Small poems of Divers sorts :: :: University of Virginia Library

I saw a proud fair Lass to day,
Whose beauties equal those of May:
She is as sweet as flowers new blown;
Much pity she should lie alone.
What would you give to bless your sight
With such an object of delight?

2

I wondred at her delicate hair,
Mulcibers Net so soft and rare,
T'entangle even the Gods above,
And fill their hearts with gentle love.
What would you give, &c.

3

I gaz'd upon her beauteous eyes,
Loves exquisitest Palaces:
VVherein as many Cupids be,
As there are men that dare them see.
VVhat would you give, &c.

4

Het stately forehead was so fair,
That Iris Arch is no compare:

149

Match'd onely in lame Vulcans bride,
Unequal'd in the world beside,
What, &c.

5

Her sweetest Mouth doth far excell
The Delphian certain Oracle:
Tis Loves best musick, all ears charmer,
All hearts enthraller, and blouds warmer.
What, &c.

6

Her pretty hands I did espy,
Fitter for kisses then an eye:
They were so small, I cannot look
For such again but in a book.
What, &c.

7

Her bosome, Beauties sweet champain,
The Poets Elizium I do fain.
Not white with snow, but a selecter
Colour, all overstrow'd with Nectar.
What, &c.

8

The two brave Thrones of beauty, her
Fine admirable Breasts prefer
Before Olympus, or Mount Ide,
Where Iove most happy might abide.
What, &c.

9

She had her clothes on, and I could
See no more, but to say am bold,

150

That there was too much beauty under
To be look'd on for love and wonder.
What would you give, &c.

The second Song.

[You Ladies fair]

1

You Ladies fair,
That worthy are
Of all to be beloved,
And yet have hearts
So hard that darts
From eyes have never moved.

2

You cruel Saints,
That slight complaints,
And scorn to pity any;
I hope to see
The time when ye
Shall be in love with many.

3

Which when I hear,
Then I will swear
That you are rightly fitted:
And that himself
The little Elfe
On you hath well acquitted.

4

But do your worst,
I'm not accurst,
My Mistris is no coy one:

151

For she is kind,
And hath no mind
Within her to destroy one.

The third song being an answer to O no, I tell thee no.

1

Away I say, away,
I no longer can delay,
And my heart forbids me stay:
It swears by thy squint eyes,
That could never entice
Foul Porters or Footboyes;
By thy Ruby nose, and lips lilly white,
And thy teeth with yellow dight,
Nere to come, nere to come again in thy sight.

2

It swears by thy dry'd skin
Thy bosome within,
And thy paps lank, and thin;
And by thy durty golls,
That be to carry coles,
And rake dust out of holes;
By thy beastly form, and thy foul gouty feet,
That can scarce cross a street,
Nere again, nere again thee any where to meet.

3

By my hatred it swears,
Thy crook-back, and lave-ears,
Thy threescore and odde years,

152

By thy breath that is
So strong, that (with a kiss)
It would kill a Cockatrice.
By my last farwell, this kicke on thy breech,
And thy old salt Itch,
Nere to see, nere to see thee again thou witch.

The fourth song, being a fictitious Relation.

[1]

Let every man beware, for fear of stout Hugh Nunnick,
To speak ill of his Cornwall, or to dispraise Boconnick.
For he's a Cornish Chaugh, and not of it ashamed,
And born was near Boconnick at a place needs not be named.

2

He hath been very merry all from the mount to Lanston,
Where about many a May-pole, and many a green he hath danc'd on,
At Lestithel, and Bodman, at Truro, and Polmagon
The courteous Lad Polwheel and he have tossed many a Flagon.

3

He plaid at foils before his Worship Sir Iohn Trelany,
Where on the eyes, and foreheads, and mouthes he hit a many.

153

There was a cudgel-play not long since at Penwarden,
Where he did break a Constables head, and the shins of a Churchwarden.

4

At Foy, he almost lost his eyes with too much laughter,
When he was at the wedding of Pru the Mayors fair daughter.
He was invited to venison, but the Pasty being open,
There nought was in't but Apples, and they but meanly soken.

5

At Tap-houses he drank Syder with the old Lord Roberts Brewer,
And cuft him ere he parted, for saying he was truer:
Then the Hostesse railed, and said that he was foxed:
She ly'd like a stinking Baggage; he could have drunk an Hogshead.

6

At Okehampton town old Sherry gave him the staggers,
Where he was so unruly, they lodg'd him among the Beggars.
At Exeter a Chine of beef he had, the first he eat on;
And you my friends that hear this song, he swore it was a great one.
He spent his money in rambling, and so was fain to rook on
Al the way from Salssbury until he came to Okeham;

154

Where he lives very merry; For he is that town Carrier,
And never left his trade but once, to be Grave Maurice Warrier.

The fifth Song.

[It is an offence to love, and to love you]

1

It is an offence to love, and to love you;
VVou'd I were blind, or you were true.
VVhy should there be a mine of joyes within
Your Body, and if t'is a sin?

2

If I do say I love, I'm sure tis fit,
If I have judgement, or have wit:
For your deserts are wonders that would move
Not onely mine, but any's love.

3

Some half-soul'd men that cannot tell what tis
To love or hate beyond a kiss;
By seeing you do kindle a strange fire
VVithin them, and your sweets desire.

4

You need not clothes, nor art, nor with a smile
Hope any mans heart to beguile:
Your Coyness, your Neglects, your Frowns will do
More then all Ladies else that wooe.

5

Tis not my weakness, but tis your desert,
I am not owner of my heart:

155

If I would be mine own again, and wise,
My last help is to blind mine eies.

6

But if (when I have lost my sight) I should
My flame still burning in me hold;
I should have plaid the fine Fool with my seeing,
My heart being in no hope of freeing.

7

Therefore to shun all blame, I will refine
My love, and yet be truly thine.
My wild affections I will forget,
And burn with a Platonick heat.

8

As now your gorgeous clothes I do esteem,
Because your body graceth them:
So I that beauteous Fabrick will adore
As your souls Temple, love no more.

The sixth Song.

[An health, an health, an health to all this day]

An health, an health, an health to all this day
That will drink half a dozen ere they go their way,
And will meet at an Ale-house;
Let come, let come,
Let this Pot be a sign
VVe are merry without wine,
And content in a Countrey Ale-house.
Lets drink, and sing Catches,
But few are our Matches.

156

And tipple, and tipple, and tipple a round,
Here's to thy wench, to my wench; come to al girles;
Though it cost us Lads many a pound.

The Seventh Song, of the Bear in Poulesworth.

1

Let those that hate their home-born ease,
Travell to Countreys Dutch or Danish:
And those that weary are of Peace,
Go serve the French King or the Spanish.
We wise
Do them despise,
For we will stay here,
And with whole Flagons bait our own Bear.

2

Let Puritans be packing hence
Into New England with their Preachers;
As poor of mony as of sense,
And be the Indians fine Teachers.
We wise, &c.

3

Let those that dote upon a Face
Adorn themselves to please another;
Sigh, court, and pray to win some Grace,
And subject be to Cupids mother.
We wise, &c.

4

Let those that like them see fine shows,
Dote on a Camel, or Elephant,

257

The puppet-play that by water goes,
The sword of Guy, or Iohn of Gaunt.
We wise, &c.

5

Let zealous sisters trudge a foot,
And toile their legs to hear a Lecture,
And there be chok'd with an Hebrew root,
At which the Minister doth conjecture
We wise, &c.

6

They that are gluttons, and love meat,
And it had rather be devouring,
The greasy Cook-shops may repleat;
VVhil'st we our full cups are out-pouring.
We wise, &c.

7

Y'are welcome all unto this place
That fears no Constable or Church-warden:
Here we will sing and drink apace,
And slight the sports of Paris-garden.
We wise
Do them despise;
For we will stay here,
And with whole flaggons baite our own bear.

The eight song, upon the first expedition into the North under the late King.

1

Will you hear a song
Shall do no body no wrong,

258

And yet was writ at randum
By a friend of mine
Ore a glass of wine,
So great it would make a man dumb.

2

He wanted no matter,
To have made it a Satyre,
And abus'd all towns-men, and Nobles:
But he thought it unfit
o to wrong his wit,
To bring himself into troubles.

3

To all his friends
He sends his commends,
And praies them when they are drinking
To forbear to prate
Of matters of State,
And leave them to th'Councels thinking:

4

Nor to take it in snuff
If a man in buff
Doth come into their chamber;
As if they thought
All Souldiers were naught,
And a contempt was in armour.

5

Nor when they are drunk
To think of a punk,

259

For fear of the flux, or sweating;
But away to creep,
And (at home) go sleep,
And leave it a friendly meeting.

6

He would have them next
Not to be perplext
If their Mistresses be cruel;
Not to fight with them
Whom they do esteem;
Lest they be jeer'd for the Duel.

7

If a man love one,
And her heart be gon,
And plac'd upon another:
Let him do the same
In little Cupids name,
And that will please Loves mother.

8

Let him that is forth
Going to the north,
Have his health drunk every sitting;
And all good success
Wish'd unto the English,
And all things else befitting.

9

Let the souldiers obey
What the captains say,

260

Lest they disgrace their profession;
And save their blows
From their friends for their foes,
And all their angers expression.

10

Let us fight for our King,
And same will sing
Of us an endless story;
The Chronicles will tell
That we did well,
And liv'd and dy'd in glory.

The ninth song.

[O Cupid use thy bow]

1

O Cupid use thy bow,
Thy deity declare;
Make all fit people know
Thy force that living are.

2

But shoot aright (good boy)
And mutual fire constrain;
For it is tytanny
To make our love in vain.

3

Let Matrons peevish be
Whose lookes time hath decaid:
But let no youthful she
From earth decease a Maid.

261

4

Let Ethiops froward prove
Whom nature hath made back:
And they thy pleasures love
That no perfections lack.

5

Make every man love one,
And him his mistress too;
So Hymen shall not moane
For wanting of his due.

6

The young ones of each sex
Will thereby have content,
And not hereafter vex,
To fast so long a Lent.

The tenth Song.

[Curle every hair, smile with your eyes]

1

Curle every hair, smile with your eyes,
And enchant
Any Saint
With the rare musick of your voice:
Show your breast,
Or your best,
Me you no way have to entice.

2

Dance to sweet numbers, to excel,
Being so quick,
'Rithmetick;
And so most evenly, and so well,

262

That our wonder
May not number
Those soft steps your feet do tell.

3

Take your sweet Lute (which is the spirit
Of musick)
And use it
Unto your highest praise of merit:
Though each sound
My ears wound,
My heart nereless shall freely bear it.

4

Were all your clothes so rich and fine,
As you were
In her sphere
Bright Citheræa to out-shine;
Yet they shoo'd
Not my blood
Warm like unto a glass of wine.

5

In hope to conquer at first sight,
To each part
Add all art:
And to provoke an appetite,
To your will
Joyn your skill;
Yet all your magick I shall slight.

263

6

Let you and I together go
In the spring,
When birds sing;
And I'le swear to talk, not wooe:
Or when heat
Makes us get
Into an Arbour, I'le do so.

7

I cannot be a thrall to her
Who I know
Heart doth ow
To another, and him prefer;
If my suit
Miss the fruit,
I the tree can well abhor.

8

Yet (Lady) witness all we see,
Tis not I
That deny,
Nor is it you that disagree:
Honour so
Slight you do,
That I in love can never be.

The eleventh Song.

[Wherefore should gallants be sad]

1

Wherefore should gallants be sad,
And keep house like an owl all day?
Sure they that do so are mad,
Or want money a shot to pay.

264

Then let's drink off our pots,
Our glasses and our bowles:
The refusers all are fots,
And men of narrow soules.
Our honest hostess: doth sing; our honest hostess doth sing
With a pot of ale
In her hand, that is stale,
Sing hey ding, ding a ding, ding.

2

Leave thinking of London sack,
Of Rhenish, Claret, and White
Such chargeable liquors lack,
And in an Alehouse delight.
If our drink be strong of the malt,
And boyled enough withal,
I wonder who can find fault
With such a good cup of ale.
Our honest hostess doth sing, &c.

3

If any two be fallen out,
And ready a duel to fight,
Let them drink together a bout,
A whole day or a whole night:
And that will make them friends,
And have no mind to quarrel,
Without their bloods expence;
Such vertue is in a barrel.
Our honest hostess doth sing, &c.

265

4

If any man be in love,
And cannot his mistress get,
Let him all business remove,
And go and drink a fit.
Good company, and good drink,
And an house that will reckon right,
Will make any body think
Time spent in love's no delight.
Our honest hostess doth sing, &c.

5

If a man want money or clothes,
And hath but a friend to pay;
Good liquor will banish his woes,
And make him a merry day:
It Physick is for each grief,
And medicine for all diseases;
The labourers sole relief,
And all his toile appeases.
Our honest hostess doth sing, &c.

6

A pot of spic't ale and a tost
Is good for a mornings draught;
And meat either boyl'd or rost,
For dinner, if it be salt.
'Twill make ones liquor go down
Without sharking, with delight;
And Gentleman make, or clown,
To sleep without waking all night.
Our honest hostess doth sing, &c.

266

The twelfth song. The wenches complaint, Non e maggior tormento.

1

I can no greater torment find
Then ly with one I cannot love;
Each minute seems a year confin'd,
So slowly then do minutes move.
When me his hap's to kiss, or touch,
I with him am offended much.

2

If he doth chance to me to say,
Can it be possible (my Dear)
You so abstemious are from play
That you (against your will) ly here?
I am enforc'd in complement
To tell him I have much content.

3

Imagine Ladies, you that know
What a vexation it is,
If from my heart I speak or no,
And do not counterfeit all this:
For when to him I turn my back,
I mouthes at him in hatred make.

4

All that enamoured are of me,
VVhom I cannot affect again,
Thus from their passions I do free;
I have no pleasure in their gain:
And (if they think I any take)
Tis with their money I it make.

267

5

Women that are by want opprest

These four first Stanza's are translated out of Italian; the end in the original omitted as too, wanton, and this last added for a conclusion.

And therefore yield unto this vice,
Know all the world they do detest
Embraces that are not their choice.
The want of mony is unjust,
To make them subject unto lust.

The thirteenth song. William the Conquerour to Emma the Miliners daughter of Manchester.

1

Hellen of Greece I should despise,
And Cressida unhandsome call;
Poppæa would not please mine eyes,
My Emma so exceeds them all.
When she doth chance to combe her head,
She scatters night upon her face;
Her lovely brown hair being spred,
Those clouds forbid our eagerest gaze.
Envy about her can suppose
No fault at all, but in her clothes.

2

When her fine hand th'Eclipse removes,
And lets her eyes dart forth their beams,
Our hearts are burned by our loves,
And quenched by our Optick streams.
Lest her sweet eyes, ore-glorious lights,
Should fire on one another reflect,
And burn themselves to endless nights,
Her delicate nose stands to protect.
Envy about, &c.

268

3

Her lips themselves in love have kist,
And married were by her sweet tongue;
Her dear heart gave them to the Priest,
And all th'Epithalamium song.
Her even and little teeth all clad
In white, as white as purest snow,
Instead of bridemen wait most glad,
And for the bridemaids likewise go.
Envy about &c.

4

Her pretty ears this Paradise
Do guard without a Gun or sword;
Vertue commands in chief, and vice
Dares not approch though in a word.
Her neck doth seem the milky way
Unto the Tempe of her breast,
Where two fine hills nipples display,
Like two suns rising east and west.
Envy about &c.

5

Her lovely hands (when they do stir
Through motion she unto them lends)
Add several graces unto her,
And beauty shake at fingers ends.
These are her glories that we know,
Her envious clothes conceal the rest:
Happy is he that so can woe
As win her to reveal the rest!
Envy about her, &c.

269

6

Let fancy work till she be kind;
And lay her on a bed of Roses,
Terra's incognita's to find,
And it a paradise discloses.
Her belly like a bed of creame
Appears unto our curious eyes,
Upon whose top you may esteem
The Navil like a cherry lies.
Envy about her, &c.

7

Her mountain-thighs we do espy
Cover'd with warm perpetual snow:
Ah what a streight between doth ly,
No Magellan did ever know!
Her neat-made legs forth stretched ly
On sheets resembling a calme Sea,
And (like to Promontories) try
To frame a safe and pleasant Bay.
Envy about her, &c.

8

Her pretty feet like lands-ends seem,
Whose toes likes Fairies do appear
To tempt beholders to esteem
No beauty such, and t'enter there.
Tis like (fair maid) you yet may boast
That trifle cal'd virginity:
How many joyes you then have lost!
Therefore away with such a toy.
Envy about her, &c.

270

9

When you shall gracious be but thus
To meet in groves or amorous beds;
Young Kings and Queens shall envy us,
And we will get new maidenheads:
And when we do refresh awhile,
You like a Princess bride shall rise;
And Art and Nature both shall toyl
To dress you glorious as the skies.
Envy about you shall suppose
No fault, and wonder at your clothes.

The fourteenth song. Emma's answer to William the Conquerour.

1

Great conquerour, you do a wrong
Unto your judgement, to compare
Poor Emma (in your amorous song)
To Ladies so renown'd and fair.
The hair that grows upon my head
I have no cause to glory in;
It is as brown as is my bread,
And can (I hope) tempt none to sin.
My clothes are homely as my form,
I wear them but to keep me warm.

9

My humble eies (when I am up)
To read my office are employ'd,
And unto house-affaires to look,
And not to gaze abroad in pride.

271

I hope no wanton beams they cast
To work to any an unease:
Therefore my nose needs not be plac'd
As Constable to keep the peace.
My clothes are homely, &c.

3

My lips will serve a country wench,
So also will my northern tongue;
It with my heart agrees in sense,
What I think speaking, and no wrong.
My teeth are like to other girls,
Nor even, nor white, but in the mean:
I know they are but bones, not pearls,
And slut I were, were they not clean.
My clothes are homely, &c.

4

My ears will serve to do the part
Which nature did designe them for;
The love of vertue's in my heart,
And to hear lewdness I abhor.
I wonder why my neck you praise;
As other maidens are so 's it:
So is my breast, which I adaies
Use to weare cover'd, as is fit.
My clothes are homely, &c.

5

My hands employ'd in houswifries,
To sow, to spin, or else to card;
Cannot be soft, not being nice,
And 't is no shame to have them hard.

272

Such is poor Emma, and no better,
VVhom (royal Sir) you so commend:
And I beseech you therefore let her
Her poor life in plain truth to end.
My clothes are homely, &c.

6

Let not your fancy be unkind
Unto your self, ill thoughts to raise:
My wearied body at night doth find
A bed of flocks or straw alwaies.
My other parts you please to name
Are ordinary as the rest;
And I in truth do blush for shame
To hear them so by you exprest.
My clothes are homely, &c.

7

I cannot from my tears refrain
To hear you tax virginity:
How many martyr'd virgins reign
In heaven for keeping chastity!
And (in the dark Abyss below)
How many wretched souls do grone,
For slighting here their honour so,
As heathens have far better done!
My clothes are homely, &c.

8

I hope I never shall become
Ungracious in so a high a wise,
To prostitute to any one
A jewel heaven so much doth prize:

273

If I (to please my friends) should wed
To any honest neighbours child,
I am resolv'd the marriage-bed
To keep (my life through) undefil'd.
Though me then better clothes transform,
Ile wear them but to keep me warm.

The fifthteenth Song.

[Here's a Health to a merry old sinner]

1

Here's a Health to a merry old sinner,
A Glass of strong Aquavitæ,
That for a crown and a dinner
Will get you a Wench will delight you.

2

Because that you are not for Ale,
Here's a Health to a Wench in strong Beer;
Although she (like it) be stale,
She may happen to cost you dear.

3

Here's a Health in Ale to your Dear,
That lately hath serv'd in the Kitchin;
A bouncing Wastcoteer,
A remedy for your itching.

4

Here's a Health to the Earls fine daughter,
In Rhenish with Lemmon and Suggar,
Who (with this well ballanc'd) will after
Give liberty to you to hugge her.

274

5

Unto the Green-sickness Maid
Here's a Health in sparkling White,
Though yet she be never so staid,
She may alter her mind ere night.

6

Unto the new married wife,
An Health here is in neat Claret;
Though her spouse lead a jealous Life,
And her tongue out-prattles a Parret.

7

To the jovial widdow at last,
An health we will drink in Sack:
Her constitution's in hast,
You may quickly guess what she doth lack.

8

Now you have so freely drunk
Their healths, and merrily round.
Each of you may go to his Punk,
They are yours a mite to a pound.

9

But now I've thought better on't,
Y'ad best to leave drinking and whoring;
For virtue hereafter will vaunt,
When vice shall receive a great scowring,

The sixteenth Song, of two lovers.

[Two lovers lately that for some years space]

1

Two lovers lately that for some years space
Enjoy'd in each others looks an heaven of bliss,

275

Are parted, and have left their usual gaze,
He on her beauties, and she upon his.
Behold what alterations time can raise
In humane breasts, and setled constancies:
Great Love, we do accuse thee of our crime,
And thank for our recovery onely Time.

2

As I have seen a crooked river run
Through Meads and moorish grounds in oblique course,
So slighly stealing as no way it won,
And no intention had to leave the source;
And never roar'd at all till it begun
Into another stream to yield its force:
So no dislike her cunning Fashion show'd,
Till all her Favours she from him bestow'd.

3

Long he her lov'd, and long she lov'd again,
And both did glory in each others heart:
Cupid in each breast kept an equal reign,
A mutual court of joy without all art;
Without dissimulation or disdain,
Without the least offence to either part,
Till a new love possest her yielding mind,
After so long continuing true and kind.

4

He afterwards retreated (as was fit)
Cal'd home his heart, and quench'd the mighty fire,
With drinking Lethe to his former fit,
That had so long enthral'd him to desire.

276

And (generous spirit) that hast conquer'd it,
All hail! And welcome to the sacred Quire
Of Freedoms Temple, where bright Truth discovers,
And laughes at all the follies of all Lovers.

The seventeenth Song. Of a Mistresse.

1

I love a Lass as fair as ere was seen,
Yet have I never seen if she be fair:
Grandees her suitors have and servants been,
And they that wooe her now great Nobles are:
How can I therefore think that she will dain
To look on me? I fear I love in vain.

2

Unto the Beauty which I do so desire
I will make hast, to see how fair she is;
And though I find my betters wooers by her,
I will be bold, and all my thoughts express;
Which when I have done, will she therefore dain
To pity me? I fear I love in vain.

3

Ile tell her that her hairs are golden Twines
Able t'enamour all the Deities;
And that her eyes are two celestial signes,
More glorious then the twelve within the skies.
When I have told her this, will she then dain
To love me too? I fear I love in vain.

277

4

If (when that I have said what I can say,
And made what Protestations I can make)
She will be proud, and coy, and say me Nay,
Though nere so fair, my heart from her Ile take
I will not subject be to her disdain:
The world shall never say I love in vain.

The eighteenth song. Of women.

1

I wonder why by foul-mouth'd men
Women so slander'd be,
Since it so easily doth appear
Th'are better far then we.

2

Why are the Graces every one
Pictur'd as women be,
If not to shew that they in Grace
Do more excell then we?

3

Why are the liberal Sciences
Pictur'd as women be
But t'show (if they would study them)
They'd more excell then we.

4

And yet the Senses every one,
As men should pictur'd be;
To make it known that women are
Less sensual then we.

278

5

Why are the virtues every one
Pictur'd as women be;
If not to shew that they in them,
Do more excell then we?

6

Since women are so full of worth,
Let them all praised be;
For commendations they deserve
In ampler wise then we.

The nineteenth Song.

[You are too proud to love, and are too kind]

[1]

You are too proud to love, and are too kind
To hate: what therefore is your mind?
Think you none worthy of you, 'cause you know
That you should be admired so?
And will you not hate, 'cause you would
Not be a maid when you are old?

2

Though nature hath been liberal in your parts,
And you (for jewels) do wear hearts
If you your self do onely like and love,
You in a wrong sphere for you move.
As you were made to love, beside
So you were made to be enjoy'd.

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The twentieth Song. A Ballad of Darbyshire.

1

Dear Polyhymnie, be
Auspicious unto me,
That I may spread abroad
Our Shires worth in an ode,
Merrily chanting.
They that our Hills do blame,
Have no cause for the same;
Seeing the Muses lye
Upon Parnassus high,
Where no joy's wanting.

2

Upon Olympus Hill
Hebe Heavens cup doth fill:
And love of Candy Isle
Doth the Gods reconcile,
When they do wrangle.
In France at Agincourt
(Where we fought in such sort)
Behind an hill we did
Make our Archers lye hid,
Foes to entangle.

3

The long commanding Rome,
And old Byzantium,
Lisbon in Portugal,
Are situated all

280

Upon Hills strongly:
All therefore that protest
Hilly ground's not the best,
Are of their wits bereav'd,
And all of them deceiv'd,
And censure wrongly.

4

The Peer of England known
Darby's Earldom to own,
Is honour'd by the style
Of King of Mona's Isle
Hereditary.
Why hath Orantus found
A Channel under ground
VVhere t'lye hid, but for shame
VVhen it hears Darwins name,
VVhich Fame doth carry?

5

VVhy do the Nymphs (believe)
Of Nile, it down Rocks drive;
Unless it be for fear
Trents glory should go near
To overgo them?
The Spaw Luick Land hath,
And Sommerset the Bath:
Buxtons (dear County) be
As famous unto thee
As they unto them.

281

6

For King Mausolus Tomb,
Lango's known by each Groom;
And the Campanian Lake
Doth very famous make
Italies confines;
The walls of burned stone
Eternize Babylon:
And the large Devils vault
Doth Darbyshire exalt,
VVherein no sun shines.

7

The Pike to Tennariff
An high repute doth give;
And the Coloss of brass,
VVhere under ships did pass,
Made Rhodes aspire.
Tunbridge makes Kent renown'd,
And Epsome Surryes Ground:
Pools-hole, aud St. Annes VVell
Makes Darbyshire excell
Many a shire.

9

Here on an Hills side steep
Is Elden hole, so deep,
That no man living knowes
How far it hollow goes;
Worthy the knowing.
Here also is a Well
Whose Waters do excell

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All waters thereabout;
Both being in and out
Ebbing and flowing.

9

Here's Lead, whereof is made
Bullets for to invade
Them whose pride doth prevail
So far, as to assail
Our Brittish borders.
Our Lead so much may do,
That it may win Peru;
And (if we chance to meet
A Spanish silver Fleet)
Commit great murthers.

10

Diana's Fane to us
Extolleth Ephesus:
The Sand-hil, and deaf stone,
Do Darbyshire renown,
Worth Admiration.
Windsor Berks doth commend,
And Essex Audley-end:
We of our Chatsworth boast,
A Glory to our coast,
And the whole Nation.

11

Spain doth vaunt of it's Sack,
And France of Claret crack;
Of Rhenish Germany:
And of thy Ale speak free
My gallant County.

283

Now I have made an end,
I wish you to commend
Either the Authors wit,
Or me for singing it,
Out of your bounty.

Song 21.

[Ah me! I have sinned so]

1

Ah me! I have sinned so,
That the thought of it is my woe;
That my eyes
To the skyes,
Nor my prayer
Neither dare
I to lift, but here mourn below.
What therefore, had I best here to sit,
And lament for my faults in unfit
Sorrow? no;
Who doth so,
Spends his fears,
And his tears
All in vain any mercy to get.

2

My soul, mount thou then aloft,
And beseech him tha'st angred so oft:
He easily can
Pardon man,
Being inclin'd
To be kind
With real contrition, and soft.

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What though my many foul transgressions do
Exceed all the stars in our view;
Do overcome
Motes it'h Sun,
And surpass
Blades of grass?
His merits do exceed all these too.

3

His mercies exceed all these,
And all sins wherewith men him displease:
Every sigh
He did give,
Every wound
That is found
On his body could a world release.
And therefore for shame if not for love,
(Yet love is all fear and shame above)
Let us shun
Hell, and run
In heavens way,
Whiles t'is day;
For from thence is no sad remove.