Night Starâ—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 whâ—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 Nâ—ght The while his twisted Tayle hee gnaw'd for spâ—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 hâ—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 Grâ—efes expression there Is what in signe of joy among the bâ—est The faces lightning or a smile is here Those stings of care that his strong Heart oppâ—est A desperate Oh mee drew from his deepe Brest 26. Oh mee thus bellow'd hee oh mee â— what great Portents before mine eyes their Powers
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 Illinâ— Carolus Iucobus indè In patris faciles subire famam Ducent fata furoribus decoris Cùm terror sacer AnglicÃque 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 QuÃque imbellis adhuc adultus olim Puris expatiabitur genarum Campis imperiosior Cupido O quà m certa superbiore pennâ Ibunt spicula melleaeque morâ—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 laâ—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 moreâ— 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 staâ—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 stâ—â— 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 â—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 wâ—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 Vâ—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 tâ—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 â— 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 â—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 â—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
advance And serves my purer sight onely to beat Downe my proud Thought and leave it in a Trance Frowne I and can great Nature keep her seat And the gay starrs lead on their Golden dance Can his attempts above stâ—ll prosp'rous be Auspicious still in spâ—ght of Hell and me 27. Hee has my Heaven what would he more whose bright And radiant Scepter this bold hand should beare And for the never-fading fields of Light My faire Inheritance hee confines me here To this darke House of shades horrour and Night To draw a long-liv'd Death where all my cheere Is the solemnity my sorrow weares That Mankinds Torment waits upon my Teares 28. Darke dusky Man he needs would single forth To make the partner of his owne pure â—ay And should we Powers of Heav'n Spirits of worth Bow our bright Heads before a King of clay It shall not be said I and clombe the North Where never wing of Angell yet made way What though I mâ—st my blow yet I strooke high And to dare something is some victory 29. Is hee not satisfied meanes he to wrest Hell from me too and sack my Territories Vile humane Nature means he not t' invest O my despight with his divinest Glories And rising with rich spoiles upon his Brest With his faire Triumphs fill all â—uture stories Must the bright armes of Heav'n rebuke these eyes Mocke me and dazle my darke Mysteries 30. Art thou not Lucifer hee to whom the droves Of stars that guild the Morne in charge were given The nimblest of the lightning-winged Loves The fairest and the first-borne smile of Heav'n Looke in what Pompe the Mistresse Planet moves Rev'rently circled by the lesser seaven Such and so rich the flames that from thine eyes O prest the common-people of the skyes 31. Ah wretch what bootes thee to cast back thy eyes Where dawning hope no beame of comfort showes While the reflection of thy forepast joyes Renders thee double to thy present woes Rather make up to thy new miseries And meet the mischiefe that upon thee growes If Hell must mourne Heav'n sure shall sympathize What force cannot effect fraud shall devise 32. And yet whose force feare I have I so lost My selfe my strength too with my innocence Come try who dares Heav'n Earth what ere dost boast A borrowed being make thy bold defence Come thy Creator too what though it cost Mee yet a second fall wee 'd try our strengths Heav'n saw us struggle once as brave a sight Earth now should see and tremble at the sight 33. Thus spoke th'impatient Prince and made a pause His foule Hags rais'd their heads clapt their hands And all the Powers of Hell in full applause Flourisht their Snakes and tost their flaming brands Wee said the horrid sisters wait thy lawes Th' obsequious handmaids of thy high commands Be it thy part Hells mighty Lord to lay On us thy dread commands ours to obey 34. What thy Alecto what these hands can doe Thou mad'st bold proofe upon the brow of Heav'n Nor should'st thou bate in pride because that now To these thy sooty Kingdomes thou art driven Let Heav'ns Lord chide above lowder then thou In language of his Thunder thou art even With him below here thou art Lord alone Boundlesse and absolute Hell is thine owne 35. If usuall wit and strength will doe no good Vertues of stones nor herbes use stronger charmes Anger and love best hookes of humane blood If all faâ—le wee 'l put on our proudest Armes And pouring on Heav'ns face the Seas huge flood Quench his curl'd fires wee 'l wake wâ—th our Alarmes Ruâ—ne where e're she sleepes at Natures feet And crush the world till his wide corners meet 36. Reply'd the proud King O my Crownes Defence Stay of my strong hopes you of whose brave worth The frighted stars tooke faint experience When 'gainst the Thunders mouth wee marched forth Still you are prodigal of your Love's expence In our great projects both 'gainst Heav'n and Earth I thanke you all but one must single out Cruelty she alone shall cure my doubt 37. Fourth of the cursed knot of Hags is shee Or rather all the other three in one Hells shop of slaughter shee do's oversee And still assist the Execution But chiefly there do's shee delight to be Where Hells capacious Cauldron is set on And while the black soules boile in their owne gore To hold them down and looke that none seethe o're 38. Thrâ—ce howl'd the Caves of Night and thrice the sound Thundring upon the bankes of those black lakes Rung through the hollow vaults of Hell profound At last her lâ—stning Eares the noise o'retakes Shee lifts her sooty lampes and looking round A gen'rall hâ—sse from the whole Tire of snakes Rebounding through Hells inmost Cavernes came In answer to her formidable Name 39. Mongst all the Palaces in Hells command No one so mercilesse as this of hers The Adamantine Doors for ever stand Impenetrable both to prai'rs and Teares The walls inexorable steele no hand Of Time or Teeth of hungry Ruine feares Their ugly ornaments are the bloody staines Of ragged limbs torne sculls dasht our Braines 40. There has the purple Vengeance a proud seat Whose ever-brandisht Sword is sheath'd in blood About her Hate Wrath Warre and slaughter sweat Bathing their hot limbs in life's pretious flood There rude impetuous Rage do's storme and fret And there as Master of this murd'ring brood Swinging a huge Sith stands impartiall Death With endlesse businesse almost out of Breath 41. For Hangings and for Curtaines all along The walls abominable ornaments Are tooles of wrath Anvills of Torments hung Fell Executioners of foule intents Nailes hammers hatchets sharpe and halters strong Swords Speares with all the fatall Instruments Of sin and Death twice dipt in the dire staines Of Brothers mutuall blood and Fathers braines 42. The Tables furnisht with a cursed Feast Which Harpyes with leane Famine feed upon Vnfill'd for ever Here among the rest Inhumane Erisi-â—thon too makes one Tantalus Atreus Progne here are guests Wolvish Lyâ—aon here a place hath won The cup they drinke in is Medusa's scull Which mixt with gall blood they quaffe brim full 43. The foule Queens most abhorred Maids of Honour Medaea Iezabell many a meager Witch With Circe Scylla stand to wait upon her But her best huswifes are the Parcae which Still worke for her and have their wages from her They prick a bleeding heart at every stitch Her cruell cloathes of costly threds they weave Which short-cut lives of murdred Infants leave 44. The house is hers'd about with a black wood Which nods with many a heavy headed tree Each flowers a pregnant poyson try'd and good Each herbe a Plague The winds sighes timed-bee By a black Fount which weeps into a flood Through the thick shades obscurely might you see Minotaures Cyclopses with a darke drove Of Dragons Hydraes Sphinxes fill the Grove 45. Here Diomed's Horses Phereus dogs appeare With the fierce Lyons of
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 â—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