cancell'd my fond Will Tempted my faith to my Physitians skill To purchase health sung prayses in his Eare More than the Living of the Dead would heare For though our gifts buy care nought justly payes Physitians love but faith their art but prayse Which I observ'd now walke as I should see A death of all things save thy memorie But if this early Vintage shall create New wishes in my blood to celebrate Thee Endimion and thy Muse thy large heart Thy wisdome that hath taught the world an art How not enform'd by Cunning courtship may Subdue the minde and not the Man betray If mee thy Priest our curled Youth assigne To wash our Fleet-street Altars with new Wine I will since 't is to thee a Sacrifice Take care that plenty swell not into vice Lest by a fiery surfeâ— I be led Once more to grow devout in a strange bed Lest through kind weaknesse in decay of health Or vanity to shew my utmost wealth I should againe bequeath thee when I die To haughtie Poets as a Legacie TO THE QVEENE entertain'd at night by the Countesse of Anglesey FAire as unshaded Light or as the Day In its first birth when all the Yeare was May Sweet as the Altars smoake or as the new Unfolded Bud swell'd by the early Dew Smooth as the face of Waters first appear'd Ere Tides began to strive or Winds were heard Kind as the willing Saints and calmer farre Than in their sleepes forgiven Hermits are You that are more than our discreeter feare Dares praise with such dull Art what make you here Here where the Sommer is so little seene That Leaves her cheapest wealth scarce reach at greene You come as if the silver Planet were Misled a while from her much injur'd Spheare And t' ease the travailes of her beames to night In this small Lanthorn would contract her light In remembrance of Master William Shakespeare ODE 1 BEware delighted Poets when you sing To welcome Nature in the early Spring Your num'rous Feet not tread The Banks of Avon for each Flowre As it nere knew a Sunne or Showre Hangs there the pensive head 2 Each Tree whose thick and spreading growth hath made Rather a Night beneath the Boughs than Shade Unwilling now to grow Lookes like the Plume a Captive weares Whose rifled Falls are steept i' th reares Which from his last rage flow 3 The piteous River wept it selfe away Long since Alas to such a swift decay That reach the Map and looke If you a River there can spie And for a River your mock'd Eie Will finde a shallow Brooke To the Lady Bridget Kingsmill sent with Mellons after a report of my Death MAdam that Ghosts have walk'd and kindly did Convey Men heretofore to mony hid That they weare Chaines which rattle 'till they make More noise than injur'd Ale-wives at a Wake All this is free to faith but Sozomine Nor th' Abbot Tretenheim nor Rhâ—digine Nor the â—ew Tripâ—o though they all defend Such dreames can urge one Ghost that Verses pend Therefore be pleas'd to thinke when these are read I am no Ghost nor have beene three weekes dead Yet Poets that so nobly vaine have beene To want so carelesly till want prove sinne Through avarice of late toth ' Arches sent To know the chiefe within my Testament And th' Aldermen by Charter title lay ' Cause writ 'i th City's Virge to my new Play So if the Proclamations kinde nice care Keepe you not Madam from our black raw Aire Next Terme you 'll finde it own'd thus on each Wall Writ by the Lord May'r acted at Guild-Hall But then I must be dead which if you will In curteous pitty feare and suspect still These Mellons shall approach your pensive Eye Not as a Token but a Legacie Would they were such as could have reach'd the sense To know what use they had of excellence Since destin'd to be yours such as would be Now yours justly ambitious of a Tree To grow upon scorne a dejected birth Course German Tiles low Stalks that lace the Earth Such as since gladly yours got skill and pow'r To choose the strongest Sunne and weakest Showre Such as in Groves Cecilian Lovers eat To coole those wishes that their Ladies heat But if the Gard'ner make like Adam all Our human hopes bold and apocryphall And that my Mellons prove no better than Those lovely Pompe'ons which in Barbican Fencers and Vaulters Widowes please to eat Not as a Sallad but cheap-filling-meat Thinke then I 'm dead indeed and that they were Early bequeath'd but pay'd too late i' th Yeare So the just scornes of your lov'd wit no more Can hazard mee but my Executor To the King on New-yeares day 1630. ODE 1 THe joyes of eager Youth of Wine and Wealth Of Faith untroubled and unphysick'd Health Of Lovers when their Nuptials nie Of Saints forgiven when they die Let this yeare bring To Charles our King To Charles who is th' example and the Law By whom the good are taught not kept in awe 2 Long proffer'd Peace and that not compass'd by Expensive Treaties but a Victorie And Victories by Fame obtain'd Or pray'r and not by slaughter gain'd Let this yeare bring To Charles our King To Charles who is th' example and the Law By whom the good are taught not kept in awe 3 A Session too of such who can obey As they were gather'd to consult not sway Who not rebell in hope to git Some office to reclaime their wit Let this yeare bring To Charles our King To Charles who is th' example and the law By whom the good are taught not kept in awe 4 Prators who will the publique cause defend With timely gifts not Speeches finely pend So make the Northerne Victors Fame No more our envy nor our shame Let this yeare bring To Charles our King To Charles who is th' example and the law By whom the good are taught not kept in awe TO THE QVEENE presented with a suit in the behalfe of F. S. directed From Orpheus Prince of Poets To the Queene of Light In favour of a young listner to his Harpe I Sing these Numbers in the shady Land Where Ayrie Princes dwell which I command Some Spirit or some Winde gently convey To you whose breath is Spring whose Eie-beames Day ' Gainst your arrivall here which must be late Such pow'r the pray'rs of Mortalls have with Fate Fields I have dress'd so rich in scent and show As if your influence taught our Flow'rs to grow Where still delighted you shall nobly move Not like a sad Shadow as they above With learned falshood most unkindly dreame Of ev'ry Ghost but like a beautious Beame The Lilly and the Rose which Lovers seeke Not on their stalks but on their Ladies Cheeke Shall here not dare take root nor yet the strange And various Tulip which so oft doth change Her am'rous Colours to a diff'rent hew That yearly Men beleeve the Species New In stead of these on ev'ry
this aspiring flame First kindled as a light to shew thy fame Consumes so fast and is mis-spent so long Ere my chiefe Vision is become my Song Thy selfe I saw quite tir'd with victorie As weary growne to kill as they to die Whilst some at last thy mercy did enjoy ' Cause t' was lesse paines to pardon than destroy And thy compassion did thy Army please In meere beleefe it gave thy Valour ease Here in a calme began thy regall sway Which with such cheerefull hearts all did obey As if no Law were juster than thy word Thy Scepter still were safe without a Sword And here Chronologers pronounce thy stile The first true Monarch of the Golden Isle An Isle so seated for predominance Where Navall strength its power can so advance That it may tribute take of what the East Shall ever send in traffique to the West He that from cursed Mahomet derives His sinfull blood the Sophy too that strives To prove he keepes that very Chaire in 's Throne The Macedonian Youth last sate upon And hee whose wilder pride makes him abhor All but the Sunne for his Progenitor Whose Mother sure was ravish'd in a dreame By somes o're hot lascivious Noone-day-beame From whence he cals himselfe The wealth of sight The Morn's Executor the Heire of Light And he that thinks his rule extends so farre He hopes the former Three his Vassailes are Compar'd to him in Warre hee rates them lesse Than Corporals than Constables in peace And hopes the mighty Presbiter stands bare Inâ—rev'rence of his name and will not dare To weare though sick his purple Turband on Within a hundred Leagues of his bright Throne These Mortall Gods for traffique still disperse Their envy'd wealth throughout the universe In Caracks built so wide that they want roome In narrow Seas or in a Iunck whose wombe So swels as could our wonder be so mad To thinke that Boats or Ships their sexes had Who them beheld would simply say sure these Are neere their time and big with Pinnaces Yet though so large and populous they all Must tribute pay unto thy Admirall Now Wealth the cause and the reward of War Is greedily explor'd some busie are In virgin Mines where shining gold they spie That darkens the Celestiall Chymicks eye I wish'd my Soule had brought my body here Not as a Poet but a Pioner Some neere the deepest shore are sent to dive Whilst with their long retentive breath they strive To root up Corall Trees where Mermaids lie Sighing beneath those Precious boughs and die For absence of their scaly Lovers lost In midnight stormes about the Indian coast Some finde old Oysters that lay gapeing there For ev'ry new fresh flood a hundred yeare From these they rifle Pearles whose pond'rous size Sinks weaker Divors when they strive to rise So big on Carckonets were never scene But where some well truss'd Giantesse is Queene For though th' are Orient and design'd to deck Their weight would yoke a tender Ladies Neck Some climbe and search the Rocks till each have found A Saphyr Ruby and a Diamond That which the Sultan's glistrings Bride doth weare To these would but a Glowormes eie appeare The Tuscan Duk 's compar'd shewes sick and dark These living Starres and his a dying spark And now I saw what urg'd my wonder more Black Suds of Ambar-Greece float to the shore Whilst rude'dull Mariners who hardly can Distinguish Buffe or Hides from Cordovan Since gloves they never weare this Oyntment use Not to perfume but supple their parch'd Shooes Now others hasten to the woods and there Such fruits for taste and odor ev'ry where Are seene that the Merabolan by some Is slighted as a course sowre winter-Plumme Then new temptations make them all in love With wand'ring till invited to a Grove They strait those silken litle Weavers spie That worke so fast on leaves of Mulberie The Persian worme whose weary sommer toyles So long hath beene the rusling Courtiers spoyles Compar'd to these lives ever lazily And for neat spinning is a bungling Flie Such hopes of wealth discern'd t is hard to say How gladly reason did my faith obey As if that miracle would now appeare Which turnes a Poet to an Usurer But reason soone will with our faith conspire To make that easie which wee much desire Nor Prince will I despaire though all is thine That Pioners now dig from ev'ry Mine Though all for which on slipp'ry Rocks they strive Or gather when in Seas they breathlesse dive Though Poets such unlucky Prophets are As still foretell more blessings than they share Yet when thy noble choyce appear'd that by Their Combat first prepar'd thy victorie Endimion and Arigo who delight In Numbers and make strong my Muses flight These when I saw my hopes could not abstaine To think it likely I might twirle a Chaine On a judiciall Bench learne to demurre And sleepe out trials in a gowne of Furre Then reconcile the rich for Gold-fring'd-gloves The poore for God-sake or for Sugar-loaves When I perceiav'd that cares on wealth rely That I was destin'd for authoritie And early Gowts my Soule in a strange fright From this rich Isle began her hasty flight And to my halfe dead Body did returne Which new inspir'd rose cheerefull as the Morne Heroique Prince may still thy acts and name Become the wonder and discourse of Fame May ev'ry Laurell ev'ry Mirtle bough Be strip'd for Wreaths t' adorne and load thy brow Triumphant Wreaths which cause they never fade Wise elder times for Kings and Poets made And I deserve a little sprig of Bay To weare in Greece on Homers Holy-day Since I assume when I thy Battailes write That very flame which warm'd thee in the fight FINIS Elizium To the Duchesse of BVCKINGHAM MADAM SO sleeps the Anchoret on his cheap bed whose sleep wants only length to prove him dead As I last night whom the swift wings of Thought Convey'd to see what our bold faith had taught Elizium where restored formes nere fade Where growth can need no seeds nor light a shade The joyes which in our flesh through fraile expence Of strentgh through age were lost t' our injur'd sense Wee there doe meet agen and those we taste Anew which though devour'd yet ever last The scatter'd treasure of the Spring blowne by Autumn's rude winds from our discoverie Lillies and Roses all that 's faire and sweet There reconcil'd to their first roots we meet There only those triumphant Lovers reigne Whose passions knew on earth so little staine Like Angels they nere felt what sexes meant Virtue was first their nature then intent There toyling Victors safely are possest With servent youth eternitie and rest But they were such who when they got the field To teach the conquer'd victorie could yeeld Themselves againe as if true glorie were To bring the foe to courage not to feare There are no talking Greeks who their blood lost Not for the cause but for a theame to boast As if
they strove enough for Fame that sought To have their Batailes better told than fought There I a Vestal's Shadow first did spy Who when a live with holy huswifry Trick'd up in lawne and flow'ry Wreaths each hand Cleane as her thoughts did'fore the Altar stand So busie still strewing her Spice and then Removing Coales vexing the Fire agen As if some queasie Goddesse had profess'd To taste no smoak that day but what she dress'd This holy coyle she living kept but farre More busie now with more delightfull care Than when she watch'd the consecrated Flame Sh'attends the Shade of gentle Buckingham Who there unenvi'd sits with Chaplets crownd And with wise scorne smiles on the Peoples wound He call'd it so for though it touch'd his heart His Nation feeles the rancour and the smart TO The Lord D. L. upon his Mariage WEe that are Orpheus Sons and can inherit By that great title nought but 's num'rous spirit His broaken Harpe and when w' are tir'd with moane A few small Trees of Bay to hang it on Wee that successively can claime no more From such a poore unlucky Ancestor Must now my noble Lord take thrifty care To know what moderne wealth the Muses share Or how it is dispos'd and strait wee finde Great pow'rfall Love hath bount'ously resign'd Into your happy Armes the chiefe and best Of all that our ambitious hopes possest Your noble Bride to whose eternall Eies Wee daily offer'd Wreaths in Sacrifice Whose warmth gave Laurell growth whose ev'ry beame Was first our influence and then our theame Whose brest too narrow for her heart was still Her reasons Throne and prison to her will And since this is your willing faith t is fit What all the kinde and wiser Starres commit Unto your charge be with such eager love And soft indeerements us'd as well may prove They meant when first they taught you how to wooâ— She should be happy and the Muses too Live still the pleasure of each others sight To each a new made wonder and delight Though two yet both so much one constant minde That t' will be art and mystery to finde Your thoughts and wishes being still the same From which of eithers loving heart they came A Journey into Worcestershire THree who if kinder Destinies shall please May all dye rich though they love Wit and ease And I whom some odde hum'rous Planet bid To register the doughty acts they did Tooke horse leaving i th' Town ill Playes sowre Wine Fierce Serjeants and the plague besides of mine An Ethnick Taylor too that was farre worse Than these or what just Heaven did ever curse Scarce was the busie Citie left behind But from the South arose a busier Winde Which sent us so much raine each man did wish His hands and leggs were Finnes his Horse a Fish Dull as a thick-skull'd Iustice drunke with Sloth Or Alderman farre gone in Capon Broth Wee all appear'd no man gave breath to thought But like to silent Traytors in a Vault Digg'd on our way or as wee Traytors were T' our selves and jealous of each others Eare And as i' th Worlds great Showre some that did spie Hors'd on the Plaines Rivers and Seas draw nigh Spurr'd on apace in feare all lost their time That could not reach a ground where they might climbe So wee did never thinke us safe untill Wee had attain'd the Top o' th first high Hill And now it cleer'd so to my travail'd Eie Lookes a round yellow Dane when he doth spie Neere to his puissant Arme a Bowle so full That it may fill his Bladder and his Skull As Phebus at this moysture falne who laught To see such plenty for his mornings draught But like Chamelions Colours that decay But seemingly to give new colours way So our false griefs had not themselves outworne But step'd aside to vary in returne Beare witnesse World for now my tir'd Horse stood As I a Vaulter were and himselfe Wood As if some Student fierce the day before Had spurr'd his full halfe Crowne from him and more Endimion cryes away What make wee here To draw a Map or gather Juniper More cruell than Shrove-Prentices when they Drunk in a Brothell House are bid to pay Or than the Bawd at Sessions to that vilde Indicted Rout which first her house until'de Is now the Captaine who laughing swore thus Each puny Poet rides his Pegasus But what 's the cause my Lord spurs on amaine As if t'outride a Tartar not the Raine Some such swift Tartar as might safely say To an inviting friend that tempts his stay Farwell thou seest the Sunne declin'd long since And I 'm to sup a Hundred miles from hence My Lord me thought as he had heard this same Rod post to eat that supper ere he came And now my Mule moves too but with such speed As Pris'ners to a Psalme that cannot read Yet wee reach'd Wickham with the early Night Which to describe to Eares or draw to Sight For scituation or for forme for heighth For strength or magnitude would in good faith But stale the price o' th Map small credit be T' our Poem lesse to our Geographie Or as your riding Academicks use To toyle and vex a long fed mutton-Muse With taking the circumference of mine Host Or his Wives sumitrie were time worse lost Since nor Taurentius nor Van-dike have yet Command to draw them for the King in great He that to night rul'd each delighted breast Gave to the pallat of each Eare a feast With joy of pledges made our sowre wine sweet And nimble as the leaping juice of Creet Was the brave Endimion whose triumphs cleere From cruell tyranny or too nice feare Having wit still ready and no huge sinne To cause a sadnesse that might keepe it in Let flye at all the Shafts were keene and when They miss'd to pierce he strongly drew agen But Sleep whom Constables obey though they Have twenty Bills to keepe him off till day Sleepe whom th' high tun'd Cloth-worker Weaver tall Nor Cobler shrill with Catches or his Aule Knowes to resist seal'd up our lips and sight Making us blind and silent as the Night Our other Sallies and th'adventures wee Achiev'd deserve new braine new Historie To Endimion Porter I Gave when last I was about to die The Poets of this Isle a Legacie Each so much wealth as a long union brings T'industrious States or Victorie to Kings So much as Hope 's clos'd Eies could wish to see Or tall Ambition reach I gave them thee But as rich Men who in their sicknesse mourne That they must goe and never more returne To be glad Heires unto themselves to take Againe what they unwillingly forsake As these bequeath their treasure when they dye Not out of love but sad necessitie So I they thought did cunningly resigne Rather than give what could no more be mine And they receiv'd thee not from bounteous Chance Or mee but as their owne inheritance This when I heard I
Too strict to flesh and blood I might infuse A Schisme in your Religion and my Muse Yet this would be excus'd since all wee gaine By griefe is but the licence to complaine TO THE QVEENE upon a New-yeares day YOu of the Guard make way and you that keepe The Presence warme and quiet whilst you sleep Permit me passe and then if any where Imploy'd you Angels that are busi'st here And are the strongest Guard although unseene Conduct me neere the Chamber of the Queene Where with such reverence as Hermits use At richest Shrines I may present my Muse Awake salute and satisfie thy sight Not with the fainting Sun's but thine owne Light Let this Day breake from thine owne Silken spheare This Day the birth and Infant of the yeare Nor is there need of Purple or of Lawne To vest thee in were but thy Curtaines drawne Men might securely say that it is morne Thy Garments serve to hide not to adorne Now she appeares whilst ev'ry looke and smile Dispences warmth and beauty through our Isle Whilst from their wealthiest Caskets Princes pay Her gifts as the glad tribute of this Day This Day which Time shall owe to her not Fate Because her early Eies did it create But O! poore Poets Where are you why bring You not your Goddesse now an Offering Who makes your Numbers Swift when they mov'd slow And when they ebb'd her influence made them flow Alas I know your wealth The Laurell bough Wreath'd into Circles to adorne the Brow Is all you have But goe these strew and spread In sacrifice where ever shee shall tread And ere this day grow old know you shall see Each Leafe become a Sprig each Sprig a Tree Elegie On Francis Earle of RUTLAND CAll not the Winds nor bid the Rivers stay For though the sighs the teares they could repay Which injur'd Lovers Mourners for the Dead Captives and Saints have breath'd away and shed Yet wee should want to make our sorrow fit For such a cause as now doth silence it Rutland the noble and the just whose name Already is all History all Fame Whom like brave Ancestors in Battaile lost Wee mention not in pitty but in boast How did'st thoâ— smile to see the solemne sport Which vexes busie greatnesse in the Court T' observe their lawes of faction place and Time Their precepts how and where and when to climbe Their rules to know if the sage meaning lies In the deepe Breast i' th shallow Brow or Eyes Though Titles and thy blood made thee appeare Oft'gainst thy ease where these state-Rabbins were Yet their philosophie thou knew'st was fit For thee to pitty more than study it Safely thou valu'dst Cunning as ' thad bin Wisdome long since distemper'd into Sin And knew'st the actions of th' Ambitious are But as the fal'se Al'armes in running warre Like forlorne Scowts that raise the coyle they keepe Themselves awake to hinder others sleepe And all they gaine by vex'd expence of breath Unquietnesse and guilt is at their death Wonder and mighty noyse whilst things that be Most deare and pretious to Mortalitie Time and thy Selfe impatient here of stay With a grave silence seeme to steale away Depart from us unheard and wee still mourne In vaine though piously for their returne Thy Bounties if I name I 'le not admit Kings when they love or wooe to equall â—â— It shew'd like Nature's selfe when she doth bring All she can promise by an early Spring Or when she payes that promise where she best Makes Summers for Mankind in the rich East And as the wise Sunne silently imployes His lib'rall Beames and ripens without Noyse As precious Dewes doe undiscover'd fall And growth insensibly doth steale on all So what he gave conceal'd in private came As in the dark from one that had no name Like Fayries wealth not given to restore Or if reveal'd it visited no more If these live and be read as who shall dare Suspect Truth and thy Fame immortall are What need thy noble Brother or faire She That is thy selfe in purest imagrie Whose breath and Eyes the â—un'rall-spice and flame Continue still of gentle Buckingham What need they send poore Pioners to grone In lower Quarries for Corinthian stone To dig in Parian Hills since Statues must And Monuments turne like our selves to dust Verse to all ages can our deeds declare Tombs but a while shew where our Bodies are To Endimion Porter WOuld thou wert dead so strictly dead to me That nor my sight nor my vex'd memorie Could reach thee more so dead that but to name Thou wert might give the sawcie lie to Fame That the bold Sonnes of Honour and the milde Race of Lovers both thy disciples stil'd Might aske who could the first example bee To all their good yet none should mention thee Knocking at my Brest when this hou'r is come I hope I once shall finde my heart at home Say thou art dead yet whisper 't but to me For should thy so well-spent mortalitie End to the world and that sad end be knowne I might perhaps still live but live alone The better world would follow thee and all That I should gaine by that large Funerall Would be the wanton vanitâ—e to boast What they enjoy was from my plenty lost To the Countesse of Carlile on the death of the Earle her Husband THis Cypresse folded here in steed of Lawne These Tapers winking and these Curtaines drawne What may they meane unlesse to qualifie And check the lusture of your Eyes you 'll trie To honour darknesse and adorne the Night So strive thus with your Lord to bury Light Call back your absent Beauties to your care Though clouded and conceal'd wee know you are The Morning's early'st Beame life of the Day The Ev'ns last comfort and her parting Ray But why these Teares that give him no reliefe For whom you waste the virtue of your griefe Such as might be prescrib'd the Earth to drinke For cure of her old Curse Teares you would thinke Too rich to water if you knew their price The chiefest Plant deriv'd from Paradise But O! where is a Poets faith how farre We are miss-led how false we Lords of Numbers are Our Love is passion our Religion rage Since to secure that mighty heritage Entail'd upon the Bay see how I strive To keepe the glory of your looks alive And to perswade your gloomy Sorrows thence As subt'ly knowing your kind influence Is all the pretious Stock left us t' inspire And feed the flame of our eternall fire But I recant 'T is fit you mourne a while And winke untill you darken all this Isle More fit the Bay should wither too and be Quite lost than he depriv'd your obsequie He that was once your Lord who strove to get That title cause nought else could make him great A stile by which his name he did preferre To have a day i' th Poets Kalender His youth was gentle and dispos'd to win Had so much courtship