Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A93554
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Somnium Cantabrigiense, or A poem vpon the death of the late King brought to London, by a post to the muses.
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Post to the Muses.
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1650
(1650)
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Wing S4670; Thomason E596_5; ESTC R206944
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6,003
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15
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SOMNIUM CANTABRIGIENSE OR A POEM Vpon the death of the late King brought to London By a Post to the Muses LONDON Printed by Matthew Simmons next doore to the Golden Lyon in Aldersgate Street 1649. To the famous Dreamer JOHN QVARLES Ordinarie Poet to CHARLES the SECOND GEntleman Poet come of Sire Who to the Muses was a Squire In Verse thou very Naturall And no way Artificiall John Quarles I the Muses post Implore thine aid who rul'st the roast Helpes the Kitchin Maids to Papers To cover it and set up Tapers Who least a Vacuum should bee Ballads forbid in Poetrie Hast in spight of Angrie Times Publish'd many dreaming Rhimes To assist with might and maine Me in such a dreaming Veine The Daughters of Mnemosyne Can help no more then they did thee a The 〈…〉 For hardlie either thou or I Could sleep so many Maids being by How should we dreame then and I feare Could wee 't would be of them were there Apollo is the God of Day And so assist me neither may Nor will for feare Diana might Sue Him for trespasse on her right And the Man is so unrulie In the Moone she cannot truly None better therefore than thy selfe Can I invoke Thou Rhimeing Elfe Come a Dreamer can infuse Vertue into a Sleeepie Muse Then if Thou hast any pittie Teach me how to dreame a dittie Let my Verse be like my Theame Dull and heavie such as thy Dreame Which such due proportion kept Wee are covinc't thy wit too slept That all who reade me may protest I dreame in earnest too not jest But if thou do'st deny me Know Thy Booke shall never say me no. The Apologie GEntlemen sure 't is neither Law nor Reason A man should be attaint for dreaming Treason But if it should 't is nothing unto me Another dream't and told it as you see Yet both have more than dream't you say this Act Hath chang'd the dreaming of it into fact 'T is true we writ and published this storie Good cause we knew we should be accessorie Should we conceale it Thus to cleare all doubt Of our Integrities wee put it out You see if any danger 's in the thing Who can runn fastest may acquaint his King The Character of the Dreamer and your Friend the bringer of it in Verse THe Dreamer is a man of some degree A Bachilar of Art past Sophistrie An able disputant you need not feare A fallacie in what 's presented here Had b Two Fellowes of Keyes Colledge who pretend to Revelations Philips seen as much or Harrington They would have cry'd a Revelation But he averr'd it non-sense for to write That he when fast asleep saw a new light He is so Orthodox hee 'd rather be A Dreaming fellow thought than Sectarie All such he hates more than he loves a King Or Bishiop never doubt then what wee sing He deeply swore all true and I am loath To have him put to dreame another Oath He bid me tell you too if any doe Doubt it or me They may to Cambridge goe To him but sure you may believe your eyes As soone as eares 't is cheaper then be wise And I your Verser Gentlemen believ 't For Age and standing too might have morewit Yet by the way know this when first I saw That Reverend utter Barrister at Law Hight William Prynne was turn'd an arrant Poet. I thought no wise man ere againe would doe it Would he in Lawyers Lattine Verse as much He might doe wondrous Service ' gainst the Dutch How would he yoake c Who hath written most dull verses against the State Salmasius and that foole Who sure mistooke and slept on Mount d The Castle Pryn was Prisoner in Orgule Instead of Mount Parnassus and of Rhene Or butter-milke hath swil'd for Hyppcrene But Pryn's on their side and against the State You say let him deplorethen Charles his fate And verse so like himselfe that all may sweare He is to Ignoramus lawfull Heire Thus he and his Dutch dull-men may perchance If Fortune favour fooles Themselves advance I say when first I saw Pryns Mount f His Poem he thus stiles in honour to that place where he writ it Orgule To which no Man can Rhime nor word but Foole. And he must be an arrant one too who In English Verse like William Pryn shall doe I was let blood in the Poetike Veine And drench't for ever swallowing Verse againe And so remain'd till of a versing kinde A dreaming Poet rectifi'd my minde And so inspir'd my Brest I could not chuse But here present you with a dreaming Muse The Dreamer too besought a friend to write For him whose Braines were troubled to indite The Dreame THe Worlds bright eye had in its lid the West Closed all Beames and night inviting-rest Had drawne her sable Curtaines round the skie And spread abroad her starr deckt Canopie The God of sleep had summon'd every Breast On its Allegiance to repaire to rest But this most sorrowfull Sir would not obey He heard the King had lost his Head that day Frantick with rage and griefe he thus replies How can wee sleep dull God without our eyes Which wee have lost in losing of our Head Thine Empire is expir'd now CHARLES is dead And wee Deaths Conquest whose keen Axes edge Will vindicate thy breach of priviledge This said he takes a bottle sorrowe 's drye And drinking vow'd to write an ELEGIE Then cryes his bottle plying still divine And mighty sack no fancie can decline So low but Thou canst raise it onlie Thou Canst give a dumbe Muse voice O doe then throw So rich infusion through my heavie Braine That I reviv'd may reach as high a straine In Verse as Thou canst give and here I vow Fresh Laurels shall empale thy sparkling brow And the wide world shall know only thy Might Can make a Poet loftilie Endite Thus spoke He and then drinkes Morpheus stood by And smiling to himselfe did thus reply Fondling alas do'st think that sack can make Thee finde thy feet which doth from others take All use of Leggs but thou shalt quickly feel Our Mase as soone as Sack can make thee reel And since thou art so saucie thou shalt know Our power and what the God of sleep can doe This said he laid his Mace upon his Head Who streight sanke downe asleep into his Bed His senses thus fast bound Morpheus commands A nimble dream to loose his fancies bands Which freed a rambling went and made no stay Untill a Troope of Soldiers stopt its way This Troop besmear'd with blood dust thus cri'd England is free great Jove be magnifi'd And our just cause exaulted thus they went Untill they came where sate the Parliament And Englands Genius in the midst enthron'd Whose Temples were with Verdant Laurell crown'd The Soidiers seen stand Englands Geniuss cryes Your Servants their brave Chiefe bowing replyes Whose lives attended on your high command To know your further pleasure here