Miscellany Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Long hath the Sacred, Venerable, Name
Of POET (once so highly rais'd by Fame)
Been, nor unjustly, trampled under Feet;
Their Laurels blasted and their Flowers unsweet.
The Virgin Springs and Chaste Pierian Groves
Have been profan'd by Base Incestuous Loves:
Castalian Streams, so Pure in former Times,
Were since Polluted with unhallowed Rhymes:
When Villains durst the Poet's Task invade,
And Shamefull Vice, dress'd up in Masquerade,
Did Heavenly Wit presume to Personate:
While Phœbus and the Nine in Mourning sate.
Then Blushing Vertue never durst appear;
For Gaudy Flatt'ry her Rich Robes did wear.
Affrighted Truth fled the Enchanted Ground:
And Chastity could there no more be found:
False Fiends and Phantomes onely danc'd around.

What Shame and Grief did then our Souls oppress,
To see the Laureate Tribe in such Distress?
Vile Mævius Honour'd, Maro in Disgrace;
Loose Sirens seated in the Muses Place:
Wise Fancy's Sacred Flame extinguish'd quite;
While Ignis Fatuus shew'd a Cheating Light?
All were Asham'd, and All at This did Grieve!—
But Heyrick only could Our Wrongs relieve.

viii

He broke the Charm: He ended all the Spell:
And now th' Obscener Vision's fled to Hell.
Now Genuine Sense, adorn'd with Manly Grace,
Doth shew to Heaven his Lov'd, Majestick, Face:
Now Fancy's various Mantle freely flows;
While Curious Judgment doth her Locks compose,
And braids in Artfull Knots those Tresses fair,
That will the Hearts of Phœbu's Sons ensnare.
Now Charming Wit, which Few before did know,
Walks at Noon-day; doth all her Beauties show,
How Sweet her Looks, how Ravishing her Tongue,
What Heavenly Treasure's in her Artfull Song:
How, while She innocently seeks to Please,
The Ravish'd Soul forgets her old Disease,
And Painless Joys and Endless Pleasures sees.

Thus to the Learned Arugonian King
That Health, which Galen's Art could never bring,
The Charming Curtius kindly did impart,
And Cur'd his Body, when He'd Gain'd his Heart.

Here wisely-flowing Eloquence disdains
To be confin'd, but in Poetick Chains:
Sweet are the Bonds, that tye the Soul to Sense:
And scope allow for All things, but Offence!

Here Various Learning doth her Wealth disclose,
And All, that's worth our Knowledge, freely shows:
All Nature's Secrets offers to our View,
Far more, than Watry Proteus ever knew:
Thô He Great Neptune's scaly Herds doth keep
Well-vers'd in All the Wonders of the Deep.

For Heyrick's boundless and unwearied Mind
To this our Upper World can't be confin'd;
But ransacks Thetis's Bosom and explores
Her Inmost Caverns and her Utmost Shores,

And strangely doth the Vast Abyss contain
Within the Vaster Ocean of his Brain.

All, that was ever Writ, or Done, or Said,
Well hath He understood and well survey'd:
Pierian Tempe, where Apollo Reigns,
And Spacious History's Delightfull Plains,
And Heaven and Earth's far-distant Regions lie
Conspicuous to his Sharp, Sagacious, Eye.

Nor yet meer Knowledge doth his Verse bestow;
But, as We're Wiser, makes Us Better grow:
With Moral Use it smooths Rough Nature's Face,
And Human Art with Heavenly Sense doth grace:
Vertue in every Lineament doth shine:
Gross the Materials, but the Form Divine.

Yet, when my Heyrick would advance a Strain
Too High for All, that doth on Earth remain,
No Female Vanity, nor Lordly Ape,
Nor Wealthy Ignorance, nor Witless Shape,
Bespeak his Muse:—But up aloft She flies,
And views Bright VERTUE with undazled Eyes:
On Vertue onely She delights to Gaze;
To Vertue onely gives Deserved Praise:
For onely Vertue, and (which is the same,)
Great RUTLAND, can his Panegyricks claim;
Chast GAINSBOROW, and the Heavenly BRIDGET'S Name.

Joshua Barnes. Emmanuel Coll. Cambridge Novemb. 24. 1690.

To my Ingenious Friend Mr. Heyrick, Author of the Submarine Voyage.

I.

Long I in Darkness, by false Meteors led,
Have blindly follow'd Truth, that from me fled:
Long have pursu'd the harsh and rugged Road,
Where Shakespear and Great Ben before me trod:
Yet now, Dear Friend, in vain I find,
I did th' Infatuating Fire pursue;
It onely did amuse my Mind,
And Me thrô Mists and Labyrinths drew:
Dully thrô thick and thin I wander'd on,
O're Denham's, Suckling's, Waller's Poems ran;
And vainly thought my self well Blest,
When I a while in Cleaveland's Shade could rest;
And at his Fountain quench my Thirst:
Or stretch'd my self along that Current's side,
Which with a Natural Force
Directs its Course,
And all o're Cowley's Odes Divine doth glide.
Cowley, who first some faint Discovery made
Of Pindar's unknown Shore:
Who first did with Anacreon trade,
And came home laden with Wit's sparkling Ore.
But You a more adventurous Course have ta'ne,
Which You alone were able to maintain
He dabled in the Straits of Wit, You lanch'd into the Main.

II.

Tell me, what Muse Your Fancy doth in inspire
That I may now invoke the same?

Or lend to Me Your Tunefull Lyre,
That I due Honours may proclaim;
And while Your Praises I make known,
May Propagate my Own;
And grow Immortal in the Mouth of Fame.
Lend me, O lend Your Quill,
Or Pardon, if against Your Will
I boldly do intrude
Among the numerous Multitude,
That to the Press with You do crowd.
In Pompous Dress You walk before in State,
And take Your Place in high Apollo's Court;
While We, th' Inspired of the lower Sort,
Pay our Attendance at the Gate.

III.

On Your Officious Dolphin's Back
Thrô the vast Floods of Time I'le safely break:
Safely shall o're Oblivion ride
And stem th' Impetuous Current of her Tyde.
The fam'd Arion so had once been lost
And perish'd in the watry Brine,
Had not some Dolphin, kind like thine,
Convey'd him to the Coast.
Oh! that my Numbers were like His; that I,
Supported on Your Friendly Fin,
An unfrequented Voyage so might try,
Thrô Pearly, Chrystal, Paths might creep,
And sound the hidden Secrets of the Deep.
To Neptune's Palace might resort,
View all his Riches, all his Store,
Of Precious Gems and Golden Ore,
And wanton with his Beauteous Nymphs at Court.

xii

IV.

What mighty Labour, mighty Pains
Some Poets take to wrack their Brains?
Small is their Wit, and much more small their Gains.
One treads the Lofty Stage
To please the Humours of a vicious Age:
In Satyr there Another doth delight
That Malice, more than Praise, doth move.
Another softer Lays doth write,
And sweats and travels in the Roads of Love.
But Your more Usefull Muse
Wisely another Way doth chose;
In mighty Numbers sings
Of mighty Secrets, mighty Things:
Things, that are worthy of Your Generous Mind,
And advantagious unto all Mankind.

V.

You hidden Knowledge from the Deep do take,
As Albemarle redeem'd the Golden Wreck.
With so much Fancy all Your Truths are joyn'd,
So Gentle and so Sweet they goe,
So smoothly Ebb, so smoothly Flow,
At once they charm the Hearing, and instruct the Mind.
In ev'ry Line Your Genius is exprest,
In ev'ry Word is found a lively Taste
Both of the Poet and the Priest.
You in Your swift Poetick Flight
Sometimes do soar to a stupendious Height:
Sometimes do not disdain
To Dive into the Main.
Your Odes may properly be stil'd Divine;
That both Cælestial are and Submarine.

xiii

VI.

Judgement, and Love, what would ye doe?
Whither my willing Fancy drive?
In vain You whip, in vain You strive,
In vain our Poet's Praise pursue:
So Bigg it looks, it's plac'd so High,
No human Art Access can find;
We scarce can reach it with our Mind:
No Quill can to its Distance fly,
And Language laggs behind.
No wonder then, if sunk beneath her Load
My Muse declines the Road.
'Tis You alone to praise Your self are fit,
But innate Modesty is so
Predominant in You,
It bridles up Your Tongue and curbs Your Wit.

VII.

And yet, if I like Dædalus could fly
And soar with artfull Wings above the Sky:
Like him, could quit that deep and horrid Shade,
Shake off those Chains
That clog my Brains,
Which Tyrant Dulness hath upon me laid:
I'de cut the yeilding Regions of the Air,
And o're Your Islands, o're Your Ocean steer,
And view those watry Secrets, You have made so clear.
And thô perchance in my Pindarick Flight,
Rais'd to a too-ambitious Height,
The Fate of Icarus should prove my Doom;
And angry Phœbus melt my waxen Plume:
Yet mine a much more glorious Lot would be,
Whilst gently I should drop into Your Sea,
Nor give the drowning Flood a Name, but take my Name from Thee.

William Tunstall.

xiv

To his Ingenious Friend, and Brother-Angler Mr. Thomas Heyrick on his Submarine Voyage, &c.

I.

How oft, where winding Rivers smil'd,
As they thrô flowry Meadows plaid;
Where Innocence and Pleasure made their Seat,
Secure, thô Low, and Happy, thô not Great,
Have we the well-spent Hours beguil'd?
Drank draughts of Joys, no bitter Griefs allay'd,
No Disappointments did invade?
Joys, Pure, as pearly Drops from Fountains rise,
Clear, as the Chrystal Streams, that charm'd our Eyes.
Free, as the Choristers of the Neighbouring Groves,
That in melodious Airs tun'd forth their Loves.
Smooth, as the Azure Heaven around us spread,
Or stealing Rills, that not one Murmur made.
No busie Fiends our Souls possess'd,
No dire Ambition seiz'd our Breast,
But fair Content lap'd up our Souls in Rest:
Not Eastern Monarchs half so blest!
Above vexatious Thoughts of being Great,
Contented with our Watry Sphear,
(For som times too a Rural Muse was there)
We rul'd our Fortune, and commanded Fate.

II.

These Happy Times are gone! Your tow'ring Mind
To such low Stations could not be confin'd,
You lanch'd into the Main, and left us far behind.

“Follow me Friends (You cry'd) where Honour calls us on,
“And where Rewards our Industry will crown.
“The Gallant Mind new Continents descries,
“And Learned Souls make new Discoveries,
“While sordid Moles hugg their ignoble Ease.
“The Bounds of the Dull Stagyrite wee'l pass,
“Leave his dark hints behind:
“His Course Euripus's narrow Streams confin'd,
“And swallow'd up his fluctuating Mind.
“We'll rifle Virgin-undiscover'd Seas,
“That may the Learned and Ambitious please,
“That will with Knowledge and with Gold abound;
“Till doubly We
“Are with Victorious and with Learned Laurels crown'd,
“And rule, what Kings fight to command, the Sea.
You spake,—but We were Deaf with Fear:
(For Fear and Sloth no brave Advice will hear)
Some laid in Ease refus'd to stirr,
Some the Sea's Surface did deterr:
The Boldest onely by the Shore durst creep,
And You alone did stem the Terrours of the Deep.
We now too late our Cowardise deplore,
See You return'd with envy'd Store;
While We, (the due Reward of Sloth) are Poor.

III.

The Sea's now truly Free, You made it so;
Did thrô all Parts of that vast Empire go,
Nor miss'd one dark Recess.
Th' Ocean's no longer unconfin'd,
Nor the Sea Bottomless;
Nothing lies hid to Your inquisitive Mind.
Not where the Sea-Nymphs dance and play,
Not where their weari'd Limbs they lay

xvi

Extended like a Love-sick Maid,
When she in pleasant Dreams doth grasp a Shade,
And wakes and sighs, because She is betray'd:
Not where the Jolly Tritons do resort
To talk of Love, of Business, or of Sport,
Where Phœbus blushing-red with Love, or Toil.
Doth hurry down the Western Hill,
To his Enjoyment, or his Rest,
T'unbend his Cares upon fair Thetis's Breast:
Or where Great Neptune doth his Amphitrite Court.
Nor can We tell, but You,
Who did so many Secrets know,
Some Sea-Nymph might, or Goddess, woe
And have your Assignations too below.

IV.

Pleasure and Learning in Your Muse are joyn'd:
You Doubly gratifie the Mind,
Delightfully and Profitably Kind.
To th' Curious World an History You give,
Which by no other Means We could receive;
(For all th' Inhabitants are Dumb below)
Which, as You've made That Great, will make You Live;
While Fishes cut the Waves, or Waves themselves do flow.
The Mighty Whales and Regal Dolphins there
Grow Big and Braver from your Artfull Pen;
The Uranoscopus forgets the Sphear,
And Charm'd by You begins to look on Men:
All Neptune's Court You've open'd to our View,
Adorn'd with Orient Pearl and Burnish'd Gold,
His Guard of Tritons and the Scaly Crew,
That in the watry Plains their Revels hold:
Which Glorious Objects do our Eyes detain,
While You our Souls do steal with your surprising Strain.

xvii

But surely, while those Depths You sweetly sing,
And charming Verse from the Abyss do bring
Such, as might rock the rattling Winds asleep,
And smooth the Angry Furrows of the Deep:
While Venus-like Your Lovely Muse doth rise
From Seas; and Storms themselves have something, doth surprise;
No single Name can all these Wonders shew,
But now You are Arion and the Dolphin too.

V.

Your fatal Knowledge Neptune grieves in vain,
Laments, that e're he let a Spy
With treacherous Skill survey the watry Plain,
See where his Forts and Magazines do lie,
And (what Invasion tempts) his Treasury.
In vain the Indians do deplore
The Spaniards first Arrival on their Shore:
Once found, they were to all a Prey,
Discove'ry op'd to Slavery a way.
So doth a gloomy Fate hang o're the Sea,
If any dare so Hardy be
To trace the Steps of Your Discovery.
Such Difficulties overcome, we know,
Your Mind can't be confined long below:
Neptune already doth the Knowledge fear,
And's Brother Jove must doubly guard his Sphear.
A Dolphin You did through the Ocean goe,
And now a Bird of Paradise You'll be,
And all the Secrets o'th' Celestial Empire see.

Theophilus Judd of St. John's College Cambridge. Ribworth Septem. xi. 1690.

xviii

To Mr. Heyrick on his Excellent Poems.

I

Nature , from whose Indulgent Hand
We all, that we esteem, do take,
Doth Costly Births of Worthless Matter make:
Doth Noble Forms upon them lay:
The charming Visions rise at her Command
Though their Materials be but Dust and Clay.
You greater Wonders to the World impart;
Your Learned Pen exceeds her Best of Art.
Her shapeless Chaos You anew Create,
Her Meanest Subjects from Your Wit grow Great
Mortall, Imperfect, all her Products are:
Deathless You render them, and in Perfection Fair.

II

The Proud Pellæan Youth, that cry'd—
Had rav'd,—More Worlds for to subdue,
Had he liv'd now, t'have been outdone by You.
Who scorn the Bounds, that Him confin'd,
Pass o're the Rubicon, his Arms defi'd,
And please with Wonders of the Deep Your Mind.
You once-Renowned Drake's Great Acts outdo;
He the Gulph's Surface, You its Bottom, view.
Bold Curtius's Deed with Yours runs Parallel;
Who scorn'd the Acherontick Jaws of Hell!
Both leap'd the Gulph, Both to the Gods were Dear;
You best-Belov'd, whom They and Ravenous Seas did spare.

xix

III

Who then am I; that dare devise
With my Unhallowed Verse to come,
Where Nobler Muses are with Wonder Dumb?—
In vain We strive to praise the Sun
Whose Worth above Expression's Power doth rise;
And's best by silent Adoration shown.—
The Mighty B****s can onely sing Your Praise,
The Tunefull B****s, just Partner of Your Bays!
Great Homer's far-sung Fame to Him is due,
And Pindar's Song does seem reviv'd in You:
And surely He, that would such Worth comprise,
Must have a Soul, like Yours, Great, Boundless, Sharp & Wise.

George Walker of Emmanuel College in Cambridge.

To the Author on his Ingenious Submarine Voyage.

ODE.

I.

Sages of old how vainly we admire!
How fond's our Dotage on Antiquity!
Thô their Short Sights could nought descry
Unobvious to each Vulgar Eye;
The Idol'd Stagirite could rise no Higher
Than the thin Notion of Hecceity:

When his more Prying Wit to' Euripus flew,
Its Famous Ebbs to view,
His Weaker Eyes
Us'd to the Dark Recess of Occult Qualities,
Could not Sustain Truth's Glaring Light,
Dazl'd with the Bright Miracle, He cry'd,
O Wondrous unintelligible Tide!
In what Dark Coverings art Thou involv'd,
Not by Entelechy's or Acts resolv'd?
Why do I on its Fruitless Surface gaze?—
Guide Me some Triton thrô its Wandring Maze,
Take Me (He cry'd) and with an Eager Leap
Plunges into the Swelling Deep.
Yet the Philosopher no Triton found,
But in the Rapid Stream was Drown'd:
What Fruitless Tryals then would He have made,
Had He the Boundless Depth essay'd!

II.

We'll no more Trophies to Columbus raise,
Nor to Vesputius's stollen Praise:
Too much We prize
Their mean Discoveries.
What has their Pregnant Wits brought forth
In the Long-expected Birth,
Beside the dull reiterated Scene of Earth?
Hurried by Storms, the unsought Ground
They rather Hapned on, than Found:
Those Random Gusts the Praise must have,
For a small Share our forc'd Discoverers can crave,
Who only were by Mechanism brave.
They in a Blind Neglect past by
Natures Great Excellence, Variety;

xxi

They could Discover nought worth Wonder there,
When Wafted round its Chrystal Hemisphere.
Whilst Your more prying Eye
Could not upon its Surface terminate,
Nor could the Loudest Storms Your Zealous Search abate.
You thrô Mæandrous Caverns fearless rove,
Discerning plainly in their Cause
The Ocean's so-surprising Laws;
While We above
Blind with Amazement do in vain,
Strive by Effects t'unfold the Cause's endless Train.
You Neptune's Magazine have well survey'd,
And thro's Whole Watry Realm a Progress made.
Sure by some Amorous Syren in Your way
You were the Charms of Language taught;
She did impart
With her Best Skill the Gracefull Art,
And by that Bribe would Mutual Flames have bought.

III.

The Mariner no more will Nature cruel call,
Thô He on Quicksands fall;
Thô Threatning Billows beat,
That on Sharp Rocks He split:
For taught by You none can a Shipwrack fear,
Thô Circumstantially Severe:
Since Sinking only does a Voyage prove
Into far Richer Scenes of Life, than these above
Go on, Bold Wit, and add to Nature's store,
All Her dark Nooks with curious search look o're:
Now into Her Remotest Corners pry,
And let no Lurking World escape Your Eye.
Rove thrô all Regions of the Sky,

xxii

And with some Agile crowd,
People that Vast Capacious Solitude:
Find where the Promptuary's of Fire are stow'd,
And in that Supermundial Heat
Room for some Cold Inhabitants create,
Search Nature thrô; till We no Blanks can see,
But find Her stretcht into Infinity.

Lancelot Manning, B. A. of Trinity College in Cambridge.

MISCELLANY POEMS.

On the Right Honourable John Earl of Rutland, &c.

Off-spring of Hero's! Who art truly Great,
Above the reach of pleas'd, or angry, Fate;
And equally dost scorn her smile and hate.
In Innocence and Vertuous Courage safe,
Above the World, You at its Troubles laugh:
Nor can its Pageantry attract your Eyes;
You fear not one, and th' other You despise.
A Life like this did Atticus commend,
The pride of glorious Rome and Tully's Friend,
Who 'n Rome none of its Civil wars did feel,
With no Commotions of the State did reel,
But in the world scarce with the World did deal.
“'Tis the world's Imperfection still to want,
“And satisfaction, nor to have, nor grant;
“But with incessant pains to tear the Breast,
“And beg of every helpless Cause for rest.
Angelick Natures our weak state exceed,
Their Purity's from taint of Matter freed,
Their Knowledge no increase or growth doth need.
In this they most show our confined store;
They are so happy, they can wish no more.
Ambition is the Feaverish Soul's disease,
Which restless seeks for something, that may please.

About with them their Malady they bear,
And wheresoe're they fly, they find it near,
And grope for help around and grasp the Air.
“Content's not there: He that doth strive for more
“Doth live uneasie with his present store.
“The wise Man doth Retirement's pleasures know,
“And's never less alone, than when he's so.
Fools are for nothing fit; the Middle Size
Drive on the Business of the world and Noise;
The Highest Souls to Nobler pleasures rise.
Out of the reach of Fortune they are plac'd,
Draughts of Sublime Æthereal Joys do tast,
Whom no Misfortunes break, nor Time doth wast
So Adam in his Paradise did live,
Bless'd in himself and his beloved Eve.
Er'e Glory drew unwary Eyes aside,
Er'e Gold did or'e the servile Troops preside:
And to all Mischief ope'd a passage wide.
Er'e glittering Courts Mens yielding Minds did sway,
Did all their tender precious Hours betray;
Whose loss not all their hopes and golden dreams could pay.
Er'e Men their Ease barter'd for Gold or State,
And sold themselves at an Unworthy rate:
Er'e Vice on Innocency's Tomb did grow:—
Such is Your Life, and such a Paradise have You.
Who in Your Self find Native Inborn store,
Nor from the World do need to borrow more:
For he, that wants, thô ne'r so rich, is poor.
A scheme of Life, like Yours, Lucretius laid,
(Whose Boundless Wit all Nature's works survey'd)
And fitted to th' Immortal Gods, he made:
He gave them what would most Divinely please;
And lull'd them up in bless'd Content and Ease.

To the Right Honourable Katherine Countess of Rutland.

The Cautious Heathens, er'e they would admit
Their Poets of their Deities to treat,
First at their Altars made them Homage pay,
And purge their Dross and looser Strains away:
That the Exalted Purified mind
Might Notions fit for Heavenly Beings find.
So the bold Artist, that of You would speak,
Should Patterns from Celestial Natures take;
And stamp his Soul in an Angelick Mold;
Er'e he Your Vertues should attempt to' unfold.
In highest Sciences we words do want;
Expressions, that may give our Notions vent:
Thus Rhet'rick dumb at Your Perfections grows;
Our Language then, that 'tis defective, shows.
And thô those Flowers, which other Tongues refine,
She doth unto her Treasures wisely join;
All's yet too low for Subjects so Divine.
Homer the Language of the Heavens could tell,
Mysterious Secrets of the Gods reveal:
He that, how Good, or Great You are, would show,
Had need the Depth of Heavenly wisdom know:
For all we deal with here doth flag too low.
Angels the Mighty work should undertake,
And shew what Words they for such Merits make.

Had You liv'd in those Fabulous Ages, when
The Heavenly Seats held Colonies of Men;
When every Spark of Worth or Mounting Fire
Durst up into a Deity aspire;

What Deities had Your Perfections showd,
How many from Your Single Worth had flow'd?
Each Vertue had a God or Goddess given,
And You could from Your Self have peopled Heaven.
Nor to this Age alone extends Your Fame,
The Times to come shall spread Your Glorious Name.
And wheresoer'e the Name of MANNERS flies,
(A Name that doth all Excellence comprize)
As down the Ages it doth pass along,
You'l be the Subject of their Gratefull song:
And with Your Beauteous Offspring fix it fast,
Coëval with the World and Time to last.
And as Great Cæsar's haughty Name did come
Successively to all, that govern'd Rome;
Your Name, like Incence, shall descend to story,
And be the Age's Bliss and Sexe's Glory.
And all, whose Generous Breasts aspire to Fame,
With decent boldness shall assume Your Name,
Which in all Ages shall be understood
Significant for what is Great or Good.
Had but the Early Centuries, that could find
The Vertues and the Graces Woman-kind,
Seen the Fair Draughts of Your Celestial Mind:
New Sexes to their Deities they 'had given,
Nor left one Single God to rule in Heaven.

On the Lord Roos, Eldest Son of the Earl of Rutland.

When common Work for Painters hands doth call,
Rude artless Draughts do from their Pencils fall;

Adapted to the judgment of the Crowd,
No Dancing Life doth make the Members proud:
But when a Celebrated Piece doth sit,
For Wisdom known, for Beauty, or for Wit;
The artfull strokes do Life and Vigor breathe,
And steal an Immortality from Death.
So Nature, when the Common Herd she makes,
Rough worthless Matter from base Rubbish takes:
Careless in any Shape she molds the Clay,
No Beauteous Characters thereon doth lay:
To the Dull lump no cost she doth impart,
Course the Materials and as course the Art.
But when some Godlike Birth she would improve,
That draws his Sparkling Line from Thundring Jove:
With her bright Seal she stamps him for her own,
In dazling Hieroglyphicks writes him down.
For's Body takes Materials, fair as those,
That do the Mass of Common Soul's compose:
Fills it with every Vertue, every Grace,
And heavenly Beauties in the Mind doth place:
Vertues, that soar far above Common ken,
Known but to Angels, and Seraphick Men!

So Nature, Princely Youth, with you did deal,
With Excellence did Soul and Body fill:
And that it might not Casual appear,
A Turn of Greatness and a Generous Air,
A shining Spirit thrô the Whole did bear.
Rays, such as crown the Gods, o're all did fly,
And every thing did breathe Divinity.
Others with tedious steps to Vertue rise.
Break to 't thrô crowds of pressing Enemies:
Must violence on headstrong Nature lay,
Unhinge the Passions, er'e they will obey:

Which, like tame Lions, if not rul'd by Art,
Will back into their Natural wildness start:
Like Countries, that but newly are subdu'd,
Will soon rebell and cast off Servitude.

Your Happy Mind inherent Vertue bears,
The Gift of Heaven and of Your Ancesters.
Others attain't; an Habit 'tis in You,
What others do to Pains and Culture owe,
In Your Great Mind doth Naturally grow.
Your Family's Vertues so upon You wait,
It doth the Question put beyond debate,
That Parents Children's Souls do generate.
Grant blessed Heaven, Your Worth mayn't fatal be;
Nor too soon purchase Immortality!—
And when Your Wisdom and Your Worth are known,
To th' world Your Candor and Your Goodness shown:
And when those Vertues, that to Age belong,
Shall in Your Youthfull Breast be found to throng:
Let not too soon bless'd Souls for You make room,
Nor Death believe You old and sign Your doom.

On an Indian Tomineios, the Least of Birds.

I

Im'e made in sport by Nature, when
Shee's tir'd with the stupendious weight
Of forming Elephants and Beasts of State;
Rhinocerots, that love the Fen;
The Elkes, that scale the hills of Snow,
And Lions couching in their awfull Den:
These do work Nature hard, and then

Her wearied Hand in Me doth show,
What she can for her own Diversion doe.

II

Man is a little World ('tis said)
And I in Miniature am drawn,
A Perfect Creature, but in Short-hand shown.
The Ruck, in Madagascar bred,
(If new Discoveries Truth do speak)
Whom greatest Beasts and armed Horsemen dread,
Both Him and Me one Artist made:
Nature in this Delight doth take,
That can so Great and Little Monsters make.

III

The Indians me a Sunbeam name,
And I may be the Child of one:
So small I am, my Kind is hardly known.
To some a sportive Bird I seem,
And some believe me but a Fly;
Thô me a Feather'd Fowl the Best esteem:
What er'e I am, I'me Nature's Gemm;
And, like a Sunbeam from the Sky,
I can't be follow'd by the quickest Eye.

IV

I'me the true Bird of Paradise,
And heavenly Dew's my only Meat:
My Mouth so small, 'twill nothing else admit.
No Scales know how my weight to poise,
So Light, I seem condensed Air;
And did at th' End of the Creation rise,
When Nature wanted more Supplies,
When she could little Matter spare,
But in Return did make the work more Rare.

Claudian's Eagle.

The Eagle doth not let his Eaglets rove,
Till th' Sun doth their Legitimacy prove.
When kindly heat doth the ripe Brood reveal,
And swelling Births do break the tender shell;
He turns his unfledg'd Off-spring to the sky,
And bids them look on Heaven with daring Eye.
Well the discerning Rays he views, to see
What will their Nature, Strength and Vigor be.
The Spurious Bird, that can't the Sunbeams bear,
His Father's Talons do in pieces tear:
But He, that views the Sun with daring sight,
Nor shrinks at, what dazzles all else, the Light;
Nurs'd up with love becomes his Father's Heir
Destin'd the mighty Thunderer to bear.

The Fisherman and Treasure.

Beneath a shade, that overlook'd a Sea,
To whom a Chrystal stream did Homage pay,
A Fisher, arm'd with skill and patience, stood,
Whose Age bespoke him Native of the flood:
By' whose Antick look and garb the Fish deceiv'd,
Him but a Tree's poor leafless Trunk believ'd:
Round whom the credulous Fry did fearless play,
While he with Specious baits did them betray.
It happ'd, as he his quiet Art employ'd,
Which him with Sport and Livelihood suppli'd;
Something far off did on a Billow ride:

And as he watch'd his Quill with patient care,
The moving Waves had brought the body near.
A lovely Youth, perhaps some Virgin's flame,
Perhaps his Father's joy, that should uphold his Name,
With mournfull Miene, to beg a Burial came.
The Aged Fisher the sad Object view'd
And doubly him with briny Tears bedew'd.

“Death makes a dreadfull change! perhaps (said he)
“Thou mightst the Favourite of some Monarch be:
“Nothing is spar'd by Death or by the Sea.
“Perhaps, said he, some Love-sick Maid doth wait
“Thy safe return, nor dreams of thy sad fate;
“Counts every Moment of thy tedious stay,
“And thinks each hour an Age doth bear away!
“To our own doom we'r Ignorant and blind,
“Much less, what haps to distant friends, can find.
“Perhaps—alas, what may not we suppose;
“And yet what thoughts shall we in errour loose?
“Time past lyes hid, as well as Time to come,
“And we of both in vain enquire the doom.
“Physiognomists pretend events to tell,
“But can't, what hapned to the dead, reveal:
“Both unintelligible Mysteries ly,
“What hath been, or what future times shall be.
“That which is sure, is, thou dost want a Grave,
“The resting place indulgent Nature gave,
“That, which the Rich with all their Treasures buy,
“Nor Mother Earth doth to the Poor deny,
“Where Kings and Peasants, Spades and Scepters ly.
“Thy restless Soul wanders in devious ways,
“Not suffered the Stygian Lake to pass;
“While thy cold Members dance upon the Sea,
“And thy unburied Corps a prey doth ly.
“There is a debt we owe to all Mankind,

“Not to Relations or to Friends confin'd:
“The whole World in our kindness claims a share,
“And every One in need demands our Care.
“Thou nothing needest, and dost nothing crave,
“But, what's in all Mens power to give, a Grave.
“Riches I've none, nor dost thou need them now,
“That which I have I freely will bestow,
“A Grave is the last Favour I can show.

The Gods the Aged Man's intention heard,
And, that his piety they might reward,
Where he a Grave with trembling Members made,
A mass of Treasure underneath convey'd.
Vertue, that seldom her Reward doth gain,
But cloath'd in Rags despised doth remain,
While gilded Vice in costly State doth Reign,
Rich now by th' gift of Bounteous Heaven doth grow;
Who to th' mistaken World design'd to show,
What is to Piety and Vertue due.

On the Lady Bridget Noel.

Wonder of Nature! never yet
So bright a Soul and fair a Body met,
A Jewell worthy such a Cabinet:
Nature her gifts us'd wisely to dispence,
And with good Miene supply the Want of sence.
In You the stores of Wit and Beauty meet,
This Decks your Face, and that your Mind:
Heaven's Treasures are in You combin'd,
And every God with gifts your Birth did greet.

II

Angels to You do brag they'r kin,
Whose Soul doth thrô your Chrystal body shine;
And what appears without comes from within.
Your Body such, as Goddesses put on;
When they to meet their Earthly Loves come down.
Nature on You hath Lavish'd all her store,—
A Dearth of Beauty must succeed,
And Fools revolving Years must breed;
For She, that hath given all, can give no more.

Hippomenes and Atalanta.

When young Hippomenes beheld the place,
The ground, on which was run the fatal Race,
Where Atalanta should the Victor grace:
And saw their Members scatter'd o're the plain,
Whom Fate ordain'd to Love and to be slain;
Who paid their Life which in the Race did yield,
By fair, but cruell, Atalanta kill'd.—
“Is this the sole Reward, great Love, he cry'd,
“That doth to thy unhappy Slaves betide?
“Are these the Deities we must adore;
“That thus delight themselves in humane gore?
“If i'th the Æthereal Plains such Monsters be,
“Heaven shall be uninhabited for me.
“My bleeding Country shall my Aid demand,
“My Friend in danger shall require my hand,
“Actions like these beget a glorious Name,
“If i'th attempt I die, I die with Fame.
“These mangled Limbs were Men, that by their Hands
“Might have gain'd Crowns and conquer'd foreign Lands.

“But Love betray'd them,—Low in dust they sleep,
“And Ignominy o're their Names doth creep.
“They throve by War, were by soft Love undone,
“They well knew how to stand, but not to run.
“Hence then for ever I abjure the flame.—
—But as he spoke, fair Atalanta came.—
A Bearded shaft did thrô his Liver dart:
And throbbing pain went tingling to his heart.
Silence seal'd up his lips, the fight took place,
The Valiant Heart bow'd to the charming Face.
Th' expanded Organ greedily receiv'd
Those piercing Looks, that him of rest bereav'd.
A secret Warmth thrô every Vein did glide,
And his Blood flow'd in an unusual tide.
In's Mind thoughts of untasted Joys did move
And sunk insensibly his Soul to Love.
His hardned Resolutions now expire,
And melt like rigid Ice before the Fire.
He now rejects the vows he once did make,
And thus, quite chang'd, his Words in Raptures brake.
“Pardon, great Love, a Criminal, that ne're knew
“What was to Thee, or Atalanta due.
“And you (bless'd Souls) whom Love and Beauty slew,
“I'll either Conquer, or make One of You.
“In bold Attempts 'tis gallant even to dare,
“For thô we miss the Prize, we Honour share.
“Show me the Post—I with Impatience dy,—
“My eager Love will double strength supply;
“And in the Race what warmth my breast will heat,
“To save a Life, and Atalanta get:
“All that I fear is, lest my throbbing heart,
“From her fair side unwillingly will part:
“It will be Lead, when it from Her is gone,
“Nor can I from so great a Treasure run.

“But if, at worst, the Fates my Bliss withstand,
“'Twill be worth while to perish by her Hand.
“For since we once must yield to Destiny,
“By such an Angel who'd not wish to dy?
“Her Eyes can cure the wounds, her fair Hand gave,
“One Look of hers can ransom from the grave.

The Honourable Grazier.

The Roman Heroes, that the World subdu'd
Both by their Candor and their Fortitude;
Did with their Arms as usefull Arts put on,
And Govern'd all by Moderation.
Conquer'd themselves, and then for Rule were fit;
Masters at Home, and then made All submit.
The spirit of Magistracy could put on,
And could without resentment lay it down.
Could in all states an even Temper show,
This day Dictator and the next at Plow.

So calmly you did bear the change of State,
Steer'd right the dangerous Ship of being Great,
Not swell'd with empty Gales of flattering Fate.
And when that needfull Maxims you did call,
From thence you gently did descend, not fall.
Your great Soul less employments stoop'd to bear,
As Gods sometimes to earthly seats repair.
Fate rules mean Souls, the brave do Fate command,
Who still unmov'd on their own Basis stand.
And should the World in pieces break, and all
The shatter'd ruines in one Tempest fall;
No fear could from the rowling Mountains rise,
Nor could their Innocence admit surprize.

“Tis the great Good, that we from Vertue gain;
“Unmov'd in all Earth's changes to remain!

On a Peacock.

I

Thou foolish Bird, of Feathers proud,
Whose Lustre yet thine Eyes ne're see:
The gazing Wonder of the Crowd,
Beauteous, not to thy self, but Me!
Thy Hellish Voice doth those affright,
Whose Eyes were charmed at thy sight.

II

Vainly thou think'st, those Eyes of thine
Were such as sleepy Argus lost;
When he was touch'd with rod Divine,
Who late of Vigilance did boast.
Little at best they'll thee avail,
Not in thine Head, but in thy Tayl.

III

Wisemen do forward look to try
What will in following Moments come:
Backward thy useless Eyes do ly,
Nor do enquire of future doom.
“Nothing can remedy what's past;
“Wisedom must guard the present cast.

IV

Our Eyes are best employ'd at home,
Not when they are on others plac'd:
From thine but little good can come,
Which never on thy self are cast:

What can of such a Tool be made?
A Tayl well-furnish'd, but an empty Head.

On a Flea presented to a Lady, whose Breast it had bitten, in a Golden Wire, Extempore. 1679.

(by Mr. Joshua Barnes.)

—Here, Madam, take this Humble Slave,
Once vile,—But, since your blood is in him, Brave!
I saw him surfet on your Lovely Breast;
And snatch'd the Traytor from that precious Feast.
For his Attempt sure He by me had dy'd;
But the respect, I bore your Blood deny'd.
The Gods forbid, fair Madam, that by me
Your Blood be shed althô in this poor Flea!—
'Twas Sacrilege in him those Drops to draw;
But now that Treasure in his skin doth ly,
It consecrates his Life and strikes an awe;
That no bold Nayl dare make the Traytor dy.
Nay if a Quaff of Nectar once could make
Mankind Immortal, as the Poets feign,
This Flea can never dy for that Drops sake,
Which he hath suck'd, sweet Madam, from your Vein.
At least—no human Power his life can spill,
(Which lyes in your pure blood, that can't decay:)
But You, whose Property's to save and kill,
As you did lend that Blood, may take't away.
Then lo!—this Royal Slave in chains of Gold,
Here I submit most humbly to your doom:
Either let Mercy him your Prisoner hold,
Or let your Ivory Nayl prepare his Tomb!

Oh! could he speak, I'm sure the Wretch would crave
A Prisoner's life, to be confin'd with You:
Nay he could be content to meet his Grave;
If by your Hand death might to him accrue.
Go, happy Flea! for now to One you go,
Gives Bliss, if She's your Friend, and Glory, if your Foe!

On an Ape.

I

This Creature, that our Scorn doth grow,
Whose Actions we with laughter see,
Of Reason doth resemblance show,
And follows us with pleasing Mimickry:
It aims at Wit; a Man would grow;
And would be Rational, if it knew how.

II

'Tis more than We to Angels can;
Their Deeds we cannot Imitate:
We'er after all Endeavours Man;
Nor can we even in Shadow change our state:
Nor what they are, or what they doe,
Can we but even in Show attain unto.

III

Trifles our anxious Heads do fill,
Which this bless'd Creature trouble not:
Quarrels thence flow, the Cause of ill,
While Unconcern'dness is his happy Lot.
He is our Scorn, and much more W
The Scorn or Pitty may of Angels be.

IV

Like Man ambitiously he acts,
While We in Paths of Beasts do tread;
Follow vain Fools in Vitious tracts,
And even to Hell are by Example led:
Great Aims his Mind doth upward call;
While basely We to what's below us crawl.

No to Morrow.

An Holy Hermite, that to aged Years
His precious Moments had employ'd in Prayers;
Renew'd the Golden age, by Nature fed,
Took his Repose upon Earth's flowry Bed,
And had Heaven's Canopy above his Head:
With what was present did content his Mind,
And future things to Providence resign'd.

To Him some Friends did earnestly repair,
And begg'd at th' Consul's Choosing hee'd appear.
To whom Gray Hairs and Piety reply'd,
“What's in my power You shall not be deny'd.
“What You desire of me to Day I'le doe,
“But for to Morrow I can nothing show.
“You that are Young and hope for Future years,
“For times to come may fill your Heads with Cares.
“I use the Time is present; and no more,
“Than what to Day brings forth, account my store.
“I many Years have liv'd, yet never knew
“What was to Future Times and to to Morrow due.

Mart. Lib. 12. Epig. 23.

When Mony I on my bare Bond do crave,
Youv' none: I'le Mortgage, Sir,—oh! now you have.
Thus, Thelesine, you will not trust a Friend,
But on the Credit of his Field You'l lend.
You'r cast at Law; tell not me, tell my Land—
You want a Friend—not I, my Field shall stand.

On the Crocodile.

I

I am the Terrour of the Sea,
Proud Nile's chief Glory and his Fear:
From far I dart upon my Prey,
Which to my watry Hold I bear.
Dogs dare not drink for doubt of Me,
Thô they 'gainst Bulls and Lyons dare.
I am chief Instrument of Fate;
Two Elements upon me wait;
Water and Land conspire to make me great.

II

Of food I no Distinction make,
But in my Cruelty am Just:
Of Man and Beast alike I take,
And eat them both with equal Gust.
With Draughts of Gore my thirst I slake,
And Flesh I down my throat do thrust.
Fear gave rise to Divinity;
And Gods haue rose from Cruelty:
Wise Ægypt showd so; when She worship'd me.

III

The Indians kill me for their Food,
And say, I am Delicious meat:
They drink of their Relations Blood,
And eat, what did their Fathers eat.
In me they injure their own Brood,
Their Malice doth their Judgment cheat
But I may yet a Question make,
Whether when Me they hunt and take,
They think their Hunger or Revenge to slake.

IV

No Creature can my Power withstand:
Yet to that power Deceit I tie:
And by this Double Gordian band
Secure my hungry Tyranny;
The Terrour of the Sea and Land
In ambush on the Sands I lie.
What e're I take I do devour,
Yet o're the Head I tears do shower,
And weep and grieve,—because I have no more.

V

Men me Abhor, yet Imitate;
Like Falshood use without all Shame:
As Lawless Power, as deep Deceit
Doth Christian under Christian tame:
I live i'th' Actions of the Great;
What they're to Others, to them I am.
Would you then Power and Cunning see
Mixed with deep Hypocrisie?
They are conjoyn'd in Man, as well as Me!

On a Pen.

The feather'd Herald of loud Fame I sing;
Love's sweetest Friend and Satyr's sharpest sting.
The fierce Denouncer of devouring Arms,
The soft Proposer of mild Peace's charms:
That o're the Troops of Proudest Monarchs sways,
That rules the Sword, which Heaven and Earth obeys:
That charm'd the Barbarous World, and brought the Rude
And Savage Troops from lonely Solitude:
That made them down in Peace together lie,
And molded them into Civility:
Their yeilding Hearts with secret Joy did move,
With tyes of Friendship and of mutual Love:
First shew'd the Service, we to Heaven did owe,
The Rev'rence we should unto Justice show,
And Rules of Converse, and what e're we know.
Earth's Distant parts the Nimble Pen doth bind,
And to remotest Nations bears the Mind.
Thou wondrous Gift of Heaven! that can'st dispence
Immortall favours and eternall Sence.
Thou to dark Ages dost full Luster give;
By Thee Great Homer and Great Maro live!
Those, we ne're saw, yet by thy Help we know;
And Friendship can at greatest distance show.
Thou needfull Rules for Government dost give.
And from Oppression dost the Weak relieve.
The Reins of all things in thy power do lie,
And He rules All, who well can govern Thee.
The peacefull Mind thou canst to War excite,
And sink the Warriour down into delight,

Great Revolutions on thy power depend,
And Fates of Kings thy Motion do attend.

What secret spell doth in thy Letters ly?
What Magick Powers do from thy figures fly?
What wonders do the Savages relate
Of thine all-wise, all-wonderfull Estate?
That Characters, which from our Pens do stray,
To distant Climates should our thoughts convey.
Well might the Indian think the Letter spoke,
When by its help He in his theft was took.

On a Faithfull Dog.

Most Loyal Creature! whom no Bribes can bend:
Still thou untaught thy Master dost defend.
Lov'st generous Actions, that will bear the Light,
Irreconcilable to deeds of Night.
To Thieves and Villains a professed Foe,
And what soe're doth hidden treachery know.
Ne're in distress didst leave thy wretched Lord,
But didst at Life's expence thy help afford.
From thy indulgent Master ne're didst fly.
Nor e're betray'd the hand, that nourish'd Thee.
But when all Loyal help is try'd in vain.
True and unmov'd dost by his side remain,
And dost thy Faith in Fates extreams maintain:
Well did the fierce

Masinissa

Numidia's Prudent Lord
Choose from thy tribe his uncorrupted Guard.

Thy Life shames giddy Man's; for He's a slave
To every Veering Wind and Dancing Wave.
Him Gold, or Spleen, or Flattery moves to range,
Or, what is worse, meerly the Love of change.

He knows nor Gratitude, nor Honour's Laws,
But in extremity his help withdraws,
And leaves his Lord to th' mercy of his Foes.—
Villains or Fools the noisy Crowds compose;
Or sprightly Traytors, or dull stupid Logs;
How are they honour'd, if we style them Dogs?

On the Mole.

I

By Niggard unkind Nature I
Am doomed to perpetual Night;
In my dark solitude I ly,
And hate, what all do Love, the Light.
My days from nights no difference have,
But all my Life I'm in my Grave.

II

I'm Earth's bowels seek my prey,
In cursed solitude remain,
In those dark Regions, where no Ray
May help to ease me of my pain:
Doubly accurs'd, that have no sight,
Or, had I, am debarr'd the Light!

III

Once I was an Æthereal mind
(It learn'd Antiquity ought know)
But cloy'd with Joys of Heavenly kind,
I long'd for Pleasures here below:
Till angry Heaven from thence me thrust,
And set my Mansion in the Dust.

IV

Now Blind, who once did Glory see,
And dwelt in the Æthereal Air:
From Heaven, and thoughts of it, I fly,
And do all Commerce with it fear.
In caverns deep my Seat I place,
And shun, as guilty men, Heaven's face.

V

The starting, trembling, Guilty Soul,
And Conscience, that awake doth keep,
Might seek for shelter with the Mole;
And fix her habitation deep.
But tell me where a troubled mind,
A Dungeon deep enough shall find!

The Norway Whale.

I

I am the Messenger of angry Fate,
And do approaching Monarchs Death relate:
Norway with trembling Eyes doth look on me,
And I'me the Comet of the Sea.
Meteors from Heaven betoken Death,
And I do tell it from beneath.

II

To Mariners an Island I appear,
And fearless they unto my side draw near,
Wondering what unknown Land their course doth stay,
And think they have mistook their way.

Their Charts and Mapps in vain they spread,
Believing Nature's lately brought to Bed.

III

Yet wisely Nature with my Bulk doth deal,
And Folly on my Greatness doth entail;
Makes me a dull, stupid, and senceless Piece,
My Head but not my Brains encrease.
Did Wit or Malice dwell in me,
How dangerous a Monster should I be?

IV

How many Whales may even our Country boast,
Whose Souls are in their Massy Bodies lost?
Who, if it haps they don't mischievous grow,
Their praise is, that they know not how:
Their Innocence from Folly got,
Their Excellence not in their Head, but Throat.

On Sleep.

Sleep , thou most soft and pleasing of the Gods,
That kindly easest weary Mortals Loads!
What other angry Deities infer,
Thou, Tutelary, Genius help'st to bear.
Even Jove himself must part the time with Thee,
Thou Ease and Aid of our Mortality!
To th' Gods and Fate we do the day resign,
But half the Time, the Night, sweet Sleep, is thine:
To whom our Life those Cordial hours doth owe,
Help to digest the Bitterness of woe!

The Springs of Life would soon exhausted be,
If not replenish'd and refresh'd by Thee.
Thou call'st the flagging Spirits to the Brain,
With Balmy Dew sprinklest the wearied Train,
That grow and flourish with thy moistning showers;
As silver Drops lift up the tender Flowers.
The long-distended Nerves are laid to rest,
And silent Ease spreads o're the heaving Breast:
A pleasing Numness on the Limbs doth seize,
And all, but Labouring Fancy, is at ease:
A thousand shapes She o're the Brain doth roul,
Disjointed Schemes play i'th' deluded Soul:
Inverted thoughts without, or Form, or Law,
Fragments of what before we heard, or saw:
Till the refreshed Spirits with haughty Pride,
With vigorous Strength thro all the Limbs do glide,
And break the Silken Fetters, Sleep had ty'd.

Thou lull'st at once Us and our Woes asleep;
Thy Guards from Troubles faithfull Centry keep.
It is the sacred Time they must refrain,
And wait, till we rise from thy Arms again.
Thou Safe Asylum, where the wretched Slave
With the proud Victor equal share can have:
Both meet in thy Embraces, both lie down,
(I'th' Grave and Sleep there's no Distinction known)
Both senceless of the Joys, or Griefs, they own.
The weary Wretch, that Tugs at th' Oar doth find.
Of all the Gods, Thou art to him most kind.
Thy Charitable help doth condescend
Ease to the loaded Prisoner to lend,
That low in Dungeons lies far from the sight
Of Mortal Eyes, and th' common Good, the Light:
Thou cheer'st his blinded Eyes and troubled Mind,
And Him, that's lost to all the World, dost find.

Thou visit'st Humble Cotes and silent Cells,
Where Native Innocence and Pleasure dwells;
Where Love and Peace do undisturbed reign,
And Truth and Safety's more esteem'd, than Gain.
But far thou fliest from Courts and Rooms of State,
From Noise of Business and of being Great.
Ambition there upon the Mind doth seize,
And Lust and Rage do rob the Soul of Ease:
Bloody Revenge the Tortur'd heart doth tear,
Nor doth black Jealousie the Entrails spare.
They smile without, but inwardly do bleed,
And restless Vultures on the Liver feed.
Scorpions and Furies there may make aboad,
But there's no Room for Thee, thou pleasing God!
With weary steps they may to Honour crawl,
And Golden showers into their Laps may fall:
But Thee they want, bless'd Sleep, who sweet'nest all.

All States and Tempers of thy Pleasures tast;
Which, when all other Joys are gone, do last.
Despairing Wretches, from whom Comforts fly,
May in Ambitious Dreams yet happy be,
And what they ne're shall have. Enjoy by Thee
The Valiant Souldier dreams of Mortal Wars,
Of bloody Wounds and Honourable Scars,
Grasps at Imaginary Crowns, and lies
Entranc'd in Ravishing Sighs and Exstasies:
Till the soft Bonds of downy Sleep do break,
Then grieves and sighs, that he so soon doth wake.
A Lover's mind Beauteous Ideas dress,
While slumber doth his wandring Soul possess.
The Object of his Flame he doth adore,
Freely Embraces, what was Coy before,
What his unbounded thoughts desire, enjoys;
Fancy the room of what's not there supplies.

Unwillingly he's wak'd out of his Dream,
And grieves, that all was but Ixion's Scheme.
The sweet-tongu'd Poet, whose Immortal Song
Makes Men rise Gods, and Age it self grow young,
Tho poor Contempt offend his waking eyes,
Rich in thine Arms, thou Sole Mœcenas, lyes.
Sleep doth the Draughts of former Acts retrieve,
Disorder'd Cuts of Ancient Gests doth give:
Each of his Calling or his Deeds doth dream,
Merchants o'th' Sea, the Husbandman of's Team,
Lawyers of Strife, and Sportsmen of their Game.
Sleep the Day's Pleasures doubles in the Night,
And kindly represents what doth delight;
Death's younger Brother!—
The first Essay of our Mortality;
The First, that learns us, what it is to dy!

A near agreement Sleep and Death do keep,
“Sleep's a short Death and Death a longer sleep.
In sleep our business with the World is done,
What's acted, or what's spoke, to us unknown:
Secret, as when we in the Grave lie down.
We'r unconcern'd at th' buz and Noise of things,
At the Erection or the fall of Kings.
No Plots nor deep Designs in hand we have,
Are but one step on this side of the Grave.

The Dust doth equal all, and Sleep doth so:
Alike to both, Monarchs and Captives bow:
While fast their sences sleepy Fetters bind,
No difference We 'twixt Prince and Peasant find;
All senceless Lumps of flesh alike; nor can
The Wise be sever'd from the Foolish Man.
Both may have Dreams, and both alike confus'd;
Chance governs all, where Wisdom is not us'd.

And Peasants may have Dreams as great and high,
As those that fill the head of Majesty.
They'r breathing Mummies all, and till they wake,
Wisdom or Greatness no Distinction make.

Martial's Ague. Lib. 10. Ep. 45.

In sighs, Leutinus, thou dost spend the Days,
And wonder'st much so long thy Ague stays.
With Thee in gilded Coach it lolls at ease,
With Thee doth sup on far-fetch'd Rarities:
With Generous Liquor drunk it still is thine,
And knows no Water, but what cooles the Wine,
Crowned with Roses and with Perfumes spred.
Sleeps upon Down and rests on Purple Bed.
With Thee so entertain'd, what should it do?
Would'st have it to an half-starv'd Wretch to go?

[We all prize Life; and yet how short's the Date?]

Ætas parentum pejor avis tulit
Nos nequiores, mox daturos
Progeniem vitiosiorem.
Hor.

We all prize Life; and yet how short's the Date?
Not worth the trouble we are daily at.
Press'd with the load of Years, with Life we'r pleas'd,
With both our Arms, tho wretched, 'tis embrac'd.
Unhappy man! curs'd with a double Woe,
With Life's Vexation and its Shortness too.
How blessed was our uncorrupted State;
When from God's Hand we dropt Immaculate?

E're Nature had from Vice receiv'd its stain,
E're the Creation's Glory had its Bane.
When Moderation kept in drink and meat,
Men eat to Live, and did not Live to eat;
Before luxurious Variety
Had taught our Fathers Immature to dy.
When Nature open'd her unrifled store,
By former Ages never touch'd before,
Which flourish'd in its fresh unbafled Power.
When Native Knowledge o're the Soul was spread,
That could the use of Herbs and Mettals read,
And all, that might draw out Life's tender thread.
When benign Influences of the Stars
Contributed to Length of Happy Years,
That Those, who many Ages liv'd, might find
Those needfull Arts, of use to Humane kind.

We, of all Generations far the worst,
In Time, in Place, and in our Selves accurs'd,
In the gross Lees o'th' Elements do dwell,
With nauseous Air and putrid Matter swell:
A Place, refined Souls would think an Hell.
Where old Decrepit Nature, thrô Decay,
Doth feeble, weak, inglorious Births display;
Robb'd of her pristine store, the spirits fled,
The shortliv'd shadows withered Look and dead.
But yet the greatest and worst part of Woe,
Unhappy Man unto Himself doth owe!
We by our Vice our Natures do deprave,
We by Intemperance make too soon our Grave.
Passions do Knowledge blast and Reason blind,
And wear at once our Body and our Mind.
No wise designs for future times we lay,
Confin'd to the small Compass of to day.
Nature hath made us Wretched, but We more;
Fate curses us, and we add to the store.

Woes from our selves, or outward Causes, bred
With our own hands We pull down on our head.
A Vertuous Life would all these ills remove;
Our Nature, Years, and Knowledge, would improve;
Would render our short Lives more blest, and fair,
Then theirs, that did so many Ages wear.
This Life's in order to an other State,
The End and Crown doth upon Death await:
The Way to Happiness is thrô that Gate.
And in our Life it matters not to tell,
How many Years we've lived, but how Well.

Martial Lib. 9. Ep. 15.

Dost think, He whom thy liberal Table drew,
Can ever be to Love or Friendship true?—
He loves thy Mullets, Oysters, and not Thee:
Could I so entertain him, hee'd love Me.

The Battle between a Cock and a Capon.

Lamport 1682.

Let other Poets treat of lofty Things,
The rise of States and fall of Captive Kings:
A lower subject doth my Muse invite,
An humbler Theme, but of no less Delight.

A bloody Battle late was sought between
Two Combatants of different hopes and Meine.
One, the proud Captain of the brooding Race,
That doth the Yard o'th' carefull Houswife grace:
With tender Chuck calls the admiring Rout,
And proudly leads th' obsequious Hens about:

The drowsie Peasant's Clock, whose wakefull throat
Doth Midnight's shades and Day's approach denote:
Calls up from his course Bed the snoring Hind,
Whom Sleep's strong fetters do securely bind,
While guilty Greatness can no Quiet find.
The Creature, whom enjoyment can't appease,
But Raves in lust, and Rivals all his Race;
Not a Seraglio his Desires can please.
Impatient Lust doth in his Visage lie,
And deadly Rage dwells in his bloody Eye.

The Other of the Combatants was one
Of meaner hopes and expectation:
Not much unlike in shape, but much in Meine,
Nor Male, nor Female, but a sort between.
Monster! not made by Nature, but by Art;
Whose sex the carefull Housewife did impart:
Who conscious, Lust did fret the Nerves away,
And on Life's Balsame did too freely prey,
With bloody Knife did rob him of the prize,
Where Love is plac'd, and some say, Courage lies.
Angry with all the World for th' Inju'ry done,
A melancholly sullen Creature grown,
He Consort shuns, and loves to be alone.
Ghastly and pale he look'd, whether for fear,
Or rage at the Misfortunes, he did bear,
Or want of generous spirits and active fires,
Which daring uncontrouled Love inspires:
Each part unseemly look'd, but most of all
The bending Feathers of his useless Tail.

The Combat nois'd, to the unusual Sport
A gallant Train of Noble Youth resort.
All do the Castrate's sneaking looks deride,
And give their suffrage o'th' proud Champion's side.

Till from the rest

Sr. Justinian Isham.

One, born of noble Race,
Whom Honour, Beauty, Wit, and Worth did grace;
Whether it was his perspicacious Eye
Did growing sparks of hidden Valour spy;
(And who of Valour greater Judge than He?)
Or that he scorn'd to walk i'th' beaten road,
The common Path, that all the Vulgar trod;
Or that, as generous Spirits do, He chose
To lend his help unto the weaker cause,
As Cato did thô Gods did him oppose:
Castrate's Defence he took, and thus he spoke.
“Narses did once an Empire's fate revoke:
“Renown with Kingdoms he did bravely win
“And Victory sat on his beardless Chin.
“Europe and Asia still deplore the fate,
“That Sinan Bassa's Valour did create!
“Both fill'd with Fame and Honourable scars;
“Unfit for Venus, fit for Mars's Wars..
O're Castrate's Soul the pleasing Accents spread,
And lifted up his long-dejected Head.
Great thoughts in his depressed Mind did grow,
And glowing Heat thrô every Limb did flow,
From valiant Race he sprung, (if Fame says true)
And his Descent from bloody Warriours drew:
Till Numerous Injuries and long Disgrace
(Scorn'd and contemn'd by all the female Race)
His high-born generous Spirit did debase.
But now swell'd up by Praise to bloody Fight,
Praise, that the Coward doth to Fame excite,
With deep Revenge his Soul doth inward bleed,
And Jealousie doth on his Liver feed,
A Jealousie from Impotence that's bred.
Rage, Madness; and Revenge his soul possess,
And his torn Heart to mighty Acts address.

Fierce Chanticleer with haughty scornfull Pride
And mix'd Disdain over the Pit did stride,
And did th' Unworthy Combatant deride:
But, see'ing at last he did to fight prepare,
He gives the signal to th' unlucky Warr,
With that shrill Note, that ope's the Morning's Eye,
That dreadfull Note, that makes even Lions fly:
And with Revenge, which his proud Soul did swell,
He like a Tempest on his Enemy fell.
Both met, both others heightned Courage try'd,
And in deep Gore their shining Weapons died.

The Cautious Castrate let his eager Foe
In haughty Vaunts and scorn his strength bestow:
Disgrace and long-felt Shame had made him wise,
Taught him grave Arts and usefull Policies:
How to beguile a fierce and eager Foe,
How to ward off, and how return a Blow;
With circling winding Course his Foe deceive,
And deadly and unlook'd-for wounds to give.
To make his Enemie's fierceness useless still,
To fly and wound, and Parthian-like to kill.
With various fortune the event they try,
One doth on Force, th' other on Fraud rely,
And Victory with equal wings doth fly.
Besmeard with gore, with blood and fury red,
Blood they drink down, and showers of blood they shed.

With loss of blood at length the Cock grows faint,
And doth, too late, those fiery spirits want,
Which he so prodigally spent to please
The Lust of all his Speckled Mistresses:
Finds, what his glory was, his shame doth grow,
And Lust, that heightens, doth enervate too.
Yet scorning longer a base Foe to' engage,
He summons the remains of force and rage:

One blow he with united Forces made.
And Castrate senseless on the Pavement laid.

Netled with the Disgrace, brave Castrate rose:
Disgrace, that sparks of hidden Valour blows,
Ferments within, and wakes the sleeping seeds,
That many years lay dead, to gallant deeds.
All, that from Rage or wrankled Malice flow,
All, that Revenge or Jealousie can show,
All, that past Scorn, Disgrace, or biting Slight;
All in one fatal bloody Blow unite;
Which strow'd the Cock supinely on the ground,
While Blood and Life flow'd from the gaping wound.
Castrate on his fall'n Foe with pride did tread,
And lifting up his late-dejected Head,
He would have Crow'd, to show the Victory;
But barr'd by former wrongs that faculty,
He Cackled something out, which those, that know
The Tongue, he spoke in, do interpret so.
“Here the Insulting Conquerour doth lie,
“Mighty in Venus School, that could supply
“The Love of twenty Hens, and every Morn
“With fiery Lust his blushing Cheeks adorn.
“Venus and Mars have different ways of fight;
“One doth in Love, th' other in Rage delight:
“Courage resides i'th' noble seat the Heart;
“But Love's confin'd unto a lower Part.

Olympias's Lamentation over Dead Alexander.

Vain Youth! to what amounts now all thy Toil,
Or what Enjoyment hast thou of thy Spoil?

That, which with the Expence of sweat and blood
Thou dearly bought'st, is shar'd by th' wrangling Crowd.
Each on thy Spacious Empire sets his Eye,
And Thou neglected dost unburied ly.
Alive the trembling World to Thee did pray,
To Thee, now dead, none doth Obedience pay.
Thy former Deeds forgotten, by thy side
Thy fear, thy Reverence, and Authority di'd.
Nor could'st Thou, out of all thy Conquests, save
So much ground, as would serve Thee for a Grave.
The World but Yesterday thou thought'st too small,
And scornd'st the Narrow compass of this Ball:
Thy Towring thoughts and thy Designs laid low,
Seven foot of ground thy Burial place will grow;
But even that common Right thou wantest now.
Thy wild Ambition up to Heaven would soar,
Made servile Priests thy Altars to adore:
Alive thou we'rt inroll'd with Gods above,
But Death Thee truly did a Mortal prove:
Thy Death unravell'd all, thy Life had Wove.
Better, hot Boy, thou hadst in Greece remain'd,
And o're thy Native Land in quiet reign'd:
Than thus the peace o'th' Injur'd World to break,
And unjust Spoils from faultless Nations take:
And for thy Glorious Robberies, but to claim
The whole World's Curses and a Posthume Fame.

Big with great Schemes and flattering hopes we dy:
New crowding Numbers do the Soul employ,
While others swell up to Maturity:
Death closes up the Scene of Actions past,
And the imperfect Embrio's into Air do wast.

On a Robin-red-breast, that for many years built and dwelt in a Church.

I

Proud Man with high conceits doth swell,
And wonders of's own Worth doth tell:
Vainly believes, that he alone
Hath any Notion of Religion.
But they, blest Bird, that hear thy Songs, believe
The Truest Devotion in thy Breast doth live.
No Envy, Pride, or Discontent dwells there;
No factious Interest, mean Designs, or Fear,
Nor do Hypocrisy thy Actions wear.

II

Angels are said their Prayers to Join
With holy Men in Acts Divine:
Thou mak'st the Chorus, when we pray,
And when we praise, thou sing'st thy cheerfull Lay.
To highest flights thy warm Devotion goes,
Thou op'st the Morning, and the Day dost close.
Thou by thy Carolls own'st a Deity,
To th' Altar dost for Sanctuary fly,
And wisest Men can only follow Thee.

III

And if those Ancient Dreams be true,
That Souls thrô many changes go;
Some pious Mind, That wanted Rest,
Came and took up thy Zealous flaming Breast.

We here below with mists and Errours deal,
What Language Angels speak, there's none can tell;
Nor know we, but those Airs, that pleas'd our Soul,
That did in high Seraphick Numbers roul,
Might be some Hallelujah, Thou had'st stole.

On the Death of a Monkey.

I

Here Busy and yet Innocent lyes Dead,
Two things, that seldom meet:
No Plots nor Stratagems disturb'd his head,
Or's merry Soul did fret:
He shew'd like Superannuated Peer,
Grave was his look, and Politick his Air;
And he for Nothing too spent all his care.

II

But that he died of Discontent, 'tis fear'd,
Head of the Monkey Rout;
To see so many Brother Apes preferr'd,
And he himself left out:
On all below he did his Anger showr,
Fit for a Court did all above adore,
H'had Shows of Reason, and few Men have more.

Advice to a Despairing Lover.

I

Why, silly Wretch, wil't pine and dy,
And unregarded ly?

Thou never sure did'st think to move
Either her Pitty, of her Love,
That's free from passion, like the Gods above.

II

Let dy with Thee those hopes, that fed
These follies in thy head:
The Sun doth never cease to fly,
Nor th' Moon her wonted Course lays by,
Because a silly peevish Worm will dy.

III

Monarchs may dy; and yet stern Fate
Flies at the wonted rate:
The Laws of Nature still wheel on,
And their unerring Course do run,
And no new grief doth stop their Motion.

IV

Why then wilt thou resign thy Breath,
Since she minds not thy Death?
She, like the Stars, perhaps may see;
But plac'd in her Felicity,
She can't have sence of sorrow, or of Thee.

V

Thou by thy Death wilt add one more,
One Victim to the Store,
And as those Heaps, in Battail slain,
Are known by Number, not by Name,
Thou nothing by thy Death, but Death shalt gain.

VI

So do the unregarded Fry,
Like Beasts neglected dy;
And after some few Years of sleep
Oblivion o're their Names doth creep;
And their left Friends scarce their Remembrance keep.

Death's Warning.

A Gallant liv'd in Pride of Youthfull Powers,
Lull'd in soft Ease, bless'd Health, and tender hours:
Whose Easy Mind ne're ruffled was with Care,
Nor did the Toyl, or Load of Business bear:
Ne're knew Concern, but an Intreague of Love,
Nor beyond that amuzing Court did rove.
But stretch'd in shades he like an Indian lay;
To every smiling Moment's Birth did play,
And drank and danc'd and sang the Circling Years away.

To whom Death did in griezly shape appear,
Unerring Death, that doth to all repair,
Meets us in Beds of Down, as well as Fields of War.
Th' Officious Fiend doth on our footsteps tread,
Dresses in every Shape his hatefull Head,
As oft in what we Love, as what we dread.
The Poor beneath their troubles groaning dy,
The Rich expire in Exstasies of Joy:
The Manner differs, not the Destiny.

Th' Amazed Spark, struck with a cold surprize,
Who had with pleasing Objects fed his Eyes,
Found at the sight, wild Notions fill'd his head,
And all his Youthfull Warmth and Vigour fled.

Till he, recover'd from his deep amaze,
Ask'd the Grim Shape, from whence, and what He was.
To whom the Spectre with insulting pride,
Lifting his Conquering Arm on high reply'd.—
“I'me the world's Monarch; to Me Princes bow,
“Scepters and Crowns do at my feet fall low.
“At my Command the suppliant Numbers come,
“And take their fixt inevitable Doom.
“All Creatures do beneath my Empire lie;
“And willing, or unwilling, they must die.
The Pointed Accents the Young Spark did hear,
Being already almost dead for fear;
And cry'd, “My tender Youth (great Monarch) spare.
“I am a feeble, unresisting, Prey,
“Too mean for your Victorious hand to slay.
“'Twill sully all your former glorious Fame,
“To say, You such a Prostrate overcame.
“The rugged Souldier doth your force defie,
“And loudly calls on You, that from him fly.
“Dares you in your own Realm, the Scenes of blood,
“Where scatter'd Members o're the Fields are strow'd.
“The wretched Prisoner your Relief demands,
“And begs his wish'd-for Freedom from your hands,
“That can his fetters lose and break his Bands.
“Despairing Lovers, that no Joy do know,
“Do hope to find in You an End of Woe.
“You fly from those, that do defie your power,
“Are deaf to those, that do your Aid implore.—
“Humble the Haughty, with the Wretch comply;
“And let untouch'd the prostrate Suppliant lie.

Death seem'd to such a soft entreaty kind;
If ever he to Pitty was inclin'd,
(But Wisemen say, he's Deaf, as well as Blind.)

And told him, He his unripe Youth would spare,
But bad him for his next Approach prepare,
For he would then no vain excuses hear.
Th' emboldned Youth acknowledg'd his high sway,
And promis'd, his next Summons to obey;
But begg'd, he might have notice of the Day.
To whom Death cry'd, “You shall have what you crave,
“You shall of my Approach due warning have.
Glad of's Departure the Joy'd Youth arose,
Lapp'd his late frighted Soul in soft Repose:
Sang Requiems to his now-composed Mind,
Tasted each pleasure, that look'd fair or kind:
Did set no bounds to' impetuous Desire,
Freely embrac'd what Passion did require.
Ne're thought of Death more, or the threatned Grave
Which Melancholly dreadfull Prospects gave,
But still on this rely'd, He should a Warning have.
No Preparations for's Departure made,
But to the Time of Age that Work delay'd,
And hop'd, that Debt ev'en then might be defray'd.
At last unlook'd-for Death approach did make
And him did from's enchanted slumber wake:
Who loudly at the Injury did rave,
And taxed Death, that he no Warning gave.
Who, smiling with a Grin, in Scorn reply'd,
“My Justice in all Ages hath been try'd:
“With equal feet to Crowns and Spades I come,
“None are above, none are below, my Doom.
“I've kept my promise; I fair warning gave,
“Each time you slept, I warn'd You of the Grave.
“Sleep is my Younger Brother, we dwell nigh;
“And there's but one step betwixt Him and Me.
“I i'th' last Feaver did to you appear,
“And when the Dropsie seiz'd You, I was near.

“Your Nerves in Lust and in Debauch'ry broke,
“Your Palsie Hands in drunken Revels shook,
“Loudly with pressing signes did on You call:
“But You, regardless You, was Deaf to all.
“You scap'd before, and hop'd still so to doe,
“Far from your thoughts did drive the Day of Wo,
“You would not hear me call, nor will I you.
Th' Astonish'd Youth but little had to say,
And Death, who now refus'd to hear him Pray,
With one stroke even to That did stop the Way.

On a Sunbeam.

I

Thou Beauteous Off-spring of a Syre as Fair;
With thy kind Influence thou dost all things heat:
Thou gild'st the Heaven, the Sea, the Earth, and Air,
And under massy Rocks dost Gold beget.
Th' opaque dull Earth thou dost make fine,
Thou dost ith' Moon and Planets shine;
And if Astronomy say true,
Our Earth to them doth seem a Planet too.

II

How unaccountable thy Journeys prove!
Thy swift Course thrô the Universe doth fly,
From lofty heights in distant Heavens above,
To all that at the lowly Center ly.
Thy Parent Sun once in a Day
Thrô Heaven doth steer his well-beat way;
Thou of a swifter subtler breed
Dost every Moment his Day's Course exceed.

III

Thy Common presence makes thee little priz'd,
Which if we once had lost, wee'd dearly Buy:
How would the Blind hugg, what's by us despis'd?
How welcome wouldst thou in a Dungeon be?
Thrice-wretched those, in Mines are bred,
That from thy sight are buried,
When all the Stores, for which they try,
Neither in Use, nor Beauty, equal Thee.

IV

Could there be found an Art to fix thee down,
And of condensed Rays a Gem to make,
'Twould be the brightest Lustre of a Crown,
And an esteem invaluable take,
New Wars would the tir'd World molest,
And new Ambition fire Mens breast,
More Battels fought for it, than e're
Before for Love, Empire, or Treasure, were.

V

Thou'rt quickly born and dost as quickly die:
Pitty so fair a Birth to fate should fall!
Now here and now in abject Dust dost lie;
One Moment 'twixt thy Birth and Funeral.
Art thou, like Angels, only shown,
Then to our Grief for ever flown?
Tell me, Apollo, tell me where
The Sunbeams go, when they do disappear.

The Athenian Madman.

I

In Athens, once the Nurse of Arms and Arts,
Where, Wit and Learning fix'd their seat,
(Sometimes even there doth Folly meet,
For Nature variously her Gifts imparts:)
A Madman dwelt, the Laughter of the Town,
Who every Morning to the Port went down,
And thought all Ships, that enter'd, were his own.

II

The Captains Hail'd, did for the Cockets call;
Enquir'd what Riches were on board,
What Merchandizes they had stor'd;
And what mishaps did in their Voyage fall.
Did his commands upon his servants lay;
To various parts the Cargo sent away,
To Merchants all, or storehouse, did convey.

III

Nor was his (so dispis'd) a cursed state;
An Innocent Madness him doth seize,
A Frenzy, that his Mind doth please;
And uncontrouled thoughts upon him wait.
He thinks he's Happy and he's therefore so.
Believes he's Rich, and Wealth in Streams do flow:
He hugs the thought, and thence doth blessed grow.

IV

How many Men, than he, more raving are,
Who are amidst their Treasure poor,
And pine and starve in swelling store,
And might be happy, if they thought they were.
It is not Riches, that Content can win,
The secret we must to our heart resign,
Content lives not without, but dwells within.

V

We all alike do Happiness desire,
Yet commonly the Treasure loose:
The Madman doth, what's present choose,
He thinks no farther, nor doth more require.
Fancy makes him, what others fain would grow;
A serious Judgment doth small difference know,
'Twixt being Happy, and 'twixt thinking so.

Martial's happy Life.

Vitam quæ faciunt, &c. Lib. 10. Ep. 45.

What things our Life do happy make
From me, my sweetest Martial, take.
A left Estate, not got with pain;
A fruitfull Field, that swells with grain;
A Kitching, that is ever warm;
Life free from Quarrels and from Harm.
Rarely to be concern'd with State,
Never to' have Law-sutes, or debate;
But on the Mind Content to wait.

The Strength intire and Body sound,
And Innocence with Prudence crown'd:
An Equal and a Faithfull Friend,
Discourse, that may in Pleasure end,
Nor Feasts, that may to Riot tend.
No drunken Nights, yet such, as may
Wash off the sully of the Day.
No lonely Bed, yet One, that's chast;
And Sleep, that tedious Nights may wast.
With what we have to be Content,
Nor, what we have not, to resent:
Not fear our last approaching Day,
And yet not rashly fling our Life away.

Advice to a Virgin.

Fair blooming Beauty, left without defence,
Nothing to guard Thee, but thine Innocence!
Whose unexperienc'd Mind no ill doth know,
But Judges all things good, 'cause Thou art so.
Little thou think'st, what Dangers Thee surround,
What Plots and Stratagems laid under ground;
Which the fond Lovers, in thy Rays that play,
Against thy Innocent Designs do lay:
And thô they crouch beneath your sparkling Eyes,
Each boldly hopes, that You will be his Prize.
'Tis all great Fortunes and great Beauties get,
The One to buy th' Other to invite, Deceit.
For barren Countries none will ever fight,
'Tis the rich Soil the Conquest doth invite.
To gather common Stones no labour strives,
'Tis for rich Gems the Sun-burnt Negro dives.

Where Plenty springs, or where rich Mines abound,
The Victory with due Rewards is Crown'd;
To Birds and Beasts is left the Barren ground.

Guard then your Beauty; 'tis a Dangerous Store,
A Fatal Treasure, that hath Ruin'd more,
Than e're were Wretched made by being poor.
Expect then often Storms; all are your Foes,
What e're their Countenance, or Behaviour shows,
That would possess those Treasures, You disclose.
Let Vertue Rule, and Prudence be your Guide,
All Vice and the Suspicion of't avoid.
Be Vertuous and be thought so; Few there be,
That dare attempt upon Your Chastity,
If no unwary Action did precede,
By which they gather'd hopes, they might Succeed.
“Fame's quickly lost and ne're to be retriev'd,
“And Rumour, true or false, blasts, if believ'd.
You're Angels, while You do admit no Stain;
But when You fall, You Mortals are again.

See that fair Flower, the Glory of the Field,
That did enchanting Joy and Pleasure yield,
By some rude Hand crop'd in its height of Pride;
How, all its Beauty fled, it withering died.
See but the Snow; like You, 'tis Starry bright,
While no warm touch doth taint its Native White:
But if ought doth its Virgin-Beauty stain,
Not all Earth's Treasures can restore't again.

Nor let (fair Piece of Nature) Your young Years
Be drawn away with Lovers vows and tears.
Love every Passion, it doth see, can Ape,
The changing Proteus puts on every shape.
Whom Love doth seize, he strait grows Eloquent,
And Streams of Words flow from desire and want:

Mind not the Trifles, on Mens lips that grow;
'Tis Scum, that from their botling Breasts doth flow;
Free of their Oaths, but in performance slow.
Impunity renders the Traytors safe,
Even Jove at Lovers perjuries doth laugh.

Your Yielding Mind let not vain presents bend,
Beware of Gifts an Enemy doth send:
They are the price they'd buy You at, and when
You are their own, the Gifts are theirs again.
Be deaf to Flattery; it deludes the Mind,
And oft, when all Arts fail, doth entrance find.
But then's most Danger, we should to 't resign.
When't meets with that Arch-Flatterer within.
Ne're dream, that Constancy in Man resides,
Who less i'th' Prize, then in the Conquest Prides.
In Love and in Ambition what Men have,
They slight, and for what they possess not, rave.
One Conquest got, another fills the Mind,
Nor can the greatest Treasures keep't confind.
Of Thoughts and of Desires no bounds are known,
Nor can the brightest Beauty fix Love down.
Nor will Preëminence more be You allow'd,
Once got, you're lost among the Common Crowd.
No greater Privilege will Your Beauty gain,
But in the Mass of things will Scorn'd remain,
Nor but for change be visited again.
The tasting Bee doth search the secret Bowers,
And rifles all the Beds of silver flowers:
Nor Rose, nor Lilly, can inforce his stay;
Fresh sweets the winged Chymist call away.
Untouch'd You'll th' object of their Worship be;
Yielding You do at their Discretion ly,
And when the Thief hath robb'd, he'll hate and fly.

See! The throat-parched Wretch, whom Thirst doth fire,
Approaches the cool Fount with hot desire.

He bows his Head, and kneels upon the brink,
And freely o'th' transparent Waves doth drink.
Refresh'd, he careless doth pursue his way,
No thanks to th' charitable Nymph doth pay,
Nor her once-rav'shing Charms can beg his stay:
Rises and slights what he did late adore;
Turns his ungratefull Back, never to see her more.—

Thus sang my Friend—But did Fair Martha know
The Truth and Love, that in my Soul do flow;
Her Virgin-Sweets She'd to my Arms resign,
Bless Me, and bless Her Self in being Mine.

No Goddess e're deserv'd so well as She!
And no True Lover e're exceeded Me.

The Twelve Rules of Friendship to my Worthy Friend, Mr Joshua Barnes, B. D. President of Emmanuel College in Cambridge.

Friendship 's the purest, the Divinest Love,
The onely Passion, Angels know above:
Where purg'd from Matter Souls do truly join,
Abstracted from all sordid low design,
And where no Mixture of the Sex creeps in.
The Gordian Knot, that nothing can unty,
No Time can wear, nor date of Age destroy.
Whose Rules, without the gawdy Dress of Art,
Accept from Him, who freely sends his Heart.

FIRST RULE.

No Supercilious Look, no Cato's brow,
No surly State, or Pride, in Friendship show.

Act not a Master, or Superior's part
But freely to your Friend disclose your Heart.
When Friendship's bonds concording Hearts do tie,
Why should a distance 'twixt the Persons lie?

II.

Be Deaf to Rumour, and to whisper'd Lyes,
Which wicked Arts and Envious Tongues devise.
Detraction's secret-wounding Arrows fly
Silent as Night, and Black as Destiny.
Still keep One Ear for what your Friend may say:
Fame may deceive; in Justice Hear his Plea.

III.

No base, mean Action of your Friend desire,
Nor basely act for Him, if He require.
Do vertuously, you'll please your vertuous Friend,
If not, let Friendship, not your Vertue, end:
That Friendship's bad, which Vertue can't commend.

IV.

Warn him of Dangers, which he doth not see
Thrô Ignorance, or Inadvertency;
Chiefly those Snakes, that under Flowers repose,
Pretended Friends, the very worst of Foes:
From these our treacherous Disappointments rise;
These know our Hearts, with these we do advise;
But Guard our selves from Open Enemies.

V.

Causless Suspicions shun; they taint the Mind,
And make the best-meant Actions seem unkind.
Shew not too quick a sense of Injuries,
Our greatest Griefs do from Opinion rise.
He, that on Trivial Grounds doth Frantick grow,
Doth live Uneasie, and makes Friendship so.

VI.

Honour your Friend's brave Acts with worthy Praise,
But don't your Eulogies to Flattery raise.
Labour'd Expressions flote above the Heart,
The Product not of Nature, but of Art.
Yet been't too sparing: If Extremes must be,
Let them upon the side of Kindness lie.

VII.

Severely Blame his faults, but Taunting spare.
Scorn from a Friend the deadli'est Sting doth wear,
And in a Friend's disguise a Foe is there.
Chide but with Goodness, blame with Clemency:
Publick Reproofs are kin to Calumny.
Comfort Him, if his Shame or Grief abound,
And pour in Oyl, when you have search'd the Wound.

VIII.

Speak well of Him; but shun officious Lies:
Immoderate Praises turn to Injuries.
Defend him Absent; Vindicate his Name,
And boldly from Detraction free his Fame.
Nay, if he's Justly taxt, excuse his Fault,
With all, from Truth, or Prudence, can be brought.

IX.

Be in your Kindness generous and free,
Give, but upbraid not: That turns Injury.
And when his Gratitude he'd make appear,
Accept his Presents, thô but mean they are.
Despise no Gift, that doth from Love proceed:
Slights and unkindness make Love deeply bleed.

X.

Counsel him Faithfully; let not Advice
From your Advantage or Designs arise.

We're all ill Judges of our Acts: Bless'd he;
Can with Impartial Eyes and Judgment see,
And hath a Friend, on whom he can rely.
His Interest be your Aim, and Truth your Guide:
Advise on Safety, not on Favour's side.

XI.

Be Gallant in's defence: For no design,
Fear, or unworthy thoughts your Love decline.
To' his Aid thrô strongest Opposition fly,
Nor draw your Hand back, till you've set him free.
Nothing's too dear for Friendship: For his sake
Your Name, Estate, and Life lay down at stake.

XII.

Value and prize his Kindness, Love him high,
In gallant Actions with his Friendship vie.
Wear him still next your Heart, the lasting stay,
When Health, Wealth, Pleasure, Honour fly away:
The mighty Cordial, that doth ease our trouble
Divides our Griefs, and makes our Pleasures double.

The Memorandum.

Friendship can numerous Mountain-Faults pass by;
They are but Molehills in a Friendly Eye:
And Love can Multitudes of Sins conceal.—
But He, that Secrets doth reveal,
And what's entrusted to his Breast doth tell;
Or He, that treacherously his Friend doth smite,
Whispers Reproach, and stabs him in the Night,
Forfeits to all these Laws his Right:
Branded like Cain, like Cain accursed too,
Foe to the World, and all the World his Foe,
Never may He the Joys of sacred Friendship know!

On the Phænix.

I'm Nature's wonder, the Creation's glory,
Pride of Arabia, Prodigy of story:
On whom profusely Nature spends her store,
And after for a thousand years is Poor.
Wonder not then, she Me alone doth make;
So much from her my single Worth doth take,
Another cost would Bankrupt Nature break.

I, to my self both Parent am, and Heir;
My Parent Me, and I my Parent bear.
I'm always Diverse, and am yet the Same;
Find a new Life by dying in the Flame:
Chang'd, yet unchang'd, thrô endless Ages I
Wear out alone a long Eternity.
Nor yet can I with all my Pomp and State
Keep Scandal off, th' Attendant of the Great;
The Sceptick World only believes, I'm bred
In the warm Climes of a Romantick head.

My tedious Years I without Joys delude
In my uncomfortable Solitude:
The Birds and Beasts, and all the World besides
At Spring's approach do choose their Loving Brides,
Into Extatick Charms the hours improve,
And melt the Circling Moments into Love.
Those happy Minutes are to Me unknown,
Not all my Spices can their loss attone;
But I am curs'd, because I am Alone
“'Tis oft the Lot o'th' eminently Great,
“To want those Pleasures, meaner Men await;
“Captives to Grandeur, and the Slaves of State.

An Epitaph on his Dear Friend Mr. Robert Cony, the Younger, who died November the Ninth 1681. and lies buried in Weypole-Church in Marchland Norf.

By J. B.

In Prime of Youth and near to Manhood drawn,
Here envious Night opprest my hopefull Dawn:
Before the Nuptial Crown adorn'd my Head;
Before I tasted of the Bridal Bed,
In Parent Dust seal'd up to Death I lie
A sad Example of Mortality.

Beauty and Youth and Wit and Wealth are vain;
For I had All: Yet all could not obtain
A short Reprieve from the Unwelcome Grave:
The last Possession, that Poor Man must have.
Then let All know, how Nought by Death's regarded;
And Vertue's in the other World rewarded.

To my Worthy Friend Mr. Joshua Barnes B D. Senior Fellow of Emmanuel College, on his Incomparable History of King EDWARD the Third, &c.

To bring back Fate, which knows not to Return;
And raise the Heroes from their silent Urn;

Long-past revolving Ages to restore,
And Acts, done many hundred Years before,
Mauger Oblivion, in Just Garbs to dress,
And bring August Shades from their dark Recess,
Out of the gloomy hidden Cave; where ly
Days past, like Dreams, and waning Moons slid by;
And mixed Heaps of lost Mortality:
To raise the World anew; lost Years to trace,
Make present Times to Ages past give place;
And Monarchs once again with their old Crowns to Grace:
Fame's quite-spent Lamp more brightly to Renew:—
Seem'd, Learned Friend, a Task befitting You.

The Ancients dream'd of Charmes, that brought the Moon
From her bright Orb, strugling, enraged, down:
But None could e're dark Shades to Life restore,
And break Fate's Adamantine Gates before;
Except Alcides and Apollo's

Æsculapius.

Son;
This They could do, and You as much have done:
Nay more, for You no common Life do give;
Your Heroes to Eternity do Live!
With this Addition to their smiling Fate,
You make them Happy, as You make them Great,
And add not onely to their Life, but State.
Old Time in Your Learn'd Work grows Young again:
In You our Valiant Worthies Live and Reign.
Their Souls, as Rivers under Mountains Dive
And after in the open Air revive,
In our Great WILLIAM and his Captains Live.
The Mighty Grafton like Your Chandos fell,
He liv'd, as Bravely, and He dy'd , as well:
To Edward That, and This to William Dear,
And both the GARTER'S honour'd Badge did wear:
Both dy'd too soon:—But both Immortal are.

Nor do Your Heroes now Ignobly stand;
Once more they Influence their Native Land:
You give them Life, and they do Souls bestow,
They actuate the Senceless Clods below;
Reading their Acts Cowards do Valiant grow.
Th' Effeminate Gallant, on his Bed of Ease,
Feels a new Warmth on all his Vitals seize;
Gets a new Soul from each enlivening Word,
Rises a Champion, and calls for his Sword.
Nothing to' exalt our Glory doth remain,
But to Read You, and grow True Englishmen:
Your Book alone would armed Troops advance,
To claim once more our long-lost Right to FRANCE.

How Boundless was Your Mind; to fill that Sphear,
Where sparkling Fame did lofty Trophies rear!
How Fair and Beauteous Your Idæas were!
That could the Treaties, Councels, Battels, show;
Stupendious Acts, that made even Fate to bow;
And but seem'd fit for Your BLACK-PRINCE to do.
That Reign of Wonder; Gem of Times; the Glory,
But hardest part, of all the English Story:
When one Sun by our Conquering Arms beheld,
Two Monarchs slain, a Third to quit the Field;
Two Captive Kings to London's Tower were brought,
And injur'd Princes here for Comfort sought.
Our Edward then, the whole World's Love and Fear,
Did at his Will the Fate of Kingdoms steer:
Held Europe's Ballance, and fix'd Fortune's Wheel,
And where he turn'd, made Fate's strong Pillars reel.
To Merit more, than to Possess, did choose;
And proffer'd Empire bravely did refuse.
When, Honour's Darling, his Victorious SON,
Kings, as He pleas'd, could make, or could dethrone:
And all the Neighbouring Monarchs thought their Crowns,
Fix'd with his Smiles, but tottering with his Frowns.

When England was the Theatre of Fame,
And Warriours hither to gain Honour came.
Our EDWARD solely Valour's Umpire stood,
His Approbation made the Brave and Good.
Then High Exploits, and Acts on Vertue plac'd,
Above French Princes English Commons rais'd:
That Subjects (Vertue makes the meanest Great)
Five Kings at once could at their Tables treat.
When Victory due to Piety was given:
Their Arms forc'd Kingdoms and their Prayers took Heaven.
When Valiant and Religious Acts could meet,
Christian and Souldier mutually did greet.

History before was but like Fairy Land,
That thick with Monsters and wild Shapes did stand:
'Twas modell'd, not to' instruct; but cheat the Mind,
Truth and its usefull Ends were left behind,
And all for Flattery and mean Arts design'd.
But You did all its Primitive Worth restore;
Truth never look'd so Beautifull before.
Above Expression Soars the lofty Mind;
But You fit Words do for great Actions find.
Your lofty Style's fill'd with such Manly Heat;
You could have fought the Battels, that You writ.
Bold and Expressive, fit for Godlike Men:
Mars tun'd Your Soul and Phœbus steer'd Your Pen.
Our Souls go, as we read; our Present State,
Is lost i'th' Mighty Acts, that You relate;
We Joy at Good and Grieve at Adverse Fate.
We Glorious Patterns in each Line do read,
And here we truly may consult the Dead.

And now — — —
You, Modern Sparks, that in degenerate Ease,
Or active Vice spend Your ignoble Days!

That ne're did crown'd with Forreign Trophies come,
But brought the Vices and Diseases home:
Senceless of-Fame to late Posterity,
You can't be mention'd but for Infamy,
While Your great Sires embalm'd in Honourly.
Read This—and blush to see, how You disgrace
Those Names, whom Vertue to the Stars did raise,
Your Ancestors, their own and Nation's Fame,
You, their Degenerate Sons, to Both a Shame.
They Conquer'd France, which now Your Arms outbraves;
You're Apes to those, were Your Forefathers Slaves.

Why then, my Friend, should Your bright Rays be hid?
And You, that can new Life bestow, ly Dead?
Show to the World, You are for all things fit,
In History True, in

Poema Latinum Heroicum Franciados dictum Libb. 12. jamjam absolvendum.

Poetry a Wit.
That Your Black-Prince can now in You acquire
What Alexander did in vain desire,
An Homer, who his Godlike Acts might praise,
And sound his Honour forth in endless Layes.
So sung by You, shall CRESSY's deathless Field,
Neither to Homer's Pen, nor Maro's yield.
But th' English Valour then shall soar as high,
As ever well-tongu'd Greece or Rome could fly.
Then Kings shall bribe Your Verse, and each Crown'd Head
With emulous Strife shall beg Your Muse's Aid:
Shall doe Great Acts, to be rehears'd by You;
And Vertue for Your Praise's sake pursue.
The Greatest Monarchs court You for their Friend,
And Presents, to bespeak your Favour, send:
Jealously strive each other to outvie
In Gifts to You; Who can return them Immortality.

On Old Age.

I

Old-Age, the State we all desire,
For none would immaturely die:
But Riddles in our Nature lie;
Thô we with frequent Prayers do it require;
Yet when Indulgent Heaven grants our Request,
How are we with its Weight opprest?

II

In vain we for Content do seek;
Tir'd with what doth to us betide,
We wish for things as yet untri'd,
Which, when we have obtain'd, we still dislike.
Gray hairs we pray for, yet when they are come,
We querulously curse our Doom.

III

So Life we do accept, and yet,
If we beforehand could foresee
Of our few days the Misery,
And had our choice, All would refuse the Cheat.
At all Adventures it becomes our Lot,
And's given to those, that know it not.

IV

Except we early Victims fall,
Yet we this State must undergo:
When Age shall wrinkle Cælia's brow,
When Milo shall his shrunken Limbs bewail:
When all the Joys, do upon Youth attend,
Shall in unwelcome Aches end.

V

Yet 'tis our fault, this State don't please;
Our Youth we foolishly engage,
And no Provision make for Age.
Inherent Vanity our Mind doth seize;
None of those Vertues laid in store, that might
Give to the wearied Mind delight.

VI

The Wise and Vertuous well the Time can spend,
When the disinterested Mind
None of the Body's fetters bind;
But Peace and Fame do on Gray hairs attend:
When well-spent Days add to the Aged powers,
And to Old Years insert Young hours.

VII

The cooler hours of elder Days
Are well adapted to Delight,
On whom no turbulent Passions light:
'Tis folly that doth every state debase.
“Nothing more monstrous to the World appears,
“Than Gray-hair'd Fools, or Children of old Years.

Plutarch's Serpent.

A subtle Serpent, that long time did reign
O're all the Subjects of the spacious Plain;
That often to old Age did Youth afford
And with his cast-off Skin new strength restor'd;
In his Divided bosome long did bear
The fatal seeds of an Intestine war.
Th' Ambitious Tail, that long time had been led
(And Justly too) by Conduct of the Head,

To Jove complain'd, that now it was but due,
That he should Govern for a Day or two.
In anger Jove did to the prayer consent
To teach Ambitious Fools to be content;
And a Decree unalterable made,
That in no case the Head should lend his Aid.

The Tail, a part of great Activity,
But with a curse annext, It cannot see,
With haughty Pride assumes the fatal state,
And makes the once-commanding Head to wait:
What was his Lord doth in proud Triumph draw,
And now despises what once gave the Law.
Proud of the Government thrô Woods he hies,
O're Rocks and fatal Precipices flies.
The Head beholds the Danger and doth fear,
The stupid Tail hath neither Eye, nor Ear;
Nor Reason to perceive, when Danger's near.
Till, after many dreadfull Perils past,
The wrigling Tail in narrow holes at last,
And dark blind Caverns, is past help set fast.
Forward he cannot, backward must not move,
And no way's left, but to Petition Jove.
Jove is implor'd, but's Deaf unto the cry,
In the deserved plague doth let him die;
And to the World doth a sad warning shew,
“What, when the Rabble governs, will ensue.

The Looking-Glass to Gellia.

For Interest Men know how to please,
And praise even your Deformities:
Wither'd and Old you shall be Young,
And purchase Beauty from their Tongue.

Not your own Art their Wit shall want,
They'l doe in Words, what you in Paint
If You do laugh, why? I laugh too;
If You do weep, to weep I know:
Yet think not, 'tis for flattery meant;
I what You are do represent.
When You was Young, I show'd You so,
And alter, now You alter, too:
Yet thô I thus Extreams do try,
The Change in You not Me doth lie.
When You with Paint bedaub your Face;
And call back long-lost Youthfull Grace:
When You new Sets of Teeth prepare;
And deck your Head with others Hair:
When You your hated Breath perfume,
And line your Mouth, that stinks of Rheume:
'Tis not my fault, that You look Fair;
I truly show the Cheats, You wear.
With Shows You first the World deceive,
I back to You the Poison give.
Yet, faithless Gellia, know among
The Arts you have to make You Young,
Death can't be chouc'd with borrow'd Grace,
Nor will mistake your Painted Face.
Not all your Instruments of Pride
Your Age's Date from him can hide.
Death knows his Time, will surely come,
And lay You old and ugly in your Tomb.

On Speech.

I

Thou wondrous Modulation of the Air,
The brightest Index of the Heart:
Who all those Lively Signatures dost bear,
By which our thoughts to others We impart!

What else would in Oblivion's shadows sleep,
To Knowledge by thy help doth creep!

II

There's not a secret passion of the Mind,
No Motion in the Soul doth rise;
But it from Speech can fit Expressions find,
And's Judged of more by the Ears, than Eyes.
How do fit Words and Sentences advance,
And on our Tongues in order dance!

III

In various sounds the senceless Creatures play,
And welcome the returning Spring:
Their joys i'th' rudest notes the Beasts Essay;
And tunefull Birds their warbling Carols sing,
Distinct their Voices; only Man is found;
That can Articulate the Sound.

IV

Admired Faculty, that stamps the Air,
And seals upon't, what We would have,
Which doth a Draught of our Idæas bear,
And keeps the speaking Portraitures, We gave,
Doth the Mysterious tract of Thoughts unfold;
Thô each Tongue hath a different Mold!

V

This Privilege, granted alone to Man,
No other Creatures do partake:
Beasts have no Language, 'tis well known; nor can
We prove, what Speech Angels above do speak.
All that belongs to them do Mysteries grow,
Stupendious heights, we never know.

VI

Angelick Motions we can never find,
Nor trace the steps, in which they move.
To our Infirmities they'r not confin'd,
Nor Nature's Laws do fetter them above.

All, that we know of those Superiour Powers
Is, that their State is not like Ours.

VII

They may by Heavenly Hieroglyphicks speak,
To which our Souls can never rise:
Draughts of their thoughts by forms or figures make,
Or unintelligible Mysteries.
Their Tongue all apprehension doth excell,
No Ear can hear't, no Voice can tell.

VIII

What empty shrunken things our Minds would be,
What Melancholy on them seize;
Were they debarr'd the Joys of Phantasie,
And roving Thoughts, which the tir'd Soul do ease:
Where in unbounded fields the Mind may fly,
And find new blandishments for Joy.

IX

How much more miserable were our State,
Were This, our greatest Comfort, fled;
That mollifies the Stings of angry Fate;
Unloads the Sorrows of the anxious Head:
Doth cure the Wounds, that from Fate's Arrows fall,
And in a Friend's Breast buries all?

X

Delight of Life and Mirrour of the Heart,
By which our Thoughts, which none can see,
We to our own and others Joys impart;
And bring to View the boundless Treasury.
Thou of our Inward Soul a Scheme should'st give;—
And curs'd be He, that doth Deceive!

XI

Bond of Society and Tie of Love,
From whence doth lasting Friendship flow:
Thou our Exalted pleasure dost improve;
And art the Universal Soul below.

With raptur'd Joys thou charm'st the fleeting Hours,
And lull'st up Love in shady Bowers.

XII

Rhetorick, that doth th' unstable People move
And raise, or lay, as Storms the Sea,
From well-plac'd Words and Reasons doth improve,
And ows his Energy, bless'd Speech, to Thee.
What was a Chaos, thou a World did'st make:
From thee the Mass did Beauty take.

XIII

The Raptur'd Flights of Poetry do owe
Their Birth and Beauty unto Thee:
From Thee the fam'd Castalian Waters flow,
And in soft Musick's Numbers melted bee.
How low would all their Lofty Flights be laid,
If not in Robes by Thee array'd?

XIV

Reason may in the solid Mind be found,
And Judgment in the Soul appear:
But they'r like Treasures buried under ground,
Or secret Mines, that do no Products bear.
Thou deck'st them in Rich Garbs, and mak'st them shine;
Thou stamp'st them, and they'r currant Coin.

On Time.

Thou saw'st (and oh! how glorious was the sight?)
When the Creation smil'd at Infant Light,
And banish'd all the Dismall shades of Night.
When the bright Births at fruitfull Heaven's command
Immac'ulate drop'd from the Great Workman's hand,
E're Sin, or Curse, their genuine Beauty stain'd.

The Rowling Ages, that have since slid by,
Have all been brought forth by thy Midwifry:
From the first Monarch, but without a Crown,
To Him, that last forsook th' Uneasie Throne.
Thou saw'st at first, when swelling Families,
(Widely dispersing round their Colonies)
Did into Towns; Towns into Cities rise.
When Right of Empire was in Fatherhood,
And every one was King of his own Blood.
Till the Paternal Rule in Numbers lost,
In various Multitudes and Errours crost,
The Reins of Empire were by One ingrost.
Thou saw'st the Faults, in the first Empire grew,
The vicious Habits, its Destruction drew:
Till th' fatal Period swiftly hurrying on,
The mighty Babel from its height was thrown,
And from its shatter'd Limbs, in pieces broke,
Their Rise the lesser States and Kingdoms took:
Till one above the rest more Powerfull grown,
For Justice, Valour, and for Wisedom known,
Exalts by secret steps her lofty head,
And, some by kindness won, and some by dread,
O're all at last doth her wide Empire spread.
Till she, or Cruel, or Effeminate grown,
Less hurt by others Arms, than by her own,
Falls into th' Pit of sure Destruction.

Thus hast thou view'd the slippery State of things,
The Persian, Grecian, and the Roman Kings:
And shortly shal't the sad Catastrophe
And Fall o'th' now-decreasing CRESCENT see.

Wisest of Beings! What we do design,
And in dark Caverns of our Breast confine;
Ev'n where no Thought comes, where no Eye can peep,
But all's lap'd up in misty Clouds of sleep,

What Princes wish, or Cabinet Councils plot,
The Births, that are from their Conjunction got,
Subtlest Interpreter, thou dost reveal;
Thô Oaths and Sanctions do the secret Seal.
Even what Just Heaven before the World decreed,
What can from nothing, but his Hand proceed:
What shall to Peasants happen, what to Kings,
What to the Lofty, what to Humbler things:
What swallows up Man's bold and daring Mind,
And where even Angels can no footsteps find:
What doth surpass th' Intelligences sight,
Or hath, or shall by Thee be brought to Light.

Nor is't enough, thou saw'st the former days,
And in our Times know'st, what will come to pass:
But when this Generation hath its Doom,
And crowding Numbers in our Places come;
When all, that now is High, must Low be laid,
And Generations after Us are dead:
Then Thou wilt see, what now doth fly our Eyes,
What Abject People shall to Empire rise:
Where Mighty Citties, now their Nation's Glory,
Shall lie in Dust and be forgot in Story:
And in some unthought unsuspected place,
Others shall in their Room their proud Heads raise.
What Families shall up to Rule be born,
Whom Ages past ne're knew, or else did scorn:
And all be to such Alteration brought,
The very Ancient Names of things forgot:
That even the World may in the World be sought.

The Mighty Innovator Time, that brings
Those changes, are not in the Power of Kings.
What neither their Commands nor Arms can raise,
By secret unknown means He brings to pass.

Should Scipio or should Cæsar now awake,
And into Light from their dark Mansions break;
Should They, to what was the World's Mistress, come,
How would they wonder at once Glorious Rome!
Their once-known Palaces would seek in vain,
Nor their Triumphal Arches find remain:
But She that did of the World's Empire boast,
See in her Heaps of Scatter'd Ruines lost;
And to such steps of Desolation led
Her very Name and Valour buried.
Little they thought, what Time would once bring forth,
That the despised People of the North,
The Barbarous Scum, which Roman Souls did hate,
The Dregs and Lees of Men and Scourge of Fate,
Should thrô the Barrs of that strong Empire break,
And the vast Fabrick into pieces shake.
That other Nations proud with their Success,
Should their own Fame and Rome's Contempt increase:
Till o're Her every Land did Conquest boast,
And took again what their Forefathers lost.
They knew not what was in Fate's leaves enrol'd,
Nor would have credited, had they been told:
Such Revolutions there's no Art can tell;
'Tis only Time, that will the Truth reveal.

Time! Thou dost bring things into open view,
But Thou can'st drink a Cup of Lethe too.
Thou over all dost draw a fullen Cloud,
And dost in Mists, what's now apparent shrow'd,
The Acts of Ancient Days, to us unknown,
Buried long since in deep Oblivion:
What Heroes did, and Common People bore,
Forgetfull Time, thou can'st not now restore!
Those Noble Seats, that Honour'd once our Isle,
When Roman Eagles nested in our Soil,

Low with their Mistress Rome in dust are laid;
No footstep's found, may lead unto their Head:
Are sought in vain among their poor remains,
Shown but to puzzle Antiquaries Brains.

As Father Ocean here to Earth doth Lend,
And there his Watry Empire doth extend;
So thou dost sometimes new Inventions show,
But hidest other Rarer Matters low.
Tobacco, Guns, and Printing late arose.
But We are Rob'd of Richer things, than those;
Faith, Justice, Honour, Liberality,
And Ancient Friendship deep in Lethe ly.
Where is an Hero now, that owns a Muse?
Hawks, Hounds, and Mistresses they'd rather choose.

Thy Essence doth a Train of Wonders hold:
Thou never art above a Moment old,
Yet Thou beheld'st the rude mishapen Mass,
E're Light, Heaven's First-born, show'd her darling Face.
The Circling Years do dy and leave their Place,
And new Times in their rooms their Heads do raise:
Yet Thou Coæval with the World dost Live,
And to its utmost Period shalt survive.
Thou'rt ever here, and yet art ever past,
Thou'rt ever dying, yet dost ever last.
Thy subtle Parts always in Motion be,
Yet Thou dost ever a Succession see.
Waves crowd on Waves, and while We look they'r past,
And Eager Brethren after them do hast.
These press the former, those behind them press,
Nor let the fresh Supplies the Stream decrease:
New Waves the Place of what pass'd by retain;
The River yet unchanged doth remain.

Thou of all Jewels the most Precious, (Time!)
Of all the Stores o'th' East or Western Clime.

Imperious Gold, that all things doth command,
Whose powerfull Charms there's nothing can withstand;
Doth here an End of his vast Empire see;
That cannot have an Influence over Thee.
Thy moving Wheels cannot be stop'd by force,
No Bribes perswade Thee to renew thy Course:
Deaf to Intreaties, and to all our Moan,
“Once past, Thou'rt lost, and art for ever gone.
A Drug, while Thou upon our hand dost stay,
Which We well know not how to throw away:
But when thou'rt past, a Jewel in our Eye;
Whom not the Treasures of the World can buy.
Ages before our Birth We can't recall;
They no Relation have to Us at all:
What then was done, as We can ne're retrieve,
So neither are We bound account to give.
The Future Time We know not, that 'twill come;
We may before to morrow have our Doom;
We may be Summon'd by Death's Mighty Power:
And when We dy, Time is to Us no more.
“The Present Time's then all the Time We have,
“Those precious Moments our best Conduct crave:
“That We be Wise our latest Stake to Save.

On a Covetous Man.

Mart. Lib. 4. Ep. 40.

When Heaven to You a small Estate did lend,
You kept your Coach and Footmen did attend:
But when blind Fortune had your Store increas'd,
And ten times doubled what You had at least:
Your Narrow Soul, contracted with the Store,
Lost all the Pleasure, it did tast before.

A Curse into your Treasures Heaven did put;
You groan'd beneath their weight, and went afoot.
For all your Merits what doth then remain;
But that we pray, Heaven send your Coach again?

Dorinda weeping.

I

Stay pretty Prodigal, oh stay;
Throw not those Pearly Drops away:
Each little shining Gem might be
Price for a Captive Prince's Liberty.
See down her Cheeks the shining Jewels slide,
Brighter than Meteors, that from Heaven do glide.

II

Sorrow ne're look'd before so Fair,
Nor ever had so sweet an Air:
All-conquering Rays her Woes do dart,
And unknown Passions to the Soul impart.
More Fair she looks, while Grief her face doth shrowd;
Than the Sun peeping thrô a watry cloud.

III

Oh turn away those Killing Eyes!—
Venus from such a Sea did rise.
Love doth in Tears triumphant ride;
Such mighty Charms can never be deni'd:
That at one sight such different Passions move,
Relenting Pitty and Commanding Love.

IV

Come, curious Artist, as they fall,
Gather the shining Jewels all:
Harden the Gems, and each will be
More valued, than the Indie's Treasury:

But if the secret doth exceed thy Art,
It is but borrowing Hardness from her Heart.

To Sr. James Butler, on the Death of the Lady Butler:

In a Dialogue between H. and J.

(H.)
Welcome dear Friend! Thou dost my Griefs dispell,
No Sorrow long can wound, when Thou art well.
Ill-boding Dreams o're my sad Fancy rowl'd,
And the approach of some black Fate foretold:
Strange frightfull Spectres o're my Mind were spread;
I saw the Vertues and the Graces bleed,
As thô the Soul o'th' Universe was dead.
Avert the Omen Heaven!

(J.)
Thy Cautions spare,
There's nothing left that now deserves thy Care.
All Worth and Excellence with One is fled,
The Quintessence of all, that's Great, is dead.
Th' Expiring World groan'd at Her Funeral,
With whom the Glories of her Sex did fall.

(H.)
What ill do my Presaging thoughts Divine?
Spare One, Just Heaven, I'll to thy Will resign;
One Inno'cent spare; and all the rest be Thine.

(J.)
We multiply the sorrows, that we dread,—
Meet then the Storm that hover's o're thy Head;
The Fair, Chaste, Spouse of Noble Butler's dead.

(H.)
Too much—Fate hath not now a Curse in store,
I've heard the worst of Ills, and Fear no more.

(J.)
The whole World seem'd distracted at her fall,
Amazing Horrour seized upon All.

So, when the Sun's Eclips'd, with Panick fear
The Savages confused Cries do rear,
And think, the World's Catastrophe is near.
With frightfull Fury hideously they roar
To scare the Monster, would the Sun devour.
They gain their Point, but we lament in vain,
Our Sun is set, never to Rise again.

(H.)
Yet let's Lament; 'tis all that we can doe,
To think of Bliss, that's past, amidst our Wo,
Heightens our Grief; but vents our Sorrows too.

(J.)
She fell an Holocaust of Chast Delight,
Beauteous and Fair, as Rays of new-born Light.
Charming, as Vertues i'th' Idæa be,
Or Graces, seen by th' Intellectual Eye.

(H.)
So falls the Rose, Queen of the fragrant Bowers,
She falls the Glory o'th' Enamell'd Flowers,
While Heav'en laments her Death in melting Showers.

(J.)
To blooming Youth a boundless Wit was given,
Not got with Labour, but infus'd from Heaven.
Beauty did o're her Soul and Body shine,
Her Body seem'd, ev'n as her Soul, Divine.

CHORUS.
Wit, Youth, and Beauty made Her Bright,
Did all in Her agree:
None else, but Phœbus, God of Light,
Is Sourse of all the Three.

(H.)
Angels can't sin: They'r plac'd in such a State,
They nor can Fall, nor can Degenerate.
They merit Praise, who by their Choice are Good,
Not those, who can't be Vitious, if They wou'd.
Nor justly can Rewards to Angels come;
Vertue's not Abstinence in them, but Doom.

How high and Glorious do Her acts appear,
That liv'd in Heaven, thô in this lower Sphear:
And, thô a Mortal, rival'd Angels here?
They've no Temptation, and She scorned all:
They live Above, She trampled on this Ball.
To what was Good, like Angels, vigorous still,
And every thing did Dare to doe, but Ill.

(J.)
What Vertues were there, but her Soul did grace,
Vertues not known, but in an Higher place,
Nor acted, but by the Seraphick Race?
Her Help, like Guardian Angels, she bestow'd,
Bounteous as Nature, or as Nature's God.
On all she look'd with an Auspicious Ray,
So Good, from Her none went displeas'd away.
And so Devout, she seem'd all o'r Divine,
That Hallelujah's her whole task had been,
Or that one Saint pray'd at another's Shrine.

(H.)
She's Dead! not all her Worth could bribe her Fate;
So in the Grave, divested of all state,
Lie Young and Old, the Humble and the Great.
Thou, Butler's Hero, who 'mong all the Stars
Of Courtly Beauties ne're saw'st One like Hers,
Art left like Us in vain to seek relief:
“Greatness is not exempt from Fate or Grief.
That Loss is trivial, which we can supply,
How stinging that, which Riches cannot buy,
Nor doth i'th' reach of Art or Honour lie!
To Thee a while the Heavenly Form was show'd,
Worthy the Gift or Ransome of a God.
Thy blessed Arms the Treasure did enfold,
(Too soon, alass! with Saints to be enrold.)
And when thy Soul did to high Transports rise,
She sunk from thy Admiring, Longing, Eyes.

Who can wish Thee thy Sorrows to refrain?
Even the Souls in Hell know no such Pain,
As once to' have been in Heaven and then to lose't again.

(J.)
Farewell, Heaven's Best of Gifts! In Thee were laid
Perfections, that have Gods of Mortals made.
Greatness of Soul, without insulting Pride.
Humility, where no mean thoughts reside;
And Vertue, unto Candour near ally'd!

(H.)
Thou Highest Point, that Nature could attain
The Moddel, She can never reach again.
Th' Acme, to which our finite Worth can rise,
Perfect, if Ought can be below the Skies.

CHORUS.
The World no longer gives us Ease,
All here must loathsome be:
But doubly Heaven our Souls will please,
When there We meet with Thee.

On a Pearl.

I

The daring Negro dives for Me,
And I'm the noble Price of Blood:
Blind with my Rays he doth no danger see.
The common Stones in Quiet sleep;
Nor are torn from their Mother's Arms, the Deep.
So curs'd 'tis to be eminently Good;
No Rocks, nor shelters Me can shrowd.

II

Some say, I am condensed Dew,
And from high Heaven my Extract claim:
That Drops, whom Night upon the Sea doth strow,

My eager Parents swallow down,
Till they are big with Heavenly Embrio's grown:
From Pearly Drops of Dew at first I came,
And hardned I am but the same.

III

My Worth I from Opinion get,
And roving thoughts o'th' empty Mind:
In Me the Price of Provinces to eat,
The lavish Cleopatra taught,
And drink dissolved Kingdoms at a Draught.
Such Sparkling Juice not Gods themselves can find;
But must to Nectar be confin'd.

IV

Condens'd in Regions of the Main,
The Wise think Me a Sunbeam set;
Where I my Orient hew unchang'd retain:
When Sol doth gild fair Thetis face,
And the Sea represents a Burning-glass;
Where the contracted Rays in one do meet,
Hardned by Cold they Me beget.

V

Yet thô I'm of Æthereal kind,
My Habitation is but mean;
To rugged Rocks and Oyster-shells confin'd:
So Heaven doth many a Gallant Mind,
To a deformed crazy Body bind.
Both promise little, while the Shell is seen,
But yet the Pearl is found within.

On the Earth, our Common Mother.

Thou Universal Mother of Us all,
From whom the Creatures have Original;

From Monarch Man, with awfull Empire crown'd,
To the base Reptile creeping on the ground.
There's nothing, that hath Life, but owes its Birth
To Father Sun and teeming Mother Earth.
With genial Warmth He doth Her bosom heat,
She with wide Arms doth his Embraces meet:
Conceives, grows big, and from Her fruitfull Womb,
The Lovely Births in Beauteous Order come.
Nor Life alone Her Liberal Hand doth give,
Her Bosom bears the Food, on which they Live.
With needfull Herbage She doth cloath the Field,
That Nourishment to Man and Beast doth yeild.
Each Species of Her Creatures finds Her Good,
Appropriating to each kind Her Food.
And, that the Generations might not end,
With seminal Vertue She doth them befriend.
Each Creature gets his Like, and not one Plant
A way to Propagate his Kind doth want.
Unlike the Tree, from whence it fell, the Seed
By wondrous Vertue doth the Species breed.
And, what no form o'th' Parent doth retain,
By Plastick Power doth get its Like again.

Nor is She Mother and kind Nurse alone;
Her Arms receive Us, when our Race is run:
And when our wearied Days we bring to end,
We find Her Bosom an Eternal Friend.
There in our Resting-place we all lie down,
All sence of Grief and former Sorrow flown,
“Life is to Trouble ty'd, the Grave to none.
The former Ages, that long since slid by,
At Quiet in Her Clasping Arms do ly.
The King and Peasant do together rest:
No Pride fills One, nor Envy th' Other's breast.
The present Ages the same Fate shall have,
Tend to their Common Resting-place the Grave.

And Ages not yet sprung from Fate's Decree,
When they've run out the Line of Destiny,
(An equal Fate Death upon all things brings)
Shall all be lost i'th' Mass and crowd of Things.
So doth the River borrow from the Main
Those Streams, that rest not, till they'r there again.
From its first Rise thrô devious ways it goes,
With swift unwearied Course to th' Sea it flows,
And in its Mother's Lap seeks long Repose.

The Parting Lover.

I

Beneath a Mournfull Yew, more than half-Dead,
The Melancholy Damon sate;
With Moving Accents sighing out his Fate,
The Object of his Passion fled:
Cælia, the Glory of the Plains,
Cælia, the Flame of all the Youthfull Swains;—
With pale dead Eyes he saw her Flight,
His Eyes Just closing in Eternal Night.
His loaden bosom thus his Sorrow spoke,
His Words and Heart thus at one instant broke.

II

“So by Design or Chance, some Lonely Wretch,
“Left on a distant, Northern, Land
“With Swelling Eyes beholds the barren Strand,
“Th' uncomfortable, naked, Beach;
“Where grizely Famine leads the way,
“Fruitfull in nothing, but in Beasts of Prey.
“Monsters behind his back do roar,
“The Sea Destruction doth present before.
“And if to Heaven he looks with weeping Eyes,
“He sees that setting Sun, that ne're will rise.

III

“What shall He do, lost Wretch! Where shall He go?
“His Sighs the Fatal Winds increase;
“And flouds of Tears do swell the Mounting Seas:
“All things conspire unto his Woe.
“The ragged Rocks no comfort give,
“The barren Sands on them forbid to Live.
“With sooty Wings sad Night draws on,
“A Night, that ne're will see a Rising Sun:
“Till griping Famine him doth eat away,
“Or He to hungry Jaws becomes a Prey.

IV

“And to increase his Woe, far off at Sea
“The Ship, in which his Hope's confin'd,
“Opens Her Bosom to the Prosperous Wind,
“Regardless of his Misery.
“Loudly He doth of Fate complain,
“Loudly laments his Wretched State in vain.
“The Noisy Billows cannot hear;
“Relentless Rocks are deaf unto his Prayer.
“The floating Ships before the Winds do play:
“The Winds bear them, his Hopes, and fruitless Prayers away.

The Chase of the Fox at Welby 1677.

To St. John Bennet of Welby, Esquire.

The Morn was fair and still; the Heaven was clear,
And not one sullen Star would disappear:
The Winds were not yet up; but in their Beds
In a deep Sleep had sunk their Drowsie Heads:
The Sluggard Sun had not yet left his Rest,
Nor rais'd his weary Head from Thetis Breast:
When I in Field a Gallant Train did meet,
For Vigorous Sport and Generous Actions fit:

They all on winged Coursers mounted stay
And big with Expectation wait the Prey.

Their curious Spies they first send out to try
And make Discovery of the Enemy:
These scorn, as others do, to trust the Sight,
Abus'd so oft, so seldom in the Right:
Which every palpable Appearance scapes,
And cheats it with Imaginary shapes:
A surer Guide leads these sagacious Spies,
That makes the Nose supply the place of Eyes.

Their cautious Foe, the Fox, had fled the Light,
And wisely before Day had crept from fight;
Gorg'd with his Prey, and in his Brakes immur'd,
Fearless He slept and thought himself secur'd:
But his Pursuers trace his hidden Course,
And follow him by a Magnetick Force,
First they employ their curious Nose to find
Those subtle Atoms, he had left behind:
Those Exhalations in his Footsteps lie,
That from his Breath, or from his Sweat do flie;
So small, they to our Eyes do disappear,
And undiscern'd mix with the Common Air.
These, as i'th' wanton Wind they play about,
Their Noses, Chymist-like, can draw them out;
And following the Stream, these Atoms make,
Run to the place, from whence the Fountain brake.
Mean while the Fox, wak'd with th' unusual Noise,
And with Attentive Ears catching the Voice,
Fears some Pursuers; but doth wonder, how
Thrô all his Mazes they his Course should know:
What Eyes could trace his Footsteps on the Green,
What Witchcraft thus could follow him unseen.
But now not trusting to a Longer stay
Resolves with silent Steps to steal away,

And use those secret Arts, and that Deceit,
With which his raging Followers he could cheat:
But as he thrô the shady Goss doth slide,
By one o'th' Watchfull Huntsmen he's espi'd.

His Joyfull Horn doth quickly tell it out,
And's Eccho'd back again by all the Rout:
A noise more Dismall than the Mandrake's Voice,
A Noise, that chills the Fox's Blood to Ice.
The Sentence not more sad to th' Guilty Man,
Or Cannon to the trembling Indian.
Thunder speaks Musick to't. Death's in each Note,
And sure Destruction breathes from every throat.
A Plague lies in each Breath, He hates to meet;
And wishes oft, his Ears were turn'd to Feet.
Yet to his Arts he flies, and all doth use,
With which so oft he could his Foes abuse.
The River, with his wanton Banks that plays,
Runs not more secret, nor more winding Ways,
Nor Dancing Atoms change more quick their Round,
Nor Snow, that hovers loth to touch the Ground.
But all (alass!) in vain his Arts he tries,
In vain Acts over all his Treacheries:
And like those, that would from Diseases run,
He flies a while from what he cannot shun:
Nor can He hope to scape, thô ne'er so fleet,
That Death, that's brought him by an Hundred feet.
For the quick-scented Dogs thrô all the Ways,
And those strange Shapes, that cautious Reynard plays,
With an unerring Course pursue their Chase,
Follow him, where no Tract is left behind,
And catch the Scent, that dances in the Wind;
Extract it from the Mass of other Parts,
And find it, thô mix'd with a thousand Arts.

Noses so quick and pure, methinks, should find
The Secret tract, an Angel leaves behind:
And might with little pains in time be brought
To trace the wandring Passage of a Thought!

Thus, while they follow with an eager Cry,
And chase their faint and panting Enemy,
O'th' suddain all was hush'd, and every Throat
In a dull silence choak'd his joyfull Note.
No Shout, nor Noise, did rend the parting Air,
Only the raging Huntsmen fret and swear.
All ply their busie Noses, round they coast
To catch that Scent, which in the Crowd was lost:
Till the Grave

One of the Finders.

Talbot with a Spanish pace
The long-lost and neglected Scent doth trace;
Finds what their eager Hast had left behind,
And catch'd it Just dissolving in the Wind.
He gives the Signal; strait they follow, all
With their Loud throats do one another call,
And, striving to regain the Time, they'd lost,
With doubled Hast after their Foe they post:
And with such winged Speed they now pursue;
The unknown Foe is quickly brought to view.

When lo! a mixed Crowd from th' neighbouring Town,
Warn'd by the Noise, tumultuously came down;
All, arm'd with Pitchfork, Spit, Flail, Spade and Pole,
To kill the Fox, that had their Poultry stole,
Outnoise the Dogs, and with loud Curses fill
The Air with sound of Follow, follow, kill!
“Kill him, cries One, he stole my Peckled Hen,
“And got my fatted Capons out o'th' Pen.
Another Woman lets her Tongue fly loose,
And cries, “the Thief did kill her Brooding Goose.
“My Cock, saith One, my Turkey, saith Another,
“My pretty, Copled, Pullet, cries the tother,

Then all poor Reynard with fell Curses rate;
With Noises rude and inarticulate.

The Amazed Fox, astonish'd at the Noise
Much of the Dogs, more of the Women's Cries;
Seeing his useless Arts no help could show,
Resolves at last to see, what Force would doe:
Summons his Vigor, doth new Courage rear,
And down the Wind his even Course doth steer.
So some smooth River, loth to leave the Plains,
And those fresh Fields, where Mirth and Pleasure reigns,
In many wandring Turns his Passage takes,
A thousand Stops, a thousand Windings makes:
Plays with his flowry Banks, oft turns his Head
And with full Eyes o'relooks his watry Bed,
Courts every wanton Shade, and feigns Delay,
Untill at last, unable more to stay,
Forc'd by the raging Streams, that do descend,
His direct Course He to the Sea doth bend.

The Fox begins; the Chase they all pursue,
Swift, as wing'd Thoughts e're to far Countries flew:
Light's slow to them, the sluggish Wind doth stay;
They catch that Scent, his Wings had bore away.
All that by Force or Courage could be shown,
That could by Swiftness, or by Art be done;
Th' Industrious Fox did for his Safety try;—
“But there's no struggling with our Destiny.
He's grown Infectious to himself;—They find
His Course by th' fatal Breath, he left behind.
His Breathing brings his Ruine on; that Breath,
That gives to others Life, to him gives Death.
Death doth from Breathing, or Refraining grow;
To Breathe is Death, and not to Breathe, is so.

At last the Fox unable more to strive,
Unable more their Fury to survive:

Seeing i'th' Dog's approach his certain Fate,
Resolves to sell his Life at a dear rate.
So some great Hero, compass'd by his Foes,
Death and Destruction all around him strows:
With fiery Rage on all Opposers flies,
And makes a Bulwark of slain Enemies:
Sure not to Live, unwilling yet to dy,
Till he hath left a dear-bought Victory.
Thus the brave Fox, when all his hopes were dead,
And no way left to hide his loathed Head,
Resolves, he will not unrevenged dy,
Nor fall a tame and heartless Enemy:
With Rage salutes the First; his bloody Jaws
Fix'd on the next, do make the Others pawse,
And keep an awfull Distance; Till they all
With one accord upon their Foe do fall.
In vain he strives, in vain he fights; for soon
Being by the Raging Tempest overthrown:
He with a faint and trembling Voice doth cry;
“I liv'd by Rapine and by Rapine dy.

On a Mandrake.

I

The Play of Nature under ground,
The Draught, that from her Hands doth fall
In Regions, where no Light is found,
But Sullen Darkness Covers all:
Like Man; as like, as Draughts could be;
Where Nature had no Eyes to see.

II

Each Limb and Part exactly drawn,
Doth much our Admiration raise;
Nature her Mimick Art hath shown,
And wantonly with Mankind plays:

And, thô it may seem useless, yet
The very Sex She don't omit.

III

In this the Picture doth excell,
And doth above the Substance rise:
The Mandrake doth in Regions dwell,
Unseen, unknown to Mortal Eyes;
And, where our final Rest we have;
Doth Live and Flourish, in the Grave.

On Man's unhappy Composition.

Unhappy Man! how ill in Thee are Join'd,
A Feeble Body, and an Active Mind.
A Soul of Fire, a Body but of Earth;
That do from different Regions draw their Birth:
One Natu'rally doth tend to Heaven above;
Th' Other tow'rd Earth, from whence it came, doth move.
When such Discordant Parts in Man do meet,
They Justle and each other roughly Greet:
The Motions of the Soul the Body sway,
Which every Nod and Impulse should obey:
But at each Sally of the Towring Mind,
With wearied Journeys That doth lag behind.

Thoughts are our Plagues; the Beasts, that none do know,
Are Free from trouble and resentment too.
As Nature bids, they every thing receive,
And take it, as her Bounteous Hand doth give.
No pining Thoughts do sowre the Joys, they tast,
No preying Passion doth their Body wast;
While Ours by the Souls Motion's worn so thin;
'Twill scarce keep Life, and Breath, Life's Tenant, in.
At Things above Ambition makes us Soar,
And grasp at what is plac'd beyond our Power:

Our feeble Strength we ne'r consult: And then
No wonder, We are tumbled back again.
A chain of Sorrows hangs upon our State:
We for Impossibilities do wait,
Anxiously seek for what will never come,
And yet are angry, when We meet our Doom.
The fault doth not in outward Causes ly,
But in our Judgment, that is warp'd awry.
Our Power's confin'd, and we should Happy be,
If We the Limits of our Power could see.
If We could fix our wandring Thoughts at home,
Nor let beyond our Sphear our Wishes roam,
All things, We see, are Passive here below,
Nor from themselves their Power-to-act doth flow,
They'r dead, unless some greater Essence give
Influx of being, that may make them Live.
'Tis only Heaven doth purely act, and can,
Crumble in Dust the vast Designs of Man:
His Will must stand, whatever We Design,
Nothing can stop the course of things Divine.
All Aids are useless; what is Infinite,
Doth need no Help, nor doth Increase admit.

How Happy Man, was He intirely One,
Nor did admit of Composition;
Was his Æthereal Soul of Heavenly breed,
Like Angels, from the clogs of Matter freed:
Or, like the Beasts, only with Flesh array'd,
And only of unthinking Matter made.
One State would all his Hopes and Thoughts exceed;
By th' Other He would from all Care be freed.
Excess of Joy in One his Soul would Crown;
In th' Other Ignorance all Fears would drown.

The Sceptick, against Mechanism.

Learning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line,
And weakly do we guess at things Divine!
When those near hand our strict Discovery fly,
What Hopes to dive into Infinity?
The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire,
And boldly doth to every thing aspire:
But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall;
When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!
Our Apprehension Angels do exceed,
Like Thought, they can to distant Regions speed,
Nor helps They for Progressive Motion need.
Yet Mysteries, deep hid, they cannot find,
Such as Exceed th' Intelligences Mind,
And render all created Beings Blind.

No more, vain Friend, your useless Knowledge show,
Lost in Abysses, that no bottom know:
Lapp'd up in Shades, where not one cheerfull Ray
Amid the dismal Darkness points out day.
I grant your Skill,—but how far doth it reach;
Or what import the Mysteries, you teach?
If solid Orbs cramp up the Heaven above,
Or if they Free i'th' fluid Æther move:
What unseen Spring to them doth Motion give?
Leave these to those, who in those Regions Live.
How the Sun's piercing fire and genial heat,
Doth Mettals under Massy Rocks beget:
What are the Marchafites, of which they'r made,
And changing Salts, in the Composure laid:
How Heat Course Mettals into Gold refines,
(The Art for which the broyling Chymist pines)
Leave this (if such there be) to Dæmons of the Mines.

How Orient Pearls from Heavenly Dew are bred,
And, by what They at first were made, are fed.
The Wonders that in Neptune's Storehouse be,
The ragged Sea-calves better know, than We.
Thou think'st to search all with thy narrow Mind;
The Grasp's too wide for what is so confin'd.
Be Man: And if thou can'st, Inform me how
This Tree, this Flower, this Spire of Grass doth grow:
Why the same Moisture different Shapes doth wear;
Why this doth Green, why this doth Red appear;
Why this doth Fruit, this Flowers, this Herbage bear:
How each a seminal Vertue doth retain,
And, thô not conscious, gets his Like again:
Whose Plastick Vertue can new Being give,
From whom new Birth, when Dead, they can receive,
And even burnt Flowers can from their Ashes live.
How doth the Imp, when with the Stock 'tis knit,
The Stock's rough Juice to its own Nature fit,
And in the twisted Knot doth sweeten it?
Or Buds of generous Fruits in Wild ones set
A precious off-spring from base Plants beget?

Our Knowledge by the Sence's help we find,
'Tis those deceitfull Guides inform our Mind.
If then the Medium's false, thrô which Arts go,
How can we hope the genuine Truth to know?
The Water pure and clear i'th' Fountain flows;
But with ill Mixtures doth its Nature lose;
And tasts of every Soil, thrô which it goes.
We from our Sences upon trust Receive,
And Them, althô they oft delude, believe.
But Truth and Skill must Disputable grow;
If no account we of our Sences know.
If hidden Secrets in their Nature lie,
That all our diligent Enquiries flie,

If we their Nature strive to search in vain,
What then's the Learning, that by them we gain?

That we do Hear and See, we all do grant,
But of the manner how, are Ignorant.
If then in things within us we may err,
With which each Moment we'er familiar:
What hope remains, that we the Truth should find
Of things without, by our deluded Mind?
The Sense deceivs us, and like Painted Glass
Tinges all Objects, that do thrô it pass.

All Sense is made by Contact, You allow:
Contact from unseen Particles doth grow,
Which from all Objects to the Senses flow.
If they'r Material, whence do they arise?
What is't their Energy and Force supplies?
Whether they always in the Air do rove,
And wait Impulses, by whose Laws they move?
Or, when they'r wanted, by the Object made,
And thence with Message to the Sense convey'd?
If these their Subtlety to Motion owe,
Fragments, that from attrited Matter grow,
How happ's it, Time hath not worn all things so?
And why may not succeeding Ages fear,
That Length of Time the Universe should wear,
Till nothing Solid in the World appear?
The Senses various Particles employ;
What strikes the Ear, doth not affect the Eye;
And where the Ear is deaf, and Eye is blind,
The subtle Smell can a Sensation find.
The Atoms different, as the Organs are,
And various Forms, various Contextures wear
Besides the different Motions they dispence
From diverse Objects unto every Sense:

By which they to the Judging Soul do show,
Whether they Acceptable are or no.
The Eye doth Knowledge of each Colour take,
That various Motions doth i'th' Organ make;
In such Variety, such Cost and Dress,
Not all the Flowers of Rhetorick can express.
But whether What do these Impulses give
Their Power from Angulous Particles receive;
Or barely they This unto Motion owe;
A Secret lies we vainly wish to know.
Since then Effluviums from all Objects break,
And thrô the Air their unseen Journeys take,
To every Sense in various Measures come;
How is it that the crowding Troops find room?
Numberless Numbers to each Sense repair,
That various Motions, Forms, and Garbs do wear;
Enough to stifle up the liquid Air.
The justling Streams, always in Motions be,
To all around without Distinction fly.
And from all parts of Matter since they flow,
And heady Journeys in cross Paths do go:
Who in their Passage doth prescribe them Laws?
Or guards them, that they no Confusion cause?
Why do not Storms disperse the Rays of Light,
Why not obstruct their Journey to our sight?
Or those bright Rays, that in clear Days arise,
And from ten thousand Objects cheer our Eyes,
Hinder the Motion of progressive Noise?
In the same Moment from all parts they flow,
Contrary Courses in their Journeys go;
At the same time all Senses gratifie,
Yet we no Battle, nor Confusion spy.
'Tis true they'r Subtle; But they Numerous are:
They'r liquid: Yet the thwarting troops may jarr;
For waves meet waves, & streams with streams do war.

A Guardian Angel must be their Defence,
Or we must grant, that Atoms have a Sense.
No humane Force their Fury can restrain;
No giddy Chance their Motion can maintain;
No Mechanism their Nature can unfold;
No Laws, nor Rules in Sage's Books enrold.

Nature the Eye in beauteous Orbs hath dress'd,
Laid out more Work on't, than on all the rest;
'Tis her much valued Gem, that doth excell
The Treasure, Mines, or Sands, or Seas reveal:
Whose wise Contexture may deep Wits employ,
And hath made Atheists own a Deity.
Man is a Microcosm; suppose him One,
The Eye is of that Little-World the Sun.
Heaven's first-born Light without this had been lost;
In vain had Nature then been at that Cost.
Yet how this Organ entertains the Light,
And how that wondrous Act is made, the Sight
Whether it Rays receives, or Rays sends-out,
Remains yet an inextricable Doubt.

If th' Eye by sending-forth of Rays doth see,
So great Expence what is it can supply?
How do the Streams make Journeys to the Sky?
For if our Sight we on Emission ground,
We must lend Rays to fill the World around;
These too to' each Object must adapted be
And Images bring back, by which we see.
In vain, what Life and Light doth give, the Sun
His annual and dayly Course doth run;
In vain his chearfull Beams doth send: If we
Can from our Selves the want of Rays supply.
If we do from our Selves send Beams of Light;
What is the Difference betwixt Day and Night?
This then's untenable — —

Yet if the Organ by Reception see,
How flows the Poison from an Envious Eye?
How do his Opticks venemous Beams instill,
And Great Men in the height of Glory kill?
Whence hath the Basilisk his deadly Ray;
That can th' unwary Wretch at distance slay?
How is't, if Wolves first upon Men do look,
Men are with Hoarsness, or with Dumbness strook?
Whence are the Charms flow from a Beauteous Eye?
That do the strugling Slave in Fetters tie?
What Energy doth thrô his Vitals move;
What Magick Charm doth stirr him up to Love?
When Thoughts on winged Particles advance,
When piercing Looks the Lover's mutually entrance,
And their Souls on the fiery Atoms dance?
How is it Cats and Owls see in the Night,
When no Ray can illuminate the Sight.
Their Eyes in Darkness shine; why may not We
Inferr, that they by their own Beams do see?

This Object is a Central Point, from whence
Rays move around the whole Circumference:
To all about, where e're they'r plac'd, do flie;
In every station, do salute the Eye.
Th' adjoining Atom is a Center too,
From whence in equal streams the Rays do flow.
Ten thousand Objects entertain the Eye;
From each ten thousand thousand Beams do fly.
Since in straight Lines the Rays of Sight are led,
How are they truly to the Eye convey'd?
Why don't the Numbers in each way that rove,
The direct Course of steady Beams remove?
Why is no End unto their Motion put;
When they each other Infinitely cut?

But yet admit, they to the Eye arrive,
Who of their Nature can a Reason give!

Do they each Moment from the Sun repair;
Or have they setled Mansions in the Air?
If One; they swifter far than Matter move,
Their Nature from their extract they improve,
And seem a Quintessence sent from above.
What Nourishment must the vast Fount supply;
From whence such Streams incessantly do fly,
And fill the Liquid Air and Spacious Sky?
If from the Sun the Beams of Light do flow,
How doth a Candle the same Office do?
How doth the Glow-worm with the Sun contest,
And Brandish forth her Beams, when He's at rest?
Why's Rotten Wood and Fishes Scales so Bright?
Why doth Sea-water Sparkle in the Night?
These Subtle Parts, if in the Air they lie,
How haps, i'th' dark that they escape our Eye?
And then in Shades of Night why don't We see?
If Colour's in the Superficies made,
And variously, as that reflects, is bred:
If what absorps the Light is Black; that White,
Which forcibly Reflects the Rays of Light;
And all the dresses, that the World can show,
Are the compounded Mixtures of these two:
Why should two Marble Stones of equal weight,
Polish'd alike, equally Smooth and Bright,
Two different Colours wear of Black and White?
The same Contexture, Form, and Parts they show:
From whence in them do different Colours grow?

Admit all Colours, to the Organ brought,
Are by Reflection of the Object wrought:
And Draughts and Schemes present Deform'd or Fair,
As they Impulses rude or pleasing bear:
From various Parts that various Colours grow,
And all do on the Superficies flow;
For under that the Sight doth nothing know:

Whether these Parts, so subtle and refin'd,
That carry the Ideas to the Mind,
Barely by contact do their Acts maintain;
Or do materially invade the Brain,
A pressing doubt doth yet unsolv'd remain.

If these Impulses to the Eye do give,
That thence doth an Account of things receive;
The Sense, that only did from Motion grow,
When Motion sinks and dies, must perish too.
How haps it then, Ideas stay behind,
And, when We please, can paint anew the Mind,
When what created them is fled, like Wind?
If th' Eye into't nothing Material drew,
How is't the Mind can former Objects view,
And dress i'th' Brain the wandring Schemes anew?
How haps, what did unto our Sight advance,
In Dreams again i'th' cheated Soul do dance,
And with fresh Charms the credulous Mind entrance?
Dreams that arise, as all the Learned own,
From confus'd Parts of Bodies seen or known.
If thro the Eye the Vigorous Object darts
Into the Brain these small Aerial Parts;
How are they entertain'd, when Crowds do come?
How do the little narrow Cells make room?
Do all, that to an Object do belong,
Into one Place unmixt with others throng?
If not: how are things past call'd back with ease?
How is, what's gone, remember'd, when We please,
Even Adjuncts and Particularities?
But if new Streams the former do expell,
How is't of former Days we acts can tell?
The various Turns of Years long-since repeat;
What We've seen acted, what We've read, relate.
If Old and New i'th Brain together crowd,
How is it Room and Peace is them allow'd?

How do they and their Equipages come?
For if Material, they must take up room.
And tract of Time would hoard up such a Crop,
The crowded Atoms would the Channels stop,
And choke the Passages of Vision up.

The Ear in winding Labyrinths is laid,
Fit to receive and keep the Sound, is made:
But yet what Mind's so sharp, so deep, so strong,
To tell the Mysteries to this Sense belong?
What Garbs the fluid Atoms do array
When they our Thoughts to others do convey?
Whether the Atoms are of different size,
Or but from various Impulses rise?
When Soft and Melting Streams do flow from Love,
Or Stormy Accents do from Anger move?
Whence flow the Charms that do to Speech belong,
When Graces dance on a beloved Tongue!
Why the same Words from one should Love create,
And from another but ingender Hate?
Who can the Charms of Rhetorick express,
The Tunefull Motions and the Godlike Dress?
What Magick force the Captiv'd Ear doth ty,
When well plac'd Words from Artfull Lips do fly,
And calm or raise the Mind, as Storms the Sea?
How these Impulses, that to th' Ear do pass,
Such transports in the heightned Spirits cause?
The Ferment scarce will cool and sink again,
And Pleasure's more tumultuous, than Pain.
What Motions Speech must to the Ear convey,
Or in how many Forms the Atoms stray?
Since We can scarcely find two words alike,
But all must diversly the Organ strike.
Some no distinct Idea do create;
And Some are what We call Articulate.

The Birds have one, the Beasts another Tone,
And every Species hath a different one.
Beside from senseless things the various Noise,
That from Collision of their Parts doth rise:
What doth from Solids, what from Fluids flow,
What do from Winds, from Seas, and Thunder grow.

Whence are the Charms, that Musick doth dispence;
That lulls in pleasing Slumbers up the Sense?
When Raptures from the Numbers are compil'd,
Which render'd Alexander Fierce, or Mild:
Can quell the Lustfull or Revengefull Flame,
Can Bloody Rage and Savage Fury tame:
Can Conquer when all Arguments do fail,
When Reason's Ineffectual, can prevail:
Can Witchcraft's force and Poyson's fire asswage,
And, when all Medicines fail, Disease's Rage.
What Sorcery doth in these Numbers ly,
And what Enchantment from the Sounds doth fly?
The wondrous Art what Learning can explain,
That from mov'd Air doth all its Vertue gain,
And yet so Forcible and Strong, to call
The Senseless Stones to build Thebe's stately wall?
Enchanting Art! the Learn'd do own in Thee,
The next great Power unto the Deity.
By Musical Numbers, Heaven, they say, was made:
And by their help the Earth in Beauty laid.
Reason and Sense do from thy Concords fly,
For th' Human Soul it self's but Harmony.

Smelling, Thou subtle Sense, what th' Eye can't see,
Nor doth within the Sphear of Hearing lie;
What no Brisk Sallyes, no Impulses brings,
But silent lies hid in the Mass of things;
Thy secret Art can thrô all Mazes find,
Tho with confused Heaps of Parts combin'd.—

But how 'tis done, a Myst'ry yet remains
That Baffles all our curious Wit and Pains.
How is it the Sagacious Hound doth find
The unseen Parts, that mix with Air and Wind?
When with a trembling fear the Prey doth fly,
Employs his eager speed to' outstrip the Eye,
And hopes, that done, no farther Danger's nigh.
How is't, the Wind don't the Composure break,
And all the chain of Steames in pieces shake?
What doth those Parts from mixed Heaps extract,
And render the disjointed Parts-exact?
How doth the Hound pursue, when no tract's shown,
And keep the steady Path, where no Guide's known?
Thô others of the Kind the footsteps tread,
The mixture cannot Him to Errour lead:
How are the Kindred Vapours severed?
How doth He follow what at first He trac'd,
And Hunt without distraction to the last;
And all the bragging Chymist's Art surpass,—
Who, when mix'd Mettals do compound one Mass,
In time, by Pains, and by the help of Fire,
Each Mettal can extract and render each entire.
How is't, the Vultur hath so quick a smell,
He can in distant Realms of Battels tell;
And Slaughters at three hundred Leagues reveal?
How do the Particles of Smell come whole,
That must so far o'r Seas and Mountains rowl?
Who gives them Knowledge to find out the Way?
How haps, they are not wilder'd, while they stray,
Or lost, when they must mix with those of Land, or Sea?
How is it, Pestilential Vapours fly?
Why fix on this, and why the next pass by?
How Poyson they in pleasing Odours breath,
And while We suck Delight, We draw in Death.

No Light of Sense or Reason can descry,
What Steames from Aromatick Bodies fly:
When different Bodies different Odours cast,
And these Effluvium's are unlike the last.
How is it Gums such Streams of sweet diffuse;
And yet in Bulk or Weight do nothing loose?
Thô many Ages they to last are found,
With Odorous Parts incessantly abound,
Impregnate all the Sphear of Air around.
Yet for so great Expence, no great Decrease,
Nor do they grow proportionably less.
Now if these Atoms are Material, why,
Since they the small parts of the Compound be,
Doth not the Whole at length by parcels die?
Do they a secret unknown Vertue bear;
To change into their Kind the Ambient Air:
As all, Fire meets, doth his fierce Nature wear?
As Load-stones in the Iron their Vertue leave;
For what they touch, to Iron again will cleave?
Or do the Odours, that they thus disclose,
When they have circled round, i'th' Drugs repose?
In their first Parent loose themselves again,
And so their Odour, Bulk, and Weight maintain?
As Tapers in fast-closed Urnes are found,u—
(Whose Circling Rays do move for ever round)
To feed on Unctuous Fumes, they from them cast;
Supply themselves, and so can never wast.

I pass the Doubts, that ly i'th' Sense of Tast:
And those as great, that are in Feeling plac'd.
For wheresoe'r We look's an unknown Coast,
Our Mind perplex'd in endless Storms is tost;
And in th' Abyss all Wit and Learning lost.
There may more Senses be, that yet We want,
Whose Absence renders Us so Ignorant.

We known't, how high Angelick Sense doth rise,
Nor what th' Intelligences makes so wise.
We wondrous Acts done by the Creatures see,
Nor can We tell, but they new Senses be.
What makes the Cock at his due Seasons crow,
And Time of Midnight so exactly know?
How doth the Halcyon future Calmes presage,
And how Sea fowl approaching Tempest's Rage?
When they to Isles retire, and Seamen show
(Their Hate and Terrour) Storms before they blow.
Why Palms do flourish, when to Palms they'r nigh;
And when they'r parted, or decay, or die?
How doth the Needle his dear North pursue,
What Sense doth learn him to be ever true?
Why doth the Magnet his Course Iron enfold,
Nor can be Brib'd by what's more Precious, Gold?
The Subjects that for Sympathy are fam'd,
And what by Us Antipathies are nam'd,
May different Senses be; and so may those,
Whose Nature all our Learning can't disclose;
That do above our Ignorant darkness rise,
Lost in the name of Occult-Qualities,
Th' Asylum of the Slothfull or Unwise.

Boast of thy Mechanism, vain Friend, no more;
Nor think these Depths by Reason to explore.
Fix on what Part Thou wilt in all the Round,
Questions arise, thy Wisdom will confound.
What may Opinions try, no Standard's known,
Where Genuine Truth from falshood may be shown;
But gloomy Mists over the Mind do rowl,
And Prejudice doth prepossess the Soul.
All here we know's but Probability,
The Utmost Bound, to which our Wit can fly,
And that which Terminates Philosophy.

100

One Starts a Wit; the Schools his Schemes allow;
Untill Another Specious grounds doth show,
And doth the long-built Fabrick overthrow.
All strive for Empire, both in State and Wit,
He's Victor, unto whom the rest submit.
But here's the Fate of Both, Both slippery stand,
And yield to th' next Intruder their Command.

How wretched 'tis to trust on Chance, that's blind!
It brings no Comfort to the doubtfull Mind.
The Human Soul can't rest on such a Guide,
Nor's with unthinking Matter satisfied.
No Truth from Principles so weak can flow,
The more We search, the Darker still We grow.
Doubts after Doubts arise, and when one's done,
New Crowding Numbers hastning hurry on.
And what appear'd a Trifle to our Mind,
At nearer insight We a Mystery find.
So Countries seem to Seamen from the shore
But small; yet when they farther do explore,
They find with stretch'd-out Arms the widened Coast;
Till the bold Eye is in the Prospect lost.

A Wise, Just, Being over all presides,
The turns of Stupid Thoughtless Matter guides;
Whose boundless Wisdom knows to govern all
The Startling Wonders of this changing Ball.
In Him Man's Happy and his Soul at rest;
Doubts are husht up and Peace becalms the breast.
Courage on his Alliance doth depend;
In Him our anxious Fears and Terrours end.
“We in the Deity alone can rest,
“And in that Acquiescence must be blest.

101

A Pindarique Ode in Praise of Angling.

To My Worthy Friend Mr. Thomas Bateman.

I.

Water , thou mighty Universal Good,
Thou Mother of Fertility;
Thou Nature's Vital Blood!
That thrô Earth's crooked Veins dost slide,
Thrô secret Caverns and dark Ways dost glide;
And with thy Kindly Influence
Dost Life and Vigour to the Whole dispence:
Thy Power doth thrô all Parts of Nature wind;
All, that we Feel, or Smell, or Tast, or See,
All owe their Birth and Growth to Thee!
Thy Moisture doth the parts of Bodies join,
Hard Rocks and Adamants thy Vertue find:
An unseen Balm each Particle doth tie,
Doth them in lasting Friendship twine;
Which, when by Chymick Art extracted thence,
The separated Parts do all
To scorned Dust and Rubbish fall:
Wisely did Thales Thee the Sourse of All things call!

II.

Old Fainting Nature thou dost keep alive;
With pleasing Cordial dost her strength retrieve,
Which she doth thirstily drink down.
And th' Age shall come, as Sacred Bards have told,
Which they in Heaven's high Laws have found enrol'd;
When Heat shall th' Earth's Balsamick Moisture sink,
Insatiate Heat the Radical Moisture drink;

102

And th' Feaverish World shall burn and fry
Deliquiums and strange Syncopes endure
Till th' Hectick Fire beyond all Medicine grown,
The Circling Zodiack shall in pieces fly
And melted by the rageing Calenture,
Th' Eternal Poles shall sink and all
The Massy Rocks, the Earth's Foundation
Into the deep-wrought Pit of sure Destruction fall.

III.

Bless'd Element! How gratefull to my Mind!
Nurse of Delight and pleasing Joy!
What Charms can I in thy Embraces find!
No wonder wise Antiquity
Did Beauteous Nymphs to Chrystal Rivers turn;
And made their Lovers i'th' cool Streams to burn.
Enchanting Goddess! without Thee
The World would all a Lybian Desert be;
Hot scalding Sands would o're its Surface spread,
And noxious Beasts and pois'nous Serpents breed.
Thou deck'st the Lovers shady Bowers,
Thou dressest up the Meads with Flowers;
Thy four-fold Streams thrô Paradise did run
Dress'd by the Hand Divine,
Silver'd by Thee, and Gilded by the Sun.
Ceres to Thee her Growth doth ow;
And Bacchus thanks Thee for his Generous Wine,
Bred by the Sun and thy sweet Flowers!
And Gods to Thee their Gratitude should show,
From whom their Nectar and Ambrosia flow!

IV.

Here in Elysian Fields by chiding Rills
The Off-spring o'th' eternal Hills;
Beneath a pleasing Shade, that can defeat
The Sun's impetuous Heat;

103

Where Zephyr gently murmurs thrô the Bowers,
And dallies with the smiling Flowers,
And all the winged Choristers above
In melting strains sing to the God of Love:
While pleased Nature doth a silence keep,
Even Hills do Nod, and Rivers seem to Sleep:
Here with a Friend, Copartner of my Joys,
Whose Artfull Soul knows every way
The scaly Off-spring to betray,
The bold, the fearfull, or the cautious Prey:
I an extensive Empire lay
O're all the watry Plain;
And numerous Subjects do our Scepters fear.
SALMON, the King of Rivers, that each Year
Removes his watry Court to th' Sea;
But with the Sun and Spring returns again,
And o're all Bars of Art, or Nature, flies,
O're Floodgates, Wears and Rocks his Course doth steer.
And if the Alpes in's Passage lay
Like Hannibal would find, or force, a Way.
The Beauteous TROUT, of the same Princely Blood,
But of a less Estate and kept at Home,
Confin'd to his own narrow Flood,
Can't with such State o're distant Regions roam.
In his own fenced Court secure he lies;
Till by some treacherous Bait betray'd, he dies.
The ravenous PYKE, the River-Wolf, whose Throat
Like Hell promiscuously all swallows down;
Bold and Rapacious a great Tyrant reigns
O're all the Subjects of the watry Plains.
No Kind hath an Exemption got;
To him no Rule of Love or Kindred's known:
The Fury of his Jaws not his own Race can shun.

104

V.

With these the armed PEARCH, that dares
Even with the Tyrant Pyke make wars,
And doth a petty Empire own
O're all the lesser Fry;
Delicious Food to curious Palates known.
BREAM, that i'th' calmy Deeps doth lie
And at great Banquets makes a Dish of State.
BARBELL, the River-Swine,
That doth i'th' watry Regions root and eat:
In hollow Rocks doth place his Seat,
By Floodgates, Cataracts, and Bridges lies,
And all the Force of sweeping Nets defies.
CHEVIN, that under shady Boughs doth play,
And's kill'd more for Delight and Sport, than Prey;
On whom the Hungry even unwilling dine.

VI.

HUMBER and GREYLING, that swift streams do love
Of Derwent, Fruitfull Trent, and Chrystal Dove.
CARP even by Princes priz'd, whom curious Tasts approve;
In fenced Ponds, safe as a Treasure laid,
The Stream's Physician TENCH, whose balmy Slime
Heals all the Maladies of the watry Clime.
The silver EEL, that yet doth keep unknown
Her Secret way of Propagation:
These and a Crowd of Species more
That live on many a distant Shore;
Some that in Beauty do exceed;
Some that in Strength and some in Speed:
And some by Nature arm'd for bloody Fight.
Some that in fertil Mudd do feed,
Some that in barren Sands delight,
Some that fenc'd Rocks and woody Shades do own:
Beside the ignoble lesser Fry,

105

The Rabble of the watry Clime,
Not worth a Fisher's Time,
And more unworthy Memory,
Destin'd by Fate the Greater's Prey to be,
I'th' Water's curs'd Democrasie,
Are Subjects all of our Dominion.

VII.

With artfull Hand and with judicious Eye
We sleave the Artificial Fly.
Nature, the Universal Guide,
In every step and progress She doth make,
Our Art can overtake:
There's not an Insect, dress'd in all the Pride,
In all the pompous gawdy Pageantry,
That Nature's Wardrobe can create,
But our unbounded Art can imitate.
All, that on Plants, or Simples breed,
All, that on Trees, or Waters feed;
All, that the fruitfull Spring,
The Sun and Heat do to Perfection bring;
All, that do grow from Putrefaction:
Each Colour, Shade, and Shape, that's made
I'th' Universal Shop, where lie
The Molds, in which each Creature's laid
And Garbs, each Insect do invest,
Our Artfull Bait puts on,
By a quick Eye and a rich Fancy drest.
So true, it can't Distinguish'd be
By Trout or Greyling's piercing Eye.

VIII.

With Art contriv'd, manag'd with Art, the Fly,
By steady Hand and nimble Eye,
To any distant Place we throw;
And th' fatal Bait to credulous Eyes do show:

106

VVary, as Treason lurks, we move
Silence do all Conspiracies improve.
The deadly Bait shakes pendent in the Air,
Deadly and fatal, as a Blazing star,
Destruction with it falls to all, are near:
Infectious Influence it doth breathe
None can its Charms deny:
“So steep and slippery are the Ways to Death.

IX.

Sometimes in pitty to the watry Race
Our generous Endeavours press
To kill the Raving Tyrant of the Flood
The Pyke, that his own Subjects makes his Food;
Way lays the Streams and beaten Roads
And common ways to their Aboads,
And all, that in his Reach do come,
Do-in his hungry Entrails find a Tomb.
Hunger, that Death to all about doth breathe,
Fatal to him doth his own Death bequeath:
A Captive Fish in Chains we tie;
Which, Decius-like, with comely State
Doth for his Kindred's safety boast to die:
With all inviting Motions plays,
That may desire and hunger raise,
And draw the Tyrant to the deadly Bait:
And how doth he rejoyce,
To perish with him in one common Fate?
While all the Kindred Fry,
In crowding Shoals express their Joy,
That now untroubled Peace doth o're the Waters fly.

X.

Of Old — — —
The happy Man, that did a Tyrant stay,
And a slav'd People to their Freedom bring;
Or He, that from some deadly Dragon's Sting,

107

Or bloody Jaws of Beasts of Prey
The frighted Multitude did free;
Each joyfull Mouth did sing his Praise,
With honour'd Wreaths each hand his Head did crown:
Statues and Obelisks the Crowd did raise;
And Garlands on Triumphant Arches nod;
And the next Age made him a God:
Thus Python's Death Apollo's Godhead gave;
And Hydra slain render'd Alcides Brave.
What Honour then to Us belongs,
What Praises, and what just Renown,
Who th' watry Race from their Great Tyrant save?
The watry Race, whose silent Tongues
Cannot in melting Numbers Pray,
Nor Thanks for Favours lent repay!
Mean Souls may long Intreaties love,
Them Prospects of Rewards may move:
That Favor's Great, which without these is Generously done.

XI.

Sometimes with patient Skill
We watch the Motion of our trembling Quill:
No Force, nor Tyranny we use;
Each Fish, or may accept, or may refuse:
And no One's took, but he that will.
All the inviting Baits we prove,
Which Nature naked doth present,
Or Art, her Handmaid, doth improve:
And if we find their Stomacks low
All Dainties, that on Nature's Bosom grow,
And all sweet melting Pasts we use;
Rich, Aromatick, Drugs infuse
With cleanly Art and Neatness spent:
(Cleanliness much the watry Race doth love,
Who every moment wash their Filth away.)

108

All, that may please their curious Scent,
Or their more-curious Eye;
That those, whom Hunger doth not move,
Are took by Wantonness and Curiosity:

XII.

Bless'd Art! for Contemplation fit,
And towring Sallys of the Mind;
Where Fancy free and unconfin'd,
To distant Objects takes her Flight.
Sometimes from streams in humble Vales below
We to th' Celestial Cataracts do rise,
And visit all the Scaly Race
That streams, above-the-Firmament, do grace,
And Angle with a Jacob's Staff!
Now we to meaner Subjects bow,
On our own Chrystal Rivers gaze,
And see the World decipher'd in the Glass,
And at its serious Follies laugh!
See Tyranny i'th' Ravenous Pyke is shown,
I'th' Armed Pearch Oppression,
And in the Servile Crowd Passive Subjection;
The Servile Crowd, that ne'r of Wrongs complain.—
Curs'd Democratick State;—
That doth no Law of Precepts own,
But headlong Fury over all doth reign.
And all the lesser Fry
Without or Crime, or Cause, must dy,
Onely because they'r Small and others Great.

XIII.

Raptur'd Delight! the Soul, that loves not Thee,
Whom Fatal Pleasures o'th' Deceitfull Court,
Or Sycophantick Flattery,
Whom Riches, or whom Honours sway,
Or whom Revenge doth draw away,

109

Or other low or base Design mislead
From thy serener Sport;
May He upon some naked Beach,
That o'r those Streams doth hang, he cannot reach,
Or may he in a Lybian Desert dwell
With burning rowling Sands o'respread,
One Degree on this side Hell:
May he among the Cinders live and burn,
Till he a perfect Salamander turn:
With raging Thirst for cooling Currents long,
But never get one Drop to cool his Tongue.
And if a Fish he e'r doth chance to see,
May it a Crocodile or Hydra be:
May scaly Serpents round his Temples twine,
Serpents, whose Heat
Their blood doth up to Poyson boil:
May Asps and Adders be his Meat,
And blood of Dragons be his Wine;
May He far off behold a flowry Plain,
And winding Rivers thrô it smile,
Like Tantalus to' increase his pain:
May these to him be seen,
As to the Damn'd the Joys of Heaven, with a vast Gulf between!
May all these Plagues doubled to him resort,
That any Poaching Ways doth use,
Or th' Honour of our Art abuse,
Or with devouring Nets doth spoil our Sport.

XIV.

May I (far from desire of being Great)
Enjoy a little Quiet Seat,
That overlooks a Chrystal Stream:
With Mind as Calm, as is her Brow,
Pure as the Fountain, whence her Waters flow;
Those Pleasures tast a Cynick could not blame.

110

And may (Ye watry Sisters all,
With Fruitfulness and Plenty crown'd)
May all your Dewy Blessings on Me fall!
Ye, that from craggy Rocks do take Your Source,
Or from the Flowry Hills do grow:
All, that in hollow Vaults resound,
Or do from Fruitfull Valleys flow:
All, that thrô Rocks Your way do force,
And foaming Waves in pieces dash;
All, that in Flowry Meadows stray,
And with Your Amorous Banks do play;
All, whose proud Waves the Walls of Citties wash;
All, that thrô Deserts take Your Course.
All, whose wide Bosoms Ships do plow,
Which Vice and Riches bring:
All, that to humble Cotes do bow,
And hear the Jolly Shepherds, when they sing:
The Haughty, Rapid, and Imperious Dames;
The Still, the Quiet, and Soft-gliding Streams:
May all assist the Angler's harmless Sport,
And with Full Hands unto Our Line Resort;
All, that with Silver Feet
In Melting Numbers and Harmonious Strains,
Immortal Spencer once did cause to meet
On th' Marriage-Day of Medway and of Thames!

111

On the Honourable the Countess Dowager OF GAINSBOROW, &c.

Embodied Vertue, Light of Humane Race,
Your Age's Glory and Your Sexe's Grace,
Whose Fair Example Vice it self might move
To be a Proselyte to Vertuous Love.
And ah! what Sinner could the Force oppose;
When Vertue from so strict a Beauty flows,
Beauty, that double Charms on Worth bestows.
Lately the World of Your Rare Wedlock rang,
And Angels of the Nuptial Concord sang,
When a Male Vertue equally was plac'd
With Yours, embracing and alike Embrac'd;
Two Souls in one Dissolving Rapture couch'd,
With the same Magnet Two blest Souls were touch'd;
So Just the Flame, so Equal the Desire;
As if One Soul two Bodies did inspire
Not with a Raging, but a Lambent, Fire.
This Mutual Friendship all admiring saw,
And Glorious Copies thence began to draw;
When ah! the Generous Heroe sank away,
Remorceless Death seiz'd the Illustrious Prey,
And left Your Single Light to gild our Day.
Thus when the shining Monarch of the Skies,
Below the Western Mountains faints and Dies;
Singly the silver Moon his Place supplies.

112

Ten thousand Luminaries round Her wait,
And silently adore Her Princely State:
Above them all the Beauteous Goddess goes,
And Gracious Beams on her Attendants throws:
The Gladsome World approve Her Empire well,—
And now scarce miss the Sun, That but so lately fell.

THE SUBMARINE VOYAGE.

A Pindarick Poem IN FOUR PARTS.

Πωλειται τις δευρο [Νεων] αλιος Νημερτης
Αθανατος, Προτευς, ------ Ος τε θαλασσης
Πασης Βενθεα οιδε, Ποσειδαωνος Ψποδμως.
Homer. Odyss. D. V. 384. &c.

To the Right Honourable JOHN Lord ROOS Eldest-Son To the Earl of RUTLAND, &c.

I. PART I.

STANZA I.

Upon a Promontory's Point,
That stretch'd out far into the Sea;
That of perpetual War had bore the dint,
Of foming Waves, and angry Surges sway:
A Desolate and lonely Place,
Where Seales securely play'd,
And feathered Fowl their winged off-spring laid;
But unfrequented by all Human Race,
I stood: By wild Meanders thither led,
My wearied Feet had wandred with my Head,
Lost in the Maze of thought:
Steep headlong Cliffs my eager footsteps stayd,
And I a Scene of Seas survey'd,
Which mixed Fear and Pleasure brought:
Whose beauteous Bosom smooth and fair,
Did all the charms and flattery wear,
With which she us'd to cheat the credulous Mariner;
When Smiling she invited to betray.
The Wanton waves did with the Sun-beams play:
(If any Waves did there appear)

The liquid Plains were folded up to rest.
The wars of Nature seem'd to sleep:
Peace stretch'd her Downy feathers o're the Deep,
And the calm-brooding Halcyon built her Nest.

II.

A Sail far off dress'd in the height of pride
Top and Top Gallant did in triumph ride:
The subject Waves did groan beneath the weight,
Which soon should by the Change of Fate,
(Such a Vicissitude of things is laid)
Exalt themselves above her Lofty head.
The careless Crue within in Mirth and Joy
Their few short Moments did employ,
Nor e're dream'd of their hast'ning Destiny.
For lo! a suddain Storm did rend the Air:
The sullen Heaven, curling in frowns its brow,
Did dire presaging Omens show;
Ill-boding Helena alone was there.
The starting Sun deny'd his Light,
Not willing to behold the sight;
Nothing so merciless as Night!
Mountainous Waves came crowding from afar,
That threatned even to Heaven a War.
The bonds of Nature seemed broak,
And her foundations with the Tempest shook:
As thô the loose disjoynted World
Was to be once more in a Chaos hurl'd.
The labouring Bark in vain doth strive
In Cataracts of Seas to live:
Her Mizen's gone, the Sail-yard cracks,
Her Rudder's lost, the Mainmast breaks:
On the deaf Gods in vain they call,
The Gods to their own Empire look,
Are more with Fear than Pitty strook,

And the Tenth wave doth sink them all.
Into the vast Abyss they fall — —
They and their Great Designs:
The hopes of Merchandise and Gain,
The Dear-bought price of Dangerous pain,
Their Golden dreams of undiscover'd Mines.

III.

Bless me! cry'd I, what dubious Fate
On mortall Men doth wait.
Blindly in deadly Paths we walk,
The Messengers of Death about us stalk;
Unseen their Ambushments are laid,
Arrest us, when there seems least cause of Dread.
In other things alike; with anxious Pain
We strive Discoveries to gain,
Which mock our wearied Expectation.
Skin-deep we only pierce, and what's behind
Is unknown Regions, we can never find:
The floting Islands show themselves and then they'r gone.

IV.

How despicable is our State below;
What fetters choak the soaring Mind:
Little of Truth in all the Mass we find,
That may Rewards on Painfull years bestow.
Dark Mists and Errours us surround,
We walk upon Enchanted ground,
Spectres and Phantôms fill the Round.
Mormoes dress'd up in Antick shapes appear,
And what we grasp but fills our Arms with Air.
With wandring Eyes we Heaven behold,
And see the starry Orbs from far,
Percieve that they are rowl'd,
But yet the hidden Wheels a Secret are.

From what Materials they are bred;
Their Distance and their Magnitude;
And if they be inhabited, —
Are secrets that our Minds elude.

V.

So we the surface of the Earth behold:
Where Joy and Plenty hath her Bosom crown'd,
Where burning Sands do curse the Barren ground:
Where with Prolifick heat she smiles,
And where she's fetter'd up with cold:
Where Craggy rocks lift their aspiring head;
Where she sinks down into a fruitfull Mead,
And with soft joy the Mind beguiles:
Where Beauteous Nymphs with silver feet do tread:
We see her Civil and her Antick dress,
Where she's a Paradise, and where a Wilderness.

VI.

But this our Knowledge and our Sight confines,
What is below's a Secret made:
Where Precious stones in hidden beds are laid;
Where Quarries rise or Rivers wind,
That under Mighty rocks their passage find;
Or where's the Seat of undiscover'd Mines.
Where Princely Cities once did show their head,
Now in their Ruines buried.
Where Sacred Monuments of Kings were plac'd,
The false Repositories of the dead,
By Eating Time defac'd.
What is betwixt us and the Center set,
What are the Rocks, on which the Earth is rais'd:
How they endure the Subterraneous heat,
And keep in bounds the Central fire,
By which at last the Fabrick must expire.

These all are Mysteries, which we can't undoe;
For when we would below the surface know,
Our native Soil an unknown Land doth grow.

VII.

But who of Thee, false Element, can speak;
Thou treacherous Sea! that smil'st to wrack?
That dost new Faces every day put on,
As Variable, as thy Guide, the Moon.
What boundless Mind can fathom Thee,
That by thy Changing shun'st Discovery?
And why, Just Heaven, dost thou long Life bestow
O'th' senceless Hart and stupid Crow;
O'th' Serpent, that her Skin can cast,
And th' Eagle, that doth many Ages last:
To whom it nothing doth Import;
That can't to Noble Speculations rise,
Nor Nature's secrets view with sharp sagacious Eyes?
Why should swift Change snatch man's short Thread away,
That only can due Homage pay,
The great Attendant on thy Court:
And why should Art be long, and Life be short?
Why should Amphibious Creatures see
What doth to Man a Secret lye;
Into the Depth of the Abyss go down,
And in two Empires live, while Man's confin'd to one?

VIII.

May some kind Genius gratify
My daring Curiosity,
That would the Seas surprising Bottom see!
The Wonders, Nature secret keeps
In her vast Storehouse of the Deeps;
The various Plants, that Deck the watry Plain;
The Trees and Shrubs, that it adorn,
And precious Products, that on them are born;

The massy Heaps of Pearl and Golden Oar,
The working Sea hath driven up in store;
With all the scatter'd Riches of the Main:
The numerous subjects of the Realm of Waves,
The Fountains of the Deep and Subterranean Caves!

IX.

— — Scarce had I spoke,
When Neptune chanc'd my wish to hear,
That's often Deaf to shipwrack'd Wretches Prayer;
And lik'd my bold Ambition well.—
A sudden Numbness all my Members stroke:
The cheerfull Light, that welcome Comfort gives,
And th' wearied Mind with Joy relieves,
With an unpleasing force my Eyes did strike,
And the Sun's heat I did dislike.
Weary o'th' too-thin piercing Air,
Another Element my thoughts Employs:
The watry Plains I view'd with pleased Eyes.
Fearless the noise of Storms I hear,
The foaming Surges bring no cause of fear;
And Hurricanes become familiar.
I long'd to visit Neptune's Court,
And see the Tritons and the Sea-Nymphs sport.
Mean while within a Change I found;
Nature was working some new feat,
And summon'd all her Powers to meet,
Armour of scales enclos'd me round:
My Hands and Legs did nimble Fins display,
That could through yielding Water cut their way.
And from the Cliff, whose Downfall stemm'd the Eye,
And made even starting Nature fly,
Fearless I cast my self into the Sea.—

A Dolphin now I sport and play i'th' Main,
Do unto Man my Ancient Love retain:
And Reason still and Curiosity remain.

X.

But oh! what Language doth suffice to tell
The Rapine and Oppression,
The Armed Force and Violence,
That in those liquid Regions dwell?
Justice and Equity were flown,
And Right and Property not known:
No Laws to be the Poor's defence,
No Tenderness to Innocence:
The Less became the Greaters Prey,
Only because they could not fight:
And while these others swallow, They,
And what they had devour'd, became anothers Right.
No one by Might or Subtlety's secur'd;
The Greater still commands the Lesser's fate;
Now this devours, and now he is devour'd:
All on unruly Appetite doth wait.
So cursed is an Anarchy
So insupportable Democrasie.
Insatiate Element! how well with Thee
Do thy Inhabitants agree!
Pitty from both of you is banished,
Justice from both of you is fled:
And when you do devour,
You both are hungry still and gape for more.

XI.

There was a Rock that overlook'd the flood,
That the Seas Terminating Pillar stood;

By battering Waves in numerous Ages rent,
Or Earthquake's fury, from the Continent:
Whose Craggy Cliffs no other Race did bear,
But Birds, the wild Inhabitants o'th' Air,
That to the subject Sea for food repair:
Under whose side—whether by Nature's skill
By giddy Chance, or some Diviner will,
Or teeth of Time, or restless Waves, that tear
The hardest Rocks, and steeliest Mountains wear;
And (did not heavenly Powers their fury stay)
Even Nature's fixed Barrs would eat away,
A Cave was form'd—a Refuge for th' oppress'd,
Where injur'd Innocence secure might rest.
'Tis said, when Giants with the Gods did fight,
This shelter'd frighted Neptune in his flight:
Since which no armed Force may it invade,
But 'tis for Wretches an Asylum made.

XII.

Hither I fled, affrighted at the Sight
Of bleeding Justice and of injur'd Right,
Oppress'd by all-commanding unrelenting Might.
Hither the Love-sick Tritons oft did come
And to the Pittiless Rocks lament their doom:
With Mournfull strains their Sea-Nymphs pride rehearse
To the regardless Rocks in polish'd verse;
Whose tunefull Accents the rude Waves disperse.
Here wanton Meremaids often would resort,
And spend the Halcyon days in various sport:
Invent new Arts to make them look more Fair,
Comb and adorn their Green dis-shevell'd Hair.
And here be-nighted Neptune sometimes keeps his Court.

XIII.

Hence from my Safe Retreat,
With Eyes, that trembled yet for Dread,
I saw the Pearls ly in their Mother-Bed;
From Heavenly Dew and Drops of Night,
And from transparent Moisture bred:
Enlivened by Sol's Genial Heat:
How Drop by Drop the Films are made,
Th' Attracted Moisture o'r them spread,
Till they by New Accessions grown,
Adorn'd with Dazling Sparkling Light,
Are fit to' Inrich an Haughty Monarch's Crown.
The useless, undisturbed Store,
No Savage Hand had tore:
No daring Negro from the Bottom bore.
But th' o'rstock'd Soil, press'd with the too Rich Load,
Might send new Colonies abroad,
And Furnish all the Neighbouring Sea.
What boundless Riches in small space do ly;
When each one might a Province buy,
And Lavish Cleopatra feast and Anthony?

XIV.

Here Marchasites and unripe Mettals ly,
From the next Promontory rent,
By th' never sparing Sea:
Useless as yet,
The Precious Compounds want
The Sun's engendring Heat;
Which by kind Nature's Aid,
And Hatching Time, will once Mature be made,
And ly for Future Days a Bless'd Discovery.
The Artfull Salts, the Chymists use,
That Wonders can produce:

The Minerals, that have the Art
New Shapes to Mettals to impart,
And Monstrous Changes cause
In spight of Nature's fixed Laws:
Th' Ingredients, that Compose
(If such are unto Nature known)
The Philosophick Stone,
Which Thirsty Chymists (that so Dote on gain,
They Broyl in the Devouring Fire in vain;
While all their Hopes in Empty Smoke do fly)
At any Value would obtain,
Would at an Eastern Kingdom's Purchase buy.—

XV.

There lies a Broken Anker, on whose Trust
The Lives of all the Nautick Crew were Weigh'd;
That scarcely bore the first impetuous Gust,
But Them to Rocks and Gaping Sands betray'd,
Or to the dreaded Strand:
There Heaps of Bodies under Hills of Sand,
(The Mummies of the Sea)
That at the Resurrection-Day
Need take no Pains to make their Members hit,
Their Scatter'd Parts again to Knit;
But once inform'd with Heat and Active Fire,
Their Bodies will be found Entire,
And in one Moment be for Rising fit.
Here Guns and Swords and Instruments of War,
That Death do give near-hand, or from afar,
With those, they slew, One Fortune ran:
Peaceably now they ly and would do so,
They of themselves no Mischief do,
Nor would, without the Cruel Hand of Man.

XVI.

There Two, that strugling Sank into the Deep,
With Deadly Hate grasping Each Other fast,

Ev'en Dead their Hostile Postures keep;
The Enmity yet seems to last:
The senseless Bones Each Other hold,
Not Death th' unkind Embraces could unfold:
But when the Raging Tempests blow,
And Tydes move all the Deep below;
The Clashing Bones yet seem to Jar,
And keep up a Perpetual War.—
Another lies hard by,
That o'rboard fell with a far-stretch'd-out Blow,
Aim'd at his Eager Foe,
And i'th' same Posture fell, i'th' same doth ly.
His Threatning Arm his Deadly Sword doth wield,
Menacing Death i'th' watry Field;
And to Express His Ranker'd Hate within,
Dead He retains a Ghastly Grin.

XVII.

There Two in soft Embraces sleep;
Death can't unclasp their folded Arms:
Love is a God above His reach,
Above His Injuries and Harms,
And even can Destiny Obedience teach:
They yet Love's Pleasures seem to reap,
Spight of Death's Adamantine Chain:
In spight of the great Change of Fate,
And all the Movings o'th' the unsetled Main.
A surly Billow bore Her into th' Sea,—
Th' inflamed Lover could not stay behind,
But bid Defiance to the Wind,
And to th' Insulting Ocean's sway:
He leap'd into the Floud and caught
The Fatal Treasure in His Arms;
Sunk with the Precious Weight,
Nor could refuse to die with that Dear Load of Charms.

'Twas not a Death but Extasie!—
A tender Passion made Him grasp Her fast,
And He in Hopes of Safety was by Her embrac't.
Venus Her Self did the kind Lovers see,
(Venus her self sprang from the Sea;)
And by Consent of all the Powers above,
Fix't it down a firm Decree;
That from all Change and Injury free,
They should remain the Monuments of Love.
Their Bodies here below do Join,
Their Circling Limbs in Love-knots twine:
And i'th' Elyzian Shades (if we
May credit what's in other Regions done)
Their once-two Souls are now but One.—

XVIII.

There an Indulgent Mother lies,
Embracing yet Her tender Child:
With anxious thoughts She her fair Bosom fill'd,
For Her dear Infants Safety not Her own.
Minding more its Piercing Crys,
That did to Her the Storms and Tempests drown;
Than the Ship's confused Noise.
When Prudence bad Her Safety seek,
And every Soul did at the Danger schreek;
She was singing Lullabies.
Her Head seems to'ward Her Child inclin'd,
Her Arms in tender Wreaths about it twin'd:
Upon its Cheeks Her Lips do rest,
And th' Infant yet doth seem to suck Her breast.

XIX.

To Friendship's Laws a Sacrifice,
In State a Gallant Hero lies,
And in His Death Himself doth seem to Pride.
When His Friend's Lift-up Hands did help implore,

When Gods were deaf unto a Wretches Prayer,
And Tempests roar'd so loud, they could not hear:
The side, which Heaven forsook,
With Generous Pride He took:
He Jump'd into the Foaming Tide,
And Him even from the Jaws of Ruine tore.
But Fate, that envy'd Him his Praise,
Put a Period to His Days;
Lest He should stop the Destiny's power.
Tyr'd with the saving of His Friend;
(So hard 'tis Strugling with our Fate)
The angry Sea th' Occasion caught;
Commanded Tempests to attend,
And got a Worthless Victory
O'r One, that was half-dead before,
And yet o'r One, that cannot dy,
But in the Bosom of his Friend Survives;
And in the Book of Fame for ever Lives;
One step alone on this side Immortality.

XX.

Here a Ship's Hulk, that many Storms had bore,
Visited many a Distant Shore,
Enrich'd with Eastern and with Western Store
Now sunk grows Richer, than it was before.
Oysters, that Pearls breed in their Fruitfull Womb,
Do in her empty Cabbins ly:
Mountains of Golden Sand do for Her Ballast come,
And Amber-grease doth all the Hold employ.
Nothing to' enrich a Kingdom doth remain,
But once to make Her Tight and Fit to Sail again

XXI.

There One, just sinking in a Storm, yet staid
To take with Him his God,
O'rwhelmed with the Precious Load,

A Quick-untimely Passage to the Bottom made.
In's Arms the Fatal Chest He yet doth hold,
Embraces, what his Ruine was, his Gold.
And what far more than Life was priz'd above,
Retains below unalterable Love.
Here Shatter'd Limbs and Scatter'd Treasures ly,
And never nearer come:
The Greedy Hand, that all did clasp,
Insatiably for more did roam,
Now senseless don't at Gold and Jewels grasp,
Which in his reach do lie,
Death nums the Covetous Hand and blinds the Greedy Eye.

XXII.

See there an once-Insatiate Head,
Ambitious, Covetous and Vain,
Whom never Bounds or Limits could contain!
Pearls stick his hollow Eye-holes full,
And Gold crams up his empty Skull.
And what alive He ne'r could gain
By Fraud, by Prayers, or by Command,
He Purchases when Dead:
Even Rings (by th' working of the Sea)
Which the last Wrack became the Ocean's Prey,
Are Shuffled Artfully upon his hands:
That if his Covetous Soul could see
The State, in which He Dead doth ly,
She'd choose 't before a Life of Immortality.

XXIII.

There One, new-dead, becomes the Fishes prey,
And justling Crowds his Members gnaw;
His mangled Limbs around do draw.
Haddocks and Codds make Him their meat;
Lobsters and Crabs his Entrails eat,
And in his hollow Trunk their Eggs do lay.

And these by the next Fisher took,
By pleasing Bait and deadly Hook,
Become to Men luxurious food.
Men do Mankind in Fishes eat, and they
On Men revenge their near Relations blood.
A Mixture in our Nature is,
And the next step's a Metempsychosis.

XXIV.

There One, by Chance, or by kind Fate,
Entombed lay in so much state,
As might the Envy of the World create.
He was stretch'd out upon a Pearly Bed,
On sparkling Heaps of Gold his Head,
Branches of Corall round his Temples twind,
And like an artfull Shrowd his Limbs enshrind:
The Fyllegrin Case show'd all within,
And Studs of Pearls did at due distance shine.
No Mortal sure was ever laid
In so Magnificent, so rich a Room:
'Twas worth the Dying to have such a Tomb.—
A thousand Wonders more I did survey;
Round unregarded Heaps of Treasure lay
To every bold Adventurer a Prey;
But Fear still kept me in.—
From far the precious Mountains shine,
And every daring Soul invite:
And oh! thought I, might I be Guide
To English Ships, that there might freight,
I could do more than PHIPPS and all his Divers did.

XXV.

By chance it was a solemn Day
Neptune made a Processive Round;
Rode in's Triumphal Chariot o'r the Sea
With Pride of all the Ocean's Beauties crownd.

'Twas in remembrance of the Time;
When he o'reburthen'd with the weight,
The Cares and Stings of his Imperial State,
When Hostile Robbers did his Realm infest,
Ravaged all the Watry Clime,
Broke up his Treasures in the West;
The richest Part of his Dominion,
That had to former Ages lain unknown;
When he in his own Court a Prisoner kept,
Durst not stir out for fear of Hostile Force:
But underneath th' Atlantick Island crept,
And in the hollow Ruines of her ancient Castles slept.

XXVI.

In such Distress the watry God
Privately left his dark Aboad;
And under favour of the Night,
To Great ELIZA's Court did take his flight.
ELIZA, Brittain's thrice-Renowned Queen;
ELIZA, the Illustrious Heroine;
That Martial Spirit Patroniz'd his Cause,
And did assert his Injur'd Right.
Her tall Victorious Ships the Seas did scour,
Restor'd them to their Ancient Laws,
And Him unto his Native Power.
Great Soul! it was thy lucky Fate
The Sea and Land to vindicate:
Men to their Freedom to restore,
And Deities unto their Violated Power.
“To oblige Kings and Realms is Great,
“What then to put a God into thy Debt?

XXVII.

The Gratefull God the Favour own'd,
And that the Gift he might repay,
I'th' Sovereignty o'th' Sea
Her and Her Successors enthron'd:

And Yearly kept a Feast upon the happy Day.
The Noble Train near my Asylum drew:
Neptune th' Auspicious Place would see,
That once from dreaded Danger set him free.
My Transformation and my Fear he knew.
And, lifting up his awfull Trident High,
He smote the Face o'th' liquid Deep;
And charged all the watry Fry;
That they should safely me from force and Rapine keep.

XXVIII.

Neptune sate in his Chariot High
Drawn by Six Hippopotami;
Streamers of English Arms i'th' wanton Air did fly.
A Seagreen Robe was o'r his Shoulders spread,
Enrich'd with all th' unvaluable Store,
That Seas do breed or Storms devour:
And on his Head
A Crown of Rays from Phœbus sent
Or as Acknowledgment, or Rent;
For Revelling each Night i'th' Deep,
For's hours of Pastime or of Sleep.
On tunefull Shells the Tritons playd,
The Winds and Storms to sleep were laid,
And a profound Peace o'r the Deep was spread.
Mermaids in melting streins their Voices try'd,
And Sea-Nymphs in soft Airs reply'd;
That even rude Rocks & surly Seas took in the Musick pride.

XXIX.

Mountainous Whales before the Court were sent,
That mov'd all Lets out of the way;
And, where the Road thrô Creeks or Inlets lay,
Shuffled up Isles into a Continent.
The Monstrous Norway-Whale was one
That cover'd many Acres of the Sea;

That oft had for an Island gone,
Oft did the credulous Mariners betray,
Who moar'd their Ankers on his side,
And did beneath his Shelter ride.
Seas they drink down, and vomit up again;
And when they please do make an Ebb or Tyde;
Now 'tis Dry Land and now the Main.
Th' Aërial Beings (in a Fright)
That never since the Inundation
Such Cataracts of Seas had known,
Father retir'd toward the Orbs of Light;
And fear'd the Loss of their Dominion.
The troubled Sea around them boyls,
The Continent startles, and the Isles
For Fear shrink in their trembling Head;
And Earthquakes, as they turn their Course, are made.

XXX.

Near these their Place did take
Sea-Elephants that on the Rocks do sleep,
That overlook the Deep;
Hang by the Teeth secure, nor wake,
Till treacherous Nets are set around,
Till they'r with Cords and Fetters bound,
Nor can one Struggle for their Freedom make.
The Sea-Mors, that's kill'd for his sovereign Horn,
And thought by some the onely Unicorn.
The Swordfish and the Thrasher, that engage
The Monster of the Sea;
And bloody Battels with the Whale do wage.
The Tortoyses, that Barren Islands court,
From far to Fruitless Sands resort,
And under them their Eggs do lay:
The Dolphin, that in Musick doth delight,
And all surpasses in a speedy Flight:

Porpoises, that make Storms their sport,
And only before Dangerous Tempests play:
The Crocodile, for Power and Cunning fam'd,
Nor for his Cruelty less Nam'd:
That Eats, and Weeps; that He may Eat again.
The Shark, an Enemy to Man,
That craftily about the Ships doth stay,
And never Spares his Prey:
Seales, that in hollow Caves delight,
And shun Man's Dangerous Sight,
On Barren Rocks and Isles are bred,
Where foot of Man did never tread.
The Remora, the Wonder of the Sea,
That Ships even under sail can stay:
Small in his Bulk, but hoisting round their Keels,
No Waves or Tydes the Captive force away:
Whom Neptune did forbid to touch his Chariot-wheels.

XXXI.

Nor less those Swimmers added to the State,
That Earthly Creatures personate:
The Lion, Bear, and Bull o'th' Sea;
The Horse and Hog, that do i'th' Ocean play:
The long-bill'd Fish, to Birds of kin,
And that, which flyes with Moistned Fin.
The Meremaid, that doth Virgin Looks acquire,
The Vayled Nunn and Cowled Fryer;
Besides a Thousand Kinds, that have no Name,
That never to our Sight, or Knowledge came:
All, that their Castles on their Backs do bear,
All, that Offensive Weapons wear;
And all the Innocent Fry, that still to Death are near:
All, that Luxurious Palates please,
The Lustfull Dainties of the Seas;
All, that Apicius Table fit,
Or Heliogabalus with Joy would meet;

In Decent Order and with Comely State
Did on the Ceremony wait,
Nor did the Usefull Herring fail,
Whose Numerous Shoals ('tis said) can choke the Whale.

XXXII.

Thrice Neptune and his Court
With Mystick Rites and Songs of Joy
(While Milk-white Omens all around did fly)
Encompassed the British Isle,
And every River bless'd and every Port:
The British Isle! the best Beloved Seat
Of all the Off-spring of the Seas;
Whom He with Circling Arms doth ever greet.
And bad bless'd Plenty, Victory, and Ease
Upon her Charming Bosom smile:
Bad every Stream and every Rill
Plenty and Fruitfulness instill;
From Thames, that washes Stately Palaces,
Medway that Proud Victorious Navies sees,
To those that visit Humble Cottages.
Till all the whole Worlds Scatter'd good,
All, that's Esteem'd by th' Generous and Great,
Do in Her Lovely Bosom make aboad,
And there fix down their Glorious Shining Seat.
Till England be the Worlds Epitome:
And envy'd Britannie
The Lesser World, but yet the Happier, be.

II. PART. II.

STANZA I.

There was an Isle, Fame sings,
To' Antiquity well known,
Whose Powerfull Kings
O'r Africk did extend their wide Dominion:
Th' Atlantick Island nam'd.—
West o'th' Herculean Straits the Happy Soil was spread,
With Arts and Arms Embellished,
With Peace and Justice Crown'd:
Till (many Ages long-since past)
Either that undermining Waves had tore
The unsecure Foundation;
Or Strugling Nature with the Burthen groan'd,
And Sunk beneath the Weight She bore;
Or Nature's God, for Crimes to Us unknown,
A Dreadfull Vengeance took,
And by an Earthquake's Power,
I'th' starting and affrighted Sea did sink Her down;
Earthquakes, that have the World's Foundation shook:
Have lowly Valleys into Mountains rais'd;
The Proudest Citties have debas'd,
And Towring Hills to Vales depress'd;
Old Isles overwhelm'd, and in their stead,
Made new Ones show their unknown head:

Heaven's unrelenting, all-devouring, Rod
The Dreadfull Messenger of Angry God.

II.

The Earth's Third Part sunk in one Moment down.—
The Guardian Angels were with Wonder strook;
Th' Infernal Shades th' Alarum took;
And th' other Parts o'th' World without an Earthquake shook.
Even Jove and Pluto, Jealous grown,
Envied their Brother's late enlarg'd Dominion.
And all that Western Spacious Coast,
Which We America do stile,
Which was for many Ages lost
In dark Oblivion,
Beyond that Dangerous Ocean spread,
E'r Great Columbus his Discovery made;
Prov'd but some small remains of that most Potent Isle.

III.

Hither Great Neptune's Course did lead
To th' Palace o'th' Atlantian Kings:
Which doth the wildest thoughts exceed,
Castalian Fury e'r did breed,
Which Bacchanals or Dithyrambiques sings:
Outdoes those Notions, fill the Poet's head,
When Pegasus expands his Wings:
More Rich, more Stately, and more Bright,
Than all, that heated Rage can write;
All, that Flattery can indite:
All, that Inventive Greece did once bestow,
On Gods above, or on their Kings below:
The Fabrick did more Excellencies shew,
Than e'r from Poet's Fancy were instill'd;
“Thô they can Richest, Quickest, and the Cheapest build.

IV.

Here in a Spacious Hall,
A Faithfull Register was kept of all

The memorable Conquests of the Sea:
E'r since the Universal Floud, when She
Her Empire over all had hurl'd,
And Neptune rul'd the World.
What her old Limits were before;
Where She unchang'd doth keep
The Bounds of Lands and of the Deep.
Where th' Ocean doth usurp upon the shore;
And where the Land possesses, what She had.
Where Hills were by the Deluge made,
Where Continents broke, and Isles were spread
And where, what once was Sea, now Land appears:
Charts of the Land and Sea, as once it stood,
Before the Changes of the Sweeping Floud;
And as it now is Seen to later Years.

V.

The Voyage of the Heaven-contrived Ark,
Which Providence did safely Steer;
While She, th' whole Species did of Mankind bear:
The first frail Bark,
In which Men durst attempt to trust the Sea!
The Minutes kept, how every Day
Her Sacred Course thrô th' Ocean lay:
When She to East or West did Steer,
When She to North or South did bear:
When She o'r Europe sail'd, or Asia;
And how Mount Ararat at last Her Course did stay.

VI.

The certain time, when by Impetuous Rage,
The Great Atlantian State sank down;
And did the Sea-Gods Temples Crown;
Six Centuries before great Plato's Age:

When Sicily from Calabria was rent,
And when beloved Brittain from the Continent.
When Goodwin Sands
Was once a Powerfull Prince's Lands.
When Ægypt's Fruitfull Soil
Was ravish'd from the Sea by Mud and Filth of Nile.
When th' Ocean shall new Conquests make,
When, what did once belong to Her, retake.
When Holland must Her Debts repay,
And count for all Her Provinces stole from the Sea.
He that would Curious be,
And know of future Times the Destiny,
He need but Visit that Great Court and see.

VII.

There in another Column stood,
The Great Commanders of the Floud:
Those that have uncontrouled swept the Seas,
And Triumph'd o'r the Watry Provinces.
When the Sea Infant-Burthens bore,
And Men sail'd Safe in sight of shore,
Nor trusted to the Wind but to the Oar.
When Daring Men by Custom Bolder made,
But by Experience more,
With heavy Fleets the Ocean did invade.
When bold Phœnicia could not stay at home,
But did for Gain to distant Regions roam:
Did Rich Atlantis rape,
Nor could our CASSITERIDES Escape.
When Purple Tyre sate Mistress of the Sea:
When Carthage rais'd her Emulous Head,
And o'r Imperial Rome prevail'd;
When her Bold Fleets the Ocean's Bosom spread,
And Hanno first of all round Africk sail'd:

When Greece from them the Secret got,
And Alexander, that both Empires sought,
Sail'd by Nearchus unto India.
When Rome to her own Coast confin'd
Dar'd not to trust the faithless Wind:
Till from some Ships wreck'd on the Shore
She learnt the Dangerous trade;
And grew so' expert her Neighbours to invade:
And made th' unquiet World the fatal Skill deplore.

VIII.

When with the Roman Empire Arts too dy'd;
And Barbarous Rage took in the Downfall pride.
When Fear and dire Necessity
Compell'd the frighted Troops, that fled,
Inhospitable Cliffs to choose,
Secure from Reach of Barbarous Foes:
Whence Venice rais'd her glorious Head;
Venice, the Jewel of the Sea;
With silver Feet that on the Waves doth tread,
But her high Temples among Stars doth lay.
When the great Secret of the Loadstone found
For bold Discoveries gave a ground:
That doth thrô pitchy Night and Darkness guide,
Miraculously finds the unseen Way,
When there's no Marks nor Tracts left in the liquid Sea,
Even when the Polestar's hid.

IX.

When English Ships with gallant Pride
Did o'r the subject Sea in Triumph ride.
And all the Men; that Former times did grace,
The Heroes of Immortal Race,
All, whose brave Souls with Valour were inflam'd,
All, that for Arts or Arms were nam'd,
For Victories on Land or Sea were fam'd;

Seem'd by a Metempsychosis
In Englishmen again to rise.
When all, that Ancient Greece dar'd doe,
Or Tyre or Carthage skill could know,
Or Rome's exalted Minds could show;
Or later Venice, that Espous'd the Sea,
Are all compriz'd in Our one Brittany.

X.

Around hung the surprizing Sights
Of all the Memorable Fights,
That ever dy'd with Gore the frighted Main:
Where Art with Nature for the Empire strove;
The Ships yet seem'd to move,
The Men to live,
Their Former Rage and Vigor to retain:
Their swollen Limbs did bold Defiance breathe
And gave a Life to Death:
Their blood shot Eyes yet darted Fire,
And their stretch'd Veins did show their inward Ire.
The Draughts of Wars in Ages long-since gone
Lapp'd up in dark Oblivion;
To which no tracts nor Footsteps lead
But even the very Fame is dead:
In lively Portraytures are shown,
In Postures and in Garbs are drawn,
To Us and all the World unknown.
There Maps of Realms whereof we ne'er did hear,
That lie Rewards for future Industry;
Whose very Names yet never reach'd our Ear,
But to succeeding Times shall be familiar.
That might we thence Great Neptune's Records bear,
And all the Secrets of his Court declare,
How welcome to the Inquisitive World would such an History be!

XI.

The Memorable Time was set
When Xerxes did the Ocean beat,
And fetter'd up the Hellespont:
Which unrevenged long bore not th' Affront.
When He, his Numerous Army by an Handfull torn,
His Bridge of Boats by Tempests overborn,
In a poor Schiff was forc'd to pass that Sea,
Which he once bragg'd, He'd taught to' obey
The former Feats of ancient Greece,
Ever since Jason won the Golden Fleece.
What they have told in Vanity and Pride,
What they've forgot and what they've magnify'd;
Where they've told Truth, and where they've ly'd.

XII.

The Struggle, Carthage made, to try,
When just expiring, for her Liberty:
When yielding to inevitable Fate
She sunk unwillingly beneath the weight:
When all her Beauteous Ladies deign'd to spare,
To make new Cordage for her Ships, their Hair.
Nor was forgot
The bloody Battle, that was fought,
When Carthage lofty Head was low,
With Hannibal Rome's Mortal Foe,
That Barrel'd Vipers into Roman Ships did throw.

XIII.

There was describ'd at large
The great Deciding Fight,
That to the Empire of the World did give the Victor Right.
There Cleopatra's Gilded Barge
With curious Workmanship did shine,
And promis'd something Great within.

With base ignoble Fear she fled;
The gallant Warriour turn'd his Head,
His Head and Heart with Her was led.
With her loose Charms betray'd
He could not stay behind,
Weak and Effeminate as Woman-kind;
He could not want her Look,
His mighty Heart in pieces broke:
Honour and Fame forgot,
The Empire of the World esteem'd at nought,
He turn'd his Sails and said;
“In Empire I have had my share,
“Gallant my Acts have been in War,
“And I in Love as nobly dare.
“I can't thy Presence, Cleopatra, lose,
“The World for Thee I'l give:
“And rather now to be thy Captive choose
“Than the World's Emperour live.
So He with Love, not Fear o'recome,
“Follow'd his Heart and left to Cæsar Rome.

XIV.

There Pompey's Gallant Sons were shown
Crowned with Honour and Renown.
The Noblest Spirits, Rome e'r bore,
Who influenc'd with Generous Rage
Both for a violated Country's Good,
And for a Murder'd Father's Blood,
Did against Cæsar and the World engage;
And first did learn the Ocean to command the Shore.
Nor was thrô all the Ages down
A memorable Action pass'd,
When Rome retain'd her old Renown,
Or when with Barbarous Rage her Glory was defac'd;
Till Fam'd Lepanto's happy Fight,
That did the Sea of Turkish Force acquit.

XV.

There was the

Battle of Scluce near Flanders. A. D. 1340.

Famous Sea-Fight shown,
Which unto Scluce did give so vast Renown,
Scluce, in the Books of Fame well-known!
Nor Greece from Salamis did bear
A Richer Prize, than Albion purchas'd there:
When our Third EDWARD and his Godlike Son,
The Admir'd BLACK-PRINCE, did raise the English Name,
And proud Valois his Mighty Fleet o'recame,
Asserting o're the Seas their high Dominion.
The Feathered Messengers of Fate
Flew thick, as storms of Hail, from English Bows:
Nor could the French endure their stinging Weight,
But rather desparately Chose
Their gaping Wounds in the salt Floods to close.
Then thrice-ten thousand French their Lives resign'd,
Staining the Brittish Seas with hostile Gore;
Their fainting Lillies now grew sick and pin'd;
While Neptune trembled at our Angry Lyon's Roar.

XVI.

But above all with greatest Care,
(For lesser Fights are lost,
As smaller Sounds are by the Great ingrost)
The Wonder and the Scorn o'th' Sea,
That even frighted the submissive Eye,
The Great Armada, swell'd with Spanish Pride,
That came to take Possession, not to War,
Was in most costly Colours drawn,
Did in Triumphant Manner ride,
Already sure of Victory;
Had England in vain Hopes already swallow'd down.
Till English Valour thrô the empty shadows broke
The Pompous Fleet in pieces shook;
Th' unweildy Carracks got new wings to fly.

The Burthens of the Sea
Did Burthens now unto themselves become;
And wish'd, they could shrink into lesser Room.
Their Fetters and their Chains were took,
And even their Instruments of Cruelty
Did to their Owners dreadfull look;
And told what was their Doom:
Thrô all the Northern World they fled;
Each Promontory did their Treasure share;
Each barren Soil enriched by the War:
Beyond the Farthest Thule trembling and agast,
They by their Valiant Foes were chac't:
And Famine, Cold and Ignominy past,
The poor Remains reel'd shatter'd and despised Home at last.

XVII.

Nor did the skilfull Art omit
The Acts in various Ages done,
That eve'n did Fame affright;
Which no bold Language could recite,
Nor could by Pencil's skill be drawn.
All Species of Ships were there,
Those, that first cut the Waves with Fear;
And near the Shore did creep:
Those, that with Oars did lash the Deep;
Those, whose wide Sails the Waves did sweep:
From the tall Flagg-ship, Pride of all the Main,
To the Canoo o'th' Sun-burnt Indian.

XVIII.

And, as a sign of Confidence, was show'd
The Secret Book,
In which no one but Favourites may look,
Nor even are those allow'd;
Till Sanctions bid them Secrets keep
Nor e'r reveal the Mysteries o'th' Deep.

There were large Charts o'th' Southern unknown Land,
How the Coast trends to East and West.
In what Degrees of Longitude 'tis laid,
How far to th' Southern Pole 'tis spread.
The Capes and Promontories were express'd,
Where a Safe Port, and where a Dangerous Strand;
Where Ships secure may ride, and where lies hid a Sand.
The Depth of Rivers and of Shores were took,
Not even a Creek, but was mark'd down:
The Traffick, Strength, and Riches of each Town.
That on the Neighbouring Sea doth look.
Their Customs both in Peace and War,
What Merchandize the Land doth bear:
What they do want, and what they spare.
The Trade-winds, that do thither blow,
The Roads, that thither lead.
And Isles, that are i'th' Passage spread:
That He, who the least Skill doth know,
May thither without help o'th' Compass go.

XIX.

There, what hath puzled Curious Brains,
But ne'r Rewarded for the Cost or Pains,
Are Maps, that do display
The Northern Passage to Cathay.
Where the Strait opens, and where ly
The Sea-marks for Discovery;
How to 'scape broaken Lands, that there arise,
And how to' avoid the Shoales of Ice:
VVhere the Coast Southward bends,
And where the Scythic Promontory ends.
Th' extent of BACON'S Polar Land,
Charts of the Dolefull Strand;
The Icy Mountains, that affright:
How the Inhabitants the rigid cold do bear,

And misty Damps of the condensed Air,
How they endure an half-year Night.
Besides the Virgin Soils, that never yet
Did Conquest or Discovery admit;
That in his secret Catalogue are writ.

XX.

Nor were the Secrets of his Empire hid,
Where the fam'd Rivers (Paradice's Pride)
Whose Names and Scituation
With endless Contests have Mens Brains employ'd,
Yet in their wanted Channels run;
And like Seth's Pillars have surviv'd the Flood.
Where Isles, that have from the Creation stood,
By restless Waves are undermin'd,
And with next Earthquake will a Ruine find.
Where Infant growing Isles do swell,
And will in future Times their Heads reveal.
Where old Phœnician Wracks have slept,
Treasures from former Ages kept:
Stores, that would be
Priz'd for their Worth and more for their Antiquity
Who shall in future Ages rule the Sea,
And Acts of Ancient Times outdoe.
The Fortune and the Fate of Brittanie,
When the Espoused Sea shall Venice leave,
And Her of all Her pristin Fame bereave;
A certain Symptom of approaching Woe.
And what hath unto Ages lain unknown,
There is an Art the Longitude to find:
And, what don't less Distract the Curious Mind,
The Reason of the Needle's Variation.

XXI.

There one might know
The Fate of every One, that unto Sea doth go:

What Prosperous Winds shall Him attend,
What Lucky Adventures Him befriend,
Or if unruly Storms his Shatter'd Bark shall rend.
Where controverted Ophir lyes,
Whence Solomon had his Rich Supplies.
Where th' floating Isle, the Proteus of the Sea,
Obeys Great Neptune's Law,
And doth a fixed Mansion get.
Where Polar Loadstone Isles are set,
(If any such there be)
That the touch'd Needle draw.
Where working Seas shall Harbors fill,
And Towns of Trade
Shall shrink to Villages from their Exalted State;
And in their stead
Some Despicable Place grow Great.

XXII.

This Palace once th' Atlantian Kings did own,
In its own Structure Beauteous 'twas and Great:
But all its former Glories are outdone,
By Juices which do ly to us unknown,
Such as do Gems and Precious Stones beget:
And by the Plastick Power which Nature secret keeps,
But in dark Mines reveals, and i'th' unfathom'd Deeps;
By these her Structures all are turn'd to Adamant,
And neither Darling Beauty nor unyielding Hardness want.
Unviolated Temples stand,
That don't beneath Time's burthen groan:
Neither by Tydes nor Storms bore down,
Nor Injured by rowling Sand.
Branches of winding Corall crawl
Upon the Sacred Wall,
Like clasping Ivy round embrac't:
Which never Sacrilegious Hand
Or Savage Force defac'd.

Th' Altars within their Privileges retain,
Do Sanctuaries yet remain:
Thither the helpless Fry
Pursu'd by Violence do fly,
And from th' Asylum all their Foes defy.
They to the Helpless yet do lend their Aid,
Nor may Arm'd Force the Sacred Seats invade.

XXIII.

Within and round are shown
The Tombs of the Atlantian Kings;
Which of themselves are Stately things,
But by accession of Sea-Treasure Nobler grown.
Each common Stone
A Jaspis or an Hyacinth doth grow:
Mother of Pearl the common roads doth strow,
And ev'n Plebean Tombs do Sapphires show.
And He, who last did in Atlantis Reign,
That to futurity he might remain,
Beyond the common doom,
Which swallows up the Worthless Crowd,
Neptune on Him his Greatest Gem bestow'd,
A Gem so Great, it serv'd Him for a Tomb.
There Queens in Chrystall Monuments were set,
That show'd the Beauty lay within:
Who from themselves much Fame did get;
But from what th' Ocean lent did seem Divine.
Some did in Tombs of Amber live,
And nothing to a Life did want, but Breath:
A Grave more Precious and more Fair,
Than all Arabia's Gums could give:
Than Ægypt for Her Monarchs did prepare,
Or Artemisia did to Her Dear Lord bequeath.

XXIV.

The Princely Gardens kept their Beauteous Store;
With Powdred Pearls the Walks were spread,
Nor is upon Earth's Bosom bred
A Beauteous Flower,
But by kind Nature's Artfull power
The same of Precious Jewels there was made,
Which no Time ever can devour.
Close Arbors and aspiring Groves,
That were intrusted oft with secret Loves,
By Petrifying Juice are turn'd to Stone:
And the same Order and Proportion
They yet unchanged own.
Designed Wracks the Treasuries do store
With rarities of every distant shore:
The Noted Ports yet Ships do show,
Whom Tempests overbore;
And order'd so
That they into the very Harbors fell:
And Bloody Sea-fights do the useless Armories swell.

XXV.

A Band of Triton's upon Neptune wait,
And Guard his Palace Gate,
And yet keep up the old Atlantian State.
The Castles and the Towns remain,
The Citties yet their Privileges retain:
Tritons do in the Nobles Houses stay,
And Sea-Nymphs in the Groves and Meadows play.
On Earth Vicissitude of Things
Rules o'r the Peasants Spade and Crowns of Kings.
Citties are not exempt from Fate,
But, as they had their Birth, shall have their Date.
Their Names and Scituation soon are lost;

And She, whose lofty Head stood high,
In the next Age in lowly Dust shall lie,
And even her very Ruines be forgot.
But here Atlantis doth a Conquest boast,
Which i'th' uncertain Sea
Hath from all Change Exemption got,
And's plac'd beyond the Reach of Destiny.

III. PART III.

STANZA I.

Hence Curiosity me led
To view the Neighbouring Sea:
Where 'tis with Green Sargossa spread,
And imitates a Flowry Mead;
Doth the unwearied Eye to rove invite,
And every where gives Prospects of Delight:
Under whose Shade the harmless Fry,
No Fear nor Danger nigh,
Their Innocent Revels keep,
And deck with sparkling Pearly scales the Deep.
Where Tortoyses from far resort,
Journy again unto their well-known Port;
Do with unwearied Feet repair
Unto the Place, where they were bred,
Or where before their Eggs they laid;
And without Guide, but Nature being their Friend,
Thrô devious ways are without Pole-star led:
And upon barren Desolate Isles,
They stupidly unto the Care
Of Hatching Sands their shelly Brood commend,
Or to the Sun's auspicious Smiles.

II.

Where Artfull Crabs, by Nature taught,
Their Food of Oysters and of Muscles make:

Whose Armory of Shells so well is wrought,
Their furious Gripes can't the Contexture break.
But when to take in pearly Dew they o'pe,
The watchfull Crabb doth the Occasion steal,
With little Stones the gaping Shells doth fill;
That those on whom rude Force could nought avail,
By Policy are caught.
Where the poor Fish, to all a Prey,
On whom kind Nature hath bestow'd
An Art to raise himself above the Flood,
Doth his useless Skill essay.
By Albicores and Dolphins he pursued
With moistned Fin knows how to fly,
But can't avoid his steady Destiny.
Sea-Fowl his Course prevent,
Seize on the helpless Prey:
And he, that durst not trust the Sea,
Dies in a Foreign Element.
A sad Dilemma, when to stay or fly,
Death equally is nigh:
Death that doth to all Seats repair,
That neither Land nor Sea doth spare,
Nor the swift Flights of those, that cut the Air.

III.

Nor did I miss the Plain,
Where the Seas Terrour, the Leviathan,
In his extended Pride doth reign.
Whose Subjects do at awfull Distance wait,
And dread him as their Fate.
But not his Monstrous Bulk and Mighty State,
Not his devouring Jaws
Can stop his Destiny;
Such often is the Doom of High and Great,
Such are Fate's rigid Laws,

By despicable Foes to die.
So scorned Vapours oft the Earth have shook:
So Worms destroy the aged Oak,
Neither by Tempest nor by Thunder strook:
So Elephants despised Mice do kill,
So the Ægyptian Rat the sleeping Crocodile.

IV.

Two Fish, but small in Bulk, yet great in Mind,
When none the mighty Monster dare assail,
With Skill and Force combin'd
Revenge their murder'd Kind;
One arm'd with Sword, the other with a Flail.
This from below th' unweildy Monster gores,
Nor can he to his Deeps descend:
The other furious Blows upon him showers,
From which no Armour can defend.
Which way soe'r he moves he finds his Doom;
The goring Sword, if he descends, he meets,
And furious Batteries; if he up doth come:
Death on each Weapon waits;
No way is left to fly,
But, while his trembling Subjects wait th' Event,
He meets his uncontrouled Destiny.
And what doth aggravate his Fall, he dies
Not by an Equal Combatant,
But those he did despise!

V.

Nor did I miss to' enquire
What symptoms in the Sea were seen,
Before a Storm doth rise,
While all is yet serene;
What Ebullitions are i'th' Ocean made,
While nothing doth our Eyes or Ears surprize.
What secret skill by Nature is convey'd

To Sea-fowls, that to Isles retire;
And Porpoyses, that they
Only before the Tempests play:
How they those Secrets know,
Which strange to Men do show.
When Storms the troubled Waters shall molest,
When Calms shall Lap the Sea in rest;
And how the Halcyon knows when to prepare her Nest.

VI.

Where in dark Caves
That do no Rays admit,
Beneath the Force of foaming Waves,
And Influence of Cheerfull Light,
The ragged Sea-Calves make a Safe Retreat.
Where they in solitary Holds do breed,
And gloomy Seats and Safety do prefer,
To all the Pompous Shows that Danger bear:
And where with Milky Breasts the Seales their Young Ones feed.

VII.

How rising Spouts, the Wonders of the Sea,
Or drawn by th' Sun's attractive heat,
Or rarified by Subterranean fire,
Do in Ætherial Regions play;
And mix with Seas above the Firmament.
How they new Qualities do get,
And against Nature's Laws aspire:
And from their Kindred Waters rent
Do revel in the Air;
That's now become a Watry Plain.
How the Vast Pillar doth the Burthen bear,
And gives new Nourishment for Clouds and Rain.
How frighted Mariners, when nigh,
VVith spread-out Sails the Danger shun;

The Dreadfull Neighbourhood do fly,
Which on what e'r it falls doth drown.

VIII.

Nor did the Dreadfull Gulph my Voyage stay,
That ope's a Passage to th' Pacifick Sea:
Whether by the Great Workman's hand 'twas made
For Commerce and Enriching Trade:
Or whether restless Waves the way had tore
On the Vast Chasm, was rent with Earthquake's power:
It lyes th' amazing way into another World.
Th' unfathomable Depths appall:
The Waves in Dreadfull Storms are ever curl'd,
In Hurricanes and Whirlwinds furl'd.
The unrelenting Cliffs do never save,
And the Vast Chasm doth represent a Grave.
The hanging Rocks, that threat a fall,
The foaming Waves, that rage below,
And Hills above all cloath'd with Snow,
That rob the Gulph of half the Day,
And hide the Sun's Auspicious Ray;
The furious Winds that from the Mountains break,
And headlong Gusts, that Ships in pieces shake;
Th' Abyss, that doth no Light admit,
But seems for Fiends a dark Retreat;
The Rocks, on which no Peace doth sit;
The Shores, that do no food or shelter show,
And Savages, that do no Pitty know:
Fiercer than Rocks, and Ruder than the Wind,
A Dreadfull Scene present unto the Trembling Mind.

IX.

Nor less the Northern Seas my Course invite,
Doubly fenc'd by Ice and Night.
Where Nature's fixed Bars are laid,
The Fetters nothing can invade,

But Heavenly heat from the Sun's presence shed,
Where the unfathomable Depths are spread:
Where Ghastly Horrour and Confusion dwell,
Gloomy, Dark, and Deep, as Hell:
Whose Stranger Waves ne'r bore the Plowing Keel,
Nor e'r the Lashes of the Oar did Feel;
Nor were Discover'd, but by Thee,
Generous and much-Lamented Willoughby!

X.

Where Barren Isles exalt their Head,
Uncomfortable, as the Seas; in which they'r spread:
Whose Hoary Heads, cloath'd with Eternal Snow,
No Friendship with the Sun do know;
But all in Icy Fetters bound remain:
Congeal'd in Numerous Centuries slid by,
The Streams a Chrystal hardness gain,
So Hard, they never will relent:
But when the World a Sacrifice shall dy,
And in her Funeral Flames expire,
They shall outbrave the Raving Element;
Nor yield to that, which Conquers all things, Fire.

XI.

Where the Bold Savage doth ill Fate defie;
The force of Storms and Mounting Seas outbraves,
And safely Dances on the Threatning Waves,
And truly may be said to rule the Sea.
Clos'd in his Boat secure He rows,
Made of the Skins of Fish, He took his Prey;
Which, by a secret Sympathy,
Do with the well-acquainted Waves agree,
And in a lasting Friendship close.
Lock'd in his Schiff they can't a Passage find,
Nor one Inquisitive Drop can search a way:
Thô Water doth thrô Rocks and Mountains wind,

And in each Particle of Matter ly.
Antiquity of Centaurs told,
That did half-Men, half-Horses grow;
The Fumes of wild Poetick Heads of Old.
A stranger Wonder He doth show
A Man (if yet a Man) above, a Monster all below.
In Seales-skins cloath'd He doth the Fish deceive,
Who Him one of their Shoal believe,
Untill his Fatal Dart
Credulity's Reward to them doth give:
He Personates a Fish with so much Art,
That not their piercing Eye,
Thô sight in them in its Perfection be,
And doth, what they in other Sences want, supply,
Can any difference spy.
He lives, He eats, He sleeps i'th' Sea,
Which seems to be his Element,
And gives that Food, the Barren Shores deny;
And doth his Bed, his Drink, his Sport present:
And it a Question yet remains,
What Classis of the Creatures He is in,
Whether He is to Men or Fish of Kin:
Whether He more to Earth or Sea doth owe,
To th' Solid or the Liquid Plaines,
And if what doth his Food bestow,
May not be thought his Mother too:
If that, which doth his Wants relieve,
Mayn't be suppos'd his Being first to give.

XII.

Necessity doth teach Him Art;
And thô the Soil's to Him unkind,
And doth all Needfull Instruments deny,
His Sport, what e'r He needeth, doth impart:
For by kind Nature's Aid He all in's Prey doth find.

Of Fishes Fins his Boat is made,
And with their Skins 'tis overspread,
Their Bones the room of Hooks supply,
And from their Teeth He forms his deadly Dart.
A Circling Pleasure that hath never End,
Doth on his Quiet Life attend.
Full Shoals of Fish to Him resort,
Who by their Death to others Death bequeath,
They with them bring the Instruments of Death,
And by their Own do Ruine unto Others give;
And He can ne'r want Tackle, if He hath but Sport.
Alive Great Fish do on the Lesser feed,
Do Ravin even on those they breed:
Here, when they'r dead, the Enmity doth live;
They senseless do become their Enemies Bane,
And after Death a Conquest over others gain.

XIII.

Nor did I miss, by Inclination led,
(For 'tis an Art my Soul doth please)
To visit all the Spacious Fruitfull Seas,
That are with Numerous Shoals of Fishes spread.
Where they upon the Artist wait,
With Greedy Hast swallow the Deadly Bait,
And Quarrel, who the first shall meet their Fate.
By Ill Example led they still rush on,
Regardless of their Friend's Destruction:
Whose Mangled Parts their Hungry Jaws do eat,
That now are dress'd up for their meat,
And made the Engines of Deceit.
Unhappy Case! where Fellows Traytors are,
And where Society becomes a Snare!
Where Death to th' Living no Advice doth give,
And where Dead Friends the Living do decieve!

From hence with winged speed I fled,
Did all around as Enemies dread:
And where no warning was from Ruine took,
Did on my self as on a Traytor look.

XIV.

I saw, where floating Woods of Timber, rent
From th' undermined Continent,
By Northern Tempests furious blow;
Or else o'recharg'd by weight of Ice and Snow,
As hanging on the Cliffs they grow,
They break, and into th' subject Sea do glide:
How they in unknown Paths their Journeys steer,
Till wakefull Providence's Care,
That Necessaries doth for all provide,
Their Course to barren Isles doth guide,
Which, by th' Inclemency of their raw Air,
Never a Tree or Shrub did bear,
But the Inhabitants in want do to the Sea repair.
Their Darts and Bows to Waves they owe,
Their Houses do from Tempests grow:
Their Food they draw from Tydes;
And their cold frozen Sea their usefull Fire provides.

XV.

I saw the Sea-Mors chac'd, whose prized Horn
That doth his fatal Head adorn
His Destiny doth bequeath,
And what's design'd his Safety, proves his Death:
Where Isles of Ice, remote from any Shore,
Themselves at eighty Fathom moar:
Look like a Continent,
And Capes and Cliffs, and Promontories represent.
Upon whose Tops wild Beasts do fight,
And Sea-fowls make the Cliffs look doubly white.

XVI.

Nor here my Curiosity was staid,
But with bold Course my daring Eyes survey'd
Where secret Passages o'th' Deep were laid.
Where by the working of the Sea,
Or by some secret Cause to us unknown;
The winding waters find their hidden way:
And straining thrô the Earth do leave behind
The Saltness, they did from their Mother own,
Till fit for Use, Delight, and Nourishment, they'r grown.
And on some Mountain's side
They do a Passage find:
Thrô flowry Meadows wind,
Thrô fruitfull Valleys glide
Till they i'th' Sea again do their Ennobled Waters hide.

XVII.

Nor did I fear
Beneath stupendious Rocks my Course to steer;
The hidden Tracts and lonely Vaults to' explore,
That under Mighty Realms do sink,
Thrô which the thirsty Caspian,
The CASPIAN, that doth numerous Rivers drink,
Yet still unsatisfi'd doth gape for more,
Nor ever swells with all the Store,
Empties it self into th' Mediterranean.
I did not fear the headlong Gulf, which all
The Mariners its Navel call:
The Vortex, which the Sea drinks down,
And all, that comes within its Verge, doth drown.

XVIII.

Nor to my Curious Search did secret lie
The devious Ways in Regions deep below,
That do 'twixt distant Lakes and Oceans go.

How the Friendly Waters meet,
How the Shoals of Fishes greet
In Realms yet undiscover'd to the Eye.
How Meers, whose Heads and Springs we cannot see,
Nor what their Sourse doth breed,
An Entercourse do keep
With Caverns under Mountains laid,
Or with the Treasures of the Deep:
How what the Sea doth from the Land receive,
When swelling Rivers to her Bosom come,
She back again in Springs and Showers doth give,
And keeps an Æquilibrium.

XIX.

There lies a Deep, if we may Truth receive
From those, that on the Seas do live,
Not far from th' CAPE, that hath a Name from Hope,
Where no Art can a Bottom gain;
Thô they a thousand Fathom sound with Rope,
But all their Labour and their Charge is vain.
Here I sunk down into the deep Abyss,
Where no created Being e're before
The Secrets went to' explore,
Or Nature's Work, that near the Center lies.
Below vast Rocks and massy Mounts I past,
Such as the Upper World don't know;
The Strength and Fortresses below,
On which the World is plac'd:
Till thrô dark Paths and uncut Ways,
Being arriv'd at th' utmost Place,
Where ev'en sharp Thoughts could not a farther passage trace;
I my wearied Journey staid
At Natures Bars, by the Almighty made.

XX.

The Bars, that fence the Windows of the Deep,
The raging Waves secure;
Lest they again the Earth should sweep,
And all Mankind devour.
But who the wondrous Locks can tell
VVho can the Adamantine Gates reveal?
That fortifie the firm Decree,
Which hath forbid the Ocean to rebell,
Set Limits to the Imperious Sea,
And made her in her Confines dwell.
Here I in vain for Dæmogorgon sought,
The Monster, ancient Ages thought,
Did at the Center lie;
The VVorld did actuate;
Whose Breath did make the Seas with Tydes to swell,
And whose unruly Motion Earthquakes did create.

XXI.

Now thrô dark subterranean Caverns led
And solitary Roads below;
Upon whose Brow sits dismal Night,
VVhere massy Rocks exclude the Light;
VVhere ghastly Horrour and Distraction's laid.
Led by Instinct, not by Sight,
VVhere Zembre's Lake doth fruitfull Waters show,
The wish'd-for Light I do regain,
And what Antiquity did never know
Find Nile's Illustrious Head.
Down all his glorious Course I cut my Way,
Thrô all the Realms that do his Waves adore;
The thirsty Nations that his Help implore:
Not the steep Cataracts could force my stay,
VVhose dreadfull Downfall doth the Sight surprize,
And dulls the Eye, as th' Ear is deafned with the Noise:

My daring Course with them I downward led,
Nor fear'd the Treacherous Crocodile,
Nor Hippopotamus of Nile:
View'd the remains of Dark Antiquity,
Wept o'r its Pristin Glory fled,
And griev'd to see the Marks of present Slavery.

XXII.

Nor did the Jewish Sea,
Fill'd with Bitumen 'scape Discoverie:
Trembling I at its Borders stood,
But durst not trust the Poys'nous Flood.
No Creature can the Noxious Waves abide,
Nothing can thrô the Waters safely glide,
Not Birds unhurt are to fly o'r't allow'd.
The Towns beneath do yet their Beauty bear,
For they alas not Guilty were,
The Men did all the Sin and all the Judgment share.
Around th' Infectious Shore
Fair-Trees deceitfull Apples bore,
To th' Eye they did with ravishing Beauty shine;
(Such are the looks of Sin)
But Loathsom Dust and Ashes held within.

XXIII.

Sometimes in distant Realms I rove,
For Curiosity is unconfin'd;
Where Springs their Vigorous Source send out above,
Or where vast Rocks below their Streams do bind.
Where they, unseen by Mortal Eye,
The Subterranean Progeny do feed;
Or Dæmons of the Mines (if any such there be)
Or beneath Rocks Metallick Compounds breed.
Below the Alps now my Dark Course is led,
Where PELION upon OSSA'S thrown,

Where Hills on Hills, Mountains on Mountains stand,
Till they to Heaven lift their Aspiring Head;
And do not seem the Work of Nature's hand,
But broken Ruines of the former World.—
The Monstrous Caverns, that Vast Depths do hold,
In their wide Arms do Seas enfold.
Who can their secret Sources show?
Whether they swell from melted Snow,
Which ever Crowns their Hoary Head:
Or whether from condensed Air they'r bred,
In Great Vacuities below:
Or whether from the Sea their secret Course doth flow:
The boundless Treasure's in their Bowels laid,
The Minerals, that there abound,
And Richly pay for all the Barren Ground.

XXIV.

To all the Lakes from these Abysses bred,
By hidden winding ways I pass'd:
Now I in Switzerland lift up my Head,
And trembling and agast
The barren Rocks and threatning Mountains dread:
Where Nature shows but a Step-Mother's Love;
Where the harsh Soil unkind doth prove;
Yet all is sweetned by Bless'd Liberty.
Their rugged Rocks, that scarce their Toil repay,
Their Vales with headlong Torrents wash't away,
They more do Prize than Dangerous State.
Than Smiling Treacherous Pageantry,
VVhile Peace and Safety do upon them wait.

XXV.

Now I i'th Garden of the VVorld do rise,
The Queen of Nations ITALY,
And from a Lake behold the Country round,
Which doth with Nature's Gifts abound,

And only Freedom wants to mak't a Paradise.
But see the Dreadfull Curse of Tyranny!
The untill'd Soil doth Mourn its State,
Th' unpeopled Land a VVilderness doth ly,
The wearied Peasant doth lament his Fate,
VVorks for what He ne'r enjoys;
But Groans, Sinks, and Expires beneath his Miseries.
Rapine and dire Oppression all doth seize,
And Curses, what God Bless'd before.
In vain God Plenty sends, and Store,
If dire Exactions keeps the Subjects poor.
Adam from Paradise was driven;—
And here Men fly the next Bless'd Place to Heaven.

IV. PART IV.

STANZA I.

No Corner of the World my Course did miss:
Not the unconstant stormy Irish Seas,
Which even the Adrian Friths surpass:
Not Naked savage Orcades,
Nor Thule, which from Rome the Farthest lay
Of all the Islands, She found out i'th' Sea.
Not Norway Deeps, where the Prophetick Whale doth lie;
Till the approaching Destiny
Of Him, whom all the Nation doth obey,
Doth call him up from's solitary Room,
In Regions deep below, to tell the World the Doom.
Not the tempestuous Seas, where Dæmons dwell,
Where Spirits rule the Winds, and move the Sea
The Air and Ocean sway,
And Lapland Witches Winds do sell.

II.

Not Seas and Lands by Icy Mountains barr'd,
The Curse of Nature made in spight,
Where fearless Bears the Shoars do guard,
And like their Land are cloath'd in white.
Yet (so each One is to his Native Country kind)
Spight of th' Inclemencies of Soil and Wind,

The Region doth within possess
(Whom their own Land the best doth please)
An Olive-colour'd Race of Savages.
Nor could I without Pitty see
The poor Remains of Thee, Great Willoughby!
Whose Breast retain'd a Generous Fire,
Enough to' have thaw'd the Polar Ice:
But doom'd by the more rigid Destinies,
Disdaining thou by Night and Frost wer't forced to expire.
Thy shatter'd Hulk a Seamark lies,
And doth forbid farther Discoveries:
Nor th' unrelenting Element to dare,
That would not so much Vertue spare.

III.

Nor did I lose
The moving Sight of those,
That while they sought the happy Coast,
Where the Seas Bosom opens to Cathay;
I'th' unknown untrac'd way,
In spight o'th' Zenith Cynosure were lost.
Where broken Isles is all the Land,
Rough Icy Mountains all the Strand;
That scarce a Living Creature doth contain,
And (if ought be) doth seem by Nature made in vain.
Whose Seas do with the Land Resemblance hold,
Now an unfathomable Deep
And now a Shoaly Sea:
Now Rocks, that do forbid a VVay,
Now an Abyss Precipitous and steep:
Besides the lasting Curse of Night and Cold.
Nor, Daring Gilbert, was thy Tract yet lost;
When thou at Newfound-land took'st Seisure of the Coast.
Great the Designs, which did out-brave thy Fate,
Thou liv'st in Fame, and art than Destiny more Great.

IV.

By all the Coasts, that English Ships do plow,
VVhen they to fruitfull Colonies do go:
VVhere they the Skins of Beasts and Birds do wear,
VVhere they adorn'd with Feathers do appear,
And where in Cloaths of downy Moss they pride.
From hence my speedy Course did glide
To Florida, that ope's her beauteous Bosom wide.
Florida, the Scene of Blood,
That hath unconquer'd stood
By Spanish Rage, or English Courtesie.
By all the Coasts, that Gold so oft devours,
The gilded Spanish Shoars:
All the Rich Wrecks, that overspread the Sea,
All those in the Campeche Bay,
So oft inur'd to Pyracy;
VVhen Boucaniers their Pranks do play:
And what all Ills hath suffer'd, PANAMA;
The Glorious Island, once the Ocean's Pride,
That now a Wilderness doth lie:
Hispaniola, that did Empress tide;
The fatal Inlet into Slavery.
That first by ventrous Mariner was spy'd;
VVhen the despairing Fleet had else return'd,
VVhose Height so oft enslaved India mourn'd.

V.

By all the scatter'd Isles, that guard the Western Shoar;
VVhere barbarous Cannibals do on their Neighbours prey:
Who Neptune's bosom in their Canoos scour,
And bloody Teeth do on Men's Entrails lay;
Carouse in Enemies Blood,
And the yet-quaking Members make their Food
All, where the Amazonian River flows,
That from a thousand Streams renowned grows.

All, that the fair Guiana shows,
Immortaliz'd by Raleigh's Pen.
Or that, which hath its Name from Plate,
And groans so oft beneath the Precious weight:
All the Inhospitable Shores for Men,
Down to the dismall Straits of Megallan.

VI.

I found out all the Solitary Isles,
VVhere Uncorrupted Nature smiles,
Spread out in spacious Deeps alone:
That ne're to Knowledge were betray'd,
And happy, it they never be;
So blessed 'tis to be Unknown,
And ly from Danger, as Discovery, free!
Riches, when known, expose to Prey,
And Happiness, when envy'd, doth betray,
And to Invasion ope's a way.
Cut from the VVorld these nothing Dread,
But, thankfull, on what Nature gives, do feed.
Know but their own, and have no wild Desires,
Nor nourish in their Breast Tyrannick Fires.
Think, there's no VVorld but what they do enjoy,
Nor yet beyond their Coast their VVishes fly.
Blessed in Peace, and in unsullied Joy,
Bless'd in, the Crown of Blessings, Liberty:
Bless'd, that ne're long for Foreign Stores,
Nor foreign Vices nourish on their Shores!
Here fixt Content doth place her Seat,
Beyond ev'n Philosophick Notions Great.
Happy in Ignorance, they know no more,
Than Nature's humble Store;
Pleas'd with their state, they Strangers are to Care,
They nothing hope for, and they nothing fear.

VII.

All those, that far from Entercourse are laid,
And do just Admiration gain,
(Since they know none, and are to all unknown)
How Men and Beasts were into them convey'd.
Except they did remain,
When swallow'd Continents sunk down:
Or by Angelick Ministry the work was done.
Those, whom kind Nature doth bestow
To be the Seaman's Guide;
And kind Refreshment to provide:
Where Tortoyses sweet Food to them allow,
Whom the salt Waves and salter Food had dri'ed:
Where the salubrious Air
And limpid Water doth their broken Spirits cheer.

VIII.

Nor did I miss the Southern unknown Coast,
That doth of boundless Riches boast;
And dares the bold Discoverer:
Whose Virgin Soil ne're yet did Stranger bear,
Nor European Keel her Seas did ever tear.
Vast spacious Tracts that Coast shall once unfold,
Even to the Southern frozen Zone:
Which vainly now are judged Sea;
(And so was once America)
As great, as are the Worlds already known;
That yet in Darkness and Obscurity lie down.
That do invaluable Treasures hold
Of what, all Men adore, Eye-dazling Gold.

IX.

The quiet Waves of the Pacifick Sea,
Where seldom Tempests rage,
Or Storms with shatter'd Ships engage;
But Nature there in her Repose doth lie.

Where the Inhabitants of America,
That the South Sea enjoy:
Free from fear and from annoy,
Sleep on the Shore in soft security
With Bars of massy Silver by.
They leave their Ships at Ancker on the Shore,
Thô fraighted with inestimable Store,
And far within the Land themselves employ:
And neither Tempests fear nor Pyracy.
By all the Happy Coast I pass'd,
Happy in every thing, but Liberty:
Where yet the Marks of DRAKE and CANDISH last,
The scourges of the Spanish Pride.
I saw where the Vast Carrack once did ride,
Enrich'd with all the Indian Store,
Which Noble CANDISH by his Valour bore;
And round the World in Triumph drew:
While trembling Spain lay gasping at the View.

X.

Hence thrô the Spacious Main,
The way, that our Great Hero went,
Along his shining Tract I ran
To every Indian Isle and Continent.
The Seas, that do embrace the PHILIPPINES,
Which Nature scattering o'r the Ocean throws:
That, which around MALDIVA shines,
Where the Sea-Coco under water grows,
And a Medicinal Juice for Poyson shows.
The Sea, that the MOLUCCO Isles confines,
Whose Fragrant Cloves the World do Store,
And th' Ocean do perfume, when out of sight of Shore.
Those, who their Parents, when they'r old, do eat,
Those, who the Fig-tree make their Meat,
Those, who from Coco-leaves their cloaths do get.

Lands, that such Monstrous Crabs do breed,
That Men their Dangerous Neighbourhood do dread;
For what they grasp, they kill.
Those, who such Giant Tortoyses do find,
Ten Men their hollow Cavity can't fill,
But have at once within them din'd.
Thrô all that Sea, that's thick with Islands sown,
And's Nature's Harvest when well grown,
My Vigorous Course did go—
From the Contemned Islands of the Main,
Which no distinctive Names do know,
To

So Mercator &c. But others make Zedan as Barrius and Varnerius.

Sumatra, the ancient Taprobane.

XI.

Nor did that Coast escape my View,
Whose Riches and unbounded Stores
From forreign Climes and distant Shores
So many Lovers drew:
The Indian Sea, where all the World doth greet,
The Center where from every part they meet:
The Sea, that ne'r doth rest,
Whom Tydes and Tempests break, but most the plowing Keels molest:
The Shores, where Wives with their Dead Husbands burn,
And mix their Loving Ashes in one Urn.
Where Servants with their Masters die,
That in the other world they may not unattended be.
Where Pythagoreans do all Flesh forbear,
And whatsoe'r hath Life do spare:
That Lawn before their Faces wear,
Lest their unwary breath,
Should give a Fly or Insect Death.

XII.

Where Brachman's with a Stoical Pride
Do the extremity of Heat and Cold abide.

The Shore, where Ganges is ador'd,
And is with Pilgrims from all Quarters stor'd,
Who in his Waves do hope to wash their Sins away:
Where they to Monstrous Pagods pray,
Whose Dreadfull Looks do the Adorers scare,
And only can be worshipped for fear.
Where Hospitals for Birds and Beasts they build,
And buy their Lives off, when they'r to be kill'd.
The Barbarous Shore,
Where what they first at Morning meet, they all the Day adore.
Or what the rest in Folly doth excell,
Where they the APES Tooth worship, PERIMAL
The Sea of Bengala inslav'd to Lust:
Or th' black-Mouth'd beardless PEGUAN:
Or where the KING can't his own Issue trust,
But's Sisters Son doth after Reign.

XIII.

Nor could I miss Cape Comori,
Where Mounts of Fruitfull Shell-fish ly,
That Orient Pearls do in their womb contain.
Where the bold Indian Jumps into the Main,
Doth down unto the Shining Bottom Dive,
That needs no Light, but what the Pearls do give.
That up a precious Load doth bear;
Unto the Sun and Air
The rugged Oysters doth expose,
Whose Heat the Treasures do disclose.
While SHARKS and HAVENS wait
To bring the Wretch his Fate;
And with a Dire Revenge, repay
Th' Invasion of their Element, the Sea.
Pearls the too Costly Price of Blood!
That neither Clothing can bestow nor Food;

That one single Life can't buy,
Made not for Nature's wants, but Luxury.

XIV.

Nor did I the Arabian Gulph omit,
Where the Impostor doth in Triumph sit.
Nor yet that Sea, whose red Discolour'd Stream
To endless Disputation gives a Theam:
Which the Jews wondrous Passage tells,
And yet retains the Marks of Pharaoh's Chariot-wheels.
But in the Tract, that Solomon's Ships did pass
My Course to Sophola did hold,
By Wise-Men thought th' OPHIR of old,
And yet Renown'd for Gold.
Whose Mines even Admiration do surpass:
Whose Buildings yet do Ancient Greatness bear,
Engrav'd with many an Antique Character.

XV.

Nor did I fear the Dreadfull CAPE to pass,
Of the known World the Farthest Part:
Where Storms and Thunder do make Nature start.
Where th' Elements do know no Peace,
Where Feuds and Quarrels never cease;
Whose Threatning Mountains have defy'd the Main,
That hath for many Ages beat in Vain
Those Adamantine Rocks, that yet its fury do restrain.
Twice I cut the Burning Line,
Where Perpendicular Rays do from the Zenith shine.
I swiftly pass'd th' Unnatural Shore;
Where Parents do their Children sell,
And Children cruelly do with their Parents deal.
Where Niger's Streams the Parched Fields restore,
And spight of the Sun's dazling Light
On every Face writes Night.

Nor did my Course the Wondrous Isles forgo,
Where Weeping Trees bedew the Thirsty Plain,
And with their Fruitfull Drops supply the Place of Rain,
And Phaethon's Sisters in their Tears outdo.
And what no less a Wonder may appear,
Where Trees do Clustring Heaps of Oysters bear.
To all the Scatter'd Isles my Course I Steer,
Where groaning Atlas sinks beneath his Weight;
All the Rude Coasts to the Herculean straight.

XVI.

Enterd; The Barbarous Africk Shore I spy'd,
Where once Rome's Emulous Foe with Haughty Pride
Lifted her Crest on high:
Her very Ruines ruined
I could not without Indignation see,
That once stood Candidate the Universe to Guide.
Nor could I unsaluted MALTA pass,
Where Valour doth Triumphant sit,
And Rears on High the Christian Name:
Once a Contemned Despicable Place,
Whose Barren Rocks, but for Sea-Monsters fit,
With Man could scarcely Friendship claim.
So Time and Change is over all things spread;
And that, which once liv'd High in Fame, lies Dead,
And what lay low in Dust, exalts a Glorious Head.

XVII.

Malta, thou now art Darling Child of Fame;
Yet this unto thy Worth thou dost not owe;
From thy Brave Valiant Sons thy Fame doth grow.
Regions and Citties are but Senseless things,
Nor of themselves Renown acquire;
The dull Gross Matter wants an Actuating Fire;
And when they do to Noble Acts aspire,

They owe the Motion to Great Captains, and to Valiant Kings.
'Twas not the Buildings made Rome Great,
Nor was't the Capitol the World obey'd:
Scipio and Cæsar did Her Fame create,
And Her Commanders Her to Grandeur led;
Their Conduct and the Souldiers Valour did erect Her State.

XVIII.

Greece yet remains; the Soil's the same,
In every Thing but Men and Fame;
The Ground, whereon She did her Citties raise,
With weeping Eyes yet Travellers do trace;
But oh! A Fatal Change from what it was.
Fruitfulness yet upon Her Bosom's spread,
And Plenty on Her Face doth smile:
But yet the Quintessence is fled;
The Change is in the Men and not the Soil.
The Men Greece Learned made,
They Her Repute for Valour rais'd:
They were the Souls, and when they fled,
The Carcasses Deformed lay and Dead:
Now Cowardise and Ignorance the Region hath debas'd.

XIX.

Nor know we Blessed Isle, but Thou
And Venice, which from small beginnings sprung,
As former Times did not your Glory know,
Which now's in Acts of Valiant Heroes sung.
When your Great Souls (as they) must oncely Dead
(The General Lot that haps to all;
If others rise not in their stead;)
In Fame, which is not to your Seats confin'd,
But's the Reflection of a Gallant Mind;
You may from your Exalted Stations fall:
And other Seats, that yet no Worth do show,

By Fate's unseen Decree
May lift their low and obscure Heads on high;
And from one HERO may Immortal grow:
As to Epaminondas Thebes her Name did ow.

XX.

I saw Nile's troubled Stream,
For Learned Pens a lasting Theme,
That doth bless'd Fruitfulness bestow.
And the once Famous Road,
Where Cæsar's Navy stood;
When Ægypt did beneath his Scepter bow:
Where Tyre once did with Pride and Riches swell;
Now desolate and Forlorn:
The Fam'd SIGÆUM Promontory, where
Homer's Immortal Heroes buried were.
Nor did I miss the Bay,
Where once the Græcian Navy lay,
Whom HECTOR's Flames did burn.
With mixed Scorn and Anger I beheld
SCAMANDER's celebrated Stream,
So oft with Greek and Trojan Bodies fill'd;
Whose rapid Floods whole Armies bore away
Into the Neighbouring Sea:
(If We, what ancient Bards relate, esteem)
Now a contemned despicable Rill,
Whom Winter's Rains do fill;
But Summer Heats doth of its Force bereave:
And thence doth Ground for our Suspition give,
That all the Celebrated Tale was but a Poet's Dream.

XXI.

I view'd the Ports in History Renown'd;
The States by lavish Poets crown'd,
That did in Arts or Arms abound:

Once the World's Pride and now its Shame,
Which are in their dark Ruines sought in vain,
That even their very Shadows don't remain,
Mortal in (what they priz'd) ev'n their Immortal Name.
Greece, that none Learn'd or Civil would allow,
To all the World is a Barbarian now.
The Seas, which once her numerous Ships did plow,
The Sporades i'th' the Ocean laid,
The Isles, that did to highest Splendour grow,
Now either Uninhabited,
Or else with Barbarism do lie o'respread:
That even Geographers can scarce make good,
Where Learned Athens, or Voluptuous Corinth stood.

XXII.

From these sad Objects I was call'd away
By a Vulcano, that arose
In an unfathomable Sea:
Or that the dreadfull Place of Punishment
Had there a Vent,
And did its furious Flames disclose:
Or that the Subterranean Heat
Had worn the Bounds so thin,
Had with such Force against the Barriers beat;
They could not keep their eating Prisoners in:
Or that a sulphurous Mine took fire
And up unto the Stars the Seas did blow:
Or that some daring Engineer below
With his bold Art did up to Heaven aspire.

XXIII.

A sudden Fire from the Sea's Bottom broak:
The wrestling Elements the whole World shook.
Phœbus and Neptune ne're before
Did Martial up in Troops their Emulous Power:

But in his Orb with Quiet blest
Each of his Realms the Rule possest.
The Government o'th' Sea the Moon
By ancient Right did own;
But, Lofty Phœbus, ne're before
Was Tethys thus subjected to thy Power;
Nor, except under thine Ambitious Son,
Suffer'd till now a Conflagration.
Water once rul'd the World: and once in Fire
Her old decaying Fabrick must expire.
When two such Potent Foes do disagree
How Dreadfull and Amazing must the Battel be?

XXIV.

A wide-stretch'd Mouth did vomit Thunder out,
Mountainous Stones from thence did fly,
As thô intended to Bombard the Sky.
In vain the Sea to quench the Furnace try'd,
Her Realm of Waves to get the Victory brought:
The Oiley Streams new Pabulum supply'd,
And sulphurous Mines within did warlike Store provide.
Untill at last, when nought could part the Foes,
But Heaven and Earth seem'd at a loss;
They of Themselves, weary of ill-spent Store,
Did let the undecided Battle fall:
Resign'd again the Claim to' each other's Power,
And Peace in Triumph did o're Earth and Sea install.

XXV.

Thrô all the TYRRHEN and the ADRIAN Sea
I cut my untrackt Way:
And saw the Wrecks in their unrifled Bed,
By Carthaginian Ships or Roman made:
And could th' Antiquities, that there are laid,
By Art be thence convey'd,
How would they please the Curious Eye?
The Rarities what Sums could buy?

XXVI.

Not Hercules Pillars could my Course confine,
I thrô the boundless Ocean steer'd,
And neither Storms nor Tempests fear'd:
The Marks of Roman Greatness view'd,
That all the Northern Continent subdu'd,
That did eternal Honour win:
Saw, where Great Cæsar first did trust the Sea,
When he design'd on Brittany;
And where his threatning Ships did stay.
The Noted DOWNES, the Seat of War,
That doth so oft engaging Navies bear:
Whose Bottom is an Armory,
That might an Iron Age supply;
Where Valiant TRUMP and OPDAM lie,
Whose gallant Acts a just Repute did gain:
In this ally'd to Immortality,
They were by Valiant English Heroes slain.
Happy; if other Foes they'd met i'th' watry Field!
Their Genii onely could to Nobler Brittains yield.

XXVII.

Nor could I, Noble SANDWICH, pass thy Fall,
For Evil Times too Brave a General!
Rumour (and who's from Malice free)
With pois'nous Lies had blasted Thee.
'Tis true thy Honour was above their Hate,
But Fame, that's priz'd by th' Generous and Great,
Unjustly Tax'd, fill'd thy Great Soul with Grief:
Nor could thy Prince's Kindness bring Relief.
No more, Proud Dutch, in your fam'd Victory pride;
He to his Countrymen his Ruine owes:
Who not by Valour, but by Treachery dy'd,
And not by Dutch, but by his English, Foes.

XXVIII.

So, my Wide Wishes satisfi'd,
Nothing unto my Daring Soul deny'd
Of all in which the Sea doth pride,
Neptune his Order did revoke,
The Charms, which made the Transformation, broke;
And Me my Fishy Shape forsook.
Bigg with desired Knowledge I regain,
The Nobler Form of Man:
And by the Sea-Gods Care,
From the dark Bottom, whence but Few return,
On TRITONS Backs I'm kindly born,
And with a Vigorous Warmth desire the upper Realms of Air.

The End.