13 following Copies done by Mr. Hovenden Walker sometime of Trinity-Colledge in Dublin Psalm 139. Paraphras'd from Verse 7. to Verse 13. p. 207 A Pastoral in imitation of Virgil's 2d Eclogue p. 210 The fourth Elegy of Cornelius Gallus of the Miseries of Old Age. Made English p. 219 To my Mistriss Translated out of Tibullus p. 226 The Agreement p. 228 Song p. 231 The Innocent Discov'ry p. 234 The Petition A Song p. 234 Fate A Song p. 235 My Religion p. 237 The Kiss p. 239 The Wrack A Song p. 241 To Mr. P. Berault upon his French Grammar p. 242 Song p. 245 The same Song Inverted by Mr. VValker p. 246 The Five following Copies done by Mr. C. G. of AEton-Colledge A Paraphrase on part of the 23d Idyll of Theocritus p. 247 Chorus 1. Of Seneca's Agamemnon p. 255 The Penitent p. 259 To Duserastes p. 262 The Vow p. 263 The Six following POEMS by Mr. T. B. of Cambridge An Elegy on King Charles the Second p. 265 A Dithyrambique made just before the King and Queen went to their Coronation p. 269 To their Graces the Duke and Dutchess of Albemarle upon their Voyage for Iamaica p. 280 Ovid. Amor. lib. 2. Eleg. 15. A Ring presented to his Mistriss p. 283 To Afer Martial Epig. 31. lib. 4. Made English p. 285 An Excuse for not Rhiming in the Time of the Rebellion p. 286 MISCELLANY POEMS PART II. Written by several Authors A Paraphrase on an HYMN Sung when the Corps is at the Grave By T. S. Fellow of Maudlin-Colledge Oxon. I. HOW full of Troubles is the Life of Man Vain like a bubble shorter than a span He springs and blossoms as an early Flower Whose silken Leaves the Frosts and Snow devour He like the â—leeting Shadow hastes away Unable to continue in one stay It disappears and can't survive the day II. The Noon-tide of our Life is plac'd in Death We 're not secure of one light puff of Breath To whom O God can we for succour fly But unto thee by whom we live and dye 'T is for our Sins thou dost employ this Sting Thou justly angry art our God and King But takest no delight in punishing III. O Holy Mighty Lord and Saviour Declare thy signal Mercies and thy Pow'r Condemn us not unto the pains of Hell Where Horror reigns and endless Torments dwell From whence no ransom ever can be made Since we our bless'd Redeemer have betray'd And both his Will and Laws have disobey'd IV. Thou know'st the secret Closet of our Hearts Thy divine Presence fills our secret parts Therefore be mercifull unto our Pray'r Most worthy Iudge thy wretched People spare Forsake us not when on our Death-beds thrown Lest through despair we deeply sigh and groan And Hell grow proud of the Dominion Advice to his Friends lamenting the Death of I. F. By the same Hand RIse and rejoyce all ye that Mourn Dry ev'ry Eye that weeps The Body in this hollow Urn Is not quite dead but sleeps See how the Leaves in Autumns falling Dew Forsake the weeping Tree And how the jocund Spring renews With Buds their infancie What though the Root lye under-ground The Boughs to Heav'n aspire Thus Bodies in the Grave are found The Souls are mounted higher Hark! hark I hear the Trumpet 's Voice Cry Come ye Blessed come Methinks I hear our Friend rejoyce That he is Summon'd home Now Dronish Death hath lost her Sting The Grave her Victorie For Christ in Triumph rides as King Of this great Iubilee Arise my Friends and wipe your Eyes Salvation's drawing nigh Let 's live to dye and dye to rise T' enjoy Eternity T. S. EPITAPH on Mrs. E. F. who sickned of the Small Pox and Deceased December the 31st 1686. being the Day before her intended Nuptials THis fair young Virgin for a Nuptial Bed More fit is lodg'd sad Fate among the Dead Storm'd by rough Winds so falls in all her pride The full-blown Rose design'd t' adorn a Bride Truth is this lovely Virgin from her Birth Became a constant strife 'twixt Heav'n and Earth Earth claim'd her pleaded for her either cry'd The Nymph is mine at length they did divide Heav'n took her Soul the Earth her Corps did seize Yet not in Fee she only holds by Lease With this proviso When the Iudge shall call Earth shall give up her share and Heav'n have all An EPITAPH to the Memory and fix't on the Tomb of Sir PALME FAIRBORN Governour of Tangier who in Execution of his Command was Mortally Wounded by a Shot from the Moors that then besieged the Town Octob. 24. 1680. YE Sacred Reliques which this Marble keep Here undisturb'd by Wars in quiet sleep Discharge the Trust which when it was below Fairborn's undaunted Soul did undergo And be the Towns Palladium from the Foe Alive and dead he will these Walls defend Great Actions Great Examples must attend The Candian Siege his early Valour knew Where Turkish Blood did his young hands embrew From thence returning with deserv'd applause Against the Moors his well-flesh'd Sword he draws The same the Courage and the same the Cause His Youth and Age his Life and Death combine As in some great and regular design All of a piece throughout and all Divine Still nearer Heav'n his Vertues shone more bright Like rising Flames expanding in the height The Martyrs Glory crown'd the Souldiers Fight More bravely Brittish Gen'ral never fell Nor Gen'rals Death was e'er reveng'd so well Which his pleas'd Eyes beheld before their close Follow'd by Thousand Victims of his Foes An ELEGY on the Death of N. D. Doctor of Physick By I. C. WHat will my Mourning yet no period find Must sighs sorrow still distract my Mind My Sense grows â—eeble and my Reason's gone Passion and Discontent usurp the Throne With blubber'd Eyes my veiled sight grows dim Ah cruel Death cou'd you â—ind none but him To gratifie your hungry Iaws withall Or if in haste none but a Doctor 's fall Howe'er you might forbore your stroke a while But possibly you thought he might beguile Your craving Appetite of many more Which you expected to strike long before But sure my Mind 's disturb'd my Passions ravâ— To censure Death and quarrel with the Graveâ— Alas he 's bound the blow he cannot give Till his Commission shews we must not live Yet hence we learn and may this inf'rence make That if Physicians Souls their Iourney take Into a distant Climate well may Ours Then with what care ought we to spend those hours Or rather few remaining Sands which are In so much Bounty tender'd to our care The purest Druggs compos'd with greatest Skill Can't preserve Life when Death has pow'r to kill Peasant and Prince are both to him alike And with an equal blow doth either strike All must surrender when his Arm is stretch't With such a weighty force his blow is fetch 't But oh I wander from my Virtuous Friend 'T is true indeed he 's dead but yet no
'm sure my Soul will lose her way II. Oh 't is not dark enough I wish it were Some Rays are still on my Eyes Atmosphere Which give sufficient light I find Still to continue me stark blind For to Eyes that 's dazl'd with too radiant light Darkness proves best restorative o' th' light To my Dear Cousin Mrs. M. T. after the Death of her Husband and Son. DEar Coz. I hope by this time you have dry'd At least set bounds to th'almost boundless tide Of flowing Tears I 'm sure my wish is so Which Love and Int'rest does oblige me to For you can bear no Sufferings alone All yours are mine by participation And doubtless all your Friends in some degree Must bear a share if they can love like me Then if not for your own sake yet for ours And in submission to th' Eternal Powers Not only dry your Eyes but chear your Brow And lend us Ioys and we 'll repay them you Rouse up your Soul and shew your self indu'd With Mothers Prudence Fathers Fortitude In other Vertues you have equall'd them In these strive to out-doe your worthy Stem For here Ambition can't excessive be Neither esteemed pride or vanity For when we to the top of Vertue climb We 're sure in no mistake much less a crime But by this brave attempt you shall subdue Cross Fate which otherwise wou'd conquer you But after all that can be said on this I am not ignorant how hard it is To conquer Passions and our selves subdue Though advis'd by Friends and assisted too By the prevailing Powers of Grace from Heav'n Still Counsel's harder to be took than giv'n Not that I thought your Griefs profuse but knew Much to a Son more to a Husband 's due Only remember that our Lord has taught Thy will be done therefore we must in thought As well as words submit to his intents Who can bring good out of the worst Events Whose Mercy oft protracts the bad Man's doom And takes the good Man from the ill to come TO MY Young Lover INcautious Youth why do'st thou so mis-place Thy fine Encomiums on an o'er-blown Face Which after all the Varnish of thy Quill It s Pristine wrinkles shew apparent still Nor is it in the power of Youth to move An Age-chill'd heart to any strokes of Love. Then chuse some budding Beauty which in time May crown thy Wishes in thy blooming prime For nought can make a more preposterouâ— show Than April Flowers stuck on St. Michael's Bow. To consecrate thy first-born Sighs to me A superannuated Deity Makes that Idolatry and deadly Sin Which otherwise had only Venial been TO MY Young Lover ON HIS VOW I. ALas why mad'st thou such a Vow Which thou wilt never pay And promise that from very now Till everlasting day Thou mean'st to love sigh bleed and dye And languish out thy breath In praise of my Divinity To th' minute of thy Death II. Sweet Youth thou know'st not what it is To be Love's Votary Where thou must for the smallest bliss Kneel beg and sigh and cry Probationer thou should'st be first That thereby thou may'st try Whether thou can'st endure the worst Of Love's austerity III. For Worlds of Beauties always stand To tempt thy willing Eye And Troops of Lusts are at thy hand To vanquish thee or dye And now this Vow exposes thee To th' third of all the worst The Devil of inconstancy That Tempter most accurs'd TO MY Young Lover A SONG TO praise sweet Youth do thou forbear Where there is no desert For alas Encomiums here Are Iewels thrown i' th' dirt For I no more deserve Applause Now Youth and Beauty 's fled Than a Tulip or a Rose When its fair Leaves are shed Howe'er I wish thy Praises may Like Prayers to Heaven born When holy Souls for Sinners pray Their Prayers on them return To my Unkind Friend Little Tom King. I. WEll by experience now I see This World 's made up of flattery Complements and formality Since nought but int'rest now can bind Ev'n old acquaintance to be kind 'T were madness then to hope to find True Friendship in the Modern Crew Of late-contracted Friends Hence then acquaintance all adieu I can't oblige my Friendship to pursue Such dull insipid ends As nought but to a Ceremony tends Since Friendship from old Friends is flown Rather than endure the pratlings The flatteries and the censurings Which a Modish Friendship brings My pensive Dove shall sit and coo alone II. But perhaps it will be said Unlucky Business has this mischief made Business that plausible excuse Of all unkindness to a Friend That Bankrupt that ne'er pays Principle nor Use Of all the Time that e'er we to him lend Yet Bus'ness now 's a Merchant of such Fame That he has got the whole Monopoly Of Time Love Friends and Liberty Of which if there be scarcity Bus'ness is to blame For nought can vended be but in his Name III. Since then the World 's so much to Bus'ness proâ—e 'T is time that idle I was gone Alas why do I stay VVhen that canker bus'ness which I hate VVith Int'rest is confederate Eats our pleasant shady Friends away VVe're left obnoxious to the storms of Fate Nay ev'n then the hottest Gleams Of Prosperities brightest Beams Help but to make us dwindle and decay And though we strive our selves to shade Under the closest Rules of Constancy Yet when the Powers of Fate invade That too alas will shake and fade And make us see That though our best Ambition strives To keep a reg'lar harmony Yet Fate will ring her Changes on our Lives Till discordant Death arrives VVho informs us by his latest Knell Whether we have made up this World's Consort well IV. Hence I 'll not murmur then Though some grow Proud and others really Great Or heap up Riches by deceit Since they must pay it all again To Death who rapaciously devours All for which we drudge in vain And sell our ease for fruitless pain All which we like mistaken fools call ours Whilst in some lazie Solitude may I Enjoy my self alone Free from this VVorld's buzzing frantick feuds And sweets and stings of Fate 's Vicissitudes Have nothing else to do but dye I care not who esteems me as a Drone For out o' th' World so secretly I 'll steal That babbling Fame shall not the theft reveal And when I to my long repose am gone My dearest Brother who is gone before Half way will meet me in the Air or more Where we 'll be happy in Excess In Mansions of Eternal blessedness Yet if there can be Any allay of this felicity It will be this when he shall find That I no other news can bring From his Old Friend my Little King But that he was unkind A Second EPISTLE To my Honoured Friend Mr. E. S. I. OFt has my Muse and I fall'n ouâ— And I as oft have banish'd her my Breast But such alas still was her interest And still to
gaze on thee Here cou'd I take up mine Eternitie As well one may Touch flaming Coals or with a Serpent play And yet receive no harm As look on you unmoved by your Charms For my part I am forc'd to lay down Arms Although I 'm fain To be content with nothing but disdain And since those things are cheap we easily obtain I am content a while to live upon despair Iust as Chamelions do on Air. III. I play and dally on Hells brink Till I perceive my self begin to sink Or scorch my self too near so great a fire And so am forced to retire Anon forgetfull of my former burn I must again I must again return So do's the little Gnat by Night Fly round and round the Candles light Untill its busie daring Wing Too near such heat begins to singe Yet still unmindfull of the smart She must she will repeat her former sport IV. Hence hence Heroick Muse adieu For I must take my leave of you Love that usurps the Rule of my Poetick Vein Forbids Calliope's Heroick strain Charges me nothing to endite Concerning this or t'other fight Nor of the Scythian or the Parthian War to write Unless to beautifie my Poetry Those stories to my Love I fitly wou'd apply And now methinks I feign My self an honest faithfull Scythian And he a perfidious flying Parthian Whose turned Dart Strikes his Pursuer swiftly to the Heart So the more eager Phoebus follow'd on The swifter Daphne did his Presence shun So much the more encreas'd his Passion higher As the chast little Virgin she grew shier I ask not mutual Love in equal weight But only give me leave to love thee free from hate To DUSERASTES O Cruel Proud and Fair Cause of my Love and cause of my Despair When first a little sprouting Beard Those lovely Lips and Cheeks shall guard Not soft as Down but rugged long and hard When lovely Locks that on your shoulders play Shall turn to the cold hoary Grey Or wasting Time shall eat 'em quite away As when too much of working spoils The very heart of fruitfull Soils And makes 'em without moisture hard and dry All Plants and Herbs do wither fall and dye And when that lovely Red and White That in your charming Cheeks do meet That make the Lilly and the Rose Their sweetness and their colour lose Shall turn to Wrinkles wan and pale And all your other Charms shall fail Then as you go to gaze Upon you former Angel's face In your too much frequented Looking-glass Then your own Presence will you strive to shun And thus complain in a forsaken Lover's tone Why was I ever Young Why was not Beauty long Why had I ever Charms or why are they so quickly gone The VOW To the same I. WHy do you vex me with continual fears And force out needless Tears Why do you tell me I shall surely dye Since Courteous Heav'n and I Both in one resolution do comply That whensoever you are fled unkind I will not stay I cannot stay behind If envious Fate must strike the Heart My better part Why shou'd this liveless lump of Clay Delay To mount the Skies to follow thee away Propitious Fate has spun Both threds of Life in one I 've made a Vow yea I have sworn Nor will I fail by Heav'n to perform We 'll travel both together to our long long home II. In spite of Hell to Heav'n we will glide And all the heavy World below deride Attended by Iove's Messengers on either side Not Charon's shabby Barge Shall have so great so glorious a charge Apollo's Chariot shall us both transport With Mercury our Guide Above Moon Stars and Sun we 'll glide Till we arrive to Iove's Eternal Court There in Immortal State Shall I on yours and you on Iove's left hand be set Nay further still our Glories shall extend You shall be worshipp'd as the God of Beauty To you shall Mortals pay all sacred Duty My Name shall signifie a Faithfull Friend Here shall our love no quarrels know our joys no end The Six following COPIES done by Mr. T. B. of Cambridge An ELEGY on King CHARLES the Second who dyed of an Apoplexy NO more he 's gone with Angel's Wings he fled What Mortal Art cou'd keep him from the Dead The Miracles of Art were shewn in vain Such as cou'd give a meaner Life again But Miracles were common in his Reign A Diet in distress no comfort brings Thus are we sure to lose the best of Kings Great Charles or lov'd or fear'd too much by Death Our Bribes cou'd get us but a parting breath Unusual Fate destroy'd our chief design And ev'ry Sister cut the Royal Twine Direfull Solemnities they us'd below And thrice they gave the irrevocable Blow Thrice on the Monarch for each Nation seize And to his Empire suited the Disease So did Geryon take his long farewell And saw two Heads expire before he fell So put Alcydes Vict'ry to a stand And piece-meal fell by an All-conqu'ring hand Say envious Stars did he deserve your spight Say all ye grand Caballers of the Night Did you remember with regret the Day When his new Star drove all your Beams away When the glad Sky did wond'rous smiles dispence Fear'd you to lose your ancient Influence The same good Omen gave our Charles his Birth As usher'd in Salvation to the Earth Under one Planet grisly Death was slain But the same bad him live and slay again O ye just Pow'rs That Death by Faith o'er-come Shou'd lead the Faith's Defender to his Tomb. Britains lament inspir'd by sorrow sing Embalm with Tears and Verse your Gracious King Where-ever Death can come let it be said In mournfull Elegies our Gracious King is Dead A Soul so large so generous a Mind As Heav'n all knowing and as Heav'n all kind Let the sad News be born through ev'ry Sea And the Winds groan whilst they the News convey Our Peacefull Ships will need no Cannon roar And with the Tidings terrifie the Shoar What Grief in Neighb'ring States shall not be known Now the soft link of Amity is gone Love has the Nat'ral World to Peace confin'd But the Political by Charles was joyn'd What Grief shall not the Foreign Regâ—ons shew For they have lost their Ioy and â—onder too Libyans shall slash their Breâ—â—â—s and so â—eclare Their outward Grief to Châ—rlâ—◠〈…〉 there One o'er her Gold corroding Drops shall shed The other Ind. weep Gems for Iames's head No Quarter but shall Sighs and Blessings send And to a thousand Gods our King shall recommend Pardon Great Ghost your sinfull People spare And be our Genius with your Princely care Smiling the Story of your Troubles tell And pity the mean Souls who cou'd Rebell With joy recount the Changes you have known And all the shapes attend the British Crown How faithless as incircling Waves were We How you became the Proteus of our Sea How on the Wing you 'd now deceive the Foe Then vanish't into Air
you But ah alas my Spells are all too weak To keep a silence which you urge to break Though I remember justly where and when I promis'd ne'er to trouble you agen And when I spoke I meant my words for true But those Resolves were cancell'd at review Of your obliging Lines which made me know Silence to be the greater fault o' th' too For where Perfection do's in triumph sit 'T is rude to praise but sinfull to omit I often read your Lines and oft admire How Eloquence and Fancy do conspire With Wit and Iudgment to make up a Quire And grace the Musick of Apollo's Lire But that which makes the Musick truly sweet Virtue and Innocence in Chorus meet So smooth so gentle all your Writings are If I with other Authors them compare Methinks their Modish Wit to me do's shew But as an Engyscope to view yours through Nor do your Writâ—ngs only smoothly glide Whilst your whole life 's like some impetuous tide But both together keep a gentle pace And each other do each other grace There 's very few like you that do possess The Stoicks strictness Poets gentleness I much admire your Worth but more my Fate That worthless I thereof participate Ev'n so the Sun disdains not to dispence On meanest Insects his bright influence But gives them animation by his Rays Which they requite like me with worthless praise Which now I 'm sure 's grown troublesome to you But you must bear that fate which others do For those that needs will taste of Parents joys Must too indure the plague of Cradle-noise On my Mother and my Lady W who both lay sick at the same time under the Hands of Dr. Paman LIke two sweet Youths stripâ—d naked on the Strand Ready to plunge in consternation stand Viewing the dimples of that smiling Face Whose frigid Body they design t' imbrace Till by their Angel's care some friend Snatches them from the danger they intend So did these Pious Souls themselves prepare By putting off the Robes of worldly care Thus fitted as they were in each degree To lanch into a bless'd Eternity They both had shot the Gulph Had not theiâ— Guardian-God good Paman sent Who by his Skill a longer time them lent Ah happy Paman mightily approv'd Both by thy Patients and the Poor belov'd Hence let no Slander light upon the Fame Of thy great Art much less upon thy Name Nor to bad Druggs let Fate thy Worth expose For best Receipts are baffl'd oft by those Nor let no Quack intrude where thou do'st come To crop thy Fame or haste thy Patients doom Base Quackery to Sickness the kind Nurse The Patients ruine and Physicians curse Let no infectious Sickness seize thy Blood But that thou may'st live long to do much good May all the Blessings light on thee that can Attend a Doctor or a Christian Man. Since by thy care thou hast restor'd to us Two in whom Virtue 's most conspicuous Better I 'm sure no Age can ever shew Whose Lives are Precepts and Examples too In Commendation of the Female Sex. Out of SCIPINA AH Beauteous Sex to you we 're bound to give Our thanks for all the Blessings we receive Ev'n that we 're Men the chief of all our boast Were without you but a vast blessing lost In vain would Man his mighty Patent show That Reason makes him Lord of all below If Woman did not moderate his rule He 'd be a Tyrant or a softly fool For e'er Love's documents inform his Breast He 's but a thoughtless kind of Houshold Beast Houses alas there no such thing wou'd be He 'd live beneath the umbrage of a Treâ— Or else usurp some free-born Native's Cave And so inhabit whilst alive a Grave Or o'er the World this Lordly Brute wou'd rove Were he not taught and civiliz'd by Love. 'T is Love and Beauty regulate our Souls No rules so certain as in Venus Schools Your Beauty teacheth whatsoe'er is good Else good from bad had scarce been understood What 's eligible by your smiles we know And by your frowns refuse what is not so Thus the rough draught of Man you have refin'd And polish'd all the Passions of his mind His Cares you lessen and his Ioys augment To both extreams set the just bounds Content In fine 't is you to Life its relish give Or 't were insipid not worth while to live Nay more we 're taught Religion too by you For who can think that such Perfections grew By chance no 't was the divine Pow'rs which thus Chose to exhibit their bright selves to us And for an Antepast of future bliss Sent you their Images from Paradise To my BROTHER whilst he was in France DEar Brother So far as you advance Your knowledge by your Iourney into Franceâ— So far and more I 'm sure I backward go For I can't say As in praesenti now Nor ever shall I am so much concern'd For your dear safety whilst you are return'd Nothing at present wonted pleasure yields The Birds nor Bushes or the gaudy Fields Nor Osier holts nor Flow'ry banks of Glen Nor the soft Meadow-grass seem Plush as when We us'd to walk together kindly here And think each blade of Corn a Gem did bear Instead of this and thy Philosophy Nought but my own false Latin now I see False Verse or Lovers falsest of the three Ev'n thoughts of formor happiness augment My Griefs and are my present punishment As those who from a state of Grandeur fall Find adverse Fate hard to dispence withall Had Devils never Heaven seen Their Hell a smaller Curse had been On the DEATH of my Brother COme Sorrow come embrace my yielding heart For thou' rt alone no Passion else a-part Since of my Dear by Death I am bereft Thou art the faithfull'st Lover I have left And so much int'rest thou hast got in me All thoughts of him prove only Pimps to thee If any joy sâ—em to accost my Soul One thought of him do's presently controle Those fawning Rivals all which steal away Like wand'ring Ghosts at the approach of day But hold fond Grief thou must forbear a while Thy too too kind Caresses which beguile Me of my Reason retire whilst I Repeat the Life the Death the Elogy Of him my Soul ador'd with so much pride As makes me slight all worldly things beside Of him who did by his fraternal Love More noble Passions in my Bosome move Than e'er cou'd be infus'd by Cupid's Darts Or any feign'd adulterate sordid Arts Of him whose blooming Youth pleas'd each Man's Eye And tempted Women to Idolatry Of him whose growing Art made Death afraid He shou'd be vanquish'd and his Throne betray'dâ— 'Cause with success and yet no less applause He rescu'd many from the Tyrant's jaws At last the Tyrant raging full with spight Assaults his Enemy with all his might And for his Second brings a Feavour too In this Attacque what could our Champion doe He bravely fights but forc'd at last to
yield Nature his Second having lost the Field Many bring in their Aid but 't is too late Grim Death had gotten a Decree from Fate Which retrograded all that gâ—eat supply Whose pow'rfull Arms makes Death and Feavers flyâ— But why great Fate would'st thou so cruel be Of Ioy at once to rob the World and Me What joys so e'er we to our selves propose Fate still will frustrate or at least oppose 'T is her Ambition sure to let us know She has the Regiment of all below If it be so command some mournfull Muse T' inspire my Soul and then my Heart infuse With Essence of some Dirges that I may His Matchless worth to all the World display Nor Fate nor Muse will help us now I find All flee the Wretched ev'n as Ships the Wind. My Dear had'st thou to me bequeath'd thy Wit Thy Character had long ago been writ I' th' most sublime and lasting Verse That e'er Adorn'd the greatest Hero's Herse But were thy great Encomium writ by me ' Twou'd be the ready way to lessen thee Therefore I must desist from that design And the attempt to better hands resign Only repeat what mournfully was said As in thy cold and narrow Bed was 't laid By the Apollo's of thy noble Art Who seem'd to grudge me in their grief a part Alas he 's gone who shou'd have liv'd to be An honour to our Great Society Alas he 's gone who shou'd supply the place Of some of us when time has left no space Betwixt us and the Grave but now we see How they 're deceiv'd who hold no vacancy And all the Gallant AEsculapian Crow Whos 's great Example from Spectators drew Such floods of tears that some mistook their aim And thought a real show'r from Heav'n came But I as if the Fountain of this Source With Handkerchiefs strove to retard the course But all in vain my real loss was great As many thought whose Words I here repeat I cannot blame you for lamenting so Since better friend no friend did e'er forego A publick Sorrow for this loss is due The Nation surely Madam mourns with you On the same A Pindarique ODE I. WHat have I now to hope or fear Since Death has taken all that 's dear In him who was my joy my love Who rais'd my Passion far above What e're â—he blind God's shafts cou'd doe Or Nymph or Swain e'er knew For Friendship do's our Souls more gently move To a Love more lasting noble and more true Than dwells in all the Amorous Crew For Friendship 's pure holy just Without canker soil or rust Of Pride Covâ—tousness or Lust It to Ambition makes no room Nor can it be by Int'reâ—t overcome But always keeps its proper state I' th' midst of most injurious Fate Ev'n Death it self to 'ts Bonds can give no date II. But O Tyrant thou Canst at one blow Destroy Fruition's happiness Wherein we Lovers place our bliss For without it Love 's but an ample theam Of Imaginary joys Those gay-deluding toys By which our most fix'd thoughts are crosâ—'d Or as one that wakes out of a drâ—am Finds all the pleasing Objects lost Or as Sodom's beauteous fruit Whose out-side makes a fair pretence To gratifie another sence But touch it and you 'll find how destitute It 's of all good Much more unfit for food So may our pleasures make a specious shew To th' vulgar view But his absence whom I now deplore Makes all my Ioys but Ashes at the core III. Ah Death thou wast severe Thus from me to tear The Hopes of all my future Happiness The Co-partner of my present Bliss The Alleviator of my Care The partaker of what ever Fate did share To me in my Life's progress If bad he wou'd bear half at least Till the Storm was over-blown or ceas'd If good he wou'd augment it to excess And no lesâ— joy for me than for himself express IV. Of my Youth he was the Guide All its extravagance with curious eyâ— He wou'd see and rectify And in me he infus'd such humble pride As taught me this World's pleasures to deride He made me know I was above All that I saw or cou'd enjoy In this giddy toy Of the whole World's happiness And yet again this Paradox wou'd prove That to my self shou'd seem less Than ought I saw i' th' mighty Universe V. Nor was his kindness only fix'd on me For freely he Did on all friends his Love and Wit dispence As th' Heavens do their influence And likewise did no diminution know When his Wit he did bestow Amongst his wond'ring Auditors Who cou'd not chuse where Wit was so proâ—ound And Vertue did so much abound But to become his faithfull Plauditors All which he did receive With less concern than they could give Which proves that Pride his Heart did never touch For this he always understood That best Ambition still was such As less desir'd to be wise than good VI. But thus his Vertues to enumerate Serves but my Sorrows to accumulate As cyphers in Accompt Till the Sum ad infinitum mount A Sum which none but Death can calculate Which he most dext'rously can doe By subtracting the one Figure â—rom â—he row For one's but one if taken from the train Of Pleasures Riches Honours Wit Nor can a King his Power maintain If all these cyphers should recedeâ—rom â—rom it What matter then what our attendance be Whether happiness or miserie For when the mighty Leveller do's come It seems we must be all but one One in equality VII How soon he comes I need not care Who may to me a better fortune share For of all happiness I here despair Since he is gone who Animation gave To all that 's pleasant to my thoughts or brave Ev'n my Studies he inspir'd With lively vigour which with him retir'd And nought but their Bodies Books remain For Sorrow do's their Souls inchain So fast that they can ne'er return again Part of the XIX PSALM I. THE Heav'ns declare the Glory of God And th' Firmament doth shew To all Mankind dispers'd abroad What Works his mighty hands can doe The silent Nights and speechless Days To each other chant their lays Which make a tunefull Serenade To th' mighty Universe And find a Language to reherse The praise of him who them and us has made II. And in them he hath fix'd a place For the Glorious Sun Which comes forth with Bridegroom's strength and grace The Earth his happy Bride t' imbrace And as a Gyant do's rejoyce to run His course where he is sure to be Crown'd with glorious Victory For nothing in this World's circumference Can be hid from his bright influence Coming from in a Dark Night I. FArewell O Eyes which I ne'er saw before And 't is my int'rest ne'er to see ye more Though th' deprivation of your light I 'm sure will make it doubly Night Yet rather I 'll lose my way i' th' dark than stay For here I
see how busie weâ— Are in Anaâ—omie thou d'st laugh to see our Ignorance Who some things miss some things hit by chance For we at best do but in twilight go Whilst thou see'st all by th' most Transcendent light Compar'd to which the Sun 's bright Rays are night Yet so Coelestial are thine Eyes That Light can neither dazzle nor surprize For all things there So perfect are And freely they their qualities dispence Without the mixture of Terrestrial dross Without hazard harm or loss O joys Eternal satiating Sence And yet the Sence the smallest part in gross On the DEATH of my Brother A SONNET I. ASk me not why the Rose doth fade Lillies look pale and Flowers dye Question not why the Myrtle shade Her wonted shadows doth deny II. Seek not to know from whence begun The sadness of the Nightingale Nor why the Heliotrope and Sun Their constant Amity do fail III. The Turâ—les grief look not upon Nor reason why the Palm-trees mourn When Widow-like they 're left alone Nor Phoenix why her self doth burn IV. For since He 's dead which Life did give To all these things which here I name They fade change wither cease to live Pine and consume into a Flame MISCELLANEA OR THE Second Part OF POETICAL RECREATIONS Compos'd by several Authors Non ubi plura nitent in carmine paucis Offendi maculis quas aut incuria fudit Aut humana parum cavit Natura Hor. LONDON Printed for Benjamin Crayle at the Peacock and Bible at the West-end of St. Pauls 1688. A TABLE OF THE POEMS Contained in the Second Part OF POETICAL RECREATIONS A Paraphrase on an Hymn Sung when the Corps is at the Grave By T. S. Fellow of Maudlinâ— Colledge Oxon. Page 1 Advice to his Friends lamenting the Death of I. F. By the same Hand p. 3 â—pitaph on Mrs. E. F. who sickned of the Small Pox and deceased Decemb. 31. 1686. being the Day before her intended Nuptials p. 5 An Epitaph to the Memory of Sir Palme Fairborn Governour of Tangier c. p. 6 An Elegy on the Death of N. D. Doctor of Physick p. 7 Upon Heaven p. 1â— On the Martyrdom of King Charles the First p. 1â— Upon one's Birth-day p. 1â— Upon Christ's Nativity p. 1â— On the same p. 1â— More on the same Subject p. 21. On New-years-day p. 23 Eyes and Tears p. 2â— To Mrs. Iane Barker on her Romance of Scipinâ— By I. N. Fellow of St. Iohn's Colledge Cambridge p. 2â— To Mrs. Iane Barker on her Resolution of Versifyinâ— no more By the same Author p. 3â— To Mrs. Iane Barker on her Incomparable Romancâ— of Scipina By a Gent. of St. Iohn's Col. Camb. p. 3â— On the Posthume and Precious Poems of Sir Mathew Hale By a Gentleman of Lincolns-Inn p. 3â— To Mr. Tho. Wright on his Compendious Histories entituled God's Revenge against Murther anâ— Adultery with The Triumphs of Friendshiâ— and Chastity By I. Whitehall p. 3â— On the same By another Hand p. 4â— On christmas-Christmas-day p. 4â— On Death p. 4â— On the Divine Spirit p. 4â— To the Memory of the Illustrious Prince George Duâ—â— of Buckingham p. 4â— Upon the Death of Oliver Cromwell in Answer 〈◊〉 Mr. W 's Verses By Mr. Godolphin p. 5â— On the last Dutch War By Mr. B. Willie somâ—tiâ—â— Mr. of the Free-School of Newark upon Trent p. 55 The last Sayings of a Mouse lately starved in a Cupboard p. 59 To the Secretary of the Muses A New-years-gift p. 62. An Epitaph on the Secretary to the Muses p. 65 A Satyr in Answer to the Satyr against Man By T. L. of Wadham-Colledge Oxon. p. 67 A Congratulatory Poem to his most Sacred Majesty Iames the second c. on his late Victories o'er the Rebels in the West p. 83 On the same p. 85 A Panegyrick on his Present Majesty Iames the Second c. p. 86 A Congratulatory Poem to his Majesty Iames the Second on his Succession to the Crown p. 91 On the Presentation of a Bird to his Mistriss p. 94. Advice to silly Maids By an Unknown Author p. 95 Farther Advice to Young Ladies p. 98 Advice to a Town-Miss By Mr. Worsdell p. 100 The Preâ—erence of a Single Life before Marriage Written at the Request of a Lady p. 102 Upon Clarinda's putting on her Vizard-Mask p. 103 The Middle Sister ascribed to Clarinda p. 105 An Elougy on Mrs. M. â— By a Gent. of the Inner-Temple p. 106 A Love-Poem By an Oxford Gentleman p. 109 Another Love-Poem By the same Author p. 112 The Lovâ—r's Will p. 114 A Love Letter By W. S. M. D. p. 116 A Speech to his Mistriss in a Garden p. 118 An Address to a Gentlewoman walking in a Garden By an Oxford Gentleman p. 119 Upon a Gentlewomans Refusal of a Letter from one she was engaged to By Sir C. S. p. 122 In Praise of a Deformed but Virtuous Lady or a Satyr on Beauty p. 125 A Love-Letter By W. S. Gent. p. 129 In Praise of Letters p. 131 The Idea By Charles Cotton Esq p. 133 Love's Sympathy p. 134 A Pindarique Ode on Mr. Cowley p. 136 An Ode By Mr. R. D. of Cambridge p. 137 An Ode of Anacreon Paraphras'd Beauties Force p. 138 A Pindarique Ode By Mr. I. Whitehall p. 140 From Ovid's Amorum lib. 2. El. 4. and Lucretius lib. 4. That he loves Women of all sorts and sizes p. 142 The Parallel p. 145 Song p. 147 The Young Lover a Song By Mr. Wright p. 149 The Prodigal's Resolution Song p. 150 The Doubtfull Lover Resolv'd A Song p. 151 Song The Cavalier's Catch p. 153 On sight of a Ladies Face in the Water Song p. 154 A Song p. 155 On the Serpentine Combustion by Squibs on my Lord Mayor's Day An Heroick Poem p. 156 To his much â—steemed Friend Mr. I. N. on his Reading the â—irst Line of Pindar 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. by Mr. Whitehall p. 159 A Dialogue between Iack and Dick concerning the Prohibition of French Wines p. 161 The 12 following Copies done by the Publisher To Clarinda on her Incomparable Painting and Wax-work p. 172 A Young Man to an Old Woman courting him p. 174 To Clarinda a Song p. 177 On his Secret Passion for Cosmelia p. 179 To Clarinda on his Deserting her and loving Cosmelia p. 185 To Cosmelia on her Departure into the Country p. 187 On a Rose sâ—icking on a Ladies Breast p. 188 On the most Charming Galecia's Picture p. 190 The Young Lover's Adâ—ocate being an Answer to a Copy of Verses Written by Galaecia to her Young Lover on his Vow p. 192 To my Ingenious Friend Mrs. Iane Barker on my Publishing her Romance of Scipina p. 194 A Batchellor's Life in pursuit of Mrs. Barkers Verses in Praise of a Single Life p. 196 The Exchange of Hearts A Song p. 199. Upon a Flock of Gold-finches p. 200 An Answer of the Poet to one complaining of their Negligence in not Writing the Duke of Buckingham's Elegy p. 204 These
end Can e'er obscure or hide his Honour'd Name For o'er the World the Golden Wings of Fame Shall spread his praise and to his Friends proclaim That whilst alive His Soul was always drest VVith Robes of Innocence the peacefull Guest Of a good Conscience ever fill'd his Breast His smiling Countenance abroad wou'd send His hearty Wishes to his real Friend His Words were few but of important weight Mix'd with no stains of flatt'ry or deceit Too much in 's way his Library has stood Himself he minded not for others good 'T is strange to think he shou'd himself neglect VVhose study 't was to cure what e'er defect Nature might fall into yet this he did In short his Worth though smother'd can't be hid To sound his Praise may th' utmost Skill ingage Since that he dy'd the Wonder of his Age. VVell may his friends then and acquaintance weep VVhen such a brave Physician 's fall'n asleep UPON HEAVEN OH thou Theanthropos who did'st contain In one joint Body here both God and Man And thou who'rt Alpha and Omega still To blazon forth thy Courts assist my Quill Inlarge my Fancy and transport my Mind Above the common pitch of Humane kind Oh represent and spread before my Muse One glimpse of Heav'ns great light which when she views May make her soar in Raptures and make known The glorious Seat of Heav'ns triumphant Throne But first before my Tongue begins to speak Such unknown joys which no Man yet cou'd make A true description of though Poets have Feign'd an Elyziums bliss beyond the Grave I crave thy pardon for my bold attempt In showing Sense what here for Faith was meant Like the bright Amathyst and Onyx Stone This glorious Fabrick is erected on The entrance Gates of this great Court excell The most Magnificent and Orient Pearl Brighter than burnish't Gold her Walls appear Of spangled Stars her Floor and Pavements are Her high-built Pillars from the dazling ground Look as beset all o'er with Diamond Like purest Sardonyx her Roof do's show Whilst as green Emeralds are spread below The blushing Ruby and the glitt'ring Saphir Mix't with bright Chrysolites and Stones of Iasper Make but a poor Resemblance of this light Whose gilt and radiant Beams appear too bright For ought of humane Race to view or see Unless transform'd to Immortalitie Thousands of Angels guard the outward Gate From th' utmost spleen and rage of Devil's hate Who keep this Palace from or Siege or Storm For all those Martyrs who have bravely born With an undaunted patience th' utmost Ill That Men or Devils could bethink or will But when once past from th' outward Gates you 'll spy Millions of Angels bless'd Eternally Also Illustrious Cherubs Seraphins Clapping their gilded and rejoycing Wings Numbers unnumbred of the Saints in light Singing their Hymns to God both day and night There nought but simple Love and Rest abide All worldly Grief and Cares are laid aside Freed from all cross Events and slavish Fear In Ioy and Peace they live for ever there ON THE MARTYRDOM OF King CHARLES the First THE crimson Theam on which I now do treat Is not unregistred or out of date No it 's wrote deep in ev'ry Loyal Breast And with loud Accents will be still exprest Though Time shou'd take more wings and faster hast His sudden flight from hence yet soon as past Such Tragick cruelty this mournfull Theam In bloody Characters wou'd still remain I wish my Pen had ne'er had cause to write This one day's Prodigie more black than Night The very Fiends themselves are now out-done For Men the shape of Devils have put on What but the spawn of Hell cou'd thus design Or hatch such treachery to undermine The best of Kings on Earth nay pull him down From his own Regal and Establish'd Throne What was there none but Charles the First the Great And most indulgent worthiest Potentate To vent their rage upon Oh barb'rous Crew A King beheaded by 's own Subjects too Ecclesiastical and Civil Writ Unto the World did ne'er as yet transmit So Tragical a Scene or mournfull News Save one alone Iesus the King of th' Iews Who was like Charles our Sovereign betray'd Whom the same shew of Iustice did degrade But now the Iews from these do differ hence Their Errours did from Ignorance commence Because they thought not Christ their lawful Prince But these curs'd Regicides did fully know Charles was their King and had proclaim'd him soâ— The Antient Fathers always own'd their Prince God's Representative in Truth 's defence And since that Kings to God Vicegerents are Their Subjects ought true Loyalty to bear Who are protected by their Princely care But as if Nature had these Miscreants left And of Humanity they were bereft ' Stead of Allegiance they preach up Intrusion Sound a Battalia and make all confusion And then delude and cheat the Common-weal With a pretence that all was done through Zealâ— Whilst an unnat'ral War they do bâ—gin And persevere in their Rebellious Sin Till they 've intrench'd upon their Soveraign's Rigâ—â— By Usurpation and by lawless Might Then next they seize his Person with pretence That they 're his chiefest Bulwark of defence At last his Head and Crown lop off at once Without a Reason or a just Response At which black deed shou'd th' Elements dissolveâ— And th' Universal World it self involve In present ruin shou'd th' infernal Lake Flash out in Flames Or shou'd the Waters break Through their strong Banks and so a Deluge make Shou'd Sun and Moon at once Eclipsed be And to compleat a full Calamity Stars fall from Heav'n and dash in pieces those Who did their Sov'raign and his Laws oppose This we might judge is to their Merit due Who such perfidious treachery pursue Forgive my passion if I do transgress Beyond the limits of true Holiness I wish that all effectually repent This bloody Sin whereby they may prevent Those heavy Iudgments which predict th' Event And may those Persons who were Actors in This cursed Cause against the Father bring Their true Obedience to his Son now King That so they may to him and all his Race And to themselves bring a continu'd Peace And after crown'd with honour and success At last enjoy Eternal happiness UPON ONE'S Birth-Day LOok upwards O my Soul and thou may'st see Once more thy Birth-days Anniversary Another year of Time is passed by And now methinks hath slid so silently As if unmeasur'd yet and thus will seem Most of thy Days when spent in thy esteem Man's Life is fitly liken'd unto Fire Which unsupply'd with fuel do's expire And thus no sooner 's run our â—leeting Sand But the Glass breaks by Death's destroying hand Since then my Soul that Time so fast doth slide How much art thou obliged to provide That which may beautifie thy nobler part And also cleanse and purifie thy Heart From all pollution which within doth reign And in that Empire such Dominion gain Make firm
your Sexes Excellence That Sex which doth in you Triumphant come To praise with Wit of Greece the Arms of Rome Secur'd by solid Sence you soar sublime Above the little flutt'ring flights of Rhime Antient Philosophy embrac'd by few Smiles and looks young to be caress'd by you Out-rivals Love and drives him from your Breast And is alone of your whole self possest No Word of yours the nicest can reprove To show a more than modest sense of Love But something still like inspiration shines Through the bright Virgin Candor of your lines How well are all your Hero's toyls and fights His long laborious Days and restless Nights Re-paid with Glory by your charming Pen How gladly wou'd he act them o'er again The Great Cornelian Race with wonder view The Asian Conquerour thus adorn'd by you And th' younger Scipio willingly wou'd quit His Titles for your more Triumphant Wit. On then brave Maid secure of Fame advance 'Gainst the Scaroons and Scudderies of France Shew them your claim let nought your Merit awe Your Title 's good spight of the Salique-Law Safe in the Triumphs of your Wit remain Our English Laws admit a Woman's Reign EXILIUS ON THE POSTHUME and Precious POEMS OF Sir MATTHEW HALE Late Lord Chief Iustice of His Majesty's Court of King's-Bench By a Gentleman of Lincolns-Inn THE Rose and other fragrant Flow'rs smell best When they are pluck'd and worn in Hand or Breast So this fair Flow'r of Vertue this rare Bud Of Wit smells now as fresh as when he stood And by his Poetry doth let us know He on the Banks of Helicon did grow The Beauties of his Soul apparent shine Both in his Works and Poetry Divine In him all Vertues met th' Exemplary Of Wisdom Learning and true Piety Farewell Fam'd Iudge Minion of Thespian Dameâ— Apollo's Darling born with Enthian Flames Which in thy numbers wave and shine so clear As sparks refracted in rich Iems appear Such Flames as may inspire and Atoms cast To make new Poets not like him in hast To the Admir'd AUTHOR Mr. THOMAS WRIGHT ON HIS Incomparable HISTORIES ENTITULED God's Revenge against Murther and Adultery with the Triumphs of Friendship and Chastity Newly published in a small Vol. 80. By Mr. I. Whitehall SInce the too bold aspiring Angel fell By his Ambition and his Pride to Hell And since Rebellious Man lost Paradise The World is fill'd with various sorts of Vice Murther and Lust twin Tyrants long have reign'd And a vast Empire through the World maintain'd The Sword of Iustice could not stop their rage They 've boldly tyranniz'd in ev'ry Age Nor cou'd Divines their furious heat asswage Yet doubtless Friend th' Examples you have giv'n May give them prospect of revenging Heav'n Your Pen with Eloquence divine inspir'd Will cool the Souls with Lust and Murther fir'd Tame all the Passions regulate the Will And stop that Rage which guiltless blood wou'd spill Such charming Oratory it doth give As teacheth us by others Death to live And from a Life of Chastity and Love A great Advantage to our selves improve To tell thy Fame I want great Spencer's Skill The gentle charming pow'r of Cowley's Quill All Men of Sence will praise thy matchless Prose For sharpest Briar bears the sweetest Rose To his Ingenious FRIEND Mr. THOMAS WRIGHT ON HIS Compendious HISTORIES OF Murther Adultery Friendship and Chastity Some of the former being Epitomiz'd from Mr. Reynold's Murthers By another Hand MAny 't is true knew of this Golden Mine But all their Skill cou'd not the Ore Refine Th' inimitable REYNOLD's very Name Startled at first our greatest Men of Fame Each one by fear from that great task was hurl'd And tho'lanch'd out their Sails were quickly furl'd Wanting thy courage they cou'd never soar To this high pitch which none e'er reach'd beâ—orâ— The Vulgar paths thou shun'st soaring sublime Till with quaint Eloquence thou fraught'st each line None yet so sweetly charm'd with Sence the times So gently and so well rebuk'd such crimes As you my Friend have done for you present Vice so deform'd the Wicked will repent And by Examples of the chast and kind Fix bright Embellishments upon the Mind Such as may make us to improve and be Like patterns of Heroick Piety Thy Wit and Skill may former Artists blame And Reynold's Murthers now we must not name As sable Darkness which attends the Night To the Days Sun-beams is its opposite So Vice from Vertue Wrong from Right 's the same Then how canst thou write wrong when WRIGHT's thy Name ON Christmas-day O God! who art most Excellent and Wise I see the Morning Beams break through the Skies And with great admiration view the Light Which dissipates Nights darkness from my sight But with a greater wonder I look on Those bright Illuminations which thy Son Hath brought to light by 's Incarnation Look and admire I may but can't express Such heights and depths of Love in Prose or Verse 'T is beyond th' art of Rhet'rick to display What Chrisâ—ians solemnize this Fâ—stal day Two sacred Words are an Epiâ—ome Of what 's effected in this Mystery Redemption and Salvation heav'nly Letters Which freed fall'n Man from th' Bondage of his Fetters Lust and Ambition Avarice and Fraud Was then his Master and his Passions Lord Till Christ his great Redeemer broke the Chain And placed him in Paradise again O Love most infinite O Love divine This Mystery of Love was truly thine For neither Men nor Angels could atone Th' Almighty's Wrath but God and Man in one Wherefore Divinity submits to be Lodg'd in a Vessel of Humanity How ioyfully â—he heav'nly Host above Proclaim to Man glad tydings of thy Love And shall Mankind so much ungrateful be Or rather sink into stupidity As not with equal Ioy this Message hear And all due Rev'rence to their Saviour bear And finally Let 's end these Festal days With sweet Doxologies and Songs of Praise UPON DEATH NAked I came from out my Mother's Womb And naked must return unto my Tomb Disrob'd of all Injoyments here below Or what my Fancy had esteemed so Laid down in silence and by all forgot Left in an Earthly Sepulchre to rot And turn to noisome and corrupted Clay My Manly Shape and Figure worn away Thus when our little breath and life 's once gone We make a Feast for Worms to feed upon And though we shou'd the most Endearments have Of Wife and Children too yet we must leave Them and their Fortunes unto Providence When pale-fac'd Death shall summon us from hence Why do we stand amaz'd and seem to fear When e'er the news of a Friend's Death we hear And not much rather to applaud the Tongue That brought intelligence he liv'd so long For Life's so mutable each little blast May the whole Fabrick unto ruin hast Life is a Bubble which now you see here And in a moments time do's disappear Full as inconstant as the Wind alas 'T is far more brittle than a Venice-Glass