with winter glasse The ayry Caucasus the Apennine Pyrenes clifts where Sun doth never shine When he some craggy Hills hath ever-went Begins to thinke â—n rest his Journey spent Till mounting some tall Mountainâ— he do find More hights before him than he left behind With halting pace so while I would me raise To the unbounded limits of thy Praise Some part of way I thought to have o're-run But now I see how scarce I have begun With Wonders new my Spirits range possest And wandring waylesse in a maze them rest In these vaste Fields of Light etheriall Plaines Thou art attended by immortall Traines Of Intellectuall Pow'rs which thou broughtst forth To praise thy Goodnesse and admire thy Worth In numbers passing others Creatures far Since Creatures most noble maniest are Which do in knowledge us not lesse out-run Than Moon in light doth Stars or Moon the Sun Unlike in Orders rang'd and many a Band If Beauty in Disparity doth stand Arch-angels Angels Cherubs Seraphines And what with name of Thrones amongst them shines Large-ruling Princes Dominations Pow'rs All-acting Vertues of those flaming Tow'rs These freed of Umbrage these of Labour free Rest ravished with still beholding Thee Inflam'd with Beames which sparkle from thy Face They can no more desire far lesse embrace Low under them with slow and staggering pace Thy Hand-maid Nature thy great Steps doth trace The Source of second Causes golden Chaine That links this Frame as thou it doth ordaine Nature gaz'd on with such a curious Eye That Earthlings oft her deem'd a Deity By Nature led those Bodies faire and great Which faint not in their Course nor change their State Unintermixt which no disorder prove Though aye and contrary they alwaies move The Organs of thy Providence divine Books ever open Signâ—s that clearely shine Times purpled Maskers then do them advance As by sweet Musick in a measur'd dance Stars Hoste of Heaven ye Firmaments bright Flow'rs Cleare Lamps which overhang this Stage of ours Ye turne not there to deck the Weeds of Night Nor Pageant-like to please the vulgar Sight Great Causes sure ye must bring great Effects But who can descant right your grave Aspects He only who Yoâ— made decipher can Your Notes Heavens Eyes ye blind the Eyes of Man Amidst these Saphir far-extending Hights The never-twinkling ever-wandring Lights Their fixed Motions keep one dry and cold Deep-Leaden colour'd slowly there is roll'd With Rule and Line for Times steps meting even In twice three Lustres he but turnes his Heaven With temperate qualities and Countenance faire Still mildly smiling sweetly debonaire Another cheares the World and way doth make In twice sixe Autumnes through the Zodiack But hot and dry with flaming Locks and Brows Enrag'd this in his red Pavillion glows Together running with like speed â—f space Two equally in hands atchieve their race With blushing Face this oft doth bring the Day And ushers oft to stately Stars the way That various in vertue changing light With his small flame impearles the vaile of Night Prince of this Court the Sun in triumph rides With the Yeare Snake-like in her selfe that glides Times Dispensator faire life-giving Source Through Skies twelve Posts as he doth run his course Heart of this All of what is known to sence The likest to his Makers excellence In whose diurnall motion doth appeare A Shadow no true pourtrait of the Yeare The Moone moves lowest silver Sun of Night Dispersing through the World her borrow'd light Who in three formes her head abroad doth range And only constant is in constant Change Sad Queen of Silence I ne're see thy Face To waxe or waine or shine with a full grace But straight amaz'd on Man I think each Day His state who changeth or if he find Stay It is in dolefull anguish cares and paines And of his Labours Death is all the Gaines Immortall Monarch can so fond a Thought Lodge in my Brest as to trust thou first brought Here in Earths shady Cloyster wretched Man To suck the Aire of Woe to spend Lifes span ' Midst Sighs and Plaints a Stranger unto Mirth To give himselfe his Death rebucking Birth By sense and wit of Creatures made King By sense and wit to live their Underling And what is worst have Eaglets eyes to see His own disgrace and know an high degree Of Blâ—sse the Place if he might thereto clime And not live thralled to imperious Time Or dotard shall I so from Reason swerve To dim those Lights which to our use do serve For thou dost not them need more nobly fram'd Than us that know their course and have them nam'd No I ne're thinke but we did them surpasse As far as they do Asterismes of Glasse When thou us made by Treason high defil'd Thrust from our first estate we live exil'd Wandring this Earth which is of Death the Lot Where he doth use the Pow'r which he hath got Indifferent Umpire unto Clowns and Kings The supreame Monarch of all moâ—tall things When fiâ—st this flowry Oâ—be was to us given I but in place disvalu'd was to Heaven These Creatures which now our Soveraignes are And as to Rebels do denounce us war Then were our Vassals no tumultuous Storme No Thunders Earthquakes did her Forme deforme The Seas in tumbling Mountaines did not roare But like moist Christall whispered on the Shoare No Snake did trace her Meads nor ambusht lowre In azure Curles beneath the sweet-Spring Flow'r The Night shade Henbane Napell Aconite Her Bowels then not bare with Death to smite Her guiltlesse Brood thy Messengers of Grace As their high Rounds did haunt this lower Place O Joy of Joyes with our first Parents Thou To commune then didst daigâ—e as Friends do now Against thee we rebell'd and justly thus Each Creature rebelled against us Earth rest of what did chiefe in her excell To all became a Jaile to most a Hell In Times full Terme untill thy Son was given Who Man with Thee Earth reconcil'd with Heaven Whole and entire all in thy Selfe thou art All-where diffus'd yet of this All no part For infinite in making this faire Frame Great without Quantity in all thou came And filling all how can thy State admit Or Place or Substance to be void of it Were Worlds as many as the Rayes which streame From Daies bright lampe on madding Wits do dreame They would not reele in ought nor wandring stray But draw to Thee who could their Centers stay Were but one hours this World disjoyn'd from thee It in one houre to nought reduc'd should be For it thy Shadow is and can they last If sever'd from the Substances them cast O only blest and Author of all Blisse No Bliss it selfe that all where wished is Efficient exemplary finall Good Of thine own Selfe but only understood Light is thy Curtaine thou art Light of Light An ever-waking Eye still shining bright In-looking all exempt of passive Pow'r And change in change since Deaths pale shade doth low'r All Times to
â—râ—e whatever foggy Mists Do blind men in these sublunary Lists But what if she for whom thou spâ—nd'st those Groanes And wastes thy Lifes deare Torch in ruthfull Moanes She for whose sake thou hat'st the joyfull Light Courts solitary Shades and irkesome Night Doth live ah if thou canst through Teares a space Lift thy dimm'd Lights and look upon this Face Look if those Eyes which foole thou didst adore Shine not more bright than they were wont before Looke if those Roses Death could ought impaire Those Roses which thou once saidst were so faire And if these Locks have lost ought of that Golâ— Which once they had when thou them didst behold I live and happy live but thou art dead And still shalt be tâ—ll tâ—ou be lâ—ke me maâ—e Alas while we are wrapt in Gowns of Earth And blind here suck the Aire of Woe beneath Each thing in Senses Ballances we weigh And but with toyle and Paine the truth descry Above this vast and admirable Frame This Temple visible which World we name Within whose Walls so many Lamps do burne So many Arches with crosse motions turne Where the Elementall Brothers nurse their strife And by intestine Wars maintain their Life There is a World a World of perfect Blisse Pure immateriall as brighter far from this As that high Circle which the rest enspheares Is from this dull ignoble Vale of Teares A World where all is found that here is found But further discrepant than Heaven and Ground It hath an Earth as hath this World of yours With Creatures peopled and adorn'd with Flowr's It hath a Sea like Saphire Girdle cast Which decks of the harmonious Shores the Waste It hath pure Fire it hath delicious Aire Moone Sun and Stars Heavens wonderfully faire Flow'rs never there do fade Trees grow not old No Creature dieth there through heat or cold Sea there not tossed is nor Aire made blacke Fâ—re doth not greedy feed on others Wrack There Heavens be not constrain'd about to range For this World hath no need of any Change Minutes mount not to Houres nor Houres to Daies Daies make no Months but ever-blooming Maies Here I remaine and hitherward do tend All who their Span of Daies in Vertue spend What ever Pleasant this low Place containes Is but a Glance of what above remaines Those who perchance there can nothing be Beyond this wide Expansion which they see And that nought else mounts Stars Circumference For that nought else is subject to their sense Feele such a Case as one whom some Abisme In the deep Ocean kept had all his Time Who borne and nourish'd there cannot believe That elsewhere ought without those waves can live Cannot beleeve that there be Temples Tow'rs Which go beyond his Caves and dampish Bowr's Or there be other People Manners Laws Than what he finds within the churlish Waves That sweeter Flow'rs do spring than grow on Rocks Or Beasts there are excell the skaly Flocks That other Elements are to be found Than is the Water and this Ball of Ground But thinke that man from this Abisme being brought Did see what curious Nature here hath wrought Did view the Meads the tall and shady Woods And mark'd the hills and the cleare rowling flouds And all the Beasts which Nature forth doth bring The feathered Troupes that flie and sweetly sing Observ'd the Palaces and Cities faire Mens Fashion of Life the Fire the Aire The brightnesse of the Sun that dims his Sight The Moone and splendors of the painted Night What sudden rapture would his mind surprise How would he his late-deare Resort despise How would he muse how foolish he had been To thinke all nothing but what there was seen Why do we get this high and vast Desire Unto immortall things still to aspire Why doth our Mind extend it beyond Time And to that highest happinesse even clime For we are more than what to Sense we seeme And more than Dust us Worldlings do esteeme We be not made for Earth though here we come More than the Emâ—ryon for the Mothers Wombe It weeps to be made free and we complaine To leave this loathsome Jaile of Care and Paine But thou who vulgar foot-steps dost not trace Learne to rowse up thy mind to view this place And what Earth-creeping Mortals most affect If not at all to scorne yet not to neglect Seek not vaine shadows which when once obtain'd Are better los'd than with such travell gain'd Thinke that on Earth what worldlings Greatnesse call Is but a glorious title to live thrall That Scepters Diadems and Chaires of State Not in themselves but to small Minds are great That those who loftiest mount do hardest light And deepest Falls be from the highest Height That Fame an Eccho is and all Renown Like to a blasted Rose ere Night falls down And though it something were thinke how this Round Is but a little Point which doth it bound O leave that Love which reacheth but to Dust And in that Love Eternall only trust And Beauty which when once it is possest Can only fill the Soule and make it blest Pale Envy jealous Emulations Feares Sighs Plaints Remorse here have no place nor Teares False Joyes vaine Hopes here be not Hate nor Wrath What ends all Love here most augments it Death If such force had the dim Glance of an Eye Which but some few daies afterwards did die That it could make thee leave all other things And like a Taper-fly there burne thy Wings And if a voice of late which could but waile Such Power had as through Eares thy Soule to steale If once thou on that poorely Faire couldst gaze What Flames of Love would this within thee raise In what amusing Maze would it thee bring To â—eare but once that Quire celestiall sing The fairest shapes on which thy Love did sease Which earst didst breed Delight then would displease But Discords hoarse were Earths entising Sounds All Musick but a Noise which Sense confounds This great and burning Glasse which cleares all Eyes And musters with such Glory in the Skies That silver Star which with her purer Light Makes Day oft-Envy the eye pleasing Night Those golden letters which so brightly shine In Heavens great Volume gorgeously divine All wonders in the Sea the Earth the Aire Be but darke Pictures of that Soveraigne Faire And Tongues which still thus cry into your Eare Could ye amidst Worlds Cataracts them heare From fading things fond Men lift your Desire And in our Beauty his us made admire If we seeme faire O thinke how faire is he Of whose great Fairenesse Shadows Steps we be No Shadow can compare unto the Face No Step with that deare foot which did it trace Your Soules immortall are then place them hence And do not drown them in the Mist of Sense Do not O do not by false Pleasures Might Deprive them of that true and sole Delight That Happinesse ye seek is not below Earths sweetest Joy is but disguised Woe Here
Caledonian Crown Thy vertues now thy just desire shall grace Sterne Chance shall change and to Desert give place Let this be known to all the Fates admit To their grave Counsell and to every wit That courts Heavens inside this let Sibills know And those mad Corybants who dance and glow On Dindimus high tops with frantick fire Let this be known to all Apollo's Quire And People let it not be hid from you What Mountaines noyse and flouds proclaime as true Whereever Fame abroad his praise shall ring All shall observe and serve this blessed King The End of King Charles his Entertainment at Edenborough 1633. A Pastorall Elegie on the Death of S. W. A. IN sweetest prime and blooming of his Age Deare Alcon ravish'd from this mortall Stage The Shepheards mourn'd as they him lov'd before Among the Rout him Edmon did deplore Idmon who whether Sun in East did rise Or dive in West pour'd Torrents from his Eyes Of liquid Chrystall under Hawthorne shade At last to Trees and Rocks this plaint he made Alcon delight of Heaven desire of Earth Off-spring of Phoebus and the Muses birth The Graces Darling Adon of our Plaines Flame of the fairest Nymphs the Earth sustaines What Power of thee hath us bereft What Fate By thy untimely fall would ruinate Our hopes O Death what treasure in one houre Hast thou dispersed How dost thou devoure What we on earth hold dearest All things good Too envious Heavens how blast ye in the Bud The Corne the greedy Reapers cut not down Before the Fields with golden Eares it crown Nor doth the verdant Fruits the Gardener pull But thou art cropt before thy yeares were full With thee sweet youth the Glories of our Fields Vanish away and what contentments yields The Lakes their silver look the woods their shades The Springs their Christall want their Verdure Meads The yeares their early seasons cheerfull Dayes Hills gloomy stand now desolate of Rayes Their amorous whispers Zephires not us bring Nor do Aires Quiresters salute the Spring The freezing winds our Gardens do defloure Ah Destinies and you whom Skies embow'r To his faire Spoiles his Spright againe yet give And like another Phoenix make him live The Herbs though cut sprout fragrant from their stems And make with Crimson blush our Anademâ— The Sun when in the West he doth decline Heavens brightest Tapers at his Funeralls shine His Face when washt in the Atlantick Seas Revives and cheeres the Welkin with new Raies Why should not he since of more pure a Frame Returne to us againe and be the same But wretch what wish I To the winds I send These Plaints and Prayers Destines cannot lend Thee more of Time nor Heavens consent will thus Thou leave their starry World to dwell with us Yet shall they not thee keep amidst their Spheares Without these lamentations and Teares Thou wast all Vertue Courtesie and Worth And as Suns light is in the Moon set forth Worlds supreame Excellence in thee did shine Nor though eclipsed now shalt thou decline But in our Memories live while Dolphins streames Shall haunt whilst Eaglets stare on Titans beames Whilst Swans upon their Christall Tombes shall sing Whilst Violets with Purple paint the Spring A gentler Shepheard Flocks did never feed On Albions Hills nor sung to oaten Reed While what she found in Thee my Muse would blaze Griefe doth distract Her and cut short thy Praise How oft have we inviron'd by the Throng Of tedious Swaines the cooler shades among Contemn'd Earths glow-worme Greatnesse and the Châ—ce Of Fortune scorn'd deeming it disgrace To court unconstancy How oft have we Some Chloris Name graven in each Virgin Tree And finding Favours fading the next Day What we had carv'd we did deface away Woefull Remembrance Nor Time nor Place Of thy abodement shadows any Trace But there to me Thou shin'st late glad Desires And ye once Roses how are ye turned Bryers Contentments passed and of Pleasures Chiefe Now are ye frightfull Horrours Hells of Griefe When from thy native Soyle Love had Thee driven Thy safe returne Prefigurating a Heaven Of flattering Hopes did in my Fancy move Then little dreaming it should Atomes prove These Groves preserve will I these loved Woods These Orchards rich with Fruits with Fish these flouds My Alcon will returne and once againe His chosen Exiles he will entertaine The populous City holds him amongst Harmes Of some fierce Circe's stronger Charmes These Bankes said I he visit will and Streames These silent shades ne're kist by courting Beames Far far off I will meet him and I first Shall him approaching know and first be blest With his Aspect I first shall heare his voice Him find the same he parted and rejoyce To learne his passed Perills know the Sports Of forraine Shepheards Fawns and Fairy Courts No pleasure to the Fields an happy State The Swaines enjoy secure from what they hate Free of proud Cares they innocently spend The Day nor do black Thoughts their ease offend Wise Natures Darlings they live in the World Perplexing not themselves how it is hurld These Hillocks Phoebus loves Ceres these Plaines Thâ—se Shades the Sylvans and here Pales straines Milke in the Pailes the Maids which haunt the Springs Daunce on these Pastures here Amintas sings Hesperian Gardens Tempe's shades are here Or what the Easterne Inde and West hold deare Come then deare Youth the Wood-nymphs twine thee Boughs With Rose and Lilly to impale thy Brows Thus ignorant I mus'd not conscious yet Of what by Death was done and ruthlesse Fate Amidst these Trances Fame thy losse doth sound And through my Eares gives to my Heart a wound With stretched-out Armes I sought thee to embrace But clasp'd amaz'd a Coffin in thy Place A Coffin of our Joyes which had the Trust Which told that thou wert come but chang'd to Dust Scarce even when felt could I beleeve this wrack Nor that thy Time and Glory Heavens would breake Now since I cannot see my Alcons Face And find nor Vows nor Prayers to have place With guilty Stars this Mountaine shall become To me a sacred Altar and a Tombe To famous Alcon here as Daies Monthâ— Yeares Do circling glide I sacrifice will teares Here spend my remnant Time exil'd from Mirth Till Death at last turne Monarch of my Earth Shepheards on Forth and you by Doven Rocks Which use to sing and sport and keep your Flocks Pay Tribute here of Teares ye never had To aggravate your Moanes a cause more sad And to their sorrows hither bring your Mands Charged with sweetest flow'rs and with pure Hands Faire Nymphs the blushing Hyacinth and Rose Spred on the Place his Relicts do enclose Weave Garlands to his Memory and put Over his Hearse a Verse in Cypres cut Vertue did dye Goodnesse but harme did give After the noble Alcon ceas'd to live Friendship an Earthquake suffer'd losing Him Loves brightest Constellation turned Dim Hymne SAviour of Mankind Man Emanuel Who sinlesse died for Sin who
art not Great Nor glorious By this Monument turne wise One it enshrineth sprung of ancient stemm And if that Bloud Nobility can make From which some Kings have not disdain'd to take Their proud Descent a rare and matchlesse Gemm A Beauty here it holds by full assurance Than which no blooming Rose was more refin'd Nor Mornings Blush more radiant ever shinâ—d Ah! too too like to Morne and Rose at last It holds her who in Wits ascendant far Did Yeares and Sex transcend To whom the Heaven More Vertue than to all this Age had given For Vertue Meteor turn'd when she a star Faire Mirth sweet Conversation Modesty And what those Kings of Numbers did conceive By Muses Nine and Graces moe than Three Lye clos'd within the Compasse of this Grave Thus Death all Earthly glories doth confound Loe how much Worth a little Dust doth bound FAr from these Bankes exiled be all Joyes Contentments Pleasures Musick cares reliefe Tears Sighs Plaints Horrours Frightments sad Annoies Invest these Mountaines fill all Hearts with Griefe Here Nightingals and Turtles vent your moanes Amphrisian Shepheard here come feed thy Flocke And read thy Hyacinth amidst our Groanes Plaine Eccho thy Narcissus from our Rocks Lost have our Meads their Beauty Hills their Gemms Our Brooks their Christall Groves their pleasant shade The fairest Flow'r of all our Anademms Death cropped hath the Lesbia chaste is dead Thus sigh'd the Tyne then shrunke beneath his Urne And Meads Brooks Rivers Hills about did mourne THe Flower of Virgins in her Prime of yeares By ruthlesse Destinies is ta'ne away And rap'd from Earth poore Earth before this Day Which ne're was rightly nam'd a Vale of Teares Beauty to Heaven is fled sweet Modesty No more appeares She whose harmonious sounds Did ravish Sense and charme Minds deepest wounds Embaulm'd with many a Teare now low doth lye Faire Hopes now vanish'd are She should have grac'd A Princes Marriage-Bed but loe in Heaven Blest Paramours to her were to be given She liv'd an Angell now is with them plac'd Vertue is but a Name abstractly trimm'd Interpreting what she was in effect A shaddow from her Frame which did reflect A Pourtrait by her Excellencies limm'd Thou whom free-will or chance hath hither brought And read'st Here lies a Branch of Maitlands stemm And Sâ—ytons Off-spring know that either Name Designes all worth yet reacht by humane Thought Tombes else-where use Life to their Guests to give These Ashes can fraile Monuments make live Another on the same subject LIke to the Gardens Eye the Flower of Flow'rs With purple Pompe that dazle doth the Sight Or as among the lesser Gems of Night The Usher of the Planet of the Houres Sweet Maid thou shinedst on this World of ours Of all Perfectiâ—ns having trac'd the hight Thine outward frame was faire faire inward Powers A Saphire Lanthorne and an incense light Hence the enamour'd Heaven as too too good On Earths all-thorny soyle long to abide Transplanted to their Fields so rare a Bud Where from thy Sun no cloud thee now can hide Earth moan'd her losse and wish'd she had the grace Not to have known or known thee longer space HArd Laws of mortall Life To which made Thrales we come without consent Like Tapers lighted to be early spent Our Griefes are alwaies rife When joyes but halting march and swiftly fly Like shadows in the Eye The shadow doth not yeeld unto the Sun But Joyes and Life do waste even when begun On the Death of a Nobleman in Scotland buried at Aithen AIthen thy Pearly Coronet let fall Clad in sad Robes upon thy Temples set The weeping Cypresse or the sable Jet Mourne this thy Nurslings losse a losse which all Apollos Quire bemoanes which many yeares Cannot repaire nor Influence of Spheares Ah! when shalt thou find Shepheard like to him Who made thy Bankes more famous by his worth Then all those Gems thy Rocks and Streams send forth His splendor others Glow-worm light did dim Sprung of an ancient and a vertuous Race He Vertue more than many did embrace He fram'd to mildnesse thy halfe-barbarous swaines The Good-mans Refuge of the bad the fright Unparaleld in friendship worlds Delight For Hospitality along thy Plaines Far-fam'd a Patron and a Patterne faire Of Piety the Muses chiefe repaire Most debonaire in Courtesie supreame Lov'd of the meane and honour'd by the Great Ne're dasht by Fortune nor cast down by Fate To present and to after Times a Theame Aithen thy Teares poure on this silent Grave And drop them in thy Alabaster cave And Niâ—bes Imagery become And when thou hast distilled here a Tombe Eâ—chace in it thy Pearls and let it beare Aithens best Gem and honour shrin'd lies here FAme Register of Time Write in thy Scrowle that I Of Wisdome Lover and sweet Poesie Was cropped in my Prime And ripe in worth though green in yeares did dye IUstice Truth Peace and Hospitality Friendship and Love being resolv'd to dye In these lewd Times have chosen here to have With just true pious their Grave Them cherish'd he so much so much did grace That they on Earth would choose none other Place WHen Death to deck his Trophees stop thy breath Rare Ornament and Glory of these Parts All with moist Eyes might say and ruthfull hearts That things immortall vassal'd were to Death What Good in Parts on many shar'd we see From Nature gracious Heaven or Fortune flow To make a Master-Piece of worth below Heaven Nature Fortune gave in grosse to Thee In Honour Bounty Rich in Valour Wit In Courtesie Borne of an ancient Race With Bayes in war with Olives crown'd in Peace Match'd great with Off-spring for great Actions fit No Rust of Times nor Change thy Vertue wan With Times to change when Truth Faith Love decay'd In this new Age like Fate thou fixed stay'd Of the first World an all-substantiall Man As earst this Kingdome given was to thy Syre The Prince his Daughter trusted to thy Care And well the credit of a Gem so rare Thy loyalty and merit did require Yeares cannot wrong thy Worth that now appeares By others set as Diamonds among Pearles A Queens deare Foster Father to three Earles Enough on Earth to triumph are o're yeares Life a Sea-voyage is Death is the Haven And fraught with honour there thou hast arriv'd Which Thousands seeking have on Rocks been driven That Good adornes thy Grave which with thee liv'd For a fraile Life which here thou didst enjoy Thou now a lasting hast â—reed of Annoy WIthin the Closure of thiâ— Narrow Grave Lye all those Graces a Good-wife could have But on this Marble they shall not be read For then the Living envy would the Dead THe Daughter of a King of Princely Parts In Beauty eminent in Vertues chiefe Loadstar of Love and Loadstone of all hearts Her Friends and Husbands only Joy now Griefe Is here pent up within a Marble Frame Whose Paralell no Times no Climates claime VErses fraile Records are to keep a Name Or raise from Dust Men to a Life of Fame The sport and spoyle of Ignorance but far More fraile the Frames of Touch and Marble are Which envy Avarice Time e're long confound Or mis-devotion equalls with the Ground Vertue alone doth last frees man from Death And though despis'd and scorned here beneath Stands grav'n in Angels Diamantine Roles And blazed in the Courts above the Poles Thou wast faire Vertues Temple they did dwell And live ador'd in thee nought did excell But what thou either didst possesse or love The Oraces Darling and the maids of Jove Courted by Fame for Bounties which the Heaven Gave thee in great which if in Parcels given Too many such we happy sure might call How happy then wast thou who enjoyedst them all A whiter Soule ne're body did invest And now sequestred cannot be but blest Inroâ—â—'d in Glory ' midst those Hierarchies Of that immortall People of the Skies Bright Saints and Angels there from cares made free Nought doth becloud thy soveraign Good from Thee Thou smil'st at Earths Confusions and Jars And how for Centaures Children we wage wars Like honey Flies whose rage whole swarmes consumes Till Dâ—st thrown on them makes them vaile their plumes Thy friends to thee a Monument would raise And â—imne thy Vertues but dull griefe thy Praise Breakes in the Entrance and our Taske proves vaine What duty writes that woe blotâ— out againe Yet Love a Pyramid of Sighs thee reares And doth embaulme thee with Fare-wells and Teares Rose THough Marble Porphyry and mourning Touch May praise these spoiles yet can they not too much For Beauty last and this Stone doth close Once Earths Delight Heavens care a purest Rose And Reader shouldst thou but let fall a Teare Upon it other flow'rs shall here appeare Sad Violets and Hyacinths which grow With markes of griefe a publike losse to show II. Relenting Eye which dâ—ignest to this Stone To lend a look behold here he laid one The Living and the Dead interr'd for Dead The Turtle in its Mate is and she fled From Earth her choos'd this Place of Griefe To bound Thoughts a small and sad Reliefe His is this Monument for hers no Art Could frame a Pyramide rais'd of his Heart III. Instead of Epitaphs and airy praise This Monument a Lady chaste did raise To her Lords living fame and after Death Her Body doth unto this Place bequeath To rest with his till Gods shrill Trumpet sound Though time her Life no time her loâ—â— could bound To Sir W. A. THough I have twice been at the Doores of Death And twice found shut those Gates which ever mourn This but a Lightning is Truce ta'ne to Breath For late borne sorrows augure fleet return Amidst thy sacred Cares and Courtly Toyles Alexis when thou shalt heare wandring Fame Tell Death hath triumph'd o're my mortall Spoyles And that on Earth I am but a sad Name If thou e're held me deare by all our Love By all that Blisse those Joyes Heaven here us gave I conjure thee and by the Maids of Jove To grave this short remembrance on my Grave Here Damon lies whose Songs did sometime grace The murmuring Esk may Roses shade the place FINIS
those within but to come forth do venter That stately Place againe they never enter The Precinct's strengthened with a Ditch of Feares In which doth swell a Lake of Inky Teares Of madding Lovers who abide their moaning And thicken even the Aire with pitious groaning This Hold to brave the Skies the Destines fram'd And then the Fort of Chastity is nam'd The Queen of the third Heaven once to appall it The God of Thrace Here brought who could not thrall it For which he vow'd ne're Arms more to put on And on Riphean Hils was heard to groan Here Psyches Lover hurles his Darts at randon Which all for nought him serve as doth his Brandon What grievous Agony did invade my Mind When in that Place my Hope I saw confin'd Where with high-towring Thoughts I only reacht her Which did burne up their Wings when they approacht her Me thought I set me by a Cypresse shade And Night and Day the Hyacinthe there read And that bewailing Nightingales did borrow Plaints of my Plaint and sorrows of my Sorrow My food was Worm-wood mine own Teares my drinke My rest on Death and sad Mishaps to thinke And for such Thoughts to have my Heart enlarged And ease mine Eyes with brinie Tribute charged Over a Brook I laid my pining Face But then the Brooke as griev'd at my Disgrace A Face Me shew'd so pin'd sad over-clouded That at the Sight afray'd mine Eyes them shrowded This is the guerdon Love this is the Game In end which to thy Servants doth remaine More would I say when Feare made Sleep to leave me And of those fatall Shadows did bereave me But ah alas instead to dreame of Love And Woes I now them in effect did prove For what into my troubled Braine was painted Awak'd I found that Time and Place presented SONNETS AH burning Thoughts now let me take some Rest And your tumultuous Broyles a while appease Is 't not enough Stars Fortune Love molest Me all at once but ye must too displease Let Hope though false yet lodge within my brest My high Attempt though dangerous yet praise What though I trace not right Heavens steppy waies It doth suffice my Fall shall make me blest I do not doat on Daies I feare not Death So that my Life be good I wish't not long Let me Renown'd live from the Worldly Throng And when Heaven lists recall this borrowed Breath Men but like Visions are Time all doth claime He lives who dies to win a lasting Name SON THat learned Grecian who did so excell In Knowledge passing Sense that he is nam'd Of all the after Worlds Divine doth tell That all the Time when first our Soules are fram'd Ere in these Mansions blind they come to dwell They live bright Rayes of that Eternall light And others see know love in Heavens great height Not toyld with ought to Reason do rebell It is most true for straight at the first sight My Mind me told that in some other place It elsewhere saw th' Idea of that face And lov'd a love of Heavenly pure delight What wonder now I feele so faire a flame Sith I her lov'd ere on this Earth She came SON NOr Arne nor Mincius nor stately Tiber Sebethus nor the Flood into whose streames He fell who burnt the world with borrowed beames Gold-rolling Tagus Munda famous Iber Sorgue Rosne Loire Garron nor proud-banked Seinâ— Peneus Phasis Xanthus humble Ladon Nor She whose Nymphes excell her loved Adon Faire Tamesis nor Ister large nor Rheine Euphrates Tigrâ—s Indus Hermus Gange Pearly Hydaspes Serpent-like Meander The Floud which robbed Hero of Leander Nile that far far his hidden Head doth range Have ever had so rare a cause of praise As Ora where this Northerne Phoenix stayes SON TO heare my plaints faire River Christalline Thou in a silent slumber seems to stay Delicious Flowers Lilly and Columbine Ye bow your Heads when I my Woes display Forrests in you the Mirtle Palme and Bay Have had compassion listning to my groanes The Winds with sighs have solemniz'd my moanes 'Mong leaves which whisper'd what they could not say The Caves the Rocks the Hills the Sylvans Thrones As if even pitty did in them appeare Have at my sorrow rent their ruthlesse stones Each thing I find hath sence except my Deare Who doth not thinke I love or will not know My Griefe perchance delighting in my woe SON SWeet Brook in whose cleare Christall I my eyes Have oft seen great in labour of their teares Enamell'd Banke whose shining gravell beares These sad Characters of my miseries High Woods whose mounting tops menace the Sphears Wild Citizens Amphions of the Trees You gloomy Groves at hottest Noons which freeze Elysian shades which Phoebus never cleares Vaste solitary Mountaines pleasant Plaines Embroydred Meads that Ocean-waies you reach Hills Dales Springs All whom my sad cry constraines To take part of my plaints and learne woes speech Will that remorselesse faire e're pity show Of grace now answer if ye ought know No. SON WIth flaming Horns the Bull now brings the yeare Melt do the Mountains rouling flouds of Snow The silver Rivers in smooth Channels flow The Late-bare Woods green Anadeams do weare The Nightingall forgetting Winters woe Cals up the lazy Morne her notes to heare Spread are those Flow'rs which names of Princes beare Some red some azure white and golden grow Here lowes a Heifer there be-wailing strayes A harmelesse Lambe not far a Stag rebounds The Shepheards sing to grazing flocks sweet Layes And all about the Ecchoing Aire resounds Hils Dales Woods Flouds ev'ry thing doth change But She in rigour I in Love am strange SON THat I so slenderly set forth my Mind Writing I wot not what in ragged Rimes Orecharg'd with brasse in these so golden Times When otherâ— towre so high am left behind I crave not Phoebus leave his sacred Cell To bind my Brows with fresh Aonian Baies But leave 't to those who tuning Sweetest Laies By Tempe sit or Aganippes Well Nor yet to Venus Tree do I aspire Sith She for whom I might affect that praise My best attempts with cruell words gainsaies And I seek not that others me admire Of weeping Myrrhe the Crowne is which I crave With a sad Cypresse to adorne my Grave MADRIGALL WHen as She smiles I find More light before mine Eyes Than when the Sun from Inde Brings to our World a flowry Paradise But when She gently weeps And poures forth pearly showers On cheeks faire blushing flowers A sweet melancholy my senses keeps Both feed so my disease So much both do me please That oft I doubt which more my heart doth burne Love to behold her smile or Pitty mourne SON MY Teares may well Numidian Lions tame And Pity breed into the hardest heart That ever Pyrrha did to Maid impart When She them first of blushing Rocks did frame Ah Eyes which only serve to waile my smart How long will you my inward Woes proclaime May 't not suffice
in the Aire By sporting childrens Breath Who chase it every where And strive who can most motion it bequeath And though it sometime seem of its own might Like to an Eye of gold to be fix'd there And firme to hover in that empty height That only is because it is so Light But in that Pompe it doth not long appeare For when 't is most admired in a thought Because it earst was nought it turnes to nought SON MY Lute be as thou wert when thou did grow With thy green Mother in some shady Grove When immelodious Winds but made thee move And Birds their ramage did on thee bestow Since that deare voice which did thy sounds approve Which wont in such harmonious Straines to â—low Is reâ—t from Earth to tune those spheares above What art thou but a Harbinger of woe Thy pleasing Notes he pleasing Notes no more But Orphans wailings to the fainting Eare Each Stroke a sigh each Sound draws forth a Teare For which be silent as in woods before Or if that any hand to touch thee daigne Like widow'd Turtle still her losse complaine SON AH Handkercher sad present of my Deare Gift miserable which doth now remaine The only Guerdon of my helplesse Paine When I thee got thou shewst my state too cleare I never since have ceased to complaine I since the Badge of Griefe did ever weare Joy in my Face durst never since appeare Care was the Food which did me entertaine But since that thou art mine O do not grieve That I this Tribute pay thee for mine Eine And that I this short Time I am to live Laundre thy silken Figures in this Brine No I must yet even beg of thee the Grace That in my Grave thou daigne to shroud my Face MAD. TRees happier far than I Which have the grace to heave your Heads so high And over-look those Plaines Grow till your Branches kisse that lofty Skie Which her sweet selfe containes There make her know mine endlesse Love and Paines And how these Teares which from mine Eyes do fall Helpt you to rise so Tall Tell her as once I for her sake lov'd Breath So for her sake I now court lingring Death SONG SAd Damon being come To that for-ever Lamentable Tombe Which those eternall Powers that all controule Unto his living Soule A melancholy prison had prescrib'd Of Colour Heat and motion depriv'd In Armes weake Fainting Cold A Marble he the Marble did infold And having warme it made with many a showre Which dimmed Eyes did poure When Griefe had given him leave and sighs them staied Thus with a sad alas at last he said Who would have thought to me The place where thou did'st lie could grievous be And that deare body long thee having sought O me who would have thought Thee once to find it should my Soule confound And give my Heart then death a deeper wound Thou did'st disdaine my Teares But grieve not that this ruthfull Stone them beares Mine Eyes for nothing serve but thee to weep And let that course them keep Although thou never wouldst them comfort show Do not repine they have part of thy woe Ah wretch too late I find How Vertues glorious Titles prove but wind For if that Vertue could release from Death Thou yet enjoy'd hadst Breath For if she ere appear'd to mortall Eine It was in thy faire shape that she was seen But O! if I was made For thee with thee why too am I not dead Why do outragious Fates which dimm'd thy sight Let me see hatefull light They without me made Death thee surprise Tyrants no doubt that they might kill me twice O Griefe And could one Day Have force such excellence to take away Could a swift-flying Moment ah deface Those matchlesse gifts that Grace Which Art and Nature had in thee combin'd To make thy Body paragon thy Mind Hath all pass'd like a cloud And doth eternall silence now them shroud Is that so much admir'd now nought but Dust Of which a Stone hath Trust O change O cruell change thou to our sight Show'st the Fates Rigour equall to their Might When thou from earth diâ—'st passe Sweet Nymph Perfections Mirrour broken was And this of late so glorious World of ours Lâ—ke Medows without Flowers Or Ring of a rich Gem which blind appear d Or Starless night or Cynthia nothing clear'd Love when he saw thee dye Entomb'd him in the lid of either Eye And left his Torch within thy sacred Vrne There for a Lampe to burne Worth Honour Pleasure with thy life expir'd Death since grown sweet begins to be desir'd Whilst thou to us wert given The Earth her Venus had as well as Heaven Nay and her Suns which burnt as many Hearts As he the easterne parts Bright Suns which forc'd to leave these Hemispheares Benighted set into a Sea of Teares Ah Death who shall thee flie Since the most mighty are o'rethrown by thee Thou spar'st the Crow and Nightingall dost kill And triumphst at thy will But give thou cannot such another Blow Because Earth cannot such another show O bitter sweets of Love How better is 't at all you not to prove Nor when we do your pleasures must possesse To find them thus made lesse O! That the cause which doth consume our joy Would the remembrance of it too destroy What doth this life bestow But Flow'rs on Thornes which grow Which though they sometime blandish soft delight Yet afterwards us smite And if the rising Sun them faire doth see That Planet setting doth behold them die This world is made a Hell Depriv'd of all that in it did excell O Pan Pan Winter is fallen in May Turn'd is to night our Day Forsake thy Pipe a Scepter take to thee Thy locks disgarland thou black Jove shall be The Flocks do leave the Meads And loathing three leav'd Grasse hold up their Heads The Streames not glide now with a glentle Rore Nor Birds sing as before Hills stands with clouds like Mourners vail'd in black And Owles upon our Roofes foretell our wrack That Zephire every yeare So soone was heard to sigh in Forrests here It was for her that wrapt in Gowns of Greene Meads were so earely seen That in the saddest Months oft sang the Mearles It was for Her for her Trees dropt forth pearles That proud and stately Courts Did envy these our Shades and calme Resorts It was for Her and she is gone O woe Woods cut againe do grow But doth the Rose and Dazy winter done But we once dead do no more see the Sun Whose Name shall now make ring The Ecchoes of whom shall the Nymphets sing Whose heavenly voice whose Soule-invading Straines Shall fill with Joy the plaines What Haire what Eyes can make the Morne in East Weep that a fairer riseth in the West Faire Sun post still away No Musicke here is left thy Course to stay Sweet Hybla Swarmes with Wormewood fill your Bow'râ— Gone is the flower of Flow'rs Blush no more Rose nor Lilly
you Heaven that all containes And thou my Soule let nought thy Griefes relent Those Hands those sacred Hands which hold the reines Of this great All and kept from mutuall wars The Elements beare rent for thee their Veines Those Feet which once must trade on golden Stars For thee with Nails would be pierc'd through and torn For thee Heavens King from Heaven himselfe debars This great heart-quaking Dolour waile and mourne Yee that long since Him saw by might of Faith Ye now that are and ye yet to be borne Not to behold his great Creators Death The Sun from sinfull eyes hath vail'd his light And faintly journies up Heavens saphyre Path And cutting from her Brows her Tresses bright The Moone doth keep her Lords sad Obsequâ—es Impearling with her Teares her Robe of Night All staggering and lazie lowre the Skies The Earth and elementall Stages quake The long-since dead from bursted Graves arise And can things wanting sense yet sorrow take And beare a part with him who all them wrought And Man though borne with cries shall pitty lack Thinke what had been your state had he not brought To these sharpe Pangs himselfe and priz'd so high Your soules that with his Life them life he bought What woes do you attend if still ye lye Plung'd in your wonted ordures wretched Brood Shall for your sake againe God ever die O leave deluding shews embrace true good He on you calls forgo Sins shamefull trade With Prayers now seek Heaven and not with Bloud Let not the Lambs more from their Dams be had Nor Altars blush for sin live every thing That long time long'd for sacrifice is made All that is from you crav'd by this great King Is to beleeve a pure Heart Incense is What gift alas can we him meaner bring Haste sin-sick Soules this season do not misse Now while remorselesse Time doth grant you space And God invites you to your only Blisse He who you calls will not deny you Grace But low-deep bury faults so ye repent His Armes loe stretched are you to embrace When Daies are done and Lifes small sparke is spent So you accept what freely here is given Like brood of Angels deathlesse all-content Ye shall for ever live with him in Heaven COme forth come forth ye blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Town Come see that King which all this All commands Now overcharg'd with Love die for his own Look on those Nailes which pierce his Feet and Hands What a sharpe Diadem his Brows doth crown Behold his pallid Face his heavy frown And what a throng of Thieves him mocking stands Come forth ye Empyrean Troupes come forth Preserve this sacred Bloud that Earth adornes Gather those liquid Roses off his Thornes O! to be lost they be of too much worth For Streams 1 Juice 2 Balm 3 they are which quench 1 kills 2 charmes 3 Of God 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the wrath 1 the life 2 the harmes3. SOule whom Hell did once inthrall He He for thine offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soveraigne Excellence O life of all that lives Eternall Bounty which each good thing gives How could Death mount so high No wit this Point can reach Faith only doth us teach He died for us at all who could not dye LIfe to give life deprived is of Life And Death display'd hath Ensigne against Death So violent the Rigour was of Death That nought could daunt it but the Life of Life No Power had Pow'r to thrall Lifes Pow'rs to Death But willingly Life down hath laid Life Love gave the wound which wrought this worke of Death His Bow and Shafts were of the Tree of Life Now quakes the Author of eternall Death To find that they whom late he rest of Life Shall fill his Roome above the lists of Death Now all rejoyce in Death who hope for Life Dead Jesus lies who Death hath kill'd by Death No Tombe his Tombe is but new Source of Life RIse from those fragrant Climes thee now embrace Unto this World of Ours O haste thy Race Faire Sun and though contrarie waies all yeare Thou hold thy course now with the highest Sheare Joyne thy blew Wheeles to hasten Time that low'rs And lazy Minutes turne to perfect Houres The Night and Death too long a league have made To stow the World in Horrours ugly shade Shake from thy Locks a Day with Safron raies So faire that it outshine all other daies And yet do not presumâ— great Eye of Light To be that which this Day must make so bright See an Eternall Sun hasts to arise Not from the Easterne blushing Seas or Skies Or any stranger Worlds Heavens Concaves have But from the Darknesse of an hollow Grave And this is that all-powerfull Sun above That crown'd thy Brows with Rays first made thee moâ— Lights Trumpeters ye need not from your Bow'rs Proclaime this Day this the angelick Pow'rs Have done for you But now an opall hew Bepaints Heavens Christall to the longing view Earths late hid Colours shine Light doth adorne The World and weeping Joy forth comes the Morne And with her as from a Lethargick Trance The breath return'd that Bodies doth advance Which two sad Nights in Rock lay coffin'd dead And with an iron Guard invironed Life out of Death Light out of Darknesse springs From a base Jaile forth comes the King of Kings What late was mortall thrall'd to every woe That lackeys life or upon sense doth grow Immortall is of an eternall Stampe Far brighter beaming than the morning Lampe So from a black Ecclipse out-peares the Sun Such when her course of Daies have on her run In a far Forrest in the pearly East And she her selfe hath burnt and spicie Nest The lovely Bird with youthfull Pens and Combe Doth sore from out her Cradle and her Tombe So a small seed that in the Earth lies hid And dies reviving bursts her cloddy Side Adorn'd with yellow Locks of new is borne And doth become a Mother great with Corne Of Graines brings hundreds with it which when old Enrich the Furrows which do float with Gold Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile That Hell doth ransake against Death prevaile O how thou long'd for com'st with joyfull cries The all-triumphing Palatines of Skies Salute thy rising Earth would Joyes no more Beare if thou rising didst them not restore A silly Tombe should not his Flesh enclose Who did Heavens trembling Tarasses dispose No Monument should such a Jewell hold No Rock though Ruby Diamond and Gold Thou didst lament and pitty humane Race Bestowing on us of thy free-given Grace More than we forfeited and losed first In Eden Rebells when we were accurst Then Earth our portion was Earths Joyes but given Earth and Earths Blisse thou hast exchang'd with heaven O what a hight of good upon us streames From the great splendor of thy Bounties Beames When we deserv'd shame horrour flames of wrath Thou bledst our wounds and suffer didst
vanquisht Hell The first fruits of the Grave whose life did give Light to our Darknes in whose death we live O strengthen thou my faith correct my will That mine may thine obey protect me still So that the latter death may not devour My soule seal'd with thy Seale so in the houre When thou whose body sanctified thy Tombe Unjustly judg'd a glorious Judge shalt come To judge the World with Justice by that signe I may be known and entertained for thine A Translation Of S. John Scot his verses begining Quod vite sectabor iter WHat course of life should wretched Mortals take In Books hard Questions large contention make Care dwels in Houses Labour in the Field Tumultuous Seas affrighting dangers yield In Forraine Lands thou never canst be blest If rich thou art in feare if poore distrest In Wedlock frequent discontentments swell Unmarried persons as in Deserts dwell How many troubles are with Children borne Yet he that wants them counts himselfe Forlorne Young men are wanton and of wisdome voyd Gray haires are cold unfit to be employ'd Who would not one of those two offers try Not to be borne or being borne to dye MISCELLANIES ALL good hath left this Age all tracks of shâ—me Mercy is banished and pitty dead Justice from whence it came to heaven is fled Religion maim'd it thought an idle Name Faith to distrust and Malice hath given place Envy with poyson'd Teeth hath friendship torne Renowned Knowledge is a despis'd scorne Now evill 't is all evill not to embrace There is no life save under servile Bands To make Desert a Vassall to their crimes Ambition with Avarice joyne hands O ever-shamefull O most shamelesse Times Save that Suns light we see of good here tell This Earth we court so much were very Hell DOth then the world go thus doth all thus move Is this the Justice which on Earth we find Is this that firme Decree which all doth bind Are these your Influences Powers above Those Soules which vices moody Mists most blind Blind Fortune blindly most their friend doth prove And they who thee poore Idoll Vertue love Ply like a feather toss'd by storme and wind Ah! if a Providence doth sway this All. Why should best Minds groane under most distresse Or why should Pride Humility make thrall And injuries the Innocent oppresse Heavens â—inder stop this Fate or grant a Time When Good may have as well as Bad their Prime A Reply WHo do in Good delight That soveraigne Justice ever doth reward And though sometime it smite Yet it doth them regard For even amidst their Griefe They find a strong reliefe And Death it selfe can work them no despight Againe in evill who joy And do in it grow old In midst of Mirth are charg'd with sins annoy Which is in Conscience scrol'd And when their Life 's fraile thred is cut by Time They punishment find equall to each Crime LOok how in May the Rose At Sulphures azure fumes In a short space her crimson blush doth lose And all amaz'd a pallid white assumes So time our best consumes Makes Youth and Beauty passe And what was pride turnes horrour in our Glasse To a Swallow building neare the Statue of Medea FOnd Progne chattering wretch That is Medea there Wilt thou thy Younglings hatch Will she keep thine her own who could not spare Learne from her frantick face To seek some fitter place What other may'st thou hope for what desire Save Stygian spels wounds poyson iron fire Venus armed TO practice new alarmes In Joves great Court above The wanton Queen of Love Of sleeping Mars put on the horrid Armes Where gazing in a Glasse To see what thing she was To mock and scoffe the blew-eyed Maid did move Who said sweet Queen thus should you have been â—ight When Vulcan took you napping with your Knight The Boares Head AMidst a pleasant Green Which Sun did seldome see Where play'd Anchises with the Cyprian Queen The head of a wild Boare hung on a Tree And driven by Zephyres breath Did fall and wound the lovely Youth beneath On whom yet scarce appeares So much of bloud as Venus eyes shed teares But ever as she wept her Antheme was Change cruell change alas My Adoâ— whilst thou liv'd was by thee slaine Now dead this Lover must thou kill againe To an Owle AScalaphus tell me So may Nights Curtaine long Time cover Thee So Ivy ever may From irkesome light keep thy Chamber and Bed And in Moons Liv'ry cled So may'st thou scorne the Quiresters of Day When playning thou dost stay Neare to the sacred window of my deare Dost ever thou her heare To wake and steale swift houres from drowsie sleep And when she wakes doth ere a stollen sigh creep Into thy list'ning eare If that deafe God doth yet her carelesse keep In louder notes my Griefe with thine expresse Till by thy shriekes she think on my distresse Daphnis NOw Daphnis armes did grow In slender branches and her braided Haire Which like gold waâ—â—s did flow In leavy Twigs were stretched in the Aire The grace of either foot Transform'd was to a root A tender Barke enwraps her Body faire He who did cause her ill Sore-wailing stood and from his blubbered eyâ—e Did show'rs of teares upon the rine distill Which water'd thus did bud and turne more green O deep despaireâ— O Heart-appalling Griefe When that doth woe encrease should bring reliefe The Beare of Love IN woods and desart Bounds A Beast abroad doth Roame So loving Sweetnesse and the honey Combe It doth despise the armes of Bees and wounds I by like pleasure led To prove what Heavens did place Of sweet on youâ— faire face Whilst there with I am fed Rest carelesse Beare of Love of hellish smart And how those Eyes afflict and wound my Heart Five Sonnets for Galatea STrephone in vaine thou brings thy rimes and songs Deckt with grave Pindars old and withered flow'rs In vaine thou count'st the faire 〈◊〉 wrongs And her whom Jove deceiv'd in golden show'rs Thou hast slept never under Mirtles shed Or if that passion hath thy soule opprest It is but for some Grecian Mistris dead Of such old sighs thou dost discharge thy brest How can true Love with â—ables hold a place Thou who with â—ables dost set forth thy love Thy love a pretty â—able needs must prove Thou suest for grace in scorne more to disgrace I cannot thinke thou wert charm'd by my looks O no thou learn'dst thy love in Lovers books II. NO more with Candid words infect mine eares Tell me no more how that ye pine in anguish When â—ound ye sleep no more say that ye languish No more in sweet despite say you spend teares Who hath such hollow eyes as not to see How those that are haire-brain'd boast of Apollo And bold give out the Muâ—es do them follow Though in loves Library yet no Lover's he If we poore soules least favour but them shew That straight in wanton Lines abroad is blazed