinherit th'unprovided State.
When we consider how unjust 'tis, you,
Who nere of Power more than the Burden knew,
At once the weight of that and Age should have;
Your stooping days prest doubly towards the grave.
When we behold by Ammons youthful rage,
Proud in th' advantage of your peaceful age,
And all th'united East our fall conspir'd;
And that your Sons, whom chiefly we desir'd

1 Sam. 8. 5.

As Stamps of you, in your lov'd room to place,
By unlike acts that noble Stamp deface:
Midst these new fears and ills, we're forc'd to fly
To' a new, and yet unpractis'd Remedy;
A new one, but long promis'd and foretold,
By Moses, and to Abraham shown of old.
A Prophesie long forming in the Womb

Deut. 17. 4.

Of teeming years, and now to ripeness come.
This Remedy's a King; for this we all
With an inspir'd, and zealous Union call.
And in one sound when all mens voices join,
The Musick's tun'd (no doubt) by hand divine.
'Tis God alone speaks a whole Nations voice;
That is his Publique Language; but the choice
Of what Peculiar Head that Crown must bear
From you who his Peculiar Organ are
We'expect to hear; the People shall to you
Their King, the King his Crown and People owe.
To your great name what lustre will it bring
T'have been our Judge, and to have made our King!

371

He bow'd, and ended here; and Samuel streight,

1 Sam. 8. 6.

Pawsing a while at this great questions weight,
With a grave sigh, and with a thoughtful Ey
That more of Care than Passion did descry,
Calmly replys: You're sure the first (said he)
Of freeborn men that begg'd for Slavery.
I fear, my friends, with heav'enly Manna fed,
(Our old forefathers crime) we lust for Bread.
Long since by God from Bondage drawn, I fear,
We build anew th' Egyptian Brickiln here.
Cheat not your selves with words: for though a King

1 Sam. 8. 11.

Be the mild Name, a Tyrant is the Thing.
Let his power loose, and you shall quickly see
How mild a thing unbounded Man will be.
He'll lead you forth your hearts cheap blood to spill,
Where e're his Guidless Passion leads his Will.
Ambition, Lust, or Spleen his wars will raise,
Your Lives best price his thirst of Wealth or Praise.
Your ablest Sons for his proud Guards he'll take,
And by such hands your yoke more grievous make.
Your Daughters and dear Wives he'll force away,
His Lux'ury some, and some his Lust t'obey.
His idle friends your hungry toils shall eat,
Drink your rich Wines, mixt with your Blood and Sweat.
Then you'll all sigh, but sighs will Treasons be;
And not your Griefs themselves, or Looks be free.
Rob'd even of Hopes, when you these ills sustain,
Your watry eyes you'l then turn back in vain,
On your old Judges, and perhaps on Me,
Nay ev'en my Sons, howe're they 'unhappy be
In your displeasure now; Not that I'd clear
Their Guilt, or mine own Innocence indear,
Witness th' unutterable Name, there's nought
Of private ends into this question brought.
But why this yoke on your own necks to draw?
Why Man your God, and Passion made your Law?

Methinks (thus Moab interrupts him here)
The good old Seer 'gainst Kings was too severe.
'Tis Jest to tell a People that they're Free,
Who, or How many shall their Masters be

372

Is the sole doubt; Laws guid, but cannot reign;
And though they bind not Kings, yet they restrain.
I dare affirm (so much I trust their Love)
That no one Moabite would his speech approve.
But, pray go on. 'Tis true, Sir, he replies;
Yet men whom age and action renders wise,
So much great changes fear, that they believe
All evils will, which may from them arrive.
On men resolv'd these threats were spent in vain,
All that his power or el'oquence could obtain

1 Sam. 8. 19.

Was to enquire Gods will e're they proceed
To'a work that would so much his blessing need.
A solemn day for this great work is set,
And at th' Anointed Tent all Israel met

Ex. 48. 9. & 30. 26.

Expect th' event;

Ib. v. 5. 6.

below fair bullocks fry
In hallowed flames;

Ib. v. 5. 6.

above, there mount on high
The precious clouds of Incense, and at last
The Sprinkling, Pray'ers, and all due Honours past.
Lo! we the Sacred Bells o'th' sudden hear,

Exo. 39. 25. & 28.

And in mild pomp grave Samuel does appear.
His Ephod, Mitre, well-cut Diadem on,

Ex. 39. 2. Ib. 8.

Th' Orac'ulous Stones on his rich Breast plate shone.
Tow'ards the blew curtains of Gods holiest place
(The Temples bright Third Heaven) he turn'd his face.
Thrice bow'd he, thrice the solemn Musick plaid,
And at third rest thus the great Prophet praid:

Almighty God, to whom all men that be
Owe all they have, yet none so much as We;
Who though thou fill'st the spacious world alone,
Thy too small Court, hast made this place thy Throne.
With humble Knees, and humbler Hearts, Lo, here,
Blest Abrah'ams Seed implores thy gracious Ear.
Hear them, great God, and thy just will inspire;
From Thee, their long-known King, they'a King desire.
Some gracious signs of thy good pleasure send,
Which, lo, with Souls resign'd we humbly here attend.

He spoke, and thrice he bow'd, and all about
Silence and reverend Horrour seiz'd the rout.
The whole Tent shakes, the Flames on th' Altar by,
In thick dull rolls mount slow and heavily.

373

The

Exod. 25. 37.

seven Lamps wink; and what does most dismay,
Th'Orac'ulous Gems shut in their nat'ural day.
The Rubies Cheek grew pale, the Em'eraud by
Faded, a Cloud o'recast the Saphirs Skie.
The Di'amonds Eye lookt Sleepy, and swift night
Of all those little Suns eclypst the Light.
Sad signs of Gods dread anger for our sin,
But straight a wondrous brightness from within
Strook through the Curtains, for no earthly Cloud
Could those strong beams of heav'enly glory shroud.
The Altars fire burnt pure, and every Stone
Their radiant Parent the gay Sun outshone.
Beauty th' illustrious Vision did impart
To ev'ery Face, and Joy to ev'ery heart.
In glad effects Gods presence thus appear'd,
And thus in wondrous sounds his Voice was heard:

This stubborn Land sins still, nor is it Thee, but Us
(Who have been so long their King) they seek to cast off thus.
Five hundred rolling years hath this stiff Nation strove
To 'exhaust the boundless stores of our unfathom'd Love.
Be't so then; yet once more are we resolv'd to try
T'outweary them through all their Sins Variety.
Assemble ten days hence the num'erous people here;
To draw the Royal Lot which our hid Mark shall bear.
Dismiss them now in peace; but their next crime shall bring
Ruine without redress on Them, and on their King.

The Almighty spoke; th' astonisht people part
With various stamps imprest on every heart.
Some their demand repented, others prais'd,
Some had no thoughts at all, but star'd and gaz'd.

There dwelt a Man, nam'd Kis in Gib'eah Town,

1 Sam. 9. 1.

For wisdom much, and much for Courage known.

Ib. v. 2.

More for his Son, his mighty Son was Saul,
Whom Nature, e're the Lots, to' a Throne did call.
He was much Prince, and when, or wheresoe're
His birth had been, Then had he reign'd and There.
Such Beauty as great Strength thinks no disgrace,
Smil'd in the manly features of his Face.
His large black Eyes, fill'd with a sprightful light,
Shot forth such lively and illustrious Night,

374

As the Sun beams, on Jet reflecting show,
His Hair, as black, in long curl'd waves did flow.
His tall, strait Body amidst thousands stood,
Like some fair Pine o'relooking all th' ignobler Wood.
Of all our rural sports he was the pride;
So swift, so strong, so dextrous none beside.
Rest was his Toil, Labours his Lust and Game;
No nat'ural wants could his fierce dil'igence tame,
Not Thirst, nor Hunger; he would journeys go
Through raging Heats, and take repose in Snow.
His Soul was ne're unbent from weighty care;
But active as some Mind that turns a Sphere.
His way once chose, he forward thrust outright,
Nor stept aside for Dangers or Delight.
Yet was he wise all dangers to foresee;
But born t' affright, and not to fear was He.
His Wit was strong; not Fine; and on his tongue
An Artless grace above all Eloq'uence hung.
These Virtues too the rich unusual dress

1 Sam. 9. 21. Ib. 10. v. 22.

Of Modesty adorn'd and Humbleness.
Like a clear Varnish o're fair Pictures laid,
More fresh and Lasting they the Colours made.
Till Power and violent Fortune, which did find
No stop or bound, o'rewhelm'd no less his Mind,
Did, Deluge-like, the nat'ural forms deface,
And brought forth unknown Monsters in their place.
Forbid it God, my Masters spots should be,
Were they not seen by all, disclos'd by me!
But such he was; and now to Ramah went
(So God dispos'd) with a strange, low intent.
Great God! he went lost Asses to enquire,

Ib. v. 8.

And a small Present his small questions hire,
Brought simply with him to that Man to give,
From whom high Heav'ens chief Gifts he must receive,
Strange Play of Fate! when might'iest humane things
Hang on such small, Imperceptible Strings!
'Twas Samuels Birth-day, a glad ann'ual feast

1 Sam. 9. 12.

All Rama kept; Samuel his wondring Guest
With such respect leads to it, and does grace

Ib. v. 22, 23, 24.

With the choice meats o'th' feast, and highest place.

375

Which done, him forth alone the Prophet brings,
And feasts his ravisht ears with nobler things.

Ib. v. 26.

He tells the mighty Fate to him assign'd,
And with great rules fills his capacious mind.

1 Sam. 10. 1.

Then takes the sacred Viol, and does shed
A Crown of mystique drops around his head.
Drops of that Royal Moisture which does know
No Mixture, and disdains the place below.
Soon comes the Kingly Day, and with it brings
A new Account of Time upon his wings.

1 Sam. 10. 17.

The people met, the rites and pray'rs all past,
Behold, the Heav'en instructed-Lot is cast.
'Tis taught by heaven its way, and cannot miss;
Forth Benjamin, forth leaps the House of Cis.
As Glimm'ering stars just at the'approach of Day,
Casheer'd by Troops, at last drop all away,
By such degrees all mens bright hopes are gone,
And, like the Sun, Sauls Lot shines all alone.
Ev'en here perhaps the peoples shout was heard,
The loud long shout when Gods fair choice appear'd.
Above the whole vast throng he'appear'd so tall,
As if by Nature made for th'Head of all.
So full of grace and state, that one might know
'Twas some wise Eye the blind Lot guided so.
But blind unguided Lots have more of choice
And constancy then the slight Vulgars voice.
Ere yet the Crown of sacred Oyl is dry,
Whil'st Ecchoes yet preserve the joyful cry,
Some grow enrag'd their own vain hopes to miss,
Some envy Saul, some scorn the house of Cis.
Some their first mut'inous wish, A King, repent,
As if, since that, quite spoil'd by Gods consent.
Few to this Prince their first just duties pay;
All leave the Old, but few the New obey.
Thus changes Man, but God is constant still
To those eternal grounds, that mov'ed his Will.
And though he yielded first to them, 'tis fit
That stubborn Men at last to him submit.

As midst the Main a low small Island lies,
Assaulted round with stormy Seas and skies.

376

Whilst the poor heartless Natives ev'ery hour
Darkness and Noise seems ready to devour:
Such Israels state appear'ed, whilst ore the West
Philistian clouds hung threatning, and from th'East
All Nations wrath into one Tempest joines,
Through which proud Nahas like fierce Lightning shines.
Tygris and Nile to his assistance send,
And waters to swoln Jaboc's Torrent lend.
Seir, Edom, Soba, Amalec adde their force,
Up with them march the Three Arabia's Horse.
And 'mongst all these none more their hope or pride,
Then those few Troops your warlike land supply'ed.
Around weak Jabes this vast Host does ly,

1 Sam. 11. 1.

Disdains a dry and bloodless Victory.
The hopeless Town for Slave'ry does intreat,
But barb'arous Nahas thinks that grace too great.
He (his first Tribute) their right Eyes demands,

Ib. v. 2.

And with their Faces shame disarms their Hands.

Ver. 3.

If unreliev'ed sev'en days by Israels aid,
This bargain for ore-rated Life is made.
Ah, mighty God, let thine own Israel be
Quite blind it self, ere this reproach it see!

By'his wanton people the new King forsook,
To homely rural cares himself betook.

Ver. 5.

In private plenty liv'd without the state,
Lustre and Noise due to a publique fate.
Whilst he his slaves and cattel follows home,
Lo the sad Messengers from Jabes come,
Implore his help, and weep as if they meant

1 Sam. 11. 4.

That way at least proud Nahas to prevent.
Mov'ed with a Kingly wrath, his strict command

Ver. 7.

He issues forth t'assemble all the land.
He threatens high, and disobedient they
Wak'ed by such Princely terrors learnt t'obey.

Ver. 8.

A mighty Host is rais'd; th'important cause
Age from their Rest; Youth, from their Pleasure draws.
Arm'd as unfurnisht Hast could them provide,
But Conduct, Courage, Anger that supply'ed.
All night they march, and are at th'early dawn
On Jabes heath in three fair bodies drawn.

377

Saul did himself the first and strongest band,

1 Sam. 11. 11.

His Son the next, Abner the third command.
But pardon, Sir, if naming Sauls great Son,
I stop with him a while ere I go on.

This is that Jonathan, the Joy and Grace,
The beautifull'st, and best of Humane Race.
That Jonathan in whom does mixt remain
All that kind Mothers wishes can contain.
His Courage such as it no stop can know,
And Vict'ory gains by'astonishing the Foe.
With Lightnings force his enemies it confounds,
And melts their Hearts e're it the Bosom wounds.
Yet he the Conquer'd with such Sweetness gains,
As Captive Lovers find in Beauties Chains.
In war the adverse Troops he does assail,
Like an impet'uous storm of wind and Hail.
In Peace, like gentlest Dew that does asswage
The burning Months, and temper Syrius rage.
Kind as the Suns blest Influence; and where e're
He comes, Plenty and Joy attend him there.
To Help seems all his Power, his Wealth to Give;
To do much Good his sole Prerogative.
And yet this gen'eral Bounty of his Mind,
That with wide arms embraces all Mankind,
Such artful Prudence does to each divide,
With diffe'rent measures all are satisfi'd.
Just as wise God his plenteous Manna dealt,

Exod. 16. 18.

Some gather'd more, but want by none was felt.
To all Relations their just rights he pays,
And worths reward above its claim does raise.
The tendrest Husband, Master, Father, Son,
And all those parts by'his Friendship far outdone.
His Love to Friends no bound or rule does know,
What He to Heav'en, all that to Him they owe.
Keen as his Sword, and pointed is his Wit:
His Judgment, like best Armour, strong and fit.
And such an El'oquence to both these does join,
As makes in both Beauty and Use combine.
Through which a noble Tincture does appear
By Learning and choice Books imprinted there.

378

As well he knows all Times and Persons gone,
As he himself to th' future shall be known.
But his chief study is Gods sacred Law;
And all his Life does Comments on it draw,
As never more by Heav'en to Man was giv'en,
So never more was paid by Man to Heav'en.
And all these Virtues were to Ripeness grown,
E're yet his Flower of Youth was fully blown.
All Autumns store did his rich Spring adorn;
Like Trees in Par'dice he with Fruit was born.
Such is his Soul; and if, as some men tell,
Souls form and build those mansions where they dwell;
Whoe're but sees his Body must confess,
The Architect no doubt, could be no less.
From Saul his growth and manly strength he took,
Chastis'd by bright Ahino'ams gentler look.
Not bright Ahin'oam, Beauties lowdest Name,
Till she to' her Children lost with joy her fame,

1 Sam. 14. 50.

Had sweeter strokes, Colours more fresh and fair,
More darting Eyes, or lovelier auborn Hair.
Forgive me that I thus your patience wrong,
And on this boundless subject stay so long.
Where too much hast ever to end t'would be,
Did not his Acts speak what's untold by Me.
Though from the time his hands a Sword could wield,
He ne're mist Fame and Danger in the field.
Yet this was the first day that call'd him forth,
Since Sauls bright Crown gave luster to his worth.
'Twas the last morning whose unchearful rise,
Sad Jabes was to view with both their Eyes.
Secure proud Nahas slept as in his Court,
And dreamt, vain man! of that days barb'arous sport,
Till noise and dreadful tumults him awoke;
Till into'his Camp our vi'olent Army broke.
The careless Guards with small re[s]istance kill'd,
Slaughter the Camp, and wild Confusion fill'd.
Nahas his fatal duty does perform,
And marches boldly up t'outface the storm.
Fierce Jonathan he meets, as he pursues
Th' Arabian Horse, and a hot fight renewes.

379

'Twas here your Troops behav'd themselves so well,
Till Uz and Jathan their stout Col'onels fell.
'Twas here our Vict'ory stopt, and gave us cause.
Much to suspect th'intention of her pause.
But when our thundring Prince Nahas espy'd,
Who with a Courage equal to his Pride
Broke through our Troops, and tow'ards him boldly prest,
A gen'erous joy leapt in his youthful brest.
As when a wrathful Dragons dismal light
Strikes suddenly some warlike Eagles sight.
The mighty foe pleases his fearless eyes,
He claps his joyful wings, and at him flies.
With vain, though vi'olent force, their darts they flung;
In Ammons plated belt Jonathans hung,
And stopt there; Ammon did his Helmet hit,
And gliding off, bore the proud crest from it.
Straight with their Swords to the fierce shock they came,
Their Swords, their Armour, and their Eyes shot flame.
Blows strong as Thunder, thick as Rain they delt;
Which more then they th'engag'ed Spectators felt.
In Ammon force, in Jonathan address,
(Though both were great in both to an excess)
To the well-judging Eye did most appear;
Honour, and Anger in both equal were.
Two wounds our Prince receiv'ed, and Ammon three;
Which he enrag'ed to feel, and 'sham'd to see,
Did his whole strength into one blow collect;
And as a Spani'el when we'our aim direct
To shoot some Bird, impatiently stands by
Shaking his tail, ready with joy to fly
Just as it drops, upon the wounded prey;
So waited Death it self to bear away
The threatned Life; did glad and greedy stand
At sight of mighty Ammons lifted hand.
Our watchful Prince by bending sav'd the wound,
But Death in other coyn his reck'ning found:
For whilst th'immod'erate strokes miscarry'ng force
Had almost born the striker from his horse,
A nimble thrust his active En'emy made,
'Twixt his right ribs deep pierc'ed the furious blade,

380

And opened wide those secret vessels, where
Life's Light goes out, when first they let in aire.
He falls, his Armour clanks against the ground,
From his faint tongue imperfect curses sound.
His amaz'd Troops strait cast their arms away;
Scarce fled his Soul from thence more swift then they.
As when two Kings of neighbour Hives (whom rage
And thirst of Empire in fierce wars engage,
Whilst each lays claim to th'Garden as his owne,
And seeks t'usurp the bord'ring flowers alone)
Their well-arm'd Troops drawn boldly forth to fight,
In th'aires wide plain dispute their doubtful right.
If by sad chance of battel either King
Fall wounded down, strook with some fatal sting,
His Armies hopes and courage with him dy;
They sheath up their faint Swords, and routed fly.
On th'other sides at once with like success
Into the Camp, great Saul and Abner press,
From Jon'athans part a wild mixt noise they hear,
And whatsoere it mean long to be there,
At the same instant from glad Jabes Town,
The hasty Troops march loud and chearful down.
Some few at first with vain resistance fall,
The rest is Slaughter, and vast Conquest all.
The fate by which our Host thus far had gon,
Our Host with noble heat drove farther on.
Victorious arms through Ammons land it bore;
Ruine behind, and Terror marcht before.
Where ere from Rabba's towers they cast their sight,
Smoak clouds the Day, and Flames make clear the Night.
This bright success did Sauls first action bring,
The Oyl, the Lot, and Crown less crown'd him King.
The Happy all men judge for Empire fit,
And none withstands where Fortune does submit.
Those who before did Gods fair choice withstand,

1 Sam. 11. 12.

Th'excessive Vulgar now to death demand.
But wiser Saul repeal'd their hasty doom;

Ver. 13.

Conquest abroad, with Mercy crown'd at home.
Nor stain'd with civil slaughter that days pride,
Which foreign blood in nobler purple dy'ed.

381

Again the Crown th'assembled people give,

Ver. 15.

With greater joy then Saul could it receive.
Again, th'old Judge resigns his sacred place,

1 Sam. 12. 1.

God Glorifi'ed with wonders his disgrace.
With decent pride, such as did well befit
The Name he kept, and that which he did quit.
The long-past row of happy years he show'd,
Which to his heav'enly Government they ow'd.
How the torn state his just and prudent raign
Restor'ed to Order, Plenty, Power again.
In war what conqu'ering Miracles he wrought;
God, then their King, was Gen'eral when they fought.
Whom they depos'ed with him. And that (said he)
You may see God concern'd in't more then Me,
Behold how storms his angry presence shrowd,
Hark how his wrath in thunder threats alowd.
'Twas now the ripen'ed Summers highest rage,
Which no faint cloud durst mediate to asswage.
Th'Earth hot with Thirst, and hot with Lust for Rain,
Gap'ed, and breath'd feeble vapours up in vain,
Which straight were scatter'd, or devour'd by th'Sun;
When, Lo, ere scarce the active speech was done,
A vi'olent Wind rose from his secret Cave,
And troops of frighted Clouds before it drave.
Whilst with rude haste the confus'ed Tempest crowds,
Swift dreadful flames shot through th'encountring clowds,
From whose torn womb th'imprison'ed Thunder broke,
And in dire sounds the Prophets sense it spoke.
Such an impet'uous shower it downwards sent,
As if the Waters 'bove the Firmament
Were all let loose; Horrour and fearful noise
Fill'd the black Scene; till the great Prophets voice
Swift as the wings of Morn, reduc'ed the Day;
Wind, Thunder, Rain and Clouds fled all at once away.
Fear not (said he) God his fierce wrath removes,

1 Sam. 12. 20.

And though this State my service disapproves,
My Prayers shall serve it constantly. No more,
I hope, a pardon for past sins t'implore,
But just rewards from gracious heav'en to bring
On the good deeds of you, and of our King.

382

Behold him there! and as you see, rejoyce
In the kind care of Gods impartial choice.
Behold his Beauty, Courage, Strength and Wit!
The Honour heav'en has cloath'd him with, sits fit
And comely on him; since you needs must be
Rule'd by a King, you'are happy that 'tis He.
Obey him gladly, and let him too know
You were not made for Him, but he for You,
And both for God.
Whose gentlest yoke if once you cast away,
In vain shall he command, and you obey.
To foreign Tyrants both shall slaves become,
Instead of King, and Subjects here at home.

Ib. v. 25.

The Crown thus several ways confirm'ed to Saul,
One way was wanting yet to crown them all;
And that was Force, which only can maintain
The Power that Fortune gives, or worth does gain.
Three thousand Guards of big, bold men he took;

1 Sam. 13. 2.

Tall, terrible, and Guards ev'en with their Look;
His sacred person too, and throne defend,
The third on matchless Jonathan attend.
Ore whose full thoughts, Honour, and youthful Heat,
Sate brooding to hatch Actions good and great.
On Geba first, where a Philistian band

Ib. 3.

Lies, and around torments the fetter'd land,
He falls, and slaughters all; his noble rage
Mixt with Design his Nation to engage
In that just war, which from them long in vain,
Honour and Freedoms voice had strove t'obtain.
Th'accurst Philistian rows'd with this bold blow,

Ib. v. 5.

All the proud marks of enrag'ed Power does show.
Raises a vast, well-arm'd, and glittering Host,
If humane strength might authorize a boast,
Their threats had reason here; for ne're did wee
Our selves so weak, or foe so potent see.
Here we vast bodies of their Foot espy,
The Rear out-reaches far th'extended Eye.
Like fields of Corn their armed Squadrons stand;
As thick and numberless they hide the land.
Here with sharp neighs the warlike Horses sound;

383

And with proud prancings beat the putrid ground.
Here with worse noise three thousand Chariots pass
With plates of Iron bound, or louder Brass.
About it forks, axes, and sithes, and spears,
Whole Magazines of Death each Chariot bears.
Where it breaks in, there a whole Troop it mows,
And with lopt panting limbs the field bestrows.
Alike the Valiant, and the Cowards dy;
Neither can they resist, nor can these fly.

Ib. v. 5. Ver. 7.

In this proud equipage at Macmas they;
Saul in much different state at Gilgal lay.
His forces seem'd no Army, but a Crowd,
Heartless, unarm'd, disorderly, and lowd.
The quick Contagion Fear ran swift through all,
And into trembling Fits th'infected fall.
Saul, and his Son (for no such faint Disease
Could on their strong-complexion'd Valour seise)
In vain all parts of virtuous Conduct show'd,
And on deaf Terror gen'erous words bestow'd.
Thousands from thence fly scattered ev'ery day;
Thick as the Leaves that shake and drop away,
When they th'approach of stormy Winter find
The noble Tree all bare expos'd to the' Wind.
Some to sad Jordan fly, and swim't for hast,
And from his farther bank look back at last.
Some into woods and caves their cattel drive,
There with their Beasts on equal terms they live,
Nor deserve better; some in rocks on high,
The old retreats of Storks and Ravens ly.
And were they wing'ed like them, scarce would they dare
To stay, or trust their frighted safety there.
As th'Host with fear, so Saul disturb'd with care,

Ib. 8.

T'avert these ills by Sacrifice and Prayer,
And Gods blest will t'enquire, for Samuel sends;
Whom he six days with troubled hast attends.
But ere the seventh unlucky day (the last
By Samuel set for this great work) was past,
Saul (alarm'd hourly from the neighb'ring foe,
Impatient ere Gods time Gods mind to know,
'Sham'd and enrag'ed to see his Troops decay,

384

Jealous of an affront in Samuels stay,
Scorning that any's presence should appear
Needful besides when He himself was there;
And with a pride too nat'ural thinking Heaven
Had given him All, because much Power t'had giv'en)
Himself the Sacrifice and Offring's made,
Himself did th'high selected charge invade,
Himself inquir'ed of God; who then spake nought;
But Samuel straight his dreadful answer brought.
For straight he came, and with a Virtue bold,
As was Sauls sin, the fatal Message told.
His foul Ingratitude to heav'en he chid,
To pluck that Fruit which was alone forbid
To Kingly power in all that plenteous land,
Where all things else submit to his command.
And as fair Edens violated Tree,
To'Immortal Man brought in Mortalitie:
So shall that Crown, which God eternal meant,
From thee (said he) and thy great house be rent,
Thy Crime shall Death to all thine Honours send,
And give thy'Immortal Royalty an End.
Thus spoke the Prophet, but kind heav'en (we hope)
(Whose threats and anger know no other scope
But Mans Amendment) does long since relent,
And with Repentant Saul it self Repent.
Howere (though none more pray for this then we
Whose wrongs and sufferings might some colour be
To do it less) this speech we sadly find
Still extant, and still active in his Mind.
But then a worse effect of it appear'd;
Our Army which before Modestly fear'd,
Which did by stealth and by degrees decay,
Disbanded now, and fled in troops away.
Base Fear so bold and impudent does grow,
When an excuse and colour it can show.
Six hundred only (scarce a Princely train)

1 Sam. 13. 15.

Of all his Host with distrest Saul remain,
Of his whole Host six hundred; and ev'en those
(So did wise Heaven for mighty ends dispose,
Nor would that useless Multitudes should share

385

In that great Gift it did for One prepare)
Arm'd not like Souldiers marching in a War,
But Country-Hinds alarmed from afar
By Wolves loud hunger, when the well-known sound
Raises th' affrighted Villages around.

Ib. v. 19, 20, 21.

Some Goads, Flails, Plow-shares, Forks, or Axes bore,
Made for Lifes use and better ends before,
Some knotted Clubs, and Darts, or Arrows dry'd
I'th'fire, the first rude arts that Malice try'd,
E're Man the sins of too much Knowledge knew,
And Death by long Experience witty grew.
Such were the Numbers, such the Arms which we
Had by fate left us for a Victorie
O're well-arm'd Millions; nor will this appear
Useful it self, when Jonathan was there.

'Twas just the time when the new Ebb of Night
Did the moist world unvail to humane sight.
The Prince, who all that night the field had beat
With a small party, and no en'emy met
(So proud and so secure the en'emy lay,
And drencht in sleep th'excesses of the day)
With joy this good occasion did embrace,
With better leisure, and at nearer space,
The strength and order of their Camp to view;
Abdon alone his gen'erous purpose knew;
Abdon a bold, a brave, and comely Youth,
Well-born, well-bred, with Honour fill'd and Truth,
Abdon his faithful Squire, whom much he lov'd,
And oft with grief his worth in dangers prov'd.
Abdon, whose love to'his Master did exceed
What Natures Law, or Passions Power could breed,
Abdon alone did on him now attend;
His humblest Servant, and his dearest Friend.

1 Sam. 14. 1.

They went, but sacred fury as they went,
Chang'd swiftly, and exalted his intent.
What may this be (the Prince breaks forth) I find,
God or some powerful Spirit invades my mind.
From ought but Heaven can never sure be brought
So high, so glorious, and so vast a thought.
Nor would ill Fate that meant me to surprise,

386

Come cloath'd in so unlikely a Disguise.
Yon Host, which its proud Fishes spreads so wide,
O're the whole Land, like some swoln Rivers Tide,
Which terrible and numberless appears,
As the thick Waves which their rough Ocean bears,
Which lies so strongly ['e]ncampt, that one would say
The Hill might be remov'd as soon as they,
We two alone must fight with and defeat;
Thou'rt strook, and startest at a sound so great.
Yet we must do't; God our weak hands has chose
T'ashame the boasted numbers of our Foes,
Which to his strength no more proportion'd be,
Than Millions are of Hours to his Eternitie.
If when their careless Guards espy us here,
With sportful scorn they call to' us to come neer,

1 Sam. 14.

We'll boldly climb the Hill, and charge them all;
Not They, but Israels Angel gives the call.
He spoke, and as he spoke, a Light divine
Did from his Eyes, and round his Temples shine,
Louder his Voice, larger his Limbs appear'd;
Less seem'd the num'erous Army to be fear'd.
This saw, and heard with joy the brave Esquire,
As he with Gods, fill'd with his Masters Fire.
Forbid it Heav'en (said he) I should decline,

1 Sam. 14.

Or wish (Sir) not to make your danger mine.
The great Example which I daily see
Of your high worth is not so lost on me;
If wonder-strook I at your words appear,
My wonder yet is Innocent of Fear.
Th' Honour which does your Princely breast enflame,
Warms mine too, and joins there with Duties Name.
If in this Act ill Fate our Tempter be,
May all the Ill it means be aim'd at me.
But sure, I think, God leads, nor could you bring
So high thoughts from a less exalted Spring.
Bright signs through all your words and looks are spread,
A rising Vict'ory dawns around your head.
With such discourse blowing their sacred flame,
Lo to the fatal place and work they came.

Strongly encampt on a steep Hills large head,

387

Like some vast wood the mighty Host was spread.

Ib. v. 4.

Th' only 'access on neighb'ring Gabaa's side,
An hard and narrow way, which did divide
Two cliffy Rocks, Boses and Senes nam'd,
Much for themselves, and their big strangeness fam'd,
More for their Fortune, and this stranger day;
On both their points Philistian out-guards lay;
From whence the two bold Spies they first espy'd;
And, lo! the Hebrews! proud Elcanor cry'd;
From Senes top; Lo; from their hungry Caves
A quicker Fate here sends them to their graves.
Come up (aloud he crys to them below)
Ye' Egyptian Slaves, and to our Mercy owe
The rebel lives long since to' our Justice due;
Scarce from his lips the fatal Omen flew,
When th'inspir'd Prince did nimbly understand
God, and his God-like Virtues high command.
It call'd him up, and up the steep ascent
With pain and labour, hast and joy they went.
Elcanor laught to see them climb, and thought
His mighty words th' affrighted Suppliants brought,
Did new affronts to the great Hebrew Name,
(The barbarous!) in his wanton Fancy frame.
Short was his sport; for swift as Thunders stroke
Rives the frail Trunk of some heav'en-threatning Oak,
The Princes Sword did his proud head divide;
The parted Scull hung down on either side.
Just as he fell, his vengeful Steel he drew
Half way; no more the trembling Joints could do,
Which Abdon snatcht, and dy'ed it in the blood
Of an amazed wretch that next him stood.
Some close to earth shaking and grove'ling ly,
Like Larks when they the Tyrant Hobby spy.
Some wonder strook stand fixt; some fly, some arm
Wildly, at th' unintelligible Alarm.
Like the main Channel of an high-swoln Flood,
In vain by Dikes and broken works withstood:
So Jonathan, once climb'd th'opposing hill,
Does all around with noise and ruine fill.
Like some large Arm of which another way

388

Abdon o'reflows; him too no bank can stay.
With cryes th' affrighted Country flies before,
Behind the following waters lowdly roar.
Twenty at least slain on this out-guard ly,
To th' adjoin'd Camp the rest distracted fly,
And ill mixt wonders tell, and into't bear,
Blind terrour, deaf disorder, helpless fear.
The Conqu'erors too press boldly in behind,
Doubling the wild confusions which they find.
Hamgar at first, the Prince of Ashdod Town,
Chief 'mongst the Five in riches and renown,

1 Sam. 6.

And General then by course oppos'd their way,
Till drown'd in Death at Jonathans feet he lay,
And curst the Heavens for rage, and bit the ground;
His Life for ever spilt stain'd all the grass around.
His Brother too, who vertuous hast did make
His fortune to revenge, or to partake,
Falls grove'ling o're his trunk, on mother earth;
Death mixt no less their Bloods than did their birth.
Mean while the well-pleas'd Abdons restless Sword
Dispatcht the following train t'attend their Lord.
On still o're panting corps great Jonathan led;
Hundreds before him fell, and Thousands fled.
Prodigious Prince! which does most wondrous show,
Thy' Attempt, or thy Success! thy Fate or Thou!
Who durst alone that dreadful Host assail,
With purpose not to Dye, but to Prevail!
Infinite Numbers thee no more affright,
Then God, whose Unity is Infinite.
If Heav'en to men such mighty thoughts would give,
What Breast but thine capacious to receive
The vast Infusion? or what Soul but Thine
Durst have believ'd that Thought to be Divine?
Thou follow'dst Heaven in the Design, and we
Find in the Act 'twas Heav'en that follow'd Thee.

1 Sam. 14. 15.

Thou ledst on Angels, and that sacred band
(The De'ities great Lieut'enant) didst command.
'Tis true, Sir, and no Figure, when I say
Angels themselves fought under him that day.
Clouds with ripe Thunder charg'd some thither drew,

389

And some the dire Materials brought for new.
Hot drops of Southern Showers (the sweats of Death)
The voyce of storms and winged whirl-winds breath:
The flames shot forth from fighting Dragons Eyes,
The smokes that from scorcht Fevers Ovens rise,
The reddest fires with which sad Comets glow;
And Sodoms neighb'ring Lake did spir'its bestow
Of finest Sulphur; amongst which they put
Wrath, Fury, Horrour, and all mingled shut
Into a cold moist Cloud, t'enflame it more;
And make th'enraged Prisoner louder roar.
Th'assembled Clouds burst o're their Armies head;
Noise, Darkness, dismal Lightnings round them spread.
Another Spir'it with a more potent wand
Than that which Nature fear'd in Moses hand,
And went the way that pleas'd, the Mountain strook;
The Mountain felt it; the vast Mountain shook.
Through the wide ayr another Angel flew
About their Host, and thick amongst them threw
Discord, Despair, Confusion, Fear, Mistake;
And all th' Ingredients that swift ruine make.
The fertile glebe requires no time to breed;
It quickens and receives at once the Seed.
One would have thought, this dismal day to'have seen,
That Natures self in her Death-pangs had been.
Such will the face of that great hour appear;
Such the distracted Sinners conscious fear.
In vain some few strive the wild flight to stay;
In vain they threaten, and in vain they pray;
Unheard, unheeded, trodden down they ly,
Beneath the wretched feet of crouds that fly.
O're their own Foot trampled the vi'olent Horse.
The guidless Chariots with impet'uous course
Cut wide through both; and all their bloody way
Horses, and Men, torn, bruis'd, and mangled lay.
Some from the Rocks cast themselves down headlong;
The faint weak Passion grows so bold and strong.
To almost certain present death they fly
From a remote and causeless fear to dy.
Much diffe'rent error did some troops possess;

390

And Madness that lookt better, though no less.

1 Sam. 14. 20.

Their fellow troops for th'entred foe they take;
And Isra'els war with mutual slaughter make.
Mean while the King from Gabaas hill did view,

Ib. v. 16.

And hear the thickning Tumult as it grew
Still great and loud; and though he knows not why
They fled, no more then they themselves that fly;
Yet by the storms and terrors of the aire,
Guesses some vengeful Sp'irits working there;
Obeys the loud occasions sacred call,
And fiercely on the trembling Host does fall.
At the same time their Slaves and Prisoners rise;

Ib. 21.

Nor does their much-wisht Liberty suffice
Without Revenge; the scatter'd arms they seise,
And their proud vengeance with the memory please
Of who so lately bore them; All about

Ib. v. 22.

From Rocks and Caves the Hebrews issue out
At the glad noise; joy'd that their foes had shown
A fear that drowns the scandal of their own.
Still did the Prince midst all this storm appeare,
Still scatter'd Deaths and Terrors every where.
Still did he break, still blunt his wearied Swords;
Still slaughter new supplies to'his hand affords.
Where troops yet stood, there still he hotly flew,
And till at last all fled, scorn'd to pursue.
All fled at last, but many in vain; for still
Th'insatiate Conqu'eror was more swift to kill
Then they to save their Lives. Till, lo! at last,
Nature, whose power he had so long surpast,
Would yield no more, but to him stronger foes,
Drought, faintness, and fierce Hunger did oppose.
Reeking all o're in dust, and blood, and sweat,
Burnt with the Suns and violent actions heat,
'Gainst an old Oak his trembling Limbs he staid,
For some short ease; Fate in th'old Oak had laid
Provisions up for his relief; and Lo!
The hollow trunck did with bright Honey flow.

1 Sam. 14. 27.

With timely food his decay'd Sp'irits recruit;
Strong he returns, and fresh to the pursuit,
His strength and sp'irits the Honey did restore;

391

But, oh, the bitter-sweet strange poison bore!
Behold, Sir, and mark well the treach'erous fate,
That does so close on humane glories wait!
Behold the strong, and yet fantastick Net
T'ensnare triumphant Virtue darkly set!
Could it before (scarce can it since) be thought,
The Prince who had alone that morning fought,
A Duel with an Host, had th'Host orethrowne,
And threescore thousand hands disarm'd with One;
Washt off his Countrys shame, and doubly dyde
In Blood and Blushes the Philistian pride,
Had sav'ed and fixt his Fathers tott'ering Crown,
And the bright Gold new burnisht with renown,
Should be e're night by's King and Fathers breath,
Without a fault, vow'd and condemn'd to death?
Destin'ed the bloody Sacrifice to be
Of Thanks Himself for his own Victorie?
Alone with various fate like to become,
Fighting, an Host; Dying, an Hecatombe?
Yet such, Sir, was his case.

1 Sam. 14. 24.

For Saul who fear'd lest the full plenty might
(In the abandon'ed Camp expos'ed to sight)
His hungry men from the pursuit diswade;
A rash, but solemn vow to heav'en had made.
Curst be the wretch, thrice cursed let him be
Who shall touch food this busie day (said he)
Whil'st the blest Sun does with his fav'ouring light
Assist our vengeful Swords against their flight.
Be he thrice curst; and if his Life we spare,
On us those Curses fall that he should bear.
Such was the Kings rash vow; who little thought
How near to him Fate th' Application brought.
The two-edg'd Oath, wounds deep, perform'd or broke;
Ev'en Perjury its least and bluntest stroke.
'Twas his own Son, whom God and Mankind lov'ed,
His own victorious Son that he devov'ed;
On whose bright head the baleful Curses light;
But Providence, his Helmet in the fight,
Forbids their entrance or their setling there;
They with brute sound dissolv'ed into the ayre.

392

Him what Religion, or what vow could bind,
Unknown, unheard of, till he'his Life did find
Entangled in't? whilst wonders he did do
Must he dye now for not be'ing Prophet too?
To all but him this Oath was meant and said;
He afar off, the ends for which 'twas made
Was acting then, till faint and out of breath,
He grew half dead with toil of giving death.
What could his Crime in this condition be,
Excus'ed by Ign'orance and Necessitie?
Yet the remorseless King, who did disdain
That man should hear him swear or threat in vain,
Though'gainst himself; or fate a way should see
By which attaqu'ed and conquer'd he might be:
Who thought Compassion, female weakness here,
And Equity Injustice would appeare
In his own Cause; who falsely fear'd beside
The solemn Curse on Jon'athan did abide,
And the infected Limb not cut away,
Would like a Gangrene o're all Isra'el stray;
Prepar'ed this God-like Sacrifice to kill;
And his rash vow more rashly to fulfil.
What tongue can th'horror and amazement tell
Which on all Israel that sad moment fell?
Tamer had been their grief, fewer their tears,
Had the Philistian fate that day bin theirs.
Not Sauls proud heart could master his swoln Ey;
The Prince alone stood mild and patient by,
So bright his sufferings, so triumphant show'd,
Less to the best then worst of fates he ow'ed.
A victory now he o're himself might boast;
He Conquer'd now that Conqu'eror of an Host.
It charm'd through tears the sad Spectators sight,
Did reverence, love, and gratitude excite
And pious rage, with which inspir'ed they now
Oppose to Sauls a better publick Vow.
They all consent all Israel ought to be
Accurst and kill'd themselves rather then He.
Thus wi[t]h kind force they the glad King withstood,

1 Sam. 14. 45.

And sav'ed their wondrous Saviours sacred blood.

393

Thus David spoke; and much did yet remain
Behind th'attentive Prince to entertain,
Edom and Zoba's war, for what befel

Ib. v. 47.

In that of Moab, was known there too well.
The boundless quarrel with curst Am'alecs land;

1 Sam. 15. 3.

Where Heav'en it self did Cruelty command
And practis'ed on Sauls Mercy, nor did e're
More punish Inno'cent Blood, then Pity there.

Ib. 23.

But, Lo! they 'arriv'ed now at th'appointed place;
Well-chosen and well furnisht for the Chase.

402

Verses written on several occasions.

CHRISTS PASSION

[_]

Taken out of a Greek Ode, written by Mr. Masters of New College in Oxford.

1.

Enough, my Muse, of Earthly things,
And inspirations but of wind,
Take up thy Lute, and to it bind
Loud and everlasting strings;
And on 'em play, and to 'em sing,
The happy mournful stories,
The Lamentable glories,
Of the great Crucified King.
Mountainous heap of wonders! which do'st rise
Till Earth thou joynest with the Skies!
Too large at bottom, and at top too high,
To be half seen by mortal eye.
How shall I grasp this boundless thing?
What shall I play? what shall I sing?
I'll sing the Mighty riddle of mysterious love,
Which neither wretched men below, nor blessed Spirits above
With all their Comments can explain;
How all the whole Worlds Life to die did not disdain.

2.

I'll sing the Searchless depths of the Compassion Divine,
The depths unfathom'd yet
By reasons Plummet, and the line of Wit,
Too light the Plummet, and too short the line,
How the Eternal Father did bestow
His own Eternal Son as ransom for his Foe,
I'll sing aloud, that all the World may hear,
The Triumph of the buried Conquerer.
How Hell was by its Pris'ner Captive led,
And the great slayer Death slain by the Dead.

403

3.

Me thinks I hear of murthered men the voice,
Mixt with the Murderers confused noise,
Sound from the top of Calvarie;
My greedy eyes fly up the Hill, and see
Who 'tis hangs there the midmost of the three;
Oh how unlike the others he!
Look how he bends his gentle head with blessings from the Tree!
His gracious Hands ne'r stretcht but to do good,
Are nail'd to the infamous wood:
And sinful Man do's fondly bind
The Arms, which he extends t'embrace all humane kind.

4.

Unhappy Man, canst thou stand by, and see
All this as patient, as he?
Since he thy Sins do's bear,
Make thou his sufferings thine own,
And weep, and sigh, and groan,
And beat thy Breast, and tear,
Thy Garments, and thy Hair,
And let thy grief, and let thy love
Through all thy bleeding bowels move.
Do'st thou not see thy Prince in purple clad all o're,
Not purple brought from the Sidonian shore,
But made at home with richer gore?
Dost thou not see the Roses, which adorn
The thorny Garland, by him worn?
Dost thou not see the livid traces
Of the sharp scourges rude embraces?
If yet thou feelest not the smart
Of Thorns and Scourges in thy heart,
If that be yet not crucifi'd,
Look on his Hands, look on his Feet, look on his Side.

5.

Open, Oh! open wide the Fountains of thine eyes,
And let 'em call
Their stock of moisture forth, where e're it lies,
For this will ask it all.

404

'Twould all (alas) too little be,
Though thy salt tears came from a Sea:
Canst thou deny him this, when he
Has open'd all his vital Springs for thee?
Take heed; for by his sides misterious flood
May well be understood,
That he will still require some waters to his blood.

On Orinda's Poems.

ODE.

[[1.]]

We allow'd You Beauty, and we did submit
To all the Tyrannies of it;
Ah! Cruel Sex, will you depose us too in Wit?
Orinda does in that too raign,
Does Man behind her in Proud Triumph draw,
And Cancel great Apollo's Salick Law.
We our old Title plead in vain,
Man may be Head, but Woman's now the Brain.
Verse was Loves Fire-arms heretofore,
In Beauties Camp it was not known,
Too many Arms besides that Conquerour bore:
'Twas the great Canon we brought down
T'assault a stubborn Town;
Orinda first did a bold sally make,
Our strongest Quarter take,
And so successful prov'd, that she
Turn'd upon Love himself his own Artillery.

2.

Women as if the Body were their Whole,
Did that, and not the Soul
Transmit to their Posterity;
If in it sometime they conceiv'd,
Th' abortive Issue never liv'd.
'Twere shame and pity' Orinda, if in thee
A Spirit so rich, so noble, and so high
Should unmanur'd, or barren lye.

405

But thou industriously hast sow'd and till'd
The fair, and fruitful field;
And 'tis a strange increase, that it does yield.
As when the happy Gods above
Meet altogether at a feast,
A secret Joy unspeakably does move,
In their great Mother Cybele's contented breast:
With no less pleasure thou methinks shouldst see,
This thy no less immortal Progenie.
And in their Birth thou no one touch dost find,
Of th' ancient curse to Woman-kind,
Thou bringst not forth with pain,
It neither Travel is, nor labour of the brain,
So easily they from thee come,
And there is so much room
In th' unexhausted and unfathom'd Womb,
That like the Holland Countess thou mayst bear
A child for every day of all the fertil year.

3.

Thou dost my wonder, wouldst my envy raise
If to be prais'd I lov'd more than to praise,
Where e're I see an excellence,
I must admire to see thy well knit sense,
Thy numbers gentle, and thy Fancies high,
Those as thy forehead smooth, these sparkling as thine eye.
'Tis solid, and 'tis manly all,
Or rather 'tis Angelical,
For as in Angels, we
Do in thy Verses see
Both improv'd Sexes eminently meet,
They are than Man more strong, and more than Woman sweet.

4.

They talk of Nine, I know not who,
Female Chimera's that o're Poets reign,
I ne'r could find that fancy true,
But have invok'd them oft I'm sure in vain:
They talk of Sappho, but alas, the shame!
Ill manners soil the lustre of her Fame:

406

Orinda's inward virtue is so bright,
That like a Lanthorn's fair inclosed Light,
It through the Paper shines where she do's write.
Honour and Friendship, and the generous scorn
Of things for which we were not born,
(Things that can only by a fond Disease,
Like that of Girles, our vicious Stomachs please)
Are the instructive Subjects of her pen,
And as the Roman Victory
Taught our rude Land, Arts, and Civility,
At once she overcomes, enslaves, and betters Men.

5.

But Rome with all her Arts could ne'r inspire,
A Female Breast with such a fire.
The warlike Amazonian train,
Who in Elysium now do peaceful reign,
And wits milde Empire before Arms prefer,
Hope 'twill be setled in their sex by her.
Merlin the Seer, (and sure he would not ly,
In such a sacred Company,)
Does Prophecies of Learn'd Orinda show,
Which he had darkly spoke so long ago.
Ev'n Boadicia's angry Ghost
Forgets her own misfortune, and disgrace,
And to her injur'd Daughters now does boast,
That Rome's o'ercome at last, by a woman of her Race.

ODE.

Upon occasion of a Copy of Verses of my Lord Broghills.

[[1.]]

Be gon (said I) Ingrateful Muse, and see
What others thou canst fool as well as me.
Since I grew Man, and wiser ought to be,
My business and my hopes I left for thee:

407

For thee (which was more hardly given away)
I left, even when a Boy, my Play.
But say, Ingrateful Mistress, say,
What for all this, what didst Thou ever pay?
Thou'lt say, perhaps, that Riches are
Not of the growth of Lands, where thou dost Trade,
And I, as well my Countrey might upbraid
Because I have no vineyard there.
Well: but in Love, thou dost pretend to Reign,
There thine the power and Lordship is,
Thou bad'st me write, and write, and write again;
'Twas such a way as could not miss.
I like a Fool, did thee Obey,
I wrote, and wrote, but still I wrote in vain,
For after all my expense of Wit and Pain,
A rich, unwriting Hand, carry'd the Prize away.

2.

Thus I complain'd, and straight the Muse reply'd,
That she had given me Fame.
Bounty Immense! And that too must be try'd,
When I my self am nothing but a name.
Who now, what Reader does not strive
T'invalidate the gift whilst w'are alive?
For when a Poet now himself doth show,
As if he were a common Foe,
All draw upon him, all around,
And every part of him they wound,
Happy the Man that gives the deepest blow:
And this is all, kind Muse, to thee we owe.
Then in a rage I took
And out at window threw
Ovid and Horace, all the chiming Crew,
Homer himself went with them too,
Hardly escap'd the sacred Mantuan Book:
I my own Off-spring, like Agave tore
And I resolv'd, nay and I think I swore,
That I no more the Ground would Till and Sow,
Where only flowry Weeds instead of Corn did grow.

408

3.

When (see the subtil ways which Fate does find,
Rebellious man to bind,
Just to the work for which he is assign'd)
The Muse came in more chearful than before,
And bad me quarrel with her now no more.
Loe thy reward! look here and see,
What I have made (said she)
My Lover, and belov'd, my Broghil do for thee.
Though thy own verse no lasting fame can give,
Thou shalt at least in his for ever live.
What Criticks, the great Hectors now in Wit,
Who Rant and Challenge all men that have Writ,
Will dare t' oppose thee when
Broghil in thy defence has drawn his conquering Pen?
I rose and bow'd my head,
And pardon askt for all that I had said,
Well satisfi'd and proud,
I straight resolv'd, and solemnly I vow'd,
That from her service now I ne'r would part.
So strongly, large Rewards work on a grateful Heart.

4.

Nothing so soon the drooping Spirits can raise
As Praises from the Men, whom all men praise.
'Tis the best Cordial, and which only those
Who have at home th' Ingredients can compose,
A Cordial, that restores our fainting Breath,
And keeps up Life even after Death.
The only danger is, lest it should be
Too strong a remedie:
Lest, in removing cold, it should beget
Too violent a heat;
And into madness, turn the Lethargie.
Ah! Gracious God! that I might see
A time when it were dangerous for me
To be o're heat with Praise!
But I within me bear (alas) too great allayes.

409

5.

'Tis said, Apelles, when he Venus drew,
Did naked Women for his pattern view,
And with his powerful fancy did refine
Their humane shapes into a form Divine;
None who had set could her own Picture see,
Or say, One part was drawn for me:
So, though this nobler Painter when he writ,
Was pleas'd to think it fit
That my Book should before him sit,
Not as a cause, but an occasion to his wit:
Yet what have I to boast, or to apply
To my advantage out of it, since I,
Instead of my own likeness, only find
The bright Idea there, of the great Writers mind?

ODE.

Mr. Cowley's Book presenting it self to the University Library of Oxford.

Hail Learnings Pantheon! Hail the sacred Ark
Where all the World of Science do's imbarque!
Which ever shall withstand, and hast so long withstood,
Insatiate Times devouring Flood.
Hail Tree of Knowledg, thy leaves Fruit! which well
Dost in the midst of Paradise arise,
Oxford the Muses Paradise,
From which may never Sword the blest expell.
Hail Bank of all past Ages! where they lye
T' inrich with interest Posterity!
Hail Wits Illustrious Galaxy!
Where thousand Lights into one brightness spread;
Hail living University of the Dead!

2.

Unconfus'd Babel of all tongues, which er'e
The mighty Linguist Fame, or Time the mighty Traveler,
That could speak, or this could hear.

410

Majestick Monument and Pyramide,
Where still the shapes of parted Souls abide
Embalm'd in verse, exalted souls which now
Enjoy those Arts they woo'd so well below,
Which now all wonders plainly see,
That have been, are, or are to be,
In the mysterious Library,
The Beatifick Bodley of the Deity.

3.

Will you into your Sacred throng admit
The meanest British Wit?
You Gen'ral Councel of the Priests of Fame,
Will you not murmur and disdain,
That I place among you claim,
The humblest Deacon of her train?
Will you allow me th' honourable chain?
The chain of Ornament which here
Your noble Prisoners proudly wear;
A Chain which will more pleasant seem to me
Than all my own Pindarick Liberty:
Will ye to bind me with those mighty names submit,
Like an Apocrypha with holy Writ?
What ever happy book is chained here,
No other place or People need to fear;
His Chain's a Pasport to go ev'ry where.

4.

As when a seat in Heaven,
Is to an unmalicious Sinner given,
Who casting round his wondring eye,
Does none but Patriarchs and Apostles there espye;
Martyrs who did their lives bestow,
And Saints who Martyrs liv'd below;
With trembling and amazement he begins,
To recollect his frailties past and sins,
He doubts almost his Station there,
His soul sayes to it self, How came I here?
It fares no otherwise with me
When I my self with conscious wonder see,
Amidst this purifi'd elected Companie.

411

With hardship they, and pain,
Did to this happiness attain:
No labour I, nor merits can pretend,
I think Predestination only was my friend.

5.

Ah, that my Author had been ty'd like me
To such a place, and such a Companie!
Instead of sev'ral Countries, sev'ral Men,
And business which the Muses hate,
He might have then improv'd that small Estate,
Which nature sparingly did to him give,
He might perhaps have thriven then,
And setled, upon me his Child, somewhat to live.
'T had happier been for him, as well as me,
For when all, (alas) is done,
We Books, I mean, You Books, will prove to be
The best and noblest conversation.
For though some errors will get in,
Like Tinctures of Original sin:
Yet sure we from our Fathers wit
Draw all the strength and Spirit of it:
Leaving the grosser parts for conversation,
As the best blood of Man's imploy'd in generation.

ODE.

Sitting and Drinking in the Chair, made out of the Reliques of Sir Francis Drake's Ship.

[[1.]]

Chear up my Mates, the wind does fairly blow,
Clap on more sail and never spare;
Farewell all Lands, for now we are
In the wide Sea of Drink, and merrily we go.
Bless me, 'tis hot! another bowl of wine,
And we shall cut the Burning Line:
Hey Boyes! she scuds away, and by my head I know,
We round the World are sailing now.

412

What dull men are those who tarry at home,
When abroad they might wantonly rome,
And gain such experience, and spy too
Such Countries, and Wonders as I do?
But prythee good Pilot take heed what you do,
And fail not to touch at Peru;
With Gold, there the Vessel we'll store,
And never, and never be poor,
No never be poor any more.

2.

What do I mean? What thoughts do me misguide?
As well upon a staff may Witches ride
Their fancy'd Journies in the Ayr,
As I sail round the Ocean in this Chair:
'Tis true; but yet this Chair which here you see,
For all its quiet now, and gravitie,
Has wandred, and has travailed more,
Than ever Beast, or Fish, or Bird, or ever Tree before.
In every Ayr, and every Sea't has been,
'T has compas'd all the Earth, and all the Heavens 't has seen.
Let not the Pope's it self with this compare,
This is the only Universal Chair.

3.

The pious Wandrers Fleet, sav'd from the flame,
(Which still the Reliques did of Troy persue,
And took them for its due)
A squadron of immortal Nymphs became:
Still with their Arms they row about the Seas,
And still make new and greater voyages;
Nor has the first Poetick Ship of Greece,
(Though now a star she so Triumphant show,
And guide her sailing Successors below,
Bright as her ancient freight the shining fleece;)
Yet to this day a quiet harbour found,
The tide of Heaven still carries her around.
Only Drakes Sacred vessel which before
Had done, and had seen more,
Than those have done or seen,
Ev'n since they Goddesses, and this a Star has been;

413

As a reward for all her labour past,
Is made the seat of rest at last.
Let the case now quite alter'd be,
And as thou went'st abroad the World to see;
Let the World now come to see thee.

4.

The World will do't; for Curiosity
Does no less than devotion, Pilgrims make;
And I my self who now love quiet too,
As much almost as any Chair can do,
Would yet a journey take,
An old wheel of that Chariot to see,
Which Phaeton so rashly brake:
Yet what could that say more than these remains of Drake?
Great Relique! thou too, in this Port of ease,
Hast still one way of Making Voyages;
The breath of fame, like an auspicious Gale,
(The great Trade-wind which ne're does fail,)
Shall drive thee round the World, and thou shalt run,
As long around it as the Sun.
The straights of time too narrow are for thee,
Lanch forth into an indiscovered Sea,
And steer the endless course of vast Eternitie,
Take for thy Sail this Verse, and for thy Pilot Mee.

Upon the Death of the Earl of Balcarres.

1.

Tis folly all, that can be said
By living Mortals of th' immortal dead,
And I'm afraid they laugh at the vain tears we shed.
'Tis, as if we, who stay behind
In Expectation of the wind
Should pity those, who pass'd this strait before,
And touch the universal shore.
Ah happy Man, who art to sail no more!

414

And, if it seem ridiculous to grieve
Because our Friends are newly come from Sea,
Though ne're so fair and calm it be;
What would all sober men believe
If they should hear us sighing say:
Balcarres, who but th' other day
Did all our Love and our respect command,
At whose great parts we all amaz'd did stand,
Is from a storm, alass! cast suddenly on land?

2.

If you will say: Few persons upon Earth
Did more then he, deserve to have
A life exempt from fortune and the grave;
Whether you look upon his Birth,
And Ancestors, whose fame's so widely spred,
But Ancestors alas, who long ago are dead!
Or whither you consider more
The vast increase, as sure you ought,
Of honor by his Labour bought,
And added to the former store.
All I can answer, is, that I allow
The priviledge you plead for; and avow
That, as he well deserv'd, he doth injoy it now.

3.

Though God for great and righteous ends,
Which his unerring Providence intends,
Erroneous mankind should not understand,
Would not permit Balcarres hand,
That once with so much industry and art
Had clos'd the gaping wounds of ev'ry part,
To perfect his distracted Nations Cure,
Or stop the fatal bondage, 't was t'endure;
Yet for his pains he soon did him remove
From all th' oppression and the woe
Of his frail Bodies Native Soil below,
To his Souls true and peaceful Count'ry above:
So God, like Kings, for secret causes known
Sometimes, but to themselves alone,

415

One of their ablest Ministers elect,
And send abroad to Treaties, which th' intend
Shall never take effect.
But, though the Treaty wants a happy end,
The happy agent wants not the reward,
For which he Labour'd faithfully and hard;
His just and righteous Master calls him home,
And gives him near himself some honourable room.

4.

Noble and great endeavours did he bring
To save his Country and restore his King;
And whilst the Manly half of him, which those,
Who know not Love, to be the whole suppose;
Perform'd all parts of Virtues vigorous Life;
The beauteous half his lovely Wife
Did all his Labors and his cares divide;
Nor was a lame, nor paralitick side.
In all the turnes of human state,
And all th' unjust attacques of fate
She bore her share and portion still,
And would not suffer any to be ill.
Unfortunate for ever let me be,
If I believe that such was he,
Whom, in the storms of bad success,
And all that error calls unhappiness,
His virtue, and his virtuous Wife did still accompany.

5.

With these companions 't was not strange
That nothing could his temper change.
His own and Countries union had not weight
Enough to crush his mighty mind.
He saw around the Hurricans of State,
Fixt as an Island 'gainst the waves and wind.
Thus far the greedy Sea may reach,
All outward things are but the [beach];
A great Mans Soul it doth assault in vain.
Their God himself the Ocean doth restrain

416

With an imperceptible chain,
And bid it to go back again:
His Wisdom, Justice, and his Piety,
His Courage both to suffer and to die,
His Virtues and his Lady too
Were things Celestial. And we see
In spight of quarrelling Philosophie,
How in this case 'tis certain found,
That Heav'n stands still, and only Earth goes round.

ODE.

Upon Dr. Harvey.

1.

Coy Nature, (which remain'd, though aged grown,
A Beauteous virgin still, injoy'd by none,
Nor seen unveil'd by any one)
When Harveys violent passion she did see,
Began to tremble, and to flee,
Took Sanctuary like Daphne in a tree:
There Daphnes lover stop't, and thought it much
The very Leaves of her to touch,
But Harvey our Apollo, stopt not so,
Into the Bark, and root he after her did goe:
No smallest Fibres of a Plant,
For which the eiebeams Point doth sharpness want,
His passage after her withstood.
What should she do? through all the moving wood
Of Lives indow'd with sense she took her flight,
Harvey persues, and keeps her still in sight.
But as the Deer long-hunted takes a flood,
She leap't at last into the winding streams of blood;
Of mans Meander all the Purple reaches made,
Till at the heart she stay'd,
Where turning head, and at a Bay,
Thus, by well-purged ears, was she o're-heard to say.

417

2.

Here sure shall I be safe (said she)
None will be able sure to see
This my retreat, but only He
Who made both it and me.
The heart of Man, what Art can e're reveal?
A wall impervious between
Divides the very Parts within,
And doth the Heart of man ev'n from its self conceal.
She spoke, but e're she was aware,
Harvey was with her there,
And held this slippery Proteus in a chain,
Till all her mighty Mysteries she descry'd,
Which from his wit the attempt before to hide
Was the first Thing that Nature did in vain.

3.

He the young Practise of New life did see,
Whil'st to conceal its toilsome Poverty,
It for a living wrought, both hard, and privately.
Before the Liver understood
The noble Scarlet Dye of Blood,
Before one drop was by it made,
Or brought into it, to set up the Trade;
Before the untaught Heart began to beat
The tuneful March to vital Heat,
From all the Souls that living Buildings rear,
Whether imply'd for Earth, or Sea, or Air,
Whether it in the Womb or Egg be wrought,
A strict account to him is hourly brought,
How the Great Fabrick does proceed,
What time and what materials it does need.
He so exactly does the work survey,
As if he hir'd the workers by the day.

4.

Thus Harvey sought for Truth in Truth's own Book
The Creatures, which by God himself was writ;
And wisely thought 'twas fit,
Not to read Comments only upon it,
But on th'original it self to look.

418

Methinks in Arts great Circle others stand
Lock't up together, Hand in Hand,
Every one leads as he is led,
The same bare path they tread,
A Dance like Fairies a Fantastick round,
But neither change their motion, nor their ground:
Had Harvey to this Road confin'd his wit,
His noble Circle of the Blood, had been untroden yet.
Great Doctor! Th' Art of Curing's cur'd by thee,
We now thy patient Physick see,
From all inveterate diseases free,
Purg'd of old errors by thy care,
New dieted, put forth to clearer air,
It now will strong and healthful prove,
It self before Lethargick lay, and could not move.

5.

These useful secrets to his Pen we owe,
And thousands more 'twas ready to bestow;
Of which a barb'rous Wars unlearned Rage
Has robb'd the ruin'd age;
O cruel loss! as if the Golden Fleece,
With so much cost, and labour bought,
And from a far by a Great Heroe brought
Had sunk ev'n in the Ports of Greece.
O cursed Warr! who can forgive thee this?
Houses and Towns may rise again,
And ten times easier it is
To rebuild Pauls, than any work of his.
That mighty Task none but himself can do,
Nay, scarce himself too now,
For though his Wit the force of Age withstand,
His Body alas! and Time it must command,
And Nature now, so long by him surpass't,
Will sure have her revenge on him at last.

419

ODE.

Acme and Septimius out of Catullus.

Acmen Septimius suos amores Tenens in gremio, &c.

Whilst on Septimius panting Brest,
(Meaning nothing less then Rest)
Acme lean'd her loving head,
Thus the pleas'd Septimius said.

My dearest Acme, if I be
Once alive, and love not thee
With a Passion far above
All that e're was called Love,
In a Lybian desert may
I become some Lions prey,
Let him, Acme, let him tear
My Brest, when Acme is not there.

The God of Love who stood to hear him,
(The God of Love was always near him)
Pleas'd and tickl'd with the sound,
Sneez'd aloud, and all around
The little Loves that waited by,
Bow'd and blest the Augurie.

Acme enflam'd with what he said,
Rear'd her gently-bending head,
And her purple mouth with joy
Stretching to the delicious Boy
Twice (and twice could scarce suffice)
She kist his drunken, rowling eyes.

My little Life, my All (said she)
So may we ever servants be
To this best God, and ne'r retain
Our hated Liberty again,
So may thy passion last for me,
As I a passion have for thee,
Greater and fiercer much then can

420

Be conceiv'd by Thee a Man.
Into my Marrow is it gone,
Fixt and setled in the Bone,
It reigns not only in my Heart,
But runs, like Life, through ev'ry part.
She spoke; the God of Love aloud,
Sneez'd again, and all the crowd
Of little Loves that waited by,
Bow'd and blest the Augurie.
This good Omen thus from Heaven
Like a happy signal given,
Their Loves and Lives (all four) embrace,
And hand in hand run all the race.
To poor Septimius (who did now
Nothing else but Acme grow)
Acme's bosome was alone,
The whole worlds Imperial Throne,
And to faithful Acmes mind
Septimius was all Human kind.
If the Gods would please to be
But advis'd for once by me,
I'de advise 'em when they spie,
Any illustrious Piety,
To reward Her, if it be she;
To reward Him, if it be He;
With such a Husband, such a Wife,
With Acme's and Septimius' Life.

ODE.

Upon His Majesties Restoration and Return.

Virgil.—Quod optanti Divûm promittere nemo Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultro.

1.

Now Blessings on you all, ye peaceful Starrs,
Which meet at last so kindly, and dispence
Your universal gentle Influence,
To calm the stormy World, and still the rage of Warrs.

421

Nor whilst around the Continent,
Plenipotentiary Beams ye sent,
Did your Pacifick Lights disdain,
In their large Treaty to contain
The world apart, o're which do raign
Your seven fair Brethren of Great Charls his Wane;
No Star amon[g]st ye all did, I believe,
Such vigorous assistance give,
As that which thirty years ago,
At Charls his Birth, did, in despight
Of the proud Sun's Meridian Light,
His future Glories, and this Year foreshow,
No less effects than these we may
Be assur'd of from that powerful Ray,
Which could out-face the Sun, and overcome the Day.

2.

Auspicious Star again arise,
And take thy Noon-tide station in the skies,
Again all Heaven prodigiously adorn;
For loe! thy Charls again is Born.
He then was Born with and to pain:
With, and to Joy he's born again.
And wisely for this second Birth,
By which thou certain wert to bless
The Land with full and flourishing Happiness
Thou mad'st of that fair Month thy choice,
In which Heaven, Air, and Sea, and Earth,
And all that's in them all does smile, and does rejoyce.
'Twas a right Season, and the very Ground
Ought with a face of Paradise to be found,
Th[e]n when we were to entertain
Felicity and Innocence again.

3.

Shall we again (good Heaven!) that Blessed pair behold,
Which the abused People fondly sold

422

For the bright Fruit of the forbidden Tree,
By seeking all like gods to be?
Will Peace her Halcyon Nest venture to build
Upon a Shore with Shipwracks fill'd?
And trust that Sea, where she can hardly say,
Sh'has known these twenty years one calmy day,
Ah! mild and gaulless Dove,
Which dost the pure and candid Dwellings love:
Canst thou in Albion still delight?
Still canst thou think it white?
Will ever fair Religion appear
In these deformed Ruins? will she clear
Th'Augæan Stables of her Churches here?
Will Justice hazard to be seen
Where a High Court of Justice e're has been?
Will not the Tragique Scene,
And Bradshaw's bloody Ghost affright her there,
Her who shall never fear?
Then may White-hall for Charles his Seat be fit.
If Justice shall endure at Westminster to sit.

4.

Of all, methinks, we least should see
The chearful looks again of Liberty.
That Name of Cromwell, which does freshly still
The Curses of so many sufferers fill,
Is still enough to make her stay,
And jealous for a while remain,
Lest as a Tempest carried him away,
Some Hurican should bring him back again.
Or she might justlier be afraid
Lest that great Serpent, which was all a Tail,
(And in his poys'nous folds whole Nations Pris'ners made)
Should a third time perhaps prevail
To joyn again, and with worse sting arise,
As it had done, when cut in pieces twice.
Return, return, ye Sacred Four,
And dread your perisht Enemies no more,
Your fears are causeless all, and vain
Whilst you return in Charles his train,

423

For God does Him, that He might You restore,
Nor shall the world him only call,
Defender of the Faith, but of ye All.

5.

Along with you Plenty and Riches go
With a full Tide to every Port they flow,
With a warm fruitful wind o're all the Countrey blow.
Honour does as ye march her Trumpet sound,
The Arts encompass you around,
And against all Alarms of Fear,
Safety it self brings up the Rear.
And in the head of this Angelique band,
Lo, how the Goodly Prince at last does stand
(O righteous God!) on his own happy Land.
'Tis Happy now, which could, with so much ease
Recover from so desperate a Disease,
A various complicated Ill,
Whose every Symptome was enough to kill,
In which one part of Three Frenzey possest,
And Lethargy the rest.
'Tis Happy, which no Bleeding does indure
A Surfet of such Blood to cure.
'Tis Happy, which beholds the Flame
In which by hostile hands it ought, to burn,
Or that which if from Heaven it came
It did but well deserve, all into Bonfire turn.

6.

We fear'd (and almost toucht the black degree
Of instant Expectation)
That the three dreadful Angels we
Of Famine, Sword and Plague should here establisht see;
(God's great Triumvirate of Desolation)
To scourge and to destroy the sinful Nation.
Justly might Heav'n Protectors such as those,
And such Committees for their Safety impose,
Upon a Land which scarsely Better chose.
We fear'd that the Fanatique war
Which men against God's houses did declare,

424

Would from th'Almighty Enemy bring down
A sure destruction on our Own.
We read th' Instructive Histories which tell
Of all those endless mischiefs that befell,
The Sacred Town which God had lov'd so well,
After that fatal Curse had once been said,
His Blood be upon ours, and on our Childrens head.
We knew, though there a greater Blood was spilt,
'Twas scarcely done with greater Guilt.
We know those miseries did befall
Whilst they rebell'd against that Prince whom all
The rest of Mankind did the Love, and Joy, of Mankind call.

7.

Already was the shaken Nation
Into a wild and deform'd Chaos brought
And it was hasting on (we thought)
Even to the last of [Ills,] Annihilation.
When in the midst of this confused Night,
Loe, the blest Spirit mov'd, and there was Light.
For in the glorious General's previous Ray,
We saw a new created Day.
We by it saw, though yet in Mists it shone,
The beauteous Work of Order moving on.
Where are the men who bragg'd that God did bless,
And with the marks of good success
Signe his allowance of their wickedness?
Vain men! who thought the Divine Power to find
In the fierce Thunder and the violent Wind:
God came not till the storm was past,
In the still voice of Peace he came at last.
'The cruel business of Destruction,
May by the Claws of the great Fiend be done.
Here, here we see th' Almighty's hand indeed,
Both by the Beauty of the Work, we see't, and by the Speed.

8.

He who had seen the noble British Heir,
Even in that ill disadvantageous Light,
With which [misfortune] strives t'abuse our sight;
He who had seen him in his Clowd so bright:

425

He who had seen the double Pair
Of Brothers heavenly good, and Sisters heavenly fair,
Might have perceiv'd (me thinks) with ease,
(But wicked men see only what they please)
That God had no intent t'extinguish quite
The pious King's eclipsed Right.
He who had seen how by the power Divine
All the young Branches of this Royal Line
Did in their fire without consuming shine,
How through a rough Red sea they had been led,
By Wonders guarded, and by Wonders fed.
How many years of trouble and distress
They'd wandred in their fatal Wilderness,
And yet did never murmure or repine;
Might (me-thinks) plainly understand,
That after all these conquer'd Trials past,
Th'Almighty Mercy would at last
Conduct them with a strong un-erring hand
To their own promis'd Land.
For all the glories of the Earth
Ought to be entail'd by right of Birth
And all Heaven's blessings to come down
Upon his Race, to whom alone was given
The double Royalty of Earth and Heaven,
Who crown'd the Kingly with the Martyrs Crown.

9.

The Martyr's blood was said of old to be
The seed from whence the Church did grow.
The Royal Blood which dying Charles did sow
Becomes no less the seed of Royalty.
'Twas in dishonour sown,
We find it now in glory grown,
The grave could but the dross of it devour;
'Twas sown in weakness, and 'tis rais'd in power.
We now the Question well decided see,
Which Eastern Wits did once contest
At the Great Monarch's Feast
Of all on earth what things the strongest be:
And some for Women, some for Wine did plead;

426

That is, for Folly and for Rage,
Two things which we have known indeed
Strong in this latter Age.
But as 'tis prov'd by Heaven at length,
The King and Truth have greatest strength,
When they their sacred force unite,
And twine into one Right,
No frantick Common-wealths or Tyrannies,
No Cheats, and Perjuries, and Lies,
No Nets of humane Policies;
No stores of Arms or Gold (though you could joyn
Those of Peru to the great London Mine)
No Towns, no Fleets by Sea, or Troops by Land,
No deeply entrencht Islands can withstand,
Or any small resistance bring
Against the naked Truth, and the unarmed King.

10.

The foolish Lights which Travellers beguile,
End the same night when they begin;
No Art so far can upon Nature win
As e're to put out Stars, or long keep Meteors in.
Wher's now that Ignis Fatuus which e're while
Mis-lead our wandring Isle?
Wher's the Imposter Cromwel gon?
Where's now that Falling-star his Son?
Where's the large Comet now whose raging flame
So fatal to our Monarchy became?
Which o're our heads in such proud horror stood,
Insatiate with our Ruine and our Blood?
The fiery Tail did to vast length extend;
And twice for want of Fuel did expire,
And twice renew'd the dismal Fire;
Though long the Tayl we saw at last its end.
The flames of one triumphant day,
Which like an Anti-Comet here
Did fatally to that appear,
For ever frighted it away;
Then did th'allotted hour of dawning Right
First strike our ravisht sight

427

Which Malice or which Art no more could stay,
Than Witches Charms can a retardment bring
To the Resuscitation of the Day,
Or Resurrection of the Spring.
We welcome both, and with improv'd delight
Bless the preceding Winter and the Night.

11.

Man ought his future Happiness to fear,
If he be always Happy here
He wants the bleeding Mark of Grace,
The Circumcision of the chosen race.
If no one part of him supplies
The duty of a Sacrifice,
He is (we doubt) reserv'd intire
As a whole Victime for the Fire.
Besides even in this World below,
To those who never did ill Fortune know,
The good does nauseous or insipid grow.
Consider man's whole Life, and you'l confess,
The sharp Ingredient of some bad success
Is that which gives the taste to all his Happiness.
But the true Method of Felicity,
Is when the worst
Of humane Life is plac'd the first,
And when the Childs Correction proves to be
The cause of perfecting the Man
Let our weak Dayes lead up the Van,
Let the brave Second and Triarian Band,
Firm against all impression stand;
The first we may defeated see;
The Virtue and the Force of these, are sure of Victory.

12.

Such are the years (great Charles) which now we see
Begin their glorious March with Thee:
Long may their March to Heaven, and still Triumphant be.
Now thou art gotten once before,
Ill Fortune never shall o're-take thee more.

428

To see't again, and pleasure in it find,
Cast a disdainful look behind,
Things which offend, when present, and affright,
In Memory, well painted, move delight.
Enjoy then all thy affictions now;
Thy Royal Father's came at last:
Thy Martyrdom's already past.
And different Crowns to both ye owe.
No gold did e're the Kingly Temples bind,
Than thine more try'd and more refin'd.
As a choise Medal for Heaven's Treasury
God did stamp first upon one side of Thee
The Image of his suffering Humanity:
On th' other side, turn'd now to sight, does shine
The glorious Image of his Power Divine.

13.

So when the wisest Poets seek
In all their liveliest colours to set forth
A Picture of Heroick worth,
(The Pious Trojan, or the Prudent Greek)
They chuse some comely Prince of heavenly Birth,
(No proud Gigantick son of Earth,
Who strives t' usurp the god's forbidden seat)
They feed him not with Nectar, and the Meat
That cannot without Joy be eat.
But in the cold of want, and storms of adverse chance,
They harden his young Virtue by degrees;
The beauteous Drop first into Ice does freez,
And into solid Chrystal next advance.
His murdered friends and kindred he does see,
And from his flaming Country flee.
Much is he tost at Sea, and much at Land,
Does long the force of angry gods withstand.
He does long troubles and long wars sustain,
E're he his fatal Birth-right gain.
With no less time or labour can
Destiny build up such a Man,
Who's with sufficient virtue fill'd
His ruin'd Country to rebuild.

429

14.

Nor without cause are Arms from Heaven,
To such a Hero by the Poets given.
No human Metal is of force t' oppose
So many and so violent blows.
Such was the Helmet, Breast-plate, Shield,
Which Charles in all Attaques did wield:
And all the Weapons Malice e're could try,
Of all the several makes of wicked Policy,
Against this Armour struck, but at the stroke,
Like Swords of Ice, in thousand pieces broke.
To Angels and their Brethren Spirits above,
No show on Earth can sure so pleasant prove,
As when they great misfortunes see
With Courage born and Decency.
So were they born when Worc'ster's dismal Day
Did all the terrors of black Fate display.
So were they born when no Disguises clowd
His inward Royalty could shrowd,
And one of th' Angels whom just God did send
To guard him in his noble flight,
(A Troop of Angels did him then attend)
Assur'd me in a Vision th' other night,
That He (and who could better judge than He?)
Did then more Greatnesse in him see,
More Lustre and more Majesty,
Than all his Coronation Pomp can shew to Human Eye.

15.

Him and his Royal Brothers when I saw
New marks of honour and of glory,
From their affronts and sufferings draw,
And look like Heavenly Saints even in their Purgatory;
Me-thoughts I saw the three Judæan Youths,
(Three unhurt Martyrs for the Noblest Truths)
In the Chaldæan Furnace walk;
How chearfully and unconcern'd they talk!
No hair is sindg'd, no smallest beauty blasted;
Like painted Lamps they shine unwasted.

430

The greedy fire it self dares not be fed
With the blest Oyl of an Anointed Head.
The honourable Flame
(Which rather Light we ought to name)
Does, like a [G]lory compass them around,
And their whole Body's crown'd.
What are those Two Bright Creatures which we see
Walk with the Royal Three
In the same Ordeal fire,
And mutual Joyes inspire?
Sure they the beauteous Sisters are,
Who whilst they seek to bear their share,
Will suffer no affiction to be there.
Less favour to those Three of old was shown,
To solace with their company,
The fiery Trials of Adversity;
Two Angels joyn with these, the others had but One.

16.

Come forth, come forth, ye men of God belov'd,
And let the power now of that flame,
Which against you so impotent became,
On all your Enemies be proved.
Come, mighty Charls, desire of Nations, come;
Come, you triumphant Exile, home.
He's come, he's safe at shore; I hear the noise
Of a whole Land which does at once rejoyce,
I hear th' united People's sacred voice.
The Sea which circles us around,
Ne're sent to Land so loud a sound;
The mighty shout sends to the Sea a Gale,
And swells up every sail;
The Bells and Guns are scarcely heard at all;
The Artificial Joy's drown'd by the Natural.
All England but one Bonefire seems to be,
One Ætna shooting flames into the Sea.
The Starry Worlds which shine to us afar,
Take ours at this time for a Star.
With Wine all rooms, with Wine the Conduits flow;
And We, the Priests of a Poetick rage,

431

Wonder that in this Golden Age
The Rivers too should not do so.
There is no Stoick sure who would not now,
Even some Excess allow;
And grant that one wild fit of chearful folly
Should end our twenty years of dismal Melancholy.

17.

Where's now the Royal Mother, where,
To take her mighty share
In this so ravishing sight,
And with the part she takes to add to the Delight?
Ah! Why art Thou not here,
Thou always Best, and now the Happiest Queen,
To see our Joy, and with new Joy be seen?
God has a bright Example made of Thee,
To shew that Woman-kind may be
Above that Sex, which her Superiour seems,
In wisely managing the wide Extreams
Of great Affliction, great Felicity.
How well those different Virtues Thee become,
Daughter of Triumphs, Wife of Martyrdom!
Thy Princely Mind with so much Courage bore
Affliction, that it dares return no more;
With so much Goodness us'd Felicity,
That it cannot refrain from coming back to Thee;
'Tis come, and seen to day in all it's Bravery.

18.

Who's that Heroick Person leads it on,
And gives it like a glorious Bride
(Richly adorn'd with Nuptial Pride)
Into the hands now of thy Son?
'Tis the good General, the Man of Praise,
Whom God at last in gracious pitty
Did to th' enthrall'd Nation raise,
Their great Zerubbabel to be,
To loose the Bonds of long Captivity,
And to rebuild their Temple and their City.

432

For ever blest may He and His remain,
Who, with a vast, though less-appearing gain,
Preferr'd the solid Great above the Vain,
And to the world this Princely Truth has shown,
That more 'tis to Restore, than to Usurp a Crown.
Thou worthiest Person of the Brittish Story,
(Though 'tis not small the Brittish glory)
Did I not know my humble Verse must be
But ill-proportion'd to the Heighth of Thee,
Thou, and the World should see,
How much my Muse, the Foe of Flattery,
Do's make true Praise her Labour and Design;
An Iliad or an Æneid should be Thine.

19.

And ill should We deserve this happy day,
If no acknowledgments we pay
To you, great Patriots, of the Two
Most truly Other Houses now,
Who have redeem'd from hatred and from shame
A Parliaments once venerable name;
And now the Title of a House restore,
To that, which was but slaughter-house before.
If my advice, ye Worthies, might be ta'ne,
Within those reverend places,
Which now your living presence graces,
Your Marble-Statues alwayes should remain,
To keep alive your useful Memory,
And to your Successors th' Example be
Of Truth, Religion, Reason, Loyalty.
For though a firmly setled Peace
May shortly make your publick labours cease,
The grateful Nation will with joy consent,
That in this sense you should be said,
(Though yet the Name sounds with some dread)
To be the Long, the Endless Parliament.

The Star that appeared at Noon, the day of the Kings Birth, just as the King His Father was riding to St. Pauls to give thanks to God for that Blessing.

433

On the Queens Repairing Somerset House.

When God (the Cause to Me and Men unknown)
Forsook the Royal Houses, and his Own,
And both abandon'd to the Common Foe;
How near to ruine did my Glories go?
Nothing remain'd t' adorn this Princely place
Which Covetous hands could Take, or Rude Deface.
In all my rooms and galleries I found
The richest Figures torn, and all around
Dismembred Statues of great Heroes lay;
Such Naseby's Field seem'd on the fatal Day.
And Me, when nought for Robbery was left,
They starv'd to death; the gasping walls were cleft,
The Pillars sunk, the Roofs above me wept,
No sign of Spring, or Joy, my Garden kept,
Nothing was seen which could content the Eye,
Till Dead the impious Tyrant Here did lye.

See how my face is chang'd, and what I am
Since my true Mistress, and now Foundress, came.
It does not fill her Bounty to restore
Me as I was (nor was I small) before.
She imitates the Kindness to Her shown;
She does, like Heaven (which the dejected Throne
At once restores, fixes, and higher rears.)
Strengthen, Enlarge, Exalt what she Repairs.
And now I dare (though proud I must not be,
Whil'st my great Mistress I so Humble see
In all her various Glories) now I dare
Ev'n with the proudest Palaces compare,
My Beauty, and Convenience will (I'm sure)
So just a boast with Modesty endure.
And all must to me yield, when I shall tell,
How I am plac'd, and Who does in me dwell.

Before my Gate a Street's broad Channel goes,
Which still with Waves of crowding people flows,
And every day there passes by my side,
Up to its Western Reach, the London Tide,

434

The Spring-Tides of the Term; my Front looks down
On all the Pride, and Business of the Town.
My other Front (for as in Kings we see
The liveliest Image of the Deity,
We in their Houses should Heaven's likeness find,
Where nothing can be said to be Behind)
My other fair and more Majestick Face
(Who can the Fair to more advantage place?)
For ever gazes on it self below
In the best Mirrour that the world can show.

And here, Behold, in a long bending row,
How two joynt Cities make one glorious Bow,
The Midst, the noblest place, possess'd by Me;
Best to be Seen by all, and all O'resee.
Which way soe'r I turn my joyful Eye,
Here the Great Court, there the rich Town, I spy;
On either side dwells Safety and Delight;
Wealth on the Left, and Power upon the Right.
T' assure yet my defence, on either hand,
Like mighty Forts, in equal distance stand
Two of the best and stateliest piles, which e're
Man's liberal Piety of old did rear,
Where the two Princes of th' Apostles Band,
My Neighbours and my Guards, watch and command.

My warlike Guard of Ships, which farther lye,
Might be my Object too, were not the Eye
Stopt by the Houses of that wondrous Street
Which rides o're the broad River, like a Fleet.
The Stream's eternal Siege they fixt abide,
And the swoln Stream's Auxiliary Tide,
Though both their ruine with joynt power conspire,
Both to out-brave, they nothing dread but Fire.
And here my Thames, though it more gentle be
Than any Flood, so strength'ned by the Sea,
Finding by Art his Natural forces broke,
And bearing, Captive-like, the Arched Yoke,
Do's roar, and foam, and rage at the disgrace,
But recomposes strait and calms his Face,
Is into reverence and submission strook,
As soon as from afar he does but look

435

Tow'rds the White Palace where that King does reign
Who lays his Laws and Bridges o're the Main.

Amidst these lowder Honours of my Seat,
And two vast Cities, troublesomly Great,
In a large various plain the Country too
Opens her gentler blessings to my View,
In me the Active and the Quiet Mind
By different wayes equal content may find.
If any prouder Vertuoso's sence
At that part of my Prospect take offence,
By which the meaner Cabanes are descri'd,
Of my Imperial River's humbler side,
If they call that a Blemish, let them know,
God, and my God-like Mistress, think not so;
For the distrest and the afflicted lye
Most in their Care, and always in their Eye.

And thou, fair River, who still pay'st to Me
Just Homage, in thy passage to the Sea,
Take here this one Instruction as thou goest;
When thy mixt Waves shall visit every Coast,
When round the world their Voyage they shall make,
And back to Thee some secret Channels take,
Ask them what nobler sight they e're did meet
Except thy mighty Master's Soveraign Fleet,
Which now triumphant o're the Main does ride,
The Terror of all Lands, the Ocean's Pride.

From hence his Kingdom's Happy now at last,
(Happy, if Wise by their Misfortunes past)
From hence may Omens take of that success
Which both their future Wars and Peace shall bless:
The Peaceful Mother on mild Thames does build,
With her Son's Fabricks the rough Sea is fill'd.

The Complaint.

1.

In a deep Vision's intellectual scene,
Beneath a Bow'r for sorrow made,
Th' uncomfortable shade,
Of the black Yew's unlucky green,

436

Mixt with the mourning Willow's careful gray,
Where Reverend Cham cuts out his Famous way,
The Melancholy Cowley lay:
And Lo! a Muse appear'd to' his closed sight,
(The Muses oft in Lands of Vision play)
Bodied, arrayed, and seen, by an internal Light,
A golden Harp, with silver strings she bore,
A wondrous Hieroglyphick Robe she wore,
In which all Colours, and all figures were,
That Nature or that Fancy can create,
That Art can never imitate;
And with loose Pride it wanton'd in the Air.
In such a Dress, in such a well-cloath'd Dream,
She us'd, of old, near fair Ismenus Stream,
Pindar her Theban Favourite to meet;
A Crown was on her Head, and wings were on her Feet.

2.

She touch'd him with her Harp, and rais'd him from the Ground;
The shaken strings Melodiously Resound.
Art thou return'd at last, said she,
To this forsaken place and me?
Thou Prodigal, who didst so loosely waste
Of all thy Youthful years, the good Estate;
Art thou return'd here, to repent too late?
And gather husks of Learning up at last,
Now the rich harvest time of Life is past,
And Winter marches on so fast?
But, when I meant t' adopt Thee for my Son,
And did as learn'd a Portion assign,
As ever any of the mighty Nine
Had to their dearest Children done;
When I resolv'd t' exalt thy' anointed Name,
Among the Spiritual Lords of peaceful Fame;
Thou Changling, thou, bewitcht with noise and show,
Wouldst into Courts and Cities from me go;
Wouldst see the World abroad, and have a share
In all the follies, and the Tumults there,
Thou would'st, forsooth, be something in a State,
And business thou would'st find, and would'st Create:

437

Business! the frivolous pretence
Of humane Lusts to shake off Innocence;
Business! the grave impertinence:
Business! the thing which I of all things hate,
Business! the contradiction of thy Fate.

3.

Go, Renegado, cast up thy Account,
And see to what Amount
Thy foolish gains by quitting me:
The sale of Knowledge, Fame, and Liberty,
The fruits of thy unlearn'd Apostacy,
Thou thought'st if once the publick storm were past,
All thy remaining Life should sun-shine be:
Behold the publick storm is spent at last,
The Sovereign is tost at Sea no more,
And thou, with all the Noble Company,
Art got at last to shore.
But whilst thy fellow Voyagers, I see
All marcht up to possess the promis'd Land,
Thou still alone (alas) dost gaping stand,
Upon the naked Beach, upon the Barren Sand.

4.

As a fair morning of the blessed spring,
After a tedious stormy night;
Such was the glorious entry of our King,
Enriching moysture drop'd on every thing:
Plenty he sow'd below, and cast about him light.
But then (alas) to thee alone,
One of Old Gideons Miracles was shown,
For every Tree, and every Herb around,
With Pearly dew was crown'd,
And upon all the quickned ground,
The fruitful seed of Heaven did brooding lye,
And nothing but the Muses Fleece was dry.
It did all other Threats surpass,
When God to his own People said,
(The Men whom through long wandrings he had led)
That he would give them ev'n a Heaven of Brass:

438

They look'd up to that Heaven in vain,
That Bounteous Heaven, which God did not restrain,
Upon the most unjust to Shine and Rain.

5.

The Rachel, for which twice seven years and more,
Thou didst with Faith and Labour serve,
And didst (if Faith and labour can) deserve,
Though she contracted was to thee,
Giv'n to another thou didst see,
Giv'n to another who had store
Of fairer, and of Richer Wives before,
And not a Leah left, thy recompence to be.
Go on, twice seven years more, thy fortune try,
Twice seven years more, God in his bounty may
Give thee, to fling away
Into the Courts deceitful Lottery.
But think how likely 'tis, that thou
With the dull work of thy unweildy Plough,
Shouldst in a hard and Barren season thrive,
Shouldst even able be to live;
Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall,
In the miraculous year, when Manna rain'd on all.

6.

Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile,
That seem'd at once to pity and revile.
And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head,
The Melancholy Cowley said,
Ah wanton foe, dost thou upbraid
The Ills which thou thy self hast made?
When in the Cradle, Innocent I lay,
Thou, wicked Spirit, stolest me away,
And my abused Soul didst bear,
Into thy new-found Worlds I know not where,
Thy Golden Indies in the Air;
And ever since I strive in vain
My ravisht freedom to regain;
Still I Rebel, still thou dost Reign,
Lo, still in verse against thee I complain.

439

There is a sort of stubborn Weeds,
Which, if the Earth but once, it ever breeds.
No wholsom Herb can near them thrive,
No useful Plant can keep alive:
The foolish sports I did on thee bestow,
Make all my Art and Labour fruitless now;
Where once such Fairies dance, no grass doth ever grow.

7.

When my new mind had no infusion known,
Thou gav'st so deep a tincture of thine own,
That ever since I vainly try
To wash away th' inherent dye:
Long work perhaps may spoil thy Colours quite,
But never will reduce the Native white:
To all the Ports of Honour and of Gain,
I often steer my course in vain,
Thy Gale comes cross, and drives me back again.
Thou slack'nest all my Nerves of Industry,
By making them so oft to be
The tinckling strings of thy loose minstrelsie.
Who ever this worlds happiness would see,
Must as entirely cast off thee,
As they who only Heaven desire,
Do from the world retire.
This was my Errour, This my gross mistake,
My self a demy-votary to make.
Thus with Saphira, and her Husbands fate,
(A fault which I like them, am taught too late)
For all that I gave up, I nothing gain,
And perish for the part which I retain.

8.

Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse,
The Court, and better King t' accuse;
The Heaven under which I live is fair;
The fertile soil will a full Harvest bear;
Thine, thine is all the Barrenness; if thou
Mak'st me sit still and sing, when I should plough,

440

When I but think, how many a tedious year
Our patient Soveraign did attend
His long misfortunes fatal end;
How chearfully, and how exempt from fear,
On the Great Soveraigns Will he did depend:
I ought to be accurst, if I refuse
To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse!
Kings have long hands (they say) and though I be
So distant, they may reach at length to me.
However, of all Princes thou
Shouldst not reproach Rewards for being small or slow;
Thou who rewardest but with popular breath,
And that too after death.

The Adventures of Five hours.

As when our Kings (Lords of the spacious Main)
Take in just wars a rich Plate Fleet of Spain;
The rude unshapen Ingots they reduce
Into a form of Beauty and of use;
On which the Conquerors Image now does shine,
Not His whom it belong'd to in the Mine;
So in the mild Contentions of the Muse
(The War which Peace it self loves and persues)
So have you home to us in triumph brought,
This Cargazon of Spain with Treasures fraught,
You have not basely gotten it by stealth,
Nor by Translation borrow'd all its wealth,
But by a pow'rful Spirit made it your own
Metal before, Money by you 'tis grown.
'Tis currant now, by your adorning it
With the fair stamp of your victorious wit:

But though we praise this voyage of your Mind,
And though our selves enricht by it we find,
We 're not contented yet, because we know
What greater stores at home within it grow;
We 've seen how well you forrain Oars refine,
Produce the Gold of your own Nobler Mine.

441

The world shall then our Native plenty view,
And fetch materials for their wit from you,
They all shall watch the travails of your Pen,
And Spain on you shall make Reprisals then.

On the death of Mrs. Katherine Philips.

[[1.]]

Cruel disease! Ah, could it not suffice
Thy old and constant spight to exercise
Against the gentlest and the fairest Sex,
Which still thy Depredations most do vex?
Where stil thy Malice most of all
(Thy Malice or thy Lust) does on the fairest fall?
And in them most assault the fairest place,
The Throne of Empress Beauty, ev'n the Face?
There was enough of that here to asswage,
(One would have thought) either thy Lust or Rage,
Was't not enough, when thou, prophane Disease,
Didst on this Glorious Temple seize.
Was't not enough, like a wild Zealot, there,
All the rich outward Ornaments to tear,
Deface the innocent pride of beauteous Images?
Was't not enough thus rudely to defile
But thou must quite destroy the goodly Pile?
And thy unbounded Sacriledge commit
On th' inward Holiest Holy of her Wit?
Cruel disease! There thou mistook'st thy power;
No Mine of Death can that devour,
On her embalmed Name it will abide
An everlasting Pyramide,
As high as Heav'n the top, as Earth, the Basis wide.

2.

All Ages past, record, all Countreys now,
In various kinds such equal Beauties show,
That ev'n Judge Paris would not know
On whom the Golden Apple to bestow,
Though Goddesses to' his sentence did submit
Women and Lovers would appeal from it:

442

Nor durst he say, Of all the Female race,
This is the Sovereign Face.
And some (though these be of a kind that's Rare,
That's much, ah, much less frequent then the Fair)
So equally renown'd for Virtue are,
That it the Mother of the Gods might pose,
When the best Woman for her guide she chose.
But if Apollo should design
A Woman Laureat to make,
Without dispute he would Orinda take,
Though Sappho and the famous Nine
Stood by, and did repine.
To be a Princess or a Queen
Is Great; but 'tis a Greatness always seen;
The World did never but two Women know,
Who, one by fraud, th' other by with did rise
To the two tops of Spiritual Dignities,
One Female Pope of old, one Female Poet now.

3.

Of Female Poets who had names of old
Nothing is shown, but only Told,
And all we hear of them perhaps may be
Male-Flatt'ry only, and Male-Poetry.
Few minutes did their Beauties Lightning waste,
The Thunder of their voice did longer last,
But that too soon was past.
The certain proofs of our Orinda's wit,
In her own lasting Characters are writ,
And they will long my praise of them survive,
Though long perhaps too that may live.
The Trade of Glory mannag'd by the Pen
Though great it be, and every where is found
Does bring in but small profit to us Men;
'Tis by the number of the sharers drown'd.
Orinda on the Female coasts of Fame,
Ingrosses all the Goods of a Poetique Name.
She does no Partner with her see,
Does all the business there alone, which we
Are forc'd to carry on by a whole Company.

443

4.

But Wit's like a Luxurian[t] Vine;
Unless to Virtue's prop it joyn,
Firm and Erect towards Heaven bound;
Though it with beauteous Leaves and pleasant Fruit be crown'd,
It lies deform'd, and rotting on the Ground.
Now Shame and Blushes on us all,
Who our own Sex Superior call!
Orinda does our boasting Sex out-do,
Not in Wit only, but in Virtue too.
She does above our best Examples rise,
In Hate of Vice, and scorn of Vanities.
Never did spirit of the Manly make,
And dipt all o're in Learnings Sacred Lake,
A temper more Invulnerable take.
No violent Passion could an entrance find,
Into the tender Goodness of her Mind
Through walls of Stone those furious Bullets may
Force their impetuous way
When her soft Brest they hit, powerless and dead they lay.

5.

The Fame of Friendship which so long had told
Of three or four illustrious Names of old,
Till hoarse and weary with the tale she grew
Rejoyces now t' have got a new,
A new, and more surprizing story,
Of fair Leucasias and Orindas Glory.
As when a prudent Man does once perceive
That in some Forrain Countrey he must live,
The Language and the Manners he does strive
To understand and practise here,
That he may come, no stranger there
So well Orinda did her self prepare
In this much different Clime for her remove
To the glad World of Poetry and Love.

444

Hymn. To light.

1

First born of Chaos, who so fair didst come
From the old Negro's darksome womb!
Which when it saw the lovely Child,
The melancholly Mass put on kind looks and smil'd,

2

Thou Tide of Glory which no Rest dost know,
But ever Ebb, and ever Flow!
Thou Golden shower of a true Jove!
Who does in thee descend, and Heav'n to Earth make Love!

3

Hail active Natures watchful Life and Health!
Her Joy, her Ornament, and Wealth!
Hail to thy Husband Heat, and Thee!
Thou the worlds beauteous Bride, the lusty Bridegroom He!

4

Say from what Golden Quivers of the Sky,
Do all thy winged Arrows fly?
Swiftness and Power by Birth are thine:
From thy Great Sire they came, thy Sire the word Divine.

5

'Tis, I believe, this Archery to show,
That so much cost in Colours thou,
And skill in Painting dost bestow,
Upon thy ancient Arms, the Gawdy Heav'nly Bow.

6

Swift as light Thoughts their empty Carriere run,
Thy Race is finisht, when begun,
Let a Post-Angel start with Thee,
And Thou the Goal of Earth shalt reach as soon as He:

445

7

Thou in the Moons bright Chariot proud and gay,
Dost thy bright wood of Stars survay;
And all the year dost with thee bring
Of thousand flowry Lights thine own Nocturnal Spring.

8

Thou Scythian-like dost round thy Lands above
The Suns gilt Tent for ever move,
And still as thou in pomp dost go
The shining Pageants of the World attend thy show.

9

Nor amidst all these Triumphs dost thou scorn
The humble Glow-worms to adorn,
And with those living spangles gild,
(O Greatness without Pride!) the Bushes of the Field.

10

Night, and her ugly Subjects thou dost fright,
And sleep, the lazy Owl of Night;
Asham'd and fearful to appear
They skreen their horrid shapes with the black Hemisphere.

11

With 'em there hasts, and wildly takes the Alarm,
Of painted Dreams, a busie swarm,
At the first opening of thine eye,
The various Clusters break, the antick Atomes fly.

12

The guilty Serpents, and obscener Beasts
Creep conscious to their secret rests:
Nature to thee does reverence pay,
Ill Omens, and ill Sights removes out of thy way.

13

At thy appearance, Grief it self is said,
To shake his Wings, and rowse his Head.
And cloudy care has often took
A gentle beamy Smile reflected from thy Look.

446

14

At thy appearance, Fear it self grows bold;
Thy Sun-shine melts away his Cold.
Encourag'd at the sight of Thee,
To the cheek Colour comes, and firmness to the knee.

15

Even Lust the Master of a hardned Face,
Blushes if thou beest in the place,
To darkness' Curtains he retires,
In Sympathizing Night he rowls his smoaky Fires.

16

When, Goddess, thou liftst up thy wakened Head,
Out of the Mornings purple bed,
Thy Quire of Birds about thee play,
And all the joyful world salutes the rising day.

17

The Ghosts, and Monster Spirits, that did presume
A Bodies Priv'lege to assume,
Vanish again invisibly,
And Bodies gain agen their visibility.

18

All the Worlds bravery that delights our Eyes
Is but thy sev'ral Liveries,
Thou the Rich Dy on them bestowest,
Thy nimble Pencil Paints this Landskape as thou go'st.

19

A Crimson Garment in the Rose thou wear'st;
A Crown of studded Gold thou bear'st,
The Virgin Lillies in their White,
Are clad but with the Lawn of almost Naked Light.

20

The Violet, springs little Infant, stands,
Girt in thy purple Swadling-bands:
On the fair Tulip thou dost dote;
Thou cloath'st it in a gay and party-colour'd Coat.

447

21

With Flame condenst thou dost the Jewels fix,
And solid Colours in it mix:
Flora her self envyes to see
Flowers fairer then her own, and durable as she.

22

Ah, Goddess! would thou could'st thy hand withhold,
And be less Liberall to Gold;
Didst thou less value to it give,
Of how much care (alas) might'st thou poor Man relieve!

23

To me the Sun is more delightful farr,
And all fair Dayes much fairer are.
But few, ah wondrous few there be,
Who do not Gold preferr, O Goddess, ev'n to Thee.

24

Through the soft wayes of Heaven, and Air, and Sea,
Which open all their Pores to Thee;
Like a cleer River thou dost glide,
And with thy Living Stream through the close Channels slide.

25

But where firm Bodies thy free course oppose,
Gently thy source the Land oreflowes;
Takes there possession, and does make,
Of Colours mingled, Light, a thick and standing Lake.

26

But the vast Ocean of unbounded Day
In th' Empyræan Heaven does stay.
Thy Rivers, Lakes, and Springs below
From thence took first their Rise, thither at last must Flow.

448

To the Royal Society.

1.

Philosophy the great and only Heir
Of all that Human Knowledge which has bin
Unforfeited by Mans rebellious Sin,
Though full of years He do appear,
(Philosophy, I say, and call it, He,
For whatso'ere the Painters Fancy be,
It a Male-virtue seemes to me)
Has still been kept in Nonage till of late,
Nor manag'd or enjoy'd his vast Estate:
Three or four thousand years one would have thought,
To ripeness and perfection might have brought
A Science so well bred and nurst,
And of such hopeful parts too at the first.
But, oh, the Guardians and the Tutors then,
(Some negligent, and some ambitious men)
Would ne're consent to set him Free,
Or his own Natural Powers to let him see,
Lest that should put an end to their Autoritie.

2.

That his own business he might quite forget,
They' amus'd him with the sports of wanton Wit,
With the Desserts of Poetry they fed him,
In stead of solid meats t' encrease his force;
In stead of vigorous exercise they led him
Into the pleasant Labyrinths of ever-fresh Discourse:
In stead of carrying him to see
The Riches which doe hoorded for him lie
In Natures endless Treasurie,
They chose his Eye to entertain
(His curious but not covetous Eye)
With painted Scenes, and Pageants of the Brain.
Some few exalted Spirits this latter Age has shown,
That labour'd to assert the Liberty
(From Guardians, who were now Usurpers grown)
Of this old Minor still, Captiv'd Philosophy;

449

But 'twas Rebellion call'd to fight
For such a long-oppressed Right.
Bacon at last, a mighty Man, arose
Whom a wise King and Nature chose
Lord Chancellour of both their Lawes,
And boldly undertook the injur'd Pupils cause.

3.

Autority, which did a Body boast,
Though 'twas but Air condens'd, and stalk'd about,
Like some old Giants more Gigantic Ghost,
To terrifie the Learned Rout
With the plain Magick of true Reasons Light,
He chac'd out of our sight,
Nor suffer'd Living Men to be misled
By the vain shadows of the Dead:
To Graves, from whence it rose, the conquer'd Phantome fled;
He broke that Monstrous God which stood
In midst of th' Orchard, and the whole did claim,
Which with a useless Sith of Wood,
And something else not worth a name,
(Both vast for shew, yet neither fit
Or to Defend, or to Beget;
Ridiculous and senceless Terrors!) made
Children and superstitious Men afraid.
The Orchard's open now, and free;
Bacon has broke that Scar-crow Deitie;
Come, enter, all that will,
Behold the rip'ned Fruit, come gather now your Fill.
Yet still, methinks, we fain would be
Catching at the Forbidden Tree,
We would be like the Deitie,
When Truth and Falshood, Good and Evil, we
Without the Sences aid within our selves would see;
For 'tis God only who can find
All Nature in his Mind.

4.

From Words, which are but Pictures of the Thought,
Though we our Thoughts from them perversly drew)

450

To things, the Minds right Object, he it brought,
Like foolish Birds to painted Grapes we flew;
He sought and gather'd for our use the True;
And when on heaps the chosen Bunches lay,
He prest them wisely the Mechanick way,
Till all their juyce did in one Vessel joyn,
Ferment into a Nourishment Divine,
The thirsty Souls refreshing Wine.
Who to the life an exact Piece would make,
Must not from others Work a Copy take;
No, not from Rubens or Vandike;
Much less content himself to make it like
Th' Idæas and the Images which lie
In his own Fancy, or his Memory.
No, he before his sight must place
The Natural and Living Face;
The real object must command
Each Judgment of his Eye, and Motion of his Hand.

5.

From these and all long Errors of the way,
In which our wandring Prædecessors went,
And like th' old Hebrews many years did stray
In Desarts but of small extent,
Bacon, like Moses, led us forth at last,
The barren Wilderness he past,
Did on the very Border stand
Of the blest promis'd Land,
And from the Mountains Top of his Exalted Wit,
Saw it himself, and shew'd us it.
But Life did never to one Man allow
Time to Discover Worlds, and Conquer too;
Nor can so short a Line sufficient be
To fadome the vast depths of Natures Sea:
The work he did we ought t' admire,
And were unjust if we should more require
From his few years, divided 'twixt th' Excess
Of low Affliction, and high Happiness.
For who on things remote can fix his sight,
That's alwayes in a Triumph, or a Fight?

451

6.

From you, great Champions, we expect to get
These spacious Countries but discover'd yet;
Countries where yet in stead of Nature, we
Her Images and Idols worship'd see:
These large and wealthy Regions to subdue,
Though Learning has whole Armies at command,
Quarter'd about in every Land,
A better Troop she ne're together drew.
Methinks, like Gideon's little Band,
God with Design has pickt out you,
To do these noble Wonders by a Few:
When the whole Host he saw, They are (said he)
Too many to O'rcome for Me;
And now he chuses out his Men,
Much in the way that he did then:
Not those many whom he found
Idely extended on the ground,
To drink with their dejected head
The Stream just so as by their Mouths it fled:
No, but those Few who took the waters up,
And made of their laborious Hands the Cup.

7.

Thus you prepar'd; and in the glorious Fight
Their wondrous pattern too you take:
Their old and empty Pitchers first they brake,
And with their Hands then lifted up the Light.
Io! Sound too the Trumpets here!
Already your victorious Lights appear;
New Scenes of Heaven already we espy,
And Crowds of golden Worlds on high;
Which from the spacious Plains of Earth and Sea;
Could never yet discover'd be
By Sailers or Chaldæans watchful Eye.
Natures great Workes no distance can obscure,
No smalness her near Objects can secure
Y' have taught the curious Sight to press
Into the privatest recess
Of her imperceptible Littleness.

452

Y' have learn'd to Read her smallest Hand,
And well begun her deepest Sense to Understand.

8.

Mischief and true Dishonour fall on those
Who would to laughter or to scorn expose
So Virtuous and so Noble a Design,
So Human for its Use, for Knowledge so Divine.
The things which these proud men despise, and call
Impertinent, and vain, and small,
Those smallest things of Nature let me know,
Rather than all their greatest Actions Doe.
Whoever would Deposed Truth advance
Into the Throne usurp'd from it,
Must feel at first the Blows of Ignorance,
And the sharp Points of Envious Wit.
So when by various turns of the Celestial Dance,
In many thousand years
A Star, so long unknown, appears,
Though Heaven it self more beauteous by it grow,
It troubles and alarms the World below,
Does to the Wise a Star, to Fools a Meteor show.

9.

With Courage and Success you the bold work begin;
Your Cradle has not Idle bin:
None e're but Hercules and you could be
At five years Age worthy a History.
And ne're did Fortune better yet
Th' Historian to the Story fit:
As you from all Old Errors free
And purge the Body of Philosophy;
So from all Modern Folies He
Has vindicated Eloquence and Wit.
His candid Stile like a clean Stream does slide,
And his bright Fancy all the way
Does like the Sun-shine in it play;
It does like Thames, the best of Rivers, glide,
Where the God does not rudely overturn,
But gently pour the Crystal Urn,

453

And with judicious hand does the whole Current Guide.
T' has all the Beauties Nature can impart,
And all the comely Dress without the paint of Art.

Upon the Chair made out of Sir Francis Drakes ship, Presented to the University Library in Oxford, by John Davis of Deptford, Esquire.

To this great Ship which round the Globe has run,
And matcht in Race the Chariot of the Sun,
This Pythagorean Ship (for it may claim
Without presumption so deserv'd a Name,
By knowledge once and transformation now)
In her New Shape this sacred Port allow.
Drake and his Ship could not have wish'd from Fate,
A more blest Station, or more blest Estate.
For (Lo!) a Seat of endless Rest is given,
To her in Oxford, and to him in Heaven.