Hopes Time may repaire When ruin'd Faith must finish in despaire III. Alas Ye look but up the Hill on me Which shews to you a faire and smooth ascent The Precipice behind ye cannot see On which high Fortunes are too pronely bent If there I slip what former joy or blisse Can heale the bruise of such a fall as this A Reply I. WHo love enjoyes and placed hath his Mind Where fairer Vertues fairest beauties grace Than in himselfe such store of worth doth find That he deserves to hold so good a Place To chilling feares how can he be set forth Whose feares condemne his own doubts others worth II. Desire as flames of Zeale Feare Horrours meets They rise who fall oâ— falling never prov'd Who is so dainty satiate with sweeâ—s To murmur when the Banket is remov'd The fairest hopes Time in the Bud destroys When sweet are memories of ruin'd Joyes III. It is no Hill but Heaven where you remaine And whom Desert advanced hath so high To reach the Guerdon of his burning Paine Must not repine to fall and falling dye His Hopes are crown'd what years of tedious breath Can them compare with such a happy Death W. D. A Translation AH silly Soule what wilt thou â—ay When he whom earth and Heavens obey Comes Man to judge in the last Day II. When He a reason askes why Grace And Goodnesse thou wouldst not embrace But steps of Vanity didst trace III. That Day of Terrour Vengeance Ire Now to prevent thou should'st desire And to thy God in haste retire IV. With watry Eyes and Sigh-swollen Heart O beg beg in his Love a part Whilst Conscience with remorse doth smart V. That dreaded Day of wrath and shame In flames shall turne this Worlds huge Frame As sacred Prophets do proclaime VI. O! with what Griefe shall Earthlings grone When that great Judge set on his Throne Examines strictly every One. VII Shrill-sounding Trumpets through the Aire Shall from dark Sepulchres each where Force wretched Mortalls to appeare VIII Nature and Death amaz'd remaine To find their dead arise againe And Processe with their Judge maintaine IX Display'd then open Books shall lye Which all those secret crimes descry For which the guilty World must dye X. The Judge enthron'd whom Bribes not gaine The closest crimes appeare shall plaine And none unpunished remaine XI O who then pitty shall poore me Or who miâ—e Advocate shall be When scarce the justest passe shall free XII All wholly holy dreadfull King Who freely life to thine dost bring Of Mercy save me Mercies spring XIII Then sweet Jesu call to mind How of thy Paines I was the End And favour let me that day find XIV In search of me Thou full of paine Did'st sweat bloud Death on Crosse sustaine Let not these suff'rages be in vaine XV. Thou supreame Judge most just and wise Purge me from guilt which on me lies Before that day of thine Assize XVI Charg'd with remorse loe here I groane Sin makes my face a blush take on Ah! spare me prostrate at thy Throne XVII Who Mary Magdalen didst spare And lend'st the Thiefe on Crosse thine Eare Shewest me faire hopes I should not feare XVIII My prayers imperfect are and weake But worthy of thy grace them make And save me from Hells burning Lake XIX On that great Day at thy right hand Grant I amongst thy Sheep may stand Sequestred from the Goatish Band. XX. When that the Reprobates are all To everlasting flames made thrall O to thy Chosen Lord me call XXI That I one of thy Company With those whom thou dost justifie May live blest in Eternity Vpon John Earle of Laderdale his Death OF those rare Worthies who adorn'd our North And shin'd like Constellations Thou alone Remaindst last great Maitland charg'd with worth Second in Vertues Theater to none But finding all eccentrick in our times Religion into superstition turn'd Justice silenc'd exiled or inurn'd Truth Faith and Charity reputed Crimes The young man destinate by sword to fall And Trophees of their Countries spoiles to reare Strange Laws the Ag'd and prudent to appale And forc'd sad yoakes of Tyranny to beare And for nor great nor vertues minds a roome Disdaining life thou shouldst into thy Tombe II. WHen misdevotion every where shall take place And lofty Oratours in thundring termes Shall move you people to arise in armes And Churches hallow'd policy deface When you shall but one generall sepulchre As Averroes did one generall Soule On high on low on good on bad confer And your dull Predecessors rites controule Ah spare this Monument great Guests it keeps Three grave Justiciars whom true worth did raise The Muses Darlings whose losse Phoebus weeps Best mens delight the glory of their daies More we would say but feare and stand in aw To turne Idolaters and break your Law III. DO not repine blest soule that humble wits Do make thy worth the matter of their Verse No high strain'd Muse our times and sorrows fits And we do sigh not sing to crown thy Hearse Thy wisest Prince e're manag'd Brittaines State Did not disdaine in numbers cleere and brave The vertues of thy Sire to celebrate And fix a rich memoriall on his Grave Thou didst deserve no lesse and here in Jet Gold Touch Brasse Porphyrie or Parian Stone That by a Princes hand no lines are set For thee the cause is now this Land hath none Such Giant Moods our parity forth brings We all will nothing be or all be Kings EPITAPHS TO The Obsequies of the blessed Prince JAMES King of Great Brittaine LEt holy David Solomon the Wise That King whose Breast Aegeria did inflame Augustus Helens Son Great in all Eyes Do Homage low to thy Mausolean Frame And bow before thy Laurels Anadem Let all those sacred Swans which to the Skies By never-dying Layes have rais'd their Name From North to South where Sun doth set and rise Religion Orphan'd waileth o're thy Urne Justice weeps out her Eyes now truly blind To Niobes the remnant Vertues turne Fame but to blaze thy Glories staies behind I' th' World which late was golden by thy Breath Is Iron turn'd and horrid by thy Death On the Death of a young Lady THis Beauty which pale Death in Dust did turne And clos'd so soon within a Coffin sad Did passe like Lightning like to Thunder burne So little Life so much of Worth it had Heavens but to shew their Might here made it shine And when admir'd then in the Worlds disdaine O Teares O Griefe did call it back againe Lest Earth should vaunt she kept what was Divine What can we hope for more what more enjoy Sith fairest things thus soonest have their End And as on Bodies shadows do attend Sith all our Blisse is follow'd with Annoy She is not dead she lives where she did love Her Memory on Earth her souâ—e above FOnd Wight who dream'st of Greatness Glory State And Worlds of Pleasures Honours dost devise Awake Learne how that here thou
but only so far Embleme Thee As in a circle men the Deity A wreath of Bayes we 'll lay upon thy Herse For that shall speake Thee better than our Verse That art in number of those Things whose end Nor whose beginning we can comprehend A Star which did the other Day appeare T'enlighten up our dark'ned Hemispheare Nor can we tell nor how nor whence it came Yet feele the heat of thy admired flame 'T was thou that thaw'd our North 't was thou didst cleare The eternall mists which had beset us here Till by thy golden Beames and powerfull Ray Thou chas'd hence Darknesse and brought out the Day But as the Sun though he bestow all Light On us yet hinders by the same our sight To gaze on him So thou though thou dispence Far more on us by thy bright influence Yet such is thy transcendent brightnesse we Thereby are dazled and cannot reach thee Then art thou less'ned should we bound thy Praise T' our narrow dull conceit which cannot raise Themselves beyond a vulgar Theame nor flye A pitch like unto thine in Poesie Yet as the greatest Kings have sometimes dain'd The smallest Presents from a poore mans hand When pure devotion gave them it may be Your Genius will accept a mite from me It speaks my Love although it reach not you And you are praised when I would so do John Spotswood To William Drummond of Hawthornden I Never rested on the Muses bed Nor dipt my Quill in the Thessalian Fountaine My rustick Muse was rudely fostered And flies too low to reach the double mountaine Then do not sparkes with your bright Suns compare Perfection in a Womans worke is rare From an untroubled mind should Verses flow My discontents makes mine too muddy show And hoarse encumbrances of houshold care Where these remaine the Muses ne're repaire If thou dost extoll her Haire Or her Ivory Forehead faire Or those Stars whose bright reflection Thrals thy heart in sweet subjection Or when to display thou seeks The snow-mixt Roses on her Cheekes Or those Rubies soft and sweet Over those pretty Rows that meet The Chian Painter as asham'd Hides his Picture so far fam'd And the Queen he carv'd it by With a blush her face doth dye Since those Lines do limne a Creature That so far surpast her Feature When thou shew'st how fairest Flora Prankt with pride the banks of Ora So thy Verse her streames doth honour Strangers grow enamoured on her All the Swans that swim in Po Would their native brooks forgo And as loathing Phoebus beames Long to bath in cooler streamos Tree-turn'd Daphne would be seen In her Groves to flourish green And her Boughs would gladly spare To frame a garland for thy haire That fairest Nymphs with finest fingers May thee crown the best of singers But when thy Muse dissolv'd in show'rs Wailes that peerlesse Prince of ours Cropt by too untimely Fate Her mourning doth exasperate Senselesse things to see thee moane Stones do weep and Trees do groane Birds in aire Fishes in flood Beasts in field forsake their food The Nymphs forgoing all their Bow'rs Teare their Chaplets deckt with Flow'rs Sol himselfe with misty vapor Hides from earth his glorious Tapor And as mov'd to heare thee plaine Shews his griefe in show'rs of raine Mary Oxlie of Morpet POEMS The First Part. IN my first Prime when childish Humours fed My wanton Wit ere I did know the Blisse Lies in a loving Eye or amorous Kisse Or with what Sighs a Lover warmes his Bed By the sweet Thespian Sisters Errour led I had more mind to read than lov'd to write And so to praise a perfect Red and White But God wote knew not what was in my Head Love smil'd to see me take so great Delight To turne those Antiques of the Age of Gold And that I might more Mysteries behold He set so faire a Volume to my Sight That I Ephemerides laid aside Glad on this blushing Book my Death to read SON I Know that all beneath the Moon decaies And what by Mortalls in this World is brought In Times great Periods shall returne to nought That fairest States have fatall Nights and Daies I know that all the Muses heavenly Layes With Toyle of Spright which are so dearely bought As idle sounds of few or none are sought That there is nothing lighter than vaine Praise I know fraile Beauty like the purple Floure To which one Morne oft Birth and Death affords That Love a jarring is of Minds Accords Where Sense and Will bring under Reasons Power Know what I list this all can not me move But that alas I both must write and love SON YE who so curiously do paint your Thoughts Enlightning ev'ry Line in such a guise That they seem rather to have fallen from Skies Than of a humane Hand by mortall Draughts In one Part Sorrow so tormented lies As if his Life at ev'ry Sigh would part Love Here blindfolded stands with Bow and Dart â—here Hope looks pale Despaire with flaming Eyes Of my rude Pensill look not for such Art My Wit I find too little to devise So high Conceptions to expresse my smart And some say Love is faign'd that 's too too wise These troubled Words and Lines-confus'd you find Are like unto their Modell my sick Mind SON Aye me and I am now the Man whose Mâ—se In happier Times was wont to laugh at Love And those who suff'red that blind Boy abuse The noble Gifts were given them from above What Metamorphose strange is this I prove My selfe now scarce I find my selfe to be And thinke no Fable Circes Tyrannie And all the Tales are told of changed Jove Vertue hath taught with her Philosophy My mind unto a better Course to move Reason may chide her full and oft reprove Affections Power but what is that to me Who ever thinke and never thinke on Ought But that bright Cherubine which thraâ—ls my Thought SON HOw that vaste Heaven intitl'd First is rol'd If any glancing Towres beyond it be And People living in Eternity Or Essence pure that doth this All uphold What motion have those fixed Sparkes of Gold The wandring Carbuncles which shine from high By Sprights or Bodies crosse-waies in the Skie If they be turn'd and mortall Things behold How Sun posts Heaven about how Nights pale Queen With borrowed Beames lookes on this hanging Round What cause faire Iris hath and Monsters seene In Aires large Fields of light and Seas profound Did hold my wandring Thoughts when thy sweet Eye Bade me leave all and only thinke on Thee SON FAire is my Yoake though grievous be my Paines Sweet are my Wounds although they deeply smart My Bit is Gold though shortened be the Reines My Bondage brave though I may not depart Although I burne the Fire which doth impart Those Flames so sweet reviving Force containes That like Arabia's Bird my wasted Heart Made quick by Death more lively still remaines I joy though oft my waking Eyes spend Teares I
never want Delight even when I grone Best companied when most I am alone A Heaven of Hopes I have midst Hells of Feares Thus every way Contentment strange I find But most in Her rare Beauty my rare Mind SON VAunt not fair Heavens of your two glorious Lights Which though â—ost bright yet see not when they shine And shining cannot show their Beames divine Both in one Place but part by Daies and Nights Earth vaunt not of those Treasures ye enshrine Held only deare because hid from our Sights Your pure and burnish'd Gold your Diamonds fine Snow-passing Ivory that the Eye delights Nor Seas of those deare Wares are in you found Vaunt not rich Pearle red Corrall which do stir A fond desire in Fooles to plunge your Ground These all more faire are to be had in Her Pearle Ivory Corrall Diamond Suns Gold Teeth Neck Lips Heart Eyes Haire are to behold SON WHen Nature now had wonderfully wrought All Auristellas Parts except her Eyes To make those Twins two Lamps in Beauties Skies She Counsell of her Starry Seâ—aâ—e sought Mars and Apollo first did her advise To wrap in Colour Black those Comets bright Thâ—t Love him so might soberly disguise And unperceived Wound at every Sight Chaste Phoebe spake for purest azure dies But Jove and Venus green about the Light To frame thought best as bringing most Delight That to pin'd Hearts Hope might for aye arise Nature all said a Paradise of green There plac'd to make all love which have them seen SON NOw while the Night her â—able Vaile hath spred And silently her resty Coach doth rolle Rowsing with Her from Tethis azure Bed Those starry Nymphs which dance about the Pole While Cynthia in purest Cipres cled The Laâ—mian Shepheard in a â—rance descries And looking pale from height of all the Skies She dies her Beauties in a blushing Red While Sleep in Triumph closed hath all Eyes And Birds and Beasts a Silence sweet do keep And Proteus monstrous People in the Deep The Winds and Waves husht up to rest entise I wake I turne I weep opprest with Paine Perplex'd in the Meanders of my Braine SON SLeep Silence Child sweet Father of soft Rest Prince whose Approach Peace to all Mortals brings Indifferent Host to Shepheards and to Kings Sole Comforter of Minds which are opprest Loe by thy Charming Rod all breathing Things Lie slumbring with Forgetfulnesse possest And yet o're me to spread thy drowsie Wings Thou spar'st alas who cannot be thy Guest Since I am thine O come but with that Face To inward Light which thou art wont to shew With fained Solace ease a true felt Woe Or if deafe God thou do deny that Grace Come as thou wilt and what thou wilt bequeath I long to kisse the Image of my Death SON FAire Moone who with thy cold and silver Shine Makes sweet the Horror of the dreadfull Night Delighting the weake Eye with smiles divine Which Phoebus dazels with his too much Light Bright Queen of the first Heaven if in thy Shrine By turning oft and Heavens eternall Might Thou hast not yet that once sweet Fire of thine Endemion forgot and Lovers Plight If Cause like thine may Pity breed in thee And Pity somewhat else to it obtaine Since thou hast Power of Dreames as well as He That holds the golden Rod and Morall Chaine Now while She sleeps in dolefull Guise her Show These Teares and the black Map of all my Woe SON LAmpe of Heavens Christall Hall that brings the Houres Eye-dazeler who makes the ugly Night At thy Approach flie to her slumbry Bowres And fills the World with Wonder and Delight Life of all lives Death-giver by thy flight To the south Pole from these sixe Signes of ours Gold-smith of all the Stars with Silver bright Who Moone enamells Apelles of the Flowers Ah from those watry Plaines thy golden Head Raise up and bring the so long lingring Morne A Grave nay Hell I find become this Bed This Bed so grievously where I am torne But woe is me though thou now brought the Day Day shall but serve moe Sorrows to display SONG IT was the time when to our Northerne Pole The brightest Lampe of Heaven begins to rolle When Earth more wanton in new Robes appeareth And scorning Skies her Flowres in Rain-bows beareth On which the Aire moist Diamonds doth bequeath Which quake to feele the kissing Zephires breath When Birds from shady Groves their Love forth warble And Sea-like Heaven Heaven looks like smoothest Marble When I in simple course free from all Cares Far from the muddy Worlds inslaving snares By Oras flowry Bankes alone did wander Ora that sports her like to old Meander A Floud more worthy Fame and lasting praise Then that so high which Phaëtons fall did raise By whose pure moving Glasse the Milke-white Lillies Do dresse their tresses and the Daffadâ—llies Where Ora with a Wood is crown'd about And seems forgets the way how to come out A place there is where a delicious Fountaine Springs frâ—m the swelling brest of a proud Mountaine Whose falling Streames the quiet Cavernes wound And make the Echoes shrill resound that sound The Laurâ—ll there the shing Channell graces The Palm hâ—r Love with long-stretch'd Arms embraces The Poplar spreads her Branches to the Skie And hides from sight that azure Canopy The Streams the Trees the Trees their leaves still nourish That Place grave Winter finds â—ot without flourish If living Eyes Elysian fields could see This little Arden might Elysium be Oft did Diana there her selfe repose And Maâ—s the Acidaliaâ— Queen enclose The Nymphs oft here their baskets bring with Flow'rs And Anadems weave for their Paramours The Satyres in those shades are heard to languish And make the Shepheards partners of their anguish The Shepheards who in Barkes of tender Trees Do grave their Loves Disdaines and Jealousies Which Phillis when there by Her Flocks she feedeth With Pitty now anon with laughter readeth Neare to this place when Sun in midst of Day In highest top of Heaven his Coach did stay And as advising on his Career glanced As all along that morne he had advanced His panting Steeds along those Fields of light Most princely looking from that glorious height When most the Grashoppers are heard in Meadows And loftiest Pines or small or have no shadows It was my hap O wofull hap to bide Where thickest shades me from all Raies did hide In a faire Arbor 't was some Sylvans Chamber Whose Seeling spred was with the Locks of Amber Of new bloom'd Sicamors Floore wrought with Flow'rs More sweet and rich than those in Princes Bow'rs Here Adon blush't and Clitia all amazed Lookt pale with Him who in the Fountaine gazed The Amaranthus smyl'd and that sweet Boy Which sometime was the God of Delos joy The brave Carnation speckled Pinke here shined The Uiolet her fainting Head declined Beneath a sleepy Chasbow all of Gold The Marigold her leaves did here unfold Now while that ravish'd with delight
those within but to come forth do venter That stately Place againe they never enter The Precinct's strengthened with a Ditch of Feares In which doth swell a Lake of Inky Teares Of madding Lovers who abide their moaning And thicken even the Aire with pitious groaning This Hold to brave the Skies the Destines fram'd And then the Fort of Chastity is nam'd The Queen of the third Heaven once to appall it The God of Thrace Here brought who could not thrall it For which he vow'd ne're Arms more to put on And on Riphean Hils was heard to groan Here Psyches Lover hurles his Darts at randon Which all for nought him serve as doth his Brandon What grievous Agony did invade my Mind When in that Place my Hope I saw confin'd Where with high-towring Thoughts I only reacht her Which did burne up their Wings when they approacht her Me thought I set me by a Cypresse shade And Night and Day the Hyacinthe there read And that bewailing Nightingales did borrow Plaints of my Plaint and sorrows of my Sorrow My food was Worm-wood mine own Teares my drinke My rest on Death and sad Mishaps to thinke And for such Thoughts to have my Heart enlarged And ease mine Eyes with brinie Tribute charged Over a Brook I laid my pining Face But then the Brooke as griev'd at my Disgrace A Face Me shew'd so pin'd sad over-clouded That at the Sight afray'd mine Eyes them shrowded This is the guerdon Love this is the Game In end which to thy Servants doth remaine More would I say when Feare made Sleep to leave me And of those fatall Shadows did bereave me But ah alas instead to dreame of Love And Woes I now them in effect did prove For what into my troubled Braine was painted Awak'd I found that Time and Place presented SONNETS AH burning Thoughts now let me take some Rest And your tumultuous Broyles a while appease Is 't not enough Stars Fortune Love molest Me all at once but ye must too displease Let Hope though false yet lodge within my brest My high Attempt though dangerous yet praise What though I trace not right Heavens steppy waies It doth suffice my Fall shall make me blest I do not doat on Daies I feare not Death So that my Life be good I wish't not long Let me Renown'd live from the Worldly Throng And when Heaven lists recall this borrowed Breath Men but like Visions are Time all doth claime He lives who dies to win a lasting Name SON THat learned Grecian who did so excell In Knowledge passing Sense that he is nam'd Of all the after Worlds Divine doth tell That all the Time when first our Soules are fram'd Ere in these Mansions blind they come to dwell They live bright Rayes of that Eternall light And others see know love in Heavens great height Not toyld with ought to Reason do rebell It is most true for straight at the first sight My Mind me told that in some other place It elsewhere saw th' Idea of that face And lov'd a love of Heavenly pure delight What wonder now I feele so faire a flame Sith I her lov'd ere on this Earth She came SON NOr Arne nor Mincius nor stately Tiber Sebethus nor the Flood into whose streames He fell who burnt the world with borrowed beames Gold-rolling Tagus Munda famous Iber Sorgue Rosne Loire Garron nor proud-banked Seinâ— Peneus Phasis Xanthus humble Ladon Nor She whose Nymphes excell her loved Adon Faire Tamesis nor Ister large nor Rheine Euphrates Tigrâ—s Indus Hermus Gange Pearly Hydaspes Serpent-like Meander The Floud which robbed Hero of Leander Nile that far far his hidden Head doth range Have ever had so rare a cause of praise As Ora where this Northerne Phoenix stayes SON TO heare my plaints faire River Christalline Thou in a silent slumber seems to stay Delicious Flowers Lilly and Columbine Ye bow your Heads when I my Woes display Forrests in you the Mirtle Palme and Bay Have had compassion listning to my groanes The Winds with sighs have solemniz'd my moanes 'Mong leaves which whisper'd what they could not say The Caves the Rocks the Hills the Sylvans Thrones As if even pitty did in them appeare Have at my sorrow rent their ruthlesse stones Each thing I find hath sence except my Deare Who doth not thinke I love or will not know My Griefe perchance delighting in my woe SON SWeet Brook in whose cleare Christall I my eyes Have oft seen great in labour of their teares Enamell'd Banke whose shining gravell beares These sad Characters of my miseries High Woods whose mounting tops menace the Sphears Wild Citizens Amphions of the Trees You gloomy Groves at hottest Noons which freeze Elysian shades which Phoebus never cleares Vaste solitary Mountaines pleasant Plaines Embroydred Meads that Ocean-waies you reach Hills Dales Springs All whom my sad cry constraines To take part of my plaints and learne woes speech Will that remorselesse faire e're pity show Of grace now answer if ye ought know No. SON WIth flaming Horns the Bull now brings the yeare Melt do the Mountains rouling flouds of Snow The silver Rivers in smooth Channels flow The Late-bare Woods green Anadeams do weare The Nightingall forgetting Winters woe Cals up the lazy Morne her notes to heare Spread are those Flow'rs which names of Princes beare Some red some azure white and golden grow Here lowes a Heifer there be-wailing strayes A harmelesse Lambe not far a Stag rebounds The Shepheards sing to grazing flocks sweet Layes And all about the Ecchoing Aire resounds Hils Dales Woods Flouds ev'ry thing doth change But She in rigour I in Love am strange SON THat I so slenderly set forth my Mind Writing I wot not what in ragged Rimes Orecharg'd with brasse in these so golden Times When otherâ— towre so high am left behind I crave not Phoebus leave his sacred Cell To bind my Brows with fresh Aonian Baies But leave 't to those who tuning Sweetest Laies By Tempe sit or Aganippes Well Nor yet to Venus Tree do I aspire Sith She for whom I might affect that praise My best attempts with cruell words gainsaies And I seek not that others me admire Of weeping Myrrhe the Crowne is which I crave With a sad Cypresse to adorne my Grave MADRIGALL WHen as She smiles I find More light before mine Eyes Than when the Sun from Inde Brings to our World a flowry Paradise But when She gently weeps And poures forth pearly showers On cheeks faire blushing flowers A sweet melancholy my senses keeps Both feed so my disease So much both do me please That oft I doubt which more my heart doth burne Love to behold her smile or Pitty mourne SON MY Teares may well Numidian Lions tame And Pity breed into the hardest heart That ever Pyrrha did to Maid impart When She them first of blushing Rocks did frame Ah Eyes which only serve to waile my smart How long will you my inward Woes proclaime May 't not suffice
you beare a weeping Part All Night at day but you must do the same Cease idle Sighs to spend your Stormes in vaine And these sweet silent thickets to molest Containe you in the Prison of my Brest You do not ease but aggravate my Paine Or if burst forth you must that Tempest move In sight of her whom I so dearely love SON YOu restlesse Seas appease your roaring Waves And you who raise huge Mountaines in that Plaine Aires Trumpeters your hideous sounds containe And listen to the plaints my griefe doth cause Eternall Lights though adamantine Laws Of Destinies to move still you ordaine Turne hither all your Eyes your Axels pause And wonder at the Torments I sustaine â—ad Earth if thou made dull by my disgrace Be not as senselesse aske those Powers above Why they so crost a Wretch brought on thy Face Fram'd for mishap th' Anachorit of Love And bid them that no more Etnaes may burne To Erimanth ' or Rhodâ—pe me turne SON IF crost with all mishaps be my poore Life If one short day I never spent in mirth If my Sp'rit with it selfe holds lasting strife If sorrows death is but new sorrows birth If this vaine World be but a mournfull Stage Where slave-borne Man plaies to the laughing Stars If Youth be toss'd with Love with Weaknesse Age If Knowledge serves to hold our Thoughts in Wars If Time can close the hundred Mouths of Fame And make what 's long since past like that 's to be If Vertue only be an Idle Name If being borne I was but borne to dye Why seek I to prolong these loathsome daies The fairest Rose in shortest time decaies SON ALl other Beauties howsoe're they shine In Haires more bright than is the golden Ore Or cheeks more faire than fairest Eglantine Or hands like hers that comes the Sun before Match'd with that Heavenly Hew and shape divine With those deare Stars which my weak thoughts adore Look but as shaddows or if they be more It is in this that they are like to thine Who sees those Eyes their force that doth not prove Who gazeth on the dimple of that chin And finds not Venus Son entrench'd therein Or hath not sence or knows not what is Love To see thee had Narcissus had the grace He would have died with wondring on thy Face SEXTAIN THe Heaven doth not containe so many Stars Nor levell'd lye so many leaves in Woods When Autumne and cold Boreas sound their Wars So many Waves have not the Ocean Floods As my torn Mind hath torments all the Night And Heart spends Sighs when Phoebus brings the Light Why was I made a Partner of the Light Who crost in birth by bad aspect of Stars Have never since had happy Day nor Night Why was not I a liver in the Woods Or Citizen of Thetis christall Floods But fram'd a Man for Love and Fortunes Wars I look each Day when Death should end the Wars Vncivill Wars 'twixt Sense and Reasons Light My Paines I count to Mountaines Meads and Floods And of my sorrow Partners make the Stars All Desolate I haunt the fearfull Woods When I should give my selfe to rest at Night With watchfull Eyes I ne'r behold the Night Mother of Peace but ah to me of Wars And Cynthia Queen-like shining through the Woods But straight those Lamps come in my thought whose Light My Judgement dazel'd passing brightest Stars And then my Eyes in-isle themselves with Floods Turne to their Springs againe first shall the Floods Cleare shall the Sun the sad and gloomy Night To dance about the Pole cease shall the Stars The Elements renew their ancient Wars Shall first and be depriv'd of Place and Light Ere I find rest in City Fields or Woods End these my daies you Inmates of the Woods Take this my Life ye deep and raging Flouds Sun never rise to cleare me with thy Light Horror and Darknesse keep a lasting Night Consume me Care with thy intestine Wars And stay your Influence o're me bright Stars In vaine the Stars th' Inhabitants o' th' Woods Care Horror Wars I call and raging Floods For all have sworne no Night shall dim my Sight SON O Sacred Blush enpurpling Cheekes pure skies With crimson Wings which spred thee like the Morne O bashfull look sent from those shining eyes Which though slid down on Earth doth Heaven adorne O Tongue in which most lushious Nectar lies That can at once both blesse and make forlorne Deare corrall Lip which Beauty beautifies That trembling stood before her words were borne And you her Words Words no but golden Chaines Which did inslave my eares ensnare my soule Wise Image of her Mind Mind that containes A power all Power of Senses for to controule So sweetly you from Love disswade do me That I love more if more my Love can be SON SOund hoarse sad Lute true witnesse of my woe And strive no more to ease selfe chosen paine With soule-enchanting sounds your accents straine Unto these teares incessantly which flow Sad Treeble weep and you dull Basses show Your Masters sorrow in a dolefull straine Let never joyfull Hand upon you go Nor Consort keep but when you do complaine Flie Phoebus Raies abhor the irkesome Light Woods solitary shades for thee are best Or the black horrours of the blackest Night When all the World save Thou and I do rest Then sound sad Lute and beare a mourning part Thou Hell canst move though not a Womans Heart SON IN vaine I haunt the cold and Silver Springs To quench the Fever burning in my veines In vaine Loves pilgrim Mountaines Daâ—es and Plains I over-run vaine help long absence brings In vain my Friends your Counsell me constraines To fly and place my Thoughts on other things Ah like the Bird that fired hath her Wings The more I move the greater are my paines Desire alas Desire a Zeuxis new From th' Orient borrowing Gold from Westerne skies Heavenly Cinabre sets before my Eyes In every place her Haire sweet look and Hue That flie run rest I all doth prove but vaine My life lies in those Eyes which have me slaine SON SLide soft faire Forth and make a Christall Plaine Cut your white Locks and on your foamy Face Let not a wrinkle be when you embrace The Boat that Earths Perfections doth containe Winds wonder and through wondring hold your pace Or if that ye your hearts cannot restraine From sending sighs feeling a Lovers Case Sigh and in her faire haire your selves enchaine Or take these sighs which absence makes arise From my oppressed brest and fill the sailes Or some sweet breath new brought from Paradise The flouds do smile Love o're the winds prevailes And yet huge Waves arise the cause is this The Ocean strives with Forth the Boat to kisse SON TRust not sweet soule those curled waves of Gold With gentle Tides that on your Temples flow Nor Temples spred with Flakes of Virgin snow Nor snow of Cheeks with Tyrian graine enrold Trust not those
shining Lights which wrought my woe When first I did their azure Raies behold Nor voice whose sounds more strange effects do show Than of the Thracian Harper have been told Look to this dying Lilly fading Rose Darke Hyacinthe of late whose blushing Beames Made all the neighbouring herbs and grasse rejoyce And thinke how little is 'twixt Lifes extreames The cruell Tyrant that did kill those Flow'rs Shall once aye me not spare that Spring of yours SON IN Minds pure Glasse when I my selfe behold And lively see how my best daies are spent What clouds of care above my head are rold What comming ill which I cannot prevent My course begun I wearied do repent And would embrace what Reason oft hath told But scarce thus thinke I when Love hath controld All the best reasons Reason could invent Though sure I know my labours end is griefe The more I strive that I the more shall pine That only death shall be my last reliefe Yet when I thinke upon that face divine Like one with Arrow shot in laughters place Maugre my Heart I joy in my disgrace SON DEare Quirister who from those shadows sends Ere that the blushing Morne dare shew her Light Such sad lamenting straines that Night attends Become all Eare Stars stay to heare thy plight If one whose griefe even reach of thought transcends Who ne're not in a Dreame did taste Delight May thee importune who like case pretends And seems to joy in woe in Woes despight Tell me so may thou Fortune milder try And long long sing for what thou thus complaines Since Winter 's gone and Sun in dapled skie Enamour'd smiles on Woods and flowry Plaines The Bird as if my questions did her move With trembling wings sigh'd forth I love I love SON O Cruell Beauty sweetnesse inhumane That night and day contends with my desire And seeks my hope to kill not quench my fire By Death not Baulme to ease my pleasant paine Though ye my thoughts tread down which would aspire And bound my blisse do not alas disdaine That I your matchlesse worth and grace admire And for their cause these torments sharpe sustaine Let great Empedocles vaunt of his death Found in the midst of those Sicilian flames And Phaëton that Heaven him rest of breath And Daedals Son who nam'd the Samian streames Their haps I not envy my praise shall be That the most faire that lives mov'd me to â—ye SON THe Hyperborean Hills Ceraunus Snow Or Arimaspus cruell first thee bred The Caspian Tigers with their milke thee fed And Faunes did humane bloud on thee bestow Fierce Orithyas lover in thy bed Thee lull'd asleep where he enrag'd doth blow Thou didst not drinke the Flouds which here do flow But teares or those by ycie Tanais Head Sith thou disdaines my love neglects my griefe Laughs at my groanes and still affects my death Of thee nor Heaven I 'll seek no more reliefe Nor longer entertaine this loathsome breath But yeeld unto my Stars that thou maiest prove What losse thou hadst in losing such a Love SONG PHOEBUS arise And paint the sable Skies With azure white and red Rowse Memmons Mother from her Tythons bed That she thy Careere may with Roses spread The Nightingales thy comming each where sing Make an eternall spring Give life to this darke World which lâ—eth dead Spread forth thy golden haire In larger locks than thou wast wont before And Emperour-like decore With Diadem of Pearle thy Temples faire Chase hence the ugly Night Which serves but to make deare thy glorious Light This is that happy Morne That day long-wished day Of all my life so darke If cruell Stars have not my ruine sworne And Fates my hopes betray Which purely white deserves An everlasting Diamond should it marke This is the Morne should bring unto this Grove My Love to heare and recompence my love Faire King who all preserves But show thy blushing Beams And thou two sweeter Eyes Shall see then those which by Peneus Streames Did once thy heart surprise Nay Suns which shine as cleare As thou when two thou did'st to Rome appeare Now Flora decke thy selfe in fairest guise If that ye Winds would heare A voice surpassing far Amphions lyre Your furious chiding stay Let Zephire only breathe And with her Tresses play Kissing sometimes those purple ports of Death The Winds all silent are And Phoebus in his chaire Ensaffraning Sea and Aire Makes vanish every Star Night like a drunkard reeles Beyond the Hills to shun his flaming Wheeles The Fields with flow'rs are deckt in every hue The Clouds with Orient Gold spangle their blew Here is the pleasant place And nothing wanting is save She alas SON WHo hath not seen into her saffran Bed The Mornings Goddess mildly her repose Or her of whose pure bloud first sprang the Rose Lull'd in a slumber by a Mirtle shade Who hath not seen that sleeping white and red Makes Phoebe look so pale which she did close In that Jonian Hill to ease her woes Which only lives by her deare kisses fed Come but and see my Lady sweetly sleep The sighing Rubies of those heavenly lips The Cupids which brests golden Apples keep Those Eyes which shine in midst of their Ecclipse And he them all shall see perhaps and prove She waking but perswades now forceth Love SON SEe Cithereas Birds that milk-white paire On yonder leavie Mirtle Tree which grone And waken with their kisses in the Aire Th' enamour'd Zephires murmuring one by one If thou but sense hadst like Pigmalions Stone Or hadst not seen Medusas snaky haire Loves lessons thou mightst learn and learn sweet faire To Summers heat ere that thy Spring be growne And if those kissing lovers seeme but Cold Look how that Elme this Ivy doth embrace And binds and claspes with many a wanton fold And courting Sleep o'reshadows all the place Nay seems to say deare Tree we shall not part In sign whereof loe in each leafe a Heart SON THe Sun is faire when he with crimson Crown And flaming Rubies leaves his Easterne bed Faire is Thaumantias in her Christall gown When clouds engemm'd shew azure green and red To Westerne Worlds when wearied Day goes down And from heavens windows each Star shows her head Earths silent daughter Night is faire though brown Faire is the Moon though in Loves livery cled The Spring is faire when it doth paint Aprill Faire are the Meads the Woods the Floods are faire Faire looketh Ceres with her yellow haire And Apples-Queene when Rose-cheekt she doth smile That Heaven and Earth and Seas are faire is true Yet true that all not please so much as you MADRIGALL LIke the Idalian Queene Her haire about her Eyne And necke on brests ripe Apples to be seen At first glance of the Morne In Cyprus Gardens gathering those farie flowers Which of her blood were borne I saw but fainting saw my Paramours The Graces naked danc'd about the place The Winds and Trees amaz'd With silence on her gaz'd
of the Spheares When Quills could move no more and force did faile Though down I fell from Heavens high azure bounds Yet doth Renowne my Losses countervaile For still the Shore my brave attempt resounds A Sea an Element doth beare my Name What Mortalls Tombe's so great in Place or Fame On his Lady beholding her selfe in a Marble WOrld wonder not that I Keep in my brest engraven That Angels face hath me of Rest bereaven See Dead and Senselesse things cannot deny To lodge so deare a Guest Ev'n this hard Marble Stone Receives the same and loves but cannot groane To sleep HOw comes it Sleep that thou Even kisses me affords Of her deare her so far who 's absent now How did I heare those Words Which Rocks might move and move the Pines to Bow Aye me before halfe day Why did'st thou steale away Returne I thine for ever will remaine If thou wilt bring with thee that Guest againe A pleasant deceit OVer a christall Source Iolas laid his face Of purling Streames to see the restlesse Course But scarce he had o'reshadowed the Place When in the water he a Child espies So like himselfe in stature Face and Eyes That glad he rose and cried Deare Mates approach see whom I have descried The Boy of whom strange stories Shepheards tell Oft-called Hylas dwelleth in this Well The Canon WHen first the Canon from her gaping Throat Against the Heaven her roaring Sulphur shot Jove wakened with the noise did aske with wonder What Mortall Wight had stolne from him his Thunder His christall Tow'rs he feared but Fire and Aire So high did stay the Ball from mounting there Thais Metamorphosis INto Briareus huge Thais wish'd she might change Her Man and pray'd him not thereat to grudge Nor fondly thinke it strange For if said she I might the parts dispose I wish you not a hundred Armes nor Hands But hundred things like those With which Priapus in our Garden stands The quality of a Kisse THe kisse with so much strife Which I late got sweet Heart Was it a sign of Death or was it Life Of Life it could not be For I by it did sigh my Soule in thee Ne was it Death Death doth no joy impart Thou silent stand'st ah what did'st thou bequeath A dying Life to me or living Death His Ladies Dog WHen Her deare Bosome clips That little Cur which fawnes to touch her Lips Or when it is his hap To lie lap'd in her Lap O it grows Noon with me With hotter-pointed Beames I burne then those are which the Sun forth streames When piercing lightning his Rayes call'd may be And as I muse how I to shose extreames Am brought I find no Cause except that She In Loves bright Zodiack having trac'd each Roome To the hot Dog-star now at last is come An Almanack THis strange Ecclipse one saies Strange Wonders doth foretell But you whose Wives excell And love to count their Praise Shut all your gates your Hedges plant with Thornes The Sun did threat the World this time with Hornes The Silk-Worme of Love A Daedale of my Death Now I resemble that slie worme on Earth Which prone to its own harme doth take no rest For Day and Night opprest I feed on fading Leaves Of Hope which me deceives And thousand Webs do warpe within my Brest And thus in end unto my selfe I weave A fast-shut Prison or a closer Grave Deep impression of Love to his Mistris WHom a mad Dog doth bite He doth in Water still That mad Dogs Image see Love mad perhaps when he my Heart did smite More to dissemble his Ill Transform'd himselfe to thee For thou art present ever since to me No Spring there is no Floud nor other Place Where I alas not see thy Heavenly Face A Chaine of Gold ARe not those Locks of Gold Sufficient Chaines the wildest Hearts to hold Is not that Ivory Hand A Diamantine Band Most sure to keep the most untamed Mind But ye must others find O yes why is that Golden One then woâ—ne Thus free in Chaines perhaps Loves Chaines to scorne On the Death of a Linnet IF cruell Death had Eares Or could be pleas'd by Songs This wing'd Musician had lâ—v'd many yeares And Nisa mine had never wâ—pt these Wrongs For when it first took Breath The Heavens their Notes did unto it bequeath And if that Samians sentences be true Amphion in this Body liv'd anew But Death who nothing spares and nothing heares As he doth Kings kill'd it O Griefe O Teares Lillas Prayer LOve if thou wilt once more That I to thee returne Sweet God make me not burn For quivering Age that doth spent Daies deplore Nor do thou wound my Heart For some unconstant Boy Who joyes to love yet makes of Love a Toy But ah if I must prove thy golden Dart Of grace O let me find A sweet young Lover with an aged Mind Thus Lilla pray'd and Idas did reply Who heard Deare have thy wish for such am I. Armelins Epitaph NEare to this Eglantine Enclosed lies the milke-white Armeline Once Cloris only joy Now only her annoy Who envied was of the most happy Swaines That keep their Flocks in Mountaines Dales or Plains For oft she bore the wanton in her Arme And oft her Bed and Bosome did he warme Now when unkinder Fates did him destroy Blest Dog he had the Grace That Cloris for him wet with teares her Face Epitaph THe Bawd of Justice he who Laws controll'd And made them fawn and frown as he got gold That Proteus of our State whose Heart and Mouth Were farther distant than is North from South That Cormorant who made himselfe so grosse On Peoples Ruine and the Princes Losse Is gone to Hell and though he here did evill He there perchance may prove an honest Devill A Translation FIerce Robbers were of old Exil'd the Champian Ground From Hamlets chas'd in Cities kill'd or bound And only Woods Caves Mountaines did them hold But now when all is sold Woods Mountaines Caves to good Men be refuge And do the Guiltlesse lodge And clad in Purple Gowns The greatest Theeves command within the Towns Epitaph THen Death thee hath beguil'd Alectos first borne Child Then thou who thrall'd all Laws Now against Wormes cannot maintaine thy Cause Yet Wormes more just than thou now do no Wrong Since all do wonder they thee spar'd so long For though from Life thou didst but lately passe Twelve Springs are gone since thou corrupted was Come Citizens erect to death an Altar Who keeps you from Axe Fuell Timber Halter A Jest. IN a most holy Church a holy man Vnto a holy Saint with Visage wan And Eyes like Fountaines mumbled forth a Prayer And with strange Words and Sighs made black the Aire And having long so stay'd and long long pray'd A thousand crosses on himselfe he lay'd And with some sacred Beads hung on his Armâ— His Eyes his Mouth his Temples Brest did charme Thus not content strange Worship hath no
For humanes Earth enjoying Angels Heaven Swift is your mortall Race And glassie is the Field Vaste are Desires not limited by Grace Life a weake Taper is Then while it light doth yeeld Leave flying Joyes embrace this lasting Blisse This when the Nymph had said Shâ—e div'd within the Floud Whose Face with smyling Curles long after staid Then Sighs did Zephyres presse Birds sang from every Wood And Ecchoes rang this was true Happinesse An Hymne on the Fairest Faire I Feele my Bosome glow with wontlesse Fires Rais'd from the vulgar presse my Mind aspires Wing'd with high Thoughts unto his praise to clime From deep Eternity who call'd forth Time That Essence which not mov'd makes each thing move Uncreate Beauty all-creating Love But by so great an object radiant light My Heart appall'd enfeebled rests my Sight Thick Clouds benight my labouring Ingine And at my high attempts my Wits repine If thou in me this sacred heat hast wrought My Knowledge sharpen Sarcells lend my Thought Grant me Times Father world-containing King A Pow'r of thee in pow'rfull Laies to sing That as thy Beauty in Earth lives Heaven shines It dawning may or shadow in my Lines As far beyond the starry walls of Heaven As is the loftiest of the Planets seven Sequestred from this Earth in purest light Out-shining ours as ours doth sable Night Thou all-sufficient Omnipotent Thou ever-glorious most excellent God various in Names in Essence one High art enstalled on a golden Throne Out-stretching Heavens wide bespangled vault Transcending all the Circles of our Thought With diamantine Scepter in thy Hand There thou giv'st Laws and dost this World command This World of Concords rais'd unlikely sweet Which like a Ball lies prostrate at thy Feet If so we may well say and what we say Here wrapt in flesh led by dim Reasons ray To show by earthly Beauties which we see That spirituall Excellence that shines in thee Good Lord forgive not far from thy right Side With curled Locks Youth ever doth abide Rose-cheeked Youth who gaâ—landed with Flow'rs Still blooming ceaselessely unto thee pow'rs Immortall Nectar in a cup of Gold That by no darts of Ages thou grow old And as ends and beginnings thee not claime Successionlesse that thou be still the same Neare to thy other side resistlesse Might From Head to Foot in burnisht Armour dight That rings about him with a waving Brand And watchfull Eye great Sentinell doth stand That neither Time nor force in ought impaire Thy Workmanship nor harme thine Empire faire Soone to give Death to all againe that would Sterne Discord raise which thou destroy'd of old Discord that foe to order Nurse of War By which the noblest things demolisht are But caitife she no Treason doth devise When Might to nought doth bring her enterprise Thy all-upholding Might her Malice raines And her to Hell throws bound in iron Chaines With Locks in waves of Gold that ebbe and flow On Ivory neck in Robes more white than Snow Truth stedfastly before thee holds a Glasse Indent'd with Gems where shineth all that was That is or shall be here ere ought was wrought Thou knew all that thy Pow'r with time forth brought And more things numberlesse which thou couldst make That actually shall never being take Here thou beholdst thy selfe and strange dost prove At once the Beauty Lover and the Love With Faces two like Sisters sweetly faire Whose Blossomes no rough Autumne can impaire Stands Providence and doth her looks disperse Through every Corner of this Universe Thy Providence at once which generall things And singular doth rule as Empires Kings Without whose care this world lost would remaine As Ship withou a Master in the Maine As Chariot alone as Bodies prove Depriv'd of Soules whereby they be live move But who are they which shine thy Throne so neare With sacred countenance and look severâ— This in one hand a pondrous Sword doth hold Her left staies charg'd with Ballances of Gold That with Brows girt with â—ays sweet-smiling Face Doth beare a Brandon with a babish grace Two milke-white Wings him easily do move O she thy Justice is and this thy Love By this thou brought'st this Engine great to light By that it fram'd in Number Measure Weight That destine doth reward to ill and good But Sway of Justice is by Love withstood Which did it not relent and mildly stay This World ere now had found its funerall Day What Bands enâ—â—â—ctred neare to thâ—se abide Which into vaste Infinity them hide Infinity that neither doth admiâ— Place Time nor Number to 〈◊〉 on it Here Bounty sparkleth here doth Beauty shine Simplicity more white than Gelsomine Mercy with open wings aye-varied Blisse Glory and Joy that Blisses darling is Ineffable all-pow'rfull God all free Thou only liv'st and each thing lives by thee No Joy no nor Perfection to thee came By the contriving of this Worlds great Frame Ere Sun Moon Stars began their restlesse race Ere painted was with light Heavens pâ—re Face Ere Aire had Clâ—uâ—s ere Clouds wept down their show'rs Ere Sea embraced Earth ere Earth bare Flow'rs Thou happy liv'dst World nought to thee supply'd All in thy selfe thy selfe thou satisfi'd Of Good no slender Shadow doth appeare No age-worne tâ—aâ—ke which shin'd in thee not cleare Perfections Sum prime-prime-cause of every Cause Midst end beginning where all good doth pause Hence of thy Substance differing in nought Thou in Eâ—ernity thy Son forth brought The only Birth of thy unchanging Mind Thine Image Pattern-like that ever shin'd Light out of Light begotten not by Will But Naâ—ure all and that same Essence still Which thou thy selfe for thou dost nought possesse Which he hath not in ought nor is he lesse Thâ—â— Thee his great Begâ—ttâ—â— of this Light Eternall Double kindled was thy Spright Eternally who is with Thee the same All-holy Gift Embassadour Knot Flame Most sacred Triad O most holy One Unprocreate Father â—ver-procreate Son Ghost breath'd from both you were are still shall be Most blessed Three in One and One in Three Uncomprehensible by reachlesse Hight And unperceived by excessive Light So in our Soules three and yet one are still The Vnderstanding Memory and Will So though unlike the Planet of the Daies So soone as he was made begat his Raies Which are his Off-spring and from both was hurld The rosie Light which consolates the World And none fore-went another so the spring The Well-head and the Streame which they forth bring Are but one selfe-same Essence not in ought Do differ save in order and our Thought No chime of Time discernes in them to fall But Three distinctly â—ide one Essence all But these expresse not Thee who can declare Thy being Men and Angels dazel'd are Who would this Eden force with wit or sense A Cherubin shall find to bar him thence Great Architect Lord of this Universe That light is blinded would thy Greatnesse pierce Ah! as a Pilgrim who the Alpes doth passe Or Atlas Temples crown'd
with winter glasse The ayry Caucasus the Apennine Pyrenes clifts where Sun doth never shine When he some craggy Hills hath ever-went Begins to thinke â—n rest his Journey spent Till mounting some tall Mountainâ— he do find More hights before him than he left behind With halting pace so while I would me raise To the unbounded limits of thy Praise Some part of way I thought to have o're-run But now I see how scarce I have begun With Wonders new my Spirits range possest And wandring waylesse in a maze them rest In these vaste Fields of Light etheriall Plaines Thou art attended by immortall Traines Of Intellectuall Pow'rs which thou broughtst forth To praise thy Goodnesse and admire thy Worth In numbers passing others Creatures far Since Creatures most noble maniest are Which do in knowledge us not lesse out-run Than Moon in light doth Stars or Moon the Sun Unlike in Orders rang'd and many a Band If Beauty in Disparity doth stand Arch-angels Angels Cherubs Seraphines And what with name of Thrones amongst them shines Large-ruling Princes Dominations Pow'rs All-acting Vertues of those flaming Tow'rs These freed of Umbrage these of Labour free Rest ravished with still beholding Thee Inflam'd with Beames which sparkle from thy Face They can no more desire far lesse embrace Low under them with slow and staggering pace Thy Hand-maid Nature thy great Steps doth trace The Source of second Causes golden Chaine That links this Frame as thou it doth ordaine Nature gaz'd on with such a curious Eye That Earthlings oft her deem'd a Deity By Nature led those Bodies faire and great Which faint not in their Course nor change their State Unintermixt which no disorder prove Though aye and contrary they alwaies move The Organs of thy Providence divine Books ever open Signâ—s that clearely shine Times purpled Maskers then do them advance As by sweet Musick in a measur'd dance Stars Hoste of Heaven ye Firmaments bright Flow'rs Cleare Lamps which overhang this Stage of ours Ye turne not there to deck the Weeds of Night Nor Pageant-like to please the vulgar Sight Great Causes sure ye must bring great Effects But who can descant right your grave Aspects He only who Yoâ— made decipher can Your Notes Heavens Eyes ye blind the Eyes of Man Amidst these Saphir far-extending Hights The never-twinkling ever-wandring Lights Their fixed Motions keep one dry and cold Deep-Leaden colour'd slowly there is roll'd With Rule and Line for Times steps meting even In twice three Lustres he but turnes his Heaven With temperate qualities and Countenance faire Still mildly smiling sweetly debonaire Another cheares the World and way doth make In twice sixe Autumnes through the Zodiack But hot and dry with flaming Locks and Brows Enrag'd this in his red Pavillion glows Together running with like speed â—f space Two equally in hands atchieve their race With blushing Face this oft doth bring the Day And ushers oft to stately Stars the way That various in vertue changing light With his small flame impearles the vaile of Night Prince of this Court the Sun in triumph rides With the Yeare Snake-like in her selfe that glides Times Dispensator faire life-giving Source Through Skies twelve Posts as he doth run his course Heart of this All of what is known to sence The likest to his Makers excellence In whose diurnall motion doth appeare A Shadow no true pourtrait of the Yeare The Moone moves lowest silver Sun of Night Dispersing through the World her borrow'd light Who in three formes her head abroad doth range And only constant is in constant Change Sad Queen of Silence I ne're see thy Face To waxe or waine or shine with a full grace But straight amaz'd on Man I think each Day His state who changeth or if he find Stay It is in dolefull anguish cares and paines And of his Labours Death is all the Gaines Immortall Monarch can so fond a Thought Lodge in my Brest as to trust thou first brought Here in Earths shady Cloyster wretched Man To suck the Aire of Woe to spend Lifes span ' Midst Sighs and Plaints a Stranger unto Mirth To give himselfe his Death rebucking Birth By sense and wit of Creatures made King By sense and wit to live their Underling And what is worst have Eaglets eyes to see His own disgrace and know an high degree Of Blâ—sse the Place if he might thereto clime And not live thralled to imperious Time Or dotard shall I so from Reason swerve To dim those Lights which to our use do serve For thou dost not them need more nobly fram'd Than us that know their course and have them nam'd No I ne're thinke but we did them surpasse As far as they do Asterismes of Glasse When thou us made by Treason high defil'd Thrust from our first estate we live exil'd Wandring this Earth which is of Death the Lot Where he doth use the Pow'r which he hath got Indifferent Umpire unto Clowns and Kings The supreame Monarch of all moâ—tall things When fiâ—st this flowry Oâ—be was to us given I but in place disvalu'd was to Heaven These Creatures which now our Soveraignes are And as to Rebels do denounce us war Then were our Vassals no tumultuous Storme No Thunders Earthquakes did her Forme deforme The Seas in tumbling Mountaines did not roare But like moist Christall whispered on the Shoare No Snake did trace her Meads nor ambusht lowre In azure Curles beneath the sweet-Spring Flow'r The Night shade Henbane Napell Aconite Her Bowels then not bare with Death to smite Her guiltlesse Brood thy Messengers of Grace As their high Rounds did haunt this lower Place O Joy of Joyes with our first Parents Thou To commune then didst daigâ—e as Friends do now Against thee we rebell'd and justly thus Each Creature rebelled against us Earth rest of what did chiefe in her excell To all became a Jaile to most a Hell In Times full Terme untill thy Son was given Who Man with Thee Earth reconcil'd with Heaven Whole and entire all in thy Selfe thou art All-where diffus'd yet of this All no part For infinite in making this faire Frame Great without Quantity in all thou came And filling all how can thy State admit Or Place or Substance to be void of it Were Worlds as many as the Rayes which streame From Daies bright lampe on madding Wits do dreame They would not reele in ought nor wandring stray But draw to Thee who could their Centers stay Were but one hours this World disjoyn'd from thee It in one houre to nought reduc'd should be For it thy Shadow is and can they last If sever'd from the Substances them cast O only blest and Author of all Blisse No Bliss it selfe that all where wished is Efficient exemplary finall Good Of thine own Selfe but only understood Light is thy Curtaine thou art Light of Light An ever-waking Eye still shining bright In-looking all exempt of passive Pow'r And change in change since Deaths pale shade doth low'r All Times to