cause her feet are now Iambick made Refrigerium NOw through each vein my blood doth run Hot as the Summers scorching Sun Whilst on what side so è'r I turn With double frying flames I burn To cool both Aelna's first I 'l have An Arbour coole as is the grave And with green shadie branches wove As covert as Dodona's grove So that the Sun may not appear At all in this close Hemisphere With Curran-bushes I 'l hav 't made Vail'd o'r with Sycamores coole shade And mixt with Rasps and Cherrytrees Whose choice fruit may my pallat please I' th' midst of which next shal be spread Upon a large and spacious stead A frost-upon-green tabbie Quilt Water'd as if 't had there bin spilt Strew'd o'r with Roses where I may Naked my lazie limbs display And underneath't a Christal stream Of fresh Rose-water still'd from them Through th' limbeck of my body that My smelling Sense may recreate A marble Fountain next I 'l have Close by in a large hollow cave Springing with Nilus seav'nfold streams Til they all meet in one fair Thames Washing in whose pure waters we Diana and her Nymphs may see With other lively Pictures that My Seeing sense may recreate Next I wil have Arion play Upon a Dolphins back whose lay Shal teach each bird to chirp and trie How to excel his harmonie Orpheus his harp Apollo's lyre Shal with the Syrens fill the Quire With other sorts of Musick that My hearing Sense may recreate A Mirmaid next I 'l have in stead o th' Barber for to kemb my head All the four Winds too shal conspire With gentle breize to coole my fire Till I being fann'd with Ladies love Then their cold Sex shall colder prove Last because nought cools better then A Maid who warms and cooles agen I 'l have a young plump amorous Queen Ripe though she be not yet fifteen 'Twixt whose close arms and snowie breast I may diffuse my heat and rest Then bath my self in kisses that My Feeling Sense may recreate Thus when at once I all my Senses please Me thinks I feel my self in Paradise ELEGIES By Robert Heath Esquire LONDON Printed for HUMPHRY MOSELEY and are to be sold at his Shop at the signe of the Princes Arms in S. Pauls Church-yard 1650. Elegies On the Death of the young and pious Ladie Mrs C. P. SO yong and ripe in judgement fit for heaven A Saint shee was on earth before eleven What Virtue was there lodg'd in this smal world Whose soul grew faster then the body could Sins shee had none but what curst Nature gave Yet e'r she knew 't shee long'd this world to leave Where but new enter'd she with pious rage Her Prologue spoke doth bravely quit the stage Oh happy growth that in so short a time This early blossome thus to heav'n could climb Epicedium On the beautiful Lady Mrs A. K. unfortunately drowned by chance in the Thames in passing the Bridge DRown'd and i' th' Thames oh how I grieve to see Such fair streams act so foul a Tragedie Not all thy main which twice a day doth flow Can wash this guilt from off thy conscious brow Like the dead sea thou look'st whilst every wave Thou wear'st now seems to be another grave Forgetful Lethe or the Stygian Lake As thou foul Tyber looks not halfe so black How horrid thou appear'st and thou dost tast Sowre and not half so pleasant as thou wast Rome now wil fear to drink thee since thou 'rt dyde With such chast guiltlesse blood and none wil ride More on thy ruder waves thy crueltie Since 't would not spare so fair a Saint as shee How I could flow with anger chide thee too But thou art innocent as pure I know 'Las 't was her Fate unhappy Destinie Thus to thy streams to adde more puritie Thou 'rt become white agen an Element Fit to receive a soul so innocent Whose body buried in thy Christal tomb Transparent lies scorning earths baser womb Gilt Tagus banks nor the Pectalian Can boast such Golden treasures as you can Thou didst but lend her to the Earth awhile Thou hast thy Pearl again now Thamis smile 'T is fit such gems should by the makers hands Shine thus transplanted to their native sands On the Death of the excellent fair Lady the Lady A. R. HOw blindly erting were those Painters that Did without eies grim Death delineate Did he not ayming shoot and shooting hit 'Midst the Arcadian Nymphs this fairest white This whitest Venus Dove without his light How had he found this mark or shot so right Thus as he aiming stood and in his heart Relenting doubted whether his fel dart He should or spare or send so long he gaz'd Upon her Beauties splendour all amaz'd That the bright raies she darted did so shine And dazle the beholding Archers eyne That whilst he trembling shot and made her light Extinct the beams of that put out his sight And so e'r since Death hath been blind indeed On her fair Tomb this Epitaph shal be read Beautie here on Death reveng'd Triumphant lies Whose Glories won all hearts put out all eies On the losse of Mr N. W. his three finggers cut off at the battel of Edgehil he being both a Poet and a Musitian BY some it hath been said That the best Musick is by discord made But here I grieve to see By discords we have lost our harmonie How cruel was that hand Depriv'd thee of thy cunning fingers and At one unhappy blow Cut off an Orpheus and a Poet too How sadly the strings rest E'r since those fingers which before exprest On them such lively art Were thus dissected from their constant part Yet though these joynts be gone To quiet ease two fingers stil are on Which with dexteritie Can write the Epitaph o' th' t'other three And though you cannot play Yet stil both sing and versifie you may Naenia Upon the death of my dear friend T. S. Esquire slain at the first fight at Newbery 1645. PAle Ghost I weep not 'cause thy precious blood Honour'd when spilt a cause so just so good Nor grieve I 'cause so much that suffer'd too I' th' losse of such a Champion as you This makes my heart afresh with thy wounds bleed A Loyal Subject and my friend is dead One whose unborrow'd native Wit proclaim'd Him sole Apollo's heire whose Vertues fam'd Him with Pandora's gifts endow'd whose parts Did stile him Master of all noble Arts One whose Youths sprightful valour did encline To acts Heroick without help of wine One who prefer'd the cause he had in hand Above his life before his fathers land One that was forward yet not desp'rate bold A coward in ill acts yet durst behold Death in his uglyest vizar This was Hee Who lov'd his friend and feard no Enemie Who nobly thus did seek an early grave Because he scorn'd to live a subjects slave Wide was the Orifice sure of thy large wound Els had thy great and gallant soul ne'r
die Blushes through her modestie There a Pansie hangs his head 'Bout to shrink into his bed 'Cause so quickly she past by Not returning suddenly Here the Currans red and white In yon green bush at her sight Peep through their shady leaves and cry Come eat me as she passes by There a bed of Camomil VVhen she presseth it doth smel More fragrant than the perfum'd East Or the Phoeaix spicie nest Here the Pinks in rowes do throng To guard her as she walks along There the flexive Turnsole bends Guided by the raies shee sends From her bright eies as if thence It suckt life by influence VVhilst She the prime and chiefest flow'r In all the Garden by her pow'r And onely life-inspiring breath Like the warm Sun redeems from death Their drooping heads and bids them live To tel us Shee their sweets did give On the loss of Clarastella's black fan TEl me fair wonder when the gentle air Courted your wanton hair And hov'ring 'bout your face did beg a kiss Proud of so great a bliss Why did your envious Fan to it denie So chast a libertie Nor yet contented onely thus to do Why did you hide it too Why did you blind those lamps which both adorn And can mislead the Morn Believe me 't was unkindly done to skreen That light was to be seen Though the bright lustre of your orient eies Like the more pow'rful skies Or dazles me or sets my heart on fire When I so high aspire Your Bas'lisk look with its bewitching art Though it strike dead my heart And I stand Planet-struck when e'r I view So fair a star as you Yet do I languish like the drooping night In absence of your light For by your beams such warmth I do receive By which alone I live That if you draw a cloud before this light 'T is with me darkest night VVhen Morpheus once had on my drowsie bed His sable mantle spread And drawn the curtains of Heav'ns Canopie Had veild the starry skie In this Cimmerian slumber as I lay Me thought I wisht for day Expecting when the rosie-fingred Morn Should the black earth adorn When with his early raies he should affright The mistie shades of night At last he came and I beheld his steeds Deckt in their Royal weeds And fair Aurora purpling all the skie Enlightned ev'ry eie How glad was I and wisht that never night Might mask so great a light You were that Phosphor I thus long'd to see Hid in obscuritie And now your lustre breaks forth like the day Clad in her best array Oh happy loss by which I gain a sight As precious as the light To Clarastella on a Nosegay of flowers which she wore at her bosome IF Bees extract their sweetness from each flow'r As these theirs from your breast I thee devour Alive then Stella when I honey eat Rare food than Attick flow'rmel far more sweet Yet as rob'd flow'rs preserve their smel stil fair So these fresh in thy bosomes garden are Though blown on whose sweet dewes and Sun above Make them grow there feed us stil fragrant prove There 's scarce a sense but those thy flow'rs delight They please the touch the tast the smel the sight Yet thou the choisest dost this all and moe Thou sweetly dost our hearing ravish too Since like those subtle Chymists then you take Sweetness from them too one more exact to make Thy self which Nectar art oh hiv'd might I Feed on thy Honey and there melting lie Song INvest my head with fragrant Rose That on fair Flora's bosome grows Distend my veins with purple juyce That mirth may through my soul diffuse 'T is Wine and Love and love in wine Inspires our youth with flames divine Thus crown'd with Paphian myrtle I In Cyprian shades wil bathing lie Whose snow if too much cooling then Bacchus shal warm my blood agen 'T is Wine and Love c. Life's short and winged pleasures flie Who mourning live do living die On down and flouds then Swan-like I Wil stretch my limbs and singing die 'T is Wine and Love and love in wine Inspires our youth with flames divine On Clarastella discovered sleeping in her bed SLeep gentle soul and may a quiet rest Crown the sweet thoughts that harbour in thy brest Keep her ye pow'rs divine let no foul sight Afflict her mind no horrours of the night No fearful shapes or Apparitions Disturb her slumbers through sad visions I charge thee Morpheus thou pale God of sleep See thou from her distempers startings keep Let all her dreams be Golden let them taste Of heav'nly pleasures let them all be chast Delights Embraces Wishes and such new And prosp'rous hopes as may at length prove true Show her rich Crowns and Garlands then let love Chast as her sleep such as the Gods above Enjoy steal in her mind and represent The perfect Image of her blest content There let her fix and entertain awhile A parley with her thoughts then let her smile As pleas'd at th' conference or some other way By a soft sigh let her her love betray Thus please each sense with various delight And with fresh sights prevent her appetite Thus let her sleep secure that she may find At once both ease in body and in mind I charge you wake her not no noise draw neer Her bed to whisper in her quiet ear See how my charms have workt behold she lies Like Innocence her self in white her eies Shut 'gainst all worldly vanitie do show How little she regards this earth below Her soul within though active yet is stil Which speaks the calmness of her inward will The Zephyre wind doth not more gently blow Nor with so soft or stil a motion slow As her sweet breath from her here we may find The even pace of a wel-temper'd mind Bless me what thoughts possess my ravisht soul And stir my blood I can them not controul I 'm all enflam'd and yet I dare not do What the fair harmless object prompts me too She stirrs Oh! I must vanish quickly hence Lest I should wake her with some violence To her at departure THey erre That think we parted are Two souls in one we carry Half of which though it travel far Yet both at home do tarry The Sun When farthest off at Noon Our bodies shade draws nigher My soul your's shadow when I 'm gone Waits closer through desire Dear heart Then grieve not 'cause we part Since distance cannot sever For though my body walks apart Yet I am with you ever Elegiack Song LEnd me ye flouds your tears oh more Lend me al Neptun's watry store When he drownd all mankind that I May in this deluge drown and die She 's dead to me unhappy fate That love which burnt so clear of late Is now extinct oh help and I Wil weep hers and mine obsequie To Cupid Song THou that hast shot so many hearts With thy enchanted darts Young Archer if thou hast one more In all thy
after many yawns and feined shows Of a transported mind at last the Elf Delivers nonsence like the mouth of Delph Leave leave thou russet Rabbi leave for shame And do not thus abuse that holy name And function of a Preacher drive agen Currie thy horses and not Christian men Else prophane huckster with thy whip thou maist E'r long be scourg'd and forth the Temple cast On the unusual cold and rainie weather in the Summer 1648. WHy puts our Grandame Nature on Her winter coat e'r summers done What hath she got an ague fit And thinks to make us hov'ring sit Over her lazie Embers else why should Old Hyems freeze our vernal bloud Or as we each day grow older Doth the world wax wan and colder 'T is so See how nakt Charitie Sterves in this frozen age whilst we Have no other heat but glow-worm zeal Whose warmth we see but cannot feel All chang'd are Ceres golden hairs To clouded grey and nought appears In Flora's dresse our hopes do die And o th' sudden blasted lie Heav'ns glorious lamps do wast away The Elements themselves decay And the mixt bodies mutinie By a rebellious sympathie Whilst the distemper'd world grows pale And sickning threatens death to all So in an instant waters swept The old worlds monsters whilst they wept It's funeral but the new world's sins Are so deep di'd no floud can rinse Nothing but lightning and Heav'ns fire Can purge our pestilential aire Farewel to passionate Love FArewel fond Love I 'l never bow Slave like unto my fetters I Fair Sex I 'l not adore you now Yet love you as my libertie Love grown adust with Melancholy To madness turns or extream folly About and with your fires I 'l play But with as loose and gentle touch As boys from hand to hand toss away Live coals lest they should burn too much Too ne'r his heart who lets love come Suffers a wilful Martyrdome Stout Souldiers in an Enemies land March not too far sans fear or wit E'r they resolve or to withstand Or wisely make a safe retreat Bodies when joyn'd engaged are Piqueering's better sport by far The Excuse To the Ladie E. B. YOur lovely fair did first invite Me to that strange demand Your wanton eie big with delight Made me to understand You pleasant as your looks where every glance Did raise and court my warm bloud to advance Then blame not me for loving you Who if alow'd would not do so Henceforth I 'l sit demure by you Nor speak when you w'ud hear Just as I w'ud your picture view Behold you and admire For if I speak you prompt my tongue with love And 'cause I tel 't you you unkind reprove Then blame not me for saying so Since 't was your beauty bid me woe Equalitie To two fair Mistresses SHal I freize between two fires Or doth a numness ceaze on me Each star inflames me with desires Yet which to chuse I cannot see Since reason admires equally Then give me both For faith and troth I should be loath Each should not pleased be Or you who so perfect are That nature hath her self outdone In making you bright lights so fair Rule by your turns that so each one May cool the heat o th' to'other Sun And Love me both For faith and troth I should be loath Each should not pleased be To a friend Ode AFfect not aierie Popularitie But what thou wouldst be thought that strive to be Praise is but Virtues shadow who court her Doth more the handmaid then the Dame admire Who only doth wel wel spoke of to bee Studies the praise and not the virtue he To blaze thy virtues ne'r bespeak thy friend If good they speak thee and themselves commend Now men but judge by heare-say thus they 'l know And see thy worth and judge it greater too True worth is best displaid by modestie The greatest rivers slide most silentlie Only the shallow brooks do prattle they Make a great noise and go but little way Fame that doth feed o th' vaine applause of men Gapes to its Eccho to be heard agen And like this lives awhile by others breath Which being stopt is husht to silent death Good actions crown themselves with lasting baies Who deserves wel needs not anothers praise Virtue 's her own reward though Eugâ— none Wil cry 't is Guerdon yet to have wel done A sudden Phansie at Midnight HOw i st we are thus melancholie what Are our rich ferkins out or rather that Which did inspire them the Immortal wine That did create us like it self divine Or are we Nectar-sated to the hight Or do we droop under the aged night If so weelvote it ne'r to be eleven Rather then â—â—us to part at six and seaven Moult then thy speedy wings old Time and be As slow-pac't as becomes thy age that we May chirp awhile and when we take our ease Then flie and poast as nimbly as you please Play the good fellow with us and sit down A while that we may drink the to'ther round I 'l promise here is none shal thee misuse Or pluck thee by the foretop in abuse Time saies he wil nor can he stay 'cause he Thinks him too grave for your young companie It makes no matter Sirs How say you yet toth'tother Subsidie Yes yes And let our Ganymede nimbly flie And fil us of the same Poetick sherrie Ben-Iohnson us'd to quaffe to make him merrie Such as would make the grey-beard botles talk Had they but tongues or had they legs to walk Such as would make Apollo smile or wu'd Draw all the Sisters to our Brotherhood And though the bald Fool staies not let him know Wee l sit and drink as fast as he shal go So as the salt Anchovis swam in oyl Wee 'l make them swim again in sacks sweet spoil On a Map of the World accidentally faln into the water and spoiled THe world drown'd once agen sure holy text Saies it should be by fire dissolved next Deucalion then weeps for this world as much As once for th' old he did it's sins are such And as before he drown'd a world of men In figure thus by chance it sinks agen Who Plato's book of Commonwealth did view By mice devour'd and thought thence would ensue A fatal Period of the publick State Would ha' presag'd the like unhappy fate Had but he seen this were attending us And construed this dire chance as ominous I 'l not obtrude for truths Prophetick dreams Yet Mara's waters like Nil's seavnfold streams ' Tofore that gently did but wet this Land Now in a purple lake of bloud do stand And quite o'rwhelm't and which is worse we fear No Olivebranch wil e'r agen appear The Microcosme of individual man See how that wavers in an Ocean Of perillous inconstancie whilst phlegme And crude raw humours quench the fires in him That his split-sailes bear not the gentlest blast See how the Moral world in strife doth wast And by like jarring doth
strein To jeer each man in King Cambyses vein Blunt being toucht grew angry made reply Though I cann't prate yet you shal find that I Can fight and beat him soundly 't is the way Thus to cure madmen as I have heard say On Philip Soupe and Jone his wife LO I the tragick story sing o' th' life And death of Philip Soupe and Ione his wife A friendly pair of Turtles that did love Good fellowship and lusty ale above All earthly good for why they oft wu'd say 'T is high and mighty Ale doth griefs allay And when 't is nappy and spirituall Ale is both meat and drink and cloath and all For all 's included in this sentence Ale Le ts drink it then they cryd or new or stale It hap't these two once wanting companie Which made them sad and sadness made them drie Set foot to foot and tryd the masterie Each lookt to th' to'ther too with narrow eie Phil drunk to Iug and Iug cryd Phil again Til none could stand or speak one sentence plain Fild up toth' throat when both could drink no more And th' rest o' th' drink left running 'bout the floor 'Cause neither could the spicket wield aright Resolving as 't was time to sleep that night They shok their cloaths off both at last and so Stumbled into their beds with much ado But oh the sad disasters that befel them At this encounter You anon shal smel them For when Iug rows'd to buss her Philip she Her stomack being o'r-charg'd did rain a sea Of pow'rful Ale in poor Phil's face and breast Whose gaping mouth and stomack thus opprest With the receipt of his wives spew'd-up liquor Grew sick no vomit could have made him sicker He turn'd and groan'd as if he were to die Then straightwaies fac't about and furiously Reverst he charg'd her body with his rear On her right flanck all-to-bedighting her Then he drew up and spew'd then charg'd agen Til he had routed all her bodie then After a Parley sounded Iug did say Thou 'rt pestlence hot draw off now Philip pray The place soon grew too hot indeed for them For the foul Stygian lake did never steam With such gross vapours as did thence arise Ready to choak them both in woful wise At last Phil reacht for th' Iordan where he might Convert his Ale to Lees but missing it He fel a ground the like did Iug bety'd Who reaching for the drink o' th' other side Fel down with th' chamberpot upon her head Beside themselves and both beside the bed Nak'd and asleep i' th' morning both were found In pickle prostrate on the spawled ground Sad chance this loving couple never were Known until now to Fal out anywhere Oh cursed Ale could thus part man and wife 'T was in their cups let that excuse the strife On Poet Cordus a Rimer WHen Poet Cordus writes he oftentimes Doth wier draw his matter to his rimes Provide but reason rime wil flow but he Harps more upon the words then sence I see On Fusk WHy should Fusk of his wife so jealous be Unless his own sins taught him jealousie For we are often more suspicious far Of that wherein our selves most guilty are Some rather think Fusk insufficient And 'cause he cannot give his wife content Therefore he fears she seeks abroad for why Women they wil be satisfi'd or cry Some say he thinks she 's wiser far then he And so turns Envie into jealousie Stil the fault lies in him not her you see While Fusk grows lean with triple jealousie To an old deformed Woman THou art a Remedie for love for he That thee beholds in love shal never be To Cit. I Wonder Cit thou art so confident Sure I ne'r gave thee such encouragement I never borrowed of thee nor was I Ever once drunk in thy base companie Nor did you e'r pimp for me or bid me come To dinner with your friendly wife at home You ne'r yet offer'd to be bound for me Nor canst claim kinred by affinitie How dare you then be so familiar With me what do you think because you are Free of the City and in time may be The grave Cinquater of your Companie Or 'cause sometimes you walk in scarlet gowne Reverenc'd by boys and watermen o th' town Or 'cause your sattin doublet 's girt with gold I 'm therefore bound to you are you thus bold Because you are grown rich by wicked gain To your shop Squundrel and your wares again And converse there with thy Apprentices If thou 'lt oblige me with true curtesies And lend gentilely then perhaps I 'l own Thee for a friend else thou 'rt a Cit be gone To Plagiarie FEloniously thou stealst anothers wit 'Cause sure thou art to have thy book for it Thou art no learned thief yet for although Thou readest wel thou canst not write wel too To Lysippus a Barber LYsippus some mistane have said that you Are a Barbarian but I think a Jew You circumcise so much and for your ends So smoothly stroak the faces of your friends Making young novices of all that you Can circumvent thus you are a Barbarous Jew To a corrupt Judge WHy thou so dear dost law and Justice sel Dost hear and take on either side so wel I wonder not the Court Seianus made Thee buy thy place so dear as some have said Great reason then that who so dear doth buy Should th' price enhance when he doth sel as high Lydia encountered FRancis and Lydia in a jeasting way Each other strove to jeer he won the day At last and silenc'd her at which she grew So vext that in her passion she flew Upon young Francis and 'twixt rage and fear Saluted him with a fair box o' th' ear He threw her down o' th' bed and kist her ' til She cri'd agen for madness 'gainst her wil Oh sweet revenge who would not thus fall out If he might have but such a kissing bout Kiss and be friends was the old way you know Of reconciling so it seems 't was now On Gaming SOme play for gain to pass time others play For nothing both do play the Fool I say Nor time or coin I 'l lose or idly spend Who gets by play proves loser in the end On Brag. BRag his right glove draws often off and on To show his wounds on each occasion Tel not for shame Brag where thou gotst those scars A tavern broil did mark thee not the wars To Cosmo REading my verses Cosmo wonders why They swel not with Poetique Historie Why I not use their pretty fables whence I may suck matter to enlarge my sence As now to speak of Danae's golden show'r Then of Narcissus turn'd into a flow'r Ixions wheel or Sysiphu his stone Or how the Moon kiss'd lov'd Endymion Then to display Medusa's snakie locks Or talk of wise Pandora and her box Or him that wisht that all he toucht were gold And how this granted all his meat resolv'd At the