for to beare A Soule so matchlesse so Divinely faire Vriell did Eliah's Chariot guide In which up to Olympus thou didst ride As Sol beneath a Cloud as Gold in dung So wert thou conversant on Earth too long Prosperity could not beguile thy sence Nor Fortunes frown cause thy impatience I am not partiall in what I averre I would be Truths and not thy Chronicler Hadst thou surviv'd in those imperfect times When He find wrote and Homer sang his rimes Thou hadst been VESTA or some Dietie More glorious more divinely chaste then she â—â—r had those of that age thy virtues seen The first and greatest Sybill thou hadst been Or had the Romish Faith thy soule surprizd Most sure ere this thou hadst been canoniz'd And plac'd it Rubrick found as faire a day As Agnes Agathe or Vrsula What though the pompe and that affected state Which many a Lais doth accumulate Was wanting at thy death and in the darke Perhaps without the Priest or Parish Clarke Thou wert but halfe inhum'd this is thy glory That both in life and death things transitory Were thy contempt and scorn perhaps t' was so Decreed above thou to thy grave shouldst go Like Moses wrapt in Mysts least after dayes Reading this story of thy lasting praise Should erect temples to thy vertuous Name Search for thy body and adore the same Rest Rest thou glorious Saint the feigned praise Which doth unto the skies the glory raise Of Aria Portia and Lucretia Evadne or fam'd Artimesia Suffers eclipse in thee O sad 〈…〉 That thou whose Virtues were so Paramount Should find so little Roome i th' book of Fame Yet this shall serve to keep alive thy Name I would say more did not my teares prevent Be this thy Pyramid and Monument HER EPITAPH WIth reverend awe this earth tread on It merits your Devotion Beneath this turfe lies Chastitie Wisedome and reall Pietie Kneaded together buried here Though without Tombe or Sepulcher Lies Arias Loyall love and all That we can rare or precious call A woman who for wit might vie With Pallas for sobrietie With the fam'd * Lucrece Wife of Collatine Her gesture grave her words Divine No Fortune could her thoughts divide A Saint she liv'd a Saint she dy'd THE ADVENTUROUS BARD OR UXORIOUS ORPHEUS HIS DESCENT VVHile Sweet Euridice in flight Invok'd the sad and shady night For to abscond her from the eye Of * Aristaeus him that sought her lustfully The chaste soule as she fled ne're spide A Snake by whose fell sting she di'd Lurking i' th rank grown grasse but all The Dryad's at her funerall Wept on high Pangaea and The Rodopeian Towers the Land Of Rhaesus yea the Gets for woe Athenian Orythia too But he his sick soule solacing Oft to his instrument would sing Of his lov'd Wife o' th shoare alone Morning nor night could end his moane He through the gloomie wood did venter Plutos greisly cave to enter To 'th Ghosts and their grim King he went Hearts that to prayers did ne're relent From Hells dark nookes the Ghosts do throng Even shadowes moved by his song Came forth by thousands as a flight Of little Birds i' th woods whom night Or showers do thither drive in shoales Ghosts of both sexes the great soules Of Heroes and of Virgins there Youths buried ere their parents were Whom swart Cocytus banks inclose And that black poole that never flowes Styx nine times 'bout it rowles his waves Hells inmost Vaults and torturing Caves Were op't th' Eumenides forbeare To menace with their snakie haire Yea Cerberus to bark refraines Ixions wheele unmoov'd remaines Returning not least touch'd had he Behind him his Euridice Restord to life for this accord Proserpine made with her black Lord Forgetfull love a frenzie wrought But triviall could Fiends pardon ought Neare to the light forgetfull he Must needs vie with Euridice Which frustrates all the paines he took The Tyrants Covenant is broke And thrice Avernus lake resounds Thus she EURIDICE TO ORPHEUS What madness thus confounds Thy self and me stern Fates surprize Me bcak Deaths slumbers close my eyes Farwell I m'e summond and must goe Back to the yron Isle of Woe As smoak fleets so she vanishd there And left him for to claspe the ayre Hee 'd try againe no more alas Will churlish Charon let him passe What should he do the Fiends do move With teares with Prayers the Gods above His cold Wife serried thence away In Charons boate seven Moneths they say Weeping nere Strymons forfeit waves In dark and solitary Caves To hard Rocks did his Ills lament Trees mov'd and Tygers did relent So Philomel on an Orange Tree Wailes her youngs losse whom cruelly A Husbandman ere fleg'd for flight Snatch'd thence she spends in griefe the night From a bough sings her sorrow there With moanes filling the places neare Now heavenly Muse with Art relate The Thracian Poets future fate Nor Venus or bright Hymens rites Mov'd him wandring in woefull plights Ore Riphaean fields where frost er'e lies Scythian yee snowy Tanais Bewailing Plutos bootlesse boone And that againe his Wife was gone Those Dames whose beds he did despise Raging in Bacchus Sacrifice His limbs they strowd ore th' fields abroad When swift Oeagrian Hebrus flood His ravishd head did beare along Euridice his dying tongue Ah poore Euridice did resound Which words the banks did ecchoe round His Father Phoebus made more mone Then when he lost his Phaeton Some do avouch that for three dayes He left his Carre put off his Rayes To see his Orpheus rudely rent Vp to Olympus streight he went Fell at Joves feet of him desires A Tombe he grants what he requires His Sonns torne limbs he up doth gather Wailing like to some earthly Father Burying them in the milkie-way Caus'd by a bright refulgent ray He darts with a Paternal care On his lov'd Orpheus Sepulcher Here Orpheus sits and sweetly sings And strongly strikes the quavering strings When Jove and all the gods do come For they must reeds passe by this Tombe Vnto their Senate House and there Determine for to smight or spare Still-ever-clogd-vicious-mankind Here the sweet singer is confin'd Yet in no worse a prison lies Then what immures the Dieties The End PASTORALS THE FIRST PASTORAL Amarillis Claius The ARGUMENT Amarillis doth discover Her desires unto her Lover Shewing how her nature scornes Those whom Vertue not adornes After which the swaine and she Intend by Hymen linkt to be IN the merry moneth of May When the Birds on every Spray Sat chirping Amarillis faire Softer then down sweter then ayre Drove her floks from forth their fold Which when Claius did behold He said lov'd Nymph be pleasd that I May you this day accompany Our flocks together feeding wee Beneath some broad-branch'd Myrtle Tree Will sit where with my pipe will I Make you pleasant mellodie And when Sol our shades shall lengthen We with Cates our selves will strengthen Within my bag by me is put As good
he the Elizian Joyes doth contemplate CLAUDIAN Charons assotiate let him be To ferrie Soules in his Wherrie And tug the oare till the earth dissolved be TIBULLUS And then be cag'd with swart Tysiphone PROPERTIUS Sodoms destruction still inviron him MANTUA Ever in black Cocytus let him swim AUSONIUS Seat him where Nero sits CATULLUS Place him on Some ever-flaming Grydion PAL The like I Vote MANILUS Let him still melt and ne're expire In THIESTES sickly fire BOETHIUS With Homers Momus Lucian seat him And let his Fancy ever cheat him APOLLO These are your Votes OMNES They are APOLLO Then thus I crown your censures Japetus Sits where my peircing Rayes ne're shoote With sullen Saturne darke as soot All about them is the skie There place this Critick Mercury Every day let him torment tasts Varying as their Votes have past A SHOUT So let him ever ban his Birth OMNES. Thankes great Apollo Heaven and Earth Still blesse thy Beames APOLLO Now all be gon Thus endeth our SOCRATICK SESSION MERCURY * Hyperion a name of APOLLO Hyperion and Homer all alone Are flown up to the milkie path And now every Bard that hath Place in Elizium follow me along Each Prophet chaunting a Triumphant song The End A MAUSOLEAN MONUMENT Erected By a SOROWFULL SONNE over His Deceased Parents With THREE PASTORALS Two of them alluding to some Late Proceedings between Parties By S. SHEPPARD LONDON Printed by G. D. for Thomas Bucknell at the Signe of the Golden Lion in Duck-Lane 1651. To the worthy my much honoured Kinsman Christopher Clapham of Beamsly Esquire SIR I Know you are as farre from pride as Ignorance and not onely understand but love indeavours of this kind the ensueing Ellegies memorizing my much honoured Parents I present to your Patronage for that you were well acquainted with their persons when on Earth and can witnesse with me to the World that I am not partiall in my prayses Sir I have a hope that reason ere long may clear your eye-sight that so at length you may looke up and view him whom hitherto you have unkindly neglected to hasten which desired day I have not onely allarumed you with groanes from graves but do also sound Pan's Pipe in your eares dedicating unto you also the following Eglogues and I beseech you assure your selfe that as they cannot prove disgracefull to me so they must needs be esteemed an addition of Honour to you among all the Poets in that wise age wherein Moecenas lived Virgil and Horace were the onely the onely two whose mean Fortunes needed his liberallitie as well as their virtues deserved his acquaintance how liberall he was their acknowledgements in their workes have testified to the World Sir you are blest with much substance you cannot better provide for your name then to be kind to those in whose power it is either to cajol or canonize you to all posteritie I may safely averre that it was happy for Moecenas not onely that Virgil and Horace lived in his time but that those two famous men should live in such estates as to need his bounty though that excellent Epigarmmatist Martiall could say Sint Moecenates non deerunt Flacce Marones Yet the contrary by experience hath been found Maroes have been borne when no Moecenasses have lived to cherish them As Homer the wonder of Posteritie in his owne time little esteemed and Moecenasses have lived and wanted Maroes Alexander the great then whom none more desirous of Fame or more able to requite yet if we may credit Arianus found not one Poet to memorize his actions I have been Sir some thing prolix on this subject of Poets and Patrons to make you sensible that your liberality to the Muses will be retributed with dovble advantage you may as you please determine of me that as I never had I care not how soon I loose Sir I am Yours Affectionately devoted S. SHEPPARD FUNERAL ELLEGIES AN ELLEGIE ON THE DEATH OF MY MOST DEARE AND REVEREND FATHER DOCTOR HARMAN SHEPPARD who Deceased Iuly 12. 1639. IN what words shall I cloath my Verse whil'st I O Father do weep out thy Ellegie Stab me some one that loves me that my blood Spouting from forth my veines like to a flood I may take thence my Ink and so proceed To write a line for every ounce I bleed Prompt me some Ghost Melpome thy aide Afford O thou most sad dejected Maid I court thee now as chiefest of the Nine And truth to say thou onely art Divine And Lovely in my eyes helpe me to moane Thou that for fifty slaughtered Sonnes did'st groane Whiles thy faire City sparkled to the skies And thou each minute anxious of surprize Thy griefe as mine was most transcendent sure And mine with thine shall evermore endure What direfull Plannet enemy to man Usurp'd the Hemispheare what influence ran O're the Earths surface and produc'd that day On which my Reverend Syre was snatch'd away Yee Fatall Sisters whom all mortals dread Oh how durst you in furie cut his thread Who was Joves darling and whose single skill Curb'd yron Mors and slav'd him to his will While like another Aesculapius He redeem'd soules destind for Erebus And by the working minerall alone Gave them from death a sure redemption Great Paracelsus Son he called was And by his skill as strange things brought to passe He knew the motions of the Heavens how farre Extent Jehovah hath assign'd each starre Orions progresse and the hidden cause Makes Cynthia varie gives Oceanus Lawes Sleep blessed Spirit in thy gellid urne All I can doe is thy great losse to mourne And by this deathlesse Verse to raise thy fame That after times may reverence thy name HIS EPITAPH GReat Aesculapiu's Son here lies A Leech that cur'd all malladies A Paracelsian and yet knew Better then Gallen how to do He taught the operations And virtues of most hearbes and stones The day and houre he did impart That Mors would strike him with his dart Three yeares before his Soule went hence Age layd him here no impotence Grim Death it to the soule did grieve His skill so many should reprieve Destin'd to Charons Boate in yre With Atropos he did conspire And contrary to Joves Decree Rob'd him of his Mortalitie When he had numbered ninetie yeares Sigh'd for with sobbs condol'd in teares AN ELLEGIE ON THE DEATH OF MY DEARE AND TRULY VERTUOUS MOTHER Mis. PETTRONELLA SHEPPARD Who Deceased September 10. 1650. ALL I can do I will Nature alone Doth not enjoyn't the valluation I set on Vertue doth command my Quill Tryumphant Saint these lines for to distill Thou gav'st me life now thou hast lost thy breath â—et me at least preserve thy Name from Death â— will not taxe the starres or on pretence Of griefe defie each heavenly influence Quarrell with Atropos give Mors the lye And denounce warre against each Destinie For snatching thee away a speciall Fate From hence to Heaven did thy Soule translate This dirty orbe not worthy
and earth his twelve deliverers he One where of fell into the dreadfull Sea Before him calls their number he makes even And gives them residence neare him in Heaven THE ALLEGORY MIraculous Prediction sugered song Wonderously warbled by an Heathens tongue Christ the true Jove the Lord and King of Heaven By the Decree of Providence was driven As 't were in exile doom'd mans form to take Our Grandsyres Garden-Sin to expiate Twelve Dovelike men regard their innocence Not tutord in the Schole of eloquence When by sterne Tyrants rage Christs sacred Truth Lay gasping Kill'd in'ts Non-age ere grown youth From their mellifluous mouthes such Nectar flowes The infant Veritie a strong man growes And Jesus is acknowledg'd the sole Lord Of Heaven and Earth Judas a deed abhor'd Put on by unresisted power of Fate To his damnation dares to perpetrate Into Avernus falls black Barathrum The wickeds burning Mare Mortuum But the worlds Architector doth supply That losse and makes up the Society When in the shape of fiery tongues his spirit Findes a fit man the office to inherit Who now in one mixt concord joyntly sing Tryumphant Paeans to their Heavenly King EPIG 21. To Mr. Glascow a solution of his Question what Wit is and who ought chiefly to drink Sherrie HEe 's wittie and he onely that can speak Things little greatly and things dull and weake In their own entity can so embelish With flowry eloquence that they shall relish The nicest pallat can make Barren things And empty honoured as the Acts of Kings Rendering them fruitfully and fully too The man my Glascow that these things can do May be called wittie for his skill Divine And worth the favour of the God of Wine EPIG 22. Joves Raping Europa IF we beleeve the wittie Sulâ—ian Jove Was pleas'd in shape a lustfull â—ull to prove In all proportion sure as strong as he Leap't the prodigious lustfull Pasiphae For faire Europas sake great Jove thy brow Should have had hornes when Io was a Cow EPIG 23. Lucians memoriall COuld Charon chuse but laugh alow'd To see thy Soule ' mongst others crowd Who with such art did'st him deride To have passage to the other side Or wer 't thou not so much abhord By him he threw thee over board Hating thy Trunke should lade his Wherrie Now in Cocytus fishes worrie Thy Ravens Soule Fishes in Forme As once thy carrion lumpe was torne On earth thou can'st not now aspire To carp at the Meonian Lyre Excellent Rogue erect thy eyes See all the deathlesse Dieties Laugh at thy dolor and esteem It just because thou didst blaspheme EPIG 24. The transformation of Narcissus NArcissus once a Cupid add but wings Who too much trusted to deceitfull springs A flower now to the flood enclines and so By that which was his ruine he doth grow While with Narcissus on our selves we doate We lose our selves and act we know not what EPIG 25. T is money makes the man NOw onely wealth prevailes let him be base Descended of a vile and vulgar race Be he a sot a foole yea a meere swine Yet if he have but money and goe fine He shall be honour'd by our sonnes of earth As the best he that comes of noble birth Be he debauch'd yet he 's a second Cato Money makes him divine he equalls Plato He 's Virtuous Wise well borne and what you will That can with money both his pockets fill EPIG 26. To Mrs. Rhodes SItting reading ever spinning Knitting kneading never linning Painting progging ever doing Fainting cogging ever woing For knacks as Girdles Ribbons Lace Striving at Feasts for the best place Yet still at hatred spited loathed As unto Lust and Hell betrothed Well may it be if truely Bernard sweares That Devils sway thy eyes and stop thy eares EPIG 27. Epitaph on a young man that dyed on his Wedding Day HYmen hath lost his honour here doth lie A young man who as soon as wed did die EPIG 28. On the death of Mary Queen of Scots THe doome of Judges fore appointed Racking the Law beyond all reason To death condemn'd a Queen anointed Without allegiance finding Treason The Axe to do the execution Shun'd to cut of a head once crown'd The Hangman lost his Resolution To kill a Queen so much renound Remorse in hangmen and in steele Yet Judges no remorse to feele O henceforth may there ne're be seen By English eyes a headlesse Queen EPIG 29. To my much honoured unckle M. Paul Clapham VVHy bring'st thou not to light thy worthy layes That we may crown thee with a wreath of Bays But thou art wiser far alas then I And scorn'st to have those judge thy poesie Whose sordid souls cannot afford them Art Of Hopkins maymed Psalmes to sing a part Who take the lines to pieces that they read Wound some wire-drawing others and do need A Prompter M. P's Sonnets to con or'e But let not these Deare Sir I you implore Hinder the wise from what they else might gaine Who shall with shouts reward your learned paine For though we cannot tie the tongues of Fooles 'T were madnesse therefore to pull down the Schools EPIG 30. On Sir Phillip Sydneys Decease VVHen * Venus Aericina saw brave Sydney die She threw her purple Ceston clean away As when Adonis bath'd in blood did lie At her faire feet weeping she thus did say For Mars I plaine and not for him alone In Sydney Mars and * A name of Apollo Sminthus both are gone EPIG 31. Disorder the fore-runner of Ruine BOth bodies Politick and Naturall By this ill-shaped enemy doe fall * The Ottoman Empire Christendomes whip who now doth so are so high By this in her own ruine low shall lie Factions those Comma's are ordain'd by God When he 'l bring Kingdomes to their period EPIG 32. A journey to Totnam Court IT was the time when Lady VER had dight The earth with garments green and pleasant flowers When Virgins for to walk the fields delight There for to sport them with their Paramours I with a crew of those whose youthfull blood Did swiftly glide within them went to walke All of us being in a merry mood Joves thigh-borne sonne compell'd our tongues to talke With us a traine of Nymphs in garments gay Whose beauties dim'd the Sun did passe along And unto Totnam Court we took our way To heare sweet Philomell's delitious song But so it hap'd the Heavens began to lowre While thunder rent the Aire the lightning flame Shot from the Clouds who 'gan amaine to powre Jove squeez'd their spungie sides and now we came For shelter to a pleasant seated Grove Whose branches met there each man did imbrace A Beauty and I think the Queen of Love Had tane up that for her residing place For er'e we parted thence the Lasses brave Had what Aeneas unto Dido gave EPIG 33. Valour alwaies accompanied with Love THey swell with LOVE that are with VALOVR prest VENVS DOVES in a head-piece wish to rest
thinks thy Noble Soul Should not be timorous Who 's he dares Mortimer controule Fate must not menace us ISSABEL I could rejoyce that he were dead But that I durst conspire To macerate his vitall thread Is horrible and Dire MORTIMER In that in that alone faire Queen Thy Love is manifest All had been nought had this not been In sanguine Lines expre'st ISSABEL Then let our Loves obstructer die But I Prognosticate Many that his Throne shall supplie Shall taste the selfe-same Fate MORTIMER No matter I am sure my brow Shall ne're empaled be With Brittains wreath a Crown I know Was not ordain'd for mee ISSABEL Oh but unhappie Edwards Sonne See'st not how he does lower Hee knowes although a Child what 's done He must ere long have power MORTIMER But I 'le anticipate his time The Boy shall to his Syre That he is Edwards is his Crime Ere long he shall expire ISSABEL But my distress'd Soule doth Divine Thou by his rage shalt Perish I justly in a Prison pine That durst such Treason cherish EPIG 22. To the hopefull and excellently Ingenious Mr. JOHN QUARLES IT were a Treason ' gainst Apollo's Gam Should I not consecrate one Epigram To thee sweet Quarles whose Person though I ne'r Did blesse my eyes with I affect most dear Heyre to thy Fathers Genius Hee whose Braine Measur'd the Earth and Fathomed the Maine Whose Theologick Layes I do admire Who drew the Starr's down with his Thespian Lyre How like thy Father dost thou strike the Strings Soaring aloft borne on those very wings Rap't him to the third Heaven where hee 's now Wearing as faire an Anadem on 's brow As god-like Bartas claimes go thou but on And doubt not of a Chaplet and a Throne EPIG 23. On Mr. Chapmans Incomparable Translation of Homers Workes VVHat none before durst ever venture on Unto our wonder is by Chapman done Who by his skill hath made great Homers Song To vaile it's Bonnet to our English tongue So that the Learned well may question it Whether in Greek or English Homer writ O happy Homer such an able Pen To have for thy Translator happier then * By Golding Ovid or * By Phaer Virgil who beyond their strength Are sttretcht each Sentence neare a Mile in length But our renoun'd Chapman worthy praise And meriting the never blasted Bayes Had rendered Homer in a genuine sence Yea and hath added to his Eloquence And in his Comments his true sence doth shew Telling Spondanus what he ought to know Eusthatius and all that on them take Great Homers Mistick meaning plaine to make Yeeld him more dark with farr fetcht Allegories Sometimes mistaking clean his learned Stories As 'bout the flie * Menalaus Agamemnons Brother a Soft pated Prince as Homer covertly renders him throughout his Illiads and as Mr. Chapman hath aptly observed in Homer Menalaus did inspire Junos retreat Achilles strange desire but he to his own sence doth him restore And Comments on him better then before Any could do for which with Homer wee Will yeeld all Honour to his Memory EPIG 24. Epitaph on Mr. Flood REader thou need'st no Inundation feare Yet be it known a Flood 's Imprisoned here EPIG 25. To Mr. E. G. YOu say Sir that I do obscurely live And my retyr'dnesse doth suspicion give Fame you say on wings doth flie Whole aves himselfe doth living die 'T is true I do in darknesse goe That I am thought-bound well I know Honour I seek not I flight Fame I feele within what those do blame That are without I scorn 't is true The World it me I honour you EPIG 26. Epitaph on Mr. James Gourd a singing-man HFre lies a Chorister whose voice appli'd Unto the Organ oft hath dignifi'd His maker who so likt his Carroling He took him into heaven there to sing EPIG 27. To the PARLIAMENT of ENGLAND YOu are the Braine the Liver and the Heart Wee are the Hands Of this great Body and the Vitall part The Feet whereon it stands The Bones and Bulke which must the Burthen beare Therefore without offence With you wee sure may claime an equall share ' Specially in the Common sence EPIG 28. To Mr. Edward Gosling pittying my want of Books THe rage of these rude times hath snatch'd away My Books from Aesop to Mirandula I now for Books have 'bove my head the skies The Truth for Light and Reason for my Eyes Under me Earth about me Ayre and Sea Vertue for Guide and Nature for my Way And truth to say in Books as Clouds men see Of whose Embracements Centaures gotten be EPIG 29. A Paralell AS Humours drawn up from the Ground Are unto many Functions bound ' Cause of their native property And climes through which their journeys be Some Meteors that amaze below Some Comets that fore-threaten woe Some hailestones that afflict the earth Some raine which hastens every birth Lightning and Thunder made of those Cold regions double heates inclose So is mankind in other fashion Rais'd and let fall with his own passion Form'd Transformed made instruments In many shapes and many vents Feeding great men as Vapours do And vading Scourge their Parents too Some mishap'd Meteors terrifying True Spirits under Tyrants lying Others like Windes and made to blow To breath themselves and overthrow Others some like Dewes where they touch Exhalation-like some flame too much Hatching in heates of power and will Thunders and Flames t' amaze and kill EPIG 30. To Mr. John Sob of these times FAme and Religion but assure Vaine man to give wounds and endure Those Princes still most famous are Who staine most earth with blood in warre As when windes ' mongst themselves do jarre So restlesse humours bring forth warre Seas then are tost the waves do fight The people beare the wounds of might All the diseases of the head Descending till the Limbs be dead EPIG 31. The Character of an accomplisht Man HEe that is moulded of a noble mind Dares beare with Atlas Heaven on his back Flies not with feathers of a Buzzard kind Doth reverence not feare the Thunder crack Sups up his sighs and swallowes down his griefe Beggs but of God or of his great Vicegerents Cannot endure to name the word Reliefe And serves but Honour or her lov'd Adherents Knowes his Deserts and yet cannot Importune Bites on bare need and yet laments no lack Hates to be call'd or thought the Child of Fortune Stoops not to Death untill his heart-strings crack Lives like himselfe and at his latest breath Dies like himselfe a Conquerour of Death EPIG 32. To his Excellency the Lord Generall Cromwell SIr Power is proud till it look down to Feare Though onely safe by ever looking there Kings Thrones were ever like enchanted fires Mighty to see and easie to passe over The Torrid Zone of Tyranny retyres Into the Frigid and can ne're recover Its Pristine Station when t' is dislocated By Providence and Power ingemminated Sir â— confesse when one man