Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	cruelty_n	fame_n	great_a	25	3	2.1020	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A55276	Poems on affairs of state from the time of Oliver Cromwell, to the abdication of K. James the Second. Written by the greatest wits of the age. Viz. Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Rochester, Lord Bu-------st, Sir John Denham, Andrew Marvell, Esq; Mr. Milton, Mr. Dryden, Mr. Sprat, Mr. Waller. Mr. Ayloffe, &c. With some miscellany poems by the same: most whereof never before printed. Now carefully examined with the originals, and published without any castration.	Buckingham, George Villiers, Duke of, 1628-1687.	1697 (1697)	Wing P2719A; ESTC R26563	139,358	261

well you 've thought upon the chiefest Cause Change nothing of Religion nor the Laws Let the great Monarch this good Motto wear Not only in his Arms but every-where Integer Vitae is my whole Defence Scelerisque purus a most strong Defence Non eget Mauri that no Forces need Jaculis nec Arcu which contentions breed Nec venenatis gravida Sagittis Pharetra to make Loyal his own Cities Vpon the Execrable Murder of the Honourable Arthur Earl of Essex MOrtality wou'd be too frail to hear How ESSEX fell and not dissolve with fear Did not more generous Rage take off the Blow And by his Blood the steps to vengeance show The Tow'r was for the Tragedy design'd And to be slaughter'd he is first confin'd As fetter'd Victims to the Altar go But why must noble ESSEX perish so Why with such fury dragg'd into his Tomb Murther'd by Slaves and sacrific'd to Rome By Stealth they kill and with a secret Stroke Silence that Voice which charm'd when'er it spoke The bleeding Orifice o'erflow'd the Ground More like some mighty Deluge than a Wound Through the large space his Blood and Vitals glide And his whole Body might have past beside The reeking Crimson swell'd into a Flood And stream'd a second time in Capel's Blood He 's in his Son again to death pursu'd An instance of the high'st Ingratitude They then malitious Stratagems employ With Life his dearer Honour to destroy And make his Fame extinguish with his Breath And act beyond the Cruelties of Death Here Murther is in all its shapes complete As Lines united in their Centre meet Form'd by the blackest Politicks of Hell Was Cain so dev'lish when his Brother fell He that contrives or his own Fate desires Wants Courage and for fear of Death expires But mighty ESSEX was in all things brave Neither to Hope nor to Despair a Slave He had a Soul too Innocent and Great To fear or to anticipate his Fate Yet their exalted Impudence and Guilt Charge on himself the precious Blood they spilt So were the Protestants some Years ago destroy'd in Ireland without a Foe By their own barbarous Hands the Mad men dye And massacre themselves they know not why Whilst the kind Irish howl to see the Gore And pious Catholicks their Fate deplore If you refuse to trust erroneous Fame Royal Mac-Ninny will confirm the same We have lost more in injur'd Capel's Heir Than the poor Bankrupt Age can e'er repair Nature indulg'd him so that there we saw All the choice Stroakes her steady Hand cou'd draw He the Old English Glory did revive In him we had Plantagenets alive Grandeur and Fortune and a vast Renown Fit to support the Lustre of a Crown All these in him were potently conjoyn'd But all was too ignoble for his Mind Wisdom and Vertue properties Divine Those God-like ESSEX were entirely thine In this great Name he 's still preserv'd alive And will to all succeeding Times survive With just Progression as the constant Sun Doth move and through its bright Ecliptick run For whilst his Dust does unextinguish'd lye And his blest Soul is soar'd above the Sky Fame shall below his parted Breath supply An Essay upon Satyr By J. Dr en Esquire HOW dull and how insensible a Beast Is Man who yet would Lord it o'er the rest Philosophers and Poets vainly strove In every Age the lumpish Mass to move But those were Pedants when compar'd with these Who know not only to instruct but please Poets alone found the delightful way Mysterious Morals gently to convey In charming Numbers so that as men grew Pleas'd with their Poems they grew wiser too Satyr has always shone among the rest And is the boldest way if not the best To tell men freely of their foulest Faults To laugh at their vain Deeds and vainer Thoughts In Satyr too the Wise took different ways To each deserving its peculiar praise Some did all Folly with just sharpness blame Whilst others laugh'd and scorn'd them into shame But of these two the last succeeded best As men aim rightest when they shoot in jest Yet if we may presume to blame our Guides And censure those who censure all besides In other things they justly are preferr'd In this alone methinks the Ancients err'd Against the grossest Follies they disclaim Hard they pursue but hunt ignoble Game Nothing is easier than such blots to hit And 't is the Talent of each vulgar Wit Besides t is labour lost for who would preach Morals to Armstrong or dull Aston teach 'T is being devout at Play wise at a Ball Or bringing Wit and Friendship to Whitehall But with sharp Eyes those nicer faults to find Which lie obscurely in the wisest Mind That little speck which all the rest does spoil To wash off that would be a noble Toil Beyond the loose-writ Libels of this Age Or the forc'd Scenes of our declining Stage Above all Censure too each little Wit Will be so glad to see the greater hit Who judging better though concern'd the most Of such Correction will have cause to boast In such a Satyr all wou'd seek a share And every Fool will fancy he is there Old Story-tellers too must pine and dye To see their antiquated Wit laid by Like her who miss'd her Name in a Lampoon And grieved to find her self decay'd so soon No common Coxcomb must be mention'd here Not the dull train of dancing Sparks appear Not fluttering Officers who never fight Of such a wretched Rabble who would write Much less half Wits that 's more against our Rules For they are Fops the other are but Fools Who would not be as silly as Dunbarr As dull as Monmouth rather than Sir Carr The cunning Courtier should be slighted too Who with dull Knavery makes so much adoe Till the shrew'd Fool by thriving too too fast Like Aesop's Fox becomes a Prey at last Nor shall the Royal Mistresses be nam'd Too ugly or too easie to be blam'd With whom each rhyming Fool keeps such a pother They are as common that way as the other Yet santering Charles between his beastly Brace Mee●s with dissembling still in either place Affected Humour or a painted Face In Loyal Libels we have often told him How one has Jilted him the other sold him How that affects to laugh how this too weep But who can rail so long as he can sleep Was ever Prince by two at once mis-led False foolish old ill-natur'd and ill-bred Earnely and Aylesbury with all that Race Of busie Block-heads shall have here no place At Council set as foils on D 's score To make that great false Jewel shine the more Who all that while was thought exceeding wise Only for taking pains and telling lies But there 's no medling with such nausceous Men Their very Names have tyr'd my lazy Pen 'T is time to quit their company and chuse Some fitter Subject for a sharper Muse. First let 's behold the merriest Man alive Against his careless Genius

bring the chosen People from Their slavery and fears Led them through their pathless Road Guided himself by God He hath brought them to the Borders but a second hand Did settle and secure them in the promis'd Land Vpon the late Storm and Death of the late Vsurper Oliver Cromwell ensuing the same By Mr. Waller WE must resign Heav'n his great Soul does claim In Storms as loud as his immortal Fame His dying Groans his last Breath shakes our Isle And Trees uncut fall for his Funeral Pile About his Palace their broad roots are tost Into the Air So Romulus was lost New Rome in such a Tempest mist their King And from obeying fell to worshipping On Oeta's top thus Hercules lay dead With ruin'd Oaks and Pines about him spread The Poplar too whose Bough he wont to wear On his victorious Head lay prostrate there Those his last Fury from the Mountain rent Our dying Hero from the Continent Ravish'd whole Towns and Forts from Spaniards rest As his last Legacy to Britain left The Ocean which so long our hopes confin'd Could give no limits to his vaster Mind Our bounds inlargement was his latest Toil Nor hath he left us Prisoners to our Isle Under the Tropick is our Language spoke And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our Yoke From civil broils he did us disingage Found nobler Objects for our Martial Rage And with wise Conduct to his Country shew'd Their ancient way of conquering abroad Ungratefull then if we no tears allow To him that gave us Peace and Empire too Princes that fear'd him griev'd concern'd to see No pitch of Glory from the Grave is free Nature her self took notice of his Death And sighing swell'd the Sea with such a breath That to remotest shores her Billows rowl'd Th' approaching Fate of her great Ruler told Directions to a Painter concerning the Dutch War By Sir John Denham 1667 NAY Painter if thou dar'st design that Fight Which Waller only Courage had to write If thy bold hands can without shaking draw What ev'n th' Actors trembled at when they saw Enough to make thy Colours change like theirs And all thy Pencils bristle like their Hairs First in fit distance of the prospect Main Paint Allen tilting at the Coast of Spain Heroick act and never heard till now Stemming of Herc'les pillars with the Prow And how he lest his ship the hills to wast And with new Sea-marks Cales and Dover graft Next let the flaming London come in view Like Nero's Rome burnt to re-build it new What lesser Sacrifice than this was meet To offer for the safety of the Fleet Blow one ship up another thence will grow See what free Cities and wise Courts can do So some old Merchant to insure his name Marries afresh and Courties share the Dame So whatsoe'er is broke the Servants pay 't And Glasses are more durable than Plate No May'r till now so rich a Pageant feign'd Nor one Barge all the Companies contain'd Then Painter draw Cerulean Coventry Keeper or rather Chancellor o' th' Sea And more exactly to express his hue Use nothing but Ultra-Marinish Blue To pay his Fees the Silver Trumpet spends And Boat-swains whistle for his place depends Pilots in vain repeat their Compass o're Until of him they learn that one point more The constant Magnet to the Pole doth hold Steel to the Magnet Coventry to Gold Muscovy sells us Pitch and Hemp and Tar Iron and Copper Sweden Munster War Ashly Prize Warwick Customs Cart'ret Pay But Coventry doth sell the Fleet away Now let our Navy stretch its Canvas Wings Swoln like his Purse with tackling like his strings By slow degrees of the increasing gale First under Sail and after under Sale Then in kind visit unto Opdam's Gout Hedge the Dutch in only to let them out So Huntsmen fair unto the Hares give Law First find them and then civilly withdraw That the blind Archer when they take the Seas The Hambrough Convoy may betray with ease So that the Fish may more securely bite The Angler baits the River over night But Painter now prepare t' inrich thy piece Pencil of Ermins Oyl of Ambergreece See where the Dutchess with triumphant trail Of numerous Coaches Harwich doth assail So the Land-Crabs at Natures kindly call Down to ingender to the Sea do crawl See then the Admiral with the Navy whole To Harwich through the Ocean carry Coal So Swallows buried in the Sea at Spring Return to Land with Summer in their Wing One thrifty Ferry-boat of Mother-pearl Suffic'd of old the Citharean Girl Yet Navies are but Fopperies when here A small Sea-mask and built to court your Dear Three Goddesses in one Pallas for Art Venus for Sport but Juno in your Heart O Dutchess if thy Nuptial pomp was mean 'T is paid with interest in thy Naval scene Never did Roman Mark within the Nile So feast the fair Aegyptian Crocodile Nor the Venetian Duke with such a state The Adriatick marry at that rate Now Painter spare thy weaker art forbear To draw her parting Passions and each Tear For Love alas hath but a short delight The Sea the Dutch the King all call'd to fight She therefore the Duke's person recommends To Brunker Pen and Coventry her Friends To Pen much Brunker more most Coventry For they she knew were all more fraid than he Of flying Fishes one had sav'd the Fin. And hop'd by this he thro' the Air might spin The other thought he might avoid the Knell By the invention of the Diving Bell The third had try'd it and affirm'd a Cable Coyld round about him was impenetrable But these the Duke rejected only chose To keep far off let others interpose Rupert that knew no fear but Health did want Kept State suspended in a Chair volant All save his Head shut in that wooden case He shew'd but like a broken Weatherglass But arm'd with the whole Lyon Cap-a-Chin Did represent the Hercules within Dear shall the Dutch his twinging anguish know And see what Valour whet with pain can do Curst in the mean time be that treach'rous Jael That thro' his Princely Temples drove the Nail Rupert resolv'd to fight it like a Lyon And Sandwich hop'd to fight it like Arion He to prolong his Life in the dispute And charm'd the Holland Pirates tun'd his Lute Till some judicious Dolphin might approach And land him safe and sound as any Roach Now Painter reassume thy Pencils care Thou hast but skirmisht yet now fight prepare And draw the Battle terrible to shew As the last Judgment was of Angelo First let our Navy scowr thro' Silver Froth The Oceans burthen and the Kingdoms both Whose very bulk may represent its birth From Hide and Paston burthens of the Earth Hide whose transcendent Panch so swells of late That he the Rupture seems of Law and State Paston whose Belly bears more millions Than Indian Carracks and contains more Tuns Let shoals of Porpoises on every side Wonder in swimming by our Oaks

that less to him than us were given XI Our former Chief like Sticklers of the War First sought t' inflame the parties then to poise The quarrel lov'd but did the cause abhor And did not strike to hurt but make a noise XII War our Consumption was their gainfull Trade He inward bled whilst they prolong'd our pain He fought to hinder fighting and assay'd To stanch the blood by breathing of the Vein XIII Swift and resistless through the Land he past Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue And made to Battles such Heroick hast As if on wings of Victory he flew XIV He fought secure of Fortune as of Fame Still by new Maps the Island might be shewn Of Conquests which he strew'd where-e'er he came Thick as the Galaxy with Stars is sown XV. His Palms though under weights they did not stand Still thriv'd no Winter could his Laurels fade Heaven in his Portraict shew'd a Workman's hand And drew it perfect yet without a shade XVI Peace was the price of all his toil and care Which War had banish'd and did now restore Bolognia's Walls thus mounted in the Air To seat themselves more surely than before XVII Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes And treacherous Scotland to no int'rest true Yet bless'd that Fate which did his Arms dispose Her Land to civilize as to subdue XVIII Nor was he like those Stars which only shine When to pale Mariners they storms portend He had his calmer influence and his Mein Did Love and Majesty together blend XIX 'T is true his Countenance did imprint an awe And naturally all Souls to his did bow As Wands of Divination downward draw And point to Beds where Sov'raign Gold doth grow XX. When past all offerings to Pheretrian Iove He Mars depos'd and Arms to Gowns made yield Successfull Councils did him soon approve As fit for close Intrigues as open Field XXI To suppliant Holland he vouchsaf'd a Peace Our once bold Rival in the British Main Now tamely glad her unjust claim to cease And buy our Friendship with her Idol Gain XXII Fame of th' asserted Sea through Europe blown Made France and Spain ambitious of his Love Each knew that side must conquer he would own And for him fiercely as for Empire strove XXIII No sooner was the French -man's Cause embrac'd Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweigh'd His Fortune turn'd the Scale where it was cast Though Indian Mines were in the other laid XXIV When absent yet we conquer'd in his Right For though that some mean Artists Skill were shewn In mingling Colours or in placing Light Yet still the fair Designment was his own XXV For from all Tempers he could Service draw The worth of each with its Allay he knew And as the Confident of Nature saw How she Complections did divide and brew XXVI Or he their single Vertues did survey By intuition in his own large Breast Where all the rich Ideas of them lay That were the Rule and Measure to the rest XXVII When such Heroick Vertue Heaven set out The Stars like Commons sullenly obey Because it drains them when it comes about And therefore is a Tax they seldom pay XXVIII From this high Spring our Foreign Conquests flow Which yet more glorious Triumphs do portend Since their Commencement to his Arms they owe If Springs as high as Fountains may ascend XXIX He made us Free-Men of the Continent Whom Nature did like Captives treat before To Nobler Preys the English Lion sent And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar XXX That old unquestion'd Pirate of the Land Proud Rome with dread the Fate of Dankirk heard And trembling wish'd behind more Alps to stand Although an Alexander were her Guard XXXI By his Command we boldly cross'd the Line And bravely fought where Southern Stars arise We trac'd the far-fetch'd Gold unto the Mine And that which brib'd our Fathers made our Prize XXXII Such was our Prince yet own'd a Soul above The highest Acts it could produce to shew Thus poor M●chanick Arts in publick move Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go XXXIII Nor dy'd he when his ebbing Fame went less But when fresh Laurels courted him to live He seem'd but to prevent some new Success As if above what Triumphs Earth can give XXXIV His latest Victories still thickest came As near the Center Motion doth increase Till he press'd down by his own weighty Name Did like the Vestal under spoils decease XXXV But first the Ocean as a Tribute sent That Gi●nt Prince of all her wat'ry Herd And th'●sle when her protecting Genius went Upon his Obsequies loud sighs conferr'd XXXVI No civil Broils have since his Death arose But Faction now by habit does obey And Wars have that respect for his Repose As Winds for Halcyons when they breed at Sea XXXVII His Ashes in a peacefull Urn shall rest His Name a great Example stands to show How strangely high Endeavours may be blest Where Piety and Valour jointly go To the Reverend Dr. Wilkins Warden of Wadham College in Oxford SIR SEeing you are pleased to think fit that these Papers should come into the publick which were at first design'd to live only in a Desk or some private Friends hands I humbly take the boldness to commit them to the security which your Name and Protection will give them with the most knowing part of the World There are two things especially in which they stand in need of your Defence One is That they fall so infinitely below the full and lofty Genius of that excellent Poet who made this way of writing free of our Nation The other That they are so little proportioned and equal to the Renown of that Prince on whom they were written Such great Actions and Lives deserving rather to be the Subjects of the noblest Pens and divine Fancies than of such small Beginners and weak Essayers in Poetry as my self Against these dangerous Prejudices there remains no other Shield than the Universal Esteem and Authority which your Iudgment and Approbation carries with it The Right you have to them Sir is not only on the account of the Relation you had to this great Person nor of the general favour which all Arts receive from you but more particularly by reason of that Obligation and Zeal with which I am bound to dedicate my self to your Service For having been a long time the Object of you Care and Indulgence towards the advantage of my Studies and Fortune having been moulded as it were by your own Hands and formed under your Government not to intitle you to any thing which my meanness produces would not only be Injustice but Sacrilege So that if there be any thing here tolerably said which deserves pardon it is yours Sir as well as he who is Your most Devoted and Obliged Servant To the happy Memory of the late Usurper Oliver Cromwell By Mr. Sprat of Oxon Pindarick Odes I. T IS true great Name thou art

toil had spol'd a Play In hopes of eating at a full Third day Justly despairing longer to sustain A craving Stomach from an empty Brain Have left Stage-practice chang'd their old Vocations Attoning for bad Plays with worse Translations And like old Sternhold with laborious spite Burlesque what nobler Muses better write Thus while they for their causes only seem To change the Channel they corrupt the Stream So breaking Vintners to increase their Wine With nauseous Drugs debauch the generous Vine So barren Gipsies for recruit are said With Strangers Issue to maintain the Trade But lest the fair Bantling should be known A daubing Walnut makes him all their own In the head of this Gang too John Dryden appears But to save the Town-censure and lessen his Fears Joyn'd with a Spark whose title makes me civil For Scandalum Magnatum is the Devil Such mighty thoughts from Ovid's Letters flow That the Translation is a work for two Who in one Copy joyn'd their shame have shewn Since T e could spoil so many tho' alone My Lord I thought so generous would prove To scorn a Rival in affairs of Love But well he knew his teeming pangs were vain Till Midwife Dryden eas'd his labouring Brain And that when part of Hudibras's Horse Jogg'd on the other would not hang an Arse So when fleet Jowler hears the joyfull hallow He drags his sluggish Mate and Tray must follow But how could this learn'd brace employ their time One construed sure while th' other pump'd for Rhime Or it with these as once at Rome succeeds The Bibulus subscribes to Caesar's Deeds This from his Partners acts ensures his Name Oh sacred thirst of everlasting Fame That could defile those well-cut Nails with Ink And make his Honour condescend to think But what Excuse what Preface can attone For crimes which guilty Bayes has singly done Bayes whose Rose Alley Ambuscade injoyn'd To be to Vices which he practic'd kind And brought the venom of a spitefull Satyr To the safe innocence of a dull Translator Bayes who by all the Club was thought most fit To violate the Mantuan Prophet's wit And more debauch what loose Lucretius writ When I behold the rovings of his Muse How soon Assyrian Ointments she would lose For Diamond Buckles sparkling at their Shoes When Virgil's height is lost when Ovid soars And in Heroics Canace deplores Her Follies louder than her Father roars I 'd let him take Almanzor for his Theme In lofty Verses make Maximin blaspheme Or sing in softer Airs St. Katharine's Dream Nay I could hear him damn last Ages Wit And rail at Excellence he ne'er can hit His Envy shou'd at powerfull Cowley rage And banish Sense with Johnson from the Stage His Sacrilege should plunder Shakespear's Urn With a dull Prologue make the Ghost return To bear a second Death and greater pain While the Fiend's words the Oracle prophane But when not satisfied with Spoils at home The Pyrate wou'd to foreign Borders roam May he still split on some unlucky Coast And have his Works or Dictionary lost That he may know what Roman Authors mean No more than does our blind Translatress Behn The Female VVit who next convicted stands Nor for abusing Ovid's Verse but Sand's She might have learn'd from the ill borrow'd Grace VVhich little helps the ruin of her Face T●at VVit like Beauty triumphs o'er the Heart VVhen more of Nature 's seen and less of Art Nor strive in Ovid's Letters to have shown As much of Skill as Lewdness in her own Then let her from the next inconstant Lover Take a new Copy for a second Rover Describe the cunning of a jilting VVhore From the ill Arts her self has us'd before Thus let her write but Paraphrase no more R mer to Crambo privilege does claim Not from the Poet's Genius but his Name VVhich Providence in contradiction meant Though he Predestination coul'd prevent And with bold dulness translate Heavens intent Rash Man we paid thee Adoration due That ancient Criticks were excell'd by you Each little VVit to your Tribunal came To hear their doom and to secure their Fame But for respect you servilely sought praise Slighted the Umpire's Palm to court the Poet's Bays VVhile wise Reflections and a grave Discourse Declin'd to Zoons a River for a Horse So discontented Pemberton withdrew From sleeping Judges to the noisie Crew Chang'd awefull Ermin for a servile Gown And to an humble fawning smooth'd his frown The Simile will differ here indeed You cannot versify though he can plead To painfull Creech my last advice descends That he and Learning would at length be Friends That he 'd command his dreadfull forces home Not be a second Hannibal to Rome But since no Counsel his Resolves can bow Nor may thy fate O Rome resist his Vow Debarr'd from Pens as Lunaticks from Swords He should be kept from waging VVar with words VVords which at first like Atoms did advance To the just measure of a tunefull Dance And jumpt to form as did his worlds by chance This pleas'd the Genius of the vicious Town The VVits confirm'd his Labours with renown And swear the early Atheist for their own Had he stopt here but ruin'd by success VVith a new Spawn he fill'd the burthen'd Press Till as his Volumes swell'd his fame grew less So Merchants flattered with increasing gain Still tempt the falshood of the doubtfull Main So the first running of the lucky Dice Does eager Bully to new Bets intice Till Fortune urges him to be undone And Ames-Ace loses what kind Sixes won VVitness this truth Lucretia's wretched Fate VVhich better have I heard my Nurse relate The Matron suffers Violence again Not Tarquin's Lust so vile as Creech's Pen Witness those heaps his Mid-night Studies raise Hoping to Rival Ogilby in Praise Both writ so much so ill a doubt might rise Which with most Justice might deserve the Prize Had not the first the Town with Cutts appeas'd And where the Poem fail'd the Picture pleas'd Wits of a meaner Rank I wou'd rehearse But will not plague your Patience nor my Verse In long Oblivion may they happy lie And with their Writings may their Folly die Now why should we poor Ovid yet pursue And make his very Book an Exile too In words more barbarous than the place he knew If Virgil labour'd not to be translated Why suffers he the only thing he hated Had he foreseen some ill officious Tongue Wou'd in unequal Strains blaspheme his Song Nor Prayers nor Force nor Fame shou'd e'er prevent The just Performance of his wise Intent Smiling h 'had seen his Martyr'd Work expire Nor live to feel more cruel Foes than Fire Some Fop in Preface may those Thefts excuse That Virgil was the draught of Homer's Muse That Horace's by Pindar's Lyre was strung By the great Image of whose Voice he sung They found the Mass 't is true but in their Mould They purg'd the drossy Oar to current Gold Mending their Pattern they escap'd the Curse

Think fit as useless Tools to lay you by Besides what title or pretence have you To any thing ye hold as right and due Since they were setled first on us alone And could no other Lords and Masters own Till ye by Rapine Sacrilege and Force Discas'd us of our Rights and made them yours Nor can a Case more Legal e're appear At Court of Conscience or at Chanc'ry Barr Than what ye did by violence obtain Should to their ancient Lords return again But that which you so much insist upon Your boasted Loyalty and Service done From whence ye most erroneously inferr'd The Justice of your Claim to a Reward Is a meer trifle and a weak defence With no validity of Consequence For there 's no reason he should be repaid Who undesignedly a Kindness did When all the while his thoughts were fix'd upon His own advancement and increase alone And all the profit that to me he brings Is by the bye and natural course of things 'T was rancour envy meer revenge and spite That made ye thus against Fanaticks fight And the dear dread of losing all ye had That first engag'd your malice on our side To plead the Royal Cause and to promote The King's Concern and for Succession vote When could ye any other way have kept The Saddle and in ease and safety slept The King might have been banish'd hang'd or drown'd E're Succour or Relief from you have found But matters and affairs as yet are not To such a difficult Conjuncture brought But that an handsome fetch may bring ye off With Honour and Security enough One gentle turn will all the business do Advance your Livings and secure them too Safe ye shall lie from all Fanatick harms Encircled in your Mother-Churches Arms From which ye've stray'd so long and now to whom Ye ought in duty and respect to come The mournfull Levite straight prick'd up his Ears As glad that things were better than his fears And joyfull heard what means the Priest had found That might for his dear Benefice compound Compos'd his Band and wip'd his blubber'd Cheeks Stood up again and thus demurely speaks The Proverb to my case I may apply Winners may justly laugh and losers cry For when I thought my Livelihood was gone It was no wonder that I so took on As 't is none now Smiles should my gladness shew For these good tydings I receive from you Therefore dear Sir let us our Hearts combine And both in league against Dissenters joyn My self I under your tuition place For Management and Method in the case How to proceed The Cloak who all this while Had unprovok'd and unconcern'd sate still And wisely what they 'd both be at he guest Stood up to speak and to compleat the Jest But glowing Anger had so now prevail'd That in the first attempt he stopp'd and fail'd And when he found his Tongue to be confin'd He made his active Hands declare his Mind The one engag'd the Levite on the place And with the Directory smote his Face Confounded with the Stroke he stagger'd round And falling in his wrath tore up the Ground T'other he laid directly o'er the Chest Sent Ecchoes from the hollow Breast of Priest Who stumbling as he went to take his flight Fell prostrate o'er his new made Proselyte On both their bodies mounts the nimble Cloke And this his Epicinium manly spoke Dejected Wretches there together lie Unpitied unbewail'd by every Eye May after-Ages your curst Names deride As we your damn'd Hypocrisies and Pride No mark remain to know what ye have been But the remembrance of your Curse and Sin Which shall down time 's continual Tide descend To propagate your fatal shame and end So may they fall and all they that design Whoe'er in league against the truth combine By an unarm'd defenceless hand like mine Pleas'd with the Conquest of victorious Cloke I laugh'd aloud methought and so awoke An Epitaph upon Felton who was hang'd in Chains for Murdering the Old Duke of Buckingham Written by the late Duke of Buckingham HEre uninterr'd suspends though not to save Surviving Friends th' Expences of a Grave Felton's dead Earth which to the World will be Its own sad Monument his Elogy As large as Fame which whether Bad or Good I say not by himself 't was wrote in Blood For which his Body is intomb'd in Air Arch'd o'er with Heaven set with a thousand fair And glorious Stars a noble Sepulchre Which time it self can't ruinate and where Th' impartial Worm that is not brib'd to spare Princes corrupt in Marble cannot share His Flesh which oft the charitable Skies Imbalm with Tears daining those Obsequies Belong to Men shall last till pitying Fowl Contend to reach his Body to his Soul An Answer to Mr. Waller's Poem on Oliver's Death called the Storm Written by Sir W G n. 'T IS well he 's gone O had he never been Hurried in Storms loud as his crying Sin The Pines and Oaks fell prostrate at his Urn That with his Soul his Body too might burn Winds pluck up Roots and fixed Cedars move Roring for Vengeance to the Heavens above From Theft like his Great Romulus did grow And such a Wind did at his Ruin blow Strange that the lofty Trees themselves should fell Without the Axe so Orpheus went to Hell At whose descent the stoutest Rocks were cleft And the whole Wood its wonted station left In Battle Hercules wore the Lyon's Skin But our fierce Nero wore the Beast within Whose Heart was brutish more than Face or Eyes And in the shape of Man was in Disguise Where-ever Men where-ever Pillage lies Like ravenous Vultures our wing'd Navy flies Under the Tropick we are understood And bring home Rapine through a purple Flood New Circulations found our Blood is hurl'd As round the lesser to the greater World In civil Broils he did us first engage And made Three Kingdoms subject to his Rage One fatal Stroke slew Justice and the Cause Of Truth Religion and our Sacred Laws So fell Achilles by the Trojan Band Though he still fought with Heaven its self in 's hand Nor would Domestick Spoil confine his Mind No Limits to his Fury but Mankind The British Youths in Foreign Courts are sent Towns to destroy but more to Banishment Who since they cannot in this Isle abide Are confin'd Prisoners to the World beside No wonder then if we no Tears allow To him that gave us Wars and Ruin too Tyrants that lov'd him griev'd concern'd to see There must be Punishment for Cruelty Nature her self rejoyced at his Death And on the Waters sung with such a Breath As made the Sea dance higher than before While here glad Waves came dancing to the Shore Clarindon's House-Warming Printed formerly with the Directions to a Painter Writ by an unknown hand WHen Clarindon had discern'd before hand As the Cause can eas'ly foretell the Effect At once three Deluges threatning our Land 'T was the season he thought to turn Architect