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A34930 Steps to the temple sacred poems, with other delights of the muses / by Richard Crashaw ... Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649. 1646 (1646) Wing C6836; ESTC R13298 53,140 154

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through all the sphaeares Of Musicks heaven and seat it there on high In th' Empyraeum of pure Harmony At length after so long so loud a strife Of all the strings still breathing the best life Of blest variety attending on His fingers fairest revolution In many a sweet rise many as sweet a fall A full-mouth Diapason swallowes all This done hee lists what shee would say to this And shee although her Breath's late exercise Had dealt too roughly with her tender throate Yet summons all her sweet powers for a Noate Alas in vaine for while sweet soule shee tryes To measure all those wild diversities Of chatt'ring stringes by the small size of one Poore simple voyce rais'd in a Naturall Tone Shee failes and failing grieves and grieving dyes Shee dyes and leaves her life the Victous prise Falling upon his Lute ô fit to have That liv'd so sweetly dead so sweet a Grave Principi recèns natae omen maternae indolis CResce ô dulcibus imputanda Divis O cresce propera puella a Princeps In matris propera a venire partes Et cùm par breve fulminum minorum Illin● Carolus Iucobus indè In patris faciles subire famam Ducent fata furoribus decoris Cùm terror sacer Anglicíque magnum Murmur nominis increpabit omnem Latè Bosperon Ottomanicásque Non picto quatiet tremore Lunas Te tunc altera nec timenda paci Poscent praelia Tu potens pudici Vibratrix ocuci pios in hostes Laté dulcia fata dissipabis O cùm flostenet ille qui recenti Pressus sidere jam sub or a ludit Olim fortior omne cuspidatos Evolvet latus aureum per ignes Quíque imbellis adhuc adultus olim Puris expatiabitur genarum Campis imperiosior Cupido O quàm certa superbiore pennâ Ibunt spicula melleaeque mor●es Exultantibus hinc indè turmis Quoquò jusseris impigrè volabunt O quot corda calentium deorum De te vulnera delicata discent O quot pectora Principum magistris Fient molle negotium sagittis Nam quae non poteris per arma ferri Cui matris sinus atque utrumque sidus Magnorum patet officina Amorum Hinc sumas licet ô puella Princeps Quantacunque opus est tibi pharetnâ Centum sume Cupidines ab uno Matris lumine Gratiásque ceutum Et centum Veneres adhuc manebunt Centum mille Cupidines manebunt Ter centum Venerésque Gratiaeque Puro fonte superstites per aevum Out of Virgil In the praise of the Spring ALL Trees all leavy Groves confesse the Spring Their gentlest friend then then the lands begin To swell with forward pride and seed desire To generation Heavens Almighty Sire Melts on the Bosome of his Love and powres Himselfe into her lap in fruitfull showers And by a soft insinuation mixt With earths la●ge Masse doth cherish and assist Her weake conceptions No loane shade but rings With chatting Birds delicious murmurings Then Venus mild instinct at set times yeilds The Herds to kindly meetings then the fields Quick with warme Zephires lively breath lay forth Their pregnant Bosomes in a fragrant Birth Each body 's plump and jucy all things full Of supple moisture no coy twig but will Trust his beloved bosome to the Sun Growne lusty now No Vine so weake and young That feares the foule-mouth'd Auster or those stormes That the Southwest-wind hurries in his Armes But hasts her forward Blossomes and layes out Freely layes out her leaves Nor doe I doubt But when the world first out of Chaos sprang So smil'd the Dayes and so the tenor ran Of their felicity A spring was there An everlasting spring the jolly yeare Led round in his great circle No winds Breath As then did smell of Winter or of Death When Lifes sweet Light first shone on Beasts and when From their hard Mother Earth sprang hardy men When Beasts tooke up their lodging in the Wood Starres in their higher Chambers never cou'd The tender growth of things endure the sence Of such a change but that the Heav'ns Indulgence Kindly supplies sick Nature and doth mold A sweetly temper'd meane nor hot nor cold With a Picture sent to a Friend I Paint so ill my peece had need to bee Painted againe by some good Poesie I write so ill my slender Line is scarce So much as th'Picture of a well-lim'd verse Yet may the love I send be true though I Send nor true Picture nor true Poesie Both which away I should not need to feare My Love or Feign'd or painted should appeare In praise of Lessius his rule of health GOe now with some dareing drugg Baite thy disease and while they tugg Thou to maintaine their cruell strife Spend the deare treasure of thy life Goe take phisicke doat upon Some bigg-named composition The oraculous doctors mistick bills Certain hard words made into pills And what at length shalt get by these Onely a costlyer disease Goe poore man thinke what shall bee Remedie against thy remedie That which makes us have no need Of Phisick that 's Phisick indeed Harke hether Reader wouldst thou see Nature her owne Physitian bee Wouldst see a man all his owne wealth His owne Physick his owne health A man whose sober soule can tell How to weare her garments well Her garments that upon her sit As garments should doe close and fit A well cloathed soule that 's not opprest Nor choakt with what shee should bee drest A soule shearhed in a christall shrine Through which all her bright features shine As when a peece of wanton lawne A thinne aiereall vaile is drawne O're beauties face seeming to hide More sweetly showes the blush'ng bride A soule whose intelectuall beames No mistes doe maske no lazy steames A happy soule that all the way To heaven hath a summers day Would'st thou see a man whose well warmed blood Bathes him in a genuine flood A man whose tuned humours bee A set of rarest harmony Wouldst see blith lookes fresh cheeks beguile Age wouldst see December smile Wouldst see a nest of Roses grow In a bed of reverend snow Warme thoughts free spirits flattering Winters selfe into a spring In summe wouldst see a man that can Live to bee old and still a man The beginning of Helidorus THe smiling Morne had newly wak't the Day And tipt the Mountaines in a tender ray When on a hill whose high Imperious brow Lookes downe and sees the humble Nile below Licke his proud feet and hast into the seas Through the great mouth that 's nam'd from Hercules A band of men rough as the Armes thy wore Look't round first to the sea then to the shore The shore that shewed them what the sea deny'd Hope of a prey There to the maine land ty'd A ship they saw no men shee had yet prest Appear'd with other lading for her brest Deep in the groaning waters wallowed Vp to the third Ring o're the shore was spread Death's purple triumph on the
Prophets Tombe and dost bequeath The life thou took'st from him unto his Death Vaine man the stones that on his Tombe doe lye Keepe but the score of them that made him dye Vpon the Infant Martyrs TO see both blended in one flood The Mothers Milke the Childrens blood Makes me doubt if Heaven will gather Roses hence or Lillies rather Joh. 16. Verily I say unto you yee shall weep and lament WElcome my Grife my Ioy how deare's To me my Legacy of Teares I 'le weepe and weepe and will therefore Weepe 'cause I can weepe no more● Thou thou Deare Lord even thou alone Giv'st joy even when thou givest none Joh. 15. Vpon our Lords last comfortable discourse with his Disciples ALL Hybla's honey all that sweetnesse can Flowes in thy Song ô faire ô dying Swan Yet is the joy I take in 't small or none It is too sweet to be a long-liv'd one Luke 16. Dives asking a drop A Drop one drop how sweetly one faire drop Would tremble on my pearle-tipt fingers top My wealth is gone ô goe it where it will Spare this one Iewell I 'le be Dives still Marke 12. Give to Caesar And to God ALL we have is God's and yet Caesar challenges a debt Nor hath God a thinner share What ever Caesar's payments are All is God's and yet 't is true All wee have is Caesar's too All is Caesar's and what ods So long as Caesar's selfe is Gods But now they have seen and hated SEene and yet hated thee they did not see They saw Thee not that saw and hated thee No no they saw the not ô Life ô Love Who saw ought in thee that their hate could move Vpon the Thornes taken downe from our Lords head bloody KNow'st thou this Souldier 't is a much chang'd plant which yet Thy selfe did'st set 'T is chang'd indeed did Autumn e're such beauties bring To shame his Spring O! who so hard an husbandman could ever find A soyle so kind Is not the soile a kind one thinke ye that returnes Roses for Thornes Luc. 7. She began to wash his feet with teares and wipe them with the haires of her head HEer eyes flood lickes his feets faire sta●ne Her haires flame lickes up that againe This flame thus quench't hath brighter beames This flood thus stained fairer streames On St. Peter cutting of Malchus his eare WEll Peter dost thou wield thy active sword Well for thy selfe I meane not for thy Lord. To strike at eares is to take heed there bee No witnesse Peter of thy perjury Joh. 3. But men loved darknesse rather then Light THe worlds light shines shine as it will The world will love its Darknesse still I doubt though when the World 's in Hell It will not love its Darknesse halfe so well Act. 21. I am ready not onely to be bound but to dye COme death come bands nor do you shrink my eares At those hard words mans cowardise calls feares Save those of feare no other bands feare I Nor other death then this the feare to dye On St. Peter casting away his Nets at our Saviours call THou hast the art on 't Peter and canst tell To cast thy Nets on all occasions well When Christ calls and thy Nets would have thee st●● To cast them well's to cast them quite away Our Lord in his Circumcision to his Father TO thee these first fruits of my growing death For what else is my life ●o I bequeath Tast this and as thou lik'st this lesser flood Expect a Sea my heart shall make it good Thy wrath that wades heere now e're long shall swim The flood-gate shall be set wide ope for him Then let him drinke and drinke and doe his worst To drowne the wantonnesse of his wild thirst No'ws but the Nonage of my paines my feares Are yet both in their hopes not come to yeares The day of my darke woes is yet but morne My teares but tender and my death new-borne Yet may these unfledg'd griefes give fate some guesse These Cradle-torments have their towardnesse These purple buds of blooming death may bee Erst the full stature of a fatall tree And till my riper woes to age are come This knife may be the speares Praeludium On the wounds of our crucified Lord. O These wakefull wounds of thine Are they Mouthes or are they eyes Be they Mouthes or be they eyne Each bleeding part some one supplies Lo a mouth whose full-bloom'd lips At two deare a rate are roses Lo a blood-shot eye that weepes And many a cruell teare discloses O thou that on this foot hast laid Many a kisse and many a Teare Now thou shal't have all repaid Whatsoe're thy charges were This foot hath got a Mouth and lippes To pay the sweet summe of thy kisses To pay thy Teares an Eye that weeps In stead of Teares Such Gems as this is The difference onely this appeares Nor can the change offend The debt is paid in Ruby-Teares Which thou in Pearles did'st lend On our crucified Lord Naked and bloody Th' have left thee naked Lord O that they had This Garment too I would they had deny'd Thee w●th thy selfe they have too richly clad Opening the purple wardrobe of thy side O never could bee found Garments too good For thee to weare but these of thine owne blood Easter day RIse Heire of fresh Eternity From thy V●rgin Tombe Rise mighty man of wonders and thy world with thee Thy Tombe the universall East Natures new wombe Thy Tombe faire Immortalities perfumed Nest Of all the Gloryes Make Noone gay This is the Morne This rocke buds forth the fountaine of the streames of Day In joyes white Annals live this houre When life was borne No cloud scoule on his radiant lids no tempest lowre Life by this light 's Nativity All creatures have Death onely by this Dayes just Doome is forc't to Dye Nor is Death forc't for may hee ly Thron'd in thy Grave Death will on this condition be content to Dy. On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Lord. IEsu no more it is full tide From thy hands and from thy feet From thy head and from thy side All thy Purple Rivers meet Thy restlesse feet they cannot goe For us and our eternall good As they are wont what though They swim alas in their owne flood Thy hand to give thou canst not lift Yet will thy hand still giving bee It gives but ô itself 's the Guift It drops though bound though bound 't is free But ô thy side thy deepe dig'd side That hath a double Nilus going Nor ever was the Pharian t●de Halfe so fruitfull halfe so flowing What need thy faire head beare a part In Teares as if thine eyes had none What need they helpe to drowne thine heart That strives in Torrents of its owne Water'd by the showres they bring The thornes that thy blest browes encloses A cruell and a costly spring Conceive proud hopes of proving Roses Not a haire but payes his River To this Red
Mother Warmes in the one cooles in the other Shee sings thy Teares asleepe and dips Her Kisses in thy weeping Eye Shee spreads the red leaves of thy Lips That in their Buds yet blushing lye Shee 'gainst those Mother-Diamonds tryes The points of her young Eagles Eyes Welcome though not to those gay flyes Guilded i' th' Beames of Earthly Kings Slippery soules in smiling eyes But to poore Shepheards simple things That use no varnish no oyl'd Arts But lift clean hands full of cleare hearts Yet when young Aprils husband showres Shall blesse the fruitfull Maia's Bed Wee 'l bring the first-borne of her flowers To kisse thy feet and crowne thy head To thee Dread Lambe whose Love must keepe The Shepheards while they feed their sheepe To thee meeke Majesty soft King Of simple Graces and sweet Loves Each of us his Lamb will bring Each his payre of silver Doves At last in fire of thy faire Eyes Wee 'l burne our owne best sacrifice Vpon the Death of a Gentleman FAithlesse and fond Mortality Who will ever credit thee Fond and faithlesse thing that thus In our best hopes beguilest us What a reckoning hast thou made Of the hopes in him we laid For Life by volumes lengthened A Line or two to speake him dead For the Laurell in his verse The sullen Cypresse o're his Herse For a silver-crowned Head A durty pillow in Death's Bed For so deare so deep a trust Sad requitall thus much dust Now though the blow that snatcht him hence Stopt the Mouth of Eloquence Though shee be dumbe e're since his Death Not us'd to speake but in his Breath Yet if at least shee not denyes The sad language of our eyes Wee are contented for then this Language none more fluent is Nothing speakes our Griefe so well As to speake Nothing Come then tell Thy mind in Teares who e're Thou be That ow'st a Name to misery Eyes are vocall Teares have Tongues And there be words not made with lungs Sententious showers ô let them fall Their cadence is Rhetoricall Here 's a Theame will drinke th' expence Of all thy watry Eloquence Weepe then onely be exprest Thus much Hee 's Dead and weepe the rest Vpon the Death of Mr. Herrys A Plant of noble stemme forward and faire As ever whisper'd to the Morning Aire Thriv'd in these haphy Grounds the Earth's just pride Whose rising Glories made such haste to hide His head in Cloudes as if in him alone Impatient Nature had taught motion To start from Time and cheerfully to fly Before and seize upon Maturity Thus grew this gratious plant in whose sweet shade The Sunne himselfe oft wisht to sit and made The Morning Muses perch like Birds and sing Among his Branches yea and vow'd to bring His owne delicious Phoenix from the blest Arabia there to build her Virgin nest To hatch her selfe in 'mongst his leaves the Day Fresh from the Rosie East rejoyc't to play To them shee gave the first and fairest Beame That waited on her Birth she gave to them The purest Pearles that wept her Evening Death The balmy Zephirus got so sweet a Breath By often kissing them and now begun Glad Time to ripen expectation The timourous Maiden-Blossomes on each Bough Peept forth from their first blushes so that now A Thousand ruddy hopes smil'd in each Bud And flatter'd every greedy eye that stood Fixt in Delight as if already there Those rare fruits dangled whence the Golden Yeare His crowne expected when ô Fate ● Time That seldome lett'st a blushing youthfull Prime Hide his hot Beames in shade of silver Age So rare is hoary vertue the dire rage Of a mad storme these bloomy joyes all tore Ravisht the Maiden Blossoms and downe bore The trunke Yet in this Ground his pretious Root Still lives which when weake Time shall be pour'd out Into Eternity and circular joyes Dance in an endlesse round againe shall rise The faire son of an ever-youthfull Spring To be a shade for Angels while they sing Meane while who e're thou art that ●assest here O doe thou water it with one kind Teare Vpon the Death of the most desired Mr. Herrys DEath what dost ô hold thy Blow What thou dost thou dost not know Death thou must not here be cruell This is Natures choycest Iewell This is hee in whose rare frame Nature labour'd for a Name And meant to leave his pretious feature The patterne of a perfect Creature Ioy of Goodnesse Love of Art Vertue weares him next her heart Him the Muses love to follow Him they call their vice Apollo Apollo golden though thou bee Th' art not fairer then is hee Nor more lovely lift'st thy head Blushing from thine Easterne Bed The Gloryes of thy Youth ne're knew Brighter hopes then he can shew Why then should it e're be seene That his should fade while thine is Greene And wilt Thou ô cruell boast Put poore Nature to such cost O 't will undoe our common Mother To be at charge of such another What thinke we to no other end Gracious Heavens do use to send Earth her best perfection But to vanish and be gone Therefore onely give to day To morrow to be snatcht away I 've seen indeed the hopefull bud Of a ruddy Rose that stood Blushing to behold the Ray Of the new-saluted Day His tender toppe not fully spread The sweet dash of a shower now shead Invited him no more to hide Within himselfe the purple pride Of his forward flower when ●o While he sweetly 'gan to show His swelling Gloryes Auster spide him Cruell Auster thither hy'd him And with the rush of one rude blast Sham'd not spitefully to wast All his leaves so fresh so sweet And lay them trembling at his feet I 've seene the Mornings lovely Ray Hover o're the new-borne Day With rosie wings so richly Bright As if he scorn'd to thinke of Night When a ruddy storme whose scoule Made Heavens radiant face looke foule Call'd for an untimely Night To blot the newly blossom'd Light But were the Roses blush so rare Were the Mornings smile so faire As is he nor cloud nor wind But would be courteous would be kind Spare him Death ô spare him then Spare the sweetest among men Let not pitty with her Teares Keepe such distance from thine Eares But ô thou wilt not canst not spare Haste hath never time to heare Therefore if hee needs must go And the Fates will have it so Softly may he be possest Of his monumentall rest Safe thou darke home of the dead Safe ô hide his loved head For Pitties sake ô hide him quite From his Mother Natures sight Lest for Griefe his losse may move All her Births abortive prove Another IF ever Pitty were acquainted With sterne Death if e're he fainted Or forgot the cruell vigour Of an Adamantine rigour Here ô here we should have knowne it Here or no where hee 'd have showne it For hee whose pretious memory Bathes in Teares of every eye Hee to whom our
sorrow brings All the streames of all her springs Was so rich in Grace and Nature In all the gifts that blesse a Creature The fresh hopes of his lovely Youth Flourisht in so faire a grouth So sweet the Temple was that shrin'd The Sacred sweetnesse of his mind That could the Fates know to relent Could they know what mercy meant Or had ever learnt to beare The soft tincture of a Teare Teares would now have flow'd so deepe As might have taught Griefe how to weepe Now all their steely operation Would quite have lost the cruell fashion Sicknesse would have gladly been Sick himselfe to have sav'd him And his Feaver wish'd to prove Burning onely in his Love Him when wrath it selfe had seene Wrath its selfe had lost his spleene Grim Destruction here amaz'd In stead of striking would have gaz'd Even the Iron-pointed pen That notes the Tragicke Doomes of men Wet with teares still'd from the eyes Of the flinty Destinyes Would have learn't a softer style And have been asham'd to spoyle His lives sweet stoty by the hast Of a cruell stop ill plac't In the darke volume of our fate Whence each leafe of Life hath date Where in sad particulars The totall summe of Man appeares And the short clause of mortall Breath Bound in the period of Death In all the Booke if any where Such a tearme as this spare here Could have been found 't would have been read Writ in white Letters o're his head Or close unto his name annext The faire glosse of a fairer Text. In briefe if any one were free Hee was that one and onely he But he alas even hee is dead And our hopes faire harvest spread In the dust Pitty now spend All the teares that griefe can lend Sad mortality may hide In his ashes all her pride With this inscription o're his head All hope of never dying here lyes dead His Epitaph PAssenger who e're thou art Stay a while and let thy Heart Take acquaintance of this stone Before thou passest further on This stone will tell thee that beneath Is entomb'd the Crime of Death The ripe endowments of whose mind Left his Yeares so much behind That numbring of his vertuos praise Death lost the reckoning of his Dayes And believing what they told Imagin'd him exceeding old In him perfection did set forth The strength of her united worth Him his wisdomes pregnant growth Made so reverend even in Youth That in the Center of his Brest Sweet as is the Phaenix nest Every reconciled Grace Had their Generall meeting place In him Goodnesse joy'd to see Learning learne Humility The splendor of his Birth and Blood Was but the Glosse of his owne Good The flourish of his sober Youth Was the Pride of Naked Truth In composure of his face Liv'd a faire but manly Grace His Mouth was Rhetoricks best mold His Tongue the Touchstone of her Gold What word so e're his Breath kept warme Was no word now but a charme For all persuasive Graces thence Suck't their sweetest Influence His vertue that within had root Could not chuse but shine without And th'heart-bred lustre of his worth At each corner peeping forth Pointed him out in all his wayes Circled round in his owne Rayes That to his sweetnesse all mens eyes Were vow'd Loves flaming Sacrifice Him while fresh and fragrant Time Cherisht in his Golden Prime E're Hebe's hand had overlaid His smooth cheekes with a downy shade The rush of Death's unruly wave Swept him off into his Grave Enough now if thou canst passe on For now alas not in this stone Passenger who e're thou art Is he entomb'd but in thy Heart An Epitaph Vpon Husband and Wife which died and were buried together TO these Whom Death again did wed This Grave 's the second Marriage-Bed For though the hand of Fate could force 'Twixt Soule and body a Divorce It could not sever Man and Wife Because they both liv'd but one Life Peace good Reader doe not weepe Peace the Lovers are asleepe They sweet Turtles folded lye In the last knot that love could tye Let them sleepe let them sleepe on Till this stormy night be gone And th' eternall morrow dawne Then the Curtaines will bee drawne And they waken with that Light Whose day shall never sleepe in Night An Epitaph Vpon Doctor Brooke A Brooke whose streame so great so good Was lov'd was honour'd as a flood Whose Bankes the Muses dwelt upon More then their owne Helicon Here at length hath gladly found A quiet passage under ground Meane while his loved bankes now dry The Muses with their teares supply Vpon Mr. Staninough's Death DEare reliques of a dislodg'd soule whose lacke Makes many a mourning Paper put on blacke O stay a while e're thou draw in thy Head And wind thy selfe up close in thy cold Bed Stay but a little while untill I call A summons worthy of thy Funerall Come then youth Beauty and Blood all ye soft powers Whose silken flatteryes swell a few fond hou●es Into a false Eternity come man Hyperbolized nothing know thy span Take thine owne measure here downe downe and bow Before thy selfe in thy Idaea thou Huge emptinesse contract thy bulke and shrinke All thy wild Circle to a point ô sinke Lower and lower yet till thy small size Call Heaven to looke on thee with narrow eyes Lesser and lesser yet till thou begin To show a face fit to confesse thy kin Thy neighbour-hood to nothing here put on Thy selfe in this unfeign'd reflection Here gallant Ladyes this unpartiall glasse Through all your painting showes you your own face These Death-scal'd Lipps are they dare give the lye To the proud hopes of poor Mortality These curtain'd windowes this selfe-prison'd eye Out-stares the Liddes of large-look't Tyranny This posture is the brave one this that lyes Thus low stands up me thinkes thus and defyes The world All daring Dust and Ashes onely you Of all interpreters read nature true Vpon the Duke of Yorke his Birth A Panegyricke BRittaine the mighty Oceans lovely Bride Now strech thy self faire Ile and grow spread wide Thy bosome and make roome Thou art opprest With thine owne Gloryes and art strangely blest Beyond thy selfe for lo the Gods the Gods Come fast upon thee and those glorious ods Swell thy full gloryes to a pitch so high As sits above thy best capacitye Are they not ods and glorious that to thee Those mighty Genii throng which well might bee Each one an Ages labour that thy dayes Are guilded with the Vnion of those Rayes Whose each divided Beame would be a Sun To glad the Spheare of any Nation O if for these thou mean'st to find a seat Th' ast need ô Brittaine to be truly Great And so thou art their presence makes thee so They are thy Greatnesse Gods where e're they go Bring their Heaven with them their great footsteps place An everlasting smile upon the face Of the glad Earth they tread on while with thee Those Beames that ampliate
send Whose drowsinesse hath wrong'd the Muses friend What hope Aurora to propitiate thee Vnlesse the Muse sing my Apology O in that morning of my shame when I Lay folded up in sleepes captivity How at the sight did'st Thou draw back thine Eyes Into thy modest veyle how did'st thou rise Twice di'd in thine owne blushes and did'st run To draw the Curtaines and awake the Sun Who rowzing his illustrious tresses came And seeing the loath'd object hid for shame His head in thy faire Bosome and still hides Mee from his Patronage I pray he chides And pointing to dull Morpheus bids me take My owne Apollo try if I can make His Lethe be my Helicon and see If Morpheus have a Muse to wait on mee Hence 't is my humble fancy finds no wings No nimble raptures starts to Heaven and brings Enthusiasticke flames such as can give Marrow to my plumpe Genius make it live Drest in the glorious madnesse of a Muse Whose feet can walke the milky way and chuse Her starry Throne whose holy heats can warme The Grave and hold up an exalted arme To lift me from my lazy Vrne to climbe Vpon the stooped shoulders of old Time And trace Eternity But all is dead All these delicious hopes are buried In the deepe wrinckles of his angry brow Where mercy cannot find them but ô thou Bright Lady of the Morne pitty doth lye So warme in thy soft Brest it cannot dye Have mercy then and when he next shall rise O meet the angry God invade his Eyes And stroake his radiant Cheekes one timely kisse Will kill his anger and rev●ve my blisse So to the treasure of thy pearly deaw Thrice will I pay three Teares to show how true My griefe is so my wakefull lay shall knocke At th' Orientall Gates and duly mocke The early Larkes shrill Orizons to be An Anthem at the Dayes Nativitie And the same rosie-fingerd hand of thine That shuts Nights dying eyes shall open mine But thou faint God of sleepe forget that I Was ever knowne to be thy votery No more my pillow shall thine Altar be Nor will I offer any more to thee My selfe a melting sacrifice I 'me borne Againe a f●esh Child of the Buxome Morne Heire of the Suns first Beames why threat'st thou so● Why dost thou shake thy leaden Scepter goe Bestow thy Poppy upon wakefull woe Sicknesse and sorrow whose pale lidds ne're know Thy downy finger dwell upon their Eyes Shut in their Teares Shut out their miseryes Loves Horoscope LOve brave vertues younger Brother Erst hath made my Heart a Mother Shee consults the conscious Spheares To calculate her young sons yeares Shee askes if sad or saving powers Gave Omen to his infant howers Shee asks each starre that then stood by If poore Love shall live or dy Ah my Heart is that the way Are these the Beames that rule thy Day Thou know'st a Face in whose each looke Beauty layes ope loves Fortune-booke On whose faire revolutions wait The obsequious motions of Loves fate Ah my Hear● her eyes and shee Have taught thee new Astrology How e're Loves native houres were set What ever starry Synod met 'T is in the mercy of her eye If poore Love shall live or dye If those sharpe Rayes putting on Points of Death bid Love be gone Though the Heavens in counsell sate To crowne an uncontrouled Fa●e Though their best Aspects twin'd upon The kindest Constellation Cast amorous glances on h●s Birth And whisper'd the confederate Earth To pave his pathes with all the good That warmes the Bed of youth and blood Love ha's no plea against her eye Beauty frownes and Love must dye But if her milder influence move And guild the hopes of humble Love Though heavens inauspicious eye Lay blacke on loves Nativitye Though every Diamond in Ioves crowne Fixt his forehead to a frowne Her Eye a strong appeale can give Beauty smiles and love shall live O if Love shall live ô where But in her Eye or in her Eare In her Brest or in her Breath Shall I hide poore Love from Death For in the life ought else can give Love shall dye although he live Or if Love shall dye ô where But in her Eye or in her Eare In her Breath or in her Breast Shall I Build his funerall Nest While Love shall thus entombed lye Love shall live although he dye Sospetto d' Herode Libro Primo Argomento Casting the times with their strong signes Death's Master his owne death divines Strugling for helpe his best hope is Hero'ds suspition may heale his Therefore he ends a fiend to wake The sleeping Tyrant's fond mistake Who feares in vaine that he whose Birth Meanes Heav'n should meddle with his Earth 1 MVse now the servant of soft Loves no more Hate is thy Theame and Herod whose unblest Hand ô what dares not jealous Greatnesse tore A thousand sweet Babes from their Mothers Brest The Bloomes of Martyrdome O be a Dore Of language to my infant Lips yee best Of Confessours whose Throates answering his swords Gave forth your Blood for breath spoke soules for words 2 Great Anthony Spains well-beseeming pride Thou mighty branch of Emperours and Kings The Beauties of whose dawne what eye may bide Which With the Sun himselfe weigh's equall wings Mappe of Heroick worth whom farre and wide To the beleeving world Fame boldly sings Deigne thou to weare this humble Wreath that bowes To be the sacred Honour of thy Browes 3. Nor needs my Muse a blush or these bright Flowers Other then what their owne blest beauties bring They were the smiling sons of those sweet Bowers That drinke the deaw of Life whose deathlesse spring Nor Sirian flame nor Borean frost deflowers From whence Heav'n-labouring Bees with busie wing Suck hidden sweets which well digested proves Immortall Hony for the Hive of Loves 4. Thou whose strong hand with so transcendent worth Holds high the reine of faire Parthenope That neither Rome nor Athens can bring forth A Name in noble deedes Rivall to thee Thy Fames full noise makes proud the patient Earth Farre more then matter for my Muse and mee The Tyrrhene Seas and shores sound all the same And in their murmures keepe thy mighty Name 5. Below the Botome of the great Abysse There where one Center reconciles all things The worlds profound Heart pants There placed is Mischifes old Master close about him clings A curl'd knot of embracing Snakes that kisse His correspondent cheekes these loathsome strings Hold the perverse Prince in eternall Ties Fast bound since first he forfeited the skies 6. The Iudge of Torments and the King of Teares Hee fills a burnisht Throne of quenchlesse fire And for his old faire Roabes of Light hee weares A gloomy Mantle of darke flames the Tire That crownes his hated head on high appeares Where seav'n tall Hornes his Empires pride aspire And to make up Hells Majesty each Horne Seav'n crested Hydra's horribly adorne 7. His Eyes the sullen dens of Death and
Night Star●le the dull Ayre with a dismall red Such his fell glances as the fatall Light Of staring Comets that looke Kingdomes dead From his black nostrills and blew lips in spight Of Hells owne stinke a worser stench is spread His breath Hells lightning is and each deepe grone Disdaines to thinke that Heav'n Thunders alone 8. His flaming Eyes dire exhalation Vnto a dreadfull pile gives fiery Breath Whose unconsum'd consumption preys upon The never-dying Life of a long Death In this sad House of slow Destruction His shop of flames hee fryes himselfe beneath A masse of woes his Teeth for Torment gnash While his steele sides found with his Tayles strong lash 9. Three Rigourous Virgins waiting still behind Assist the Throne of th' Iron-Sceptred King With whips of Thornes and knotty vipers twin'd They rouse him when his ranke Thoughts need a sting Their lockes are beds of uncomb'd snakes that wind About their shady browes in wanton Rings Thus reignes the wrathfull King and while he reignes His Scepter and himselfe both he disdaines 10 Disdainefull wretch how hath one bold sinne cost Thee all the Beauties of thy once bright Eyes How hath one blacke Eclipse cancell'd and crost The glories that did guild thee in thy Rise Proud Morning of a perverse Day how lost Art thou unto thy selfe thou too selfe-wise Narcissus foolish Phaeton who for all Thy high-aym'd hopes gaind'st but a flaming fall 11 From Death's sad shades to the Life-breathing Ayre This mortall Enemy to mankinds good Lifts his malignant Eyes wasted with care To be come beautifull in humane blood Where Iordan melts his Chrystall to make faire The fields of Palestine with so pure a flood There does he fixe his Eyes and there detect New matter to make good his great suspect 12 He calls to mind th' old quarrell and what sparke Set the contending Sons of Heav'n on fire Oft in his deepe thought he revolves the darke Sibills divining leaves hee does enquire Into th' old Prophesies trembling to marke How many present prodigies conspire To crowne their past predictions both hee layes Together in his pondrous mind both weighes 13. Heavens Golden-winged Herald late hee saw To a poore Galilean virgin sent How low the Bright Youth bow'd and with what awe Immortall flowers to her faire hand present Hee saw th' old Hebrewes wombe neglect the Law Of Age and Barennesse and her Babe prevent His Birth by his Devotion who began Betimes to be a Saint before a Man 14. Hee saw rich Nectar thawes release the rigour Of th' Icy North from frost-bount Atlas hands His Adamantine fetters fall greene vigour Gladding the Scythian Rocks and Libian sands Hee saw a vernall smile sweetly disfigure Winters sad face and through the flowry lands Of faire Engaddi hony-sweating Fountaines With Manna Milk and Balm new broach the Mountaines 15. Hee saw how in that blest Day-bearing Night The Heav'n-rebuked shades made hast away How bright a Dawne of Angels with new Light Amaz'd the midnight world and made a Day Of which the Morning knew not Mad with spight Hee markt how the poore Shepheards ran to pay Their simple Tribute to the Babe whose Birth Was the great businesse both of Heav'n and Earth 16. Hee saw a threefold Sun with rich encrease Make proud the Ruby portalls of the East Hee saw the Temple sacred to sweet Peace Adore her Princes Birth flat on her Brest Hee saw the falling Idols all confesse A comming Deity Hee saw the Nest Of pois'nous and unnaturall loves Earth-nurst Toucht with the worlds true Antidote to burst 17. He saw Heav'n blossome with a new-borne light On wh●ch as on a glorious stranger gaz'd The Golden eyes of Night whose Beame made bright The way to Beth'lem and as boldly blaz'd Nor askt leave of the Sun by Day as Night By whom as Heav'ns illustrious Hand-maid rais'd Three Kings or what is more three Wise men went Westward to find the worlds true Orient 18. Strucke with these great concurrences of things Symptomes so deadly unto Death and him Faine would hee have forgot what fatall strings Eternally bind each rebellious limbe Hee shooke himselfe and spread his spatious wings Which like two Bosom'd sailes embrace the dimme Aire with a dismall shade but all in vaine Of sturdy Adamant is his strong chaine 19. While thus Heav'ns highest counsails by the low Foot steps of their Effects hee trac'd too well Hee tost his troubled eyes Embers that glow Now with new Rage and wax too hot for Hell With his foule clawes hee fenc'd his furrowed Brow And gave a gastly shreeke whose horrid yell Ran trembling through the hollow vaults of N●ght The while his twisted Tayle hee gnaw'd for sp●ght 20. Yet on the other side faine would he start Above his feares and thinke it cannot be Hee studies Scripture strives to sound the heart And feele the pulse of every Prophecy Hee knowes but knowes not how or by what Art The Heav'n expecting Ages hope to see A mighty Babe whose pure unspotted Birth From a chast Virgin wombe should blesse the Earth 21. But these vast Mysteries his senses smother And Reason for what 's Faith to him devoure How she that is a maid should prove a Mother Yet keepe inviolate her virgin flower How Gods eternall Sonne should be mans Brother Poseth his proudest Intellectuall power How a pure Spirit should incarnate bee And life it selfe weare Deaths fraile Livery 22. That the Great Angell-blinding light should shrinke His blaze to shine in a poore Shepheards eye That the unmeasur'd God so low should sinke As Pris'ner in a few poore Rags to lye That from his Mothers Brest hee milke should drinke Who feeds with Nectar Heav'ns faire family That a vile Manger his low Bed should prove Who in a Throne of stars Thunders above 23. That hee whom the Sun serves should fainely peepe Through clouds of Infant flesh that hee the old Eternall Word should bee a Child and weepe That hee who made the fire should feare the cold That Heav'ns high Majesty h●s Court should keepe In a clay-cottage by each blast control'd That Glories selfe should serve our Griefs feares And free Eternity submit to yeares 24. And further that the Lawes eternall Giver Should bleed in his owne lawes obedience And to the circumcising Knife deliver Himselfe the forfeit of his slaves offence That the unblemisht Lambe blessed for ever Should take the marke of sin and paine of sence These are the knotty Riddles whose darke doubt Intangles his lost Thoughts past getting out 25. While new Thoughts boyl'd in his enraged Brest His gloomy Bosomes darkest Character Was in his shady forehead seen exprest The forehead 's shade in Gr●efes expression there Is what in signe of joy among the b●est The faces lightning or a smile is here Those stings of care that his strong Heart opp●est A desperate Oh mee drew from his deepe Brest 26. Oh mee thus bellow'd hee oh mee ● what great Portents before mine eyes their Powers
Bee posed with the maturest feares Man trembles at wee straight shall find Love knowes no nonage nor the mind T is love not yeares or Limbes that can Make the martyr or the man Love toucht her heart and loe it beats High and burnes with such brave heats Such thirst to dye as dare drinke up A thousand coled deaths in one cup. Good reason for shee breaths all fire Her weake breast heaves with strong desire Of what shee may with fruitlesse wishes Seeke for amongst her mothers kisses Since t is not to bee had at home Shee l travell to a martyrdome No home for her confesses shee But where shee may A martyr bee Shee l to the Moores and trade with them For this unvalued Diadem Shee offers them her dearest breath With Christs name ●nt in change for death Shee l bargain with them and will give Them God and teach them how to live In him or if they this denye For him shee l teach them how to dye So shall shee leave amongst them sowne Her Lords blood or at lest her owne Farewell then all the world adeiu Teresa is no more for you Farewell all pleasures sports and joyes Never till now esteemed toyes Farewell what ever deare may bee Mothers armes or fathers knee Farewell house and farwell home Shee s for the Moores and Martyrdome Sweet not so fast Loe thy faire spouse Whom thou seek'st with so swift vowes Calls thee back and bi●s thee como T' embrace a milder Martyrdome Blest powers forbid thy tender life Should bleed upon a barbarous knife Or some base hand have power to race Thy Breasts chast cabinet and uncase A soule kept there so sweet O no Wise heaven will never have it so Thou art Loves victim and must dye A death more misticall and high Into Loves hand thou shalt let fall A still surviving funerall His is the dart must make the death Whose stroake shall taste thy hallowed breath A dart thrice dipt in that rich Hame Which writes thy spowses radiant name Vpon the roofe of heaven where ay It shines and with a soveraigne ray Beats bright upon the burning faces Of soules which in that names sweet graces Find everlasting smiles So rare So spirituall pure and faire Must be the immortall instrument Vpon whose choice point shall be spent A life so loved and that there bee Fit executioners for thee The fairest and the first borne Loves of fire Blest Seraphims shall leave their quire And turne Loves souldiers upon thee To exercise their Archerie O how oft shalt thou complaine Of a sweet and subtile paine Of intollerable joyes Of a death in which who dyes Loves his death and dyes againe And would for ever so be slaine And lives and dyes and knowes not why To live but that he still may dy How kindly will thy gentle heart Kisse the sweetly killing dart And close in his embraces keep Those delicious wounds that weep Balsome to heale themselves with thus When these thy deaths so numerous Shall all at last dye into one And melt thy soules sweet mansion Like a soft lumpe of Incense hasted By too hot a fire and wasted Into perfuming cloudes So fast Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last In a disolving sigh and then O what aske not the tongues of men Angells cannot tell suffice Thy selfe that feel thine owne full joyes And hold them fast for ever there So soone as thou shalt first appeare The moone of maiden starres thy white Mistresse attended by such bright Soules as thy shining selfe shall come And in her first rankes make thee roome Where mongst her snowy family Immortall wellcomes wait on thee O what delight when shee shall stand And teach thy Lipps heaven w●th her hand On which thou now maist to thy wishes Heap up thy consecrated kisses What joy shall seize thy soule when shee Bending her blessed eyes on thee Those second smiles of heaven shall dart Her mild rayes through thy melting heart Ange●ls thy old friends there shall greet thee Glad at their owne home now to meet thee All thy good workes which went before And waited for thee at the doore Shall owne thee there and all in one Weave a Constellation Of Crownes with which the King thy spouse Shall build up thy triumphant browes All thy old woes shall now smile on thee And thy pains set bright upon thee All thy sorrows here shall shine And thy sufferings bee devine Teares shall take comfort and turne Gems And wrongs repent to diadems Even thy deaths shall live and new Drosse the soule which late they slew Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarres As keep account of the Lambes warres Those rare workes where thou shalt leave witt Loves noble history with witt Taught thee by none but him while here They feed our soules shall cloath thine there Each heavenly word by whose hid flame Our hard hearts shall strike fire the same Shall flourish on thy browes and bee Both fire to us and flame to thee Whose light shall live bright in thy face By glory in our hearts by grace Thou shalt looke round about and see Thousand of crownd soules throng to bee Themselves thy crowne sonnes of thy nowes The Virgin births with which thy spowse Made fruitfull thy faire soule Goe now And with them all about thee bow To him put on heel say put on My Rosy Love that thy rich Zone Sparkeling with the sacred Hames Of thousand soules whose happy names Heaven keeps upon thy score thy bright Life brought them first to kisse the light That kindled them to starres and so Thou with the Lambe thy Lord shall goe And where so e're hee sitts his white Steps walke with him those wayes of Light Which who in death would live to see Must learne in life to dye like thee An Apologie for the precedent Hymne THus have I back againe to thy bright name Faire sea of holy fires transfused the flame I tooke from reading thee 't is to thy wrong I know that in my weak and worthlesse song Thou here art set to shine where thy full day Scarce dawnes ô pardon if I dare to say Thine own deare books are guilty for from thence I learnt to know that Love is eloquence That heavenly maxim gave me heart to try If what to other tongues is tun'd so high Thy praise might not speak English too forbid by all thy mysteries that there lye hid Forbid it mighty Love let no fond hate Of names and words so farre prejudicate Soules are not Spaniards too one frendly flood Of Baptisme blends them all into one blood Christs Faith makes but one body of all soules And loves that bodies soule no Law controules Our free trafick for heaven we may maintaine Peace sure with piety though it dwell in Spaine What soule soever in any Language can Speake heaven like hers is my soules country-man O 't is not Spanish but 't is heaven she speakes 'T is heaven that lies in ambush there and
home with an holy strength Snathc't her self hence to Heaven fill'd a bright place Mongst those immortall fires and on the face Of her great maker fixt her flaming eye There still to read true pure divinity And now that grave aspect hath deign'd to shrinke Into this lesse appearance If you thinke T is but a dead face art doth here bequeath Looke on the following leaves and see him breath Ad Reginam ET verò jam tempus erat tibi maxima Mater Dulcibus his oculis accelerare diem Tempus erat ne qua tibi basia blanda vacarent Sarcina ne collo sit minùs apta tuo Scilicet ille tuus timor spes ille suorum Quo primumes felix pignore facta parens Ille ferox iras jam nunc meditatur enses Iam patris magis est jam magis ille suus Indolis O stimulos Vix dum illi transiit infans Iamque sibi impatiens arripit ille virum Improbus ille suis adeò negat ire sub annis Iam nondum puer est major est puero Si quis in aulaeis pictas animatus in iras Stat leo quem docta cuspide lusit acus Hostis io est neque enim ille alium dignabitur hostem Nempe decet tantus non minor ira manus Tunc hasta gravis adversum furit hasta bacillum est Mox falsum vero vulnere pectus hiat Stat leo ceu stupeat tali bene fixus ab hoste Ceu quid in his oculis vel timeat vel amet Tam torvum tam dulce micane nescire ●atetur Márs ne sub his oculis esset an esset Amor. Quippe illîc Mars est sed qui bene possit amari Est Amor certe sed metuendus Amor Talis Amor talis Mars est ibi cernere qualis Seu puer hic esset sive vir ille deus Hic tibi jam scitus succedit in oscula fratris Res ecce in lusus non operosa tuos Basia jam veniant tua quatacunque caterva Iam quocunque tuus murmure ludat amor En Tibi materies tenera tractabilis hic est Hic ad blanditias est tibi cera satis Salve infans tot basiolis molle argumentum Maternis labiis dulce negotiolum O salve Nam te nato puer aur●e natus Et Carolo Mariae Tertius est oculus Out of Martiall FOure Teeth thou had'st that ranck'd in goodly state Kept thy Mouthes Gate The first blast of thy cough left two alone The second none This last cough Aelia cought out all thy feare Th' hast left the third cough now no businesse here Out of the Italian A Song To thy Lover Deere discover That sweet blush of thine that shameth When those Roses It discloses All the flowers that Nature nameth In free Ayre Flow thy Haire That no more Summers best dresses Bee beholden For their Golden Lockes to Phoebus flaming Tresses O deliver Love his Quiver From thy Eyes he shoots his Arrowes Where Apollo Cannot follow Featherd with his Mothers Sparrowes O envy not That we dye not Those deere lips whose doore encloses All the Graces In their places Brother Pearles and sister Roses From these treasures Of ripe pleasures One bright smile to cle●re the weather Earth and Heaven Thus made even Both will he good friends together The aire does wooe thee Winds cling to thee Might a word once flye from out thee Storme and Thunder Would sit under And keepe silence round about Thee But if Natures Common Creatures So deare Glories dare not borrow Yet thy Beauty Owes a Duty To my loving lingring sorrow When to end mee Death shall send mee All his Terrors to affright mee Thine eyes Graces Guild their faces And those Terrors shall delight mee When my dying Life is flying Those sweet Aires that often slew mee Shall revive mee Or reprive mee And to many Deaths renew mee Out of the Italian LOve now no fire hath left him We two betwixt us have divided it Your Eyes the Light hath r●st him The heat commanding in my Heart doth sit O! that poore Love be not for ever spoyled Let my Heat to your Light be reconciled So shall these flames whose worth Now all obscured lyes Drest in those Beames start forth And dance before your eyes Or else partake my flames I care not whither And so in mutuall Names Of Love burne both together Out of the Italian WOuld any one the true cause find How Love came nak't a Boy and blind 'T is this listning one day too long To th' Syrens in my Mistresse Song The extasie of a delight So much o're-mastring all his might To that one Sense made all else thrall And so he lost his Clothes eyes heart and all In faciem Augustiff Regis à morbillis integram MVsaredt vocat alma parens Academia Noster Enredit ore suo noster Apollo redit Vultus adhuc suus vultu sua purpura tantum Vivit admixtas pergit amare nives Tune illas violare genas tune illa profanis Morbe ferox tantas ire per or a notis Tu Phoebi faciem tentas vanissime Nostra Nee Phoebe maculas novit habere suas Ipsa sui vindex facies morbum indignatur Ipsa sedet radiis ô bene tuta suis Quippe illic deus est coelûmque sanctius astrum Quippe sub his totus ridet Apollo genis Quòd facie Rex tutus erat quòd caetera tactus Hinc hominem Rex est fassus inde deum On the Frontispiece of Isaacsons Chronologie explained IF with dictinctive Eye and Mind you looke Vpon the Front you see more then one Booke Creation is Gods Booke wherein he writ Each Creature as a Letter filling it History is Creations Booke which showes To what effects the Series of it goes Chronologie's the Booke of Historie and beares The just account of Dayes Moneths and Yeares But Resurrection in a Later Presse And New Edition is the summe of these The Language of these Bookes had all been one Had not th' Aspiring Tower of Babylon Confus'd the Tongues and in a distance hurl'd As farre the speech as men o th' new fill'd world Set then your eyes in method and behold Times embleme Saturne who when store of Gold Coyn'd the first age Devour'd that Birth he fear'd Till History Times eldest Child appear'd And Phoenix-like in spight of Saturnes rage Forc'd from her Ashes Heyres in every age From th' rising Sunne obtaining by just Suit A Springs Ingender and an Autumnes Fruit. Who in those Volumes at her motion pen'd Vnto Creations Alpha doth extend Againe ascend and view Chronology By Optick Skill pulling farre History Neerer whose Hand the piercing Eagles Eye Strengthens to bring remotest Objects nigh Vnder whose Feet you see the Setting Sunne From the darke Gnomon o're her Volumes runne Drown'd in eternall Night never to rise Till Resurrection show it to the eyes Of Earth-worne men and her shrill Trumpets sound Affright the Bones of Mortals
from the ground The Columnes both are crown'd with either Sphere To show Chronology and History beare No other Culmen then the double Art Astronomy Geography impart Or Thus. LEt hoary Time's vast Bowels be the Grave To what his Bowels birth and being gave Let Nature die Phoenix-like from death Revived Nature take a second breath If on Times right hand s●t fai●e Historie If from the seed of empty Ruine she Can raise so faire an Harvest Let Her be Ne're so farre distant yet Chronologie Sharpe sighted as the Eagles eye that can Out-stare the broad-beam'd Dayes Meridian Will have a Perspicill to find her out And through the Night of error and dark doubt Discerne the Dawne of Truth 's eternall ray As when the rosie Morne budds into Day Now that Time's Empire might be amply fill'd Babels bold Artists strive below to build Ruine a Temple on whose fruitfull fall History reares her Pyramids more tall Then were th' Aegyptian by the life the●e give Th' Egyptian Pyramids themselves must live On these she lifts the World and on their base Shewes the two termes and limits of Time's race That the Creation is the Iudgement this That the World's Morning this her Midnight is An Epitaph Vpon Mr. Ashton a conformable Citizen THe modest front of this small floore Beleeve mee Reader can say more Then many a braver Marble can Here lyes a truly honest man One whose Conscience was a thing That troubled neither Church nor King One of those few that in this Towne Honour all Preachers heare their owne Sermons he heard yet not so many As left no time to practise any Hee heard them reverendly and then His practice preach'd them o're agen His Parlour-Sermons rather were Those to the Eye then to the Eare. His prayers tooke their price and strength Not from the lowdnesse nor the length Hee was a Protestant at home Not onely in despight of Rome Hee lov'd his Father yet his zeale Tore not off his Mothers veile To th' Church hee did allow her Dresse True Beauty to true Holinesse Peace which hee lov'd in Life did lend Her hand to bring him to his end When Age and Death call'd for the score No surfets were to reckon for Death tore not therefore but sans strife Gently untwin'd his thread of Life What remaines then but that Thou Write these lines Reader in thy Brow And by his faire Examples light Burne in thy Imitation bright So while these Lines can but bequeath A Life perhaps unto his Death His better Epitaph shall bee His Life still kept alive in Thee Rex Redux I Lle redit redit Hoc populi bona murmura vol●unt Publicus hoc audin ' plausus ad astra refert Hoc omn● sedet in vultu commune serenum Omnibus hinc una est laetitiae facies Rex noster lux nostra redit redeuntis ad ora Aridet totis Anglia laeta genis Quisque suos oculos oculis accendit ab istis Atque novum sacro sumit ab ore diem Forte roges tanto quae digna pericula plausu Evadat Carolus quae mala quósve metus Anne perrerati male fida volumina ponti Ausa illum terris pene negare suis Hospitis an nimii rurcus sibi conscia tellus Vix bene speratum reddat Ibera caput Nil horum nec enim male fida volumina ponti Aut sacrum tellus vidi● Ibera caput Verus amor tamen haec sibi falsa pericula fingit Falsa peric'la solet fingere verus amor At Carolo qui falsa timet nec vera timeret Vera peric'la solet temnere verus amor Illi falsa timens sibi vera pericula temnens Non solum est fidus sed quoque fortis amor Interea nostri satis ille est causa triumphi Et satis ah nostri causa doloris erat Causa doloris erat Carolus sospes licet esset Anglia quod saltem discere posset Abest Et satis est nostri Carolus nunc causa triumphi Dicere quod saltem possumus Ille redit Out of Catullus COme and let us live my Deare Let us love and never feare What the sowrest Fathers say Brightest Sol that dyes to day Lives againe as blith to morrow But if we darke sons of sorrow Set ô then how long a Night Shuts the Eyes of our short light Then let amorous kisses dwell On our lips begin and tell A Thousand and a Hundred score An Hundred and a Thousand more Till another Thousand smother That and that wipe of another Thus at last when we have numbred Many a Thousand many a Hundred Wee 'l confound the reckoning quite And lose our selves in wild delight While our joyes so multiply As shall mocke the envious eye Ad Principem nondum natum NAscere nunc ô nunc quid enim puer alme moraris Nulla tibi dederit dulcior hora diem Ergone tot tardos ô lente morabere menses Rex redit Ipse veni dic bone Gratus ades Nam quid Ave nostrum quid nostri verba triumphi Vagitu melius dixeris ista tuo At maneas tamen nobis nova causa triumphi Sic demum fueris nec nova causa tamen Nam quoties Carolo novus aut nova nascitur infans Revera toties Carolus ipse redit Wishes To his supposed Mistresse WHo ere shee bee That not impossible shee That shall command my heart and mee Where ere shee lye Lock't up from mortall Eye In shady leaves of Destiny Till that ripe Birth Of studied fate stand forth And teach her faire steps to our Earth Till that Divine Idaea take a shrine Of Chrystall flesh through which to shine Meet you her my wishes Be speake her to my blisses And bee yee call'd my absent kisses I wish her Beauty That owes not all his Duty To gaudy Tire or glistring shoo-ty Something more than Taffata or Tissew can Or rampant feather or rich fan More then the spoyle Of shop or silkewormes Toyle Or a bought blush or a set smile A face that 's best By its owne beauty drest And can alone command the rest A face made up Out of no other shop Then what natures white hand sets ope A cheeke where Youth And Blood with Pen of Truth Write what the Reader sweetly ru'th A Cheeke where growes More then a Morning Rose Which to no Boxe his being owes Lipps where all Day A lovers kisse may play Yet carry nothing thence away Lookes that oppresse Their richest Tires but dresse And cloath their simplest Nakednesse Eyes that displaces The Neighbour Diamond and out faces That Sunshine by their owne sweet Graces Tresses that weare Iewells but to declare How much themselves more pretious are Whose native Ray Can tame the wanton Day Of Gems that in their bright shades play Each Ruby there Or Pearle that dare appeare Bee its owne blush bee its owne Tea●e A well tam'd Heart For whose more noble smart Love may bee long chusing a Dart. Eyes that bestow Full quivers on
loves Bow Yet pay lesse Arrowes then they owe. Smiles that can warme The blood yet teach a charme That Chastity shall take no harme Blushes that bin The burnish of no sin Nor flames of ought too hot within Ioyes that confesse Vertue their Mistresse And have no other head to dresse Feares fond and flight As the coy Brides when Night First does that longing lover right Teares quickly fled And vaine as those are shed For a dying Maydenhead Dayes that need borrow No part of their good Morrow From a ●ore spent night of sorrow Dayes that in spight Of Darkenesse by the Light Of a cleere mind are Day all Night Nights sweet as they Made short by lovers play Yet long by th' absence of the Day Life that dares send A challenge to his end And when it comes say Welcome Friend Sydnaean showers Of sweet discourse whose powers Can Crowne old Winters head with flowers Soft silken Hours Open sunnes shady Bowers Bove all Nothing within that lowers What ere Delight Can make Dayes forehead bright Or give Downe to the Wings of Night In her whole frame Have Nature all the Name Art and ornament the shame Her flattery Picture and Poesy Her counsell her owne vertue bee I wish her store Of worth may leave her poore Of wishes And I wish No more Now if Time knowes That her whose radiant Browes Weave them a Garland of my vowes Her whose just Bayes My future hopes can raise A trophie to her present praise Her that dares bee What these Lines wish to see I seeke no further it is shee 'T is shee and heere Lo I uncloath and cleare My wishes cloudy Character May shee enjoy it Whose merit dare apply it But Modesty dares still deny it Such worth as this is Shall fixe my flying wishes And determine them to kisses Let her full Glory My fancyes fly before yee Bee ye my fictions But her story Imprimatur Na Brent FINIS THE TABLE THe Weeper Page 1 The Teare 6 Divine Epigrams begin at page the 8 On the Water of our Lords Baptisme 8 Act. 8. on the Baptized Aethiopian 8 On the Miracle of multiplyed Loaves 8 Vpon the Sepulchre of our Lord 8 The Widows Mights 9 Luke 15. on the Prodigall 9 On the still surviving markes of our Saviours wounds 9 Acts 5. the sick implore St. Peters shadow 9 Mark 7. the Dumbe healed and the people enjoyned silence 10 Mat. 28. Come see the place where the Lord lay 10 To Pontius washing his hands 10 To the Infant Martyrs 10 On the Miracle of Loaves 11 Mark 4. Why are ye afraid O ye of little faith 11 On the blessed Virgins bashfulnesse 12 Vpon Lazarus his Teares 12 Two men went up into the Temple to pray 12 Vpon the Asses that bore our Saviour 12 Mathew 8. I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under my roofe 13 Vpon the Powder day 13 I am the doore 13 Math. 10. The blind cured by the word of our Saviour 14 Math. 27. And he answered nothing 14 To our Lord upon the water made wine 14 Mathew 22. Neither durst any man from that day aske him any more questions 15 Vpon our Saviours Tombe wherein never man was laid 16 It is better to goe to heaven with one eye c. 16 Luke 11. Vpon the dumb divell cast out and the slanderous Iewes put to silence 16 Luke 10. And a certaine Priest comming that way looked on him and passed by 16 Luke 11. Blessed be the paps which thou hast sucked 17 To Pontius washing his blood-stained hands 17 Math. 23. To build the Sepulchres of the Prophets 17 Vpon the Infant Martyrs 18 Ioh. 16. Verily I say unto you yee shall weepe and lament 18 Ioh. 15. Vpon our Lords last comfortable discourse with his Disciples 18 Luk. 16. Dives asking a drop 18 Mark 12. Give to Caesar and to God 19 But now they have seen and hated 19 Vpon the Thornes taken down from our Lords head bloody 19 Luke 7. Shee began to wash his feet with teares and wipe them with the haires of her head 20 On St. Peter cutting off Malchus his eare 20 Iohn 3. But men loved darknesse rathet then light 20 Act. 21. I am ready not onely to be bound but to dye 20 On St. Peter casting away his nets at our Saviours call 20 Our Lord in his Circumcision to his Father 21 On the wounds of our crucified Lord 21 On our crucified Lord naked and bloody 22 Easter day 22 On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Lord 23 Sampson to his Dalilah 24 Psalme 23. 25 Psalme 137. 27 A Himne on the Nativity sung by the Shephcards 28 Vpon the death of a Gentleman 31 Vpon the death of Mr. Herrys 32 Another upon the death of the most desired Master Herrys 33 Another 36 His Epitaph 38 An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife which dyed and were buried together 39 An Epitaph upon Doctor Brooke 40 Vpon Master Stannoughs death 40 Vpon the Duke of York his birth A Panegyrick 41 Vpon Fords two Tragedyes Loves Sacrifice and the broken heart 45 On a foule morning being then to take a Iourney 45 Vpon the faire Aethiopian sent to a Gentlewoman 46 On Marriage 47 To the morning Satisfaction for sleep 47 Loves Horoscope 49 Sospetto d'Herode Libro primo 51 On a Prayer booke sent to Mrs M. R. 74 On Master George Herberts booke intituled the temple of Sacred poems sent to a Gentlewoman 78 In memory of the Vertuous and Learned Lady Madre de Teresa that sought an early Martyrdome 79 An Apologie for the precedent Himne 85 On a Treatise of Charity 86 In Picturam Reverendissimi Episcopi Dr. Andrewes 89 On the Assumption 90 Epitaphium in Dominum Herrissium 92 An Himne for the circumcision day of our Lord 94 On Hope by way of Question an Answer between A. Cowley and R. Crasnaw 96 MVsicks Duell 103 Principi recens natae omen maternae Indolis 108 Out of Virgil in the praise of the Spring 110 With a Picture sent to a friend 111 In praise of Lessius his rule of health 112 The beginning of Heliodorus 114 Out of the Greeke Cupids Cryer 115 On Nanus mounted upon an Ant 117 Vpon Venus putting on Mars his Armes 117 Vpon the same 017 In Senerissimae Regine partum Hyemalem 118 Vpon Bishop Andrewes his Picture before his Sermons 120 Ad Reginam 121 Out of Martiall 122 Out of the Italian A Song 123 Out of the Italian 125 Out of the Italian 126 In faciem Augustiss Regis à morbillis integram 127 On the Frontispice of Isaacsons Chronologie explained 128 Or thus 129 An Epitaph upon Master Ashton a conformable Citizen 130 Rex Redux 131 Out of Catullus 132 Ad Principem nondum natum 133 Wishes to his supposed Mistresse 134 FINIS
blushing ground Lifes late forsaken houses all lay drown'd In their owne bloods deare deluge some new dead Some panting in their yet warme ruines bled While their affrighted soules now wing'd for flight Lent them the last flash of her glimmering light Those yet fresh streames which crawled every where Shew'd that sterne warre had newly bath'd him there Nor did the face of this disaster show Markes of a fight alone but feasting too A miserable and a monstrous feast Where hungry warre had made himself a Guest And comming late had eat up Guests and all Who prov'd the feast to their owne funerall c. Out of the Greeke Cupid's Cryer LOve is lost nor can his Mother Her little fugitive discover Shee seekes shee sighs but no where spyes him Love is lost and thus shee cryes him O yes if any happy eye This roaving wanton shall descry Let the finder surely know Mine is the wagge T is I that owe The winged wand'rer and that none May thinke his labour vainely gone The glad descryer shall not misse To tast the Nectar of a kisse From Venus lipps But as for him That brings him to mee hee shall swim In riper joyes more shall bee his Venus assures him then a kisse But least your eye discerning slide These markes may bee your judgements guide His skin as with a fiery blushing High-colour'd is His eyes still flushing With nimble flames and though his mind Be ne're so curst his Tongue is kind For never were his words in ought Found the pure issue of his thought The working Bees soft melting Gold That which their waxen Mines enfold Flow not so sweet as doe the Tones Of his tun'd accents but if once His anger kindle presently It boyles out into cruelty And fraud Hee makes poore mortalls hurts The objects of his cruell sports With dainty curles his froward face Is crown'd about But ô what place What farthest nooke of lowest Hell Feeles not the strength the reaching spell Of his small hand Yet not so small As 't is powerfull therewithall Though bare his skin his mind hee covers And like a saucy Bird he hovers With wanton wing now here now there 'Bout men and women nor will spare Till at length he perching rest In the closet of their brest His weapon is a little Bow Yet such a one as Iove knowes how Ne're suffred yet his little Arrow Of Heavens high'st Arches to fall narrow The Gold that on his Quiver smiles Deceives mens feares with flattering wiles But ô too well my wounds can tell With bitter shafts 't is sauc't too well Hee is all cruell cruell all His Torch Imperious though but small Makes the Sunne of flames the fire Worse then Sun-burnt in his fire Wheresoe're you chance to find him Cease him bring him but first bind him Pitty not him but feare thy selfe Though thou see the crafty Else Tell down his Silver-drops unto thee They 'r counterfeit and will undoe thee With baited smiles if he display His ●awning cheeks looke not that way If hee offer sugred kisses Start and say The Serpent hisses Draw him drag him though hee pray Wooe intreat and crying say Prethee sweet now let me goe Here 's my Quiver Shafts and Bow I 'le give thee all take all take heed Lest his kindnesse make thee bleed What e're it be Love offers still presume That though it shines 't is fire and will consume HIgh mounted on an Ant Nanus the tall Was throwne alas and got a deadly fall Vnder th' unruly Beasts proud feet he lies All torne with much adoe yet ere he dyes Hee straines thes● words Base Envy doe laugh on Thus did I fall and thus fell Phaethon Vpon Venus putting on Mars his Armes WHat Mars his sword faire Cytherea say Why art thou arm'd so desperately to day Mars thou hast beaten naked and ô then What need'st thou put on armes against poore men Vpon the same PAllas saw Venus arm'd and streight she cry'd Come if thou dar'st thus thus let us be try'd Why foole saies Venus thus provok'st thou mee That being nak't thou know'st could conquer thee In Senerissimae Reginae partum hyemalem SErta puer quis nunc flores non praebeat hortus ●exe mihi facili pollice serta puer Quid tu nescio quos narras mihi stulte Decembres Quid mihi cum nivibus damihi serta puer Nix byems non est nostras quid tale per oras Non est vel si sit non tamen esse potest Ver agitur quaecunque trucem dat larva Decembrem Quid fera cunque fremant frigora ver agitur Nónne vides quali se palmite regia vitis Prodit in sacris quae sedet uvajugis Tam laetis quae bruma solet ridere racemis Quas hyemis pingit purpura tanta genas O Maria O divûm soboles genitrixque Deorum Siccine nostra tuus tempora ludus erunt Siccine tu cum vere tuo nihil horrida brumae Sydera nil madidos sola morare notos Siccine sub medi● poterunt tua surgere brum● Atque suas solùm lilia nosse nives Ergò vel invitis nivibus frendentibus Austris Nostra novis poterunt regna tumere rosis O bona turbatrix anni quae limite noto Tempora sub signis non sinis ire suis O pia praedatrix hyemis quae tristia mundi Murmura tam dulci sub ditione tenes Perge precor nostris vim pulchram ferre Calendis Perge precor menses sic numerare tuos Perge intempestiva utque importuna videri Inque uteri titulos sic rape cuncta tui Sit nobis sit saepe hyemes sic cernere nostras Exhaeredatas floribus ire tuis Saepe sit has vernas hyemes Maiosque Decembres Has per te roseas saepe videre nives Altera gens varium per sydera computet annum Atque suos ducant per ●aga signa dies Nos deceat nimiis tantum permittere nimbis Tempora tam tetricas ferre Britanna vices Quin nosirum tibi nos omnem donabimus annum In partus omnem expende Maria tuos Sit tuus ille uterus nostri bonus arbiter anni Tempus in titulos transeat omne tuos Namquae alia indueret tam dulcia nomina mensis Aut qua tam posset candidus ire toga Hanc laurum Ianus sibi vertice vellet utroque Hanc sibi vel tota Chloride Majus emet Tota suam vere expulso respublica florum Reginam cuperent te sobolemve tuam O bona sors anni cum cuncti ex ordine menses Hic mihi Carolides hic Marianus erit Vpon Bishop Andrewes his Picture before his Sermons THis reverend shadow cast that setting Sun Whose glorious course through our Horrizon run Left the dimme face of this dull Hemisphaeare All one great eye all drown'd in one great Teare Whose faire illustrious soule led his free thought Through Learnings Vniverse and vainely sought Roome for her spatious selfe untill at length Shee found the way