Want nor wanton Wealth But what proportion'd is to Life and Health For not the Dead but Living sing thy Praise Exalt thy Kingdom and thy Glory raise Favete Linguis Virginibus Puerisque Canto Horat. Of the last Verses in the Book WHen we for Age could neither read nor write The Subject made us able to indite The Soul with Nobler Resolutions deckt The Body stooping does Herself erect No Mortal Parts are requisite to raise Her that Unbody'd can her Maker praise The Seas are quiet when the Winds give o're So calm are we when Passions are no more For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting Things so certain to be lost Clouds of Affection from our younger Eyes Conceal that emptiness which Age descries The Soul 's dark Cottage batter'd and decay'd Let 's in new Light thrô chinks that time has made Stronger by weakness wiser Men become As they draw near to their Eternal home Leaving the Old both Worlds at once they view That stand upon the Threshold of the New Miratur Limen Olympi Virgil. FINIS THE TABLE TO the King on His Navy Pag. 1 Of the Dangâ—r His Majesty being Prince esâ—aped in the road at Saint Anderes 3 Of His Majesties * receiuing the Neâ—s of the Dukâ— of Buckingham's death 13 To thâ— Queen occasioned upon sight of Her Majesties picture 15 Vpon his Majesties repairing of Pauls 19 The Country to my Lady of Carlisse 23 The Countess of Carlisle iâ— Mourning 24 In answer to one who writ against a fair Lady 27 On my Lady Dorothy Sidneys Picture 29 To Vandike 30 Of the Lady who can sleep when she pleases 33 Of the misreport of her being painted 34 Of her passing through a crowd of People 36 The story of Phoebus and Daphne applied 37 Fabula Phoebi Daphnis 38 Of Mrs. Arden 39 To Amorett 40 On the Head of a Stag. 44 To a Lady in a Garden 45 The Misers Speech in a Mask 46 On the friendship betwixt two Ladies 48 Of her Chamber 49 Of loving at first sight 51 The self banished 52 SONG 53 Thirsis Galatea 55 The Battel of the Summer Islands in three Canto's 58 SONG 71 Of Love 72 To Phillis 75 To Phillis 76 SONG 78 SONG 79 To Amorett 80 To my Lord of Falkland 81 For drinking of Healths 83 On my Lady Isabella playing on the Lute 84 To a Lady singing of a Song of his Composing 85 Of the Marriage of the Dwarfs 86 Loves Farewel 8â— From a Child 89 On a Girdle 90 The Apology of Sleep For not approaching the Lady who can do anything but sleep when she pleaseth 91 At Pens-hurst 93 Another 96 To my Lord of Leicester 98 To a very young Lady 100 SONG 101 SONG 103 On the discovery of a Ladies Painting 104 To a Lady from whom he received a Silver Pen. 106 On a Brede of divers colours woven by four Ladies 107 To my Lord of Northumberland upon the Death of his Lady 108 To my Lord Admiral of his late Sickness and Recovery 111 〈◊〉 Malade 114 Of the Queen 116 Vpon the Death of my Lady Rich. 120 To the Queen-Mother of France upon her Landing 125 To the mutable Fair. 127 Of Salley 131 Puerperium 133 Of a Lady who writ in praise of Mira. 135 â—o one married to an old man Ibid. To Flavia a Song 136 â—he Fall 137 Of Silvia 138 The Budd 139 Vpon Ben. Johnson 141 To Mr. George Sands on his Translation of some parts of the Bible 143 Chloris and Hilas made to a Saraban 144 Vnder a Ladies Picture 145 In answer of Sir John Suckling's Verses 146 To a Friend of the different success of their Loves 150 An Apology for having loved before 152 To Zelenda 154 On Mr. John Fletcher's Plays 156 To Chloris 158 On St. Jame's Park as lately improv'd by his Majesty Ibid. To Sir William Davenant upon his two first Books of Gondibert written in France 166 To my worthy Friend the Translator of Gratius 169 To the King upon his Majesties happy Return 171 To my Lady Morton on New-years-day 1650. at the Louvre in Paris 178 Of a fair Lady playing with a Snake 1â—1 To his worthy Friend Mr. E'velyn upon his Translation of Lucretius 182 Part of the fourth Book of Virgil Translated 185 Vpon a War with Spain and a Fight at Sea 193 Epitaph to be written under the Latine inscription upon the Tomb of the only Son of the Lord Andover 199 To the Queen upon her Majesties Birth-day after Her happy recovery from a dangerous sickness 200 Instructions to a Painter for the drawing of the Posture and Progress of His Majesties Forces at Sea under the Command of his Highness-Royal Together with the Battel and Victory obtained over the Duch June 3. 1665. 203 To the King 222 To a Friend of the Authors a Person of Honour who lately writ a Religious Book Entituled Historical Applications and occasional Meditations upon several Subjects 224 To Mr. Henry Laws who had then newly set a Song of mine in the year 1635. 225 Vpon Her Majesties new Buildings at Somerset-House 227 On the picture of afair Youth taken after he was dead 230 Epigram upon the Golden Medal 231 Of a Tree cut in Paper 232 To a Lady from whom be received the foregoing Copy which for many Years had been lost 233 The Night-piece or a Picture drawn in the dark 234 Of English Verse 236 Soâ—g by Mrs. Knight to Her Majesty on Her Birth-day 238 To his 〈◊〉 by Friend Sir Thomas Higgons upon his Tranâ—â—tion of his Venetian Triumph 240 Epitaph 241 Of Her Royal Highness Mother to the Prince of Orange and of â—er Portrâ—ictt written by the late Dutchess of York white she lived with her â—44 To the Dutchess of Orleans when she was taking leave of the Cours at Dover 245 Written on a Cord that Her Majesty tore at Ombra 246 To â—he Dutchess when he presented this Book to Her Royal Highness 247 Verse writ in the Tasso of her Royal Highness 248 Vpon our late loss of the Duke of Cambridge 249 Translated out of Spanish 250 Of the Lady Mary c. Ibid. To the Servant of a fair Lady 253 Vpon the Earl of Roscommon's Translation of Horace de Arte Poetica And of the use of Poetry 255 Epitaph on Sir George Speke 258 Of Her Majesty on New-years-day 1683. 261 A Presage of the Ruine of the Turkish Empire presented to His Majesty on His Birth-day 262 Of Divine Love 267 Of Divine Poesie 287 FINIS Supposed to be the Lord Berkley of Bethley
D'avenant upon his Two firâ—â— Books of Gondibert written in â—rance THus the wiâ—e Nightingale that leaves her hoâ—â— Her native Wood when storms and winter 〈◊〉 Pursuing constantly the chearful Spring To forein Groves does her old Musick bring The 〈…〉 unstrung At 〈◊〉 upon the Willows hung Yours sounds aloud and tells us you excell No less in Couâ—â—ge than in Singing well Whilst unconcern'd you let your Countrey know They have impoverished themselveâ— not you Who with the Muses help can mock those Fates Which threaten Kingdoms and disorder States So Ovid when from Câ—sar 's rage he fleâ— The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led Where he so sung that we through pities Glass See Nero milder than Augustus was Hereafter such in thy behalf shall be Th'indulgent Censure of Posterity To banish those who with such art can sing â—â—a rude crime which its own curse does bring â—ges to come shall ne'r know how they fought Nor how to Love their present Youth be taught This to thy self Now to thy matchless Book Wherein those few that can with Judgment look May find old Love in pure fresh Language told Like new stampt-Coin made out of Angel-gold Such truth in Love as th'antique world did know In such a stile 〈◊〉 Courts may boast of now Which no bold tales of Gods or Monsters swell But humane Passions such as with us dwell Man is thy â—heme his Vertue or his Rage Drawn to the Life in each elaborate Page Mars nor Beâ—ona are not named here But such a Gondibert as both might fear Venus had here and Hebe been out-shin'd By the bright Birtha and thy Rhodalind Such is thy happy skill and such the odds Betwixt thy Worthies and the Grecian gods Whose Deities in vain had here come down Where moâ—â— al Beauty wears the Soveraign Crown Such as of flesh compos'd by flesh and blood Though not resisted may be understood To my worthy Friend Mr. Wase the Translator of Gratius THus by the Musick we may know When Noble Wits a Hunting go Through Groves that on Parnassus grow The Muses all the Chase adorn My Friend on Pegasus is born And young Apollo winds the Horn. Having old Gratius in the wind No pack of Critiques e're could find Or he know more of his own mind Here Huntsmen with delight may read How to chuse Dogs for scent or speed And how to change or mend the breed What Arms to use or Nets to frame Wild Beasts to combat or to tame With all the Mysteries of that game But worthy Friend the face of War In antient times does differ â—ar From what our fiery battles are Nor is it like since powder known That man so â—ruel to his own Should spare the race of Beasts alone No quarter now but with the Gun Men wait in Trees from Sun to Sun And all is in a moment done And therefore we expect your next Should be no Comment but a Text To tell how modern Beasts are vext Thus would I further yet engage Your gentle Muse to court the age With somewhat of your proper rage Since none does more to 〈◊〉 owe Or in more Languages can show Those Arts which you so early know To the King upon His Majesties happy Return THe rising Sun complies with our weak sight First gilds the clouds then shews his globe of light At such a distance from our eyes as though He knew what harm his hasty Beams would do But your full MAIESTY at once breaks forth In the Meridian of Your Reign Your Worth Your Youth and all the splendor of Your State Wrapt up till now in clouds of adverse Fate With such a floud of light invade our eyes And our spread hearts with so great joy surprize That if Your Grace incline that we should live You must not SIR too hastily forgive Our guilt preserves us from th' excess of joy Which scatters 〈◊〉 and would life destroy All are obnoxious and this faulty Land Like fâ—inting Hester does before you stand Watching your Scepter the revolted Sea Trembles to think she did your Foes obey Great Britâ—â—iâ— Like blind Rolipheme of late In a wild râ—ge became the scorn and hate Of her proud Neighbors who began to think She with the weight of her own force would sink But You are come and all their hopes are vain This Giant Isle has got her Eye again Now she might spare the Ocean and oppose Your conduct to the fiercest of her Foes Naked the Graces guarded you from all Dangers abroad and now your Thunder shall Princes that saw you different Passions prove For now they dread the Object of their love Nor without envy can behold His height Whose Conversation was their late delight So Semele contented with the rape Of Iove disguised in a mortal shape When she beheld his hands with lightning fill'd and his bright rayes was with amazement kill'd And though it be our sorrow and our crime To have accepted life so long a time Without You here yet does this absence gain No small advantage to Your present Reign For having view'd the persons and the things The Councils State and Strength of Europe's Kings You know your work Ambition to restrain And set them bounds as Heav'n does to the Main We have you now with ruling wisdom fraught Not such as Books but such as Practice taught So the lâ—st Sun while least by us enjoy'd Is the whole night for our concern imploy'd He ripens Spices Fruit and precious Gums Which from remotest Regions hither comes This seat of Yours from th' other world remov'd Had Archimede's known he might have prov'd His Engines force fixt here your power and skill Make the world's motion wait upon your will Much suffering Monarch the first English born That has the Crown of these three Nations worn How has your patience with the barbarous rage Of Your own Soil contended half an age Till Your try'd Vertue and Your sacred Word At last preventing Your unwilling Sword Armies and Fleets which kept You out so long Own'd their great Sovereign and redrest His wronâ— When straight the People by no force compell'd Nor longer from their inclination held Break forth at once like Powder let on fire And with a Noble rage their KING require So th'injur'd Sea which from her wonted course To gain some Acres Avarice did force If the new Banks neglected once decay No longer will from her old Channel â—tay Raging the late-got Land the overâ—â—ows And all that 's built upon 't to ruine goes Oâ—â—enders now the chiefeâ—â— do begin To strive for Grace and expiate their 〈◊〉 All Winds blow fair that did the World imbroil Your Vipers Treacle yield and 〈…〉 If then such praise the Macedonian got â—or having rudely cut the Gordian knot What Glory 's due to him that could divide â—uch ravell'd int'rests has the knot unty'd And without stroke so smooth a passage made Where craft and malice such impeachments laid But while we praise You You ascribe it all To his high
what they indite New credit give to ancient Light Amongst these few our Author brings His well-known Pedigree from Kings This Book the Image of his Mind Will make his Name not hard to find I wish the Throng of Great and Good Made it less eas'ly understood To Mr. Henry Lawes who had then newly set a Song of mine in the Year 1635. VErse makes Heroick Vertue live But you can Life to Verses give As when in open Air we blow The Breath though strain'd sounds flat and low But if a Trumpet take the blast It lifts it high and makes it last So in your Ayrs our Numbers drest Make a shrill sally from the Brest Of Nymphs who singing what we pen'd Our passions to themselves commend While Love victorious with thy Art Governs at once their Voice and Heart You by the help of Tune and Time Can make that Song which was but Rime Noy pleading no man doubts the Cause Or questions Verses set by LAWS As a Church-window thick with Paint Le ts in a light but dim and faint So others with Division hide The light of Sence the Poets pride But you alone may truly boast That not a Syllable is lost The Writers and the Setter's skill At once the ravisht Ears do fill Let those which only warble long And Gargle in their Throats a Song Content themselves with VT RE MI Let Words and Sence be set by thee Vpon Her Majesties New Buildings at Somerset-House GReat Queen that does our Island bless With Princes and with Palaces Treated so ill chac'd from your Throne Returning you adorn the Town And with a brave Revenge do show Their Glory went and came with you While Peace from hence and you were gone Your houses in that Storm o'rethrown Those wounds which Civil Rage did give â—t once you Pardon and Relieve Constant to England in your Love As Birds are to their wonted Grove Though by rude hands their Nests are spoil'd There the next Spring again they build Accusing some malignant Star Not Britain for that fatal War Your Kindness banishes your Fear Resolv'd to fix for ever here But what new Mine this work supplies Can such a Pile from Ruine rise This like the first Creation shows As if at your Command it rose Frugality and Bounty too Those differing Virtues meet in you From a confin'd well-manag'd Store You both employ and feed the Poor Let Foreign 〈…〉 boast The rude 〈…〉 Pride and Cost Of 〈…〉 to which They Contribute nothing but the Pay This by the Queen her self design'd Gives us a pattern of her mind The State and Order does proclaim The Genius of that Royal Dame Each part with just proportion grac'd And all to such advantage plac'd That the fair View her Window yields The Town the River and the Fields Entring Beneath us we descry And wonder how we came so high She needs no weary steps ascend All seems before her feet to bend And here as She was born She lies High without taking pains to rise On the Picture of a fair Youth taken after he was dead AS gather'd Flowers whilst their wounds are new Look gay and fresh as on the stalk they grew Torn from the root that nourist them a while Not taking notice of their Fate they smile And in the hand which rudely pluckt them show Fairer than those that to their Autumn grow So Love and Beauty still that Visage grace Death cannot fright them from their wonted place Alive the hand of crooked Age had marr'd Those lovely Features which cold death has spar'd No wonder then The rest is lost Epigram upon the Golden Medal OUR Guard upon the Royal side On the Reverse Our Beauty's pride Here we discern the Frown and Smile The Force and Glory of Our Isle In the rich Medal both so like Immortals stand it seems Antique Carv'd by some Master when the bold Greeks made their Iove descend in Gold And Danae wond'ring at that showr Which falling storm'd her brazen Tow'r Britannia there the Fort in vain Had batter'd been with Golden Rain Thunder it self had fail'd to pass Vertue 's a stronger Guard than Brass Of a Tree cut in Paper FAir Hand that can on Virgin-paper write Yet from the stain of Ink preserve it white Whose travel o're that Silver Field does show Like track of Leveretts in morning Snow Love's Image thus in purest minds is wrought Without a spot or blemish to the thought Strange that your Fingers should the Pencil foil Without the help of Colours or of Oil For though a Painter Boughs and Leaves can make 'T is you alone can make them bend and shake Whose Breath salutes your new created Grove Like Southern winds and makes it gently move Orpheus could make the Forest dance but you Can make the Motion and the Forest too To a Lady from whom he received the foregoing Copy which for many years had been lost NOthing lies hid from radiant Eyes All they subdue become their Spies Secrets as choicest Jewels are Presented to oblige the Fair No wonder then that a lost thought Should there be found where Souls are caught The Picture of fair Venus That For which men say The Goddess sate Was lost till Lilly from your Look Again that Glorious Image took If Vertue 's self were lost we might From your fair Mind new Copies write All things but one you can restore The Heart you get returns no more The Night-piece or a Picture drawn in the dark DArkness which fairest Nymphs disarms Defends us ill from Mira's Charms Mira can lay her Beauty by Take no advantage of the Eye Quit all that Lilly's Art can take And yet a thousand Captives make Her Speech is grac't with sweeter Sound Than in another's Song is found And all her well-plac'd words are Darts Which need no Light to reach our Hearts As the bright Stars and milky way Show'd by the Night are hid by Day So we in that accomplisht Mind Helpt by the Night new Graces find Which by the splendor of her view Dazled before we never knew While we converse with her we mark No want of Day nor think it dark Her shining Image is a light Fixt in our hearts and conquers Night Like Jewels to advantage set Her Beauty by the shade does get There Blushes Frowns and cold Disdain All that our Passion might restrain Is hid and our Indulgent mind Presents the fair Idea kind Yet friended by the Night we dare Only in whispers tell our Care He that on her his bold hand lays With Cupid's pointed Arrows plays They with a touch they are so keen Wound us unshot and She unseen All near approaches threaten Death We may be shipwrackt by her Breath Love favour'd once with that sweet Gale Doubles his Haste and fills his Sail Till he arrive where she must prove The Haven or the Rock of Love So we th' Arabian Coast do know At distance when the Spices blow By the rich Odour taught to steer Though neither Day nor
Stars appear Of English Verse POets may boast as safely-Vain Their work shall with the world remain Both bound together live or die The Verses and the Prophecy But who can hope his Lines should long Last in a daily-changing Tongue While they are new Envy prevails And as that dies our Language fails When Architects have done their part The Matter may betray their Art Time if we use ill-chosen Stone Soon brings a well-built Palace down Poets that lasting Marble seek Must carve in Latine or in Greek We write in Sand our Language grows And like the Tide our work o'reflows Chaucer his Sense can only boast The glory of his Numbers lost Years have defac'd his matchless strain And yet he did not sing in vain The Beauties which adorn'd that Age The shining Subjects of his Rage Hoping they should Immortal prove Rewarded with success his Love This was the generous Poet's scope And all an English Pen can hope To make the Fair approve his Flame That can so far extend their Fame Verse thus design'd has no ill Fate If it arrive but at the Date Of fading Beauty if it prove But as long-liv'd as present Love Sung by Mrs. Knight to Her Majesty on Her Birth-day THis happy day two Lights are seen A Glorious Saint a Matchless Queen Both nam'd alike both Crown'd appear The Saint above th' Infanta here May all those years which Catherine The Martyr did for Heav'n resign Be added to the Line Of Your blest Life amongst us here For all the pains that She did feel And all the Torments of Her Wheel May You as many Pleasures share May Heaven it self content With Catherine the Saint Without appearing old An hundred times may You With Eyes as bright as now This welcome Day behold To his Worthy Friend Sir Thomas Higgons upon his Translation of the Venetian Triumph THE winged Lion's not so fierce in â—ight As Liber's hand presents him to our Sight Nor would his Pencil make him half so fierce Or roar so loud as Businello's Verse But your Translation does all three excell The Fight the Piece and lofty Businel As their small Gallies may not hold compare With our tall Ships whose Sails employ more Air So does th' Italian to your Genius vaile Mov'd with a fuller and a nobler Gale Thus while your Muse spreads the Venetian story You make all Europe emulate her Glory You make them blush weak Venice should defenâ— The cause of Heaven while they for words contend Shed Christian Blood and populous Cities raze Because the'yre taught to use some different Phraze 〈◊〉 list'ning to your Charms we could our Jars Compose and on the Turk discharge these Wars Our British Arms the sacred Tomb might wrest From Pagan hands and Triumph o're the 〈◊〉 And then you might our own high Deeds recite And with great Tasso celebrate the Fight Epitaph HEre lies Charles Candish let the Marble Stone That hides his Ashes make his Virtue known â—eauty and Valor did his short Life grace â—he Grief and Glory of his Noble Race â—arly abroad he did the World survey â—s if He knew he had not long to stay Saw what Great Alexâ—nder in the East And mighty Julius conquer'd in the West Then with a Mind as great as theirs he came To find at home occasion for his Fame Where dark Confusion did the Nations hide And where the Juster was the weâ—ker side Two Loyal Brothers took their Sovereign's part Imploy'd their Wealth their Courage and their Art The Elder did whole Regiments afford The Younger brought his Conduct and his Sword Born to Command a Leader he begon And on the Rebels lasting Honour won The Horse instructed by their General 's worth Still made the King victories in the North Where Candish fought the Royalists prevail'd Neither his Courage nor his Judgment fail'd The Current of his Victories found no stop Till Cromwel came his Parties chiefest prop Equal success had set these Champions high And both resolved to Conquer or to Die Vertue with Rage Fury with Valor â—â—rove But that must fall which is decreed Above Cromwel with odds of Number and of Fate Remov'd this Bulwark of the Church and State Which the sad Issue of the War declar'd And made his Task to ruine both less hard So when the Bank neglected is o'rethrown The boundles Torrent doth the Countrey drown Thus fell the Young the Lovely and the Brave Strow Bays and Flowera on his honoured Grave Of Her Royal Highness Mother to the Prince of Orange and of Her Portraict written by the late Dutchess of York while She lived with Her HEroick Nymph in Tempests the Support In Peace the Glory of the British Court Into whose Arms the Church the State and all That precious is or Sacred here did fall Ages to come that shall your Bounty hear Will think you Mistriss of the Indies were Thô streighter Bounds your Fortune did consine In your large Heart was found a wealthy Mine Like the bles't Oil the Widow's lasting Feast Your Treasure as you pour'd it out increas't While some your Beauty some your Bounty sing Your native Isle do's with your Praises ring But above all a Nymph of your own Train Gives us your Character in such a strain As none but She who in that Court did dwell Could know such Worth or Worth describe so well So while we Mortals here at Heav'n do guess And more our Weakness than the Place express Some Angel a Domestick there comes down And tells the Wonders he hath seen and known To the Dutchess of Orleans when She was taking Leave of the Court at Dover THat Sun of Beauty did among us rise England first saw the Light of your fair Eyes In English too your early Wit was shown Favour that Language which was then your own When though a Child through Guards you made your way What Fleet or Army could an Angel stay Thrice happy Britain If she could retain Whom she first bred within her ambient Main Our late-burnt London in Apparel new Shook off her Ashes to have treated you But we must see our Glory snatcht away And with warm Tears increase the guilty Seâ— No Wind can favour us how e're it blows We must be wreckt and our dear Treasure lose Sighs will not let us half our Sorrows tell Fair Lovely Great and best of Nymphs Farewell Written on a Card that Her Majesty tore at Ombra THE Cards you â—are in Value rise So do the Wounded by your Eyes Who to Celestial things aspire Are by that Passion rais'd the higher To the Dutchess when he presented this Book to Her Royal Highness Madam I Here present you with the Rage And with the Beauties of a former Age Wishing you may with as great Pleasure view This as we take in Gazing upon you Thus we writ then your brighter Eyes inspire Anobler Flame and raise our â—â—nius higher While we your Wit and early Knowledge fear To our Productions we become severe Your matchless Beauty gives our Fancy