Death thou Child's Bug-bear thou fools terrour Gastly set forth the weak to awe Begot by fear increast by errour Whom none but a sick Fancy ever saw Thou who art only fear'd By the illiterate and tim'rous Heard But by the wise Esteem'd the greatest of Felicities Why sithence by an Universal Law Entail'd upon Mankind thou art Should any dread or seek t' avoid thy Dart When of the two Fear is the greatest smart O senceless Man who vainly flies What Heaven has ordain'd to be The Remedy Of all thy Mortal pains and miseries III. Sorrow Want Sickness Injury Mischance The happy'st Man's certain Inheritance With all the various Ills Which the wide World with mourning â—ills Or by Corruption or Disaster bred Are for the living all not for the dead When Life's Sun sets Death is a Bed With sable Curtains spread Where we lye down To rest the weary Limbs and careful Head And to the Good a Bed of Down There there no frightful Tintamarre Of Tumult in the many headed Beast Nor all the loud Artillery of War Can fright us from that sweet that happy Rest Wherewith the still and silent Grave is blest Nor all the rattle that above they keep â—reak our repose or rouze us from that everlasting sleep IV. The Grave is priviledg'd from noise and care From Tyranny and wild oppression Violence has so little power there Ev'n worst Oppressors let the dead alone We 're there secure from Princes frowns The Insolencies of the Great From the rude hands of barb'rous Clowns And Policies of those that sweat The simple to betray and cheat Or if some one with Sacrilegious hand Would persecute us after Death His want of Power shall his Will withstand And he shall only lose his breath For all that he by that shall gain Will be Dishonour for his pain And all the clutter he can keep Will only serve to rock us whilst we soundly sleep V. The Dead no more converse with Tears With idle Jealousies and Fears No danger makes the Dead man start No idle Love torments his heart No loss of Substance Parents Children Friends Either his Peace or Sleep offends Nought can provoke his anger or despite He out of combat is and injury 'T is he of whom Philosophers so write And who would be a Stoick let him dye For whilst we living are what Man is he Who the Worlds wroâ—gs does either feel or see That possibly from Passion can be free But must put on A noble Indignation Warranted both by Vertue and Religion VI. Then let me dye and no more subject be Unto the Tyrannizing pow'rs To which this short Mortality of ours Is either preordain'd by Destiny Or bound by natural Infirmity We nothing whilst we here remain But Sorrow and Repentance gain Nay ev'n our very joyes are pain Or being past To woe and torment turn at last Nor is there yet any so sacred place Where we can sanctuary find No Man's a friend to Sorrow and Disgrace But flying one we other mischiefs meet Or if we kinder Entertainment find We bear the seeds of Sorrow in the Mind And keep our frailty when we shift our feet Whilst we are Men we still our Passions have And he that is most free is his own slave There is no refuge but the friendly Grave On the Death of the Most Noble Thomas Earl of Ossory Carmen Irregulare I ENough Enough I'lâ— hear no more And would to Heav'n I had been deaf before That â—atal Sound had struck my Ear Harsh Rumor has not left so sad a note In her hoarse Trumpet 's brazen throat To move Compassion and inforce a Tear. Methinks all Nature should relent and droop The Center shrink and Heaven stoop The Day be turn'd to mourning Night The twinkling Stars weep out their Light And all things out of their Distinction run Into their primitive Confusion A Chaos with cold Darkness overspread Since the Illustrious Ossory is dead II. When Death that fatal Arrow drew Ten Thousand hearts he pierced through Though one alone he out-right slew Never since Sin gave him his killing Trade He at one shot so great a slaughter made He needs no more at those let fly They of that wound alone will dye And who can now expect to live when he Thus fell unpriviledg'd we see He met Death in his greatest Tryumph War And always thence came off a Conqueror Through rattling shot and Pikes the Slave he sought Knock't at each Cuirass for him as he fought Beat him at Sea and baffled him on shore War 's utmost fury he out-brav'd before But yet it seems a Fever could do more III. The English Infantry are Orphans now Pale Sorrow hangs on every Souldiers-brow Who now in Honour's path shall lead you on Since your beloved General is gon Furl up your Ensigns case the warlike Drum Pay your last honours to his Tomb Hang dow your Manly heads in sign of woe That now is all that your poor Loves can do Unless by Wiâ—â—â—r's Fire or Summer's shade To tell what a brave Leader once you had Hang your now useless Arms up in the Hall There let them rust upon the sweating Wall Go Till the Fields and with inglorious Sweat An honest but a painful living get Your old neglected Callings now renew And bid to glorious War a long adieu IV. The Dutch may now have Fishing free And whilst the Consternation lasts Like the proud Rulers of the Sea Shew the full stature of their Masts Our English Neptune deaf to all Alarms Now soundly sleeps in Deaths cold Arms And on his Ebon Altar has laid down His awful Trident and his Naval Crown No more shall the tall Frigat dance For joy she carrys this Victorious Lord Who to the Capstain chain'd Mischance Commanding on her lofty board The Sea it self that is all tears Would weep her soundless Channel dry Had she unhappily but Ears To hear that Ossory could dye Ah cruel Fate thou never struck'st a blow By all Mankind regretted so Nor can't be said who should lament him most No Country such a Patriot e're could boast And never Monarch such a Subject lost V. And yet we knew that he must one day dye That should our grief asswage By Sword or Shot or by Infirmity Or if theâ—e fail'd by Age. But He alas too soon gave place To the Successors of his Noble Race We wisht and coveted to have him long He was not old enough to dye so soon And they to finish what he had begun As much too young But Time that had no hand in his mischance Is fitter to mature and to advance Their early hopes to the Inheritance Of Titles Honors Riches and Command Their Glorious Grandsir's Merits have obtain'd And which shines brighter than a Ducal Crown Of their Illustrious Family's Renown Oh may there never fail of that brave Race A man as great as the great Ossory was To serve his Prince and as successful prove In the same Valour Loyalty and Love
his Care And honest Labour makes his Bed. XXV Who free from Debt and clear from Crimes Honours those Laws that others fear Who ill of Princes in worst Times Will neither speak himself nor hear XXVI Who from the busie World retires To be more useful to it still And to no greater good aspires But only the eschewing ill XXVII Who with his Angle and his Books Can think the longest day well spent And praises God when back he looks And finds that all was innocent XXVIII This man is happier far than he Whom publick Business oft betrays Through Labyrinths of policy To crooked and forbidden ways XXIX The World is full of beaten Roads But yet so slippery withall That where one walks secure `t is odds A hundred and a hundred fall XXX Untrodden Paths are then the best Where the frequented are unsure And he comes soonest to his rest Whose Journey has been most secure XXXI It is Content alone that makes Our Pilgrimage a Pleasure here And who buyes Sorrow cheapest takes An ill Commodity too dear XXXII But he has Fortunes worst withstood And Happiness can never miss Can covet nought but where he stood And thinks him happy where he is Stances de Monsieur de Scudery FAIR Nymph by whose Perfections mov'd My wounded heart is turn'd to flame By all admir'd by all approv'd Endure at least to be belov'd Although you will not love again Aminta as unkind as fair What is there that you ought to fear For cruel if I you declare And that indeed you cruel are Why the Reproach may you not hear Even Reproaches should delight If Friendship for me you have none And if no Anger I have yet Enough perhaps that may invite Your hatred or Compassion When your Disdain is most severe When you most rigorous do prove When frowns of Anger most you wear You still more charming do appear And I am more and more in Love. Ah let me Sweet your sight enjoy Though with the forfeit of my Life For fall what will I 'de rather dye Beholding you of present Joy Than absent of a lingring grief Let your Eyes lighten till expiring In flame my Heart a Cinder lye Falling is nobler than retiring And in the glory of aspiring ` T is brave to tumble from the Sky Yet I would any thing embrace Might serve your Anger to appease And if I may obtain my grace Your steps shall leave no print nor trace I will not with Devotion kiss If Tyrant you will have it so No word my Passion shall betray My wounded Heart shall hide its woe But if it sigh those Sighs will show And tell you what my Tongue would say Should yet your Rigour higher rise Even those offending Sighs shall cease I will my Pain and grief disguise But Sweet if you consult mine Eyes Those Eyes will tell you my Disease If th' utmost my Respect can do Still will your Cruelty displease Consult your Face and that will shew What Love is to such Beauty due And to the state of my Disease Melancholy Pindarick Ode I. WHat in the name of wonder 's this Which lyes so heavy at my heart That I ev'n Death it self could kiss And think it were the greatest Bliss Even at this moment to depart Life even to the wretched dear To me 's so nauseous grown There is no ill I 'de not commit But proud of what would forâ—eit it Would act the mischeif without fear And wade through thousand lives to lose my own II. Yea Nature never taught me bloody Rules Nor was I yet with vicious precept bred And now my Virtue paints my cheeks in Gules To check mee for the wicked thing I said ` T is not then I but something in my Breast With which unwittingly I am possest Which breaths forth Horror to proclaim That I am now no more the same One that some seeds of Vertue had But one run resolutely mad A Fiend a Fury and a Beast Or a Demoniack at least Who without sence of Sin or shame At nothing but dire mischiefs aim Egg'd by the Prince of Fiends and Legion is his Name III. Alas my Reason's overcast That Sovereign Guide is quite displac't Clearly dismounted from his Throne Banish'd his Empire fled and gone And in his room An infamous Usurper's come Whose Name is sounding in mine Ear Like that methinks of Oliver Nay I remember in his Life Such a Disease as mine was mighty rise And yet methinks it cannot be That he Should be crept into me My skin could ne're contain sure so much Evil Nor any place but Hell can hold so great a Devil IV. But by its symtomes now I know What is that does torment me so ` T is a disease As great a Fiend almost as these That drinks up all my better blood And leaves the rest a standing Pool And though I ever little understood Makes me a thousand times more Fool. Fumes up dark vapours to my Brain Creates burnt Choler in my breast And of these nobler parts possest Tyrannically there does reign Oh when kind Heaven shall I be well again V. Accursed Melancholy it was Sin First brought thee in Sin lodg'd the first in our first Father's Breast By Sin thou' rt nourish't and by Sin increast Thou' rt man's own Creature he has giv'n thee pow'r The sweets of Life thus to devour To make us shun the cheerful Light And creep into the shades of Night Where the sly Tempter ambush't lies To make the discontented Soul his prize There the Progenitor of guile Accosts us in th' old Serpent's style Rails at the World as well as we Nay Providence i 's sel 's 's not free Proceeding then to Arts of Flattery He there extolls our Valour and our Parts Spreads all his Nets to catch our Hearts Concluding thus what generous mind Would longer here draw breath That might so sure a Refuge find In the repose of Death Which having said he to our choice presents All his destroying Instruments Swords and Steeletto's Halters Pistols Knives Poysons both quick and slow to end our Lives Or if we like none of those fine Devices He then presents us Pools and Precipices Or to let out or suffocate our breath And by once dying to obtain an everlasting Death VI. Avaunt thou Devil Melancholy Thou grave and sober Folly Night of the Mind wherein our Reasons grope For future Joys but never can find hope Parent of Murthers Treasons and Despair Thou pleasing and eternal care Go sow thy rank and poys'nous seeds In such a soyl of mind as breeds With little help black and nefarious deeds And let my whiter Soul alone For why should I thy sable weed put on Who never meditated ill nor ill have never done VII Ah `t is ill done to me that makes me sad And thus to pass away With sighs the tedious Nights and does Like one that either is or will be mad Repentance can our own fowl soules make pure And expiate the foulest Deed Whereas the
good and ill of those you love and hate In vain I sue to her I so adore In vain her help that has no Power implore For as black Night pursues the glorious Sun The greatest Good does but some Ill fore-run When handsome Paris liv'd with Helen fair He saw his Fortune rais'd above his Care But Fate severely did revenge that bliss For as with time his Fortune changed is From his Delights sprang a debate that Fire Brought to old Troy and massacred his Sire And though in that subversion there appearâ— Such sad mishaps of Bloud of Fire and Tears Yet by that Heavenly Face I so adore I swear for love of thee I suffer more For so long absent from thy gracious Eyes Methinks I banisht am the Deities And that from Heaven with Thunder wrapt in Flame To th' Centre I precipitated am Since I left thee my Pleasures in their Tomb â—ye dead and I their Mourner am become With all Delights my Thoughts distasted are And only to dislike the World take care Which as complying with my peevish Will Does nothing I protest but vex me still In Paris like an Hermit I retire And in one Object limit my Desire Where e'er my Eyes seek to divert my Mind I bear the Prison where I am confin'd My Blood is sir'd and my Soul wounded lies By th' golden Shaft shot from thy killing Eyes All the Temptations that I daily see Serve only to confirm my Faith to thee The usual helps that humane Reâ—son bless To render a Man's Passion someâ—hing less Stir mine up more to suffer chearfully Th' obliging Torments that do make me dye My Prudence by my Courage is withstood As by a rock the fury of the Floud I love my Frenzy and I could not love Him of my Friends that should it disapprove Nor do I think my reasonable part Will e'er approach me whilst thou absent art I find my Thoughts uncessantly approve The torturing effects of faithful Love. I find that Day it self shares in my pain The Air 's o'respread with Clouds the Earth with Rain That horrid Visions in my starting Sleep My Souls in their illusions tangled keep That all the apprehensions in my Head Are Madness by my feverish Passion bred That at husht midnight I imagine Storms And see a Ship-wrack in its dreadfull'st Forms Fall from the top of an high precipice Into the Jaws of an obscure Abyss And there a thousand ugly Serpents see Hissing t' advance their scaly Crests at me I cannot once dream of a false Delight But cruel Death straight seizes me in spite But when Heaven weary to have gone thus far Gives that I live under a better Star And when th' unconstant Stars by their chang'd power Present me for my Pains one happy hour My Soul will find it self chang'd at thy sight And of all past mishaps revenged quite Though in Nights Sleep my Spirits buried lay Thy sight my Dear would lend them beams of Day Thy Voice has over me the self same power With Zephyr's Breath over th' Earth's wither'd Flower The vigorous Springs makes all things fresh and new The blowing Rose puts on her blushing hue The Heavens more gay the Days more fair appear Aurora dressing to the Birds gives ear The wild Beasts of the Forrest free from Care Do feel their Bloud and Youth renewed are And naturally obedient to their Sense Without remorse their Pleasures recommence I only in the season all are blest With cruel and continual Griefs opprest Alone in Winter sad and comfortless See not the glorious Spring that we should blâ—ss I only see the Forrest fair forsook ' Th' Earths surface Desart and the frozen Brook And as if charm'd cannot once tast the Fruit That in this season to all Palats suit But when those Suns my adoration claim Shall with their Rays once reinforce my Flame My Spring will then return more sweet and fair By thousand times than those ' Heavens Lamp gives are If ever Fate allow mine Eyes that grace My Joys will transcend those of humane Race Nothing but that Oh Gods nothing but that Do I desire to baâ—â—le Death and Fate Out of Astrea MADRIGALL I Think I could my Passions sway Though great as Beauties power can move To such obedience as to say I cannot or I do not love But to pretend another Flame Since I adore thy conqu'ring Eye To thee and Truth were such a shame I cannot do it though I dye If I must one or th' other do Then let me die I beg of you Stanzes upon the Death of Cleon. Out of Astrea I. THE Beauty which so soon to Cinders turn'd By Death of her Humanity depriv'd Like Light'ning vanisht like the Bolt it burn'd So great this Beauty was and so short liv'd II. Those Eyes so practis'd once in all the Arts That loyal Love attempted or e'er knew Those fair Eyes now are shut that once the hearts Of all that saw their lustre did subdue III. If this be true Beauty is ravisht hence Love vanquisht droops that ever conquered And she who gave Life by her influence Is if she live not in my Bosom dead IV. Henceforth what happiness can Fortune send Since Death this abstract of all Joy has won Since Shadows do the Substance still attend And that our good does but our ill fore-run V. It seems my Cleon in thy rising morn That Destiny thy whole Days course had bound And that thy Beauty dead as soon as born It s fatal Hearâ—e has in its Cradle â—ound VI. No no thou shalt not die I Death will prove Who Life by thy sweet Inspiration drew If Lovers live in that which doth them love Thou liv'st in me who ever lov'd most true VII If I do live Love then will have it known That even Death it self he can controul Or as a God to have his Power shown Will that I live without of Heart or Soul. VIII But Cleon if Heav'ns unresisâ—ed will 'Point thee of Death th' inhumane Fate to try Love to that Fate equals my Fortune still Thou by my mourning by the Death I dye IX Thus did I my immortal Sorrows Breath Mine Eyes to Fountains turn'd of springing Woe But could not stay the wounding Hand of Death Lament but not lessen misfortune so X. When Love with me having bewail'd the loss Of this sweet Beauty thus much did express Cease cease to weep this mourning is too gross Our Tears are still than our misfortune less Song of the inconstant Hylas Out of Astrea I. IF one disdain me then I fly Her Cruelty and her Disdain And e'er the Morning guild the Sky Another Mistriss do obtain They err who hope by force to move A Womans Heart to like or love II. Iâ— oft falls out that they who in Discretion seem us to despise Nourish a greater Fire within Although perhaps conceal'd it lies Which we when once we quit our rooms Do kindle for the next that comes III. The faithful Fool that obstinatâ— Pursues a
she ickle Be she pious or ungodly Be she chaste or what sounds odly Lastly be she good or evil Be she Saint or be she Devil Yet uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife If fair she 's subject to temptation If foul her self 's solicitation If young and sweet she is too tender If old and cross no man can mend her If too too kind she 's over clinging If a true scold she 's ever ringing If blith find Fiddles or y'undoe her If sad then call a Casuist to her If a Wit she 'll still be jeering If a Fool she 's ever fleering If too wary then she 'll shrue thee If too lavish she 'll undoe thee If staid she 'll mope a year together If gadding then to London with her If true she 'll think you don 't deserve her If false a thousand will not serve her If lustfull send her to a Spittle If cold she is for one too little If she be of th' Reformation Thy House will be a Convocation If a Libertine then watch it At the window thou maist catch it If chaste her pride will still importune If a Whore thou know'st thy Fortune So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife These are all extremes I know But all Womankind is so And the Golden Mean to none Of that cloven Race is known Or to one if known it be Yet that one 's unknown to me Some Vlissean Traveller May perhaps have gone so sar As t' have found in spight of Nature Such an admirable Creature If a Voyager there be Has made that discovery He the fam'd Odcombian gravels And may rest to write his Travels But alas there 's no such woman The Calamity is common The first rib did bring in ruine And the rest have since been doing Some by one way some another Woman still is mischief's mother And yet cannot Man forbear Though it cost him ne'er so dear Yet with me 't is out of season To complain thus without reason Since the best and sweetest fair Is allotted to my share But alas I love her so That my love creates my woe For if she be out of humour Streight displeas'd I do presume her And would give the World to know What it is offends her so Or if she be discontented Lord how am I then tormented And am ready to persuade her That I have unhappy made her But if sick I then am dying Meat and Med'cine both defying So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife What are then the Marr'age Joys That make such a mighty noise All 's enclos'd in one short Sentence Little Pleasure great Repentance Yet it is so sweet a Pleasure To repent we scarce have leisure Till the pleasure wholly fails Save sometimes by Intervals But those intervals again Are so full of deadly pain That the pleasure we have got Is in Conscience too dear bought Pox on 't would Womankind be free What needed this Solemnity This foolish way of coupl'ing so That all the World forsooth must know And yet the naked truth to say They are so perfect grown that way That if 't only be for pleasure You would marry take good leisure Since none can ever want supplies For natural necessities Without exposing of his Life To the great trouble of a Wife Why then all the great pains taking Why the sighing why the waking Why the riding why the running Why the artifice and cunning Why the whining why the crying Why pretending to be dying Why all this clutter to get Wives To make us weary of our Lives If Fruition we profess To be the only happiness How much happier then is he Who with the industrious Bee Preys upon the several Sweets Of the various Flow'rs he meets Than he who with less delight Dulls on one his Appetite Oh 't is pleasant to be free The sweetest Miss is Liberty And though who with one sweet is bless'd May reap the sweets of all the rest In her alone who fair and true As Love is all for which we sue Whose several Graces may supply The place of full variety And whose true kindness or address Summs up the All of happiness Yet 't is better live alone Free to all than ti'd to one Since uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife ODE To Love. I. GReat Love I thank thee now thou hast Paid me for all my suff'rings past And wounded me with Nature's Pride For whom more glory 't is to die Scorn'd and neglected than enjoy All Beauty in the world beside II. A Beauty above all pretence Whose very scorns are recompence The Regent of my heart is crown'd And now the sorrows and the woe My Youth and Folly help'd me to Are buried in this friendly wound III. Led by my Folly or my Fate I lov'd before I knew not what And threw my thoughts I knew not where With judgment now I lvoe and sue And never yet perfection knew Untill I cast mine eyes on her IV. My Soul that was so base before Each little beauty to adore Now rais'd to Glory does despise Those poor and counterfeited rays That caught me in my childish days And knows no power but her eyes V. Rais'd to this height I have no more Almighty Love for to implorâ— Of my auspicious Stars or thee Than that thou bow her noble mind To be as mercifully kind As I shall ever faithfull be Song I. SAd thoughts make hast and kill me out I live too long in pain 'T is dying to be still in doubt And death that ends all miseries The chief and only favour is The wretched can obtain II. I have liv'd long enough to know That life is a Disease At least it does torment me so That Death at whom the happy start I court to come and with his Dart To give me a release III. Come friendly Death then strike me dead For all this while I die And but long dying nothing dread Yet beign with grief the one half slain With all thy power thou wilt gain But half a Victory Elegy AWay to th' other world away In this I can no longer stay I long enough in this have stai'd To see my self poorly betrai'd Forsaken robb'd and left alone And to all purposes undone What then can tempt me to live on My Peace and Honour being gone O yes I still am call'd upon To stay by my affliction Oh fair affliction let me go You best can part with me I know 'T is an ill natur'd pride you take To triumph o'er the fool you make And you loose time in trampling o'er One whilst you might make twenty more Your eyes have still the conqu'ring pow'r They had in that same dang'rous hour They laid me at your beauties feet Your Roses still as fair and sweet And there more hearts are to subdue But oh not one that 's half so true Dismiss me then t'eternal rest I cannot live but in your Breast Where banish'd by Inconstancy The world has
flat And make her squeeze to death her dying fraight Sometimes she on a Mountain's ridge would ride And from that height her gliding Keel then slide Into a Gulf yawning and deep as Hell Whilst we were swooning all the while we fell Then by another billow rais'd so high As if the Sea would dart her into th'Sky To be a Pinnace to the Argosie Then down a precipice so low and steep As it had been the bottom of the Deep Thus whilst we up and down and to and fro Were misâ—â—ably toss'd and bandi'd so 'T was strange our little Pink though ne'er so tight Could weather't so and keep her sâ—lf upright Or was not funk with weight of our despair For Hope alas could find no ank'ring there Her Prow and Poop Star-board and Lar-board side B'ing with these Elements so hotly pli'd 'T was no less than a Miracle her seams Not ripp'd and open'd and her very Beams Continu'd faithfull in these loud extremes That her tall Masts so often bow'd and bent With gust on gust were not already spent That all or any thing indeed withstood A Sea so hollow such a high wrought Floud Here where no Sea-man's Art nor strength avails Where use of Compass Rudder or of Sails There now was none the Mariners all stood Bloudless and cold as we or though they cou'd Something perhaps have help'd in such a stress Were ev'ry one astonish'd ne'ertheless To that degree they either had no heart Their Art to use or had forgot their Art. Meanwhile the miserable Passengers With sighs the hardest the more soft with tears Mercy of Heav'n in various accents crav'd But after drowning hoping to be sav'd How oft by fear of dying did we die And every death a death of cruelty Worse than worst Cruelties provok'd impose On the most hated most offending Foes We fansi'd death riding on every Wave And every hollow seem'd a gaping Grave All things we saw such horrour did present And all of dying too were so intent Ev'ry one thought himself already dead And that for him the tears he saw were shed Such as had not the courage to behold Their danger above deck within the Hosd Utter'd such groans in that their floating Grave As even unto terrour terrour gave Whilst those above pale dead and cold appear Like Ghosts in Charon's Boat that sailing were The last day's dread which none can comprehend But to weak fancy only recommend To form the dreadfull Image from sick fear That fear and fancy both were height'ned here With such a face of horrour as alone Was fit to prompt Imagination Or to create it where there had been none Such as from under Hatches thrust a head T' enquire what news seem'd rising from the dead Whilst those who stai'd above bloudless with fear And gastly look as they new risen were The bold and timorous with like horrour struck Were not to be distinguish'd by their look And he who could the greatest courage boast Howe'er within look'd still as like a Ghost Ten hours in this rude Tempest we were toss'd And ev'ry moment gave our selves for lost Heav'n knows how ill prepar'd for sudden death When the rough winds as they 'd been out of breath Now seem'd to pant and panting to retreat The Waves with gentler force against us beat The Sky clear'd up the Sun again shone bright And gave us once again new life and light We could again bear sail in those rough Seas The Sea-men now resume their offices Hope warm'd us now anew anew the heart Did to our cheeks some streaks of bloud impart And in two hours or very little more We came to Anchor Faulcon-shot from shoar The very same we left the Morn before Where now in a yet working Sea and high Untill the wind shall veere we rolling lie Resting secure from present fear but then The dangers we escap'd must tempt agen Which if again I safely shall get through And sure I know the worst the Sea can doe So soon as I shall touch my native Land â—'ll thence ride Post to kiss your Lordship's hand ODE IS' t come to this that we must part Then Heav'n is turn'd all cruelty And Fate has neither eyes nor heart Or else my Sweet it could not be She 's a blind Deity I 'm sure For woefull sights compassion move And Heav'nly minds could ne'er endure To persecute the truest love Love is the highest attribute Of pow'rs unknown we Mortals know For that all homage we commute From that all good and Mercies flow And can there be a Deity In those eternal seats above Will own so dire a Cruelty As thus to punish faithfull Love Oh Heav'nly Pow'rs be good and just Cherish the Law your selves have made We else in vain in Vertue trust And by Religion are betray'd Oh! punish me some other way For other sins but this is none Take all the rest you gave away But let my dearest Dear alone Strip me as into th' World I came I never shall dispute your will Or strike me dumb deaf blind or lame But let me have Chlorinda still Why was she given me at all I thought indeed the Gift too great For my poor Merit but withall I always knew to value it I first by you was worthy made Next by her choice let me not prove Blasphemous if I 'm not afraid To say most worthy by my love And must I then be damn'd from Bliss For valuing the Blessing more Be wretched made through Happiness And by once being rich more poor This Separation is alass Too great a punishment to bear Oh! take my life or let me pass That liâ—e that happy liâ—e with her O my Chlorinda couldst thou see Into the bottom of my heart There 's such a Mine of Love for thee The Treasure would supply desert Let the King send me where he please Ready at Drum and Trumpet 's call I 'll fight at home or cross the Seas His Soulder but Chlorinda's Thrall No change of Diet or of Air In me can a Distemper breed And if I fall it should be fair Since 't is her bloud that I 'm to bleed And sitting so I nothing fear A noble she of living fame And who shall then be by nay hear In my last groans Chlorinda's Name But I am not proscrib'd to die My Adversaries are too wise More rigour and less Charity Condemns me from Chlorinda's eyes Ah cruel Sentence and severe That is a thousand deaths in one Oh! let me die before I hear â— sound of Separation And yet it is decreed I see The Race of men are now combin'd Though I still keep the Body free To persecute a Loyal mind And that 's the worst that Man can doe To banish me Chlorinda's sight Yet will my heart continue true Maugre their power and their spight Mean while my Exit now draws nigh When Sweet Chlorinda thou shalt see That I have heart enough to die Not half enough to part with thee 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Paraphras'd
from Anacreon THe Earth with swallowing drunken showers Reels a perpetual round And with their Healths the Trees and Flowers Again drink up the Ground The Sea of Liquor spuing full The ambient Air doth sup And thirsty Phoebus at a pull Quaffs off the Ocean's cup. When stagg'ring to a resting place His bus'ness being done The Moon with her pale platter face Comes and drinks up the Sun. Since Elements and Planets then Drink an eternal round 'T is much more proper sure for men Have better Liquor found Why may not I then tell me pray Drink and be drunk as well as they On Christmas-day Hymn I. RIse happy Mortals from your sleep Bright Phospher now begins to peep In such apparel as ne'er dress'd The proudest day-break of the East Death's Sable Curtain 'gins disperse And now the blessed Morn appears Which has long'd and pray'd for him So many Centuries of years To defray th'arrears of sin Now through the joyfull Universe Beams of Mercy and of Love Shoot forth comfort from above And Choires of Angels do proclaim The Holy Iesus blessed Name II. Rise Sheepherds leave your Flocks and run The Soul 's great Sheepherd now is come Oh! wing your tardy feet and fly To greet this dawning Majesty Heaven's Messenger in tidings bless'd Invites you to the Sacred place Where the blessed Babe of Joy Wrapp'd in his Holy Father's Grace Come's the Serpent to destroy That lurks in ev'ry humane Breast To Iudah's Beth'lem turn your feet There you shall Salvation meet There in a homely Manger hurl'd Lies the Messias of the World. III. Riding upon the Morning's wings The joyfull Air Salvation sings Peace upon Earth tow'rds men good will Ecchoes from ev'ry Vale and Hill For why the Prince of Peace is come The glorious Infant who this Morn By a strange mysterious Birth Is of his Virgin Mother born To redeem the Seed of Earth From foul rebellious heavy doom Travel Magi of the East To adore this sacred Guest And offer up with reverence Your Gold your Myrrhe and Frankincense IV. At th'teeming of this Blessed Womb All Nature is one Joy become The Fire the Earth the Sea and Air The great Salvation do declare The Mountains skip with Joy's excess The Ocean 's briny billows swell O'er the surface of their Lands And at this Sacred Miracle Flouds do clap their liquid hands Joy's Inundation to express Babes spring in the narrow rooms Of their tender Mothers Wombs And all for Triumph of the Morn Wherein the Child of bliss was born V. Let each religious Soul then risâ— To offer up a Sacrifice And on the wings of Pray'r and Praise His gratefull heart to Heaven raise For this that in a Stable lies This poor neglected Babe is he Hell and Death that must controll And speak the blessed Word be free To ev'ry true believing Soul Death has no sting nor Hell no prize Through his Merits great whilst we Travel to Eternity And with the Blessed Angels sing Hosannah's to the Heav'nly King. Chorus RIse then O rise and let your voices Tell the Spheres the Soul rejoyces In Beth'lem this auspicious Morn The Glorious Son of God is born The Child of Glory Prince of Peace Brings Mercy that will never cease Merits that wipe away the sin Each Humane Soul was forfeit in And washing off the fatall stain Man to his Maker knits again Joyn then your gratefull Notes and sing Hosannah's to the Heav'nly King. Saphick Ode HOw easie is his Life and free Who urg'd by no necessity Eats chearfull Bread and over night does pay For 's next day 's Crapula No suitor such a mean estate Invites to be importunate No supple flatt'rer robbing Villain or Obstreperous Creditor This man does need no Bolts nor Locks Nor needs he start when any knocks But may on careless Pillow lie and snoar With a wide open door Trouble and Danger Wealth attend An usefull but a dang'rous Friend Who makes us pay e'er we can be releas'd Quadruple Interest Let 's live to day then for to morrow The Fool 's too provident will borrow A thing which through Chance or Infirmity 'T is odds he ne'er may see Spend all then e'er you go to Heaven So with the World you will make even And men discharge by dying Nature's score Which done we owe no more The Morning Quatrains I. THe Cock has crow'd an hour ago 'T is time we now dull sleep forgo Tir'd Nature is by sleep redress'd And Labour 's overcome by Rest. II. We have out-done the work of Night 'T is time we rise t' attend the Light And â—'er he shall his Beams display To plot new bus'ness for the day III. None but the slothfull or unsound Are by the Sun in Feathers found Nor without rising with the Sun Can the World's bus'ness e'er be done IV. Hark! Hark! the watchfull Chanticler Tells us the day's bright Harbinger Peeps o'er the Eastern Hills to awe And warn night's sov'reign to withdraw V. The Morning Curtains now are drawn And now appears the blushing dawn Aurora has her Roses shed To strew the way Sol's steeds must tread VI. Xanthus and Aethon harness'd are To roll away the burning Carr And snorting flame impatient bear The dressing of the Chariotier VII The sable Cheeks of sullen Night Are streak'd with Rosie streams of light Whilst she retires away in fear To shade the other Hemisphere VIII The merry Lark now takes her wings And long'd-for days loud wellcome sings Mounting her body out of sight As if she meant to meet the light IX Now doors and windows are unbar'd Each-where are chearfull voices heard And round about Good-morrows fly As if Day taught Humanity X. The Chimnies now to smoke begin And the old Wife sits down to spin Whilst Kate taking her Pail does trip Mulls swoln and stradl'ing Paps to strip XI Vulcan now makes his Anvil ring Dick whistles loud and Maud doth sing And Silvio with his Bugle Horn Winds an Imprime unto the Morn XII Now through the morning doors behold Phoebus array'd in burning Gold Lashing his fiery Steeds displays His warm and all enlight'ning Rays XIII Now each one to his work prepares All that have hands are Labourers And Manufactures of each trade By op'ning Shops are open laid XIV Hob yokes his Oxen to the Team The Angler goes unto the stream The Wood-man to the Purlews highs And lab'ring Bees to load their thighs XV. Fair Amarillis drives her Flocks All night safe folded from the Fox To flow'ry Downs where Collin stays To court her with his Roundelays XVI The Traveller now leaves his Inn A new days Journey to begin As he would post it with the day And early rising makes good way XVII The slick-fac'd School-boy Sachel takes And with slow pace small riddance makes For why the haste we make you know To Knowledge and to Vertue 's slow XVIII The Foreâ—horse gingles on the Road The Waggoner lugs on his Load The Field with busie People snies And City rings with various
Roof And striking Fire in the Air We Mortals call a shooting Star. XI That 's all the Light we now receive Unless what belching Vulcans give And those yield such a kind of Light As adds more horror to the Night XII Nyctimine now freed from day From sullen Bush flies out to prey And does with Feret note proclaim Th' arrival of th' usurping Dame. XIII The Rail now cracks in Fields and Meads Toads now forsake the Nettle-beds The tim'rous Hare goes to relief And wary Men bolt out the Theef XIV The Fire 's new rak't and Hearth swept clean By Madg the dirty Kitchin Quean The Safe is lock't the Mouse-trap set The Leaven laid and Bucking wet XV. Now in false Floors and Roofs above The lustful Cats make ill-tun'd Love The Ban-dog on the Dunghil lies And watchful Nurse sings Lullabies XVI Philomel chants it whilst she bleeds The Bittern booms it in the Reeds And Reynard entring the back Yard The Capitolian Cry is heard XVII The Goblin now the Fool alarms Haggs meet to mumble o're their Charms The Night-mare rides the dreaming Ass And Fairies trip it on the grass XVIII The Drunkard now supinely snores His load of Ale sweats through his Pores Yet when he wakes the Swine shall find A Cropala remains behind XIX The Sober now and Chast are blest With sweet and with refreshing rest And to sound sleeps they 've best pretence Have greatest share of Innocence XX. We should so live then that we may Fearless put off our Clotts and Clay And travel through Death's shades to Light For every Day must have its Night Ode GOOD night my Love may gentle rest Charm up your Senses till the Light Whilst I with Care and Woe opprest Go to inhabit endless Night There whilst your Eyes shall grace the Day I must in the despairing shade Sigh such a woful time away As never yet poor Lover had Yet to this endless Solitude There is one dangerous step to pass To one that loves your sight so rude As Flesh and Blood is loth to pass But I will take it to express I worthily your Favours wore Your merits Sweet can claim no less Who dyes for you can do no more Ode de Monsieur Racan INgrateful cause of all my harms I go to seek amidst Alarms My Death or Liberty And that 's all now I 've left to do Since cruel Fair in serving you I can nor live nor dye The King his Towns sees desart made His Plains with armed Troops o're-spread Violence do's controul All 's Fire and Sword before his Eyes Yet has he fewer Enemies Than I have in my Soul. But yet alas my hope is vain To put a period to my pain By any desperate ways ` T is you that hold my Life enchain'd And under Heaven you command And only you my days If in a Battel 's loud'st Alarms I rush amongst incensed Arms Invoking Death to take me Seeing me look so pale the Foe Will think me Death himself and so Not venture to attaque me In Bloody Fields where Mars doth make With his loud Thunder all to shake Both Earth and Heav'n to boot Mans pow'r to kill me I despise Since Love with Arrows from your Eyes Had not the Pow'r to doo 't No I must languish still unblest And in worst Torments manifest My firm Fidelity Or that my Reason set me free Since Fair in serving you I see I can nor live nor dye Contentation Directed to my Dear Father and most Worthy Friend Mr. Isaac Walton HEav'n what an Age is this what Race Of Giants are sprung up that dare Thus fiy in the Almighty's Face And with his Providence make War II. I can go no where but I meet With Malecontents and Mutineers As if in Life was nothing sweet And we must Blessings reap in Tears III. O senseless Man that murmurs still For Happiness and does not know Even though he might enjoy his Will What he would have to make him so IV. Is it true Happiness to be By undiscerning Fortune plac't In the most eminent Degree Where few arrive and none stand fast V. Titles and Wealth are Fortune's Toyls Wherewith the Vain themselves ensnare The Great are proud of borrow'd Spoils The Miser's Plenty breeds his Care. VI. The one supinely yawns at rest Th' other eternally doth toyl Each of them equally a Beast A pamper'd Horse or lab'ring Moyl VII The Tituladoâ—s oft disgrac'd By publick hate or private frown And he whose Hand the Creature rais'd Has yet a Foot to kick him down VIII The Drudge who would all get all save Like a brute Beast both feeds and lies Prone to the Earth he digs his Grave And in the very labour dies IX Excess of ill got ill kept Pelf Does only Death and Danger breed Whilst one rich Worldling starves himself With what would thousand others feed X By which we see what Wealth and Pow'r Although they make men rich and great The sweets of Life do often four And gull Ambition with a Cheat. XI Nor is he happier than these Who in a moderate estate Where he might safely live at case Has Lusts that are immoderate XII For he by those desires misled Quits his own Vine's securing shade T' expose his naked empty head To all the Storms Man's Peace invade XIII Nor is he happy who is trim Trick't up in favours of the Fair Mirrors with every Breath made dim Birds caught in every wanton snare XIV Woman man's greatest woe or bliss Does ofter far than serve enslave And with the Magick of a Kiss Destroys whom she was made to save XV. Oh fruitful Grief the World's Disease And vainer Man to make it so Who gives his Miseries encrease By cultivating his own woe XVI There are no ills but what we make By giving Shapes and Names to things Which is the dangerous mistake That causes all our Sufferings XVII We call that Sickness which is Health That Persecution which is Grace That Poverty which is true Wealth And that Dishonour which is Praise XVIII Providence watches over all And that with an impartial Eye And if to Misery we fall ` T is through our own Infirmity XIX ` T is want of foresight makes the bold Ambitious Youth to danger climb And want of Vertue when the old At Persecution do repine XX. Alas our Time is here so short That in what state soe're `t is spent Of Joy or Wo does not import Provided it be innocent XXI But we may make it pleasant too If we will take our Mâ—asures right And not what Heav'n has done undo By an unruly Appetite XXII ` T is Contentation that alone Can make us happy here below And when this little Life is gone Will lift us up to Heav'n too XXIII A very little satisfies An honest and a grateful heart And who would more than will suffice Does covet more than is his part XXIV That man is happy in his share Who is warm clad and cleanly fed Whose Necessaries bound
too arrogant T' enslave your Beauties and your will And cruelty in you to grant Who saving one must Thousands kill And yet you Women take a pride To see men dye by your disdain But thou wilt weep the Homicide When thou consideâ—'st whom th' ast slain Yet don't for being as I am Thy Creature thou in this estate To Life and Death hast equal claim And may'st kill him thou did'st create Then let me thine own Doom abide Nor once for him o'recast thine eyes Who gloriâ—s that he liv'd and dy'd Thy Lover and thy Sacrifice Sonnet WHY dost thou say thy Heart is gone And no more mine no more thine own But past retrieve for ever wed By sacred Vow t' anothers Bed Why dost thou tell me that I lye Bound in the same perplexed tye And that our now divided Souls Are cold and distant as the Poles Do'st thou not know when first our Loves Were plighted in the secret Groves Our hearts were chang'd with equal Flame Say Chloris then how can it be Could'st thou give me or I give thee No no our selves are still the same Sonnet HOW should'st thou love and not offend Why Cloris I will tell thee how As thou did'st once so love me now And lye with me and there 's an end Thou only art enjoyn'd my Sweet To keep thy Reputation high And that indeed is Secrecy Since all do err though all not see 't Then fairest fearless of all blame That sacred Treasure of thy Name Into my faithful Arms commit Thou once did'st trust me with thy Fame I then was just and true to it And Chloris I am still the same Sonnet CHloris whilst thou and I were free Wedded to nought but Liberty How sweetly happy did we live How free to promise free to give Then Monarch's of our selves we might Love here or there to change delight And ty'd to none with all dispence Paying â—ach Love its recompence But in that happy freedom we Were so improvidently free To give away our liberties And now in fruitful sorrow pine At what we are what might have bin Had thou or I or both been wise Sonnet WHY dost thou say thou lov'st me now And yet proclaim it is too late When bound by folly or by Fate Thou can'st no further grace allow Repeat no more that killing Voice Thou beauteous Victrice of my heart Or find a way to ease my smart Maugre thy now repented choice 'T is not too late to love and do What Love and Nature prompt thee to Whilst thus thou tryumph'st in thy prime Thou may'st discreetly love and use Those Pleasures thou did'st once refuse But to profess it were a Crime Poverty Pindarick Ode I. THou greatest Plague that Mortals know Thou greatest Punishment That Heav'n has sent To quell and humble us below Thou worst of all Diseases and all Pains By so much harder to endure By how much thou art hard to cure Who having rob'd Physitians of their brains As well as of their Gain A Chronical Disease doth still remain What Epithet can fit thee or what words thy ills explain II. This puzzles quite Aesculapian Tribe Who where there are no Fees can have no wit And make them helpless Med'cines still provide Both for the sick and poor alike unfit For inward griefs all that they do prepare Nothing but Crumbs and Fragments are And outwardly apply no more But sordid Rags unto the sore Thus Poverty is drest and Dose't With little Art and little Cost As if poor Rem'dies for the Poor were fit When Poverty in such a place doth sit That 't is the grand Projection only that must conquer it III. Yet Poverty as I do take it Is not so Epidemical As many in the world would make it Who all that want their wishes Poor do call For if who is not with his Divident Amply content Within that acceptation fall Most would be poor and peradventure all This would the wretched with the rich confound But I not call him Poor does not abound But him who snar'd in Bonds and endless strife The Comforts wants more than Supports of Life Him whose whole Age is measur'd out by fears And though he has wherewith to eat His Bread does yet Tast of affliction and his Cares â—is purest Wine mix and allay with Tears IV. 'T is in this sence that I am poor And I 'me afraid shall be so still â—bstrep'rous Creditors besiege my door And my whole House clamorous Eccho's fill From these there can be no Retirement free From Room to Room they hunt and follow me They will not let me eat nor sleep nor pray But persecute me Night and Day Torment my body and my mind Nay if I take my heels and fly They follow me with open Cry At Home no rest Abroad no Refuge can I find V. Thou worst of Ills what have I done That Heav'n should punish me with thee From Insolence Fraud and Oppression I ever have been innocent and free Thou wer 't intended Poverty A scourge for Pride and Avarice I ne're was tainted yet with either Vice I never in prosperity Nor in the height of all my happiness Scorn'd or neglected any in distress My hand my heart my door Were ever open'd to the poor And I to others in their need have granted E're they could ask the thing they wanted Whereas I now although I humbly crave it Do only beg for Peace and cannot have it VI. Give me but that ye bloody Persecutors Who formerly have been my suitors And I 'le surrender all the rest For which you so contest For Heav'ns sake let me but be quiet I 'le not repine at Cloths nor Diet Any habit ne'r so mean Let it be but whole and clean Such as Nakedness will hide Will amply satisfie my pride And for meat Husks and Acorns I will eat And for better never wish But when you will me better treat A Turnip is a Princely dish Since then I thus far am subdu'd And so humbly do submit Faith be no more so monstrous rude But some Repose at least permit Sleep is to Life and Humane Nature due And that alas is all for which I humbly sue Death Pindarick Ode I. AT a Melancholick season As alone I musing sate I fell I know not how to reason With my self of Man's Estate How subject unto Death and Fate Names that Mortals so affright As turns the brightest Day to Night And spoils of Living the Delight With which so soon as Life is tasted Lest we should too happy be Even in our Infancy Our joys are quash't our hopes are blasted For the first thing that we hear Us'd to still us when we cry The Nurse to keep the Child in fear Discreetly tell 's it it must dy Be put into a hole eaten with worms Presenting Death in thousand ugly forms Which tender minds so entertain As ever after to retain By which means we are Cowards bred Nurs't with unnecessary dread â—nd ever dream of dying 'till w' are dead II.
Passion My Star my bright Magnetick Pole And only Gâ—idress of my Soul. Thyr. Let Caelia be thy Cynosure Chloe's my Pole too though th' obscure For though her self 's all glorious My Earth 'twixt us does interpose Dam. Obscure indeed since she 's but one To mine a Constellation Her Lights throughout so glorious are That every part 's a perfect Star. Thyr. Then Caelia's Perfections Are scatter'd Chloe's like the Suns United Light compacted lye Whence all that feel their force must dye Dam. Caelia's Beauties are too bright To be contracted in one Light Nor does my fair her Rays dispence With such a stabbing Influence Since 't is her less imperious Will To save her Lovers and not kill Thyr. Each beam of her united Light Is than the greatest Star more bright And if she stay it is from hence She darts too sweet an Influence We Surfeit with 't weak Eyes must shun The dazling Glories of the Sun. Perhaps if Caelia do not kill 'T is want of Power not of Will. Dam. I now perceive thy Chloe's Eyes To be no Stars but Prodigies Comets such as blazing stand To threaten ruin to a Land Beacons of sulph'rous Flame they are Symptoms not of Peace but War And thou I guess by singing thus Thence stoll'st thine Ignis fatuâ—s Thyr. As th' vulgar are amaz'd at th' Sun When tripled by reflection Câ—loe's self and glorious Eyes To thee seem Comets in the Skies And true they may portend some Wars Such as 'twixt Venus and her Mars But chast whose captivating Bands Would People and not ruin Lands With such a Going fire I 'll stray For who with it can lose his way Dam. The Vulgar may perhaps be won By thee to think her Sun and Moon And so would I but that my more Convincing Caelia I adore Would we had both that Chloe thine And my dear Caelia might be mine But if we should thus mix with Ray In Heav'n would be no Night but Day For we should People all the Skies With Plannet-Girls and Starry-Boyes Chloe's a going-fire we see Pray Pan she do not go from thee Thyr. Thanks Damon but she does I fear The Shadows now so long appear Yet if she do we 'll both find Day â—'â—h ' Sun-shine of thy Caelia Her Sigh I. SHE sighs and has blown over now The storms that thrat'ned in her brow The Heaven 's now serene and clear And bashful blushes do appear Th' Errour sh' has found That did me wound Thus with her od'rous Sigh my hopes are crown'd II. Now she relents for now I hear Repentance whisper in my Ear Happy repentance that begets By this sweet Airy motion heats And does destroy Her Heresie That my Faith branded with Inconstancy III. When Thisbe's Pyramus was slain This sigh had fetcht him back again And such a sigh from Dido's Chest Wasted the Trojan to her Breast Each of her sighs My Love does prize Reward for thousand thousand Cruelties IV. Sigh on my Sweet and by thy Breath Immortal grown I 'll laugh at Death Had Fame so sweet a one we shou'd In that regard learn to be good Sigh on my Fair Henceforth I swear I could Cameleon turn and live by Air On the Lamented Death of my Dear Uncle Mr. Radcliff Stanhope SUch is th' unsteddy state of humane things And Death so certain that their period brings So frail is Youth and strength so sure this sleep That much we cannot wonder though we weep Yet since 't is so it will not misbecom Either perhaps our Sorrows or his Tomb To breath a Sigh and drop a mourning Tear Upon the cold face of his Sepulcher Well did his life deserve it if to be A great Example of Integrity Honour and Truth Fidelity and Love In such perfection as if each had strove T'out-do Posterity may deserve our care Or to his Funeral command a Tear Faithful he was and just and sweetly good To whom ally'd in Virtue or in Blood His Breast from other conversation chast Above the reach of giddy Vice was plac't Then had not Death that crops in 's Savage speed The fairest flower with the rankest weed Thus made a beastly Conquest of his Prime And cut him off before grown ripe for Time How bright an Evening must this Morn pursue Is to his Life a Contemplation due Proud Death t' arrest his thriving Virtue thus Unhappy Fate not to himself but us That so have lost him for no doubt but he Was fit for Heav'n as years could make him be Age does but muster Sin and heap up woes Against the last and general Rendezvous Whereas he dy'd full of obedient Truth Wrap't in his spotless Innocence of Youth Farewell Dear Vncle may thy hop'd for Bliss To thee be real as my Sorrow is May they be nam'd together since I do Nothing more perfect than my sorrow know And if thy Soul into mens minds have Eyes It knows I truly weep these Obsequies On the Lord Derby TO what a formidable greatness grown Is this prodigious Beast Rebellion When Sovereignty and it s so sacred Law Thus lies subjected to his Tyrant awe And to what daring impudence he grows When not content to trample upon those He still destroys all that with honest flames Of loyal Love would propagate their Names In this great ruin Derby lay thy Fate Derby unfortunately fortunate Unhappy thus to fall a Sacrifice To such an Irreligious Power as this And blest as 't was thy nobler sence to dye A constant Lover of thy Loyalty Nor is it thy Calamity alone Since more lye whelm'd in this Subversion And first the justest and the best of Kings Roab'd in the glory of his Sufferings By his too violent Fate inform'd us all What tragick ends attended his great fall Since when his Subjects some by chance of War Some by perverted justice at the Bar Have perish't thus what th' other leaves this takes And who so scapes the Sword falls by the Axe Amongst which throng of Martyrs none could boast Of more fidelity than the world has lost In losing thee when in contempt of spite Thy steddy faith at th'exit crown'd with Light His Head above their malice did advance They could not murder thy Allegiance Not when before those Iudges brought to th'test Who in the symptomes of thy ruin drest Pronounc't thy Sentence Basilisks whose Breath Is killing Poyson and whose Looks are Death Then how unsafe a Guard Man's virtue is Iâ— this false Age when such as do amiss Controul the honest sort and make a prey Of all that are not villanous as they Does to our Reasons Eyes too plain appear In the mischance of this Illustrious Peer Blood-thirsty Tyrants of usurped State In facts of Death prompt and insatiate That in your Flinty Bosoms have no sence Of Manly Honour or of Conscience But do since Monarchy lay drown'd in Blood Proclaim 't by Act high Treason to be good Cease yet at last for shame let Derby's fall Great and good Derby's expiate for all
ships calk't ribs can quench that heat Nor thy Disdains which colder are Than Climats of the Northern Star Can freeze the Blood warm'd by thine Eye But Sweet I must thy Martyr dye II. 〈◊〉 canst thou know that losing thee â—he Vniverse is dead to me â—â—d I to it yet not become 〈◊〉 kind as to revoke my Doom â—â—â—tle Heart do if I remove â—ow can I hope t' atchieve thy love â—â—ot I shall 't a blessing call 〈◊〉 she who wounds may see my fall III. 〈◊〉 say thou lov'st and bid me go â—here never Sun his Face did show 〈◊〉 to what 's worse want of thy Light â—hich dissipates the shades of Night â—o dangers Death Hell dares not own â—â—â—cely to Apprehension known â—m'd with thy Will despite of Fear â— seek them as if Thou wer 't there IV. 〈◊〉 if thou wilt I dye and that 〈◊〉 worse than thousand deaths thy hate When I am dead if thou but pay My Tomb a Tear and sighing say Thou do'st my timeless fall deplore Wishing th' had'st known my Truth before My Dearest Dear thou mak'st me then Or sleep in peace or live again To my friend Mr. Lely on his Picturâ— of the Excellently Virtuous Lady tâ—â— Lady Isabella Thynn NAture and Art are here at strife This Shadow comes so neer the Life Sit still Dear Lely th' hast done that Thy self must love and wonder at What other Ages â—'er could boast Either remaining yet or lost Are trivial toys and must give place To this that counterfeits her face 〈◊〉 I 'll not say but there have been 〈◊〉 every past Age Paintings seen â—oth Good and Like from every Hand 〈◊〉 once had Maistry and command 〈◊〉 none like her Surely she sate â—â—y Pencil thus to celebrate â—bove all others that could claim 〈◊〉 Eccho from the voice of Fame â—or he that most or with most cause â—eaks or may speak his own applause â—â—n't when he shows his Master-peice 〈◊〉 he e're did a Face like this â—â—his thy chance to be the Man â—one but who shares thy honour can 〈◊〉 such another do arise â—o steal more glory from her Eyes 〈◊〉 't would improvident bounty show â—o hazard such a Beauty so â—â—s strange thy Iudgment did not err 〈◊〉 want a Hand beholding her â—â—ose awing Graces well might make â—â—ssured'st Pencil to mistake To Her and Truth then what a crime To Vs to all the World and Time Who most will want her copy 't were To have it then unlike appear But she 's preserved from that Fate Thou know'st so well to imitate And in that Imitation show What Oyl and Colour mixt can do So well that had this Piece the grace Of motion she and none else has Or if it could the Odour breathe That her departing sighs bequeath And had her warmth it then would be Her glorious Self and none but she So well 't is done But thou canst go No farther than what Art can do And when all 's done this thou hast made Is but a nobler kind of Shade And thou though thou hast play'd thy part A Painter no Creator art To Chloris ODE FArewel My Sweet until I come Improv'd in Merit for thy sake With Characters of Honour home Such as thou canst not then but take To Loyalty my love must bow My Honour too calls to the Field Where for a Ladies busk I now Must keen and sturdy Iron wield Yet when I rush into those Arms Where Death and Danger do combine I shall less subject be to harms Than to those killing Eyes of thine Since I could live in thy Disdain Thou art so far become my Fate That I by nothing can be slain Until thy Sentence speaks my Date But if I seem to fall in War T' excuse the murder you commit Be to my Memory just so far As in thy Heart t' acknowledg it That 's all I ask which thou must give To him that dying takes a pride It is foâ— thee and would not live Sole Prince of all the world beside Taking Leave of Chloris I. SHE sighs as if she would restore The Life shâ— took away before As if she did recant my Doom And sweetly would reprieve me home Such hope to one condemn'd appears From every whisper that he hears But what do such vain hopes avail If those sweet sighs compose a gale To drive me hence and swell my sail II. See see she weeps who would not swear That Love descended in that Tear Boasting him of his wounded prize Thus in the bleeding of her Eyes Or that those Tears with just pretence Would quench the fire that came from thence But oh they are which strikes me dead Christal her frozen Heart has bred Neither in Love nor Pitty shed III. Thus of my merit jealous grown â—â—y happiness I dare not own But wretchedly her favous wear Blind to my self unjust to her Whose sighs and tears at least discover She pitties if not loves her Lover And more betrays the Tyrant's skill Than any blemish in her will That thus laments whom she doth kill IV. Pitty still Sweet my dying state My Flame may sure pretend to that Since it was only unto thee I gave my Life and Liberty Howe're my Life's misfortune 's laid By Love I'm Pitties object made Pitty me then and if thou hear I 'm dead drop such another tear And I am paid my full arrear ODE I. COme let us drink away the time A pox upon this pelting Rhyme When Wine 's run high Wit 's in the prime II. Drink and stout drinkers are true joys Odes Sonnets and such little toys Are exercises fit for Boys III. Then to our Liquor let us sit Wine makes the Soul for Action â—it Who bears most drink has the most wit. IV. The whining Lover that does place His wonder in a painted Face And wasts his substance in the chace V. Could not in Mâ—lancholy pine Had he Affections so divine As once to fall in love with Wine VI. The Gods themselves their revels keep And in pure Nectar tipple deep When slothful Mortals are asleep VII They fudled once for recreation In Water which by all relation Did cause Deucalions Inundation VIII The spangled Globe as it held most Their Bowl was with Salt-water dos't The Sun-burnt Centre was the Toast IX In drink Apollo always chose His darkest Oracles to disclose 'T was Wine gave him his Ruby-Nose X. The Gods then let us imitate Secure of Fortune and of Fate Wine Wit and Courage does create XI Who dares not drink 's a wretched Wight Nor can I think that Man dares fight All day that dares not drink all night XII Fill up the Goblet let it swim In foam that overlooks the brim He that drinks deepest here 's to him XIII Sobriety and Study breeds Suspition of our Thoughts and Deeds The down-right Drunkard no Man heeds XIV Let me have Sack Tobacco store A Drunken Friend a Little Wh re Protector I will ask no more ODE I. THE Day is set did Earth
Thus did I fare and acceptable pass To all and thus a lusty Suiter was And only so For Nature my strong Brest In Modesty and Chastity had drest For whilst I strove the choices Fair to wed I wore out Cold ev'n to a Widdow'd Bed. They all to me ill bred or ugly seem'd And I none worthy my Embraces deem'd I hated lean ones fat were a Disease Neither the low nor yet the tall would please With middle Forms I ever lov'd to play And in the midst most Graces ever lay Here of our softest parts lies all the bliss And in this part Loves Mother seated is A slender Lass not lean I lov'd to chuse For Flesh is fittest for a â—leshy use One whose most strait Embraces would delight Not one whose Bones should goar my Ribs in Fight I lov'd no Fair unless her Cheeks were spread With native Roses of the purest red This Tincture Venus owns above the rest And loves the Beauty in her Flower drest A long white Neck and golden flowing Hair Have long been known to make a Woman fair But black Brows and black Eyes catch my Desire And still when seen have set my Heart of fire I ever lov'd a red and swelling Lip Where a full Bowl of Kisses I might sip A long round Neck than Gold appear'd more rare And the most wealthy Gem outshone by far Ill fits it Age to speak his wanton prime And what was decent then is now a Crime For various things do diff'rent Men delight Nor yet are all things for all Ages right Things apt for one Age at the last may grow Uncomely for the self-same Man to do The Child by play th' old Man 's by stead'ness seen But the young Man's Behaviour lies between This silent sadness best becomes and that Is better lik'd of for his Mirth and Chat For rolling times does all things turn and sway And suffers none to run one certain way Now that a long unprofitable Age Lies heavy on me I would quit the Stage Life's hard Condition gripes the Wretched still Nor is Death sway'd by any humane Will. The Wretch wishes to die but Death retires Yet when Men dread him then the Slave aspires But I alass that maâ—gre all my Arts Have been so long dead in so many parts On Earth I think shall never end my Days But enter quick the dark Tartarean ways My Tast and Hearing 's ill mine Eyes are such Nay I can scarce distinguish by my Touch No Smell is sweet nor Pleasure who 'd believe A Man could sensibly his Sense out live Lethe's Oblivion does my Mind embrace And yet I can remember what I was The Limbs diseas'd the Mind no Work contrives The thought of ills all other aim deprives I sing no Lyricks now that dear Delight With all my Voices Grace is perish'd quite Frequent no Exercise no Odes rehearse And only with my Pains and Griefs converse The Beauty of my Shape and Face are fled And my revolted Form ' fore-speaks me dead For fair and shining Age has now put on A bloodless Funeral Complexion My Skin 's dry'd up my Nerves unpliant are And my poor Limbs my Nails plow up and tear My chearful Eyes now with a constant Spring Of Tears bewail their own sad Suffering And those soft Lids that once secur'd mine Eye Now rude and bristled grown does drooping lie Bolting mine Eyes as in a gloomy cavâ— Which there on Furies and grim Objects rave 'T would fright the full-blown Gallant to behold The dying Object of a Man so old Nor can you think that once a Man he was Of humane reason who no portion has The Letters split when I consult my Book And ev'ry Leaf I turn'd does broader look In Darkness do I dream I see the Light When Light is Darkness to my perish'd Sight Without a Night t'oreshade him the bright Day Is from my Sense depriv'd and snatch'd away Who can deny that wrap'd in Nights Embrace I groping lie in the Tartarean place What mad Adviser would a Man perswade By his own Wish to be more wretched made Diseases now invade and Dangers swarm Sweet Banquets now and Entertainments harm We 're forc'd to wean our selves from grateful things And though we live avoid the sweets Life brings And me whom late no accident could bend Now the meer Aliments of Life offend I would be full am sick when I am so Should fast but abstinence is hurtful too 'T is chang'd to surfeit now what once was Meat And that 's now nauseous which before was sweet Venus and Bacchus's Rites now fruitless are That use to lull this Life's contingent Care. Nature alone panting and prosâ—rate lies Caught in the ruin of her proper Vice. Julip nor Cordial now no Comfort give Nor ought that should a Patient sick relieve But with their Matter their Corruption have And only serve to importune my Grave When I attempt to prop my falling Frame The Letts oppos'd make my Endeavours lame Until my Dissolutions tardy day All helps of Arts do with the thing decay And by th' appearance since th' afflicted Mind Can no diversion nor advantage find 〈◊〉 it not hard we may not from Mens Eyes Cloak and conceal Ages Indecencies Unseeming Spruceness th' old Man discommends And in old Men only to live offends With Mirth Feasts Songs the old must not dispense â—O wretched they whose Joys are an offence What should I do with Wealth whose use being ta'ne Although I swim in store I poor remain Nay 't is a Sin to what we have got to trust And what 's our own to violate unjust So thirsty Tantalus the neighbour Stream And Fruit would tast but is forbidden them I but the Treas'rer am of my own Pelf Keeping for others what 's deny'd my self And like the Fell Hesperian Dragon grown Defend that golden Fruit's no more my own This above all is that augments my Woes And robs my troubl'd Mind of all Repose I strive to keep things I could never gain And ignorantly hold some things in vain Continu'd Fears do credulous age invade And th' old Man dreads the ills himself has made Applauds the past condemns the present Years And only what he thinks Truth Truth appears He only learned is has all the skill And thinking himself wise is wider still Who though with Trouble he much Talk affords Faulters forgets and dribbles out his Words The Hearer's tir'd but he continues long O wretched Age only in prating strong Idly he talks and strains his feeble Voice Whilst those he pleas'd before laugh at his noise Their Mirth exalts him he still louder grows And dotingly his own Reproach allows These are Death's Firstlings Age does this way flow And with slow pace creeps to the Shades below Whilst the same Colour Meen nor pace appear In the poor Traveller that lately vvere My Garment from my vvither'd Limbs hangs down And vvhat before too short too long is grovvn We strangely are contracted and decrease A Man vvould think our very