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University of Virginia Library

Men-Miracles

With other Poemes. By M. LL. St [i.e.Martin Lluelyn]

Lluelyn, Martin (1616-1682)

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To my Ingenious Freind Captaine LL.

To the Author on his Poems.

To the Author on his Poems.

A CVRSE TO VULCAN,

The Life and Death of Jacke the Nimble, cheife saddle Nagge to Doctor S. C. of C.

Enter Maurice Dancer.

Enter the Country Fidler.

Enter the Taberer.

Enter the Bag-piper.

Enter the Harper.

Epilogue. The Witney Prayer.

Master W. H. his Song to his Wife at Windsor.

The Spy of the Buttery,

[Yet for aule her hast]

Verses made in Bed to one studying in the same Chamber.

Epithalium. To Mistris M. A.

Song against Ale.

Ralph's speciall Care,

Irish-love Song.

To my Lord B. of Ch. when I presented him a Play.

To Dr. F. Deane of Ch. Ch. now Vicechancellour of Oxford, upon the Same occasion.

To my Lord C. An. 1640.

To my freind Mr J. F. at Leyden.

To the same, being his Valentine.

On the Author of Love Melancholy. Second Edition.

To my Lord B. of S. he being at Yorke.

To my Lord B. of S. on New-yeares Day, 1643.

To Mistris D. C.

A SATYR, OCCASIONED BY The Author's Survey of a Scandalous Pamphlet Intituled, The Kings Cabinet Opened.

Elegie. On the Death of Sir Henry Spelman.

Elegie On the Death of Sir Bevile Grenvile.

Elegie. On C. W. H. slaine at Newarke.

Elegie. On the death of Sir John Smith Standard Bearer to His Majesty.

Elegie. On the death of Sir Horatio Vere.

Elegie. On the Death of Master R. B. Student of Ch. Ch.

Elegie. On the death of Master H. C.

Epitaph on the same.

Epitaph on—borne tenne Weekes before his Time, died at three Quarters.

Elegie. On the death of Master W. Cartwright.

AN ELEGIE ON THE MOST REVEREND FATHER in God Wiillam, Lord Arch-Bishop of Canterbury,

Elegie: On the death of Mistris Chaworth.

Epitaph. On Mistris R.

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To the same, being his Valentine.

Madam,

I should not chide my paine, nor torments rue,
Had they allow'd my Pen addresse to you.
But my distemper now must weare this brand,
The wound which op'd my Arme, still shut my hand.
Lame Offerings still enrage, where they would please,
Th'are Adoration halfe, and halfe Disease.
Then fitter 'twas to let my Homage fall,
Then date that service from some Hospitall.
Now, though I not converse with Salves, nor feele
My old acquaintance with the Launce and steele:
Though each wound weare the face of safety in't,
And all my Linnen is no longer Lint.
Yet these are empty Triumphs, and all this
Speakes but the Proeme to a fairer blisse.
I weare your name, first worne in my firme mind,
Here chance had Eyes, and fortune was not blind.
Long safety waites me now, and a health sure,
Your name was still my glory, now my Cure.