next Morning vig'rous for the Fight Fresh as the Day and active as the Light No Maid that ever under me took pay From my Embrace went unoblig'd away Bless'd he who in Loves service yields his Breath Grant me ye Gods so sweet to wish'd a Death In bloudy Fields let Souldiers meet their Fate To purchase dear bought Honour at the rate Let greedy Merchants trust the faithless Main And shipwrack Life and Soul for sordid gain Dying let me expire in gasps of Lust And in a gush of Joy give up the Ghost And some kind pitying Friend shall say of me So did he live and so deserv'd to die A FRAGMENT of PETRONIUS PARAPHRAS'D Foeda est in coitu brevis voluptas c. I Hate Fruition now 't is past 'T is all but nastiness at best The homeliest thing that man can do Besides 't is short and fleeting too A squirt of slippery Delight That with a moment takes its flight A fulsom Bliss that soon does cloy And makes us loath what we enjoy Then let us not too eager run By Passion blindly hurried on Like Beasts who nothing better know Than what meer Lust 〈◊〉 them to For when in Flouds of Love we 're dronch'd The Flames are by enjoyment quench'd But thus let 's thus together lie And kiss out long Eternity Here we dread no conscious Spies No blushes stain our guiltless Joys Here no Faintness dulls Desires And Pleasure never flags nor tires This has pleas'd and pleases now And for Ages will do so Enjoyment here is never done But fresh and always but begun AN ODE OF ANACREON PARAPHRAS'D The CUP 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. MAke me a Bowl a mighty Bowl Large as my capacious Soul Vast as my thirst is let it have Depth enough to be my Grave I mean the Grave of all my Care For I intend to bury't there Let it of Silver fashion'd be Worthy of Wine worthy of me Worthy to adorn the Spheres As that bright Cup amongst the Stars That Cup which Heaven deign'd a place Next the Sun its greatest Grace Kind Cup that to the Stars did go To light poor Drunkards her below Let mine be so and give me light That I may drink and revel by 't Yet draw no shapes of Armour there No Cask nor Shield nor Sword nor Spear Nor Wars of Thebes nor Wars of Troy Nor any other martial Toy For what do I vain Armour prize Who mind not such rough Exercise But gentler Sieges softer Wars Fights that cause no Wounds or Scars I 'll have no Battels on my Plate Lest sight of them should Brawls create Lest that provoke to Quarrels too Which Wine it self enough can do Draw me no Constellations there No Ram nor Bull nor Dog nor Bear Nor any of that monstrous fry Of Animals which stock the sky For what are Stars to my Design Stars which I when drunk out-shine Out-shone by every drop of Wine I lack no Pole-Star on the Brink To guide in the wide Sea of Drink But would for ever there be tost And wish no Haven seek no Coast. Yet Gentle Artist if thou 'lt try Thy Skill then draw me let me see Draw me first a spreading Vine Make its Arms the Bowl entwine With kind embraces such as I Twist about my loving she Let its Boughs o're-spread above Scenes of Drinking Scenes of Love Draw next the Patron of that Tree Draw Bacchus and sost Cupid by Draw them both in toping Shapes Their Temples crown'd with cluster'd Grapes Make them lean against the Cup As 't were to keep their Figures up And when their reeling Forms I view I 'll think them drunk and be so too The Gods shall my examples be The Gods thus drunk in Effigy An Allusion to MARTIAL BOOK I. EPIG 118. AS oft Sir Tradewel as we meet You 're sure to ask me in the street When you shall send your Boy to me To fetch my Book of Poetry And promise you 'l but read it o're And faithfully the Loan restore But let me ye as a Friend You need not take the pains to send 'T is a long way to where I dwell At farther end of Clarkenwel There in a Garret near the Sky Above five pair of Stairs I lie But if you 'd have what you pretend You may procure it nearer hand In Cornhil where you often go Hard by th' Exchange there is you know A Shop of Rhime where you may see The Posts all clad in Poetry There H lives of high renown The noted'st TORY in the Town Where if you please enquire for me And he or 's Prentice presently From the next Shelf will reach you down The Piece well bound for half a Crown The Price is much too dear you cry To give for both the Book and me Yes doubtless for such vanities We know Sir you are too too wise THE DREAM Written March 10. 1677. LAte as I on my Bed reposing lay And in soft sleep forgot the Toils of Day My self my Cares and Love all charm'd to Rest And all the Tumults of my waking Breast Quiet and calm as was the silent Night Whose stillness did to that bless'd sleep invite I dreamt and strait this visionary Scene Did with Delight my Fancy entertain I saw methought a lonely Privacy Remote alike from man's and Heavens Eye Girt with the covert of a shady Grove Dark as my thoughts and secret as my Love Hard by a Stream did with that softness creep As 't were by its own murmurs husht asleep On its green Bank under a spreading Tree At once a pleasant and a shelt'ring Canopy There I and there my dear Cosmelia sate Nor envied Monarchs in our safe Retreat So heretofore were the first Lovers laid On the same Turf of which themselves were made A while I did her charming Glories view Which to their former Conquests added new A while my wanton hand was pleas'd to rove Through all the hidden Labyrinths of Love Ten thousand Kisses on her Lips I fix'd Which she with interfering Kisses mix'd Eager as those of Lovers are in Death When they give up their Souls too with the Breath Love by these Freedoms first became more bold At length unruly and too fierce to hold See then said I and pity charming Fair Yield quickly yield I can no longer bear Th' impatient Sallies of a Bliss so near Tou must and you alone these storms appease And lay those Spirits which your Charms could raise Come and in equal Flouds let 's quench our Flame Come let 's and unawares I went to name The Thing but stopt and blusht methought in Dream At first she did the rude Address disown And check'd my Boldness with an angry Frown But yielding Glances and consenting Eyes Prov'd the soft Traitors to her forc'd Disguise And soon her looks with anger rough e're while Sunk in the dimples of a calmer smile Then with a sigh into these words she broke And printed melting Kisses as she spoke Too strong Philander is thy
Had I bin Man and the great Act to do H 'ad dy'd by this and bin what I am now Or what His Father is I would leap Hell To reach His Life tho in the midst I fell And deeper than before Let rabble Souls of narrow aim and reach Stoop their vile Necks and dull Obedience preach Let them with slavish aw disdain'd by me Adore the purple Rag of Majesty And think 't a sacred Relick of the Sky Well may such Fools a base Subjection own Vassals to every Ass that loads a Throne Unlike the soul with which proud I was born Who could that sneaking thing a Monarch scorn Spurn off a Crown and set my foot in sport Upon the head that wore it trod in dirt But say what is 't that binds your hands do's fear From such a glorious action you deter Or is 't Religion but you sure disclaim That frivolous pretence that empty name Meer bugbear word devis'd by Us to scare The sensless rout to slavishness and fear Ne're know to aw the brave and those that dare Such weak and feeble things may serve for checks To rein and curb base-mettled Hereticks Dull creatures whose nice bogling consciences Startle or strain at such slight crimes as these Such whom fond inbred honesty befools Or that old musty piece the Bible gulls That hated Book the bulwark of our foes Whereby they still uphold their tott'ring cause Let no such toys mislead you from the road Of glory nor infect your Souls with good Let never bold incroaching Virtue dare With her grim holy face to enter there No not in very Dream have only will Like Fiends and Me to covet and act ill Let true substantial wickedness take place Usurp and Reign let it the very trace If any yet be left of good deface If ever qualms of inward cowardice The things which some dull sots call conscience rise Let them in streams of Blood and slaughter drown Or with new weights of guilt still press 'em down Shame Faith Religion Honor Loyalty Nature it self whatever checks there be To loose and uncontrol'd impiety Be all extinct in you own no remorse But that you 've balk'd a sin have been no worse Or too much pity shewn Be diligent in Mischiefs Trade be each Performing as a Dev'l nor stick to reach At Crimes most dangerous where bold despair Mad lust and heedless blind revenge would ne're Ev'n look march you without a blush or fear Inflam'd by all the hazards that oppose And firm as burning Martyrs to your Cause Then you 're true Jesuits then you 're fit to be Disciples of great Loyola and Me Worthy to undertake worthy a Plot Like this and fit to scourge an Huguenot Plagues on that Name may swift confusion seize And utterly blot out the cursed Race Thrice damn'd be that Apostate Monk from whom Sprung first these Enemies of Us and Rome Whose pois'nous Filth dropt from ingend'ring Brain By monstrous Birth did the vile Insects spawn Which now infest each Country and defile With their o'respreading swarms this goodly I le Once it was ours and subject to our Yoke Till a late reigning Witch th' Enchantment broke It shall again Hell and I say 't have ye But courage to make good the Prophesie Not Fate it self shall hinder Too sparing was the time too mild the day When our great Mary bore the English sway Unqueen-like pity marr'd her Royal Pow'r Nor was her Purple dy'd enough in Gore Four or five hundred such like petty sum Might fall perhaps a Sacrifice to Rome Scarce worth the naming had I had the Pow'r Or been thought fit t' have been her Counsellor She shou'd have rais'd it to a nobler score Big Bonfires should have blaz'd and shone each day To tell our Triumphs and make bright our way And when 't was dark in every Lane and Street Thick flaming Hereticks should serve to light And save the needless Charge of Links by night Smithfield should still have kept a constant fire Which never should be quench'd never expire But with the lives of all the miscreant rout Till the last gasping breath had blown it out So Nero did such was the prudent course Taken by all his mighty Successors To tame like Hereticks of old by force They scorn'd dull reason and pedantick rules To conquer and reduce the harden'd Fools Racks Gibbets Halters were their arguments Which did most undeniably convince Grave bearded Lions manag'd the dispute And reverend Bears their Doctrines did consute And all who would stand out in stiff defence They gently claw'd and worried into sense Better than all our Sorbon dotards now Who would by dint of words our Foes subdue This was the rigid Discipline of old Which modern sots for Persecution hold Of which dull Annalists in story tell Strange Legends and huge bulky Volumes swell With Martyr'd Fools that lost their way to Hell From these our Church's glorious Ancestors We 've learnt our arts and made their Methods ours Nor have we come behind the least degree In acts of rough and manly cruelty Converting Faggots and the pow'rful stake And Sword resistless our Apostles make This heretofore Bohemia felt and thus Were all the num'rous Proselytes of Huss Crush'd with their head So Waldo's cursed rout And those of Wickliff here were rooted out Their names scarce left Sure were the means we chose And wrought prevailingly Fire purg'd the dross Of those foul Heresies and sovereign Steel Lopt off th' infected Limbs the Church to heal Renown'd was that French Brave renown'd his deed A deed for which the day deserves its red Far more than for a paltry Saint that died How goodly was the Sight how fine the Show When Paris saw through all its Channels flow The blood of Huguenots when the full Sein Swell'd with the flood its Banks with joy o're-ran He scorn'd like common Murderers to deal By parcels and piecemeal he scorn'd Retail I' th' Traâ—…e of Death whole Myriads died by th' great Soon as one single life so quick their Fate Their very Pray'rs and Wishes came too late This a King did and great and mighty ' t was Worthy his high Degree and Pow'r and Place And worthy our Religion and our Cause Unmatch'd ' thad been had not Mac-quire arose The bold Mac-quire who read in modern Fame Can be a Stranger to his Worth and Name Born to out-sin a Monarch born to Reign In Guilt and all Competitors disdain Dread memory whose each mention still can make Pale Hereticks with trembling Horror quake T' undo a Kingdom to atchieve a crime Like his who would not fall and die like him Never had Rome a nobler service done Never had Hell each day came thronging down Vast shoals of Ghosts and mine was pleas'd glad And smil'd when it the brave revenge survey'd Nor do I mention these great Instances For bounds and limits to your wickedness Dare you beyond something out of the road Of all example where none yet have trod Nor shall
withstand All the soft weeping Loves about thee moan At once their Mothers darling and their own Dearer wast thou to Venus than her Loves Than her charm'd Girdle than her faithful Doves Than the last gasping Kisses which in death Adonis gave and with them gave his breath This Thames ah this is now the second loss For which in tears thy weeping Current flows Spencer the Muses glory went before He pass'd long since to the Elysian shore For him they say for him thy dear-lov'd Son Thy Waves did long in sobbing murmurs groan Long fill'd the Sea with their complaint and moan But now alas thou do'st afresh bewail Another Son does now thy sorrow call To part with either thou alike wast loth Both dear to Thee dear to the Fountains both He largely drank the Rills of sacred Cham And this no less of Isis nobler stream He sung of Hero's and of hardy Knights Far-fam'd in Battels and renown'd Exploits This meddled not with bloudy Fights and Wars Pan was his Song and Shepherds harmless jars Loves peaceful combats and its gentle cares Love ever was the subject of his Lays And his soft Lays did Venus ever please Come all ye Muses come adorn the Shepherd's Herse With never fading Garlands never-dying Verse Thou sacred Bion art lamented more Than all our tuneful Bards that dy'd before Old Chaucer who first taught the use of Verse No longer has the tribute of our tears Milton whose Muse with such a daring flight Led out the warring Seraphims to fight Blest Cowley too who on the banks of Cham So sweetly sigh'd his wrongs and told his flame And He whose Song rais'd Cooper's Hill so high As made its glory with Parnassus vie And soft Orinda whose bright shining name Stands next great Sappho's in the ranks of fame All now unwept and unrelented pass And in our grief no longer share a place Bion alone does all our tears engross Our tears are all too few for Bion's loss Come all ye Muses come adorn the Shepherd's Herse With never-fading Garlands never-dying Verse Thee all the Herdsmen mourn in gentlest Lays And rival one another in thy praise In spreading Letters they engrave thy Name On every Bark that 's worthy of the same Thy Name is warbled forth by every tongue Thy Name the Burthen of each Shepherds Song Waller the sweet'st of living Bards prepares For thee his tender'st and his mournfull'st airs And I the meanest of the British Swains Amongst the rest offer these humble strains If I am reckon'd not unblest in Song 'T is what I ow to thy all-teaching tongue Some of thy Art some of thy tuneful breath Thou didst by Will to worthless me bequeath Others thy Flocks thy Lands thy Riches have To me thou didst thy Pipe and Skill vouchâ—…afe Come all yâ—… Muses come adorn the Shepherd's Hâ—…rse With never-fading Garlands never-dying Verse Alas by what ill Fate to man unkind Were we to so severe a lot design'd The meanest Flowers which the Gardens yield The vilest Weeds that flourish in the Field Which must e're long lie dead in Winter's Snow Shall spring again again more vigorous grow Yon Sun and this bright glory of the day Which night is hasting now to snatch away Shall rise anew more shining and more gay But wretched we must harder measure find The great'st the brav'st the wittâ—…'st of mankind When Death has once put out their light in vain Ever expect the dawn of Life again In the dark Grave insensible they lie And there sleep our endless Eternity There thoâ—… to silence ever art confin'd While less deserving Swains are left behind So please the Fates to deal with us below They cull out thee and let dull Moevius go Moevius still lives still let him live for me He and his Pipe shall ne'r my envy be None e're that heard thy sweet thy Artful Tongue Will grate their ears with his rough untun'd Song Come all ye Muses come adorn the Shepherd's Herse With never-fading Garlands never-dying Verse A fierce Disease sent by ungentle Death Snatch'd Bion hence and stop'd his hallow'd breath A fatal damp put out that heav'nly fire That sacred heat which did his breast inspire Ah! what malignant ill could boast that pow'r Which his sweet voice's Magick could not cure Ah cruel Fare how could'st thou chuse but spare How could'st thou exercise thy rigout here Would thou hadst thrown thy Dart at worthless me And let this dear this valued life go free Better ten thousand meaner Swains had dy'd Than this best work of Nature been destroy'd Come all ye Muses come adorn the Shepherd's Herse With never-fading Garlands never-dying Verse Ah! would kind Death alike had sent me hence But grief shall do the work and save its pains Grief shall accomplish my desired doom And soon dispatch me to Elysium There Bion would I be there gladly know How with thy voice thou charm'st the shades below Sing Shepherd sing one of thy strains divine Such as may melt the fierce Elysian Queen She once her self was pleas'd with tuneful strains And sung and danc'd on the Sicilian Plains Fear not thy Song should unsuccessful prove Fear not but 't will the pitying Goddess move She once was won by Orpheus heav'nly Lays And gave his fair Eurydice release And thine as pow'rful question not dear Swain Shall bring thee back to these glad Hills again Ev'n I my self did I at all excel Would try the utmost of my voice and skill Would try to move the rigid King of Hell The Lamentation for ADONIS Imitated out of the Greek of Bion of Smyrna PASTORAL IMourn Adonis fair Adonis dead He 's dead and all that 's lovely with him fled Come all ye Loves come hither and bemoan The charming sweet Adonis dead and gone Rise from thy Purple Bed and rich Alcove Throw off thy gay attire great Queen of Love Henceforth in sad and mournful weeds appear And all the marks of grief and sorrow wear And tear thy locks and beat thy panting breast And cry My dear Adonis is deceast I mourn Adonis the soft Loves bemoan The gentle sweet Adonis dead and gone On the cold Mountain lies the wretched Youth Kill'd by a Savage Boar's unpitying tooth In his white thigh the fatal stroke is found Nor whiter was that tooth that gave the wound From the wide wound fast flows the streaming gore And stains that skin which was all snow before His breath with quick short tremblings comes and goes And Death his fainting eyes begins to close From his pale lips the ruddy colour 's fled Fled and has left his kisses cold and dead Yet Venus never will his kisses leave The Goddess ever to his lips will cleave The kiss of her dear Youth does please her still But her poor Youth does not the pleasure feel Dead he feels not her love feels not her grief Feels not her kiss which might ev'n life retrieve I mourn Adonis the sad Loves bemoan The comely fair Adonis dead and gone Deep
in his Thigh deep went the killing smart But deeper far it goes in Venus heart His faithful Dogs about the Mountain yell And the hard Fate of their dead Master tell The troubled Nymphs alike in doleful strains Proclaim his death through all the Fields Plains But the sad Goddess most of all forlorn With love distracted and with sorrow torn Wild in her look and ruful in her air With Garments rent and with dishevel'd hair Through Brakes through Thickets and through pathless ways Through Woods through Haunts and Dens of Savages Undrest unshod careless of Honour Fame And Danger flies and calls on his lov'd name Rude Brambles as she goes her body tear And her cut feet with bloud the stones besmear She thoughtless of the unfelt smart flies on And fills the Woods and Vallies with her moan Loudly does on the Stars and Fates complain And prays them give Adonis back again But he alass the wretched Youth alas Lies cold and stiff extended on the grass There lies he steep'd in gore there lies he drown'd In purple streams that gush from his own wound All the soft band of Loves their Mother mourn At once of beauty and of love forlorn Venus has lost her Lover and each grace That sate before in triumph in her face By grief chas'd thence has now forsook the place That day which snatch'd Adonis from her arms That day bereft the Goddess of her charms The Woods and Trees in murmuring sighs bemoan The fate of her Adonis dead and gone The Rivers too as if they would deplore His death with grief swell higher than before The Flowers weep in tears of dreary dew And by their drooping heads their sorrow shew But most the Cyprian Queen with shrieks and groans Fills all the neighb'ring Hills and Vales and Towns The poor Adonis dead is all her cry Adonis dead sad Eccho does reply What cruel heart would not the Queen of Love To melting tears and soft compassion move When she saw how her wretched Lover fell Saw his deep wound saw it ineurable Soon as her eyes his bleeding wounds survey'd With eager clips she did his Limbs invade And these soft tender mournful things she said Whither O whither fli'st thou wretched Boy Stay my Adonis stay my only joy Ostay unhappy Youth at least till I With one kind word bespeak thee e're thou die Till I once more embrace thee till I seal Upon thy dying lips my last farewel Look up one minute give one parting kiss One kiss dear Youth to dry these flowing eyes One kiss as thy last Legacy I 'd fain Preserve no God shall take it off again Kiss while I watch thy swimming eye-balls roul Watch thy last gasp and catch thy springing soul. I 'll suck it in I 'll hoard it in my heart I with that facred pledg will never part But thou wilt part but thou art gone far gone To the dark shades and leav'st me here alone Thou dy'st but hopeless I must suffer life Must pine away with easless endless grief Why was I born a Goddess why was I Made such a wretch to want the pow'r to die If I by death my sorrows might redress If the cold Grave could to my pains give ease I 'd gladly die I 'd rather nothing be Than thus condemn'd to immortality In that vast empty void and boundless wast We mind not what 's to come nor what is past Of life or death we know no difference Nor hopes nor fears at all affect our sense But those who are of pleasure once bereft And must survive are most unhappy left To ravenous sorrow they are left a prey Nor can they ever drive despair away Take cruel Proserpine take my lov'd Boy Rich with my spoils do thou my loss enjoy Take him relentless Goddess for thy own Never till now wast thou my envy grown Hard Fate that thus the best of things must be Always the plunder of the Grave and thee The Grave and thou now all my hopes engross And I for ever must Adonis lose Thou' rt dead alas alas my Youth thou' rt dead And with thee all my pleasures too are fled They 're all like fleeting vanish'd dreams pass'd o're And nought but the remembrance left in store Of tasted joys ne're to be tasted more With thee my Cestos all my charms are gone Thy Venus must thy absence ever moan And spend the tedious live-long nights alone Ah! heedless Boy why would'st thou rashly choose Thy self to dang'rous pleasures to expose Why would'st thou hunt why would'st thou any more Venture with Dogs to chase the foaming Boar Thou wast all fair to mine to humane eyes But not alas to those wild Savages One would have thought thy sweetness might have charm'd The roughest kind the fiercest rage disarm'd Mine I am sure it could but wo is thee All wear not eyes all wear not breasts like me In such sad words the Dame her grief did vent While the Wing'd Loves kept time with her complaint As many drops of Bloud as from the wound Of slain Adonis fell upon the ground So many tears and more you might have told That down the cheeks of weeping Venus roul'd Both tears and bloud to new born flow'rs give rise Hence Roses spring and thence Anemonies Cease Venus in the Woods to mourn thy Love Thou 'st vented sighs thou 'st lavish'd tears enough See! Goddess where a glorious bed of State Does ready for thy dear Adonis wait This bed was once the Scene of Love and Joy But now must bear the wretched murder'd Boy There lies he like a pale and wither'd Flower Which some rude hand had cropt before its hour Yet smiles and beauties still live in his face Which death can never frighten from their place There let him lie upon that conscious bed Where you loves mysteries so oft have tried When you 've enjoy'd so many an happy night Each lengthen'd into ages of delight There let him lie there heaps of Flowers strow Roses and Lillies store upon him throw And myrtle Garlands lavishly bestow Pour Myrth and Balm and costliest Ointments on Flowers are faded Ointments worthless grown Now thy Adonis now thy Youth is gone Who was all sweetnesses compriz'd in one In Purple wrapt Adonis lies in state A Troop of mourning Loves about him wait Each does some mark of their kind sorrow show One breaks his Shafts t'other unstrings his Bow A third upon his Quiver wreaks his hate As the sad causes of his hasty fate This plucks his bloudy garments off that brings Water in Vessels from the neighb'ring Springs Some wash his Wound some fan him with theiâ—… Wings All equally their Mothers loss bemoan All moan for poor Adonis dead and gone Sad Hymen too the fatal loss does mourn His Tapers all to Funeral Tapers turn And all his wither'd Nuptial Garlands burn His gay and airy Songs are heard no more But mournful Strains that hopeless love deplore Nor do the Graces fail to bear a part With wretched Venus
Tapers near their Fall When their own Lustre lights their Funeral Contract their Strength into one brighter Fire And in that Blaze triumphantly expire So the bright Globe that rules the Skies Tho' he guild Heav'n with a glorious Rise Reserves his choicest Beams to grace his Set And then he looks most great And then in greatest Splendor dies XXXVI Thou sharpest pains didst with that Courage bear And still thy Looks so unconcern'd didst wear Beholders seem'd more indispos'd than thee For they were sick in Effigie Like some well-fashion'd Arch thy Patience stood And purchas'd Firmness from its greater Load Those Shapes of Torture which to view in Paint Would make another faint Thou could'st endure in true Reality And feel what some could hardly bear to see Those Indians who their Kings by Torture chose Subjecting all the Royal Issue to that Test Could ne'er thy Sway refuse If he deserves to reign that suffers best Had those fierce Savages thy Patience view'd thou 'dst claim'd their Choice alone They with a Crown had paid thy Fortitude And turn'd thy Death bed to a Throne XXXVII All those Heroick Pieties Whose Zeal to Truth made them its Sacrifice Those nobler Scaevola's whose holy Rage Did their whole selves in cruel Flames engage Who did amidst their Force unmov'd appear As if those Fires but lambent were Or they had found their Empyreum there Might these repeat again their Days beneath They 'd seen their Fates out-acted by a natural Death And each of them to thee resign his Wreath In spite of Weakness and harsh Destiny To relish Torment and enjoy a Misery So to caress a Doom As make its Sufferings Delights become So to triumph o'er Sense and thy Disease As amongst Pains to revel in soft Ease These wonders did thy Vertues worth enhance And Sickness to dry Martyrdom advance XXXVIII Yet could not all these Miracles stern Fate avert Or make 't withold the Dart. Only she paus'd a while with Wonder strook A while she doubted if that Destiny was thine And turned o'er again the dreadful Book And hop'd she had mistook And wish'd she might have cut another Line But dire Necessity Soon cry'd 't was thee And bad her give the fatal Blow Strait she obeys and strait the vital Powers grow Too weak to grapple with a stronger Foe And now the feeble Strife forgo Life's sap'd Foundation every Moment sinks And every Breath to lesser compass shrinks Last panting Gasps grow weaker each Rebound Like the faint Tremblings of a dying Sound And doubtful Twilight hovers o'er the Light Ready to usher in Eternal Night XXXIX Yet heré thy Courage taught thee to out-brave All the slight Horrors of the Grave Pale Death's Arrest Ne'er shock'd thy Breast Nor could it in the dreadfulst Figure drest That ugly Skeleton may guilty Spirits daunt When the dire Ghosts of Crimes departed haunt Arm'd with bold Innocence thou couldst that Mormo dare And on the bare-fac'd King of Terrors stare As free from all Effects as from the Cause of Fear Thy Soul so willing from thy Body went As if both parted by Consent No Murmur no Complaining no Delay Only a Sigh a Groan and so away Death seem'd to glide with Pleasure in As if in this Sense too 't had lost her Sting Like some well-acted Comedy Life swiftly past And ended just so still and sweet at last Thou like its Actors seem'dst in borrow'd Habit here And couldst as easily beneath As they do that put off Mortality Thou breathedst out thy Soul as free as common Breath As unconcern'd as they are in a feigned Death XL. Go happy Soul ascend the joyful Sky Joyful to shine with thy bright Company Go mount the spangled Sphere And make it brighter by another Star Yet stop not there till thou advance yet higher Till thou art swallow'd quite In the vast unexhausted Ocean of Delight Delight which there alone in its true Essence is Where Saints keep an eternal Carnival of Bliss Where the Regalio's of refined Joy Which fill but never cloy Where Pleasures ever growing ever new Immortal as thy self and boundless too There may'st thou learned by Compendium grow For which in vain below We so much time and so much pains bestow There may'st thou all Idaea's see All wonders which in Knowledge be In that fair beatifick mirror of the Deity XLI Mean while thy Body mourns in its own Dust And puts on Sables for its tender Trust. Tho' dead it yet retains some untoucht Grace Wherein we may thy Soul 's fair Foot-steps trace Which no Disease can frighten from its wonted place E'en its Deformities do thee become And only serve to consecrate thy Doom Those marks of Death which did its Surface stain Now hallow not profane Each Spot does toa Ruby turn What soil'd but now would now adornâ—… Those Asterisks plac'd in the Margin of thy Skin Point out the nobler Soul that dwelt within Thy lesser like the greater World appears All over bright all over stuck with Stars So Indian Luxury when it would be trim Hangs Pearls on every Limb. Thus amongst ancient Picts Nobility In Blemishes did lie Each by his Spots more honourable grew And from their Store a greater Value drew Their Kings were known by th' Royal Stains they bore And in their Skins their Ermin wore LXII Thy Blood where Death triumph'd in greatest State Whose Purple seem'd the Badge of Tyrant-Fate And all thy Body o'er Its ruling Colours bore That which infected with the noxious Ill But lately help'd to kill Whos 's Circulation fatal grew And thro' each part a swifter Ruin threw Now conscious it s own Murther would arraign And throngs to sally out at every Vein Each Dropa redder than its native Dye puts on As if in its own Blushes 't would its Guilt atone A sacred Rubric does thy Carcass paint And Death in every Member writes thee Saint So Phoebus cloaths his dying Rays each Night And blushes he can live no longer to give Light LXIII Let Fools whose dying Fame requires to have Like their own Carcasses a Grave Let them with vain Expence adorn Some costly Urn Which shortly like themselves to Dust shall turn Here lacks no Carian Sepulchre Which Ruin shall e'er long in its own Tomb interr No fond AEgyptian Fabric built so high As if 't would climb the Sky And thence reach Immortality Thy Vertues shall embalm thy Name And make it lasting as the Breath of Fame When frailer Brass Shall moulder by a quick Decrease When brittle Marble shall decay And to the Jaws of Time become a Prey Thy Praise shall live when Graves shall buried lie Till Time it self shall die And yield its triple Empire to Eternity To the Memory of that worthy Gentleman Mr. Harman Atwood PINDARIQUE I. No I 'll no more repine at Destiny Now we poor common Mortals are content to die When thee blest Saint we cold and breathless see Thee who if ought that 's great and brave Ought that is excellent might save
That knew the Fellow's humour passing well Glad of the sight I joyn him we stand still Whence came you Sir and whither go you now And such like questions pass'd betwixt us two Strait I begin to pull him by the sleeve Nod wink upon him touch my Nose and give A thousand hints to let him know that I Needed his help for my delivery He naughty Wag with an Arch fleering smile Seems ignorant of what I mean the while I grow stark wild with rage Sir said not you You 'd somewhat to discourse not long ago With me in private I remember 't well Some other time be sure I will not fail Now I am in great haste upon my word A Messenger came for me from a Lord That 's in a bad condition like to die Oh! Sir he can't be in a worse than I Therefore for God's sake do not stir from hence Sweet Sir your pardon 't is of consequence I hope you 're kinder than to pross my stay Which may be Heav'n knows what out of my way This said he left me to my murderer Seeing no hopes of my relief appear Confounded be the Stars said I that sway'd This fatal day would I had kept my Bed With sickness rather than been visited With this worse Pâ—…gue what ill have I e're done To pull this eurâ—…e this heavy Judgment down While I was thus lamenting my ill hap Comos aid at length a brace of Bailiffs clap The Rascal on the back Here take your Fees Kind Gentlemen said I for my release He would have had me Bail Excuse me Sir I've made a Vow ne're to be Surety more My Father was undone by 't hereâ—…ofore Thus I got off and bless'd the Fates that he Was Pris'ner made I set at liberty Paraphrase upon HORACE BOOK I. ODE XXXI Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinem Vates c. 1. WHat does the Poet 's modest Wish require What Boon does he of gracious Heav'n desire Not the large Corps of Esham's goodly Soil Which tire the Mower's and the Reaper's toil Not the soft Flocks on hilly Cotswold fed Nor Lemster Fields with living Fleeces clad He does not ask the Grounds where gentle Thames Or Severn spread their fat'ning Streams Where they with wanton windings play And eat their widen'd Banks insensibly away He does not ask the Wealth of Lombard-street Which Consciences and Souls are pawn'd to get Nor those exhaustless Mines of Gold Which Guinny and Peru in their rich bosoms hold 2. Let those that live in the Canary Isles On which indulgent Nature ever smiles Take pleasure in their plenteous Vintages And from the juicy Grape its racy Liquor press Let wealthy Merchants when they Dine Run o're their costly names of Wine Their Chests of Florence and their Mont-Alchine Their Mants Champagns Chablees Frontiniacks tell Their Aums of Hock of Backrag and Moselle He envies not their Luxury Which they with so much pains and danger buy For which so many Storms and Wrecks they bear For which they pass the Streights so oft each year And scape so narrowly the Bondage of Argier 3. He wants no Cyprus Birds nor Ortolaâ—…s Nor Daintics fetch'd from far to please his Sense Cheap wholsom Herbs content his frugal Board The food of unfaln Innocence Which the mean'st Village Garden does afford Grant him kind Heav'n the sum of his desires What Nature not what Luxury requires He only does a Competency claim And when he has it wit to use the same Grant him sound Health impair'd by no Disease Nor by his own Excess Let him in strength of Mind and Body live But not his Reason nor his Sense survive His Age if Age he e're must live to see Let it from want Contempt and Care be free But not from Mirth and the delights of Poetry Grant him but this he 's amply satisfi'd And scorns whatever Fate can give beside Paraphrase upon HORACE BOOK II. ODE XIV Eheu fugaces Posthume Posthume Labuntur anni c. 1. ALas dear Friend alas time hastes away Nor is it in our pow'r to bribe its stay The rolling years with constant motion run Lo while I speak the present minute 's gone And following hours urge the foregoing on 'T is not thy Wealth 't is not thy Power 'T is not thy Piety can thee secure They 're all too feeble to withstand Grey Hairs approaching Age and thy avoidless end When once thy fatal Glass is run When once thy utmost Thread is spun 'T will then be fruitless to expect Reprieve Could'st thou ten thousand Kingdoms give In purchase for each hour of longer life They would not buy one gasp of breath Not move one jot inexorable Death 2. All the vast stock of humane Progeny Which now like swarms of Insects â—…wl Upon the Surface of Earth's spacious Ball Must quit this Hillock of Mortality And in its Bowels buried lie The mightiest King and proudest Potentate In spight of all his Pomp and all his State Must pay this necessary Tribute unto Fate The busie restless Monarch of the times which now Keeps such a pother and so much ado To fill Gazettes alive And after in some lying Annal to survive Ev'n He ev'n that great mortal Man must die And stink and rot as well as thou and I As well as the poor tatter'd Wretch that begs his bread And is with scraps out of the common Basket sed 3. In vain from dangers of the bloudy Field we keep In vain we escape The sultry Line and stormy Cape And all the treacheries of the faithless Deep In vain for health to forein Countries we repair And change our English for Mompellier Air In hope to leave our fears of dying there In vain with costly far fetch'd Drugs we strive To keep the wasting vital Lamp alive In vain on Doctors feeble Art rely Against resistless Death there is no remedy Both we and they for all their skill must die And fill alike the Bedrols of Mortality 4. Thou must thou must resign to Fate my Friend And leave thy House thy Wife and Family behind Thou must thy fair and goodly Mannors leave Of these thy Trees thou shalt not with thee take Save just as much as will thy Coffin make Nor wilt thou be allow'd of all thy Land to have But the small pittance of a six-foot Grave Then shall thy prodigal young Heir Lavish the Wealth which thou for many a year Hast hoarded up with so much pains and care Then shall he drain thy Cellars of their Stores Kept sacred now as vaults of buried Ancestors Shall set th' enlarged Butts at liberty Which there close Pris'ners under durance lie And wash these stately Floors with better Wine Than that of consecrated Prelates when they dine The PRAISE of HOMER ODE 1. HAil God of Verse pardon that thus I take in vain Thy sacred everlasting Name And in unhallow'd Lines blaspheme Pardon that with strange Fire thy Altars I profane Hail thou to whom we mortal Bards our Faith submit Whom we acknowledg
down and falls asleep FINIS REMAINS OF Mr. John Oldham IN VERSE and PROSE LONDON Printed for Jo. Hindmarsh Bookseller to his Royal Highness at the Black Bull in Cornil 1684. Advertisement THe Author of these following Poems being dead the Publisher thought fit to acquaint the World that the reason why he exposed them now in Print was not so much for his own Interest tho a Bookseller that disclaims Interest for a pretence will no more be believed now adays than a thorough paced Phanatick that pretends he makes a journey to New England purely for conscience sake but for securing the reputation of Mr. Oldham which might otherwise have suffered from worse hands and out of a desire he has to print the last Remains of his friend since he had the good fortune to publish his first Pieces He confesses that it is the greatest piece of injustice to publish the posthumous Works of Authors especially such that we may suppose they had brought to the file and sent out with more advantages into the World had they not been prevented by untimely death and therefore assures you he had never presumed to print these following Miscellanies had they not already been countenanced by men of unquestionable repute and esteem He is not of the same perswasion with several others of his own profession that never care how much they lessen the reputation of the Poet if they can but inhance the value of the Book that ransackt he Studies of the deceased and print all that passed under the Author's hands from Fifteen to Forty and upwards and as the incomparable Mr. Cowley has exprest it think a rude heap of ill placed Stones a better Monument than a neat Tomb of Marble For the Description of the Country P the only part in this Book that he judges liable to exception he makes you no Apology at all For to men of candor and judgment any thing that comes from Mr. Oldham will certainly be acceptable to others that are resolved to damn at first sight he thinks a defence of this nature signifies no more than a Plantiffs perswasions to a hungry Judg after twelve However he is very confident that the rest of Mr. Oldham's pieces will abundantly atone for one unfinished draught and that no man of sense and reason will quarel at one bad half Crown in a good round substantial lump of Money To the MEMORY of Mr. OLDHAM FArewel too little and too lately known Whom I began to think and call my own For sure our Souls were near ally'd and thine Cast in the same Poetick mould with mine One common Note on either Lyre did strike And Knaves and Fools we both abhorr'd alike To the same Goal did both our Studies drive The last set out the soonest did arrive Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery place While his young Friend perform'd and won the Race O early ripe to thy abundant store What could advancing Age have added more It might what Nature never gives the young Have taught the numbers of thy native Tongue But Satyr needs not those and Wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line A noble Error and but seldom made When Poets are by too much force betray'd Thy generous fruits though gather'd ere their prime Still shew'd a quickness and maturing time But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of Rime Once more hail and farewel farewel thou young But ah too short Marcellus of our Tongue Thy Brows with Ivy and with Laurels bound But Fate and gloomy Night encompass thee around JOHN DRYDEN Authori Epitaphium HOc ô Viator marmore conditae Charae recumbunt Exuviae brevem Viventis oh sors dura vitam Praecoce coelum animâ petentis Nec praepedita est Mens celeris diù Quin Pustularum mille tumoribus Effâ—…oruit portisque mille Praepes iter patefecit altum Musarum Alumnus jà m fuit artibus Instructus almis quas studio pio Atque aure quà m fidâ repostas Oxonij coluit Parentis Hic quadriennis praemia Filii Dignus recepit Vellera candida Collati Honoris signa necnon Innocui simulacra cordis Sed manè montis summa cacumina Ascendit ardens Pierio jugo Insedit atque errore multo Ipsum Helicona scatere vidit Nunc pura veri Flumina perspicit Nunc mira Mundi semina concipit Pulchrasque primaevi figuras In speculo species creante At Tu Viator Numina poscito Ut dissolutis reliquijs vaga Dùm mens remigret detur ah su Terra levis placidusque somnus On the Death of Mr. John Oldham A Pindarique Pastoral Ode Stanza I. UNdoubtedly 't is thy peculiar Fate Ah miserable Astragon Thou art condemn'd alone To bear the Burthen of a wretched Life Still in this howling Wilderness to roam While all thy Bosom-friends unkindly go And leave thee to lament them here below Thy dear Alexis would not stay Joy of thy Life and Pleasure of thine Eyes Dear Alexis went away With an invincible Surprize Th' Angel-like Youth early dislik'd this State And chearfully submitted to his Fate Never did Soul of a Celestial Birth Inform a purer piece of Earth O that 't were not in vain To wish what 's past might be retriev'd again Thy Dotage thy Alexis then Had answer'd all thy Vows and Pray'rs And Crown'd with pregnant Joys thy silver Hairs Lov'd to this day among the living Sons of Men. II. And thou my Friend hast left me too Menalcas poor Menalcas even thou Of whom so loudly Fame has spoke In the Records of her immortal Book Whose disregarded Worth Ages to come Shall wail with Indignation o'er thy Tomb. Worthy wert thou to live as long as Vice Should need a Satyr that the frantick Age Might tremble at the Lash of thy poetick Rage Th' untutor'd World in after Times May live uncensur'd for their Crimes Freed from the Dreads of thy reforming Pen Turn to old Chaos once again Of all th' instructive Bards whose more than Theban Lyre Could savage Souls with manly Thoughts inspire Menalcas worthy was to live Say you his Fellow-Shepherds that survive Tell me you mournful Swains Has my ador'd Menalcas left behind In all these pensive Plains A gentler Shepherd with a braver mind Which of you all did more Majestick Show Or wore the Garland on a sweeter Brow III. But wayward Astragon resolves no more The Loss of his Menalcas to deplore The place to which he wisely is withdrawn Is altogether blest There no Clouds o'erwhelm his Breast No Midnight Cares can break his Rest For all is everlasting cheerful Dawn The Poet's Bliss there shall he long possess Perfect Ease and soft Recess The treacherous World no more shall him deceive Of Hope and Fortune he has taken Leave And now in mighty Triumph does he reign His Head adorn'd with Beams of Light O'er the unthinking Rabble's Spite And the dull wealthy Fool 's disdain Thrice happy he that dies the Muses Friend He needs no Obelisque no Pyramid His sacred Dust
never-dying Bays But those are due already to thy Name Which stands enroll'd in the Records of Fame And though thy great Remains to Ashes turn With lasting Praises we 'll supply thy Urn Which like Sepulchral Lamps shall ever burn But hold methinks great Shade I see thee rove Through the smooth Path of Plenty Peace and Love Where Ben. salutes thee first o'erjoy'd to see The Youth that sung his Fame and Memory Great Spencer next with all the learned Train Do greet thee in a Panegyrick Strain Adonis is the Joy of all the Plain Tho. Andrews DAMON an ECLOGUE On the untimely Death of Mr. Oldham Corydon Alexis BEneath a dismal Yew the Shepherds sate And talk'd of Damon's Muse and Damon's Fate Their mutual Lamentations gave them Ease For sometimes Melancholy it self does please Like Philomel abandon'd to distress Yet ev'n their Griefs in Musick they express Cor. I 'll sing no more since Verses want a Charm The Muses could not their own Damon arm At least I 'll touch this useless Pipe no more Unless like Orpheus I could Shades restore A. Rather like Orpheus celebrate your Friend And with your Musick Hell it self suspend Tax Proserpine of Cruelty and Hate And sing of Damon's Muse and Damon's Fate C. When Damon sung he sung with such a Grace Lord how the very London-brutes did gaze Sharp was his Satyr nor allay'd with Gall 'T was Rage 't was generous Indignation all A. Oh had he liv'd and to Perfection grown Not like Marcellus only to be shown He would have charm'd their Sence a nobler way Taught Virgins how to sigh and Priests to pray C. Let Priests and Virgins then to him address And in their Songs their Gratitude express While we that know the Worth of easie Verse Secure the Laurel to adorn his Herse A. Codrus you know that sacred Badge does wear And 't were injurious not to leave it there But since no Merit can strike Envy dumb Do you with Baccar guard and grace his Tomb. C. While you dear Swain with unaffected Rhime Majestick sad and suited to the Time His Name to future Ages consecrate By praising of his Muse and mourning of his Fate A. Alas I never must pretend to this My Pipe scarce knows a Tune but what is his Let future Ages then for Damon's sake From his own Works a just Idaea take Yet then but like Alcides he 'll be shown And from his meanest part his Size be known C. 'T will be your Duty then to set it down A. Once and but once so Heav'n and Fate ordain I met the gentle Youth upon the Plain Kindly cries he if you Alexis be And though I know you not you must be he Too long already we have Strangers been This Day at least our Friendship must begin Let Business that perverse Intruder wait To be above it is poetical and great Then with Assyrian Nard our Heads did shine While rich Sabaean Spice exalts the Wine Which to a just Degree our Spirits fir'd But he was by a greater God inspir'd Wit was the Theme which he did well describe With Modesty unusual to his Tribe But as with ominous Doubts and aking Heart When Lovers after first Enjoyment part Not half content for this was but a Taste And wond'ring how the Minutes flew so fast They vow a Friendship that shall ever last So we but Oh how much am I accurs'd To think that this last Office is my first Occasioned by the present Edition of the ensuing Poems and the Death of the ingenious Author CUrs'd be the day when first this goodly Isle Vile Books and useless thinking did defile In Greek and Latin-Boggs our Time we waste When all is Pain and Weariness at best Mountains of Whims and Doubts we travel o'er While treacherous Fancy dances on before Pleas'd with our Danger still we stumble on To late repent and are too soon undone Let Bodley now in its own Ruines lie By th' common Hangman burnt for Heresie Avoid the nasty learned Dust 't will breed More Plagues than ever Jakes or Dunghils did The want of Dulness will the World undo 'T is Learning makes us mad and Rebels too Learning a Jilt which while we do enjoy Slily our Rest and Quiet steals away That greedily the Blood of Youth receives And nought but Blindness and a Dotage gives Worse than the Pox or scolding Woman fly The awkward Madness of Philosophy That Bedlam Bess Religion never more Phantastick pie-ball'd antick Dresses wore Opinion Pride Moroseness gives a Fame 'T is Folly christen'd with a modish Name Let dull Divinity no more delight It spoils the Man and makes an Hypocrite The chief Professors to Preferment fly By Cringe and Scrape the basest Simony The humble Clown will best the Gospel teach And inspir'd Ign'rance sounder Doctrines preach A way to Heav'n mere Nature well does shew Which reasoning and Disputes can never know Yet still proud Tyrant Sence in Pomp appears And claims a Tribute of full threescore Years Sew'd in a Sack with Darkness circl'd round Each man must be with Snakes and Monkeys drown'd Laborious Folly and compendious Art To waste that Life whose longest Date 's too short Laborious Folly to wind up with Pain What Death unravels soon and renders vain We blindly hurry on in mystick ways Nor wisely tread the Paths of solid Praife There 's nought deserves one precious drop of sweat But Poetry the noblest Gift of Fate Which after Death does a more lasting Life beget Not that which suddain frantick Heats produce Where Wine and Pride not Heav'n shall raise the Muse. Not that small Stock which does Translators make That Trade poor Bankrupt-Poetasters take But such when God his Fiat did express And powerful Numbers wrought an Universe With such great David tun'd his charming Lyre That even Saul and Madness could admire With such Great Oldham bravely did excell That David's Lamentation sung so well Oldham the Man that could with Judgment writt Our Oxford's Glory and the World's Delight Sometimes in boundless keenest Satyr bold Sometimes a soft as those Love-tales he told That Vice could praise and Vertue too disgrace The first Excess of Wit that e'er did please Scarce Cowley such Pindarique soaring knew Yet by his Reader still was kept in view His Fancy like Jove's Eagle liv'd above And bearing Thunder still would upward move Oh Noble Kingston had thy lovely Guest With a large stock of Youth and Life been Blest Not all thy Greatness and thy Vertues store Had surer Comforts been or pleased thee more But Oh! the date is short of mighty Worth And Angels never tarry long on Earth His soul the bright the pure Etherial Flame To those lov'd Regions flew from whence it came And spight of what Mankind had long believ'd My Creed says only Poets can be sav'd That God has only for a number staid To stop the breach which Rebel Angels made For none their absence can so well supply They are all o're Seraphick Harmony Then
Nothing but Charms are wanting Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. Charms in her wonted Course can stop the Moon And from her well-fix'd Orb can call her down By Charms the mighty Circe we are told Ulysses fam'd Companions chang'd of old Snakes by the Vertue of Enchantment forc'd Oft in the Meads with their own Poyson burst Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. First these three several Threads I compass round Thy Image thus in Magick Fetters bound Then round these Altars thrice thy Image bear Odd Numbers to the Gods delightful are Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. Go tie me in three knots three Ribands now And let the Ribands be of diffrent Hue Go Amaryllis tie them strait and cry At the same time They 're true-love-knots I tie Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. Look how this Clay grows harder and look how With the same Fire this Wax doth softer grow So Daphnis let him with my Love do so Strow Meal and Salt for so these Rites require And set the crackling Laurel Boughs on fire This naughty Daphnis sets my Brest on flame And I this Laurel burn in Daphnis's Name Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Atms. As a poor Heifer wearied in the Chase Of seeking her lov'd Steer from place to place Through Woods through Groves through Arable and Wast On some green River's bank lies down at last There Lows her Moan despairing and forlorn And tho' belated minds not to return Let Daphnis's Case be such and let not me Take any care to give a Remedy Bring Daphnis from the Town ye magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. These Garments erst the faithless Traitour left Dear Pledges of his Love of which I 'me reft Beneath the Threshold these I bury now In thee O Earth these Pledges Daphnis owe. Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. Of Maeris I these Herbs and Poysons had From Pontus brought in Pontus store are bred With these I 've oft seen Maeris Wonders do Turn himself Wolf and to the Forest go I 've often seen him Fields of Corn displace From whence they grew and Ghosts in Church-yards raise Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. Go Maid go bear the Ashes out at door And then forthwith into the neighb'ring current pour Over thy Head and don 't look back be sure I 'll try what these on Daphnis will prevail The Gods he minds not nor my Charms at all Bring Daphnis from the Town ye Magick Charms Bring home lov'd Daphnis to my longing Arms. Behold the Ashes while we lingring stay While we neglect to carry them away Have reach'd the Altar and have fir'd the Wood That lyes upon 't Heav'n send it be for good Something I know not what 's the matter Hark! I hear our Lightfoot in the Entry bark Shall I believe or is it only Dream Which Lovers fancies are too apt to frame Cease now ye Magick Charms behold him come Cease needless Charms my Daphnis is at home To Madam L. E. upon her Recovery from a late Sickness Madam PArdon that with slow Gladness we so late Your wish'd return of Health congratulate Our Joys at first so throng'd to get abroad They hinder'd one another in the crowd And now such haste to tell their Message make They only stammer what they meant to speak You the fair Subject which I am to sing To whose kind Hands this humble joy I bring Aid me I beg while I this Theme pursue For I invoke no other Muse but you Long time had you here brightly shone below With all the Rays kind Heaven could bestow No envious Cloud e're offer'd to invade Your Lustre or compel it to a Shade Nor did it yet by any Sign appear But that you thoroughout Immortal were Till Heaven if Heaven could prove so cruel sent To interrupt the Growth of your content As if it grudg'd those Gifts you did enjoy And would that Bounty which it gave destroy 'T was since your Excellence did envy move In those high Powers and made them jealous prove They thought these Glories should they still have shin'd Unsullied were too much for Woman-kind Which might they write as lasting as they 're Fair Too great for ought but Deities appear But Heaven it may be was not yet compleat And lackt you there to fill your empty Seat And when it could not fairly woo you hence Turn'd Ravisher and offer'd Violence Sickness did first a formal siege begin And by sure slowness tryed your Life to win As if by lingring methods Heaven meant To chase you hence and tire you to consent But this in vain Fate did to force resort And next by Storm shove to attack the fort A Sleep dull as your last did you Arrest And all there Magazines of life possest No more the Blood its circling course did run But in the veins like Isicles it hung No more the Heart now void of quickning heat The tuneful March of vital Motion beat Stiffness did into all the Sinews climb And a short Death crept cold through every Limb. All Signs of Life from sight so far withdrew 'T was now thought Popery to pray for you There might you were not that sense lost have seen How your true Death would have resented been A Lethargy like yours each breast did seize And all by Sympathy catcht your Disease Around you silent Imagery appears And nought in the Spectators moves but Tears They pay what grief were to your Funeral due And yet dare hope Heaven would your Life renew Mean while all means all drugs prescribed are Which the decays of Health or Strength repair Medicines so powerful they new Souls would save And Life in long-dead Carcasses retrieve But these in vain they rougher Methods try And now your'e Martyr'd that you may not die Sad Scene of Fate when Tortures were your gain And t was a kindness thought to wish you pain As if the slackned string of Life run down Could only by the Rack be screwed in tune But Heav'n at last grown conscious that its pow'r Could scarce what was to die with you restore And loth to see such Glories over-come Sent a post Angel to repeal your doom Strait Fate obey'd the Charge which Heaven sent And gave this first dear Proof it could Repent Triumphant Charms what may not you subdue When Fate 's your Slave and thus submits to you It now again the new-broke Thread does knit And for another Clew her spindle fit And life 's hid spark which did unquencht remain Caught the fled light and brought it back again Thus you reviv'd and all our Joy with
you Reviv'd and found their Resurrection too Some only griev'd that what was Deathless thought They saw so near to Fatal ruin brought Now crowds of Blessings on that happy hand Whose kill could cager Destiny withstand Whose learned Pow'r has rescu'd from the Grave That Life which 't was a Miracle to save That Life which were it thus untimely lost Had been the â—…est Spoil Death ere could boast May he henceforth be God of healing thought By whom such good to you and us was brought Altars and shrines to him are justly due Who shew'd himself a God by raising you But say fair Saint for you alone can know Whither your Soul in this short flight did go Went it to antedate that Happiness You must at last though late we hope possess Inform us lest we should your Fate belye And call that Death which was but Extasie The Queen of Love we 're told once let us see That Goddesses from wounds could not be free And you by this unwish'd Occasion show That they like Mortal us can Sickness know Pitty that Heav'n should all its Titles give And yet not let you with them ever live You 'd lack no point that makes a Deity If you could like it too Immortal be And so you are half boasts a Deathless State Although your frailer part must yield to Fate By every breach in that fair lodging made Its blest Inhabitant is more displaid In that white Snow which overspreads your skin We trace ye whiter Soul which dwells within Which while you through this shining Hue display Looks like a Star plac'd in the Milky way Such the bright Bodies of the Blessed are When they for Raiment cloath'd with Light appear And should you visit now the Seats of Bliss You need not wear another form but this Never did Sickness in such pomp appear As when it thus your Livery did wear Disease it self look'd amiable here So Clouds which would obscure the Sun oft gilded be And Shades are taught to shine as bright as he Grieve not fair Nymph when in your Glass you trace The marring footsteps of a pale Disease Regret not that your cheeks their Roses want Which a few Days shall in full store replant Which whilst your Blood withdraws its guilty Red Tells that you own no faults that blushes need The Sun whose Bounty does each Spring restore What Winter from the rifled Meadows tore Which every Morning with an early ray Paints the young Blushing Cheeks of instant Day Whose skill inimitable here below Limns those gay Clouds which form Heaven 's colour'd bow That Sun shall soon with Interest repay All the lost Beauty Sickness snatch'd a way Your Beams like his shall hourly now advance And every minute their swift Growth enhance Mean while that you no helps of healths refuse Accept these humble Wishes of the Muse Which shall not of their Just Petition fail If she and she's a Goddess ought prevail May no profane Disease henceforth approach This sacred Temple with unhallow'd touch Or with rude sacriledge its frame debauch May these fair Members always happy be In as full Strength and well-set Harmony As the new Foundress of your sex could boast Ere she by Sin her first Persecution lost May Destiny just to your Merits twine All your smooth Fortunes in a Silken Line And that you may at Heaven late arrive May it to you its largest Bottom give May Heaven with still repeated Favours bless Till it its Pow'r below its Will confess Till wishes can no more exalt your Fate Nor Poets fancy you more Fortunate On the Death of Mrs. Katharine Kingscourt a Child of Excellent Parts and Piety SHE did She did I saw her mount the Skie And with new Whiteness paint the Galaxy Heav'n her methought with all its Eyes did view And yet acknowledg'd all its Eyes too few Methought I saw in crowds blest Spirits meet And with loud Welcomes her arrival greet Which could they grieve had gone with grief away To see a Soul more white more pure than they Earth was unworthy such a prize as this Only a while Heaven let us share the Bliss In vain her stay with fruitless Tears we 'd woo In vain we'd court when that our Rival grew Thanks ye kind Powers who did so long dispense Since you so wish'd her with her absence thence We now resign to you alone we grant The sweet Monopoly of such a Saint So pure a Saint I scarce dare call her so For fear to wrong her with a Name too low Such a Seraphick brightness in her shin'd I hardly can believe her Woman-kind 'T was sure some noble Being left the Sphere Which deign'd a little to inhabit here And can't be said to die but disappear Or if she Mortal was and meant to show The greater skill by being made below Sure Heav'n preserv'd her by the fall uncurst To tell how all the Sex were form'd at first Never did yet so much Divinity In such a small Compendium crouded lye By her we credit what the Learned tell That many Angels in one point can dwell More damned Fiends did not in Mary rest Than lodg'd of Blessed Spirits in her Breast Religion dawn'd so early in her mind You 'd think her Saint whilst in the Womb enshrin'd Nay that bright ray which did her Temples paint Proclaim'd her clearly while alive a Saint Scarce had she learnt to lisp Religion's Name E'er she by her Example preach'd the same And taught her Cradle-like the Pulpit to reclaim No Action did within her Practice fall Which for th' Atonement of a Blush could call No word of hers e'er greeted any Ear But what a dying Saint confest might hear Her Thoughts had scarcely ever sully'd been By the least Foot-steps of Original Sin Her Life did still as much Devotion breath As others do at their last Gasp in Death Hence on her Tomb of her let not be said So long she liv'd but thus so long she pray'd A Sunday-Thought in Sickness LOrd how dreadful is the Prospect of Death at the remotest Distance How the smallest Apprehension of it can pall the most gay airy and brisk Spirits Even I who thought I could have been merry in sight of my Coffin and drink a Health with the Sexton in my own Grave now tremble at the least Envoy of the King of Terrors To see but the shaking of my Glass makes me turn pale and fear is like to prevent and do the Work of my Distemper All the Jollity of my Humor and Conversation is turn'd on a suddain into shagrin and melancholy black as Despair and dark as the Grave My Soul and Body seem at once laid out and I fancy all the Plummets of Eternal Night already hanging upon my Temples But whence proceed these Fears Certainly they are not idle Dreams nor the accidental Product of my Disease which disorders the Brains and fills 'em with odd Chimaera's Why should my Soul be averse to its Enlargement Why should it be content
upon Heaven or a God were to be impos'd on like my Fellow-Creature And dare I convicted of these High Treasons against the King of Glory dare I expect a Reprieve or Pardon Has he Thunder and are not all his Bolts levell'd at my Head to strike me through the very Center Yes I dare appeal to thee boundless pity and compassion My own Instances already tells me that thy Mercy is infinite for I 've done enough to shock Long-sufferance it self and weary out an Eternal Patience I beseech thee by thy soft and gentle Attributes of Mercy and Forgiveness by the last dying Accents of my suffering Deity have Pity on a poor humble prostrate and confessing Sinner And thou great Ransom of lost Mankind who offered'st thy self a Sacrifice to attone our Guilt and redeem our mortgag'd Happiness do thou be my Advocate and intercede for me with the angry Judge My Pray'rs are heard a glorious Light now shone And lo an Angel-Post comes hast'ning down From Heav'n I see him cut the yielding Air So swift he seems at once both there and here So quick my sight in the pursuit was slow And Thought could scarce so soon the Journey go No angry Message in his Look appears His Face no signs of threatning Vengeance wears Comly his shape of Heavenly Meen and Air Kinder than Smiles of beauteous Virginsare Such he was seen by the blest Maid of Old When he th' Almighty Infant 's Birth foretold A mighty Volume in one hand is born Whose open'd Leaves the other seems to turn Vast Annals of my Sins in Scarlet writ But now â—…as'd blot out and cancell'd quite Heark how the Heavenly Whisper strikes mine Ear Mortal behold thy Crimes all pardon'd here Hail Sacred Envoy of th' Eternal King Welcom as the blest Tidings thou dost bring Welcom as Heav'n from whence thou cam'st but now Thus low to thy great God and mine I bow And might I here O might I ever grow Fix'd an unmov'd and endless Monument Of Gratitude to my Creator sent TO THE MEMORY OF Mr. CHARLES MORWENT A PINDARIQUE Ignis utique quo clariùs effulsit citiùs extinguitur eripit se aufertque ex oculis subitò perfecta virtus quicquid est absoluti faciliùs transfluit optimi neutiquam diurnant Cambden de Phil. Syd O celeres hominum bonorum dies Apul. LONDON Printed in the Year 1684. To the Memory of my Dear Friend Mr. Charles Morwent A PINDARIQUE Ostendunt terris hunc tantùm fata nec ultrà Esse sinunt Virg. I. BEst Friend could my unbounded Grief but rate With due proportion thy too cruel Fate Could I some happy Miracle bring forth Great as my Wishes and thy greater Worth All Helicon should soon be thine And pay a Tribute to thy Shrine The learned Sisters all transform'd should be No longer nine but one Melpomene Each should into a Niobe relent At once thy Mourner and thy Monument Each should become Like the fam'd Memnon's speaking Tomb To sing thy well-tun'd Praise Nor should we fear their being dumb Thou still would'st make 'em vocal with thy Rays II. O that I could distil my vital Juice in Tears Or waste away my Soul in sobbing Airs Were I all Eyes To flow in liquid Elegies That every Limb might grieve And dying Sorrow still retrieve My Life should be but one long mourning day And like moist Vapors melt in Tears away I 'd soon dissolve in one great Sigh And upwards fly Glad so to be exhal'd to Heav'n and thee A Sigh which might well-nigh reverse thy death And hope to animate thee with new Breath Pow'rful as that which heretofore did give A Soul to well-form'd Clay and made it live III. Adieu blest Soul whose hasty Flight away Tells Heaven did ne'er display Such Happiness to bless the World with stay Death in thy Fall betray'd her utmost spice And shew'd her shafts most times are levell'd at the white She saw thy blooming Ripeness time prevent She saw and envious grew and straight her arrow sent So Buds appearing e'er the Frosts are past Nip'd by some unkind Blast Wither in Penance for their forward haste Thus have I seen a Morn so bright So deck'd with all the Robes of Light As if it scorn'd to think of Night Which a rude Storm e'er Noon did shroud And buried all its early Glories in a Cloud The day in funeral Blackness mourn'd And all to Sighs and all to Tears it turn'd IV. But why do we thy Death untimely deem Or Fate blaspheme We should thy full ripe Vertues wrong To think thee young Fate when she did thy vigorous Growth behold And all thy forward Glories told Forgot thy tale of Years and thought thee old The brisk Endowments of thy Mind Scorning i' th' Bud to be confin'd Out-ran thy Age and left slow Time behind Which made thee reach Maturity so soon And at first Dawn present a full-spread Noon So thy Perfections with thy Soul agree Both knew no Non-age knew no Infancy Thus the first Patern of our Race began His Life in middle-age at 's Birth a perfect Man V. So well thou acted'st in thy Span of Days As calls at once for Wonder and for Praise Thy prudent Conduct had so learnt to measure The different whiles of Toil and Leasure No time did Action want no Action wanted Pleasure Thy busie Industry could Time dilate And stretch the Thread of Fate Thy careful Thrift could only boast the Power To lengthen Minutes and extend an Hour No single Sand could e'er flip by Without its Wonder sweet as high And every teeming Moment still brought forth A thousand Rarities of Worth While some no other Cause for Life can give But a dull Habitude to live Thou scorn'dst such Laziness while here beneath And Liv'dst that time which others only Breath VI. Next our just Wonder does commence How so small Room could hold such Excellence Nature was proud when she contriv'd thy Frame In thee she labor'd for a Name Hence 't was she lavish'd all her Stoâ—…te As if she meant hereafter to be poor And like a Bankrupt run o' th Score He â—…rious Hand here drew in Straights and joyn'd All the Perfections lodgeâ—…in Humane kind Teaching her numerous Gifts to lie Crampt in a short Epitome So Stars contracted in a Diamond shine And Jewels in a narrow Point confine The Riches of an Indian Mine Thus subtle Artists can Draw Nature's larger self within a Span A small Frame holds the World Earth Heav'ns and all Shrunk to the scant Dimensions of a Ball. VII Those Parts which never in one Subject dwell But some uncommon Excellence foretel Like Stars did all constellate here And met together in one Sphere Thy Judgment Wit and Memory conspir'd To make themselves and thee admir'd And could thy growing Height a longer Stay have known Thou hadst all other Glories and thy self out-done While some to Knowledge by Degrees arrive Thro tedious Industry improv'd Thine scorn'd by such pedantick Rules to thrive But swift