faire to shine Then looke and pittie pittying forgiue Vs guiltie Slaues or Seruants at thy Will Slaues if alas thou look'st how wee doe liue â—…r doing nought at all or doing ill Of an vngratefull Minde a foule Effect But if thy Gifts which largely heretofore Thou hast vpon vs powr'd thou doest respect VVee bee thy Seruants nay than Seruants more Thy Children yes and Children dearly bought But what strange Chance vs of this Lot bereaues Vile Rebells ô how basely are wee brought VVhom Grace made Children Sinne hath now made Slaues Sinne Slaues hath made but let thy Grace Sinne thrall That in our Wrongs thy mercie may appeare Thy Wisdome not so weake is Pow'r so small But thousand Wayes they can make Men thee feare O Wisdome bound-lesse admirable Grace Grace Wisdome which doe dazell Reasons Eye And could Heauens King bring from his placelesse Place On this infamous Stage of Woe to die To die our Death and with the sacred Streame Of Bloud and Water gushing from his Side To expiate that Sinne and deadly Blame Contriued first by our First Parents Pride Thus thy great Loue and Pittie heauenly King Loue Pittie which so well our Losse preuents Could euen of Euill it sâ—…lfe all Goodnesse bring And sad Beginnings cheare with glad Euents O Loue and Pittie ill knowne of these Times O Loue and Pittie carefull of our Blisse O Goodnesse with the hainous Actes and Crimes Of this blacke Age that almost vanquish'd is Make this excessiue ardour of thy Loue So warme our Coldnesse so our Liues renew That wee from Sinne Sinne may from vs remoue Wit may our Will Faith may our Wit subdue Let thy pâ—…re Loue burne vp all mortall Lust That Band of Ills which thralles our better Part And fondly makes vs worship fleshly Dust In stead of Thee in Temple of our Heart Grant when at last the Spright shall leaue this Tombe This loathsome Shop of Sinne and Mansion blinde And call d before thy Royall Seat doth come It may a Sauiour not a Iudge thee finde To the Author THe sister Nymphes who haunt the Thespian Springs Ne're did their Gifts more liberally bequeath To them who on their Hills suck'd sacred Breath Than vnto thee by which thou sweetly sings Ne're did Apollo raise on Pegase Wings A Muse more neare himselfe more farre from Earth Than thine if Shee doe weepe thy Ladies Death Or sing those sweet-sowre Panges which Passion brings To write our Thoughts in Verse doth merite Praise But those our Verse to gild in Fictions Ore Bright rich delightfull doth deserue much more As thou hast done these thy delicious Layes Thy Muses Morning doubtlesse doth bewray The neare Approach of a more glistring Day D. Murray MADRIGALLS AND Epigrammes BY W. D. MADRIGALS AND EPIGRAMMES The Statue of MEDVSA OF that MEDVSA strange Who those that did her see in Rockes did change None Image caru'd is this MEDVSAS selfe it is For whilst at Heat of Day To quench her Thirst Shee by this Spring did stay Her curling Snakes beholding in this Glasse Life did Her leaue and thus transform'd Shee was The Trojane Horse AHorse I am whom Bit Raine Rod â—…or Spurre not feare VVhen I my Riders beare VVithin my Wombe not on my Backe they sit No Streames I drinke nor care for Grasse nor Corne Arte mee a Monster wrought All Natures Workes to scorne A Mother I was without Mother borne In End all arm'd my Father I forth brought VVhat thousand Ships and Champions of Renowne Could not doe free I captiue raz'd a Towne A Louers Heauen THose Starres nay Sunnes which turne So stately in their Spheares And daz'ling doe not burne The beautie of the Morne VVhich on those Cheekes appeares The Harmonie which to that Voyce is giuen Make mee thinke yee are Heauen If Heauen yee bee ô that by pow'rfull Charmes I Atlas were to holde you in mine Armes Deepe Impression of Loue. WHom raging Dog doth bite Hee doth in Water still That Cerberus Image see Loue Mad perhaps when he my Heart did smite More to dissemble Ill Transform'd himselfe in thee For euer since thou present art to mee No Spring there is no Floud nor other Place Where I alas not see thy heauenly Face The Pourtrait of MARS and VENVS FAire PAPHOS wanton Queene Not drawne in White and Red Is truely heere as when in VVLCANS Bed She was of all Heauens laughing Senate seene Gaze on her Haire and Eine Her Browes the Bowes of Loue Her backe with Lillies spred And yee should see her turne and sweetly moue But that Shee neither so will doe nor darre For feare to wake the angrie God of Warre IÖLAS Epitaph HEre deare Iölas lies Who whilst hee liu'd in Beautie did surpasse That Boy whose heauenly Eyes Brought Cypris from aboue Or him till Death who look'd in watrie Glasse Euen Iudge the God of Loue And if the Nymphe once held of him so deare Dorine the faire would heere but shed one Teare Thou shouldst in Natures Scorne A purple Flowre see of this Marble borne Vpon the Death of a LINNET IF cruell Death had Eares Or could bee pleas'd by Songs This wing'd Musician liu'd had many yeares And Chloris mine had neuer wept these Wrongs For when it first tooke Breath The Heauens their Notes did vnto it bequeath And if that Samians sentence bee found true Amphion in this Body liu'd of new But Death for that hee nothing spares nought heares As hee doth Kings it kill'd ô Griefe ô Teares ALCONS Kisse WHat others at their Eare Two Pearles Camilla at her Nose did weare Which Alcon who nought saw For Loue is blinde robb'd with a prettie Kisse But hauing knowne his Misse And felt what Ore hee from that Mine did draw When shee to charge againe him did desire Hee fled and said foule Water quenched Fire ICARVS WHilst with audacious Wings I sprang those airie Wayes And fill'd a Monster new with Dread and Feares The feathred People and their Eagle Kings Dazel'd with Phoebus Rayes And charmed with the Musicke of the Spheares VVhen Pennes could moue no more and Force did faile I measur'd by a Fall these loftie Bounds Yet doth Renowne my Losses counteruaile For still the Shore my braue Attempt resounds A Sea an Element doth beare my Name VVho hath so vaste a Tombe in Place or Fame Cherries MY Wanton weepe no more The â—…osing of your Cherries Those and farre sweeter Berries Your Sister in good store Hath spred on Lips and Face Be glad kisse but with me and hold your peace Of THAVMANTIA beholding her selfe in a Marble WOrld wonder not that I Engraue thus in my Brest This Angell Face which mee bereaues of Rest Since things euen wanting Sense cannot denie To lodge so deare a Guest And this hard Marble Stone Receiues the same and Ioues but cannot grone Loue suffereth no Parasol THose Eyes deare Eyes bee Spheares VVhere two bright Sunnes are roll'd That faire Hand to behold Of whitest Snowe appeares Then while yee coylie stand To hide
curious Phidias Master Most smooth most white a piece of Alabaster Two foaming Billowes flow'd vpon her Brest VVhich did their tops with Corrall red encrest There all about as Brookes them sport at leasure VVith Circling Branches veines did swell in Azure VVithin those Crookes are only found those Isles VVhich Fortunate the dreaming old World Stiles The rest the Streames did hide but as a Lillie Suncke in a Christalls faire transparent Bellie I who yet humane weaknesse did not know For yet I had not felt that Archers Bow Ne could I thinke that from the coldest Water The winged Youngling burning Flames could scatter On euery part my vagabounding Sight Did cast and drowne mine Eyes in sweet Delight What wondrous Thing is this that Beautie 's named Said I I finde I heretofore haue dreamed And neuer knowne in all my flying Dayes Good vnto this that only merites Praise My Pleasures haue beene Paines my Comforts Crosses My Treasure Pouertie my Gaines but Losses O precious Sight which none doth els descrie Except the burning Sunne and quiuering I. And yet O deare bought Sight O would for euer I might enioy you or had ioy'd you neuer O happie Floud if so yee might abide Yet euer glorie of this Moments Pride Adjure your Rillets all now to beholde Her And in their Christall Armes to come and fold Her And sith yee may not ay your Blisse embrace Draw thousand Pourtraits of Her on your Face Pourtraits which in my Heart be more apparent If like to yours my Brest but were transparent O that I were while she doth in you play A Daulphine to transport Her to the Sea To none of all those Gods I would Her rander From Thule to Inde though I should with Her wander Oh! what is this the more I fixe mine Eye Mine Eye the more new Wonders doth espie The more I spie the more in vncouth fashion My Soule is rauish'd in a pleasant Passion But looke not Eyes as more I would haue said A Sound of whirling Wheeles me all dismayde And with the Sound foorth from the timorous Bushes With storme-like Course a sumptuous Chariot rushes A Chariot all of Gold the Wheeles were Gold The Nailes and Axetree Gold on which it roll'd The vpmost Part a Scarlet Vaile did couer More rich than Danaes Lap spred with her Louer In midst of it in a triumphing Chaire A Ladie sate miraculously faire Whose pensiue Countenance and Lookes of Honor Doe more allure the Mind that thinketh on Her Than the most wanton Face and amorous Eyes That Amathus or flowrie Paphos sees A Crue of Virgins made a Ring about Her The Diamond shee they seeme the Gold without Her Such Thetis is when to the Billowes rore With Mcrmaids nyce shee danceth on the Shore So in a sable Night the Sunnes bright Sister Among the lesser twinckling Lights doth glister Faire Yoakes of Ermelines whose Colour passe The whitest Sâ—…owes on aged Grampius Face More swift than Venus Bâ—…rds this Chariot guided To the astonish'd Bancke where as it bided But long it did not bide when poore those Streames Aye me it made transporting those rich Gemmes And by that Burthen lighter swiftly driued Till as me thought it at a Towre arriued Vpon a Rocke of Christall shining cleare Of Diamonds this Castle did appeare Whose rising Spires of Gold so high them reared That Atlas like it seem'd the Heauen they beared Amidst which Hights on Arches did arise Arches which guilt Flames brandish to the Skies Of sparking Topaces Prowde Gorgeous Ample Like to a litle Heauen a sacred Temple VVhose Walls no Windowes haue nay all the Wall Is but one Window Night there doth not fall More when the Sunne to Westerne World declineth Than in our Zenith when at Noone He shineth Two flaming Hills the Passage strait defend Which to this radiant Building doth ascend Vpon whose Arching tops on a Pilastre A Port stands open rais'd in Loues Disastre For none that narrow Bridge and Gate can passe VVho haue their Faces seene in Venus Glasse If those within but to come foorth doe venter That stately Place againe they neuer enter The Precinct strengthened with a Ditch appeares In which doth swell a Lake of Inkie Teares Of madding Louers who abide there moning And thicken euen the Aire with piteous Groning This Hold to braue the Skies the Destines fram'd The World the Fort of Chastitie it nam'd The Queene of the third Heauen once to appall it The God of Thrace here brought who could not thrall it For which he vow'd ne're Armes more to put on And on Riphean Hills was heard to grone Here Psyches Louer hurles his Darts at randon Which all for nought him serue as doth his Brandon VVhat bitter Anguish did inuade my Minde VVhen in that Place my Hope I saw confinde VVhere with high-towring Thoughts Ionely reacht Her VVhich did burne vp their Wings when they approacht Her Mee thought I set me by a Cypresse Shade And Night and Day the Hyacinthe there reade And that bewaâ—…ling Nightingalles did borrow Plaints of my Plaint and Sorrowes of my Sorrow My Food was Wâ—…rmewood mine owne Teares my Drinke My Rest on Death and sad Mishaps to thinke And for such Thoughts to haue my Heart enlarged And ease mine Eyes â—…ith brinie Tribute charged Ouer a Brooke me thought my pining Face I laid which then as grieu'd at my Disgrace A Face Me shew'd againe so ouer-clouded That at the Sight mine Eyes afray'd them shrowded This is the guerdon Loue this is the Gaine In end which to thy Seruants doth remaine I would haue said when Feare made Sleepe to leaue me And of those fatall Shadowes did bereaue me But ah alas in stead to dreame of Loue And Woes mee made them in effect to proue For what into my troubled Braine was painted I waking found that Time and Place presented SON AH burning Thoughts now let me take some Rest And your tumultuous Broyles a while appease Is 't not enough Starres Fortune Loue molest Me all at once but yee must to displease Let Hope though false yet lodge within my Brest My high Attempt though dangerous yet praise What though I trace not right Heauens steppie Wayes It doth suffice my Fall shall make me blest I doe not doate on Dayes nor feare not Death So that my Life be braue what though not long Let me Renown'd liue from the vulgare Throng And when yee list Heauens take this borrowed Breath Men but like Visions are Time all doth claime He liues who dies to winne a lasting Name MADRIGALL ADEDALE of my Death Now I resemble that subtile Worme on Earth VVhich prone to its owne euill can take no rest For with strange Thoughts possest I feede on fading Leaues Of Hope which me deceaues And thousand Webs doth warpe within my Brest And thus in end vnto my selfe I weaue A fast-shut Prison no but euen a Graue SEXTAIN THe Heauen doth not containe so many Starres So many Leaues not prostrate lie in Woods VVhen Autumne's old
the Meads the Woods the Flouds are faire Faire looketh Ceres with her yellow Haire And Apples Queene when Rose-cheekt Shee doth smile That Heauen and Earth and Seas are faire is true Yet true that all not please so much as you MAD. WHen as shee smiles I finde More light before mine Eyes Nor when the Sunne from Inde Brings to our World a flowrie Paradise But when shee gently weepes And powres foorth pearlie Showres On Checkes faire blushing Flowres A sweet Melancholie my Senses keepes Both feede so my Disease So much both doe me please That oft I doubt which more my Heart doth burne Like Loue to see her smile or Pitie mourne SON SLide soft faire FORTH and make a christall Plaine Cut your white Lockes and on your foamie Face Let not a Wrinckle bee when you embrace The Boat that Earths Perfections doth containe Windes wonder and through wondring holde your Peace Or if that yee your Hearts cannot restraine From sending Sighes mou'd by a Louers Case Sigh and in her faire Haire your selues enchaine Or take these Sighes which Absence makes arise From mine oppressed Brest and waue the Sailes Or some sweet Breath new brought from Paradise Flouds seeme to smile Loue o're the Winds preuailes And yet hudge Waues arise the Cause is this The Ocean striues with FORTH the Boate to kisse SON AH who can see those Fruites of Paradise Celestiall Cherries which so sweetly swell That Sweetnesse selfe confinde there seemes to dwell And all those sweetest Parts about despise Ah! who can see and feele no Flame surprise His hardened Heart for mee alas too well I know their Force and how they doe excell Now burne I through Desire now doe I freeze I die deare Life vnlesse to mee bee giuen As many Kisses as the Spring hath Flowrs Or as the siluer Drops of Iris Showrs Or as the Starres in all embracing Heauen And if displeas'd yee of the Match complaine Yee shall haue leaue to take them backe againe SON IS 't not enough aye mee mee thus to see Like some Heauen-banish'd Ghost still wailing goe A Shadow which your Rayes doe only show To vexe mee more vnlesse yee bid mee die What could yee worse allotte vnto your Foe But die will I so yee will not denie That Grace to mee which mortall Foes euen trie To chuse what sort of Death should ende my Woe One Time I found when as yee did mee kisse Yee gaue my panting Soule so sweet a Touch That halfe I sown'd in midst of all my Blisse I doe but craue my Deaths Wound may bee such For though by Griefe I die not and Annoy Is 't not enough to die through too much Ioy MAD. SWeete Rose whence is this Hue VVhich doth all Hues excell VVhence this most fragrant Smell And whence this Forme and gracing Grace in you In flowrie Paestums Field perhaps yee grew Or Hyblas Hills you bred Or odoriferous Ennas Plaines you fed Or Tmolus or where Bore yong Adon slew Or hath the Queene of Loue you dy'd of new In that deare Bloud which makes you looke so red No none of those but Cause more high you blist My Ladies Brest you bare and Lips you kist SON SHee whose faire flowrs no Autumne makes decay Whose Hue celestiall earthly Hues doth staine Into a pleasant odoriferous Plaine Did walke alone to braue the P◅ide of Maye And whilst through chekred Lists shee made her Way Which smil'd about her Sight to entertaine Loe vnawares where Loue did hid remaine Shee spide and sought to make of him her Prey For which of golden Lockes a fairest Haire To binde the Boy shee tooke But hee afraid At her Approach sprang swiftly in the Aire And mounting ◅arre from Reach look'd backe and said Why shouldst thou Sweet me seeke in Chaines to binde Sith in thine Eyes I dayly am confinde MAD. ON this colde World of Ours Flowre of the Seasons Season of the Flowrs Sonne of the Sunne sweet Spring Such hote and burning Dayes why doest th◅u bring Is this for that those high Eternall Pow'rs Flash downe that Fire this All enuironing Or that now Phoebus keepes his Sisters Spheare Or doth some Phaēton Enflame the Sea and Aire Or rather is it Vsher of the Yeare For that last Day amongst thy Flowrs alone Vnmask'd thou saw'st my Faire And whilst thou on her gaz'd shee did thee burne And in thy Brother Summer doth thee turne SON DEare Wood and you sweet solitarie Place Where from the vulgare I estranged liue Contented more with what your Shades mee giue Than if I had what Thetis doth embrace What snakie Eye growne iealous of my Peace Now from your silent Horrours would mee driue When Sunne progressing in his glorious Race Beyond the Twinnes doth neare our Pole arriue What sweet Delight a quiet Life affords And what it is to bee of Bondage free Farre from the madding Worldlings hoarse Discords Sweet flowrie Place I first did learne of thee Ah! if I were mine owne your deare Resorts I would not change with Princes stately Courts SEXTAIN SIth gone is my Delight and only Pleasure The last of all my Hopes the chearfull Sunne That clear'd my Lifes darke Day Natures sweet Treasure More deare to mee than all beneath the Moone VVhat resteth now but that vpon this Mountaine I weepe till Heauen transforme mee in a Fountaine Fresh faire delicious christall pearlie Fountaine On whose smoothe Face to looke shee oft tooke Pleasure Tell mee so may thy Streames long cheare this Mountaine So Serpent ne're thee staine nor scorch the Sunne So may with gentle Beames thee kisse the Moone Doest thou not mourne to want so faire a Treasure VVhile shee her glass'd in thee rich TAGVS Treasure Thou enuie needed not nor yet the Fountaine In which that Hunter saw the naked Moone Absence hath robb'd thee of thy Wealth and Pleasure And I remaine like Marigold of Sunne Depriu'd that dies by Shadow of some Mountaine Nymphes of the Forrests Nymphes who on this Mountaine Are wont to dance shewing your Beauties Treasure To Goate-feete Syluans and the wondring Sunne VVhen as you gather Flowres about this Fountaine Bid Her Farewell who placed here her Pleasure And sing her Praises to the Starres and Moone Among the lesser Lights as is the Moone Blushing through Scarfe of Clouds on LATMOS Mountaine Or when her siluer Lockes shee lookes for Pleasure In Thetis Streames prowde of so gay a Treasure Such was my Faire when Shee sate by this Fountaine With other Nymphes to shunne the amorous Sunne As is our Earth in Absence of the Sunne Or when of Sunne depriued is the Moone As is without a verdant Shade a Fountaine Or wanting Grasse a Mead a Vale a Mountaine Such is my State bereft of my deare Treasure To know whose only Worth was all my Pleasure Ne're thinke of Pleasure Heart Eyes shunne the Sunne Teares be your Treasure which the wandring Moone Shall see you shed by Mountaine Vale and Fountaine SON THou Window once which serued for a
Spheare To that deare Planet of my Heart whose Light Made often blush the glorious Queene of Night While Shee in thee more beautious did appeare What mourning Weedes alas now do'st thou weare How loathsome to mine Eyes is thy sad Sight How poorely look'st thou with what heauie cheare Since that Sunne set which made thee shine so bright Vnhappie now thee close for as of late To wondring Eyes thou wast a Paradise Bereft of Her who made thee fortunate A Gulfe thou art whence Cloudes of Sighes arise But vnto none so noysome as to mee Who hourly see my murth'red Ioyes in thee SON ARe these the flowrie Bankes is this the Mead Where Shee was wont to passe the pleasant hours Did here her Eyes exhale mine Eyes salt Showrs When on her Lap I laide my wearie Head Is this the goodly Elme did vs o'respread Whose tender Rine cut out in curious Flowrs By that white Hand containâ—…s those Flames of Ours Is this the rusling Spring vs Musicke made Deflourish'd Mead where is your heauenly Hue Banke where that Arras did you late adorne How looke yee Elme all withered and forlorne Onely sweet Spring nought altered seemes in you But while here chang'd each other thing appeares To sowre your Streames take of mine Eyes these Teares SON ALexis here shee stay'd among these Pines Sweet Hermitresse shee did alone repaire Here did shee spreade the Treasure of her Haire More rich than that brought from the Colchian Mines Shee set Her by these musket Eglantines The happie Place the Print seemes yet to beare Her Voyce did sweeten here thy sugred Lines To which Winds Trees Beasts Birds did lend their Eare. Mee here shee first perceiu'd and here a Morne Of bright Carnations did o'respreade her Face Here did shee sigh here first my Hopes were borne And I first got a Pledge of promis'd Grace But ah what seru'd it to bee happie so Sith passed Pleasures double but new Woe SON O Night cleare Night O darke and gloomie Day O wofull Waking O Soule-pleasing Sleepe O sweet Conceits which in my Braines did creepe Yet sowre Conceits which went so soone away A Sleepe I had more than poore Words can say For clos'd in Armes mee thought I did thee keepe A sorie Wretch plung'd in Mis-fortunes deepe Am I not wak'd when Light doth Lies bewray O that that Night had euer still bene blacke O that that Day had neuer yet begunne And you mine Eyes would yee no time saw Sunne To haue your Sunne in such a Zodiacke Loe what is good of Life is but a Dreame When Sorrow is a neuer-ebbing Streame SON HAire precious Haire which Midas Hand did straine Part of the Wreathe of Gold that crownes those Browes Which Winters whitest White in Whitenesse staine And Lillie by Eridians Banke that growes Haire fatall Present which first caus'd my Woes When loose yee hang like Danaës golden Raine Sweet Nettes which sweetly doe all Hearts enchaine Strings deadly Strings with which Loue bends his Bowes How are yee hither come tell me O Haire Deare Armelet for what thus were yee giuen I know a Badge of Bondage I you weare Yet Haire for you ô that I were a Heauen Like Berenices Locke that yee might shine But brighter farre about this Arme of mine MAD. VNhappie Light Doe not approach to bring the wofull Day When I must bid for ay Farewell to Her and liue in endlesse Plight Faire Moone with gentle Beames The Sight who neuer marres Long cleare Heauens sable Vault and you bright Starres Your golden Lockes long glasse in Earths pure Streames Let Phoebus neuer rise To dimme your watchfull Eyes Prolong alas prolong my short Delight And if yee can make an eternall Night SON WIth Griefe in Heart and Teares in sowning Eyes When I to Her had giu'n a sad Fare-well Close sealed with a Kisse and Dew which fell On my else-moystned Face from Beauties Skies So strange Amazement did my Minde surprise That at each Pace I fainting turn'd againe Like One whome a Torpedo stupifies Not feeling Honours Bit nor Reasons Raine But when fierce Starres to parte mee did constraine With backe-cast Lookes I â—…nui'd both and bless'd The happie Walles and Place did Her containe Till that Sights Shafts their flying Obiect miss'd So wailing parted Ganamede the faire When Eagles Talents bare him through the Aire MAD. I Feare not hencefoorth Death Sith after this Departure yet I breath Let Rocks and Seas and Wind Their highest Treasons show Let Skie and Earth combinde Striue if they can to ende my Life and Woe Sith Griefe can not mee nothing can o'rethrow Or if that ought can cause my fatall Lot It will bee when I heare I am forgot SON HOw many times Nights silent Queene her Face Hath hid how oft with Starres in siluer Maske In Heauens great Hall shee hath begunne her Taske And chear'd the waking Eye in lower Place How oft the Sunne hath made by Heauens swift Race The happie Louer to forsake the Brest Of his deare Ladie wishing in the West His golden Coach to runne had larger Space I euer count and number â—…ince alas I bade Farewell to my Heaâ—…ts dearest Guest The Miles I compasse and in Minde I chase The Flouds and Mountaines holde mee from my Rest But woe is mee long count and count may I Ere I see Her whose Absence makes mee die SON SO grieuous is my Paine so painefull Life That oft I finde mee in the Armes of Death But Breath halfe gone that Tyrant called Death Who others killes restoreth mee to Life For while I thinke how Woe shall ende with Life And that I quiet Peace shall ioye by Death That Thought euen doth o'repowre the Paines of Death And call mee home againe to lothed Life Thus doth mine euill transcend both Life and Death While no Death is so bad as is my Life Nor no Life such which doth not ende by Death And Protean Changes turne my Death and Life O happie those who in their Birth finde Death Sith but to languish Heauen affordeth Life SON FAme who with golden Pennes abroad dost range Where Phoebus leaues the Night and brings the Day Fame in one Place who restlesse dost not stay Till thou hast flowne from Atlas vnto Gange Fame Enemie to Time that still doth change And in his changing Course would make decay What here below he findeth in his Way Euen making Vertue to her selfe looke strange Daughter of Heauen Now all thy Trumpets sound Raise vp thy Head vnto the highest Skie With Wonder blaze the Gifts in Her are found And when shee from this mortall Globe shall flie In thy wide Mouth keepe long long keepe her Name So thou by Her shee by thee liue shall Fame MAD. THe Iuorie Corrall Gold Of Brest of Lips of Haire So liuely Sleepe doth show to inward Sight That wake I thinke I hold No Shadow but my Faire My selfe so to deceaue With long-shut Eyes I shunne the irkesome Light Such Pleasure thus I haue Delighting in false Gleames If
azure Lists beginst thy Race Thou shin'st not to the Dead in any Place And I dead from this World am gone away Or if I seeme a Shadow yet to stay It is a while but to bemone my Case My Mirth is lost my Comforts are dismay'd And vnto sad Mis-haps their Place doe yeeld My Knowledge doth resemble a bloudie field Where I my Hopes and Helps see prostrate layd So painefull is Lifes Course which I haue runne That I doe wish it neuer had begunne SONG SAd Damon beeing come To that for euer lamentable Tombe Which those eternall Powers that all controule Vnto his liuing Soule A melancholie Prison had prescriu'd Of Hue of Heate of Motion quite depriu'd In Armes wake trembling cold A Marble hee the Marble did infold And hauing made it warme with many a Showre VVhich dimmed Eyes did powre VVhen Griefe had giuen him leauâ—… and Sighes them stay'd Thus with a sad alas at last he said VVho would haue thought to mee The Place where thou didst lie could grieuous bee And that deare Body long thee hauing sought O mee who would haue thought Thee once to finde it should my Soule confound And giue my Heart than Death a deeper Wound Thou didst disdaine my Teares But grieue not that this ruethfull Stone them beares Mine Eyes serue only now for thee to weepe And let their Course them keepe Although thou neuer wouldst them Comfort show Doe not repine they haue Part of thy Woe Ah Wretch too late I finde How Vertues gâ—…ious Titles proue but Winde For if shee any could release from Death Thou yet eniâ—…y'd hadst Breath For if shee ere appear'd to mortall Eine It was in thy faire Shape that shee was seene But ô if I was made For thee with thee why too am I not dead VVhy doe outragious Fates which dimm'd thy Sight Let mee see hatefull Light They without mee made Death thee to surprise Tyrants perhaps that they might kill mee twise O Griefe and could one Day Haue Force such Excellence to take away Could a swift flying Moment ah deface Those matchlesse Gifts that Grace Which Art and Nature had in thee combinde To make thy Body paragone thy Minde Haue all past like a Cloud And doth eternall Silence now them shroud Is what so much admir'd was nought but Dust Of which a Stone hath trust O Change ô cruell Change thou to our Sight Shewes Destines Rigour equall doth their Might VVhen thou from Earth didst passe Sweet Nymph Perfections Mirrour broken was And this of late so glorious World of ours Like Meadow without Flowrs Or Ring of a rich Gemme made blind appear'd Or Night by Starre nor Cynthia neither clear'd Loue when hee saw thee die Entomb'd him in the Lidde of either Eye And left his Torch within thy sacred Vrne There for a Lampe to burne VVorth Honour Pleasure with thy Life expir'd Death since growne sweet beginnes to bee desir'd Whilst thou to vs wast giuen The Earth her Venus had as well as Heauen Nay and her Sunne which burnt as many Hearts As hee doth Easterne Parts Bright Sunne which forc'd to leaue these Hemispheares Benighted set into a Sea of Teares Ah Death who shall thee flie Sith the most worthie bee o'rethrowne by thee Thou spar'st the Rauens and Nightingalles dost kill And triumphes at thy will But giue thou canst not such an other Blow Because like Her Earth can none other show O bitter-Sweets of Loue How better is 't at all you not to proue Than when wee doe your Pleasure most possesse To find them then made lesse O! that the Cause which doth consume our Ioy Remembrance of it too would too destroy What doth this Life bestow But Flowrs on Thâ—…rnes which grow VVhich though they sometime blandishing delighte Yet afterwards vs smite And if the rising Sunne them faire doth see That Planet setting too beholdes them die This World is made a Hell Depriu'd of all that in it did excell O Pan Pan Winter is fallen in our May Turn'd is in Night our Day Forsake thy Pipe a Scepter take to thee Thy Lockes disgarland thou blacke Ioue shalt bee The Flockes doe leaue the Meads And loathing three-leaf'd Grasse hold vp their Heads The Streames not glide now with a gentle Rore Nor Birds sing as before Hilles stand with Clouds like Mourners vail'd in Blacke And Owles on Caban Roofes fore-tell oâ—…r Wracke That Zephyre euerie Yeere So soone was heard to sigh in Forrests heere It was for Her that wrapt in Gownes of Greene Meads were so earelie seene That in the saddest Months oft sâ—…ng the Mearles It was for Her for hâ—…r Trees dropt foorth Pearles That prowde and statelie Courts Did enuie those our Shades and calme Resorts It was for Her and shee is gone ô Woe Woods cut againe doe grow Budde doth the Rose and Dazie Winter done But wee once dead no more doe see the Sunne VVhose Name shall now make ring The Ecchoes of whom shall the Nymphettes sing VVhose heauenlie Voyce whose Soule-inuading Straines Shall fill with Ioy the Plaines VVhat Haire what Eyes can make the Morne in East VVeepe that a fairer riseth in the West Faire Sunne poste still away No Musicke heere is found thy Course to stay Sweet Hybla Swarmes with Wormewood fill your Bowrs Gone is the Flowre of Flowrs Blush no more Rose nor Lillie pale remaine Dead is that Beautie which yours late did staine Aye mee to waile my Plight VVhy haue not I as many Eyes as Night Or as that Shepheard which Ioues Loue did keepe That I still still may weepe But though I had my Teares vnto my Crosse VVere not yet equall nor Griefe to my Losse Yet of you brinie Showrs VVhich I heere powre may spring as many Flowrs As came of those which fell from Helens Eyes And when yee doe arise May euerie Leafe in sable Letters beare The dolefull Cause for which yee spring vp heere MAD. DEare Night the Ease of Care Vntroubled Seate of Peace Times eldest Childe which oft the Blinde doe see On this our Hemispheare What makes thee now so sadly darke to bee Comm'st thou in funerall Pompe her Graue to grace Or doe those Starres which should thy Horrour cleare In Ioues high Hall aduise In what Part of the Skies VVith them or Cynthia shee shall appeare Or ah alas because those matchlesse Eyes VVhich shone so faire below thou dost not finde Striu'st thou to make all other Eyes looke blinde SON MY Lute bee as thou wast when thou didst grow With thy greene Mother in some shadie Groue When immelodious Windes but made thee moue And Birds on thee their Ramage did bestow Sith that deare Voyce which did thy Sounds approue Which vs'd in such harmonious Straines to flow Is reft from Earth to tune those Spheares aboue What art thou but a Harbenger of Woe Thy pleasing Notes be pleasing Notes no more But orphane Wailings to the fainting Eare Eâ—…ch Stoppe a Sigh each Sound drawes foorth a Teare Bee therefore silent as in Woods before
Or if that any Hand to touch thee daigne Like widow'd Turtle still her Losse complaine SON SWeet Spring thou turn'st with all thy goodlie Traine Thy Head with Flames thy Mantle bright with Flowrs The Zephyres curle the greene Lockes of the Plaine The Cloudes for Ioy in Pearles weepe downe their Showrs Thou turn'st sweet Youth but ah my pleasant Howres And happie Dayes with thee come not againe The sad Memorialls only of my Paine Doe with thee turne which turne my Sweets in Sowres Thou art the same which still thou wast before Delicious wanton amiable faire But shee whose Breath embaulm'd thy wholesome Aire Is gone nor Gold nor Gemmes Her can restore Neglected Vertue Seasons goe and come While thine forgot lie closed in a Tombe SON WHat doth it serue to see Sunnes burning Face And Skies enamell'd with both the Indies Gold Or Moone at Night in jettie Charriot roll'd And all the Glorie of that starrie Place What doth it serue Earths Beautie to behold The Mountaines Pride the Meadowes flowrie Grace The statelie Comelinesse of Forrests old The Sport of Flouds which would themselues embrace What doth it serue to heare the Syluans Songs The wanton Mearle the Nightingalles sad Straines Which in daâ—…ke Shades seeme to dâ—…plore my Wâ—…ongs For what doth seruâ—… all that this World containes Sith shee for whome those once to mee were deare No Part of them can haue now with mee heere MAD. THe Beautie and the Life Of Lifes and Beauties fairest Paragon O Teares ô Griefe hang at a feeble Thread To which pale Atropos had set her Knife The Soule with many a Grone Had left each outward Part And now did take his last Leaue of the Heart Nought else did want saâ—…e Death â—…uen to be dead VVhen the afflicted Band about her Bed Seeing so faire him come in Lips Cheekes Eyes Cried ah and can Death enter Paradise SON AH Napkin ominous Present of my Deare Gift miserable which doth now remaine The only Guerdon of my helpelesse Paine When I thee got thou shew'd my State too cleare I â—…euer since haue ceased to complaine Since I the Badge of Griefe did euer weare Ioy on my Face durst neuer since appeare Care was the Food which did mee entertaine Now since made mine deare Napkin doe not grieue That I this Tribute pay thee from mine Eine And that these posting Houres I am to liue I laundre thy faire Figures in this Brine No I must yet euen begge of thee the Grace That thou wouldst daigne in Graue to shrowdemy Face MAD. POore Turtle thou bemones The Losse of thy deare Loue And I for mine send foorth these smoaking Grones Vnhappie widow'd Doue VVhile all about doe sing I at the Roote Thou on the Branche aboue Euen wearie with our Mones the gaudie Spring Yet these our Plaints wee doe not spend in vaine Sith sighing Zephyres answere vs againe SON AS in a duskie and tempestuous Night A Starre is wont to spreade her Lockes of Gold And while her pleasant Rayes abroad are roll'd Some spitefull Cloude doth robbe vs of her Sight Faire Soule in this blacke Age so shin'd thou bright And made all Eyes with Wonder thee beholde Till vglie Death depriuing vs of Light In his grimme mistie Armes thee did enfolde Who more shall vaunt true Beautie heere to see What Hope doth more in any Heart remaine That such Perfections shall his Reason raine If Beautie with thee borne too died with thee World plaine no more of Loue nor count his Harmes With his pale Trophees Death hath hung his Armes SON SIth it hath pleas'd that First and onlie Faire To take that Beautie to himselfe againe Which in this World of Sense not to remaine But to amaze was sent and home repaire The Loue which to that Beautie I did beare Made pure of mortall Spots which did it staine And endlesse which euen Death cannot impaire I place on him who will it not disdaine No shining Eyes no Lockes of curling Gold No blushing Roâ—…es on a virgine Face No outward Show no nor no inward Grace Shall Force hereafter haue my Thoughts to hold Loue heere on Earth hudge Stormes of Care doe tosse But plac'd aboue exempted is from Losse MAD. MY Thoughts hold mortall Strife I doe detest my Life And with lamenting Cries Peace to my Soule to bring Oft calles that Prince which here doth Monarchise But Hee grimme grinning King VVhâ—… Catiues scornes and doth the Blest surprise Late hauing deckt with Beauties Rose his Tombe Dâ—…sdaines to croppe a VVeede and will not come SONG IT Autumne was and on our Hemispheare Faire Ericyne began bright to appeare Night West-ward did her gemmie World decline And hide her Lights that greater Light might shine The crested Bird had giuen Alarum twise To lazie Mortalls to vnlocke their Eyes The Owle had left to plaine and from each Thorne The wing'd Musicians did salute the Morne VVho while shee glass'd her Lockes in Ganges Streames Set open wide the christall Port of Dreames When I whose Eyes no drowsie Night could close In Sleepes soft Armes did quietly repose And for that Heauens to die mee did denie Deaths Image kissed and as dead did lie I lay as dead but scarce charm'd were my Cares And slaked scarce my Sighes scarce dried my Teares Sleepe scarce the vglie Figures of the Day Had with his sable Pincell put away And left mee in a still and calmie Mood VVhen by my Bed me thought a Virgine stood A Virgine in the blooming of her Prime If such rare Beautie measur'd bee by Time Her Head a Garland ware of Opalls bright About Her flow'd a Gowne as pure as Light Deare amber Lockes gaue Vmbrage to her Face VVhere Modestie high Majestie did grace Her Eyes such Beames sent fooâ—…th that but with Paine Here weaker Sights their sparckling could sustaine No Deitie faign'd which haunts the silent Woods Is like to Her nor Syrene of the Floods Such is the golden Planet of the Yeare VVhen blushing in the East hee doth appeare Her Grace did Beautie Voyce yet Grace did passe VVhich thus through Pâ—…arles and Rubies broken was How long wilt thou said shee estrang'd from Ioy Paint Shadowes to thy selfe of false Annoy How long thy Minde with horride Shapes affrighte And in imaginarie Euills delighte Esteeme that Losse which well when view'd is Gaine Or if a Losse yet not a Losse to plaine O leaue thy tyred Soule more to molest And thinke that Woe when shortest then is best If shee for whom thou deafnest thus the Skie Bee dead what then was shee not borne to die VVas shee not mortall borne if thou dost grieue That Times should bee in which shee should not liue Ere e're shee was weepe that Dayes Wheele was roll'd VVeepe that shee liu'd not in the Age of Gold For that shee was not then thou may'st deplore As duely as that now shee is no more If onely shee had died thou sure hadst Cause To blame the Destines and Heauens yrone Lawes But looke how many
their Flockes with downe-cast Eyes Disdaining to looke vp to angrie Skies Some broke their Pipes and some in sweet-sad Layes Made senslesse things amazed at thy Praise His Reed Alexis hung vpon a Tree And with his Teares made Doven great to bee Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore Chaste Maides which haunt faire Aganippe Well And you in Tempes sacred Shade who dwell Let fall your Harpes cease Tunes of loy to sing Discheueled make all Parnassus ring VVith Antheames sad thy Musicke Phoebus turne In dolefull Plaints whilst Ioy it selfe doth mourne Dead is thy Darling who decor'd thy Bayes VVho oft was wont to cherish thy sweet Layes And to a Trumpet raise thine amorous Stile That floting Delos enuie might this I le You Acidalian Archers breake your Bowes Your Brandons quench with Teares blot Beauties Snowes And bid your weeping Mother yet againe A second Adons Death nay Marses plaine His Eyes once were your Darts nay euen his Name VVhere euer heard did euery Heart inflame Tagus did court his Loue with golden Streames Rhein with his Townes faire Seine with all shee claimes But ah poore Louers Death did them betrey And not suspected made their Hopes his Prey Tagus bewailes his Losse with golden Streames Rhein with his Townes faire Seine with all shee claimes Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore Delicious Meads whose checkred Plaine foorth brings VVhite golden azure Flowres which once were Kings In mourning Blacke their shining Colours dye Bow downe their Heads whilst sighing Zephyres flye Queene of the Fields whose Blush makes blushe the Morne Sweet Rose a Princes Death in Purple mourne O Hyacinthes for ay your AI keepe still Nay with moe Markes of Woe your Leaues now fill And you O Flowre of Helens Teares first borne Into those liquide Pearles againe you turne Your greene Lockes Forrests cut in weeping Myrrhes The deadly Cypresse and Inke-dropping Firres Your Palmes and Mirtles change from Shadowes darke VVing'd Syrens waile and you sad Ecchoes marke The lamentable Accents of their Mone And plaine that braue Moeliades is gone Stay Skie thy turning Course and now become A stately Arche vnto the Earth his Tombe Ouer which ay the watrie Iris keepe And sad Electras Sisters which still weepe Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore Deare Ghost forgiue these our vntimely Teares By which our louing Minde though weake appeares Our Losse not Thine when wee complaine wee weepe For thee the glistring Walles of Heauen doe keepe Beyond the Planets Wheeles aboue that Source Of Spheares that turnes the lower in its Course VVhere Sunne doth neuer set nor vgly Night Euer appeares in mourning Garments dight VVhere Boreas stormie Trumpet doth not sound Nor Cloudes in Lightnings bursting Minds astound From Cares cold Climates farre and hote Desire VVhere Time is banish'd Ages ne're exspire Amongst pure Sprights enuironed with Beames Thou think'st all things below to bee but Dreames And joy'st to looke downe to the azur'd Barres Of Heauen indented all with streaming Starres And in their turning Temples to behold In siluer Robe the Moone the Sunne in Gold Like young Eye-speaking Louers in a Dance VVith Majestie by Turnes retire aduance Thou wondrest Earth to see hang like a Ball Clos'd in the gastly Cloyster of this All And that poore Men should proue so madly fond To tosse themselues for a small Foot of Ground Nay that they euen dare braue the Powers aboue From this base Stage of Change that cannot moue All worldly Pompe and Pride thou seest arise Like Smoake that scattreth in the emptie Skies Other Hilles and Forrests other sumptuous Towres Amaz'd thou find'st excelling our poore Bowres Courts voyde of Flatterie of Malice Mindes Pleasure which lasts not such as Reason blindes Farre sweeter Songs thou hear'st and Carrolings VVhilst Heauens doe dance and Quire of Angells sings Than moldie Mindes could faine euen our Annoy If it approach that Place is chang'd in Ioy. Rest blessed Spright rest saciate with the Sight Of him whose Beames both dazell and delight Life of all Liues Cause of each other Cause The Spheare and Center where the Minde doth pause Narcissus of himselfe himselfe the Well Louer and Beautie that doth all excell Rest happie Ghost and wonder in that Glasse VVhere seene is all that shall be is or was VVhile shall be is oâ—… was doe passe away And nought remaine but an Eternall Day For euer rest thy Praise Fame may enroule In golden Annalles whilst about the Pole The slow Bootes turnes or Sunne doth rise VVith skarlet Scarfe to cheare the mourning Skies The Virgines to thy Tombe may Garlands beare Of Flowres and on each Flowre let fall a Teare Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore SONNET A Passing Glance a Lightning long the Skies That vsh'ring Thunder dies straight to our Sight A Sparke of Contraries which doth arise Then drownes in the huge Depthes of Day and Night Is this small-Small call'd Life held in such Price Of blinded Wights who nothing judge aright Of Parthian Shaft so swift is not the Flight As Life that wastes it selfe and liuing dies O! what is humane Greatnesse Valour Wit What fading Beautie Riches Honour Praise To what doth serue in golden Thrones to sit Thrall Earths vaste Round triumphall Arches raise All is a Dreame learne in this Princes Fall In whome saue Death nought mortall was at all Of IET Or Porphyrie Or that white Stone PAROS affordes alone Or those in Azure Dye Which seeme to scorne the Skie Here MEMPHIS Wonders doe not set Nor ARTEMISIAS hudge Frame That keepes so long her LOVERS Name Make no great Marble Atlas tremble with Gold To please a vulgare EYE that doth behold The Muses Phoebus LOVE haue raised of their Teares A chrystall Tombe to Him through which his Worth appeares VRANIA OR Spirituall Poems VRANIA OR Spirituall Poems TRiumphing Chariots Statues Crownes of Bayes Skie threatning Arches the Rewards of Worth Workes heauenly wise in sweet â—…armonious Layes Which Sprights diuine vnto the World set forth States which ambitious Mindes with Blood doe raise From frozen Tanais to Sunne-gilded Gange Giganticke Frames held Wonders rarely strange Like Spiders Webbes are made the Sport of Dayes All onâ—…y constant is in constant Change What done is is vndone and when vndone Into some other Fashion doth it range Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone Where for my Minde aboue Time Motion Place Thee raise and Steps vnknowne to Nature Trace TOo long I follow'd haue my fond Desire And too long painted on the Ocean Streames Too long Refreshment sought amidst the Fire And hunted Ioyes which to my Soule were Blames Ah! when I had what most I did admire And seene of Lifes Delights the last Extreames I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer A Nought a Thought a Show of mocking Dreames Hencefoorth on thee mine only Good I 'll thinke For only thou canst grant what
I doe craue Thy Naile my Penne shall bee thy Blood mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Graue And till that Soule forth of this Bodie flie No Hope I 'll haue but only onelie Thee TO spreade the azure Canopie of Heauen And make it twinckle all with Spanges of Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so euen That it should all and nought should it vphold To giue strange Motions to the Planets seuen And Ioue to make so meeke and Mars so bold To temper what is moist drie hote and cold Of all their Iarres that sweet Accords are giuen LORD to thy Wit is nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glorie laid aside Come basely in Mortalitie to bide And die for them deseru'd eternall Plight A Wonder is so farre aboue our Wit That Angells stand amaz'd to thinke on it COme forth come forth yee blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Towne Come see that King who all this All commands Now ouercharg'd with Loue die for his owne Looke on those Nailes which pierce his Feete and Hands What a strange Diademe his Browes doth crowne Beholde his pallide Face his Eyes which sowne And what a Throng of Thieues him mocking stands Come forth yee Empyrean Troupes come forth Preserue this sacred Blood which Earth adornes Gather those liquide Roses from his Thornes O! to bee lost they bee of too much Worth For Streames 1 Iuice 2 Baulme 3 they are which quench 1 killes 2 charmes 3 Of God 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the Wrath 1 the Life 2 the Harmes 3 SOule which to Hell wast thrall Hee hee for thine Offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soueraigne Excellence O Life of all that liues Eternall Bountie which all Goodnesse giues How could Death mount so hie No Wit this Point can reach Faith onely doth vs teach For vs hee died at all who could not die IF with such passing Beautie choise Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible which World we name Yet sillie Mansion but of mortall Wights How many Wonders what amazing Lights Must that triumphing Seate of Glorie claime Which doth transcend all this great All 's high Hights Of whose bright Sunne ours heere is but a Beame O blest Abode ô happie dwelling Place Where visiblie th'Inuisible doth raigne Blest People who doe see true Beauties Face With whose darke Shadowes Hee but Earth doth daigne All Ioy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Match'd with your endlesse Blisse and happie Life LOue which is heere a Care That Wit and Will doth marre Vncertaine Truce and a most certaine Warre A shrill tempestuous Winde VVhich doth disturbe the Minde And like wilde Waues our Dessignes all commoue Among those Sprights aboue VVhich see their Makers Face It a Contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure voide of Griefe a constant Rest Eternall Ioy which nothing can molest WHat haplesse Hap had I now to bee borne In these vnhappie Times and dying Dayes Of this else-doating World when Good decayes Loue is quench'd forth and Vertue held a Scorne When such are onely priz'd by wretched Wayes Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Auarice and Lust are counted Praise And noble Mindes liue Orphane like forlorne Why was not I into that golden Age When Gold yet was not knowne and those blacke Artes By which base Mortalles vildely play their Parts And staine with horride Actes Earths stately Stage Then to haue beene Heauen it had beene my Blissâ—… But blesse mee now and take mee soone from this THrise happie hee who by some shadie Groue Farre from the clamarous World doth liue his owne Though solitare yet who is not alone But doth conuerse with that Eternall Loue. O how more sweet is Birds harmonious Mone Or the soft Sobbings of the widow'd Doue Than those smoothe Whisp'rings neare a Princes Throne Which Good make doubtfull doe the Euill approue O how more sweet is Zephyres wholesome Breath And Sighs perfum'd which doe the Flowres vnfold Than that Applause vaine Honour doth bequeath How sweete are Streames to Poyson drunke in Gold The World is full of Horrours Falshoods Slights Woods silent Shades haue only true Delights WHy Worldlings doe ye trust fraile Honours Dreames And leane to guilded Glories which decay Why doe yee toyle to registrate your Names In ycie Columnes which soone melt away True Honour is not here that Place it claimes Where blacke-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no farre-shining Lampe diues in the Sea But an eternall Sunne spreades lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sprights stand gazing on their soueraigne Blisse Where Yeeres not hold it in their cankring Hands But who once noble euer noble is Looke home lest he your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall AStrea in this Time Now doth not liue but is fled vp to Heauen Or if shee liue it is not without Crime That shee doth vse her Power And shee is no more Virgine but a Whoure Whoure prostitute for Gold For shee doth neuer holde her Ballance euen And when her Sword is roll'd The Bad Injurious False shee not o'rethrowes But on the Innocent lets fall her Blowes WHat serues it to bee good Goodnesse by thee The Holy-wise is thought a Foole to bee For thee the Man to Temperance inclin'de Is held but of a base and abject Minde The Continent is thought for thee but cold Who yet was good that euer died old The pittifull who others feares to kill Is kill'd himselfe and Goodnesse doth him ill The meeke and humble Man who cannot braue By thee is to some Giants Brood made Slaue Poore Goodnesse thine thou to such Wrongs sett'st forth That ô I feare mee thou art nothing worth And when I looke to Earth and not to Heauen Ere I were turned Doue I would bee Rauen. GReat GOD whom wee with humble Thoughts adore Eternall infinite almightie King Whose Pallace Heauen transcends whose Throne before Archangells serue and Seraphins doe sing Of Nought who wrought all that with wondring Eyes VVee doe behold within this spacious Round VVho mak'st the Rockes to rocke and stand the Skies At whose Command the horride Thunders sound Ah! spare vs Wormes weigh not how wee alas Euill to our Selues against thy Lawes rebell VVash off those Spots which still in Conscience Glasse Though wee bee loth to looke wee see too well Deseru'd Reuenge ô doe not doe not take If thou reuenge what shall abide thy Blow Passe shall this World this World which thou didst make VVhich should not perish till thy Trumpet blow For who is hee whom Parents Sinne not staines Or with his owne Offence is not defil'd Though Iustice Ruine threaten Iustice Raines Let Mercie hold and bee both just and milde Lesse are our Faults farre farre thaâ—… is thy Loue O! what can better seeme thy Pow'r diuine Than those who Euill deserue thy Goodnesse proue And where thou thunder shouldst there
Millions Her aduance VVhat numbers with Her enter â—…n this Dance VVith those which are to come shall Heauens them staye And All 's faire Order breake thee to obaye Euen as thy Birth Death which thee doth appall A Piece is of the Life of this great All. Strong Cities die die doe high palmie Raignes And weakling thou thus to bee handled plaines If shee bee dead then shee of lothsome Dayes Hath past the Line whose Length but Losse bewrayes Then shee hath lefâ—… this filthie Stage of Care VVhere Pleasure seldome Woe doth still repaire For all the Pleasures which it doth containe Not conteruaile the smallest Minutes Paine And tell mee Thou who dost sâ—… much admire This litle Vapour Smoake this Sparke or Fire VVhich Life is call'd what doth it thee bequeath But some few Yeeres which Birth drawes out to Death VVhich if thou paragone with Lusters runne And them whose Carriere is but now begunne In Dayes great Vaste they shall farre lesse appeare Than with the Sea when matched is a Teare But why wouldst thou Her longer wish to bee One Yeere doth serue all Natures Pompe to see Nay euen one Day and Night This Moone that Sunne Those lesser Fires about this Round which runne Bee but the same which vnder Saturnes Raigne Did the serpenting Seasons enterchaine How oft doth Life grow lesse by liuing long And what excelleth but what diâ—…th yong For Age which all abhorre yet would embrace Whiles makes the Minde as wrinckled as the Face And when that Destinies conspire with Worth That Yeeres not glorie Wrong Life soone goes forth Leaue then Lâ—…nts and thinke thou didst not liue Lawes to that fiâ—…st eternall Câ—…use to giue But to obey those Lâ—…wes which hee hath giuen And bow vnto the just Decrees of Heauen Which can not erre wâ—…at euer foggie Mists Doe blinde Men in these sublunarie Lists But what if shee for whom thou spend'st those Grones And wastest Lifes deare Torch in ruethfull Mones Shee for whose sake thou hat'st the joyfull Light Court'st solitarie Shades and irkesome Night Doth liue ô if thou canst through Teares a Space Lift thy dimm'd Lights and looke vpon this Face Looke if those Eyes which foole thou didst adore Shine not more bright than they were wont before Looke if those Roses Death could ought impaire Those Roses to thee once which seem'd so faire And if these Lockes haue lost ought of that Gold VVhich earst they had when thou them didst behold I liue and happie liue but thou art dead And still shalt bee till thou be like mee made Alas whilst wee are wrapt in Gownes of Earth And blinde heere sucke the Aire of Woe beneath Each thing in Senses Ballances wee wie And but with Toyle and Paine the Trueth descrie Aboue this waste and admirable Frame This Temple visible which World wee name VVithin whose Walles so many Lamps doe burne So many Arches opposite doe turne VVhere Elementall Brethren nurse their Strife And by intestine Warres maintaine their Life There is a World a World of perfect Blisse Pure immateriall bright more farre from this Than that high Circle which the rest enspheares Is from this dull ignoble Vale of Teares A World where all is found that heere is found But further discrepant than Heauen and Ground It hath an Earth as hath this World of yours VVith Creatures peopled stor'd with Trees and Flowrs It hath a Sea like Saphire Girdle cast VVhich decketh of harmonious Shores the Waste It hath pure Fire it hath delicious Aire Moone Sunne and Starres Heauens wonderfully faire But there Flowrs doe not fade Trees grow not olde The Creatures doe not die through Heat nor Colde Sea there not tossed is nor Aire made blacke Fire doth not nurse it selfe on others Wracke There Heauens bee not constrain'd about to range For this World hath no neede of any Change The Minutes grow not Houres Houres rise not Dayes Dayes make no Months but euer-blooming Mayes Heere I remaine and hitherward doe tend All who their Spanne of Dayes in Vertue spend VVhat euer Pleasure this low Place containes It is a Glance but of what high remaines Those who perchance thinke there can nothing bee VVithout this wide Expansion which they see And that nought else mounts Starres Circumference For that nought else is subject to their Sense Feelâ—… such a Case as one whom some Abisme Of the Deepe Ocean kept had all his Time VVho borne and nourish'd there can scarcely dreame That ought can liue without that brinie Streame Cannot beleeue that there be Temples Towres VVhich goe beyond his Caues and dampish Bowres Or there bee other People Manners Lawes Than them hee fiâ—…ds within the roaring Waues That sweetâ—…r Flowrs doe spring than grow on Rockes Or Beasts bee which excell the skalie Flockes That other Elements bee to bee found Than is the Water and this Ball of Ground But thinke that Man from those Abismes were brought And saw what curious Nature here hath wrought Did see the Meads the tall and shadie Woods The Hilles did see the cleare and ambling Floods The diuerse Shapes of Beasts which Kinds foorth bring The feathred Troupes that flie and sweetly sing Did see the Palaces the Cities faire The Forme of humane Life the Fire the Aire The brightnesse of the Sunne that dimmes his Sight The Moone the gastly Splendors of the Night VVhat vncouth Rapture would his Minde surprise How would hee his late-deare Resort despise How would hee muse how foolish hee had beene To thinke nought bee but what hee there had seene VVhy did wee get this high and vaste Desire Vnto immortall things still to aspire VVhy doth our Minde extend it beyond Time And to that highest Happinesse euen clime If wee be nought but what to Sense wee seeme And Dust as most of Worldlings vs esteeme Wee bee not made for Earth though here wee come More than the Embryon for the Mothers Wombe It weepes to bee made free and wee complaine To leaue this loathsome Iayle of Care and Paine But thou who vulgare Foot-steps dost not trace Learne to raise vp thy Minde vnto this Place And what Earth-creeping Mortalles most affect If not at all to scorne yet to neglect O chase not Shadowes vaine which when obtain'd VVere better lost than with such Trauell gain'd Thinke that on Earth which Humanes Greatnesse call Is but a glorious Title to liue thrall That Scepters Diadems and Chaires of State Not in themselues but to small Mindes are great How those who loftiest mount doe hardest light And deepest Falls bee from the highest Hight How Farne an Eccho is how all Renowne Like to a blasted Rose ere Night falles downe And though it something were thinke how this Round Is but a litle Point which doth it bound O leaue that Loue which reacheth but to Dust And in that Loue eternall only trust And Beautie which when once it is possest Can only fill the Soule and make it blest Pale Enuie jealous Emulations Feares Sighs Plaints Remorse here haue no