Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	appear_v	life_n	sin_n	4,010	5	4.7063	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A61352	State-poems; continued from the time of O. Cromwel, to this present year 1697. Written by the greatest wits of the age, viz. The Lord Rochester, the Lord D-t, the Lord V-n, the hon. Mr. M-ue, Sir F. S-d, Mr. Milton, Mr. Prior, Mr. Stepney, Mr. Ayloffe, &c. With several poems in praise of Oliver Cromwel, in Latin and English, by D. South, D. Locke, Sir W. G-n, D. Crew, Mr. Busby, &c. Also some miscellany poems by the same, never before printed	Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. Hind and panther transvers'd to the story of the country-mouse and the city-mouse. aut; Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680. aut; University of Oxford.	1697 (1697)	Wing S5325A; ESTC R219192	116,138	256

Cadets that seldom did appear Damn'd to the stint of Thirty Pounds a Year With Hawk on Fist or Greyhound led in Hand They Dog and Foot-boy sometimes do command But now having trim'd a leash of spavin'd Horse With three hard-pincht-for Guineas in their Purse Two rusty Pistols scarfe about the Arse Coat lin'd with Red they here presum'd to swell This goes for Captain that for Collonel Ev'n so Bear-Garden-Ape on his Steed mounted No longer is a Jackanapes accounted But is by Virtue of his Trumpery then Call'd by the Name of the young Gentleman Bless me thought I what Thing is Man that thus In all his shapes he is ridiculous Our selves with noise of Reason we do please In vain Humanity's our worst Disease Thrice happy Beasts are who because they be Of Reason void are so of Poppery In Memory of Joseph Washington Esq late of the Middle Temple an Elegy Written by N. Tate Servant to Their Majesties CAN Learning's Orb when such a Star Expires No Notice take of it 's extinguish'd Fires Can Washington from Britain's Arms be torn And not one British Muse his Hearse Adorn Since abler Bards his Obsequies decline And They whom Art inspires desert his Shrine I 'll trust my Grief his Fun'ral Dirge to Breath I 'll Crown his Tomb tho' with a fading Wreath Nor shall the boasting Fates have this to say That unobserv'd they stole such Worth away No since Mankind a Loss in him sustain We 'll of that Wrong to all Mankind complain O whither tend the famish'd Hopes of Wit That do's whole Years in Brooding Study sit From Early Dawn till Day forsakes the Sky And Midnight Lamps the absent Sun supply Why should the Learn'd with Chymist's Patience wait Their Works Projection never gain'd till late If soon as got Fate 's riged Law must doom Them and their rich Discov'ry to one Tomb Why should we Ancient Arts steep Ruins Climb And backward Trace the Painful Steps of Time Why moil and ransack for a Golden Mite Past Ages Rubbish till we lose our Sight If baffled from the search we must Retire Or having seiz'd it o'er the Prize Expire In vain do's friendly Nature too Combine And with our Industry her Forces join In vain her Ablest Faculties are brought Quick Fancy Judgment to perfection wrought And Memory the Magazine of Thought Convincing Reason Charming Eloquence All these she did to Him we Mourn Dispence To Him who lies in Death's cold Arms enclos'd And leaves his Sacred Fame To such an Artless Song as mine Expos'd O for a Mausolaeum no less Tomb Can for his Merit 's History have Room Then let some Angel from the Realms of Light Descend the shining Epitaph to Write No Mortal Wit his Character may give Our Verse can only on his Marble live His Genius rival'd Rome's and Athen's Fame Breath'd Virgil's Majesty and Homer's Flame Touch'd the Horatian Lyre with equal Ease Sail'd with success on Tully's flowing Seas In Languages his Knowledge was sublime From Modern to the Speech of Infant-Time Thus from the sacred Oracles he drew Those Truths which scarce the Patriarchs better knew The Sages by Antiquity Admir'd Who justly to the Name of Wise Aspir'd In Speculation ne're cou'd soar so High Nor Contemplation to such Use apply For He his Life adjusting to his Thought Practis'd more Virtue than those Masters Taught His Soul of e'ry Science was the Sphere Yet Artless Honesty sat Regent there Bright Learning's Charms none better understood Yet less he study'd to be Learn'd than Good To Truth in Notion as in Practice just Ne'er servily his Knowledge took on Trust Nor held for Sacred Custom 's doating Dreams Disdain'd to drink Tradition's muddy Streams But to clear Principles had still Recourse Nor rested till he found the happy Source And then with gen'rous Charity possest His Country with the rich Discov'ry blest His Skill in Laws was less for private Gain Employ'd than publick Freedom to maintain While Mercenaries with the Current steer'd His Country's constant Patron he appear'd With Roman Virtue at the needful Hour Oppos'd encroaching Tides of Lawless Power His brandish'd Pen in Liberty's Support Cou'd Lightning on th' astonish'd Foe retort Scarcely in Marvel's keen Remarks we find Such Energy of Wit and Reason join'd Great Milton's shade with pleasure oft look'd down A Genius to applaud so like his Own FRIENDSHIP I. WHen Souls unite in generous Friendship joyn'd By a Reciprocal Exchange of Hearts The Ciment which do's the Contexture bind Arises from a Sympathy in Parts II. 'T is not the Work of Interest or Force But Nature all things to their Like does move Love is true Friendships Origine and Source Similitude the truest Cause of Love III. Soon as each Object does its self display At the first view such mutual Charms appear Tho' Distance or Disasters stop the way Yet still they Wish and Covet to be near IV. Their Motions and Desires are the same This no design to that unknown does move Both their Affections shine with equal Flame By Nature kindled and supply'd by Love V. A Pair of Souls in sweet Conjunction One Safe in each others Bosom they confide Have neither Joy nor Grief that 's singly known But both alike the common Care divide VI. Friendship on such a Basis built shall grow And like the Eagle still its youth renew Time in the Building no defect can show Nor Wit or Malice the strong Knot undo VII Thus sturdy Oaks from small Beginnings grow Which when in Earth have deeply taken root Play with those Winds that weaker Trees o'rethrow Whilst up to Heaven the Lofty Branches shoot The WISH I. AS Leaves which from the Trees blown down Are scorch'd and shrivel'd by the Sun Or Lillies which the Virgins crop Contract their Beauty die and droop So when I on Dorinda look I strait am with the Lightning strook But if I gaze a while and stay I melt insensibly away II. But then as soft and gentle Showers Renew old Life in dying Flowers Or Dew shed on the Womb of Earth Does give the early Blossoms birth So if Dorinda sheds a Tear New strength and motion does appear But if she balmy Kisses gives My Soul returns again and lives III. Therefore my Dear since Life and Death Depend at once upon your Breath Since what your Eyes of Life deprive Your Kisses heal and do revive Kill and destroy me as you please For only then my Mind 's at ease When your Eyes and Lips contrive To make me often Die and Live The Deliverance I. CElia now my Heart has broke The bands of your ungentle Yoke Dissolv'd the Fetters of that Chain With which it strove so long in vain The Devil take me if I e're Am trapp'd again within your snare II. In vain you spread the treacherous Net In vain your secret Toils are set The Bird can now your Arts espy And wing'd with Caution from 'em fly Some heedless Heart your Prey may be But Faith you 're too well known

Old Satan his Associate too must stand Behind his Chair to guide his heart and hand Draw him stuck round with all the Toys that come From the grand Mint of Lies old foppish Rome Bulls Dispensations Pardons all the baits He lays for the dull Crowd the Book of Rates Will be convenient too that of every Sin The value may be known pray cram them in Draw him dispersing with a bounteous hand For horrid Ends the Treasures of his land Dispensing with false Oaths o● any thing So that they 'll murther Charles Great-Britain's King Poor Fool to think the Guardian of his Throne Is grown so dull and senseless as his own No proud Imposture no thy Hand 's too short To reach his Head or make his fall thy sport Next draw proud France and his ambitious hope Of being mighty cringing to the Pope 'T is not his Zeal to him or to his Laws That cheats the World this his Affection draws 'T is Interest mighty Interest bears the sway He dare not tho he 's willing disobey Base Prince and foolish too your self you cheat When on such Terms as these you would be great You feast your senses at such costly Rates That nothing else can serve but Delicates Dipt in the Blood of Princes Death of Kings In your Opinion are but vulgar things If thirst of Empire sway'd a generous Soul These base low tricks could never sure controul But when a Mind 's so firm on mischief bent No thoughts of Honour can its Crimes prevent In meanest Actions Princes should be true And act on principles of Honour too Then they are sacred to the World and ought To be ador'd then Disrespect's a Fault But when both base degenerate they 're grown The Vulgar hurl them headlong from the Throne Go on vile Prince in all these Arts and try How soon your Crown will fade your Empire die By your Example your own Subjects teach To strike at Empire and at Sceptres reach And may their first attempt be on thy Head Dethrone thee first of all then strike thee dead Now Painter to our Subject dip thy Pen In black in horrid black yet once agen For when a Subject from a King revolts Conspires his Death and thinks these things no faults The Scene must needs be horrid first begin With Bel s his foul ungrateful sin Draw him a Monster in as foul a dress As e'er your heart can think or hand express Long did he in his Prince's bosome lie One would have thought void of all Treachery For what base Man but he could e'er conspire To set that house wherein he lives on fire Who would such Treasons harbour in his breast 'Gainst th' best of Princes and to him the best The other Lords must on the stage be led Draw out each Man with Halter on his head And Dagger in his heart with which in vain They often strove to stab their Sovereign Base Rascals do you thus your Prince reward Have you no Honour left or no Regard To Clemency which some of you I know Have tasted or y 'had dy'd for 't long ago Had he been cruel or Tyrannick grown You 'd had more reason to usurp his Throne But to a gracious and obliging Prince 'T is past all hopes of pardon or defence Now Painter draw me Hell in all its heat Let sulphurous Flames and dismal Darkness meet Draw S ley Col n and the Jesuits And in the hottest place as best befits Let them endure the flaming Brimstones Rage These bloody trayterous Miscreants of our Age. These were the Men design'd oh bloody Act Nay were resolv'd on to commit the fact Base Rebels don't you know that Heaven's high hand Has ever kept the Monarch of our Land And could you think to move our Scene and do What Heaven 's high Lord had ne'er consented to Burn on vile Wretches think well on these things What Treason is what 't is to murther Kings Now draw in all his Majesty and State Our Sovereign Prince just rising from his Fate Pray paint him laughing at the Follies done By th' Pope and France his most unchristian Son Prithee old Fellow prithee tell me why Old England should so much disturb thy Eye Is it because we do not doat on you And worship all your Saints we never knew If these Old Man your Aggravations be Know we defie thy Malice Imps and Thee Stafford 's Ghost February 1682. IS this the Heavenly Crown Are these the Joys Which bellowing Priests did promise with such noise Charming my Fears with such lewd Words as these A Saint a Martyr Bliss Eternal Ease Such promis'd Glories were for meaner Deeds He 's trebly blest by whom our Monarch bleeds Curs'd Priests did me with other Fools delude Brib'd with their Gifts of the Beatitude Had I that Life so unadvis'dly lost 'T is not your fawning Jesuitish Host Should e'er prevail on my misguided sense To smother Guilt with Vows of Innocence Nor thou false Friend as false to me or more Than all thy Oaths for Coleman's Life before With thy true Catholick protesting Breath Shouldst e'er betray me to a perjur'd Death Blinded with Zeal what did we once admire A sulph'rous Soul by Jesuits set on fire A head-strong stupid rash bigotted Prince Declar'd the open Enemy to Sense Weak are the sacred Ties that should attend The Name of Sov'reign Brother and of Friend This pious Sampson would with Joy o'erthrow The Universe and perish by the blow His Plots tho known yet he will ne'er give o'er But still Intriegues with his dear Babel Whore So much infected by that Fatal Bitch He 's all broke out in scabby Zeal and Itch. Could we distinctly view his tainted Soul That all the Relicks of S were small Compar'd with th' Scars of his P spiritual 'T is not the powerful Force of Iordan's Streams Nor his dear Purgatories cleansing Flames Can e'er remove from his polluted Soul The least remains of a Disease so foul You 'll say 't is hard that such a one as he Should be depriv'd of Naaman's Remedy But there 's Distinction to be made I hope 'Twixt those that worship Rimmon and the Pope Amends for my intended Crimes I make If Charles from his Lethargick Sleep I wake But such a Dose of Opiats they have given To rouse him were a Miracle for Heaven I hope tho when he hears what I can tell Success may crown my Embassy from Hell I 'll boldly name those that pursue his Life And 'mongst his Subjects fester endless Strife Their Friends and their Advisers I 'll reveal Those Holy Men that toucht with pious Zeal Are such Well-wishers to the Common Weal York's most belov'd and boldest Friend is he Who knows he must succeed by Gadbury Yet some with Wonder are surpris'd to find That in the Loyal Ague of his Mind His hot fit comes in such a proper time Whose cold one thought the Covenant no Crime The next a Slave to his Ambitious Pride Must be the chief tho of

gray Hairs Make a meer Dunce of all thy threescore Years What in that tedious Poem hast thou done But cramm'd all Aesop's Fables into one But why do I the precious Minutes spend On him that wou'd much rather hang than mend No Wretch continue still just as thou art Thou' rt now in this last Scene that Crowns thy part To purchase Favour veer with every Gale And against Interest never cease to Rail Tho thou' rt the only proof how Interest can prevail On the Bishops Confinement WHere is there Faith and Justice to be found Sure the World trembles Nature's in a swound To see her Pious Sons design'd to fall A Victim to Religion Truth and all The Charms of Piety are no Defence Against the new-found Power that can Dispence With Laws to Murder Sacred Innocence Surely unless some pitying God look down And stem this Torrent it will shortly drown Divinity it self The Bishops Prisoners Can we tamely see Those Reverend Prelates bow the Knee To Antichrist No mighty Monarch no Though we must pay to Caesar what we owe There is a Power Supream by which you live Whose Arm is longer and Prerogative Larger by far than yours whose very Word Can blast your Hopes and turn your two-edg'd Sword Can make his Secular Vicegerent know Virtue like Palms deprest do higher grow Though Rob'd in all the Grandeur of your State Courtiers like Radiant Stars about you wait ' Midst of your glorious Joys when you put on That awful Presence which becomes a Throne Belshazzar like three Words upon the Wall Shall blast your Joys and make your Glories fall His Holiness that Patriot of Strife Though he can grant you Pardons cannot Life Arise then Mighty Sir in God-like Mien As of thy Valour let thy Truth be seen Free from Mistrust let all your Words be clear By Actions let your Promises appear Protect that Church which brought you to the Crown You know 't is Great and Honourable to own A kindness done but to reward with Death That happy Instrument that gave you Breath Is mean and might a Cath'lick's Conscience Sting To cut the Hand off that Anoints you King Advice to the Prince of Orange and the Packet-Boat returned Adv. THE year of Wonder now is come A Jubilee proclaim at Rome The Church has pregnant made the Womb. Pac. No more of the admired Year No more of Jubilee declare All Trees that blossom do not bear Adv. Orange give o're your hopes of Crowns And yield to France the Belgick Towns And keep your Fleet out of the Downs Pac. We 'll wait for Crowns not Interest quit Let Lewis take what he can get And do not you proscribe our Fleet. Adv. Ye talk of Eighty Men of War Well Rigg'd and Mann'd you say they are 'T was joyful News when it came here Pac. Well may the sound of Eighty Sail Make England's greatest Courage fail When half the number will prevail Adv. But we have some upon the Stocks And others laid up in our Docks Well fitted out would match your Cocks Pac. Talk not as if you 'd match our Cocks And Launch your few Ships on the Stocks And if you can secure your Docks Adv. Besides we 've call'd our Subjects home Which in your Fleet and Army rome But you they say won't let them come Pac. Your Subjects in our Camp and Fleet Whom you with Proclamation greet Will all obey when they think fit Adv. Soldiers and Seamen both we need Old England's quite out of the Breed Feather and Scarf won't do the deed Pac. Of Men and Arms never despair The Civiliz'd Wild Irish are Couragious even to Massacre Adv. Now if you 'd be Victorious made Like us on Hounslow Masquerade Advance your Honour and your Trade Pac. Then take this Counsel back again Leave off to mimick in Campaign And fight in earnest on the Main Adv. Buda we storm'd and took 't with ease Do you the same upon the Seas And then we 'll meet you when you please Pac. The storming Buda does declare That you the glorious Off-spring are Of them that made all Europe fear Adv. Such Warlike Actions will at least Inspire each neighbouring Monarch's breast Till Lewis shall compleat the rest Pac. Such Camp such Siege and such sham Shews Make each small State your pow'r oppose And Lewis lead you by the Nose A Stanza lately put upon Tyburn HAil Reverend Tripos Guardian of the Law Sacred to Justice Treasons greatest awe Do thou decide the Nations weighty cause And judge between the Judges and the Laws So shall no guiltless Blood thy Timber e're pollute But Righteous Laws shall vouch all thou shalt execute Harry Care 's last Will and Testament NOT Hell it self nor Gloomy Fate can save The lewdest Sinner from his Destin'd Grave But all the sooty Surges once must try Old Charon's Boat 's a certain Destiny This Harry found whose mouldring Corps did call For Physick-props t' uphold the human Wall Thinking himself to Ne plus ultra come He thought of Winding Sheets and of his Tomb Summon'd his glorious Kindred to appear To see his last and his last Will to hear The Weeping Crowd the mournful Chambers fill While he in dying Accents makes his Will Imprimis For my Soul if such I have I wish it buri'd with me in my Grave For if what great Divines do preach and tell Be real Verities of Heaven and Hell Down to the gloomy Shores I surely go The same I serv'd above must serve below And next for my dear Wife who Weeps my fall And is chief Mourner at my Funeral My sole Executrix I do here make And let her all my Goods and Chattels take Besides my Province too let her command That undiscover'd lies in Fairy-Land To her my unsold Pamphlets I bequeath To buy her Brandy and Tobacco with And if she do a Male or Stallion take I hope he 'll use her kindly for my sake With equal Strength the Marriage-Yoke she 'll draw If he but drench her well with Usquebagh My Daughter next the Off-spring of my Bed I pour a double Blessing on her Head The only Legacy I can bestow And more than Heav'n gave me here below May she the Irish Witness wed and raise A Race of Evidences for our Cause And for those kinder Folks that propt my Pains I freely leave them both my Pen and Brains May they my little Artifices use To raise up Factions and the Crowd amuse Till being doubly dipt in Infamy Like me unpitied and unenvy'd dye Now to the num'rous Crowd that do's survive I only can my dying-Counsel give The Western Emissaries I approve And even dying do declare my Love I charge them to stand firm unto their Trust Accounting what 's their Interest to be Just. The Females I commend to Brother Cox Who if he cannot cure can give the Pox And may he still the vigorous warmth retain T' impart to stroaling She in Street or Lane I 've nothing more to give to all the

He can be grave not only please but teach As well as any Grecian Master preach His Rules of Poetry the means impart How the best Genius may be helpt by Art Here you may learn correctly how to Write To a true edge your Style and Judgment set His Satyr form'd above the common size Lays Railing by and Jeers you out of Vice But if your Thoughts are more devoutly set Then for a Page or two in a Sacred Writ This little Book does at one view contain What Grecian Sages blindly sought in vain The Worlds Creation and the Fall of Man And how the Tincture of his Sin could be Deriv'd on his Unborn Posterity How he entail'd a double Death on Man Whence Physick and Divinity began How after several rowling Periods past With an Incarnate God the World was blest Who to poor Man bowels of Mercy bore And Death disarm'd of all its Sting and Power Redeem'd the captive Wretch from Sin and Hell And plac'd him higher than whence at first he fell Remov'd his Seat from Earth to Heaven with power Of never sinning never falling more With watchful Providence our gracious Lord From Foes of every sort his Church does guard Heaven ha'nt indeed thought fit that we shou'd be From Sin much less from Error wholly free Lest we on disappearance of a Foe Throw by our Arms careless of danger grow Thus vanquisht Carthage 't was thought fit to spare To keep Rome's Martial Spirits still in fear But if a Friend comes in the Book 's thrown by A Bottle better suits in Company Boy reach that Flask here Come Sir if you please Here 's to the King and both the Princesses Another Health to the Establisht Church Hang him who does that or his Liquor lurch Bless me it warms I fell the potent Juice Its winged fires thro' every Vein diffuse What Magick in the Grape what Charms in Wine That to such various Humours Men incline Pander to Lust Midwife to Mirth and Wit Thou mak'st old Friends fall out and Cowards fight The Captive full of Thee forgets his Chains With Thee the Beggar flusht in Fancy reigns The Dutch at Sea Death in the face will stare Their Senses steept in Nants and Gunpowder The Sun by this a good way on his Road The cool and lengthned Shades invite abroad Whether we ride or walk through Woods or Plains The winged Choir divert us with their strains Here Sights to Citts unknown the time beguile Viewing the various kinds of Rural Toil For one's a Haying with unwearied Pains Amidst a jolly crew of Sun-burnt Swains Another plies the Plough for Grain and Food Some distance off a third's a felling Wood. The pretty painful Bee by nature blest With foresight is as busie as the best Along the Fields in bands they take their flight Returning home laden with Spoils at night Here 's one i' th' School of Patience thro'ly try'd Thoughtfully Angling by a River side After six tedious hours lose or get He still keeps on half starv'd and thorough wet Fishing he 'll tell you is its own Reward Give him but Bites Fish is his least regard But now a Pack of Dogs alarms our Ears Musick that Hunters say exceeds the Spheres O'er Hill and Dale with full mouth'd Cry they run To the known sound of Hollow or of Horn. The Deer no safety in their Coverts find And Reynolds stands to rights before the Wind. As for the timerous Hare away she flings Before the Dogs 't was fear first gave her Wings From this Diversion strait we 're call'd aside To view the soaring Hawk's delightful pride How thro' that Sea of Air the Bird of Prey With Wings instead of Sails divides his way The lesser Birds clap on more sail and fly It looks just like a running Fight at Sea At this mean Prize he makes his humble stoop Like Algerine at some poor Pink or Sloop Besides all this to close the lovely Scene Each Night there 's constant Dancing on the Green Persons of highest Rank-stuck round the Ring Lustre and Grace to the Diversion bring While Lads and Lasses forth in pairs advance Musick keeps time to the well-measured Dance Not finer Virgins flockt to those feign'd Games When Rome's bold Youth so roughly woo'd the Sabian Dames Tir'd but not cloy'd with this and such-like Sport Home to our Rest and Lodgings we resort And here we lie free from the dismal noise Of Coaches Midnight-Fires and Bellman's Voice Here we in safe security are blest And naught but Conscience to disturb our Rest. Refresht with sleep next Morn again we rig Nothing remains of Yesterdays Fatigue Thus Friend from Grief and Care we purge our Head In such a constant round of Pleasures tread That Mecca's Prophet in his Paradise Has hardly past his word for more than this But Oh my Muse Oh whether wilt thou lead Forbear 't is hallow'd Ground on which we tread Methinks I hear the Poets of the Town Thus schooling me with a censorious Frown Free of the Ham●urgh or the Guinea Trade You ought not yet the Poets Rights invade Whose jealous Company no more allows Of Interlopers than the India House The Toleration Tradesmen may admit For the high Calling of a Preacher fit But Poetry no gifted Brother knows Who from a Merchant strait an Upstart Author grows Go home fond man and mind a better Game Than trading thus to the wild Coasts of Fame Go count your Cash your Merchandize pursue At once bid Poetry and Friend Adieu An Essay on Writing and the Art and Mystery of Printing A Translation out of the Anthology WOrthy that Man to 'scape Mortality And leap that Ditch where all must plunging lie Who found out Letters first and did impart With Dextrous Skill Writing's Mysterious Art In Characters to hold Intelligence And to express the Mind 's most hidden Sense The Indian Slave I 'm sure might wonder well How the dumb Papers cou'd his Theft reveal The Stupid World admir'd the secret Cause Of the Tongue 's Commerce without help of Voice That merely by a Pen it cou'd reveal And all the Soul 's abstrusest Notions tell The Pen like Plowshare on the Paper 's Face With Black and Magick Tracks its way does trace Assisted only by that Useful Quill Pluck'd from the Geese that sav'd the Capitol First Writing-Tables Paper 's Place supply'd 'Till Parchment and Nilotick Reeds were try'd Parchment the Skins of Beasts well scrap'd and drest By these poor Helps of old the Mind exprest But After-times a better way did go A lasting sort of Paper white as Snow Compos'd of Rags well pounded in a Mill Proof against all but Fire and the Moths Spoil What poor beginnings these The Silk-Worm there Had nought to do no Silken-Threads were here But Rags from Doors pick'd part from Dung-hills part Marsht in a Mill gave Rise to this fine Art Which in an instant gives a speedy Birth To Virgil's Books the rarest Work on Earth But still an Art from Heaven was to come

to me III. I now can with Contempt despise The feeble Witchcraft of your Eyes Without concern can sit and hear You prattle Nonsence half a Year And go away as little mov'd As you was lately when I Lov'd IV. I wonder what the Devil 't was That made me such a stupid Ass. To fancy such a Charming Grace In your Language Mein and Face Since now I nothing more can find Than what I see in all your kind V. Thus when the drowsy God of Sleep Does o're our weary Senses creep Some curious Piece of Imag'ry By Fancy wrought delude the Eye But when we wake th' Approach of Day Scares the airy Form away Song Ex Tempore THey talk of Raptures Flames and Darts Of burning Feavers in their Hearts Of Gods of Love in Womens Eyes Which Please and Ravish and Surprize How they Admire Love Adore With thousand other Wonders more But I cou'd ne're in Woman-kind Those dazling Charms and Lustre find Which shou'd in spite of Reason prove Sufficient to engage my Love Whilst Kind I love but when Untrue I leave 'em Faith and grow so too When once they Coy and Foolish be They may go hang Themselves for Me I Love my Bottle and my Friend No other Love I understand Of Solitude I. O! Solitude my swetest Choice Places devoted to the Night Remote from tumult and from Noise How you may restless Thoughts delight O Heavens what content is mine To see those Trees which have appear'd From the Nativity of Time And which all Ages have review'd To look to day as fresh and green As when their Beauties first were seen II. A chearful Wind does court them so And with such amorous Breath enfold That we by nothing else can know But by their Height that they are Old Hither the Demi-Gods did Fly To seek a Sanctuary when Displeased Iove once pierc'd the Sky To pour a Deluge upon Men And on these Boughs themselves did save Whence they could hardly see a Wave III. Sad Philomel upon this Thorn So curiously by Flora drest In melting Notes her case Forlorn To entertain me hath confess'd O! how agreeable a Sight These hanging Mountains do appear Which the Unhappy would invite To finish all their Sorrows here When their hard Fate makes them endure Such Woes as only Death can Cure IV. What pretty Desolations make These Torrents Vagabond and Fierce Who in vast heaps their Springs forsake This solitary Vale to peirce Then sliding just as Serpents do Under the Foot of every Tree Themselves are chang'd to Rivers too Wherein some stately Nayade As in her native Bed is grown A Queen upon a Chrystal Throne V. This Den beset with River-Plants O! How it does my Senses Charm Nor Elders Reeds nor Willows want Which the sharp Steel did never harm Here Nymphs which come to take the Air May with such Distaffs furnish'd be As Flags and Rushes can prepare Where we the nimble Frogs may see Who frighted to retreat do fly If an approaching Man they spy VI. Here Water-Foul repose enjoy Without the interrupting care Lest Fortune should their Bliss destroy By the malicious Fowlers Snare Some Ravish'd with so bright a Day Their Feathers finely Prune and Deck Others their Amorous Heats allay Which yet the Waters could not check All take their innocent Content In this their lovely Element VII Summer's nor Winter's bold approach This Stream did never entertain Nor ever felt a Boat or Coach Whilst either Season did remain No thirsty Traveller came neer And rudely made his Hand his Cup Nor any hunted Hind hath here Her hopeless Life resigned up Nor ever did the treacherous Hook Intrude to empty any Brook VIII What Beauty is there in the sight Of these old ruin'd Castle Walls In which the utmost Rage and Spight Of Times worst Insurrection falls The Witches keep their Sabbath here And wanton Divels make retreat Who in malicious Sport appear Our Senses both t' afflict and cheat And here within a thousand Holes Are nests of Adders and of Owls IX The Raven with his dismal cries That mortal Augury of Fate Those ghastly Goblins gratifies Which in these gloomy Places wait On a curs'd Tree the Wind does move A Carcass which did once belong To one that Hang'd himself for Love Of a fair Nymph that did him wrong Who though she saw his Love and Truth With one Look would not save the Youth X. But Heaven which judgeth equally And its own Laws will still Maintain Rewarded soon her Cruelty With a deserv'd and mighty Pain About this squalid heap of Bones Her wandring and condemning Shade Laments in long and piercing Groans The Destiny her rigour made And farther to Augment her Fright Her Crime is ever in her Sight XI There upon Antick Marble trac'd Devices of Pastimes we see Here Age has almost quite Defac'd What Lovers Carv'd on every Tree The Cellar here the highest Room Receives when it's Rasters fail Soil'd with the Venom and the Foam Of the sly Spyder and the Snail And th' Ivy in the Chimney we Find shaded by a Walnut Tree XII Below there does a Cave extend Wherein there is so dark a Grot That should the Sun himself descend I think he could not see a Jot Here Sleep within a heavy lid In quiet sadness locks up Sense And every Care he does forbid Whilst in the Arms of Negligence Lazily on his Back he 's spread And sheaves of Poppey are his Bed XIII Within this cool and hallow Cave Where Love it self might turn to Ice Poor Eccho ceases not to Rave On her Narcissus wild and nice Hither I softly steal a Thought And by the softer Musick made With a sweet Lute in Charms well taught Sometimes I flatter her sad shade Whilst of my Chords I make such choice To serve as Body to her Voice XIV When from these Ruins I retire This horrid Rock I do invade Whose lofty brow seems to enquire Of what materials mists are made From thence dissending leisurely Under the brow of this steep Hill It with great pleasure I descry By waters undermin'd until They to Palaemon's Seat did Climb Compos'd of Spunges and of Slime XV. How highly is the Fancy pleas'd To be upon the Oceans Shore When she begins to be appeas'd And her fierce Billows cease to Roar And when the hairy Tritons are Riding upon the shaken Wave With what strange sound they strike the Air Of their Trumpets hoarse and brave Whose shrill Report does every wind Unto his due submission bind XVI Sometimes the Sea dispels the Sand Trembling and Murmuring in the Bay And rowls it self upon the shells Which it both bring and take away Sometimes exposes on the Strand Th' effects of Neptune's Rage and Scorn Drown'd Men dead Monsters cast on Land And Ships that were in Tempests torn With Diamonds and Amber-greece And many more such things as these XVII Sometimes so sweetly she does smile A floating Mirrour she might be And you would fancy all that while New Heavens