be Or will the chambers of death honour thee Thy call is not a summons to the Bar Of Justice but a throne where mercies are Like flowing balm To mitigate and calm The tumult of a rageing conscience Whose pricking bitter ecchoing sense Holds out a flag of death whose motto runs No hope no peace no such rebellious Sons But Lord thy sweeter promise is the ground We lean build upon canst thou be found Lesse than thy self A ship-destroying shelf No though an Angel from thine Altar swear My sins unpardonable are My crimes so great cannot forgiven bee Yet Lord I come yet Lord I trust in thee O then accept my Heavy laden Soul Crush'd with the burden of her sins so foul She dares not brook Once up to look But drown'd in tears presumes to come on board And for this once to take thy word If I at last prove ship-wrack'd for my pain I 'le never venture soul more so again A Sing-song on Clarinda's Wedding NOw that Love's Holiday is come And Madg the Maid hath swept the room And trimm'd her spit and pot A wake my merry Muse and sing The Revells and that other thing That must not be forgot As the gray morning dawn'd t is sed Clarinda broke out of her bed Like Cynthia in her pride Where all the Maiden Lights that were Compriz'd w ithin our Hemisphaere Attended at her side But wot you then with much a doe They dress'd the Bride from top to toe And brought her from her chamber Deck'd in her robes and garments gay More sumptuous than the live-long-day Or Stars enshrin'd in Amber The sparkling bullose of her eyes Like two ecclipsed Suns did rise Beneath her christal brow To shew like those strange accidents Some suddain changable events Were like to hap below Her cheeks bestreak'd with white and red Like pretty tell-tales of the bed Presag'd the blustring night With his encricling armes and shade Resolv'd to swallow and invade And skreen her virgin light Her lips those threds of scarlet dye Wherein Love's charmes and quiver lye Legions of sweets did crown Which smilingly did seem to say O crop me crop me whiles you may A non th' are not mine own Her Breasts those melting Alps of snow On whose fair hills in open shew The God of Love lay napping Like swelling Buts of lively Wine Upon their ivory stells did shine To wait the lucky tapping Her waste that slender type of man Was but a small and single span Yet I dare safely swear He that whole thousands has in fee Would forfeit all so he might bee Lord of the Mannor there But now before I passe the line Pray Reader give me leave to dine And pause here in the midle The Bridegroom and the Parson knock With all the Hymeneall flock The Plum-cake and the Fidle When as the Priest Clarinda sees He stared as 't had bin half his fees To gaze upon her face And if the spirit did not move His continence was far above Each sinner in the place With mickle stir he joyn'd their hands And hamp'red them in marriage bands As fast as fast might bee Where still me thinks me thinks I hear That secret sigh in every eare Once love remember mee Which done the Cook he knock'd amain And up the dishes in a train Come smoaking two and two With that they wip'd their mouths and sate Some fell to quaffing some to prate Ay marry and welcome too In pay'â—s they thus impal'd the meat Roger and Marget and Thomas and Kate Rafe and Bess Andrew and Maudlin And Valentine eke with Sybell so sweet Whose cheeks on each side of her snuffers did meet As round and as plump as a codling When at the last they had fetched their freez And mired their stomacks quite up to yâ— knees In claret for and good chear Then then began the merry din For as it was thought they were all on the pin O what kissing and clipping was there But as luck would have it the Parson said grace And to frisking dancing they shuffled apace Each Lad took his Lass by the fist And when he had squeez'd her and gaum'd her untill The fat of her face ran down like a mill He toll'd for the rest of the grist In sweat and in dust having wasted the day They enter'd upon the last act of the play The Bride to her bed was convey'd Where knee deep each hand fell downe to the ground And in seeking the Garter much pleasure was found 'T would have made a man's arm have stray'd This clutter ore Clarinda lay Half bedded like the peeping day Behind Olimpus cap Whiles at her head each twittring Girle The fatal stocking quick did whirle To know the lucky hap The Bridegroom in at last did rustle All dissap-pointed in the bustle The Maidens had shav'd his breeches But let him not complain t is well In such a storm I can you tell He save'd his other stitches And now he bounc'd into the bed Even just as if a man had said Fair Lady have at all Where twisted at the hug they lay Like Venus and the sprightly Boy O who would fear the fall Thus both with love's sweet tapers fired And thousand balmy kisses tyred They could nor wait the rest But out the folk and candles fled And to 't they went but what they did There lyes the cream of the jest On the much to be lamented Death of that gallant Antiquary and great Master both of Law and Learning John Selden Esquire Epicedium Elegiacum THus sets th' Olimpian Regent of the day Laden with honour after a full survey Of the deep works of nature to return With greater lustre from his watery urne Thus leans the aged Cedar to the rage Of tempests which the grove for many an age Hath grac'd yet yields to be traÌ„spaÌ„lted thence T' adorn the nobler Palace of his Prince Thus droops the world after a smiling May And June of pride into a withering day And hoary winter season to appear More lovely in the buds of a fresh year Then boast not Time in the eclipsed light Of Selden's lower orbes whiles the high flight Of his enthroned Soul looks down on thee With scorn as an ungrateful enemie For in his death thou sport'st with thy own dust Whiles with his ashes thy poor glories rust Mention no more thy Acts of old nor those Grand ruines rich in thy proud overthrowes In him th' hast lost thy Titles and thy name Who dyed the Register of time and fame He was that brave Recorder of the world When age mischief had conspir'd hurl'd Vast kingdoÌ„s into shatter'd heaps who could Redeem them from their vaults of dust and mould Then raise a monument of honour to That restor'd life which death could nere undoe Such was the fal of this Tenth worthy then This Magazine of earth and heaven and men He whereas others to their ashes creep Those common elements of all that sleep Dissolv'd like some huge Vatican from
slipp'd my soul But thanks dear Soveraign Thou pull'dst me safely down to thee again Had Thracian Orpheus with his feather'd Quire And Rendezvouz of brute bin present here The wondring Bard had suffer'd with the rest Winged amazement or at least turn'd beast So winningly did she dissolve the sense In thousand labyrinths of joy from whence The captiv'd soul could no more hope to see Releasment than time in eternitie But that that voyce exhaled it from its earth Proved merciful and gave it second birth With holy reverence let me dare to say Angels thus cloathe their Halelujah Thus Mercury to reach Jove's mayden prize Charm'd all the guards and rounds of Argus eyes Thus Philomel to drown the chirping wood Melts all her sugard forces to a floud Thus heaven's high consort bless'd the breaking day When the sweet Baby in a manger lay The Wisemen had they heard this sacred strain Had ventur'd to have offer'd once again Though neither spice nor myrrh What then I pray Even moping gravely to have loss'd their way For that great constellation of her light Had sunck their lanthorn star in endless night But yet how sweetly had they stray'd when shee Makes it no less than heaven where ere she be O had you seen how the small birds did creep And dance from bough to bough then stand and peep Through the green lattice of the trees to see The instrument of that rich harmonie And how the active grass there carpeted Contended which should first thrust up its head And wake th' enammel'd circle of the Bower To hasten forth each pretty drooping flower That in a radiant Coronet they might meet To weave gay buskins for Clarinda's feet T' would puzle a strong fancy here to prove Which did exceed their envy or their love But I shall range no further in dispute The way to speak her worth is to be mute For when that voyce clos'd her angelick song To paraphrase would prove a double wrong Platonique Love BEgon fantastick whimsey hence begon I slight thy dreams I 'me no Camelion Nor can I feed on Ayry smoaky blisses Or bayt my strong desire with smiles and kisses Old Tantalus as well may surfet on The flying streames by contemplation Give me a minute's heaven with my love Where I may roule in pleasures far above The idle fancy of the soul's embrace Where my swift hand may ravish all the grace Of beauties wardrop where the longing Bride May feast her fill yet nere be satisfied Blaspheme not Love with any other name Than an enjoyment kindled from the flame Of panting brests mix'd in a sweet desire Of somthing more than barely to admire ' Though sighs and signes may make the pulses beate ' Action 's the bellowes that preserve the heat If all content were placed in the eye And thoughts compriz'd the whole felicity Pictures might court each other exchange Their white-lime looks wo hard and yet seem strange ' No Love requires a quick and home embrace ' Nor can it dwell for ever on the face ' What ever glories Nature's tender care ' Compiles to make a piece divinely rare ' Th' are but the sweet allurements of the eye ' Fix'd on a stage to catch the standers by ' Or like rich Signes exposed to open sight 'To tempt the Traveller to stay all night Yield then my chast Clarinda once to see The sweet Maeander of Love's libertie And seale thy thoughts a grant to understand The welcome pleasures of a wife well mann'd For all the sweets mistaken in a kiss Are but the empty circumstance of this So shall a full content wipe out the score Of all our sorrows that have pasâ—'d before Not a sad sigh shall scape unsatisfied Which in its master's passion wept and dyed But like a Sea made subject to our Oares Wee 'le hoise up Saile and touch the wished Shoares A Sigh FLY thou pretty active part To the Mistris of my heart Shew her how the tedious night Sadly wastes without delight How my waking soule devides The silent day twixt ebbs and tides Of hope and feare How Love in mee Knows no measure or degree Tell her all my feigned dreames Of her enjoyment which in gleames Of wished bliss I seem'd to see But waking prov'd a fallacie Contriv'd by death to kill a Swain More than half already slain Tell her all my secret fears What a length's in seaven years And that my grief well understood Is worse by far than widdow-hood How to see and not partake Is but dying for her sake Tell her more than I dare say Yet can think as well as they That feel the freedom of that heat Which I in contemplation beat And let her know Love more delights In action than in appetites Tell her burial and a wife Untouched are both things without life And that too many heats and cold Will make the best complexion old And when poor beauty 's past its prime The rest is but asleeping time Tell her all those heights and graces Which are built in female faces Like the Orbes without their motions Are but glorious pittyed notions And in short without deceit Love cannot for ever wait Pray her pray her quickly yield Venus joy's to loose the field And in fetter'd twines to lie Working through love's Misterie Where in thousand winding wayes She can twist the lover's maze Where with pleasing losse and pain Ladyes clip and to 't again Mixing fresh with flames half gone Joyes first felt then thought upon Tell her if she this deny Love only fed with ayre must dy Ask her whether groans and charms Mid-night walks and folded armes Be all she meant when first she slew My silly heart at second view And if a life be spent in wooing Where 's the time reserv'd for doing Now little sigh if she at last Chide and check thee with a cast Of angry looks like one that comes To kindle love in sullen Tombes Return to me my pretty dear And I will hide thee in a tear Love's Farewell FOnd Love adiew I loath thy tyranny Strive now no more to kill me with an eye Or that we call Thy pastime but our thrall I see thy cruelty and moan the dayes My fetter'd heart lay doting on thy praise If an unconstant look be all the grace Attends the pleasure of thy wanton chase I 'me none of thine Nor will adore thy shrine I prize the freedom of a single hour More than the sugar'd tortures of thy power If floods of brinish tears be all thy drink And the whol man confined to gaze think If groans and sighs Be still thy sacrifice I 'le rather quench the flames of my desire Then at thine Altar languish and expire No I suppos'd thy guilded baytes to bee As reall blisses as they seem'd to mee But now I finde They captivate the minde And slave the soul to endlesse proofs of joy Which in the end are pills but to destroy Wound me no more I 'me tyred with daily dying
Edmer's life With other choice which I not reckon here Least so the hidden embers I should stir Of rancor gone in some who measure test Not by their judgment but their interst Such as wit-bound themselves can faintly spare To stab with censures other choicest care Such suburb-wits their shackled judgments binde To reach the bark and dwell upon the rinde When 't was thy excellence to pursue the chase Till there was left to scruple no more place So long Alcides thought his work unsped As he to Hydra left or tayle or head Thy Plummet sinks into the depe stsound Still plunging onward till it finde the ground What worn inscriptions didst from dust relieve And from time's shipwrack didst restore to live Custom or Manners Ensigne Form or Rite What is 't thy teeming brain not brought to light Now thou hast travell'd through the world 's wide coast And left no creek nor path nor Seas uncrost And nature's utmost boundaries hast known T was time thou tookst the period of â—hine own That so thy wakeful soul dismantled hence Might meet fresh objects for Intelligence The Grecian Heroe thus when he went through As far as bounds wish'd he had more to doe So through feirce seas the angry keel is hurl'd To look out passage to another world J. V. M. A. J. C. Oxon. Vpon the incomparable Learned John Selden T Were wrong to thy great name on thee to write Who like the Sun shines best with thy own light Clocks that are made to imitate the Sun Seldom run right and true in motion With heaven's great torch whose course is regular And tells us our best acts erroneous are Our praise when best impov'd is at this stay As our faint twilight's to the bright mid-day All we can speak comes so far short of thee As doth of nature our Philosophie In thine own sphear thrice glorious star then shine Sâ—nce all our light is but a beam from thine The spotless ray originally springs From the great mass of light more splendor brings Than when through ayre 's dark Medium it reflects Where not so pure a beam the sun projects So the first shade some glasses doe present More vigor hath than to the next is lent Thus Pictures from their excellence doe fal The further off from their Originall Vpon the death of John Selden PRaise that is worthy thee who would rehearse Must dare beyond the skill of art or verse T were sawciness here least flattery for to use Where to the nine the ayd of a tenth Muse Is all too little to proclaime thy worth Who art no comet blazing seldom forth But a new Star us mortals for to tell Thou wert from heaven sent a miracle Since then none may presume to reach thy fire We may be thought no trespassers to admire Thus when we view stars that are far above T is no crime such if not to catch to love Let others speak thy richness by whole sale Twill us suffice to mention by retayle T was but the least among thy lasting pains To purge our Laws from errors the stains That long had dwelt on them to wash away By Duried Fleta's resurrection day Time's ruind monuments records out of date And rolls which ages past expos'd to fate Thou with such wondrous artifice didst revive T was not recovery but new life didst give As if those caracters year'd to dust and death Hadst re-instated with new soul and breath And though on living men t is seldom seen That men contemporarie pass a due esteem But when the carkass is dissolv'd to dust Envy gives then what to the dead is just Yet was it said of Selden none beside That he was stamp'd authentick ere he dy'd For t is Truth 's voice at Bar when thou stoodsâ— Thy self was cited for Authority I want both pen and utterance to declare by How great a Master shin'st how singular In the deep insight of the Common Laws There 's n'one make scruple to give thee the Bayes And when ' midst throng of business did a rise Some sturdy doubts unfathom'd misteriâ—s Unto the Hive Statists would soon repair Who best of Statists didst deserve the chair Laws that were forreign were so much thy own They were not more unto their natives known Civil and Canon knew'st all Kingdoms ore Yea all that ages past did know before As if the Sun and thou tri'd Masterie Whether more Countries did or Kingdoms see Joynt tenants of the world for both have gone Thy daily circle both annual have run Phaebus aim'd not more secrecies to know Than our great Selden made his Title to More I could say the grandiure of your praise Swels like a torrent on nor can I raise A Mound against it Let this Eulogie Serve for inscription then that were each eye Turn'd to a Sun the round world to survey We should despair to finde Selden like thee Like Caesar's Amphitheatre never was Is an Hyperbole that Poets pass But we shall keep on modest bounds of fame To say like thee nere sprung there such a frame Degenerate Love and Choyce MAd Heretick forbear to say or swear That there is such a Meteor as love here T is true when Adam in that perfâ—ct state Of life first went on wooing for a Mate T was pure affection that his soul did catch And love conjoin'd with God made the best match Vertue not portion was the aim he sought For Eve had scarce a smock t' her back t is thought But when once Love and Adam were exil'd Eden Love soard to heaven and man grew wilde And as his knowledg and that nobler light He first received were musled up in night Then Avarice and ambition seiz'd the heart And faculties depraved in every part Hence 't was he tugg'd and travell'd to restore That bless'd eternity he lost before As though when he fell mortal God had hid The Tree of life in earth which he forbid Hence hence he grip'd at lands and moths And a large name deep written in that dust Thus the blinde sons of men as real heirs rust Of his corruptions drew their father's cares And guilt in with their first breath which sublime And are intens'd in the decayes of time Thus matches took the High Cross and of old That golden age became an age of gold Hagling relations did their issues joyn Not to make Good but to exalt the Line And horse-course of their children at a rate Ordain'd by them not by the hands of fate And therefore Phillip's Asse laden with Oar Shallsooner take Olynthe than of yore Those royal Macedonians whose high parts Lost their esteem against such sordid hearts If the fine thing with fancies ribboned And the gay tuft of feathers on his head That perfect emblem of its empty brain Come rumbling with a Coach dagled train Of snaphaÌ„ce-vouchers can just smack its haÌ„d And call to read the catalogue of his land Run hold keep For this this this is hee That storms takes
Ex otio Negotium OR MARTIALL HIS EPIGRAMS Translated With Sundry Poems and Fancies By R. Fletcher vivere Chartae Incipiant Cineri gloria sera venit Mar. lib. 1. Epig. 26. LONDON Printed by T. Mabb for William Shears and are to be sold at the Bible in Bedford street in Covent-garden 1656. M. VALERIUS MARSHAL Anno Aetatis suae 51. Ro Vaughan sculpsit To the Reader Courteous Reader I Here present thee with the scatterd Papers of my Youth which if they want that seriousness and solemn thoughts which become the ticklish stage of so catching a world let me beseech thy pardon had I sacrificed to thy view a volume beyond exception it had Anticipated thy Clemency and left thee no occasion to have exercised thy goodnesse But I am not of that number that dares Challenge the sharpe-sighted Censure of the times and conceive their Papers as their persons beyond fault or defection If I have not rendred the accute fancy of my most ingenious Author in its pure genuine dress as his own Pen hath deliverd him in ascribe the faile to my weakness not my will And for those abortive births slippd from my brain which can carry neither worth nor weight in the scale of this pregnant age so fraught and furnish'd with variety of gallant Pieces and performances of the choicest of writers give me leave to flurn at them as the poor excrescencies of Nature which rather blemish than adorn the structure of a well-composed body But least I tire thy patience with a tedious Apolligie like the Pulpit-cuffers of the age which breath their Audience at every accent either a sleep or out of doors I will no longer detain thee in the Porch and Preface of the Work If my looser minutes shall either please or profit thee I have my end If not I have my desire may I be thought worthy to be acknowledged Thy Friend and Servant R. Fletcher A Table of the Poems and Fancies in this Book THe Publipue Faith Page 129. A Lent on Lettany composed for a confiding Brother for the benefit and edification of the Faithfull Ones p. 131 The Second Part p. 135 A Hue and Cry after the Reformation p. 137 A Committee p. 138 On the happy Memmory of Alderman Hoyl that hang'd himself p. 141 On Clarinda Praying p. 142 On Clarinda Singing p. 145 Platonick Love p. 147 A Sigh p. 149 Love's Farewell p. 151 Christmass Day or the shuttle of an inspyred Weaver bolted against the Order of the Church for its Solemnitie p. 154 Good Fryday p. 156 Easter Day p. 157 Holy Thursday p. 159 Whitesunday p. 161 A short Ejaculation upon that truly worthy Patron of the Law Sr John Bridgman p. 164 Obsequies on that right Reverend Father in God John Prideaux late Bishop of Worcester p. 166 On the death of his Royall Majesty Charls late King of England p. 171 An Epitaph on the same p. 173 A Survey of the World p. 174 An Old Man Courting a Young Girle p. 177 An Epitaph on his deceased Friend p. 182 Mount Ida or beautie's Contest p. 183 Vpon a Fly that flew into a Ladies eye and there lay buried in a Tear p. 185. Obsequies to the Memory of the truly Noble right Valiant and right Honourable Spencer Earl of Northampton Slain at Hopton Field in Staffordshire in the beginning of this Civill War p. 186 The London Lady p. 190 The Times p. 194 The Modell of the New Religion p. 202 Content p. 204 May-day p. 208 An Epigram to Doulas p. 211 An Epigram on the people of England p. 212 An Elegie upon my dear little Friend Mr. I. F. who dyed the same morning he was born Decm the 10. 1654. p. 213 A short Reflection on the Creation of the World p. 217. My Kingdom is not of this world p. 221 Come unto me all yee that labour and are heavy laden p. 222 A Sing-song on Clarinda's Wedding p. 226 On the much to be Lamented Death of that gallant Antiquarie and great Master both of Law and Learning John Selden Esquire p. 231 Vpon the Death of John Selden Esquire p. 235 Vpon the incomparable Learned John Selden p. 239 Vpon the Death of John Selden p. 240 Degenerate Love and Choice p. 242 A Dialogue between two water Nymphs Thamesis and Sabrina p. 247 To my honoured Friend Mr. T. C. that asked mâ— how I liked his Mistris being an old Widdow p. 254 The Engagement Stated p. 257 MARTIALL Lib. I. Epig. Ad Catonem WHen thou didst know the merry Feast Of jocund Flora was at best Our solemn sports how loosely free And debonair e the vulgar be Strict Cato why didst thou intrude Into the seated multitude Was it thy frolick here alone Only to enter and be gone Ad Lectorem Epig. 2. This whom thou readst is he by thee required Martiall through all the world fam'd and desired For sharpest Books of Epigrams on whom Ingenious Reader living without Tombe Thou hast bestow'd that high and glorious wreath Which seldome Poets after death receive Ad Librum suum Epig. 4. Among the Stationers th'hadst rather be My litle Book though my shelf's void for thee Alas thou knowst not Rome's disdain Great Mars his sons are of a pregnant brain Gybes no where are more free young men and old And Boyes their Nose up in derision hold Whiles thou shalt hear thy praise and kisses have Thou shalt be toss'd from th' bosome to the Grave But thou for fear thou feel'st thy Masters hand And thy loose sports should by his reed be scann'd Lascivious Book thou seek'st to mount abroad Go fly but home were yet thy safer road Ad Caesarem Epig. 5. If by chance Caesar thou take up my Books Lord of the world put by thy morning looks Thy greatest tryumphs have admitted mirth Nor need'st thou blush to give my fancy birth With what aspect thou smilest on Thymele Or mimicall Latinus read thou mee Innocent sports strict censure may peruse My life is modest though my lines be loose Ad Decianum Epig. 9. Because thou follow'st so in thy intents Great â—hrasea's and brave Cato's presidents That thou maist be secure nor runn'st thybrest Naked on drawn Swords in a frantick jest Decian thou dost what I would have thee do I like not him who to redeem or wo An empty fame by 's easie blood is rais'd Give me the man that lives and yet is prais'd De Gemello Maronilla Epig. 11. Gemellus seeks old Maronill to wed Desires it much is instant prayes and fees Is she so fair Nought's more ill favoured What then provokes O she doth cough and wheeze De Arria Paeto Epig. 14. When Arria to her Paeto gave the sword Which she in her own bowels first had gor'd Trust me quoth she that wound I made do'nt grieve But that doth Paetus which thou meanest to give Ad Julium 16. Epig. O thou to mee ' mongst my chiefe friends in mind Julius if antient faith and tyes ought bind The sixtith
man may See his God and live Here 's extasie of joy enough that when Our sins conspired with ungodly men To crucifie the Lord of life and kill His innocency by our doing ill He yet survives the gall of bitterness Nor was his soul forsaken in distress But having led Captivitie in chains He burst the bonds of death and lives and reigns And this revives our souls there 's yet agen A Monarchy beyond the reach of men Holy Thursday AS when the glorious Sun veil'd and disguis'd As by the shaddowes of the night surpris'd Disrobes his sable dress and reasumes The beauty of its splendor from the Tombes And vaults of darkness mounts the dapled skyes And guilds the heavenly wardrop as he flyes So here the Majesty of God conceal'd Under a mortal mantle unreveal'd Till the predestin'd day of its disclose Sublim'd its earth and in full lustre rose Joy'd with the shouts of Angels and the quire Of Cherubims made happyer to admire Me thinks I hear the arched sphears resound The Paeans of the Saints and give them round The tyres of heaven like claps of thunder rowl'd From pole to pole and doubled as they fould Such a diffusive glory that we see Each Saint triumphant in his victorie But is he gone for ever from our eyes Will he no more return shall we not rise Or must that cloud that closed him from our sight Stand a partition wal between the light Of his eternal day and our dull shades O that 's a horror kills as it invades No There 's a hope yet left a sure record Of mercy undenyable his Word Nay more his faithful Promise I 'le not leave You comfortless And can the Lord deceive See there his hand and seal And if you please Tâ—admit the voyce of Angels to encrease An Infant faith As you have seen him goe So he shall come again Believe it so Rejoyce then ô my soul that as thou art Rescued from death and glorified in part So thy Redeemer lives and that hee 's gone Hence to prepare thy heavenly mansion And when the trembling hearts of them that slew And peirct his pretious body quake to view The terror of his glorious return When time shall be no more the heavens burn Earth crumble into ashes and the dead Wak'd by th' Archangles voice dissepulcred And catchd up in the clouds thy greater bliss Shall meet thy sweet Redeemer with a kiss And with their eyes his glittering court survey In all the garb of that tryumphant day Yet so demean thy self in this his dear And pittied absence as if present here That at his second comming Sans all grudg He may return thy Saviour as thy Judge Whitsunday WHat strange noise strikes mine eare what suddain sound As though the rowling windes were all unbound And met at once by one joynt fury hurld To overturn the hinges of the world This Scaene fore runs some dreadfull Act to come Some greater wonder issuing from the womb Of Providence than what has pass'd our eye Sure there 's no second Son of God to dye Nor summons to the dead once more to rise And scare the bloudy City's Sacrifice Nor does the chearfull Sun dance through the sphears As though he meant to fetch his last carrears Time 's not so near its Exit nor the fall And conflagration of this circled Ball But yet behold a fire most contrary To its own nature posting from on high Kindling a sad suspition cleft in rayes As though design'd to catch all sorts of waies Sure t is no wanton flame such whifling Lights Quench with the night-mark of tempestuous nights Not daring to attempt the daye 's bright eye To judge their non-existent frippery No this descends more stayd reach'd from above ' O 't is the very God of peace and love But how so strange devided can there bee Twelve parts like Tribes couch'd in the dietie That it appears multipartite in th' dress Of Cloven Tongues what tongue can this express Yet though it seems in Sections to appear Most like the soul 'T is wholly every where The Spirit 's omnipresent nor can bee Confin'd to number measure or degree But why in fire and such myrac'lous flame Fix'd on a stay yet not consume the same Are men like Moses bush can bodyes burn Insensible and not to ashes turn The wonder 's great but not so deep as high ' Nature must needs leave work when God stands by Descend on me Great God! but in such fire May not consume but kindle my desire Descend on me in flames but such as move Winged by th' inspiration of the Dove Descend in Cloven Tongues such as dispence No double meanings in a single sense Hence all you wilde pretenders you that blaze Like Meteors lapp'd in zeal and dance the maze Of non-conformity in antique fits Yea even from your selves curss'd Hereticks Light not your frighted censors here no Quaker Frisker Baboon or Antinomian shaker Must fire his brand from hence the Spirit claims No holder-forth that dwells on second aimes But Comes t' reprove the worlds Judaick press Of Sin of Judgment and of Righteousness No strange fanatick spark that gaping flyes And leaves its Audience skared with extasies No Skipper in divinity no Hinter No radled Cardinal no dreaming minter Of words and faces no Quire of the Brisle No squib no squeaker of the puny grisle Approach this glory For the beauteous Sun Admits no maskers till the day be done No Chymical St. Martins pass the Test Till the pure Oare's exild or gone to rest Shine out bright God dispel these smoaky foggs Of schisme and heresie that smears and clogs The chariot of thy Gospell that truth may Break forth in its own glosse and proper ray That the Blue-apron'd Crackers of the times Those wilde-fire Rockets whose ambition climbes To wound the world with broils set all on fire And sink a glorious Church through base desire May dwindle to their bulks and there indite Long small-drink Anthems of the Saints good night While it contents the boyes to nod at last November and my Ld. Mayors day are past A short Ejaculation Vpon that truly worthy Patron of the Law Sr. John Bridgman Kt. and Lord Chief Justice of Chester and the Marshes of Wales deceased SHall all the Tribes of Israel thirty dayes Mourn for the death of Moses and so raise Their doubled cryes to heaven and bemoan The Light of Jacob in a Tomb unknown And Bridgman set obscurely can the Sun Withdraw its radiant splendor at high noon And the whole world not stand amaz'd to see Their glory swallow'd in eternitie Can the bright soul of Justice mount the skyes And we not fear a Deluge from our eyes Such was thy sad departure such thy flight Into the spangled heavens that the night Of a more sad dispaire hath seiz'd our beams And left us nothing but our brackish streams To offer at thy shrine And in those showers We state the day and steep the slow-pac'd hours Hence
let the Law be canoniz'd no better Than a meer corps of words a bare dead letter In thee the life departed In thy dust Lies raked the hand sense of right and just What yet survives or rather what presents It's seeming face cloath'd in thine ornaments 'T is but Elias Mantle though unknown Dropt to work wonder but the Prophet's gon Piae Memoriae Doctiss Reveren dissimique in Christo Patris Johannis Prideaux quam novissimè Wigoriae Episcopi harumque tristissimè lacrymarum Patroni nec nòn defuncti BVsta struant alii lacrymisque altare refundant Quorum tristitiâ fata pianda cadunt Talia praecurant cineres monumenta pusilli Queis melos tumulum fama gemenda petit Hîc neque pyramidum nec inertis monstra colossi Poscuntur subito corruitura die Gloria securi confidentissima Caeli Non vocat haec stellis astra minora suis Sic tuus ascendit currus dignâ—ssime Praesul Terreni miserans futile honoris onus Sed vae Zodiaco nostro vae Phaebe trementi Ortus enim patriae lux tenebraeque fuit In te floruimus tecum decerpimur omnes Et Pater gnati Mollitèr ossa cubent Parva tegaá¹…t tenues aperti funera fletus Tanta ruunt superis damna silenda metu Obsequies On that right Reverend Father in God John Prideaux late Bishop of Worcester deceased IF by the fall of Luminaries wee May safely ghuess the world's Catastrophe The signes are all fulfill'd the Tokens flown That scarce a man has any of his own Only the Jewes conversion some doubt bred But that 's confuted now the Doctor 's dead Great Atlas of Religion since thy fate Proclaims our loss too soon our tears too late Where shall the bleeding Church a Champion To grasp with Heresie Or to maintain Her conflict with the Devil For the ods gain Runs bias'd six to four against the Gods Hell lists amain nay and th' engagement flies With wing'd Zeal through all the Sectaries That should she soundly into question fall We were within a Vote of none at all But can this hap upon a single death Yes For thou wert the treasure of our breath That pious Arch whereon the building stood Which broke the whole's devolv'd into a floud An inundation that ore-bears the banks And bounds of all religion If some stancks Shew their emergent heads Like Setâ—'s famed stone Th' are monuments of thy devotion gone No wonder then the rambling Spirits stray In thee the body fell and slipp'd away Hence ' â—is the Pulpit swells with exhalations Intricate nonsense travel'd from all Nations Notions refined to doubts maxims squeez'd With tedious hick-ups till the sense growes freez'd If ought shall chance to drop we may call good T is thy distinction makes it understood Thy glorious Sun made ours a perfect day Our influence took its being from thy ray Thine was that Gedeon's fleece when all stood dry Pearl'd with caelestial dew showr'd from on high But now thy night is come our shades are spread And living here we move among the dead Perhaps an Ignis fatuus now and then Starts up in holes stincks and goes out agen Such Kicksee winsee flames shew but how dear Thy great Lighâ—'s resurrection would be here A Brother with five loaves and two smal fishes A table-book of sighs and looks and wishes Staâ—tles religion more at one strong doubt Than what they mean when as the candle 's But I profane thy ashes gratious soul Thy spirit flew too high to truss these foul out Gnostick opinions Thou desired'st to meet Such tenents that dust stand upon their feet And beard the Truth with as intens'd a zeal As Saints upon a fast night quilt a meal Rome never trembled till thy peircing eye Darted her through and crush'd the mysterie Thy Revelations made John's compleat Babylon fell indeed but 't was thy sweat And oyle perform'd the work to what we see Foretold in misty types broke forth in thee Some shallow lines were drawn and sconces made By smatterers in the Arts to drive a trade Of words between us but that proved no more Than threats in cowing feathers to give ore Thy fancy laid the Siedg that wrought her fall Thy batteries commanded round the wall Not a poor loop-hole error could sneak by No not the Abbess to the Friery Though her disguise as close and subtly good As when she wore the Monk's hose for a hood And if perhaps their French or Spanish wine Had fill'd them full of beads and Bellarmine That they durst salley or attempt a guard O! how thy busy brain would beat ward Rally and reinforce rout and relieve Double reserves And then an onset give Like marshall'd thunder back'd with flames of fire Storms mixt with storms Passion with globes of ire Yet so well disciplin'd that judgment still Sway'd and not rash Commissionated will No words in thee knew order time place The instant of a charge or when to face When to pursue advantage where to halt When to draw off and where to re-assault Such sure commands stream'd from thee that 't was one With thee to vanquish as to look upon So that thy ruin'd Foes groveling confesse Thy conquests were their fate and happinesse Nor was it all thy business here to war With forreign forces But thy active star Could course a home-bred mist a native sin And shew its guilt's degrees how wherein Then sentence and expel it Thus thy sun An everlastingstage in labour run So that its motion to the eye of man Waved still in a compleat Meridian But these aâ—e but fair comments of our loss The glory of a Chruch now on the Cross The transcript of that beauty once we had Whiles with the lustre of thy presence clad But thou art gone Brave Soul with thee all The gallantry of Arts Polemical Nothing remains as â—râ—mitive but talk And that our Priests again in Leather walk A Flying ministerie of horse and foot Things that can start a text but nere come to 't Teazers of doctrines which in long-fleev'd prose Run down a Sermon all upon the nose These like dull glow-worms twinckle in the night The frighted Land-skips of an absent light But thy rich flame 's withdrawn heaven caught thee hence Thy glories were grown ripe for recompence And therefore to prevent our weak essaies Th' art crown'd an Angel with caelestiâ—l Bayes And there thy ravish'd Soul meets field and fire Beauties enough to fill its strong desire The contemplation of a present God Perfections in the womb the very road And Essensies of vertues as they bee Streming and mixing in Eternitie Whiles we possess our souls â—ut in a veyle Live earth confined catch heaven by retaile Such a dark-lanthorn age such jealous dayes Men tread on Snakes sleep in Bataliaes Walk like Confessors hear but must not say What â— bold world dares act and what it may Yet here all votes Commons and Lords agree The Crosier fell in Laud the Church in
thee On the death of his Royall Majesty Charles late King of England c. WHat went you out to see a dying King Nay more I fear an Angel suffering But what went you to see A Prophet slain Nay that and more a martyrd Soveraign Peace to that sacred dust Great Sir our fears Have left us nothing but obedient tears To court your hearse in those pious flouds We live the poor remainder of our goods Accept us in these later obsequies The unplundred riches of our hearts and eyes For in these faithful streams and emanations W' are subjects still beyond all Sequestrations Here we cry more than Conquerours malice Murder estates but hearts will still obey These as your glory 's yet above the reach may Of such whose purple lines confusion preach And now Dear Sir vouchsafe us to admire With envey your arrival and that Quire Of Cherubims and Angels that supply'd Our duties at your tryumphs where you ride With full caelestial Iôes and Ovations Rich as the conquest of three ruin'd Nations But 't was the heavenly plot that snath d you hence To crown your soul with that magnificence And bounden rights of honor that poor earth Could only wish and strangle in the birth Such pitied emulation stop'd the blush Of our ambitious shame non-suited us For where souls act beyond mortallity Heaven only can performe that Jubilee We wrastle then no more but bless your day And mourn the anguish of our sad delay That since we cannot add we yet stay here Fettred in clay Yet longing to appear Spectators of your bliss that being shown Once more you may embrace us as your own Where never envy shall devide us more Nor Citty tumults nor the worlds uproar But an eternal hush a quiet peace As without end so still in the increase Shall lull humanity a sleep and bring Us equal subjects to the heavenly King Till when I 'le turn Recusant and forswear All Calvin for there 's Purgatory here An Epitaph STay Passenger Behold and see The widdowed grave of Majestie Why tremblest thou Here 's that will make Alâ— but our stupid souls to shake Here lies entomb'd the sacred dust Of Peace and Piety Right and Just The bloud O startest not thou to hear Of a King 'twixt hope and fear Shedd and hurried hence to bee The miracle of miserie Add the ills that Rome can boast Shrift the world in every coast Mix the fire of earth and seas With humane spleen and practises To puny the records of time By one grand Gygantick crime Then swell it bigger till it squeeze The globe to crooked hams and knees Here 's that shall make it seem to bee But modest Christianitie The Lawgiver amongst his own Sentenc'd by a Law unknown Voted Monarchy to death By the course Plebeian breath The Soveraign of all command Suff'ring by a Common hand A Prince to make the oâ—ium more Offer'd at his very door The head cut off ô death to see 't In obedience to the feet And that by Justice you must know If you have faith to think it so Wee 'le stir no further then this sacred Clay But let it slumber till the Judgment day Of all the Kings on earth 't is not denyed Here lies the first that for Religion died A Survey of the World THe World 's a guilded trifle and the state Of sublunary bliss adulterate Fame but an empty sound a painted noise A wonder that nere looks beyond nine dayes Honour the tennis-ball of fortune Though Men wade to it in bloud and overthrow Which like a box of dice uneven dance Sometimes 't is one 's somtimes another's chance Wealth but the hugg'd consumption of that heart That travailes Sea Land for his own smart Pleasure a courtly madness a conceipt That smiles and tickles without worth or weight Whose scatter'd reck'ning when 't is to be paid Is but repentance lavishly in-layd The world fame honour wealth pleasure then Are the fair wrack and Gemonies of men Ask but thy Carnall heart if thou shouldst bee Sole Monarch of the worlds great familie If with the Macedonian Youth there would Not be a corner still reserv'd that could Another earth contain If so What is That poor insatiate thing she may call bliss Question the loaden Gallantry asleep What profit now their Lawrels in the deep Of death's oblivion What their Triumph was More than the moment it did prance pass If then applause move by the vulgar crye Fame 's but a glorious uncertainty Awake Sejanus Strafford Buckingham Charge the fond favourites of greatest name What faith is in a Prince's smile what joy In th' high Grand Concilio le Roy Nay Caesar's self that march'd his Honour s through The bowels of all Kingdoms made them bow Low to the stirrop of his will and vote What safety to their Master's life they brought When in the Senate in his highest pride By two and thirty wounds he fell and dyed If Height be then most subjected to fate Honour 's the day-spring of a greater hate Now ask the Grov'ling soul that makes his gold His Idol his Diana what a cold Account of happiness can here arise From that ingluvious surfet of his eys How the whole man 's inslaved to a lean dearth Of all enjoyment for a little earth How like Prometheus he doth still repair His growing heart to feed the Vultur care Or like a Spider's envious designes Drawing the threds of death from her own loines Tort'ring his entrails with thoughts of to morrow To keep that masse with grief he gain'd with sorrow If to the clincking pastime in his ears He add the Orphanes cries and widdows tears The musick 's far from sweet and if you sound him Truly they leave him sadder than they found him Now touch the Dallying Gallant he that lyes Angling for babies in his Mistris eyes Thinks there 's no heaven like a bale of dyce Six Horses and a Coach with a device A cast of Lacquyes and a Lady-bird An Oath in fashion and a guilded Sword Can smoak Tobacco with a face in frame And speak perhaps a line of sense to th' same Can sleep a Sabboath over in his bed Or if his play book 's there will stoop to read Can kiss its hand and congey a la mode And when the night's approaching bolt abroad Unless his Honour's worship's rent's not come So he fals sick and swears the Carrier home Else if his rare devotion swell so high To waste an hour-glasse on divinity T is but to make the church his stage thereby To blaze the Taylor in his ribaldry Ask but the Jay when his distress shall fall Like an arm'd man upon him where are all The rose-buds of his youth those atick toyes Wherein hee sported out his pretious dayes What comfort he collects from Hawk or Hound Or if amongst his looser hours he found One of a thousand to redeem that time Perish'd and lost for ever in his prime Or if he dream'd of an