Resolves: Divine, Moral, Political The Eighth Impression. With New and several other Additions Both in Prose and Verse Not Extant in the former Impressions. By Owen Felltham |
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| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
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| XL. |
| XLI. |
 | Resolves: Divine, Moral, Political |  |
The Face of the Book, Unmasked.
Here, th' Universe in Natures Frame,
Sustain'd by Truth, and Wisdomes hand,
Does, by Opinions empty Name,
And Ignorance, distracted stand:
Who with strong Cords of vanity, conspire,
Tangling the Totall, with abstruse Desire.
Sustain'd by Truth, and Wisdomes hand,
Does, by Opinions empty Name,
And Ignorance, distracted stand:
Who with strong Cords of vanity, conspire,
Tangling the Totall, with abstruse Desire.
But then the Noble Heart infir'd,
With Rayes, divinely from above,
Mounts (though with wings moist and bemir'd.)
The great Gods glorious Light to prove,
Slighting the World: yet self renouncing, tries,
That where God draws not, there she sinks, and dies.
With Rayes, divinely from above,
Mounts (though with wings moist and bemir'd.)
The great Gods glorious Light to prove,
Slighting the World: yet self renouncing, tries,
That where God draws not, there she sinks, and dies.
1
LUSORIA:
OR Occasional Pieces. WITH A TASTE OF Some Letters.
Most Humbly These
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
My most Honored Lady, the Lady
MARY
Countess Dowager of THOMOND.
3
I. True Happinesse.
1
Long have I sought the wish of allTo find: and what it is men call
True Happiness; but cannot see
The world has it, which it can be.
Or with it Hold a sympathy.
2
He that enjoyes, what here belowFrail Elements have to bestow,
Shall find most sweet, bare hopes at first;
Fruition, by fruition 's burst:
Sea-water so allayes your thirst.
3
Whos'ever would be happy then,Must be so to himself: For when
Judges are taken from without,
To judge what we (fenc'd close about)
Are: they judge not, but guesse and doubt.
4
He must have reason store, to spyNatures hid wayes, to satisfie
His judgment. So he may be safe
From the vain fret: For fools will chafe
At that, which makes a wise man laugh.
5
If 'bove the mean his mind be pitcht,Or with unruly Passions twicht,
A storm is there: But he sails most
Secure, whose Bark in any Coast
Can neither be becalm'd nor tost.
4
6
A chearful, but an upright heartIs musick wheresoe're thou art:
And where God pleaseth to confer it,
Man can no greater good inherit,
Than is a clear and temperate spirit.
7
Wealth to keep want away, and FearOf it: Not more: some Friends, still near,
And chosen well: nor must he misse
A Calling: yet, some such as is
Imployment; not a Businesse.
8
His soul must hug no private sin,For that's a thorne hid by the skin.
But Innocence, where she is nurs'd,
Plants valiant Peace. So Cato durst
Be God-like good, when Rome was worst.
9
God built he must be in his mind;That is, part God: whose faith no wind
Can shake. When boldly he relies
On one so noble; he out-flies
Low chance, and fate of Destinies.
10
Life as a middle way, immur'dWith Joy and Grief, to be indur'd,
Not spurn'd, nor wanton'd hence, he knows.
In crooked banks, a spring so flows
O're stone, mud, weeds: yet still cleer goes.
11
And as springs rest not, till they leadMeandring high, as their first head:
So souls rest not, till man has trod
Deaths height. Then by that period,
They rest too, rais'd as high as God.
12
Summe all! he happiest is, that canIn this worlds Jarr be Honest Man.
For since Perfection is so high,
Beyond lifes reach, he that would try
True happinesse indeed, must dye.
5
II. To the Lady D.S.
MADAM,
I Would but praise, not flatter: yet
What flatters others, does your praise but fit.
I would have shun'd all Verse too: but I knew
He must write measure, that would write of You.
So Geometrical has Nature fram'd
That, which can now no otherwise be nam'd,
But as a Rule for all: each several part
Is all whole Axiome, to direct an Art.
That now, men skilful, doubt, to which is due,
More to those noble Sciences, or You.
What flatters others, does your praise but fit.
I would have shun'd all Verse too: but I knew
He must write measure, that would write of You.
So Geometrical has Nature fram'd
That, which can now no otherwise be nam'd,
But as a Rule for all: each several part
Is all whole Axiome, to direct an Art.
That now, men skilful, doubt, to which is due,
More to those noble Sciences, or You.
And thus I was created! for who can
Lie earth'd i'th' dull thoughts of a common man,
When you shall shine; and with your symetry
Shew like the springs new Genius; while your eye
Kindles each noble bloud with such chaste fire,
As causes Flame, and yet forbids Desire?
And when your skye of vein shall gently flow,
Branching through both your Hemispheres of snow,
When crimson Tulips, and the Rose o'th' bush,
Shall draw their tincture from your lip, and blush;
When that mild breath, which even the calmest West
Fannes from the Pink and Violet, from your brest
Shall have its derivation; then you may
Confesse your self, our Morning and our Day.
And these might make you glorious: yet I dare
(Madam) tell you, that these but fading are,
Must bed i'th' shade, and cease: and that I tell
This, shews there's something that doth more excell,
Remaining in you: else the name Decay
I know would fright a Lady into clay.
And but to hear, she must be old and dye,
Would make her weep till she had ne're an eye.
But that which makes me daring thus, I find
Is that pure shine of Deity, your Mind,
So fill'd with sweetnesse, that whosoe're shall see't,
Streight thinks of Virgin Nature, at whose feet
Stand all the Sects of old Philosophy,
Paying their admiration by their eye.
So you amaze all knowledge, that even they
Which can but name and know you, do adde day
Unto their owne Life here. To prove this, I
Shall find this honour crowne my memory,
By writing but of You, the world shall see,
I am the first drew truth to Poetry.
Lie earth'd i'th' dull thoughts of a common man,
When you shall shine; and with your symetry
Shew like the springs new Genius; while your eye
Kindles each noble bloud with such chaste fire,
As causes Flame, and yet forbids Desire?
And when your skye of vein shall gently flow,
Branching through both your Hemispheres of snow,
When crimson Tulips, and the Rose o'th' bush,
Shall draw their tincture from your lip, and blush;
When that mild breath, which even the calmest West
Fannes from the Pink and Violet, from your brest
Shall have its derivation; then you may
Confesse your self, our Morning and our Day.
And these might make you glorious: yet I dare
(Madam) tell you, that these but fading are,
Must bed i'th' shade, and cease: and that I tell
This, shews there's something that doth more excell,
Remaining in you: else the name Decay
I know would fright a Lady into clay.
And but to hear, she must be old and dye,
Would make her weep till she had ne're an eye.
But that which makes me daring thus, I find
Is that pure shine of Deity, your Mind,
So fill'd with sweetnesse, that whosoe're shall see't,
Streight thinks of Virgin Nature, at whose feet
Stand all the Sects of old Philosophy,
Paying their admiration by their eye.
So you amaze all knowledge, that even they
Which can but name and know you, do adde day
6
Shall find this honour crowne my memory,
By writing but of You, the world shall see,
I am the first drew truth to Poetry.
III. The Sun and Wind.
Why think'st thou (fool) thy Beauties rayes,
Should flame my colder heart;
When thy disdain shall several wayes,
Such piercing blasts impart?
Should flame my colder heart;
When thy disdain shall several wayes,
Such piercing blasts impart?
Seest not those beams that guild the day,
Though they be hot and fierce,
Yet have nor heat nor power to stay,
When winds their strength disperse.
Though they be hot and fierce,
Yet have nor heat nor power to stay,
When winds their strength disperse.
So though thy Sun heats my desire,
Yet know thy coy disdain
Falls like a storm on that young fire,
So blowes me cool again.
Yet know thy coy disdain
Falls like a storm on that young fire,
So blowes me cool again.
IV. On the Duke of Buckingham slain by Felton, the 23. Aug. 1628.
Sooner I may some fixed Statue be,
Than prove forgetful of thy death or thee!
Canst thou be gone so quickly? Can a knife
Let out so many Titles and a life?
Than prove forgetful of thy death or thee!
Canst thou be gone so quickly? Can a knife
Let out so many Titles and a life?
Now I'le mourn thee! On that so huge a pile
Of State should pash thus in so small a while!
Let the rude Genius of the giddy Train,
Brag in a fury that they have stabb'd Spain,
Austria, and the skipping French: yea, all
Those home-bred Papists that would sell our fall:
Th'Eclipse of two wise Princes judgments: more,
The wast, whereby our Land was still kept poor.
I'le pity yet, at least thy fatal end,
Shot like a Lightning from a violent hand,
Taking thee hence unsumm'd. Thou art to me
The great Example of Mortality.
And when the times to come shall want a Name
To startle Greatnesse, here is Buckingham
Faln like a Meteor: and 'tis hard to say
Whether it was that went the stranger way,
Thou or the hand that slew thee: thy Estate
Was high, and he was resolute above that.
Yet since I hold of none ingag'd to thee,
Death and that liberty shall make me free.
Thy mists I knew not: if thou hadst a fault,
My charity shall leave it in the Vault,
There for thine own accounting: 'Tis undue
To speak ill of the Dead though it be true.
And this even those that envy'd thee confesse,
Thou hadst a Mind, a flowing Noblenesse,
A Fortune, Friends, and such proportion,
As call for sorrow, to be thus undone.
Of State should pash thus in so small a while!
Let the rude Genius of the giddy Train,
Brag in a fury that they have stabb'd Spain,
Austria, and the skipping French: yea, all
Those home-bred Papists that would sell our fall:
Th'Eclipse of two wise Princes judgments: more,
The wast, whereby our Land was still kept poor.
I'le pity yet, at least thy fatal end,
Shot like a Lightning from a violent hand,
Taking thee hence unsumm'd. Thou art to me
The great Example of Mortality.
7
To startle Greatnesse, here is Buckingham
Faln like a Meteor: and 'tis hard to say
Whether it was that went the stranger way,
Thou or the hand that slew thee: thy Estate
Was high, and he was resolute above that.
Yet since I hold of none ingag'd to thee,
Death and that liberty shall make me free.
Thy mists I knew not: if thou hadst a fault,
My charity shall leave it in the Vault,
There for thine own accounting: 'Tis undue
To speak ill of the Dead though it be true.
And this even those that envy'd thee confesse,
Thou hadst a Mind, a flowing Noblenesse,
A Fortune, Friends, and such proportion,
As call for sorrow, to be thus undone.
Yet should I speak the Vulgar, I should boast
Thy bold Assassinate, and wish almost
He were no Christian, that I up might stand,
To praise th'intent of his mis-guided hand.
And sure when all the Patriots in the shade
Shall rank, and their full musters there be made,
He shall sit next to Brutus, and receive
Such Bayes as Heath'nish ignorance can give.
But then the Christian (poising that) shall say,
Though he did good, he did it the wrong way.
They oft decline into the worst of ill,
That act the Peoples wish without Laws will.
Thy bold Assassinate, and wish almost
He were no Christian, that I up might stand,
To praise th'intent of his mis-guided hand.
And sure when all the Patriots in the shade
Shall rank, and their full musters there be made,
He shall sit next to Brutus, and receive
Such Bayes as Heath'nish ignorance can give.
But then the Christian (poising that) shall say,
Though he did good, he did it the wrong way.
They oft decline into the worst of ill,
That act the Peoples wish without Laws will.
V. The Appeal.
Tyrant
Cupid! I'le appeale
From thee, to all the publick weale
Of gods in Parliament.
They all shall know thy mock,
How thou madest me love a rock,
That knew not to relent.
From thee, to all the publick weale
Of gods in Parliament.
They all shall know thy mock,
How thou madest me love a rock,
That knew not to relent.
Didst thou not by thy art,
Make me give her an heart,
That had none of her own?
So she to please thy pride,
By me must be supply'd,
And I must live with none.
Make me give her an heart,
That had none of her own?
So she to please thy pride,
By me must be supply'd,
And I must live with none.
8
Nay, when I serious was,
To beg but one poor grace,
I could not that obtain:
While he that lesse did love,
When he no suit did move,
Did two unasked gain.
To beg but one poor grace,
I could not that obtain:
While he that lesse did love,
When he no suit did move,
Did two unasked gain.
Judge all you gods if these
Be not deep injuries:
Then if you quit this Elf,
Set me again but free,
And all the world shall see,
I'le whip the boy my self.
Be not deep injuries:
Then if you quit this Elf,
Set me again but free,
And all the world shall see,
I'le whip the boy my self.
VI. Elegie on Henry Earl of Oxford.
When thou didst live and shine, thy Name was then
Like a Prometheus giving fire to men.
Now thy brave Soul advanced is and free,
But to write Oxford is an Elegie
Sad as the grave thou ly'st in, whence if we
Could raise thy worth, we better might spare thee.
But That and Thou are lost, and we have none
To keep us now, for our Palladium's gone;
Gone as a Pearl dropt in the Main; to get
Which we may sink, but not recover it.
Like a Prometheus giving fire to men.
Now thy brave Soul advanced is and free,
But to write Oxford is an Elegie
Sad as the grave thou ly'st in, whence if we
Could raise thy worth, we better might spare thee.
But That and Thou are lost, and we have none
To keep us now, for our Palladium's gone;
Gone as a Pearl dropt in the Main; to get
Which we may sink, but not recover it.
Why wert thou gone so soon? dull Holland why
Must thou find war, and we send men to dye?
But oh! thou gain'st by't, having none but ill,
And such as scarce are good enough to kill
That are thy own. Th'hast offered him to Fate,
Whose every Limb was worth more than thy State.
I know the gods are pleas'd with't, but 'tis we
That feel the losse, not they, nor you, nor he.
Heaven joyes in his accesse, and he in that:
And you thought so much good might expiate
Your blackest sins: not thinking we should be,
Like low Orbes wanting Primum Mobile.
Must thou find war, and we send men to dye?
But oh! thou gain'st by't, having none but ill,
And such as scarce are good enough to kill
That are thy own. Th'hast offered him to Fate,
Whose every Limb was worth more than thy State.
I know the gods are pleas'd with't, but 'tis we
That feel the losse, not they, nor you, nor he.
Heaven joyes in his accesse, and he in that:
And you thought so much good might expiate
Your blackest sins: not thinking we should be,
Like low Orbes wanting Primum Mobile.
But 'twas thy gain: as when Perfumes are spil'd,
The Air is mixt, and with their odor fill'd:
So where his breath expir'd, the Earth and Air
Are Antidotes 'gainst Cowardice and fear.
Thus 'twas when Sydney dy'd: and 'tis from hence
Thy Clime has had such noble spirits since.
Great Vertues have this Grant, they never dye,
But like Time live to kisse Eternity.
And now men doubt which Name can cite a tear,
Or make a Souldier first, Sidney or Vere.
The Air is mixt, and with their odor fill'd:
So where his breath expir'd, the Earth and Air
Are Antidotes 'gainst Cowardice and fear.
Thus 'twas when Sydney dy'd: and 'tis from hence
Thy Clime has had such noble spirits since.
9
But like Time live to kisse Eternity.
And now men doubt which Name can cite a tear,
Or make a Souldier first, Sidney or Vere.
Yet in this last that dy'd, I'le tell thee how
Thou hast deceiv'd thy self: Know in him thou
Hast slain a Tutelar god; and to prove this,
Think but the time when Breda swallowed is.
Oh since he dy'd with thee, why were't not sworn
To save his bloud in some memorial Urne,
To which men should have come for Valour, just
As sick men to the Spa for health, in trust
There to have been supply'd: But now that he
And that is lost, for thee and thine hear me;
Let not the place be known, lest when men see
His worth, and come to know he dy'd for thee,
They curse thee lower than thy staple, Fish;
Thy own Beer-drinkers, or the Spaniards wish.
But if by curious search it must be known,
Write by it thus, Here Belgia was undone.
Thou hast deceiv'd thy self: Know in him thou
Hast slain a Tutelar god; and to prove this,
Think but the time when Breda swallowed is.
Oh since he dy'd with thee, why were't not sworn
To save his bloud in some memorial Urne,
To which men should have come for Valour, just
As sick men to the Spa for health, in trust
There to have been supply'd: But now that he
And that is lost, for thee and thine hear me;
Let not the place be known, lest when men see
His worth, and come to know he dy'd for thee,
They curse thee lower than thy staple, Fish;
Thy own Beer-drinkers, or the Spaniards wish.
But if by curious search it must be known,
Write by it thus, Here Belgia was undone.
VII. On a Jewel given at parting.
When cruel time enforced me
Subscribe to a dividing,
A Heart all Faith and Loyalty
I left you freshly bleeding.
Subscribe to a dividing,
A Heart all Faith and Loyalty
I left you freshly bleeding.
You in requital gave a stone,
Not easie to be broken;
An Embleme sure that of your own
Hearts hardnesse was a token.
Not easie to be broken;
An Embleme sure that of your own
Hearts hardnesse was a token.
O Fate, what Justice is in this,
That I a heart must tender:
And you so cold in courtesies,
As but a stone to render.
That I a heart must tender:
And you so cold in courtesies,
As but a stone to render.
Either your stone turn to a heart,
That love may find requiting:
Or else my heart to stone convert,
That may not feel your slighting.
That love may find requiting:
Or else my heart to stone convert,
That may not feel your slighting.
10
IX. The Cause.
Think not, Clarissa, I love thee
For thy meer outside, though it be
A Heaven more clear than that men cloudless see.
For thy meer outside, though it be
A Heaven more clear than that men cloudless see.
Thine Eyes so pure and Chrystalline,
Once dead are worth no more than mine,
Nor can do greater wonders with their shine.
Once dead are worth no more than mine,
Nor can do greater wonders with their shine.
No 'tis thy soul, we may mix there,
Like two Perfumes in the soft air,
And as chast Incense play above the sphere.
Like two Perfumes in the soft air,
And as chast Incense play above the sphere.
So shall we on in progresse move
To clearer heights, and by this love
Grow still Ascentive till we centre Jove.
To clearer heights, and by this love
Grow still Ascentive till we centre Jove.
11
There shall men gaze our blest aboad,
And scarce mistaking voice't abroad,
That two souls purely mingled make a God.
And scarce mistaking voice't abroad,
That two souls purely mingled make a God.
For when two souls shall towre so high,
Without their flesh their rayes shall flye,
Like Emanations from a Deity.
Without their flesh their rayes shall flye,
Like Emanations from a Deity.
X. The Vow-breach.
When thy bold eye shall enter here, and seeNought but the Ebon'd night incurtain me.
Curse not a womans lightnesse: Onely say,
Here it lies veiled from eternal day.
This will be charity: but if thou then
Call back remembrance with her light agen,
Know thou art cruel: For those rayes to me
(Like flashes wherewithall the Damned see
Their plagues) become another Hell. And thou
Shalt smart for this hereafter, as I now.
For my whole Sex, when they shall find their shame
Told in my Vow-breach by thy fatal name;
Their spleen shal all in one eye pointed be,
And then like Lightning darted all on thee.
XI. The Sympathy.
Soul of my soul! it cannot be,
That you should weep, and I from tears be free.
All the vast room between both Poles,
Can never dull the sense of souls,
Knit in so fast a knot.
Oh! can you grieve, and think that I
Can feel no smart, because not nigh,
Or that I know it not?
That you should weep, and I from tears be free.
All the vast room between both Poles,
Can never dull the sense of souls,
Knit in so fast a knot.
Oh! can you grieve, and think that I
Can feel no smart, because not nigh,
Or that I know it not?
Th'are heretick thoughts. Two Lutes are strung,
And on a Table tun'd alike for song;
Strike one, and that which none did touch,
Shall sympathizing sound as much.
As that which toucht you see.
Think then this world (which Heaven inroules)
Is but a Table round, and souls
More apprehensive be.
And on a Table tun'd alike for song;
Strike one, and that which none did touch,
Shall sympathizing sound as much.
12
Think then this world (which Heaven inroules)
Is but a Table round, and souls
More apprehensive be.
Know they that in their grossest parts,
Mix by their hallowed loves intwined hearts,
This privilege boast, that no remove
Can e're infringe their sense of love.
Judge hence then our estate,
Since when we lov'd there was not put
Two earthen hearts in one brest, but
Two souls Co-animate.
Mix by their hallowed loves intwined hearts,
This privilege boast, that no remove
Can e're infringe their sense of love.
Judge hence then our estate,
Since when we lov'd there was not put
Two earthen hearts in one brest, but
Two souls Co-animate.
XII. The Reconcilement.
Come now my fair one, let me love thee new,
Since thou art new created. For 'tis true
When souls distain'd by loose and wandring fears,
Once purge themselves by penitential tears,
They gain a second birth, and scorn to flye
At any mark but Noblest purity.
Then who can tell that e're there was offence,
Contrition does as much as Innocence.
Black lines in Tablets once expung'd, they are
Clear to each eye, and like their first age, fair.
When Colours are discharg'd, and after dy'd
Fresh by the Artist, can it then be spy'd
Where the soil was? So Convert Magdalen
Excell'd more after her Conversion, then
Before she had offended: slips that be
'Twixt friends from frailty, are but as you see
Sad absence to strong lovers; when they meet,
It makes their warm imbraces far more sweet.
Since thou art new created. For 'tis true
When souls distain'd by loose and wandring fears,
Once purge themselves by penitential tears,
They gain a second birth, and scorn to flye
At any mark but Noblest purity.
Then who can tell that e're there was offence,
Contrition does as much as Innocence.
Black lines in Tablets once expung'd, they are
Clear to each eye, and like their first age, fair.
When Colours are discharg'd, and after dy'd
Fresh by the Artist, can it then be spy'd
Where the soil was? So Convert Magdalen
Excell'd more after her Conversion, then
Before she had offended: slips that be
'Twixt friends from frailty, are but as you see
Sad absence to strong lovers; when they meet,
It makes their warm imbraces far more sweet.
Come then, and let us like two streams swell'd high,
Meet, and with soft and gentle struglings try,
How like their curling waves we mingle may,
Till both be made one floud; then who can say
Which this way flow'd, which that: For there will be
Still water; close united Extasie.
That when we next shall but of motion dream,
We both shall slide one way, both make one stream.
Meet, and with soft and gentle struglings try,
How like their curling waves we mingle may,
Till both be made one floud; then who can say
Which this way flow'd, which that: For there will be
Still water; close united Extasie.
That when we next shall but of motion dream,
We both shall slide one way, both make one stream.
13
XIII. A Farewell.
When by sad fate from hence I summon'd am,Call it not Absence, that's too mild a name.
Believe it, dearest Soul, I cannot part,
For who can live two Regions from his heart?
Unlesse as stars direct our humane sense,
I live by your more powerful influence.
No; say I am dissolv'd: for as a Cloud
By the Suns vigour melted is, and strow'd
On the Earths face, to be exhal'd again
To the same beams that turn'd it into rain.
So absent think me but as scatter'd dew,
Till re-exhal'd again to Vertue; You.
XIV. FUNEBRE VENETIANUM.
On the Lady Venetia Digby, found dead in her bed, leaning her head on her hand.
Rash Censure stay: nor he, nor she that's gone
Must be condemn'd: unless to Jove alone
Fate's folded up: So Lightnings subt'lest flame
Melts the cas'd steel, to which, which way it came
No piercing eye can see: As well we may
Trace yonder fish which way she swam at sea,
Find th'Arrows flight, or by dissection tell
Fancies that in that living brain did dwell.
Yet she is gone; gone as the Dove which last
Toss'd Noah sent from his op'd Arke to taste
Freedom at large; but never to return,
Till next a floud of fire the world shall burn.
So prisoned Peter, whom fierce Herod kept,
Th'Angel inlarges, while the dull Guard slept.
So while the body in a funeral flame
Crumbles to dust, from whence at first it came,
In a dark odour sadning brightest day,
Th'imagin'd soul, the Eagle, steals away.
Must be condemn'd: unless to Jove alone
Fate's folded up: So Lightnings subt'lest flame
Melts the cas'd steel, to which, which way it came
No piercing eye can see: As well we may
Trace yonder fish which way she swam at sea,
Find th'Arrows flight, or by dissection tell
Fancies that in that living brain did dwell.
Yet she is gone; gone as the Dove which last
Toss'd Noah sent from his op'd Arke to taste
Freedom at large; but never to return,
Till next a floud of fire the world shall burn.
So prisoned Peter, whom fierce Herod kept,
Th'Angel inlarges, while the dull Guard slept.
So while the body in a funeral flame
Crumbles to dust, from whence at first it came,
In a dark odour sadning brightest day,
Th'imagin'd soul, the Eagle, steals away.
Yet there are those, striving to salve their own
Deep want of skill, have in a fury thrown
Scandal on her, and say she wanted brain.
Botchers of Nature! your eternal stain
This judgment is. Can you believe that she
Whose great perfection was, that she was she,
That she who was all Charm, whose frail parts
Could captivate by troups even noblest hearts,
And from wise men, with flowing grace conquer
More than they had, untill they met with her?
Can you believe a Brain, the common tye
Of each flat Sex, could ever towre so high,
As to sway her, from whose aspect did passe
Life, death and happinesse to men? This was
So far beyond your bare no more than sense,
That you ne'r thought of that Intelligence
Which did move her. Yet you may come to rail
At the Celestial Orbes when theirs shall fail,
'Cause they should so stand still. And this was it
Which made death mannerly, and strive to fit
Himself with reverence to her; that now
He came not like a Tyrant, on whose brow
A pompous terrour hung; but in a strain
Lovely and calm, as is the June serain.
That now, who most abhor him can but say,
Gently he did imbrace her into clay:
And her, as Monument for time to come,
Left her own statue, perfect for her tomb.
As a rough Satyr, tam'd with love, espies
Where his dear Nymph sweetly reposed lies,
Softly doth steal a kisse, then shrinks away,
Lest he awake his souls soul: so we may
Think death did here: So the pale amorous Moon
On Latmos kiss'd sleeping Endymion
In Musick, wine and slumbers, so he try'd,
Courted and won her: That henceforth the Bride,
Fresh Youth, and Queens, shall in their bravest trim,
The Bridegroom-Sports and Scepters, leave for him.
This more shall follow, no Stagyrian brain
Shall ever call him terrible again;
Nor yet name Death, but when he shall come to't,
He shall but onely wink, and that shall do't.
Deep want of skill, have in a fury thrown
Scandal on her, and say she wanted brain.
Botchers of Nature! your eternal stain
14
Whose great perfection was, that she was she,
That she who was all Charm, whose frail parts
Could captivate by troups even noblest hearts,
And from wise men, with flowing grace conquer
More than they had, untill they met with her?
Can you believe a Brain, the common tye
Of each flat Sex, could ever towre so high,
As to sway her, from whose aspect did passe
Life, death and happinesse to men? This was
So far beyond your bare no more than sense,
That you ne'r thought of that Intelligence
Which did move her. Yet you may come to rail
At the Celestial Orbes when theirs shall fail,
'Cause they should so stand still. And this was it
Which made death mannerly, and strive to fit
Himself with reverence to her; that now
He came not like a Tyrant, on whose brow
A pompous terrour hung; but in a strain
Lovely and calm, as is the June serain.
That now, who most abhor him can but say,
Gently he did imbrace her into clay:
And her, as Monument for time to come,
Left her own statue, perfect for her tomb.
As a rough Satyr, tam'd with love, espies
Where his dear Nymph sweetly reposed lies,
Softly doth steal a kisse, then shrinks away,
Lest he awake his souls soul: so we may
Think death did here: So the pale amorous Moon
On Latmos kiss'd sleeping Endymion
In Musick, wine and slumbers, so he try'd,
Courted and won her: That henceforth the Bride,
Fresh Youth, and Queens, shall in their bravest trim,
The Bridegroom-Sports and Scepters, leave for him.
This more shall follow, no Stagyrian brain
Shall ever call him terrible again;
Nor yet name Death, but when he shall come to't,
He shall but onely wink, and that shall do't.
15
XV. An Epitaph on Robert Lord Spencer.
1.
Here much lamented lies four wonders: OneOld Hospitality, in this Age gone.
A Spencer! Free, lov'd for his bounteous mind,
2. He spent his means, yet kept it; Left behind
A state increas'd with honour. And the third
3. Was, in him dy'd a good man and a Lord.
4. The last, These lost, yet not the world undone;
Since all still hope them living in his Son.
XVI. The Spring in the Rock.
Harsh Maid! suppose not this clear Spring
Can boyl thus cold by Natures course.
No, 'tis a miracle, a thing
That may thy hard hearts melting force.
Know this cold Spring thou now dost see
Was like me once: The Rock like thee.
Can boyl thus cold by Natures course.
No, 'tis a miracle, a thing
That may thy hard hearts melting force.
Know this cold Spring thou now dost see
Was like me once: The Rock like thee.
This Spring was once a Lover true,
Turn'd all to Ice by coy disdain;
Till pitying gods his woes that knew,
Melted him thus to life again.
But love which alwayes racks the will,
Restless thus makes him bubble still.
Turn'd all to Ice by coy disdain;
Till pitying gods his woes that knew,
Melted him thus to life again.
But love which alwayes racks the will,
Restless thus makes him bubble still.
Nor did she scape the gods just doom,
She Rock was made and could not stir:
So he that living could no room
Obtain, by death now dwells in her.
Oh take heed then, repent and know
They that chang'd her can alter you.
She Rock was made and could not stir:
So he that living could no room
Obtain, by death now dwells in her.
Oh take heed then, repent and know
They that chang'd her can alter you.
XVII. The Amazement.
Fool, why dost wonder that thou art
A statue turn'd, as if a dart
Transpierc'd thy brest when thou dost her behold?
When yet before thou seest her face,
Thou dost believe with feeling grace,
Thou canst the story of thy Love unfold.
Alas, bold wits that great appear,
And can inchant each Vulgar ear,
Blush when their tale to Princes must be told.
A statue turn'd, as if a dart
Transpierc'd thy brest when thou dost her behold?
16
Thou dost believe with feeling grace,
Thou canst the story of thy Love unfold.
Alas, bold wits that great appear,
And can inchant each Vulgar ear,
Blush when their tale to Princes must be told.
See the Roses being blown,
Shed their leaves and fall alone,
As shamed by a purer red of hers.
See the Clowds that cast their snow,
Which melts as soon as 'tis below,
When but a whiter white of her appears.
See the Silk-worme how she weaves
Her self to death among her leaves,
As broke with envy of her finer hairs.
Shed their leaves and fall alone,
As shamed by a purer red of hers.
See the Clowds that cast their snow,
Which melts as soon as 'tis below,
When but a whiter white of her appears.
See the Silk-worme how she weaves
Her self to death among her leaves,
As broke with envy of her finer hairs.
See the Sun that guides the day,
Yet every Evening steals away,
And comes next morning blushing at his rise:
Nor is it for the sad mishap,
That he must leave his Thetis lap,
But that he is out-shin'd by her fair eyes.
If then the Creatures in their pride
Withdraw themselves, let wonder slide
Each high Aspect the Senses stupifies.
Yet every Evening steals away,
And comes next morning blushing at his rise:
Nor is it for the sad mishap,
That he must leave his Thetis lap,
But that he is out-shin'd by her fair eyes.
If then the Creatures in their pride
Withdraw themselves, let wonder slide
Each high Aspect the Senses stupifies.
XVIII. An Epitaph on the Lady Mary Farmor.
Chastely to live, one husband wed, he gone,Gravely to spend a Widowhood alone.
Full seventeen tedious years in memory
Of that dear worth which dy'd when he did dye:
To make life one long act of goodnesse, gain
More love than the worlds malice e're could stain,
Then calmly passe with sighs of every friend,
Were those brave wayes which her so much commend,
That 'tis no strong Line, but a Truth, to fix,
Here lies the best Example of her Sex.
17
XIX. On a hopeful Youth.
Stay Passenger, and lend a tear,Youth and Vertue both lye here.
Reading this know thou hast seen
Vertue tomb'd at but Fifteen.
And if after thou shalt see
Any young and good as he,
Think his vertues are reviving
For Examples of thy living.
Practise those and then thou maist
Fearlesse dye where now thou stay'st.
XX. An Answer to the Ode of Come leave the loathed Stage, &c.
Come leave this saucy way
Of baiting those that pay
Dear for the sight of your declining wit:
'Tis known it is not fit,
That a sale Poet, just contempt once thrown,
Should cry up thus his own.
I wonder by what Dowre
Or Patent you had power
From all to rap't a judgment. Let't suffice,
Had you been modest, y'had been granted wise.
Of baiting those that pay
Dear for the sight of your declining wit:
'Tis known it is not fit,
That a sale Poet, just contempt once thrown,
Should cry up thus his own.
I wonder by what Dowre
Or Patent you had power
From all to rap't a judgment. Let't suffice,
Had you been modest, y'had been granted wise.
'Tis known you can do well,
And that you do excell
As a Translator: But when things require
A genius and fire,
Not kindled heretofore by others pains;
As oft y'have wanted brains
And art to strike the White,
As you have levell'd right:
Yet if men vouch not things Apocryphal,
You bellow, rave and spatter round your gall.
And that you do excell
As a Translator: But when things require
A genius and fire,
Not kindled heretofore by others pains;
As oft y'have wanted brains
And art to strike the White,
As you have levell'd right:
Yet if men vouch not things Apocryphal,
You bellow, rave and spatter round your gall.
Jug, Pierce, Peck, Fly, and all
Your Jests so nominal,
Are things so far beneath an able Brain,
As they do throw a stain
Through all th'unlikely plot, and do displease
As deep as Pericles,
Where yet there is not laid
Before a Chamber-maid
Discourse so weigh'd, as might have serv'd of old
For Schools, when they of Love and Valour told.
Your Jests so nominal,
Are things so far beneath an able Brain,
As they do throw a stain
18
As deep as Pericles,
Where yet there is not laid
Before a Chamber-maid
Discourse so weigh'd, as might have serv'd of old
For Schools, when they of Love and Valour told.
Why Rage then? when the show
Should Judgment be and Know-
ledge, that there are in Plush who scorn to drudge,
For Stages yet can judge
Not onely Poets looser lives but wits,
And all their Perquisits.
A gift as rich as high
Is noble Poesie:
Yet though in sport it be for Kings a play,
'Tis next Mechanick when it works for pay.
Should Judgment be and Know-
ledge, that there are in Plush who scorn to drudge,
For Stages yet can judge
Not onely Poets looser lives but wits,
And all their Perquisits.
A gift as rich as high
Is noble Poesie:
Yet though in sport it be for Kings a play,
'Tis next Mechanick when it works for pay.
Alcæus Lute had none,
Nor loose Anacreon
E're taught so bold assuming of the Bayes,
When they deserv'd no praise.
To rail men into approbation
Is new is yours alone,
And prospers not: For know
Fame is as coy as you
Can be disdainful; and who dares to prove
A rape on her, shall gather scorn, not love.
Nor loose Anacreon
E're taught so bold assuming of the Bayes,
When they deserv'd no praise.
To rail men into approbation
Is new is yours alone,
And prospers not: For know
Fame is as coy as you
Can be disdainful; and who dares to prove
A rape on her, shall gather scorn, not love.
Leave then this humour vain,
And this more humorous strain,
Where self-conceit and choler of the bloud
Eclipse what else is good:
Then if you please those raptures high to touch,
Whereof you boast so much;
And but forbear your Crown
Till the world puts it on:
No doubt from all you may amazement draw,
Since braver Theme no Phœbus ever saw.
And this more humorous strain,
Where self-conceit and choler of the bloud
Eclipse what else is good:
Then if you please those raptures high to touch,
Whereof you boast so much;
And but forbear your Crown
Till the world puts it on:
No doubt from all you may amazement draw,
Since braver Theme no Phœbus ever saw.
19
XXI. To Phryne.
When thou thy youth shalt viewFum'd out, and hate thy glass for telling true,
When thy face shall be seen
Like to an Easter Apple gathered green:
When thy whole body shall
Be one foul wrinkle, lame and shrivell'd all,
So deep that men therein
May find a grave to bury shame and sin:
When no claspt youth shall be
Pouring thy bones into thy lap and thee:
When thy own wanton fires
Shall leave to bubble up thy loose desires:
Then wilt thou sighing lye,
Repent and smart, and so by two deaths dye.
XXII. To Mr. Dover on his Cotswold Games.
Summon'd by Fame (brave Dover) I can nowTell what it was old Poets meant to show
In the feign'd stories of their Pegasus,
Muses and Mount, which they have left to us.
Nor need we wonder such a flow of years
Should roul away, when yet no light appears.
Since Prophesies and Fates predictions
Come to be known, and are fulfill'd at once.
So Delphos spake, and in a mystick fold
Hid that, at once which acted was and told.
What then was typ'd by Pegasus, but that
Proud Troup of fiery Coursers, muster'd at
Thy Cotswold? where like rapid spheres they hurld
Strain for a salt, the seasoning of the world.
Then the sagacious Hound, at losses mute
Alone, shews Natures Logick in pursuit.
But at thy other meeting, he is blind
That cannot Muses and their musick find:
Shewing that pleasure would be cold and dye,
Without converse and noble harmony.
The Ladies Muses are, there may you chuse
A Patronesse, each Mistresse is a Muse.
20
Than when 'tis vigour'd from a Ladies eye.
Now to complete the story, I do see
How future times will learn to title thee
That Youth'd Apollo: So Mount Helicon
Will Cotswold prove, which shall be fam'd alone,
And sacred all unto thy happy Name,
That long shall dwell in the fair voice of Fame.
For great thou must be: and as first, have prize,
Or else, as th'Exit of old Prophesies.
XXIII. On Sir Rowland Cotton, famous for Letters and other Parts.
Is Cotton dead? Then we may live to seeWonder and Truth kisse in an Elegie:
Nor shall the chaffy Vulgar dare to laugh,
Finding no flattery in an Epitaph.
All that here Art could speak would credit have,
(Unlesse it be that he has found a Grave)
Not as Lav-Catholicks, which do conclude
Sins vertuous, 'cause Superiours do obtrude
Penal belief upon them: But as things
To which Mankind sad attestation brings,
For in what devious corner draws he breath,
That hearing shrinks not at brave Cottons death?
For whose dear sake great Nature seems to grone
And throb, as if an Element were gone.
At least he was her Index, wherein we
Her Quadripartite Treasury might see,
Veiwing in brief her Jems: For sure he knew
More Tongues than were at Babels building new:
And in so many Languages could write,
That he's learn'd now, that can but name them right.
That Rubrick Sea of Learning which do's drown
Niles rash Impostors with their puft-up Crown,
Fled before him checking her waves, and there
To his sharp judgment left her bottom bare.
These shew'd his greatnesse, that he did converse
Not with some Nations, but the Universe.
So in his life from all extracting Art,
They all in his sad losse must bear a part.
And though those hands, which had so active been
To out-do Nations, drew their vigour in,
21
But as great Princes indispos'd retire.
Thus the not using feet of so rich price,
Shew'd how he grew a bird of Paradise,
Scorning the flag of man, till he became
Volant above in a Celestial flame;
Whose losse we all now mourn. Yet that we might
Find fair concordance 'twixt his race and flight,
Having presented rich and stately Scenes,
He scorn'd an Exit by the common means.
As Moses pray'd he dy'd, Aaron and Hur
Lifting those hands that wearied could not stir.
Or else, when he had warr'd and conquer'd all,
That subtle Schools abstruse and craggy call,
Triumph'd o're Arts, Vertues, the world and wit,
Strength, Natures weaknesse, and the clogs in it,
His own two Chaplains (to his height now grown)
Seem'd to conduct him to receive his Crown.
XXIV. On a Gentlewoman, whose Nose was pitted with the Small Pox.
Why (foul Disease) in cheek or eyeDurst not thy small Impressions lye?
Or why aspir'd'st thou to that place,
The graceful Promont of her face?
Alas! we see the Rose and Snow
In one thou couldst not overthrow:
And where the other did but please
To look and shine, they kill'd disease.
Then as some sulphurous spirit sent
By the torne Airs distemperment,
To a rich Palace; finds within
Some Sainted maid or Sheba Queen;
And, not of power for her offence,
Rifles the Chimney going hence.
So thou too feeble to controul
The Guest within, her purer soul,
Hast out of spleen to things of grace,
Left thy sunk footsteps in the place.
Yet fear not Maid, since so much fair
Is left, that these can those impair.
Face-scars do not disgrace, but shew
Valour well freed from a bold foe.
22
Honour and Palme to Time and Thee.
XXV. Elegie on Mr. Fra. Leigh, who dyed of the Plague, May-day, 1637.
What means this solemn damp quite through the StrandTo Westminster? Oh! see how sad they stand!
Sorrow invadeth all: as when a Prince
Lov'd, is in pomp of funeral waited hence.
The Town is sadned, and the Temples mourn,
As having lost what never can return.
The greedy Lawyer, and his proud pert Clark,
Lets fall his pleading and his pen, to mark
What 'tis amazes the litigious Hall.
When lo! the fatal murmur reaches all;
And through the shuffling throng the news is spred
In a faint whisper, Hopeful Leigh is dead!
Dead of the Plague! dead in his early Youth!
Leaving quite widowed Handsomnesse and Truth.
His shape was womans envy, and her stain;
His mind all sweet, his Conversation gain
To all, to whom he did the honour grant
T'enjoy those parts, which Nobles boast, yet want.
If he had errors, they were such as ne'r
Could grow to faults, but the next riper year
Would clean have chac'd away. For as from fire
At the first kindling some smoak will aspire;
So youth must be allow'd his vapours, which
Maturity and time will turn to rich
And brightning flames, whereby the world may prove,
Though Man derive from Earth, he mounts to Jove.
Scorning his soul should any other food
Pursue, but that which is supremely good.
Thus he assur'd, yet these in him with grief
We find cut off by fate without relief.
Nor was this all: the Plague which humbly fed,
And onely th'unfann'd Vulgar harrassed;
Perhaps in pity, for to them a Grave
Is far more blest than that poor life they have;
Now is exalted grown, and shews more grim,
Boding a stroke at Gentry thorough him:
And though already thousands be extinct,
Yet they shall be recorded but as linkt
23
There shall no Plague be nam'd: but they that shall
Mention this time, their Annal thus shall run,
This year the first of May the Plague begun:
And for his sake all our Successors shall
This day the second evil May-day call.
XXVI. SONG.
Go, cruel Maid, restore again
Thy snow and rubied lip,
Thy orbed Suns, thy skye of Vein,
Thy blush and jewell'd Tip.
I dare be sworn no Power Divine
E're meant them for that heart of thine.
Thy snow and rubied lip,
Thy orbed Suns, thy skye of Vein,
Thy blush and jewell'd Tip.
I dare be sworn no Power Divine
E're meant them for that heart of thine.
I know when th'Influence of the Pole
Fram'd thy cold heart of Ice,
Thou stol'st these from some kinder soul,
To blind the peoples eyes:
It could not be else thou shouldst thus
Slight one whose love's Idolatrous.
Fram'd thy cold heart of Ice,
Thou stol'st these from some kinder soul,
To blind the peoples eyes:
It could not be else thou shouldst thus
Slight one whose love's Idolatrous.
The Chrystal Heaven that spheres about,
Though it be fair to see;
Unlesse it sends his moist Pearls out,
The world would ruin'd be:
So beauty mixt with coy disdain,
Is but Heaven mark'd with murthers stain.
Though it be fair to see;
Unlesse it sends his moist Pearls out,
The world would ruin'd be:
So beauty mixt with coy disdain,
Is but Heaven mark'd with murthers stain.
What though thou maist with thine eyes-wink
Check the presuming Sun;
They are but Tyrants that can think
T'have all that may be done.
Gods, Kings and Mistresses, should they
Do all they might, this all would all decay.
Check the presuming Sun;
They are but Tyrants that can think
T'have all that may be done.
Gods, Kings and Mistresses, should they
Do all they might, this all would all decay.
24
XXVII. Gunemastix.
Commend a Womans mercy? 'Tis to say
Tygers are kind, to mis-call night for day.
To say there's vertue in a Witches will,
Is truer far: their mercy's but to kill:
Nay, if they did that soon enough, I'de swear
They creatures all compact of pity were.
But they delight in lingring cruelty,
To see men fry in flames, and piece-meal dye.
Tygers are kind, to mis-call night for day.
To say there's vertue in a Witches will,
Is truer far: their mercy's but to kill:
Nay, if they did that soon enough, I'de swear
They creatures all compact of pity were.
But they delight in lingring cruelty,
To see men fry in flames, and piece-meal dye.
Oh they are things, that Nature (vext with men)
Ordain'd for vengeance! and to plague them, then
When she her self blusht at those cruel things
She meant in them to practise. Like those Kings
That smiling to carouse in bloud, appoint
Inferior Executioners, to dis-joynt
Men doom'd for murther; while themselves relent
To be but seers of the punishment.
So Nature turning Tyrant, woman made
Mens spirits scourge; instructing her to trade
In racking of their souls, to flame their hearts,
And to dissect them in a thousand parts.
Ordain'd for vengeance! and to plague them, then
When she her self blusht at those cruel things
She meant in them to practise. Like those Kings
That smiling to carouse in bloud, appoint
Inferior Executioners, to dis-joynt
Men doom'd for murther; while themselves relent
To be but seers of the punishment.
So Nature turning Tyrant, woman made
Mens spirits scourge; instructing her to trade
In racking of their souls, to flame their hearts,
And to dissect them in a thousand parts.
Their looks indeed speak pity, but they are
Like Fowlers shraps, pleasing but to insnare;
That men being thrall'd once in their custody,
They may delight to see how sad they dye.
Cast thy self prostrate at their mercy gate,
There sue for pity: Ah, 'tis to throw thy fate
And liberty to Pirats: 'tis to give
Life unto those that will not let thee live.
'Tis to commit thy blessings to the wave
Of rugged Seas, in hope that That will save.
Oh! have but so much Faith as to believe,
They are the most obdurate things that live!
Like Fowlers shraps, pleasing but to insnare;
That men being thrall'd once in their custody,
They may delight to see how sad they dye.
Cast thy self prostrate at their mercy gate,
There sue for pity: Ah, 'tis to throw thy fate
And liberty to Pirats: 'tis to give
Life unto those that will not let thee live.
'Tis to commit thy blessings to the wave
Of rugged Seas, in hope that That will save.
Oh! have but so much Faith as to believe,
They are the most obdurate things that live!
Tell them what plagues, what tortures and what wo,
What hell-exceeding pains you undergo
For them; it is all one as if you told
A tale to Flint, Images, or Marble cold.
Their songs, their smiles, their glancings, seemings glad,
Are all but deaths in several Liveries clad.
If e'r they seem to pity, 'tis to know
Your souls close secrets, then to laugh at you.
Or else like Butchers, let their favours fall
To fat you for their slaughter and the Stall.
Or like the Flemming, that the Turk dispatches,
Fills him with Cates, to fling him over hatches.
What hell-exceeding pains you undergo
For them; it is all one as if you told
A tale to Flint, Images, or Marble cold.
Their songs, their smiles, their glancings, seemings glad,
Are all but deaths in several Liveries clad.
If e'r they seem to pity, 'tis to know
Your souls close secrets, then to laugh at you.
Or else like Butchers, let their favours fall
To fat you for their slaughter and the Stall.
25
Fills him with Cates, to fling him over hatches.
Live among women! ah, thou more safely maist
Sleep in a bed with Snakes, with Scorpions jest:
They sting the body, and it dyes; but these
Infest the soul with such a sad disease,
Whose plague lives everlastingly, and gives
Nor rest, nor intermission, while thou liv'st.
Their eyes false glasses are; that while the soul
Wings her fair course up to the starry Pole,
They (like a Lark with daring) pull it down,
And then for ever thrall it to their frown.
Their tongues are Syrens notes, which still do train
Th'hearers to death, which before they find, they gain.
Their faces are th'extracted beauties of
The world in one, which Nature made in scoff
Of all else Excellencies: but therein
She hid more treason than the world had sin.
For well she knew those ills that would betide them,
Would shew too foul, without a Veil to hide them.
So that man might be lur'd, and not descry
In Angels shape, she clad black misery.
Sleep in a bed with Snakes, with Scorpions jest:
They sting the body, and it dyes; but these
Infest the soul with such a sad disease,
Whose plague lives everlastingly, and gives
Nor rest, nor intermission, while thou liv'st.
Their eyes false glasses are; that while the soul
Wings her fair course up to the starry Pole,
They (like a Lark with daring) pull it down,
And then for ever thrall it to their frown.
Their tongues are Syrens notes, which still do train
Th'hearers to death, which before they find, they gain.
Their faces are th'extracted beauties of
The world in one, which Nature made in scoff
Of all else Excellencies: but therein
She hid more treason than the world had sin.
For well she knew those ills that would betide them,
Would shew too foul, without a Veil to hide them.
So that man might be lur'd, and not descry
In Angels shape, she clad black misery.
Envious Nature! since thou needs wouldst make
Torture for man, thou mightst have given a shape
That should have shew'd it like an enemy: so
Before he felt, he might have seen his wo:
And not have trod pits strew'd with forged green,
Whereby as men take beasts, so they take him.
Before she was created, this world was
Still as the Caspian Sea, quiet, a glasse
Of firm contentment; wherein man might be
Frolick some years, and not curse Destiny.
But being made, the first act she did try
Seduc'd Mankind, inletted policy,
Taught him a way (which then he did not know)
To carry murther in a smiling brow.
Hence Fishers learn'd to angle, Huntsmen here
To pitch their Toyls, hence Fowlers to insnare
With cozening lures, hence Lawyers to egg on,
And undo Clients with perswasion.
Flatterers to kill: hence, Tradesmen to deceive,
Physicians hence to gild the Pils they give.
That now the world seems but one shop to be
Of Stratagems, of Fraud and Roguery.
Torture for man, thou mightst have given a shape
That should have shew'd it like an enemy: so
Before he felt, he might have seen his wo:
And not have trod pits strew'd with forged green,
Whereby as men take beasts, so they take him.
Before she was created, this world was
Still as the Caspian Sea, quiet, a glasse
Of firm contentment; wherein man might be
Frolick some years, and not curse Destiny.
But being made, the first act she did try
Seduc'd Mankind, inletted policy,
Taught him a way (which then he did not know)
To carry murther in a smiling brow.
Hence Fishers learn'd to angle, Huntsmen here
To pitch their Toyls, hence Fowlers to insnare
With cozening lures, hence Lawyers to egg on,
And undo Clients with perswasion.
Flatterers to kill: hence, Tradesmen to deceive,
Physicians hence to gild the Pils they give.
That now the world seems but one shop to be
Of Stratagems, of Fraud and Roguery.
She's mischiefs powder-plot! that at one blow
Gave Man and all the world an Overthrow.
So primitively ill, that she ne'r cou'd
Yet tell the sense of honesty or good.
And therefore at the first was forc'd to creep
Into the world while man was dead asleep:
Then in her young Creation wrought such smart,
As tore the Rib out that lay next his heart:
For had he wak'd, and had but half his sense,
He sooner would have cop'd with Pestilence,
Then joyn'd with her: who so of joy bereft him,
That ere night came she for the Devil left him.
And if it had not been to damn him too,
Sh'had ne'r return'd, she lik'd his company so.
The Serpent sure that tempted her could be
But a meer Type of one more subtile, she
Or else her own ill disposition
The Serpent was, by which sh'was set upon.
Hast thou a friend thou wishest free from scorn,
From Hell within him? wish when he was born
A sea-deep grave his mother did interre,
And that the world of women dy'd with her.
So if he never knew what woman was,
He may in mirth and quiet his time passe.
But he that after a worlds joy doth come
But to spell Woman, is undone! undone!
Her name is Exorcisme, and the most fair
Inchantresses the worst of witches are.
Elsehow could they infatuate the souls
Of wisest men, and soonest such? when fools,
Not having noble room enough to hold
Unbounded Love, are free by being cold.
Gave Man and all the world an Overthrow.
26
Yet tell the sense of honesty or good.
And therefore at the first was forc'd to creep
Into the world while man was dead asleep:
Then in her young Creation wrought such smart,
As tore the Rib out that lay next his heart:
For had he wak'd, and had but half his sense,
He sooner would have cop'd with Pestilence,
Then joyn'd with her: who so of joy bereft him,
That ere night came she for the Devil left him.
And if it had not been to damn him too,
Sh'had ne'r return'd, she lik'd his company so.
The Serpent sure that tempted her could be
But a meer Type of one more subtile, she
Or else her own ill disposition
The Serpent was, by which sh'was set upon.
Hast thou a friend thou wishest free from scorn,
From Hell within him? wish when he was born
A sea-deep grave his mother did interre,
And that the world of women dy'd with her.
So if he never knew what woman was,
He may in mirth and quiet his time passe.
But he that after a worlds joy doth come
But to spell Woman, is undone! undone!
Her name is Exorcisme, and the most fair
Inchantresses the worst of witches are.
Elsehow could they infatuate the souls
Of wisest men, and soonest such? when fools,
Not having noble room enough to hold
Unbounded Love, are free by being cold.
Oh you Celestial Powers! why did you lend
Accursed man a soul, to be impenn'd
In womens breasts; who use it with despite,
When damning of their own can but requite?
Yet that they may appear in some good strain,
In pities name they'l wrap up their disdain,
So murther you with tears and kindnesse; when
They onely weep that you are not the Man.
And will you call this pity, when it is
Spirit of torture, soul of miseries?
Who's plagu'd thus, boldly may dare Nature to
Find such another plague, man so t'undo.
For they that love, and do not meet with it,
Are gnawn with burning Furies which do sit
Whipping their anguisht souls in them, while they
Are mad to dye, and cannot find the way.
Accursed man a soul, to be impenn'd
In womens breasts; who use it with despite,
When damning of their own can but requite?
Yet that they may appear in some good strain,
In pities name they'l wrap up their disdain,
So murther you with tears and kindnesse; when
They onely weep that you are not the Man.
And will you call this pity, when it is
Spirit of torture, soul of miseries?
Who's plagu'd thus, boldly may dare Nature to
Find such another plague, man so t'undo.
For they that love, and do not meet with it,
Are gnawn with burning Furies which do sit
Whipping their anguisht souls in them, while they
Are mad to dye, and cannot find the way.
27
Passion and Fury pulls that from my pen
I never thought of: For they are to men
(When they are loving) things so precious,
That man out of their sight is ruinous.
Whatever large Philosophy could find
Of Vertue, had Idea from their mind.
Whatever Jems, Stars, Flowers or Metals show
Of Beauty, does advanc't in women flow.
A Temple for the Deity so fit,
As Gods great Son left Heaven to dwell in it.
From whence (when man was forfeit to the Law)
He chose life and immortal flesh to draw.
Nor can the world, with all that is below,
A second shape so brave as woman show.
And I have heard, when Heaven and Nature did
Study what blessings to pour on mans head,
It was agreed (his ruines to repair)
He should enjoy a Woman good, kind, fair.
So if they tax thee for thy pens amisse,
Tell'em thou mean'st they should read onely this,
Though all but she, that this converted hath,
Are ten degrees below a Poets wrath.
I never thought of: For they are to men
(When they are loving) things so precious,
That man out of their sight is ruinous.
Whatever large Philosophy could find
Of Vertue, had Idea from their mind.
Whatever Jems, Stars, Flowers or Metals show
Of Beauty, does advanc't in women flow.
A Temple for the Deity so fit,
As Gods great Son left Heaven to dwell in it.
From whence (when man was forfeit to the Law)
He chose life and immortal flesh to draw.
Nor can the world, with all that is below,
A second shape so brave as woman show.
And I have heard, when Heaven and Nature did
Study what blessings to pour on mans head,
It was agreed (his ruines to repair)
He should enjoy a Woman good, kind, fair.
So if they tax thee for thy pens amisse,
Tell'em thou mean'st they should read onely this,
Though all but she, that this converted hath,
Are ten degrees below a Poets wrath.
XXVIII. To the Painter taking the Picture of the Lady Penelope Countesse of Peterburgh.
Forbear! This face, if taken true,Ruines thine Art: For when men view
So new a model of a Face,
So chaste, so sweet, 'twill quite disgrace
All thy old Rules: but if thy will
Presume to limb new laws for skill,
Upon thy Pallat (fram'd by Art
O'th' splinter of some conquer'd heart)
Temper the Elements, be sure
They be all four most calm and pure:
From these perhaps thou maist descry
Her ev'n complexions harmony.
For either Cheek, when you begin,
Draw me a smiling Cherubin.
For lips thou maist the Gemini track
Of some high Holy-day Zodiack:
For Brow and eyes thou shalt display
The Ev'n and Morn, Creations day:
28
As that day cast, wherein was made
The Sun, before mans damning Fall
Threw a fogg'd guilt upon this All.
Over this Figure raise me high
Figures for stars i'th' convex'd skye;
But give no colour, they will rise
Bright from her efficacious eyes.
Last, draw thy self and Pencil thrown
Beneath her feet: For 'twill be known
She's mistresse of far braver Arts,
Thou Faces tak'st, but she takes Hearts.
XXIX. Upon a breach of Promise.
SONG.
I am confirm'd in my belief,
No Woman hath a soul:
They but delude, that is the chief
To which their Fancies roul.
No Woman hath a soul:
They but delude, that is the chief
To which their Fancies roul.
Else how could bright Aurelia fail,
When she her faith had given;
Since Vows that others ears assail,
Recorded are in heaven.
When she her faith had given;
Since Vows that others ears assail,
Recorded are in heaven.
But as the Alch'mists flattering fires
Swell up his hopes of prise;
Till the crackt Spirit quite expires,
And with his Fortune dies.
Swell up his hopes of prise;
Till the crackt Spirit quite expires,
And with his Fortune dies.
So though they seem to cheer, and speak
Those things we most implore,
They do but flame us up to break,
Then never mind us more.
Those things we most implore,
They do but flame us up to break,
Then never mind us more.
29
XXX. To this written by a Gentlewoman, the Answer underneath was given.
Believe not him whom Love hath left so wise,
As to have power his own tale to tell;
For Childrens griefs do yield the loudest cryes,
And cold desires may be expressed well.
In well-told Love most often falshood lyes.
But pity him that onely sighs and Dyes.
As to have power his own tale to tell;
For Childrens griefs do yield the loudest cryes,
And cold desires may be expressed well.
In well-told Love most often falshood lyes.
But pity him that onely sighs and Dyes.
His Answer.
Yet trust him that a sad tale tells,
With sighs and tears in's eyes:
For Love with torture often dwells,
And can make Ideots wise:
Racks make the strongest roar, Love sticks no dart
But tips the tongue as well as wounds the heart.
With sighs and tears in's eyes:
For Love with torture often dwells,
And can make Ideots wise:
Racks make the strongest roar, Love sticks no dart
But tips the tongue as well as wounds the heart.
Who loves, and dyes, and makes no show,
Hath heart and passion weak;
Since passions that are deep, we know,
Can make the dumb to speak.
Then never pity him whom death can cure,
But pity him that lives and must endure.
Hath heart and passion weak;
Since passions that are deep, we know,
Can make the dumb to speak.
Then never pity him whom death can cure,
But pity him that lives and must endure.
XXXI. SONG.
Cupid
and Venus! who are these?
A Boy and common Tit,
Two lyes that Poets made in ease,
Or in some drunken fit.
Away, away, for I can prove
That Vulcan onely is the god of Love.
A Boy and common Tit,
Two lyes that Poets made in ease,
Or in some drunken fit.
Away, away, for I can prove
That Vulcan onely is the god of Love.
He throws his fire in our veins,
The Bastards shafts he headeth;
Mars and Loves Mother caught in chains,
He as his Prisoner leadeth.
And now I know the light that flyes,
Is his bright Flame calm'd by Clarissa's eyes.
The Bastards shafts he headeth;
Mars and Loves Mother caught in chains,
He as his Prisoner leadeth.
And now I know the light that flyes,
Is his bright Flame calm'd by Clarissa's eyes.
30
His locks and bolts can keep us out,
And to our blisse convey us;
He can secure us round about,
And then he can betray us.
He keeps me from my happinesse, and he
Does prove great Cupid when he lends his key.
And to our blisse convey us;
He can secure us round about,
And then he can betray us.
He keeps me from my happinesse, and he
Does prove great Cupid when he lends his key.
XXXII. This ensuing Copy the late Printer hath been pleased to honour, by mistaking it among those of the most ingenious and too early lost, Sir John Suckling.
When, Dearest, I but think on thee,
Methinks all things that lovely be
Are present, and my soul delighted:
For beauties that from worth arise,
Are like the grace of Deities,
Still present with us, though unsighted.
Methinks all things that lovely be
Are present, and my soul delighted:
For beauties that from worth arise,
Are like the grace of Deities,
Still present with us, though unsighted.
Thus while I sit and sigh the day,
With all his spreading lights away,
Till nights black wings do overtake me:
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleeping men,
So they by their bright rayes awake me.
With all his spreading lights away,
Till nights black wings do overtake me:
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleeping men,
So they by their bright rayes awake me.
Thus absence dyes, and dying proves
No absence can consist with Loves,
That do partake of fair perfection:
Since in the darkest night they may
By their quick motion find a way
To see each other by reflection.
No absence can consist with Loves,
That do partake of fair perfection:
Since in the darkest night they may
By their quick motion find a way
To see each other by reflection.
The waving Sea can with such floud,
Bath some high Palace that hath stood
Far from the Main up in the River:
Oh think not then but love can do
As much, for that's an Ocean too,
That flows not every day, but ever.
Bath some high Palace that hath stood
Far from the Main up in the River:
Oh think not then but love can do
As much, for that's an Ocean too,
That flows not every day, but ever.
31
XXXIII. SONG.
Now (as I live) I love thee much,
And fain would love thee more,
Did I but know thy temper such,
As could give o're.
And fain would love thee more,
Did I but know thy temper such,
As could give o're.
But to ingage thy Virgin-heart,
Then leave it in distresse,
Were to betray thy brave desert,
And make it lesse.
Then leave it in distresse,
Were to betray thy brave desert,
And make it lesse.
Were all the Eastern Treasures mine,
I'de pour them at thy feet:
But to invite a Prince to dine
With air, 's not meet.
I'de pour them at thy feet:
But to invite a Prince to dine
With air, 's not meet.
No, let me rather pine alone,
Then if my fate prove coy,
I can dispence with grief my own,
While thou hast joy.
Then if my fate prove coy,
I can dispence with grief my own,
While thou hast joy.
But if through my too niggard Fate
Thou shouldst unhappy prove,
I should grow mad and desperate
Through grief and love.
Thou shouldst unhappy prove,
I should grow mad and desperate
Through grief and love.
Since then though more I cannot love
Without thy injury;
As Saints that to an Altar move,
My thoughts shall be.
Without thy injury;
As Saints that to an Altar move,
My thoughts shall be.
And think not that the flame is lesse,
For 'tis upon this score,
Were't not a love beyond excesse,
It might be more.
For 'tis upon this score,
Were't not a love beyond excesse,
It might be more.
XXXIV. Upon a rare Voice.
When I but hear her sing, I fareLike one that raised, holds his ear
To some bright star in the supremest Round;
32
There may be heard, from Heaven within,
The Rests of Anthems, that the Angels sound.
XXXV. Considerations of one design'd for a Nunnery.
'Tis to be thought upon,
Whether i'th'bud and prime of blooming Youth
(When each small fybre of the Soul shoots forth,
Warm'd by that Vernall Sun, which then invites it)
I shall my self, and future life give up,
Immur'd, a sacrifice to Avarice
And Opinion: For if it be not such,
What can my being thus a cold Recluse
Be to th'advantage of my Parents souls?
My Charity shall be my own, not theirs;
Nor can my Vigils or abstemious frost,
Or cool or expiate, the smallest fume
Of their intemperate heat; but it will on,
Not minding me, or my pale Orisons.
Nay, had they mued up thus themselves, I had
No being had at all, to argue this.
Why then being come into the world by Providence,
May not I take that turn the gods have given me,
Without (as soon as entred, like a thing
Imperfect made) to be turn'd out again,
As quite unworthy those great bounteous favors,
Heaven and free Nature had design'd me to?
Whether i'th'bud and prime of blooming Youth
(When each small fybre of the Soul shoots forth,
Warm'd by that Vernall Sun, which then invites it)
I shall my self, and future life give up,
Immur'd, a sacrifice to Avarice
And Opinion: For if it be not such,
What can my being thus a cold Recluse
Be to th'advantage of my Parents souls?
My Charity shall be my own, not theirs;
Nor can my Vigils or abstemious frost,
Or cool or expiate, the smallest fume
Of their intemperate heat; but it will on,
Not minding me, or my pale Orisons.
Nay, had they mued up thus themselves, I had
No being had at all, to argue this.
Why then being come into the world by Providence,
May not I take that turn the gods have given me,
Without (as soon as entred, like a thing
Imperfect made) to be turn'd out again,
As quite unworthy those great bounteous favors,
Heaven and free Nature had design'd me to?
Oh but the Benefits,
To avoid the thraldom of imperious Love,
The hazards of contempt, and calumny,
The heats and Hecticks both of Fear, and Love,
The qualms, and throws of Married life, the frets
And cumbers, humming 'bout the Heards of families:
To ride secure out of the reach of Fortune,
O're-looking all those rouling tides of Fate,
Which worldlings still are hurried with; and then
To be wrapt up in Innocence, a Privado
Dear, and familiar to the Deity,
Is surely a condition to be catcht at,
With all th'expansions both of mind, and body.
But then again to weigh the Cancelling
Of what I'm born to, tugging all my life
Against the Tyde; still streining up the hill:
The Plains and pleasant Vallies ever hidden.
What is it lesse then the bold undertaking
Of a perpetual war with Nature? which how well
I can come off with, is to me unknown.
Though, being in, I must go on, whatever
Stops I meet: Vows lock us up for ever,
Without their leaving of a key to loose us.
Must I not then, in spight of all Reluctance,
Wade on, however the deep Current drives me?
But does not Nature in her general course,
Design all Creatures to their fixed end?
Did the wise God of Nature give me Sex
Onely to cast it off? were all our flames
Rais'd, to be kept but in perpetual smother?
Must we have fire still glowing under us,
Onely that we with constant Lading may
Keep our selves cool, and check our boyling fervor?
Our Passions, our Affections and Desires,
We are injoyn'd to regulate, not deposite quite.
Why were their Objects lent us, set before
Our open eyes, and we forbid to view them?
Our joyes, our hopes, the feathers of the soul,
Were never meant us to become our torment.
I cannot think so meanly of the Deity,
That it should fill our sails with pregnant gales,
And yet forbid us touch those pleasing Coasts,
That thereby we are driven to. Vile disguise
Is Impotency's child, and noble Nature scorns,
(Looking streight on) but once to glance aside
In all the Elements. What one creature is there
That is not acted by the flames of Love?
The Mole, that wears no window for the Sun,
Finds yet a light that leads to genial Love.
Those birds, that yearly sleep a Winters death,
Each Spring to mighty Love resuscitate.
The fish that freezeth under floors of Ice,
In his set season thaws and Kippers love.
Who taught cold worms from their dark holes to meet,
And in an amorous close to glue themselves
Till Natures work be done? If Love be fire,
As 'tis the blaze of life, it then must have
Fuel to feed on. All spiritual is
Too fine for flesh to live by; and too grosse
Is food corporeal all: As man is mixt,
So his affections object must. Love temper'd right
Is chaste as cold Virginity. And since
He merits more, that means unbound to pay,
Than he that is ty'd up to strict Conditions:
I'le rather chuse to keep my self in that
Estate my wise Creator did appoint me,
Then to mistrust his Grace, and out of fear
Lock up in forced chains my free-born Soul.
To avoid the thraldom of imperious Love,
The hazards of contempt, and calumny,
The heats and Hecticks both of Fear, and Love,
The qualms, and throws of Married life, the frets
And cumbers, humming 'bout the Heards of families:
To ride secure out of the reach of Fortune,
O're-looking all those rouling tides of Fate,
Which worldlings still are hurried with; and then
To be wrapt up in Innocence, a Privado
Dear, and familiar to the Deity,
Is surely a condition to be catcht at,
With all th'expansions both of mind, and body.
But then again to weigh the Cancelling
Of what I'm born to, tugging all my life
33
The Plains and pleasant Vallies ever hidden.
What is it lesse then the bold undertaking
Of a perpetual war with Nature? which how well
I can come off with, is to me unknown.
Though, being in, I must go on, whatever
Stops I meet: Vows lock us up for ever,
Without their leaving of a key to loose us.
Must I not then, in spight of all Reluctance,
Wade on, however the deep Current drives me?
But does not Nature in her general course,
Design all Creatures to their fixed end?
Did the wise God of Nature give me Sex
Onely to cast it off? were all our flames
Rais'd, to be kept but in perpetual smother?
Must we have fire still glowing under us,
Onely that we with constant Lading may
Keep our selves cool, and check our boyling fervor?
Our Passions, our Affections and Desires,
We are injoyn'd to regulate, not deposite quite.
Why were their Objects lent us, set before
Our open eyes, and we forbid to view them?
Our joyes, our hopes, the feathers of the soul,
Were never meant us to become our torment.
I cannot think so meanly of the Deity,
That it should fill our sails with pregnant gales,
And yet forbid us touch those pleasing Coasts,
That thereby we are driven to. Vile disguise
Is Impotency's child, and noble Nature scorns,
(Looking streight on) but once to glance aside
In all the Elements. What one creature is there
That is not acted by the flames of Love?
The Mole, that wears no window for the Sun,
Finds yet a light that leads to genial Love.
Those birds, that yearly sleep a Winters death,
Each Spring to mighty Love resuscitate.
The fish that freezeth under floors of Ice,
In his set season thaws and Kippers love.
Who taught cold worms from their dark holes to meet,
And in an amorous close to glue themselves
Till Natures work be done? If Love be fire,
As 'tis the blaze of life, it then must have
Fuel to feed on. All spiritual is
Too fine for flesh to live by; and too grosse
Is food corporeal all: As man is mixt,
So his affections object must. Love temper'd right
34
He merits more, that means unbound to pay,
Than he that is ty'd up to strict Conditions:
I'le rather chuse to keep my self in that
Estate my wise Creator did appoint me,
Then to mistrust his Grace, and out of fear
Lock up in forced chains my free-born Soul.
35
XXXVII. On Thomas Lord Coventry, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal of England, who dyed Decemb. 1640.
We need not search for penitent sinners tears,
For Blacks—the widow or wrong'd Orphan wears,
For sighs from Kings deposed, or for grief
From shipwreckt Merchants, banisht all relief.
Nor need we here Laments t'embalm this Herse,
That flattering Poets strain from bleeding Verse.
Here petty streams not onely Currents pay,
But all the Ocean flouds each dryest way.
'Tis not an Angle, Province, that or this
That weeps: The general Kingdom Mourner is.
Nor is't a Plank or prop that's lost by Fate,
But 'tis a Capital Column of the State.
Which here so summons grief, that all men good
Approach, and bring sad Tribute to the floud:
That now this Isle not onely seems to be
Inviron'd round with waves, but waves to be.
Our London is turn'd Venice, and our gay
Pallaces peer, as plac'd in a salt Bay.
Where Tydes of sorrow make us think we meet
Not men on Land, but Rowers in the street.
And when we hence a stage or two shall pass,
We shall see clearer what our last Scene was.
For Blacks—the widow or wrong'd Orphan wears,
For sighs from Kings deposed, or for grief
From shipwreckt Merchants, banisht all relief.
Nor need we here Laments t'embalm this Herse,
That flattering Poets strain from bleeding Verse.
Here petty streams not onely Currents pay,
But all the Ocean flouds each dryest way.
'Tis not an Angle, Province, that or this
That weeps: The general Kingdom Mourner is.
Nor is't a Plank or prop that's lost by Fate,
But 'tis a Capital Column of the State.
Which here so summons grief, that all men good
Approach, and bring sad Tribute to the floud:
That now this Isle not onely seems to be
Inviron'd round with waves, but waves to be.
Our London is turn'd Venice, and our gay
Pallaces peer, as plac'd in a salt Bay.
Where Tydes of sorrow make us think we meet
Not men on Land, but Rowers in the street.
And when we hence a stage or two shall pass,
We shall see clearer what our last Scene was.
Who is't hereafter that shall dare to draw
A Line to part Prerogative and Law?
And shew from each—Man may, by fair Acquist,
Be both a Patriot and a Royalist.
Who can dispatch so much so well, so free
From Fear, from Favour, stain or Bribery?
Who shall discover now those flourisht sleights,
That Lawyers offer for pretended rights?
When all their Pleadings, Oratory, Law,
Is but the Judge to judge amisse, to draw.
Who shall at first relation hear, and spy
The knot? and that not cut but well untye?
Who shall like Virgo in the Zodiack (fit)
Between bold Leo and just Libra sit,
Stern Justice to pronounce? which they that lose
Must praise, because they have not power to chuse,
Unlesse they forfeit Conscience first: and then
'Tis not in gods to give content to men.
Who shall spring up his heir of Brain? so keen,
So solid and so strong, as had he been
The living Volume of the Law, he cou'd
Not have done more, or more diffusive good.
A Line to part Prerogative and Law?
And shew from each—Man may, by fair Acquist,
Be both a Patriot and a Royalist.
Who can dispatch so much so well, so free
From Fear, from Favour, stain or Bribery?
Who shall discover now those flourisht sleights,
That Lawyers offer for pretended rights?
When all their Pleadings, Oratory, Law,
Is but the Judge to judge amisse, to draw.
Who shall at first relation hear, and spy
The knot? and that not cut but well untye?
Who shall like Virgo in the Zodiack (fit)
Between bold Leo and just Libra sit,
Stern Justice to pronounce? which they that lose
Must praise, because they have not power to chuse,
Unlesse they forfeit Conscience first: and then
'Tis not in gods to give content to men.
36
So solid and so strong, as had he been
The living Volume of the Law, he cou'd
Not have done more, or more diffusive good.
Th'unfriended's Patron, the oppressed's shield;
The Fort of Truth, untaught by charms to yield:
That knew his right of Place, and durst 'gainst all
Maintain't; whilst none durst it in question call.
The Subjects Anchor; yet in's just intent
His Royal Princes noblest instrument
Strong proof 'gainst all corruption; and 'gainst all
Malice could vent from her invenom'd Gall
He was triumphant still: not the least stain
But did glide off, as from oyl'd Satten rain.
The Fort of Truth, untaught by charms to yield:
That knew his right of Place, and durst 'gainst all
Maintain't; whilst none durst it in question call.
The Subjects Anchor; yet in's just intent
His Royal Princes noblest instrument
Strong proof 'gainst all corruption; and 'gainst all
Malice could vent from her invenom'd Gall
He was triumphant still: not the least stain
But did glide off, as from oyl'd Satten rain.
Advanc'd on Judgments Throne, he did not rise
T'ore-look himself, or others to despise.
For well he knew, ev'n Kings are not exempt,
But if they sow Disdain, they reap Contempt.
His were not Courts alone, but Readings; there
The Bar was throng'd rather to learn than hear.
Nor were men check'd or jested from their right,
Council he did but rectifie, not bite.
Not empty, swell'd with State; as if his word
Could lesse with reason awe, than with My Lord.
No payments with Court-frowns; or such sowre looks
As could blot debts from some poor Tradesmens books.
No itch, nor yet contempt of Fame; which flyes
Yet most to those who merit more, than prize.
Not cholerick out of greatnesse: Such i'th' skye
Of Honour, drawn up by the Suns heat high,
Hang fir'd and sparkle, threat some dire event
To fright the world with; but their slime once spent,
They then, not in vast Seas or Royal Thames,
But in some puddle quench their Bearded Flames.
T'ore-look himself, or others to despise.
For well he knew, ev'n Kings are not exempt,
But if they sow Disdain, they reap Contempt.
His were not Courts alone, but Readings; there
The Bar was throng'd rather to learn than hear.
Nor were men check'd or jested from their right,
Council he did but rectifie, not bite.
Not empty, swell'd with State; as if his word
Could lesse with reason awe, than with My Lord.
No payments with Court-frowns; or such sowre looks
As could blot debts from some poor Tradesmens books.
No itch, nor yet contempt of Fame; which flyes
Yet most to those who merit more, than prize.
Not cholerick out of greatnesse: Such i'th' skye
Of Honour, drawn up by the Suns heat high,
Hang fir'd and sparkle, threat some dire event
To fright the world with; but their slime once spent,
They then, not in vast Seas or Royal Thames,
But in some puddle quench their Bearded Flames.
In midst of Tempests calm! He had command
In passions strain'd Career to make a stand.
So Armies bravely disciplin'd, exalt
In winged Marches, and then make an Alt.
Not hurried into rage by weaknesse; Wit
And Judgment never with wild Fury sit.
The Sun in's temperate Zone does gently turn
The Spring: In Torrid, does not warm but burn.
True wisdoms God is never found in noise;
But that God was found in the cool soft voice.
In passions strain'd Career to make a stand.
So Armies bravely disciplin'd, exalt
In winged Marches, and then make an Alt.
Not hurried into rage by weaknesse; Wit
And Judgment never with wild Fury sit.
The Sun in's temperate Zone does gently turn
The Spring: In Torrid, does not warm but burn.
True wisdoms God is never found in noise;
But that God was found in the cool soft voice.
A Life in all so blemishlesse, that we
Enoch's return may sooner hope, than he
Should be outshin'd by any. More's learned wit,
Nor Bacon's miracl'd Fancy e're can sit
Loftier in Fames high Tower, than what we see
Flows from his lasting Names integrity.
Nor is this Fancy, catcht report, or guess,
For all have seen what all these lines profess.
So though the Poet be lest out, yet I
From Truth and Him may reach Eternity.
Enoch's return may sooner hope, than he
37
Nor Bacon's miracl'd Fancy e're can sit
Loftier in Fames high Tower, than what we see
Flows from his lasting Names integrity.
Nor is this Fancy, catcht report, or guess,
For all have seen what all these lines profess.
So though the Poet be lest out, yet I
From Truth and Him may reach Eternity.
These shadows were; he that would do him right,
Must History, and not a Poem write.
He must draw Cato, Solon, Cicero,
Even all the Sages, and our own Laws too.
For in that History he must devise
To paint out all Philosophy calls wise.
He must describe the gods Olympus, where
Honours best Exercises acted were.
Whose Base was firm and fruitful, but we find
His calm top dwelt above or Clouds or Wind.
He must limb spirits never tir'd; such parts
As had of equal rule all the best Arts.
He must two wonders tell; In him (both eas'd)
The Prince and People fifteen years well pleas'd.
The other; All his wayes so ballanc'd were,
As no base wit in Libel durst appear.
Then he must dye, to make the world confesse
A wise man onely is then one God lesse.
Last, let there be a generous Odor fann'd
By soft perfumed winds through all the Land:
Then like rich essence in the locks of Fame
If't stick and last for ever, that's his Name.
Must History, and not a Poem write.
He must draw Cato, Solon, Cicero,
Even all the Sages, and our own Laws too.
For in that History he must devise
To paint out all Philosophy calls wise.
He must describe the gods Olympus, where
Honours best Exercises acted were.
Whose Base was firm and fruitful, but we find
His calm top dwelt above or Clouds or Wind.
He must limb spirits never tir'd; such parts
As had of equal rule all the best Arts.
He must two wonders tell; In him (both eas'd)
The Prince and People fifteen years well pleas'd.
The other; All his wayes so ballanc'd were,
As no base wit in Libel durst appear.
Then he must dye, to make the world confesse
A wise man onely is then one God lesse.
Last, let there be a generous Odor fann'd
By soft perfumed winds through all the Land:
Then like rich essence in the locks of Fame
If't stick and last for ever, that's his Name.
XXXVIII. Upon Abolishing the Feast of the Nativity of our blessed Saviour, Anno 1643.
Shall Bloud and Ruine find a day
To feast and play?
Shall we go on in rage, and still
Rejoyce when Brothers Brothers kill?
Shall we each year the growing State
Of our great Senate celebrate?
Shall annual Rights and heightned mirth
Frolick each petty Princes Birth?
And shall the Lord of Life's blest day.
Be thrown away?
To feast and play?
Shall we go on in rage, and still
Rejoyce when Brothers Brothers kill?
Shall we each year the growing State
Of our great Senate celebrate?
Shall annual Rights and heightned mirth
Frolick each petty Princes Birth?
And shall the Lord of Life's blest day.
Be thrown away?
38
Dear Day! thy memory to me
Shall precious be.
Since God at first his stamp did set,
And man till now continued it,
I'le shew my joy and thanks: Suppose
That very day no Mortal knows,
Yet since just power does one command,
That one to me as well shall stand,
As leaving Ægypt; which in one,
Yet was not done.
Shall precious be.
Since God at first his stamp did set,
And man till now continued it,
I'le shew my joy and thanks: Suppose
That very day no Mortal knows,
Yet since just power does one command,
That one to me as well shall stand,
As leaving Ægypt; which in one,
Yet was not done.
No day since the Creation yet
Was grac'd like it:
Crouded with miracles it came
Into the world: the Heavens proclaim
By new created light, the Thing;
While th'Hosts of God descend and sing,
The joy to Shepherds th'Angel brings,
And a bright Star does summon Kings.
To all mankind glad tydings flyes,
To th'weak and wise.
Was grac'd like it:
Crouded with miracles it came
Into the world: the Heavens proclaim
By new created light, the Thing;
While th'Hosts of God descend and sing,
The joy to Shepherds th'Angel brings,
And a bright Star does summon Kings.
To all mankind glad tydings flyes,
To th'weak and wise.
And where the Prince does not forbid,
The Subject's ty'd
T'obey him in his Vice-Roy: So
Where God my Father sayes not No,
There my blest Mother, his chaste Spouse,
The Church, as Mistress, rules the House.
No Steward of a private Farme
Shall there my just Obedience charme.
Jews may reject the day, but I
Will Christian dye.
The Subject's ty'd
T'obey him in his Vice-Roy: So
Where God my Father sayes not No,
There my blest Mother, his chaste Spouse,
The Church, as Mistress, rules the House.
No Steward of a private Farme
Shall there my just Obedience charme.
Jews may reject the day, but I
Will Christian dye.
XXXIX. On Mr. Mynshull.
Mistake not this, 'tis not his Monument;That worth is poor can in a Tomb be pent.
Imagine Man unfaln! constant to Truth:
Thereby you may collect what was his Youth.
Propose the Schools in practice, marry the Arts
To sweetnesse, till they prove a charm for hearts:
Erect a Centre, where the fervent Love
Of Lord and Labourer together move
39
Atonement 'twixt the worlds frail gods and men.
Think that brave Name which scorns to have an end,
Th'unfound Idea of a perfect friend.
Let him live lov'd as Women, th'Spring or Health
By Fever'd men, or as by th'Usurer wealth.
And when he dyes, let all that Interest have
In goodnesse, pay sad Tribute to his grave.
When thou hast scann'd all this, thou then maist see
What 'tis these poor Materials would tell thee.
For 'tis the Trophy of those Breasts that grieve,
That Mynshull being all this, does not still live.
XL. AN EPITAPH
To the Eternal Memory of Charles the First, King of Great Britain, France and Ireland, &c. Inhumanely murthered by a perfidious Party of His prevalent Subjects, Jan. 30. 1648.
When He had shewn the world, that He was King
Of all those Vertues that can Honour bring;
And by His Princely Graces made it known,
That Rule was so inherently His Own,
That His great Parts might justly Him prefer
Not to two Isles, but the worlds Emperor.
When His large Soul in sufferings had out-shin'd
All Jobs vast Patience: and in His clear Mind
Had rivall'd Solomons Wisdom, but out-gone
His Temperance, in His most tempting Throne.
When by a Noble Christian Fortitude,
He had serenely tryumph'd o're all rude
And barbarous Indignities that men
(Inspir'd from Hell) could act by hand or pen.
When He to save the Church had shed His blood,
And dy'd for being (onely) Wise and Good:
When His three Kingdoms in a well-weigh'd sense
He'd rather lose, than a good Conscience:
As knowing, 'twas a far more glorious thing
To dye a Martyr, than to live a King.
When He had copy'd out in every Line,
Our Saviours Passion (bating the Divine)
Nay, even His Prayers and Gospel, if we look
Impartially upon his peerlesse Book;
A Book so rarely good, we read in one
The Psalms and Proverbs, David-Solomon;
With all that high-born Charity, which shines
Quite through the great Apostles sacred lines:
That, spight of rage, next future Ages shall
Hold it (with Reverence stamp'd) Canonical.
Of all those Vertues that can Honour bring;
And by His Princely Graces made it known,
That Rule was so inherently His Own,
That His great Parts might justly Him prefer
Not to two Isles, but the worlds Emperor.
When His large Soul in sufferings had out-shin'd
All Jobs vast Patience: and in His clear Mind
Had rivall'd Solomons Wisdom, but out-gone
His Temperance, in His most tempting Throne.
When by a Noble Christian Fortitude,
He had serenely tryumph'd o're all rude
And barbarous Indignities that men
(Inspir'd from Hell) could act by hand or pen.
When He to save the Church had shed His blood,
And dy'd for being (onely) Wise and Good:
When His three Kingdoms in a well-weigh'd sense
He'd rather lose, than a good Conscience:
As knowing, 'twas a far more glorious thing
To dye a Martyr, than to live a King.
When He had copy'd out in every Line,
Our Saviours Passion (bating the Divine)
Nay, even His Prayers and Gospel, if we look
Impartially upon his peerlesse Book;
40
The Psalms and Proverbs, David-Solomon;
With all that high-born Charity, which shines
Quite through the great Apostles sacred lines:
That, spight of rage, next future Ages shall
Hold it (with Reverence stamp'd) Canonical.
When Herod, Judas, Pilate, and the Jews,
Scots, Cromwell, Bradshaw, and the shag-haird Mews
Had quite out-acted, and by their damn'd Cry
Of injur'd Justice, lessened Crucifie:
When He had prov'd, that since the world began,
So many Tears were never shed for Man:
Since so belov'd he fell, that with pure grief
His Subjects dy'd, 'cause he was reft of Life:
When to convince the Heretick worlds base thought,
His Royal Bloud true miracles had wrought:
When it appear'd, He to this world was sent,
The Glory of Kings, but Shame of Parliament:
The stain of th'English, that can never dye;
The Protestants perpetual Infamy:
When He had rose thus, Truths great Sacrifice,
Here CHARLES the First, and CHRIST the second byes.
Scots, Cromwell, Bradshaw, and the shag-haird Mews
Had quite out-acted, and by their damn'd Cry
Of injur'd Justice, lessened Crucifie:
When He had prov'd, that since the world began,
So many Tears were never shed for Man:
Since so belov'd he fell, that with pure grief
His Subjects dy'd, 'cause he was reft of Life:
When to convince the Heretick worlds base thought,
His Royal Bloud true miracles had wrought:
When it appear'd, He to this world was sent,
The Glory of Kings, but Shame of Parliament:
The stain of th'English, that can never dye;
The Protestants perpetual Infamy:
When He had rose thus, Truths great Sacrifice,
Here CHARLES the First, and CHRIST the second byes.
XLI. On the Lady E. M.
Her Prudence, Wit and Memory being told,Death seiz'd her streight; mistook her to be old.
A sheet of Bacon's catch'd at more, we know,
Than all sad Fox, long Holinshead or Stow.
She was but Eight; yet judgment had such store,
Upon a just Compute she dy'd Threescore.
Ladies, take heed how to be wise you try,
For 'tis resolv'd, who will be wise must dye.
FINIS.
| Resolves: Divine, Moral, Political | |