Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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A63114
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Poems written on several occasions by N. Tate.; Poems. Selections
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Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.
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1684
(1684)
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Wing T211; ESTC R11038
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57,899
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242
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is come Yet Heav'n bear Witness what I bore How far remov'd from Happiness before Among the Sons of Sorrow I was Chief But former Woes were Pleasure to this Grief Then urge me Friends with vain Advice no more Despairing and defying all Relief The Charnell-House THis Treasury of Death Survey Where Poor and Rich like Tribute pay See what Acquaintance thou canst spy Amongst those Skulls I prethee try Man of Science prethee show Thy darling Friend or deadly Foe Mankind by thee alive are read And know'st thou nothing of the Dead To the Memory of Sir Richard Raynsford Lord Chief Justice Qui Consulta Patrum qui Leges Juraque servat Quo magnae multaeque secantur Judice lites Hor. WHen Princes have to Fate resign'd their Sway And a low Grave receiv'd the Royal Clay Then ev'n a Second Death they seem to have More bury'd in Oblivion than the Grave The Charm of some diviner Poet's Flame From Darkness has redeem'd their sully'd Name And sixt 'em shining in the Roll of Fame Not thus Learn'd Raynsford do we write of thee As we could add to thy bright Memory For while thy wondrous Vertues we rehearse We praise not thee but thou adorn'st our Verse The Muses from their barren Mountains come To stock themselves with Lawrel at thy Tomb Which like a sacred Shrine they sind prepar'd Where Fame and Honour keep eternal Ward Ev'n I the meanest of the Tribe inspir'd Yet with th' Ambition of the proudest fir'd Design'd some Work that should immortal be Took the true Path and chose to write of thee Before the Thirst of Wealth and Pow'r began When Man rul'd Brutes and not his Brother Man E'er Laws were form'd for who could wrong pretend When th'Infant-world yet knew not to offend The Angels of Mankind hae little Odds Earth seem'd a Heav'n and Men a Race of Gods That Mortals once could such Perfection own In Raynsford's equal Piety was shown Who in an Age most vitious and accurst Did prastise all the Vertues of the first Sill with a peaceful Air his Count'nance shin'd The Emblem of his more pacifick Mind That never did the least Contest maintain But of the Graces striving which should reign Ev'n Nature too her signal Care exprest Brought all her rightest Gifts t' adorn his Breast She gave and gave till she could give no more Yet still his Industry encreas'd the store Beside th' Endowments Bounteous Heav'n inspir'd All Ornament of Science he acquir'd The Truth from specious Falshood could divide Had all the Gown-mens Skill without their Pride He knew whate'er the ablest Doctors know Yet scorn'd not the most Ignorant and Low Weakness in others never did despise Yet was himself the wonder of the Wise And tho no Conquest is so hard to gain As when stiff Disputants Tongue-wars maintain Yet when he reason'd Sophistry stood mute and 't was a Lecture rather than Dispute Historians from his clearer Sight supply'd Their darker Books they ours and he their Guide Remotest Ages he kept still in view To present Causes past Examples drew And all things but his own Perfections knew But most regard to Truths Divine he bore Where both his Faith and Skill so high did soar Few Churchmen knew so much none practic'd more The Law that did a boundless Ocean seem Was coasted all and fathom'd all by him A dadg'rous Sea till he like Neptune rose The wrangling Winds and Waters to compose Then banish'd Justice did to th' Courts repair And seem'd enthron'd while Raynsford fill'd the Chair Large Fees made then the Cause no heavier weigh The Widows smil'd and Orphans blest the Day Math awful Meen he judged not austere Ev'n those he sentenc'd thought him not severe For still he pity'd where he could not spare With such a mildness fate the Hebrew Guide The trav'ling Nations Causes to decide While Angels from above admir'd to see On Earth such Wisdom and Integrity But that bright Oracle at last expir'd And ours too great a Bliss to last retir'd Prhoris From the Metamorph. of Ovid. Lib. 7 Phocus in in terius spatium pulchrosque recessus Cecropidas ducit c. TO th' inmost Cours the Grecian Youths were led And plac'd by Phocus on a Tyrian Bed Who streight observ'd Aeolides to hold A Dart of unknown Wood but arm'd with Gold None better loves said he the Hunts-man's Sport Or does more often to the Woods resort Yet I that Jav'lins stem with wonder view Too smooth for Box too smooth a Grain for Yew I cannot guess the Tree but never Art Did form or Eyes behold so fair a Dart The Guest then interrupts him 't wou'd produce Sill greater wonder if you knew the Use It never fails to strike the Game and then Comes bloody back into your hand agen Then Phocus each particular desires And th' Author of the wondrous Gift enquires To which the Owner thus with weeping Eyes And Sorrow for his Wife 's sad Fate replies This Weapon here O Prince can you believe This Dart the Cause for which so much I grieve And shall continue to grieve on till Fate Afford such wretched Life yet longer Date Would I this fatal Gift had ne'er enjoy'd This fatal Gift my tender Wife destroy'd Procris her Name ally'd in Charms and Blood To fair Orythia courted by a God Her Father seal'd my Hopes with Rites Divine But firmer Love before had made her mine Men call'd me blest and blest I was indeed The second Month our Nuptials did succeed When as upon Hymettus dewy Head For Mountain-Stags my Net betimes I spread Aurora spy'd and ravisht me away With Rev'rence to the Goddess I must say Against my will for Procris had my Heart Nor would her Image from my Thoughts depart At last in Rage she cry'd Ingrateful Boy Go to your Procris take your fatal Joy And so dismist me Muling as I went What those Expressions of the Goddess meant A Thousand jealous Fears posess me now Least Procris had profan'd her Nuptial Vow Her Youth and Charms did to my Fancy Paint A lowd Adultress but her Life a Saint Yet I was absent long the Goddess too Taught me how far a Woman cou'd be true Aurora's Treatment much Suspition bred Besides who truly Love ev'n shaddows dread I straight Impatient for the Tryal grew What Courship backt with riched Gifts could do Aurora's Envy aided my Design And lent me Features far unlike to mine In this Disguise to my own House I came But all was chast no conscious sign of Blame With thousaud Arts I scarce Admittance found And then beheld her weeping on the Ground For her lost Husband hardly I retain'd My purpose scarce the wisht Embrace reftaind How charming was her Grief Then Phocus guess What killing Beauties waited on her Dress Her constant Answer when my suit prest Forbear my Lords dear Image guards this Brest Wherere he is whatever cause detains Who ere has his my Heart unmov'd remains What greater Proofs of Truth than these cou'd be Yet I
Conqu'ring Str rd is with Myrtle â—rown'd And Drury-lane all loyal Wh es resound Hor. Ode 5th lib. 3. Quis multâ gracilis te Puer in Rosâ SAy perjur'd Maid What tender Youth with Perfumes on his Head And Roses for his Bed Alike by Nature's Sweets and thine betray'd What unexperienc'd Youth does now employ Sighs Tears and Oaths to reap the fatal Joy To what new Lover do'st thou now unfold Those Amber Locks For thy Undress can charm Thy loose dishevell'd Tresses warm Beyond the Glances shot from Gemms and Gold Ah! thoughtless Wretch how oft shall he in vain Curse perjur'd Faith and to the Gods complain Those Gods by whom the fair Deceiver swore When he shall hear the Tempest fall The Billows waking at the Thunder's Call Who ne'er saw Wave nor heard a Storm before How oft shall he bewail his Error past Who thought the smiling Calm wou'd always last That he alone and always he Of Phillis Heart shall owner be And fix of Woman's Love th' inconstant Sea So curst are all that see thy Smiles And view thy Beauty e'er they know thy Wiles Thrice wretched they for whom remains this Fate But me Experience dear and late Has with a strange Escape sent back Resolv'd for Sea no more And hanging on the Rocks of this false Shore That none hereafter the like Error make My Garments drencht and dropping with the Wreck To the Translator of Father Simon 's Critical History AS Esdras once did into Order draw And to the new-freed Tribes revive the Law So you from Chains of Darkness which they wore The Captive Oracles again restore Hail Inspir'd Father who couldst force thy way Through Night's dark Empire to the Realm of Day Your self creates the Sun that gives you Light And forms the History by which you write One Age dissolves such force your Judgment bears The settled Cloud of many thousand Years This works first Fame was thine who did create The second his that could so well translate From whose joyn'd Beams a perfect Light we draw The Vrim and the Thummim of the Law The Charge SONG I. TEll my Strephon that I die Let Ecchoes to each other tell Till the mournful Accent fly To Strephon's Ear and all is well II. But gently break the fatal Truth Sweeten ev'ry sadder Sound For Strephon's such a tender Youth The gentlest Words too deep will wound III. The gentlest Words will wound too deep The dear relenting Swain Then let my Griefs in Silence sleep And never more complain IV. Fountains Ecchoes all be dumb For should I cost my Swain a Tear I shall repent me in the Tomb And grieve to buy my Rest so dear PROLOGUE To the Enchanted Lovers YOu 've met us in defiance of the Weather How has our Magick conjur'd you together The Play is new there doubtless lay the Charm That drew to our forsaken Hive this Swarm What more to sooth your Humor cou'd we do Than when the Play is new an d Poet too He though an early Trespasser in Rhime Ne'er climb'd the Stage before and judg'd this time For his Adventure safest when the Road Was clear the Pirate Wits disperst abroad He hop'd while you toth ' Country were withdrawn T' have found an easie Jury of the Town But is surpriz'd to see an awful Pit Met to arrraign him by the Laws of Wit Laws ne'er perform'd by mortal Writer yet Witches and Spells the former Age believ'd And as authentick on the Stage receiv'd Our Poet fears they 'll hardly pass with you Who no charms but in Beauty will allow Yet since such Lovers Knaves and Fools have been Shewn on the Stage as elsewhere ne'er were seen Why shou'd his Haggs fore't Characters appear Cause your nice Reason doubts if Witches are He with a trembling Hand their jargons wrote The Entertainment of his Mid-night Thought Mean while his Fancy like a tender Bride With th'Exercise lay pleas'd and terrify'd With Ease his Belldam's Tempests raise and lay But could contrive no Spell to save the Play EPILOGUE WHat no Attendance in this World make way Where are our noisy empty Hectors they That hear no Scene and yet damn all the Play Run down by Masque to their old shift they flee And rail at us for want of Repartee Well Gentlemen howe'er you doom too Night Methinks this Company 's a blessed Sight And shews the Realms Disorder coming Right With us as with the Publick it does pass The Theatre's the Nations Weather-Glass Where like the Quick-silver our Audience still As the State goes is found to ebb or sill Shall I inform you one thing Gallants We In our Vocation with the Saints agree For as their Holders-forth their Flock enchant So we our Audience Charm with Noise and Rant 'T is thus we please and I dare take my Oath That Decency and Sence would break us both EPILOGUE NOw we expect to hear our raw Blades say Dam me I see no Sence in this dull Play Tho much of it our abler Judges know Was famous Sense 'bove forty Years ago Sometimes we fail to please for want of Wit I' th' Play but most for want of 't in the Pit For many ruin'd Poet's Work 't would save Had you but half the Sense you think you have Poets on you Fore-fathers shamm'd dull Plays And shrewdly you revenge it in our Days In troth we fare by 't as your Tradesmen do For while they raise Estates by cheating you Into Acquaintance with their Wives you fall And get 'em graceless Sons to spend it all 'T is plain they 'r your's ' cause all our Arts miscarry For just like you they 'll damn before they 'll marry Of honest Terms I now almost despair Unless retriev'd by some rich Yeoman's Heir In Grannam's Ribons and his own straight Hair What Comforts such a Lover would afford Joynture dear Joynture Oh the Heav'nly Word But e'er of you my Sparks my Leave I take For your Unkindness past these Prayers I make So very constant may your Misses be Till you grow cloy'd for want of Jealousie Into such Dullness may your Poets tire Till they shall write such Plays as you admire May you instead of Whoring Gaming Drinking Be damn'd to your Aversion Books and thinking And for a last wish what I 'm sure you 'll call The Curse of Curses Marriage take ye all The PROLOGUE To the History of King Lear reviv'd with Alterations SInce by Mistakes your best Delights are made For your own Wives can please in Masquerade 'T were worth our while t' have drawn you in to day By a new Name to our old honest Play But he that did this Ev'ning Treat prepare Resolv'd before-hand frankly to declare Your Entertainment should be most Old Fare Yet hopes since in rich Shakespear's Soil it grew 'T will relish still with Palats that are true And his Ambition is to please a few If then this Heap of Flowers shall chance to wear Fresh Beauty in the Order they now bear Ev'n this is