Ensigns of Mortality Reposited with cost and care Like China-ware To be rais'd up more shining and more fair How great and stately are the Tombs For noble Guests it 's fit to have such noble Rooms And t is but just that so great state Attend their Fate Who liv'd in Palaces when dead In Palaces are buried Nor is this all If you will look on that Historic Wall You 'l into admiration fall That we no Chronicles of those times need If we but these Inscriptions read Each Epitaph's a spatious page And tells the great remarks of its own age The noble Acts of all these worthies here With Englands acts so complicated were As each was the Intelligence to Brittain's Sphear Most fit Records such glorious Names to hold Whose Leaves are Marble and whose Ink is Gold There is no fitter place to bid Farewel Than in this blessed Cell Where free from vexing cares Thy noble Ancestors thou and thine Heirs Can only dwell With my great Theme inspir'd And with Poetick fury fir'd Another Prophecy I frame None of thine here shall come As none yet hither came 'Till they made up the total sum Of Honour and of Fame And only with the World shall end thine Honour and thy Name FINIS * M. W. * M. D. * D. T. * Of whom 't is feign'd the Centaur was gotten * Brutus slew the Tyrant and ‖ Curtius to expiate Romes guilt leapt into a Gulph ‖ Witness E. Essex Sir Hen. Mildmay c. ‖ His Slave * Call'd the Duce An. ‖ As the Monks fable one did there every Christmas-day as well as in May. ‖ S. Hierom. ‖ Plant-Animal * A famous Robber * Imprisoned long by the Rebels at Nottingham vid. * A rich sort of Furr Let some of our fam'd Poets and their Consciences be here examined One noted Poet his Panegyrick upon Oliver * He fir'd it and then laid it on the Christians ‖ Kings are esteem'd Gods but dye like men * That Villain drew the Armies Remonstrance which was the moving cause of the KING's Death * On its Summit is a hollow fire Called Celdico ‖ A flying Horse * A Rhymeing Presbyterian ‖ A Trumpeter to Rebellion in his Nec habeo nec careo nec curo a Book of his in Rhyme Vid. his famous Panegyric * A Rhymeing Presbyterian †Since Ptolomy took its height 1400 years ago its height is declin'd 30 minutes ‖ By trying him to hard and base Conditions as to take the Covenant ‖ Fulfill'd truly and justly * At the Battel of Worcester ‖ Not seldome used by that Crown ‖ King of Spain ‖ Another Prophecy fulfill'd ‖ A Man of War made and so called by Oliver ‖ Ericus * Five petty Kings rowed his Barge over the Dee * Our Admiral ‖ They yearly espouse the Sea by casting in a Ring * His Act of Oblivion ‖ Related by G. Sandys in his Travels * A Star appeard at his Birth ‖ Taken when Oxford was deliver'd and imprisoned in ‖ Escaped thence by help of ‖ Cambyses Stately Palaces of the E. of Devonshire's built by Elizab. Countess of Shrewsbury in an Qu. Eliz. His Eldest Son a most hopeful Gentlem tho miserable in his after Years Sir Clifford Clifton Having lost in the late Wars 80 thousand l. at least He died of the Torments of the Stone Who order'd all his Nobles after his Death to be murder'd so that it might be attended with general sorrow He went to assist the King about sixteen Years old We were worsted at Rheez by France but came most gloriously off at Tercera against Spain * Where Bucking was born one of Sir G. V. his Lordships ‖ A Tribute of their children whence are made the Spachi and Ianizaries the strength of the Turks Nebuchadonezer Procrustes Vid. Heylins Cosmogr pag. He leapt at one leap backward and forward 7 yards now mark't out in M. T. Cic. The 〈◊〉 The Hill on which the Castle stands Servants Names
no good Our Veins are stufft with Coral not with Blood To be i' th' Rain the Service now 's as hot As 'twixt two Armies joyn'd each drop's a shot Each Hail a Bullet shot with ratling noise And Snow white-Powder silently destroys If now our sheep lye down upon the Grass You 'd swear how each a Boronetho was And there took rooting for thus fixt they show Like snowy Hillocks or like breathing Snow Fish freeze i' th' Deeps and think 't a happy lot Now to be caught and put into a Pot. And Hares ev'n frozen in their Forms do lye As they had put themselves into a Pye Nature 's inslav'd her very Breath confin'd Her Lungs are stopt and cannot gather Wind. Sometimes she 's raging mad and fiercely blows Foaming and Froathing all the Earth with Snows Those downy show'rs appear which Boreas brings As though the moulting Clouds had mew'd their wings What else is Snow but feather'd drizzel blown Fro' th' Sky where their swift Pinnions late had flown No other flights than these now haunt the Air Till lym'd with frost they 're forc'd to tarry here The Air 's so thick it does like th' Dead-Sea flow Where Birds with feather'd Oars can scarcely row And hollow Clouds ramm'd full as they can bear Discharge Hail-shot in Volleys through the Air. Those Dew-drops that upon the Earth are found Right Pearls they are and pave the glitt'ring ground Wherever any grassy Turf is view'd It seems a Tansie all with Sugar strew'd The Sea is one great Blister till the Sun Pierce the thick skin and make the Water run 'T was ne'r the Sun's right Looking-Glass before Ice is the Chrystal lin'd with silver Oar. Bold Brittain if but to her self a Friend All the World else seeks vainly her t' offend Safe-bulwarkt with two Walls that fates do grant With those of Wood and these of Adamant Ladies now testifie what Poets told True Pearls they weep Silver they void and Gold But ah for all these Comforts they are cold We Men grow stiff no punishment is worse When former blessings turn a horrid curse Love cools nay burning Lust is frozen dead As cooling Metals lose their shining Red. The Nuptial sheets ev'n freez into a Tomb And Lovers their own statues there become If some small Thaw from Nature's warmth appears The aid is comfortless that ends in Tears The SHRYNE 1665. Vpon seeing her in a Scarlet-Velvet-Mantle AVrora thus begins to rise When she with Crimson trims the Skies But her weak beams are conquer'd soon Yours Madam triumph o're the Sun Too fiercely they our Eyes assail'd If Moses-like you were not veild Infolded there your sweets make good You are a Damask-Rose i' th' bud Roses when they lay by their leaves Those Velvet-Mantles Nature gives Lose their chief Vertue all confess You are most sweet without your Dress Yet since we use with reverence A Carkass when the Soul 's flown thence And when obedience here was shown They honour'd Courts though Kings were gone Let us when we her presence want Adore the Shrine that held the Saint Divines affirm our Churches are Sacred for th' Service offer'd there Rich Mantle when thou her dost fold Thou art the Mine and she the Gold Nature's Exchequer where does lye The total of her Treasury The Zodiac never did intwine More Beauties than are clos'd in thine From her it takes the dazling Grace The Sun-beams shine so through a Glass Thus the expanded Chrystal Skies That both inlight and bless our Eyes Yet serve but as a glorious Skreen For greater beauties are within Nor is it vain to praise the Shell And not the Pearl that there does dwell It is enough if here my Muse Can do but as our Ladies use When they on Limons set their minds And only Candy o're the Rinds The KISS 1656. To Mrs. C. HOLD not your Lips so close dispence Treasures Perfumes and Life from thence Squeeze not those full-ripe Cherries this Becomes a Simper not a Kiss There 's danger to lock up your Breath It Cousin-German is to Death None baggs up wind the Merchant swears Unless some wrinkled Laplanders What needs this Guard it is small sence Thus to hedge in a double Fence Clos'd Lips express but silent Blisses And at the best are but dumb Kisses You are with Cupid little kind To make him Dumb as well as Blind Such Smacks but shew a silent state Kisses should be articulate An open-mouthed Kiss speaks sence It is the Lovers eloquence Let yours speak out then there 's no Bliss To th' Pronuntiation of a Kiss The SCANDAL 1656. Vpon Mrs. K. C. raising one HOW now mad Kitling peevish Brat Canst thou no sooner see than scrat That all who see thee justly doubt Alecto in her Swathing-clout Feat early Mischief tell me why Thou sought'st to wound me with this lie What 's my offence is it not this Because I do no oftner kiss What Fool would do himself the wrong To venture half so near thy Tongue Far worse than Snakes or Adders are Thou dangers dost at both ends bear Thou' rt worse than Scorpions who bring A cure themselves for those they sting But thou' rt all o're with Venom smear'd Thy very Looks are to be fear'd Not that thy Glances have a spice Of Venus but of Cockatrice Nor boast thy Flaxen Curls they be As well signs of a Leprosie That Rock of Tow upon thy Head Prove there are Poyson-pates not Red. The Vertues of CANARY 1656. Tune Isaac's Balls To Mr. G. H. SAck will make a Coward Fight And his Humour vary It will infuse a Nobler Sp'rite Than great Hector's did carry Nay it so will play its part He had rather spill a Quart Of Blood than of Canary Sack makes the daring Seaman wise And resolute as Phocion Not all the Artillery of the Skies Can make him alter his brave motion Tho' Tempests rage and Thunder crack Let him be drowned first in Sack And a Fico for the Ocean If you would have a Doctor wise Bestow on him a Pottle All Wisdom in the Bottom lies No Helicon unto the Bottle And when he can pour down no more He will upon his Knees adore Bacchus above Aristotle Sack can make an Alderman wise And venture at a Ditty 'T will make a Beggar 's thoughts to rise Let his shirt be ne'r so Nitty It can make sweet the crabbed face Of Sergeants and controul their Mace And melt the Rogues to pitty If one have but a spark of Wit Sack will quickly show it And in troth I think it fit By my example you should know it For as once my Lord Gray said I this fine new-sing-song made But Sack made me the Poet. The DELUGE 1657. Vpon the Death of R. Sanderson Esq by the Eruption of a Vein SAD Deluge this what could no Art restrain Nor stop th' o'rflowing Chanal of a Vein A Flood in Harvest thus destroys the hopes Of all the Year and spoils the fruitful Crops Blest Nilus thou deserv'st
nib bits of Gold from Crashaw's Lines But swoop whole Strikes together from his Mynes Unconscionable thief than Hind far worse To rob one both of Money and of Purse Thou of thy Brethren-Taxers get'st the start In taking more than th' five and twentieth part Like to those Fiends we Sequestrators call Thy stretching Conscience goes away with all Arch piece of Robbery Gigantick knack To take both Goods and House too on thy back Quote Scripture for 't as for Rebellion say Sampson in Gaza took the Gates away Thy Muse Philira like is turn'd a Mare And by his Pegasus is cover'd here Unnat'ral Coupling this as e're did pass As if his Pegasus should leap an Ass Like a Drum-major he with Zeal appears Beating his Pulpit to get Volunteers Thy Black-coat furious Iehu most men think Takes colour from thy Powder not thine Ink And thy Dragooning Genius has a share More in Salt-peter than Saint Peter's Chair How much the Cause owes to this Braves command Who taught Rebellion both with Tongue and Hand As Balaam of his Ass he learnt this Trick Of some such Colt both for to whee and kick A Preacher Captain Thief and Poet view A Iack of all Trades and of all Sides too But Mar-text how dost thou declare thine hate In joyning Poets with the Bishops Fate To rail at Poets but to steal their strains To hate the Bishops but to love their means Did parted Souls as some have held but know Those things are done by their left friends below Think'st thou deceased Pierpont likes such Verse As thou hast filch'd here to adorn his Herse Judge but how such an Act thy self would scan A Thief subscribe thee for an Honest Man The OLD MAN 1658. An Epitaph upon my Gr. Mr. T. S. HERE lies an aged Corps which late Incag'd a Soul whom neither fate Nor Times could change from its first State Opprest more with Age than cares Respected more for Silver hairs Than Gold for Wisdom more than Years Happy in every Child he had Happy in self and only sad Being born in good days but deceas'd in bad The MOURNER 1659. Vpon the Death of my dear Father Mr. W. S. LET not the ranting Crew explode my Tears Nor stop my sighings with their Mocks and Jeers Such as lament in Sack for Father's dying 'Till Eyes look red then swear it came with crying Who to the Church such modish Mourners come As if they meant to revel o're the Tomb. I leave that road so that I now forbear To strew his Grave but with a gaudy tear For Drops of Ink are so that do distill From a luxuriant or too trim a Quill Nor let some think the grief is small where time And such Composure is to build a Rhyme Since David's Muse did never higher rise Than when it took its fountain from his Eyes And if in these Lines any Life can be Or can transmit it to Posterity 'T is but a just endeavour Life to give To that lov'd Person who did make me live Not that I think this power in my Verse The common Hatchment now of every Herse But in his Vertues which they would declare These give the life of which those hope a share For thus a Pen that limms a good man's story Improves its own well as the subjects glory So every Duty is a Benefit And gains a blest reward for doing it I wish I could his Vertues imitate And praise together such a lucky fate Befell that Orator who as he stood Praising his vertuous Friend himself turn'd good His Zeal to God and Church glow'd with that heat First Christians us'd without the modern cheat Loyal to 's Prince without the hope of gains And constant too in midst of loss and chains His Prayers were fervent and his Faith was strong Still hop'd although Rebellion prosper'd long At length the storm blew o're the skyes did clear And light begun to gild our Hemisphere His breast with publick joy so over-flow'd His Soul was forc'd to leave its old aboad Yet like the dying Swan he tun'd his knell And with old Simeon sung his own farewell Thus the long look'd-for Prospect Moses gain'd He saw but ne're injoy'd the Promis'd Land Wit 's EPICEDIUM 1659. Epitaph upon Mr. J. Cleveland HERE lies great Cleveland whom 't is fit To name the Phoenix of true Wit His Fate suits sadly with the name Since he expired in a Flame A Fever hence this fate did come The Muses suffer'd Martyrdom He like the Phoenix dy'd Alas Not like the Phoenix bury'd was Since with the Gums of his own Stile He did not build himself a Pyle The DIVINE 1659. Vpon Dr. Huit's Death by Cromwel RAsh times and men to hurry hence What Ages cannot recompence For by his timeless death we lost The rarities of holy cost He try'd all Learning and from thence Did cull the perfect quintescence Hence was his Tongue with Essence tipt His Lips in heavenly Nectar dipt He pleas'd the Mind and eas'd the Heart His Sermons twisted Grace and Art His Zeal was learn'd he could intice A man with pleasure from a Vice Those who did hear his Sermons right And practis'd grew good with delight He heard his Sentence with that chear That upstart Lords their Titles hear Let Traitors quake with crimes opprest Let guilt raise Earthquakes in their Breasts Let a rebellious Ague seize Their bloods and Horrour turn disease Let such ones tremble Glorious Soul Thou dost thine envious fate controul What Coward arm'd with thy sure Ward Need fear a Tower or a Guard Halberds and Troops taâ—n in right sence Serv'd but to guard thine Innocence Thy Cause and Spirit makes us vow Thy Iudges suffer'd and not thou Their bloody Sentence to their spight More then their Pardon did thee right The Axe cut them and once they 'l know They had by far the worser blow Thy rising Soul was then more tall When others stoop just at thy fall Sol biggest is when he does come To rest thus in his Western home In Seas he sets and thou in tears Thine Ocean far more deep appears And when thou dost in Glory rise Thy beams will daze their blood-shot Eyes The ADAMITE 1659. Vpon the loss of a Ladies Linnens all her Shifts and Cloaths being stollen ADam of temper'd Clay was rais'd His Body with rich Linnen cas'd An earthen Vessel finely glas'd But Eve was of a purer frame She from compleated Adam came From the young Sun so shin'd the Flame To him she seem'd a glorious sight Her very Nakedness was bright Thus is the Moon skin'd o're with light Her Innocence no Coverings had 'T was Guilt did cause the Fig-leaf shade As Beams are hid by Clouds they made Besides the Spring-time now invites Nature to bless our wondring sights With her rare Closet of Delights Lillies those Virgins of the year Their Snowy Bosoms now appear Each opening her lac'd Stomacher Tulips start from their Winter-beds Unfolding their thick Coverlids Lie bare and shew
their Maiden-heads Roses although with blushes born Their green-silk Plackets now are torn And shew their beauties to the Morn Your Hand faire Lady then hold by Or kindly let my searching Eye Through th' Lattice of your Fingers pry The Russian Empress need not fear If Cold or shame would Coverings wear She 's cloath'd with native Miniver The ARCHTRAITOR 1659. Vpon the Death of Oliver Cromwell THE Muses like the Cavaleers confin'd For Wit and Loyalty are best when joyn'd Have now their liberty the time affords Poets to use their Pens and those their Swords The Tyrant knew by both he might be harm'd So Playes he voted down and them disarm'd For he did doubt whether more hurt might rise Or from the Standish or the Mortar-piece Arm'd against Swords but not 'gainst Cleveland's Quill More sharp than Porcupines it pierc'd his Steel T was try'd of old when feather'd Arrows flew They far more Foes than all our Cannons slew 'T was this made him so cautiously severe Poets and Souldiers tam'd he did not fear But all his cruel Policies were vain Mastiffs are much the fiercer for the Chain Helicon rougher runs when 't is disturb'd And Pegasus kicks more for being curb'd Who did his Provant and his Curb neglect Nor would those clear Streams his grim looks reflect 'T is true a Slave or two to shew his face Made Stix not Helicon his Looking-Glass Their Turkish Souls and fancies were so vain To serve as Footstools to that Tamberlane Their mercenary Bays as largely spread Upon the Tyrant's as the Prince's head Base that in verse Rebellion should appear As though Apollo were turn'd Presbyter As th' Muses stirred up by zealous wrath Should lend their Treasures to the Publick Faith Wretches who if they live to better days May merit Hempen Wreaths instead of Bayes Wit like true Courage never should abate But bravely stand unmov'd in spite of Fate Confront the Tyrant in his guarded Den And like bold Brutus stab him with a Pen. Nero set Rome on fire a crime Severe Noll fir'd three Kingdoms and then warm'd him there Play'd o're the Flames and long exulting stood Then strove to quench them with the Natives blood Nor was 't enough to make our Purses pay But Taxes on our Consciences to lay We might connive not only at his Guilt But take on us the blood the Tyrant spilt The Commons did it he like Pilate stands And we the Water hold to wash his hands Prodigious arrogance he did defie The chiefest pow'rs both of the Earth and Sky Against both God and Church he stood alone Thrust one fro'th ' Church the other from the Throne His sacrilegious hands at once pluck'd down The sacred Myter and the regal Crown The Graces and the Muses he accus'd Because by 's lust they would not be abus'd And yet this devillish Hypocrite would pray Hyena like would cry and then betray With counterfeiting groans he did his wiles Like to the treacherous sobs of Crocodiles His Tears like those of baneful Yew did trill Whose baneful drops their neighb'ring Trees do kill His whining always did portend some harm So hardest Marbles weep against a Storm His Trulyes cheated and his Smiles betray'd In Velvet-skabbard lay his murd'ring blade His poys'nous heart in Beds of Flowers lay Like Quagmires into which their Greens betray A Sodom-Apple rotten at the Coar A Pestilential Bubo plaister'd o're But now the Botch is broke his Reign is done And he himself into Corruption run The APPARITION 1659. Vpon Cromwel's burying by Ireton in Westminster Abby PArdon great Souls if I presume So near as your Withdrawing room Your royal Wardrobe wherein rests Your Garniture in Marble Chests Safely lockt up to make more gay Your second Coronation day Then will those mouldy Garments shine Like that pure stuff which them must line Air'd by the influence of a Ray Stronger then what gives life to Day Which will new cloath that Beldame Night With robes spun of eternal light Will make the Sun in Cynders lye That Phoenix in its Nest to dye For it would be a needless sight When every object is more bright That shining time we once must know If 't be allow'd to call it so When no degree nor space is found But an immortal Nunc goes round This thought such deep impressions makes My muse with awful rev'rence shakes Methinks I hear the Trumpet 's sound An Earth-quake strikes the palsy'd ground The Marbles now discharge their trust And faithfully return their Dust. Behold the quickning Attoms play Invited by an heavenly ray In close embraces dancing round 'Till each its old position found Uniting then with joy they rest Form'd to a Temple fitly drest To hold the bright descending Guest Who will not lose by changing place Convey'd into its shining Case As Sun-beames into Chrystal pass Thus animated from above Look how the rising Monarchs move With lofty meen they Earth despise Gods now indeed and worthy Skies Attended by a fitting Train Which humbly at their feet had lain No Subject boasts a nobler state Than on his Prince's dust to wait Kings honour bring where they resort Making ev'n Golgotha a Court. From Heav'n amongst the Angels came A glitt'ring Wayter called Fame Breaking her Trumpet with a blast For what needs Fame when time is past Here other Heralds then appear'd Those Poets that were there interr'd 'T is fit they should some glory share Who did so much advance it here Just as all these prepar'd to fly To the shining Rendezvous i' th' Sky Two Monsters from their filth did craul Off'ring to rise still down they fall Their blood-shot eyes with gloating shame Too weak to bear the heavenly flame Of such a Presence dazling bright With glory crown'd and roab'd with light One of 'em with a glaring look Swelling with spite and fury spoke These are but Kings and Cromwell I They at my Genius us'd to fly Death that great Tyrant being dead Why should we petty Monarchs dread What makes us so dejected lie Those vainly fear that cannot die Yet die we will rather then shun To act what we before have done Quoth damn'd remonstring Ireton Let 's charge their Troop and both prepar'd Red fury from their Beacons glar'd Their heads the groveling serpents rear'd Fame then reply'd Avaunt thou odious spawn of Night Thou Beam i' th' very Eye of Light Wer 't not enough you did defile Nay worse profan'd this hallow'd Soyle Reducing it to so vile price Like Egypt's it may turn to Lice Were 't not enough you did invade Their Throne but you usurp their Shade Pursuing them ev'n to the Tombe And now dare in their Presence come You ought to be for this bold crime Damn'd down to Hell before your time Like red-hot Iron then Cromwel glowes Yet nothing shin'd unless his Nose Of red and blew mixt was the flame As it from Fire and Brimstone came The Angel shunning further stay His Heavenly Banner did display Such power i' th'
he from his Kingdoms were exil'd Forein experience did increase his store Thus in afflicting Iob was Hell beguil'd Since he at last was richer than before Nor did it show as Heaven took not his part Because his fortune before theirs did fall Since he who shar'd in the Almighty's heart Was persecuted by a wicked Saul Most men did fear our happy dayes were done Since Charls our joy was clouded from our sight The World's end thus is guess'd because the Sun Grows lower than it wonted and less bright But thanks to Heav'n we happily mistook And now rejoyce in our deluded Eyes The blessing came when we least for't did look The Sun thus lowest seems just at its rise §. 2. Man's life 's a Sea when fortunate it 's smooth But when afflicted then the Waves are rough Twixt Storms and Billows toss'd he scornd 'em both Like a stout Friggat that is Weather-proof Afflictions on right objects well apply'd Bring Crowns as showers make our Roses grow And like to Gold within a Fornace try'd His splendor's greater and his vertue too Phoebus ecclips'd attracts the greater gaze As tho oblig'd more to his loss of light Scorch'd with the fury of the Dog-star's blaze The ground 's requited by the dewy Night Heroick Charls his crosses then esteem'd As his Refiners Lees purge richest Wines Amidst his troubles he most glorious seem'd Incompast thus with Clouds bright Phoebus shines Inured to Affliction Vertue 's School For future Empire he was made more fit Our Prince here followd his great Master's rule Upon whose brows Thorns before Gold did fit Nor can it as a banishment be said He only travel'd to increase his store Flowr's so transplanted from their Native bed Their beauty sweetness goodness is the more Further that Rivers run they more improve 'T is said that things far fetcht our Ladies please Nothing but worthless weeds do float above We dive for Pearls into the deepest Seas §. 3. England still senseless of that happy state Which by a Prince so hopeful she might gain O're-aw'd by fear or overswayd by Fate Like stubborn Atheists will her crimes maintain Scar'd by our Crimes and blinded by our sins We like those salvage Indians appear Adore the Fiend insnared by his Gynns And pay him homage out of slavish fear Thus have I sometimes certain flowers seen Whose leaves were shut to th' Sun but ope to th' Shade As more obliged to that killing Skreen Than to those beams from whence they Being had Rebellious Scotland first did ope her Eyes Scotland the source of Treason and our Woes From Charls the Second she expects a prize As great as she in Charls the First did lose In Selling him the price of blood she had And now she sells to Second Charls his Crown Too wily Scot this bargain is as bad Since now for that he must himself lay down Too high a price for all the Crowns on Earth Though all constellate in one Diadem His Vertues well consider'd and his Birth They cannot him deserve though he may them But let not here Posterity mistake Boast of her Heroes Scotland justly dares Condemn not all the Twelve for Iudas sake Heav'n has its falling well as fixed stars Amongst which glorious Sparks in his high Sphere Shines great Montross the glory of his Age Who brave did like the Roman Curtius dare Perisht his Country's Judgments to asswage His pious valour lasting glory got When he alone to aid his King durst come Thus Decius did himself to death devote And battled thousands to preserve his Rome Heroic Soul until all time be gon His fame shall largely spread until he come With his first Master to the justest Throne And there receive their Crowns of Martyrdome Though not with such Poetic fury fir'd His vast heroic actions to reherse Yet with a rhyming guess I am inspir'd And Prophecies themselves were spoke in verse He who contriv'd thy death although Argyle That bloody Fox before one year he see Shall like to Haman both in fate and guile Perish upon that Cross he rear'd for thee §. 4. See now what Vertue in a King can doe His great example has made Scotland good To cure her Leprosie she now will go To bathe in Iordans of her Natives blood His goodness and his Royal parts have won More than whole Armies ever did before All Scotland now does to his standard run To help his other Kingdoms to restore To England his choice Vineyard he is gone Where though his faithful Servants murder'd were He thought they would not to such madness run Or durst attempt to violate the Heir But she besotted with her slavish state This blessed opportunity did shun Stood idly careless of a better fate And though in darkness would not meet the Sun Thus did she flight her glory and her pride And to that Idol-Cromwel still incline So Christ was by the Gadarenes deny'd Who valu'd him far lesser than their Swine Though their vast odds and usual success Sufficient were to cool a Caesar's blood So undauntedly he charg'd that all confess Nothing but Englands Sins his Arms withstood Oh! that I had now an heroick Vein His brave heroic Actions to relate Although his Army lay about him slain His Vertue yet did triumph o're his Fate Horatius thus withstood Porsenna's Host Such was his valour such his love to Rome And leaping into Tyber well might boast To make Retreats so was to overcome Through Troops of foes he undiscover'd rides Till unto blessed Boscabel he got To little Zoar with his heavenly Guides From blinded Sodom so escaped Lot To him as to God's Israel was allow'd A sure defence against th' AEgyptian spight He march'd behind the Bulwark of a cloud A Blind to those it was to these a Light Not their proclaim'd Rewards nor curious Spyes Nor Cromwell's luck in Plots this prize could win As he had been a second Paradice His careful Guardian was a Cherubin Blest Charles then to an Oak his safety owes The Royal-Oak which now in Songs shall live Until it reach to Heaven with its boughs Boughs that for Loyalty shall Garlands give Let celebrated Wits with Lawrels crown'd And wreaths of Bayes boast their triumphant brows I will esteem my self far more renown'd In being honour'd with these Oaken Boughs The Genii of the Druids hover'd here Who under Oaks did Britains glories sing Which since in Charles compleated did appear They gladly came now to protect their King Thus God for him did Miracles create And Moses-like with signal blessings grac'd To pass the British Seas was then a fate Not less than when he through the Red-Sea pass'd § 5. Thus he at once both ours and Heaven's care For landing-place his Normandy did chuse Whose glad Inhabitants with earnest prayers Begg'd for that blessing which we did refuse In Paris now receiv'd with jealous eye Nor can we justly tax that Prince's fear Since in his Chronicles He may espy What bus'ness our fifth Henry once
Citie 's joy declare Henceforth the Drawers will not be thy friend All hearts together at this instant meet And all his welcome in one shout combine The Crouds are weav'd together in one Street And all their Eyes are thridded on one line The little Pupil of the Eye contains At once the spatious object of the Skies Yet such a Miracle in Charles now reigns He 's big enough himself to fill all Eyes The Walls instead of Bricks of Heads are made So closely joyn'd and orderly they stand And for more Ornament it may be said Each wears a Turky Carpet for a Band. With Pray'rs and loyal Vows the Town 's made sweet Houses are Wall'd with Men Roofs tyl'd with Boys The Chanels washt with Wine Streets pav'd with feet And all the Windows glazed are with Eyes §. 16. Come now show service Muse as well as love When both Necessity and I do call Let thy soil'd Lawrels then a Beesom prove And sweep the way before him to White-hall White-hall late soyl'd with dirt with Thistles grown As commonly is seen where Swine resort But here a Miracle will soon be shown Hee 'l make it both a Garden and a Court. For whereso'ere he sets his Royal Foot Soon will the Red and White-Rose there be shown Since our great Charles is their undoubted Root For him both York and Lancaster do own Though now my Muse th' hast brought him to the Port Thou may'st not enter for the Courtiers say Thy Poverty will not beseem a Court Although thy Love and true Allegiance may Thou canst not then what there was done relate That is impossible for thee to show But tho these Wishes cannot gain the Fate To come to him may they to Heaven go The SOULDIER 1660. To the Illustrious and High-born Prince James Duke of York c. THE litttle Spot I on Parnassus till Were it great Prince but fruitful to my will The Lawrels that my slender Stock allows Each day should yield fresh Garlands to thy Brows And tho last Month great Charles did justly gain The spreading boughes one branch does still remain Which shortly will a greater thing be thought If fitting Wreaths be to thy Merits brought Since all the Lawrels that the Earth brings forth Will be too scanty for thy growing worth Thine Ancestors and Parents all were sent By Heav'n to be their Ages ornament With all their several Virtues thou art fill'd Roses and Lillies Essences distill'd Thy Father's Soul vyes with thy Mothers face From her thy Beauty and from him thy Grace Nor is this all thou must more Iustice have Prudent with Iames and with great Henry brave Thy Royal Fathers Crowns being from him torn Wise Providence ordain'd thou should'st be born For so what from him by our Sins were ta'ne By thy great Valour might be won again And tho with bold success they storm'd the Walls Thou like Camillus had'st expell'd those Gaules But that kind Heav'n in league with us did stand Whose aid did save the labour of thy hand Thus Hezekiah might devoutly boast When Angels routed the Assyrian Host. Whilst such ones fought for us a doubt might be Whether they took not one of them for thee Such is the lightning of thy piercing Raies And such fair Signs of Conquest in thy face So true a heat thy noble Passion stirr'd So swift the motion of thy flaming Sword Nor was 't enough thy Birth did thee advance Valour thy Nature and Inheritance But thou hast practis'd War ev'n from thy birth Like Cadmus's Soldiers peeping first from Earth The Martial Skarf thy swathing-band was deem'd Bullets thy Nuts and Drums thy Rattles seem'd Bellona was thy Nurse with blood thee fed Bright Steel thy Blankets and the Field thy Bed Alcides's sp'rit in thy young breast did dwell Who in the Cradle did the Serpents quell Young Princes bred up in luxurious Courts Like May-Kings are alone design'd for sports Silk Knots their Colours from vain Women torn Nor seek they other Forts than theirs to storm Vict'ry thine only Mistris was and there If ever thou wilt turn Idolater Bold Scythians so a Spear did fix in Ground And there alone their reverence was found Nor did those sullen times infect thy mind Tho fierce as Lyons yet as Ladies kind This made th' admiring World both love and fear Thy Grapes produc'd both Wine and Vinegar Gentle in Peace in War most bravely bold Thy Springs in Winter hot in Summer cold Compos'd in tumults and in troubles gay Thou like the Porpois canst in tempests play Cromwel ne'r thought his bus'ness to be done Whilst thou wer 't safe tho all Foes else were gone His restless jealousie disturb'd his mind More dangers yet in thee he fear'd to find But when the Fates thee in his pow'r had brought He only then himself in safety thought Ierusalem of rescue thus despair'd And the grim Saracens no longer fear'd When they with joy the Austrian Leopard saw To hold our Cor-de-Lyon in his paw But of thy Chaines he was not long time proud He could not keep this Thunder in a Cloud And now thy spreading Fame began t' advance Which he did hear with terrour out of France That sound scarce settled when behold again One louder when thou fought'st for worthy'r Spayn Honour thine int'rest was and sway'd thy heart To take the juster tho the weaker part Thus did brave Guy the bloody strife decide And help'd the Lyon as the weakest side Thy brave Atchievements made the Tyrant quake And at the last his Grave for refuge take BEAUTY'S ENEMY 1660. Vpon the Death of M. Princess of Orange by the Small Pox. HEnce hence vain Fancies 't is a Sin to be A witty praiser of a Misery Like those hard Wits who name the Scars Upon her Face Ennamel and bright Stars They crown their brows with Cypress boughs and make Garlands of Flow'rs which they from Coffins take Then should the Iews those hands have kist with joy That did their Temple and themselves destroy Her Eyes amidst her torments sparkled beams Thus martyr'd Saints smil'd in their hottest flames Nor can the Parallel be well deny'd Since ' it s too true she Beauty's Martyr dy'd Fatal Disease thy Spite too oft is sent Like Sequestrators on the Eminent Thy Crimes like those of their damn'd Masters show Like them thou ruin'st England with a blow Great Charles his loss and hers were near ally'd In them the Monarchs of both Sexes dy'd Most cruel Death could not one wound suffice Must she as many have as Heav'n has Eyes Each Spot upon her Face a Comet show'd Which did alas this fatal ruine bode So do those purple streaks that often stand Upon Aurora's Cheeks tell storms at hand This fatal Mask that thus beclouds her Eyes Is no deformity but a disguise 'T is but an Angel's Veil she now has on For veil'd they are when they approach the Throne THE GENTLEMAN 1662. To 's honour'd Friend Sir Ger. Clifton of Clifton K. and B. TH'
always chear too much Which my weak Stomack never could digest Since too much Expectation daunts a Guest But this Sir was not all my Muse kept home Constrain'd by fate else she had sooner come She wants a Steed and she has got the pride Of wanton Girls that would on Cock-horse ride But the strange Horse-disease that rag'd with us Amongst some others caught my Pegasus But tho he did escape He yet does lack The only Medicine a Drench of Sack Which is such costly feeding this hard year Our Hacknies will be than our selves more bare I mean us Poets For those who are able Keep their Iades lean i' th' Study fat i' th' Stable I loyter'd thus hoping at Lenton-fair Amongst our Gallants I might borrow there Alas in vain unless I would shift thus Making a Hobby-Horse my Pegasus The PICK-POCKET 1655. To my good friend Mr. R. Mason raptim IF Clients wants or follies grant thee pause Or Sack which is more powerful than Laws Please to unbend a while lay Ploidon down And Cook the two worst pick-pockets i' th' Town They rob with priveledge and pow'rful hands When the poor Cutpurse close and trembling stands And yet their malice is at them displeas'd Thus Alexander a less Pirat seiz'd The Law attaches Felons when it pleases The Plague so routs the Pox and small diseases Yet we must seek its help for 't is well known Moll Cut-purse sought to help folks to their own Leave then this Scandal and repair to me Who tho half drunk thirst for thy Company Here 's Sack if Noy the quickest of your Tribe Had supp'd he would have ta'n before a bribe Such as will make thee eloquent as Finch And yet not eek thy Rhet'rick with a Clinch Each drop of which a Ruby will create Inriching Noses at the Indian rate Haste then or we shall be so rich and great We shall disdain what now we do intreat The MISTAKE 1665. Vpon drinking a Glass of Beer to C. J. B. for one of Sack raptim PArdon great Bacchus I repent The Error has its punishment Poor Travellers are cheated so That come where Sodom Apples grow This change of mine has his disgrace Who did for Iuno Clouds imbrace Nor is the distance lesser here Immortal Sack and Mortal Beer So did the crazed Hebrew fail Deserting God to go to Baal Your Spanish Donna has a touch More charming than the thick-skin'd Dutch One thus a Beauty thought to wed But got a Gypsie to his Bed Beer has that tann'd and yellow hew Like hers that did the Liquor brew When Sack 's Complexion is refin'd As though it were with Sun-beams lin'd The DISGUISE 1665. Vpon Mr. Ger. Lee imputing a scandalous Paper to me and subscribing his Name covertly within a Circle of inverted Letters RAther than suffer this my injur'd Muse Mount now and spur thy sku-bald Pegasus And turn Apparitor Here 's bastard Wit Laid at thy Door if thou wilt Father it Observe the Castling well What no Wall-eye Mare-face or Mark to know the Stallion by Look there at lowest end a Buttock-brand A Transcript from that in the Father's hand His shrivel'd Name fit for a larger Stage Shows like to Bajazet within his Cage His envious-black-mouth'd Verses make it said A Knot of Snakes torn from Erinnis head A peevish Fiend within a Circle shut Homer's fond Fables ramm'd into a Nut A Knave in Fetters Gotham in a Map A crafty Fox caught justly in a Trap. Thy Name methinks peeps forth and seems to be As th' Owner ought upon a Pillory Justice triumphant is nor can it choose When such a Hang-man's catch'd in his own Noose The MERCHANT 1655. Vpon the Death of my Br. Mr. S. S. in the Canaries WHO knows his Fate or where he shall expire 'T is comfort tho that Heav'n is no where nigh'r Than where we dye The Grave 's an humble rise From whence we take our leap into the Skies A true Enlargement Death for all prepares Takes cares from Young-men and Old-men from cares Let us not then his loss of hopes deplore Those who have full Injoyments hope no more Hope is the Balm of Life and Balm is found In vain when we no more can have a Wound Nor could long Life have much advanc'd his Story They have gain'd full enough who have gain'd Glory His vertuous Inclinations claim that State Such early hopes attract the smiles of Fate Nor did he vainly suck in foreign Air Since half the World now claims in him a share A Life to him his loved Europe gave And Africk did bestow on him a Grave Those Isles to him did fortunate appear And he gain'd well who purchas'd Heaven there The CAVALEER 1665. An Elegy upon Capt. Ben Marshal's Death O'R whelm'd in Night and Grief I sit For Verse or Humour most unfit Aurora's Mother both of Ioy and Wit By day the Chanters of the Spring Warble and keep time with the Wing But yet by Night the Nightingale does sing 'T is midnight now and all at rest Except the sorrows in my brest Which are so far from sleep they yet are drest For Verse is Grief's most Solemn dress Verse more than tears can grief express Such drops their lasting fountains must confess For tears tho from a double Rill Are sometimes dry the Brain springs still It is the Conduit and its Pipe the Quill Let none say Verse may lessen Grief David altho the Poet 's Cheif His tears fro' th' Muses fountain got relief No artifice is needful here Like Herod's to exact a tear His loss its selfs a general Massacre He such true Friendship did possess As might its wasting stock increase And furnish this our jarring World with Peace Such a Companion all would crave Or such to be or such to have Nay we for him did Wine Plays Women wave To prove his Inclinations right His Loyalty was his delight For tho a Boy he left his Play to fight Those Wounds which for the King he met Spoke glorious Toils for Blood 's the Sweat Of Honour the best Scarlet Souldiers get Tho Fortune to maintain her spite Did aid the Wrong against the Right He courage shew'd in Suff'rings as in Fight In Persecution he had share Yet Patience did that smart repair So Thunder troubles and yet clears the Air. As in those days he scorn'd to bow To any Tyrants threatning Brow So he disdain'd as base a crouching now For though his Worth could not be heard He knew it was it's own reward Since Traitors were prefer'd he favours fear'd It would but our devotion blame Alone the inward Rites to name And quite neglect the stately Temples frame Such was his Body strait and high And then the Chrystals of each Eye Did well reflect the beauties of his Sky His Body's strength like to his Mind That we despair in one to find Their equal 'till at last again they 're joyn'd Fruits ripest sooner suffer wrong This made him dye alas too young 'T is hard
me If some do not for me this Knack I like the Mountebank may crack How that my leaping breaks my Back Let no man mock at what is writ To shew my Poverty is fit For Want's a special sign of Wit Nor do these my Pretences cheat But their good Fortunes seek to get Who Ballads sing at Doors for Meat Then I may boast Apollo's Skill If now a fat Doe I can kill With th' feather'd Arrow of my Quill To Orpheus Fame I 'll then aspire If one dance now to my desire Charm'd by the twangings of my Lyre A Midnight's RAPSODY 1668. Vpon my dear W. at the point of Death DArk time alas when both the light Of Heaven and my sad Soul have ta'n their flight And both intomb'd in deepest night Dejected Muse how canst thou think To look or write when th' Eyes of Heav'n do wink And Paper looks it self like Ink Lord but increase my inward Sight Thou who from Chaos didst create a Light One Smile from thee can gild my Night A Night that foils the brightest Ray O' th' Moon and clouds the clearest Beam of Day Yet will thy smallest Glance obey Behold the courteous Queen of Night Is pleas'd to lend a Ray by whose kind light Although wept blind I now can write Hark how her pretty small ones cry And who can doubt that Heaven will deny Those Tears would Marbles mollifie My Pray'r methinks more swiftly flies Born on the Pinnions of their purer Cries Which court at once and scale the Skies Sleep then sad Eyes do not despair When next you ope to find th' effects of Pray'r For Heav'n was hers she Heaven's care Awake again this sadly shows That falling Drops not always bring Repose Nor will Streams let my Flood-gates close My Grief flows with a constant Tide Which does the Ocean's shallow Ebbs deride And swell'd does o're my Eye-banks glide Not yet wept dry my Tears increase After such Show'rs methinks this Rain should cease Yet Griefs like Heat new Vapours raise Mix'd with my Ink let my Tears run And let thy holy Spirit move thereon To make a sacred Helicon Which like to Iordan then shall be And cleanse the stains of injur'd Poetry Too long defil'd with Leprosie 'T is fit alone to sing thy praise Thou who canst only give immortal Bays And us above our Fancies raise HOPE RUIN'D 1668. Vpon the Death of the Right Honourable the Lady Mary Mannors youngest Daughter to the Noble House of Rutland SO long I staid in vain alas to try If other Tributes than those from the Eye Would have been offer'd at her Virgin-Shrine But must it seems begin with this of mine Let others Marble give her Tomb to grace It will my Glory be to pave the place Tho their bright Torches on her Herse must shine 'T is Honour that this twinckling Lamp of mine Did glimmer first so does Aurora run As Usher to the Lord of Wit the Sun When Church doors are shut up true Pray'rs may please Though they be offer'd up in Cottages But yet methinks 't is odd to cherish Woes Verse quickens Grief that is but flat in Prose Ingenious Lines but too much deck an Herse And briny Tears pickle up Grief in Verse Yet 't is our Fate here who like Merchants lose Our Treasures first and then proclaim our Woes Her Actions were Examples so that still Those Ladies that don't practice her do ill She did excell the strictest Cloister'd Saint Affected Purity is worse than Paint And now she 's gone if Poets will declare And tell what Beauties other Ladies are They must get Praises from her parts and tell These Coral Lips almost like hers do swell Those Eyes resemble hers that Ladies face Has her sweet Features this her winning Grace Each piece of hers makes perfect and compleat Thus a King's Ruines make ten thousand great So when the Sun is set the Queen of Night Borrows her shining Glory from his Light Sad Fate thus when a Rose-tree dies at foot A croud of Beauties perish with the Root Let none then blame our Grief 't is not for one But for the Ruines of a Million The Early SPRING 1669. Vpon the immature Death of my honoured Friend Theophilus Parkyns Esq TO lay this precious Dust which the rough hours Of March did cause April now pours It self away in Showers Such Drops produce a Spring And thus enable us to bring These flow'rs alas which on his Herse we fling The Muses Gardens cannot yield supplies If we his worth should justly prize Eden would scarce suffice Nor could Arabia yield From out her parcht and spicy Field Odours and Gums enow his Pile to build Altho this Fun'ral-charge may prove too deep For any Poet's brains to keep Yet we alas can weep This Deluge of our Eyes May help to make his Coffin rise Like Noah's Ark and raise it to the Skies When we have wept all this we may have fears The Briny Ocean of our tears Not half enough appears For judge by what we loft Out Country's nay our Nation 's boast If tears or words can give sufficient cost How beautiful each look each line of 's Face Each limb each motion had a grace Nature in him did place What either Sex thinks rare Tall and yet lovely strong yet fair Venus and Mars in him compounded were Tho Nature to his Body was so kind Yet not content he sought to find The beauties of the Mind At all perfections vies Charming his Looks as Ladies Eyes Bold as young Heroes as old Doctors wise His powr'ful Wit had such an Empire gain'd It every Subject could command And all its Foes withstand Fro' th' Schools it first did come As conq'ring Caesar did from Rome Till strong enough to rule its native home He who had gone so far might well have staid But like a man that thrives o' th Trade He further progress made Like Rich men he sought more Tho he had treasures heap'd in store Yet free from pride he thought himself but poor Death did alas all these fair hopes betray As Blossoms in a Frosty day Drop from a Tree in May. His Autumn was not slow And yet surpriz'd by Winter so His fruit lyes bury'd now in Sheets of Snow Tho whilst alive we scarcely saw him right His worth will now come more in sight As Stars shine most by night Why then should foolish I To raise his fame thus vainly try When things eternal can themselves supply The FRIEND 1669. Epitaph upon Roger Waldron Esquire REader what pale cold Guest Under this speaking Stone does rest Is by these faithful lines exprest One of an ancient Name Who left as full and clear a fame To 's Children as fro's Grandsires came Nature to him did lend A Heart that knew no other end But how to love and serve his Friend His humour rightly plac'd And so by conversation grac'd It manna like did please each Tast. This is no flatt'ring dress For Envy's self must needs confess Truth and a
to run so fast and travel long That Conq'rour Death to name him right Durst not trust here to his own might But cowardly avoided open Fight H' attackt him like a wily Foe Wasted his strength without a blow And kept aloof till sure to find it so Yet still mistrustful to prevail With all his force did him assail Yet till the last his Heart did never fail Thus Martial Troy that Gods did build Defended by the sacred Shield When all was lost the Temple then did yield His EPITAPH TRue Fame from Envy takes no wrong Where Merit is Stones find a Tongue And this declares Here lies inclos'd A Body was so well compos'd For strength and beauty none could find An equal to it but his Mind Heav'n has his Soul the World his Fame We only can his Body claim Death that great Chymist has refin'd The Oare and left the Dross behind The GOSSIPS 1666. To Sir Clifford Clifton for a Buck against a Christ'ning MY fate is when I write to you To own old favours or beg new Not strange with Poets since an Alms And Thanks make up the Book of Psalms 'T is lawful when like th' Alms-house wont The Benefactor 's shewn i' th Front My wants need no more Vouchers take Then that I Verse and Children make Both got in an odd itching Vein Expensive to the Purse and Brain Yet of the two Children are most With labour born brought up with cost Especially since Gossips now Eat more at Christnings than bestow Formerly when they us'd to troul Gilt Bowls of Sack they gave the Bowl Two Spoons at least an use ill kept 'T is well now if our own be left Since Friends are scarce and Neighbours many Who will lend mouths but not a penny I must since poor as almost may be Thyestes like cook up a Baby Or if you grant not a supply Must ev'n provide a Crisome Py It will be tenderer then Gelly So long parboil'd in Mothers Belly Venus and Mars Conspirers be And frown'd on my Nativity My Fortunes first by War o'rpow'rd And now alas by Love devour'd Children will rob what Round-heads left Yet we make blessings of the theft The gain 's soon told if we compare Our joy with grief our hope with care Children grow up as we decay Their structures on our Graves they lay And Christning-Feasts are but a Toll Exacted or an earlier Dole A Font brings far the heavier doom To a poor Father than a Tombe We 're brought to th' Grave with Solemn state Where Friends and Mourners kindly wait Worms on our Corpses only thrive But Guests devour us here alive To you the Pow'r Sir only falls To save me from these Canibals A Buck you know oft' stops the fury Both of an hungry Iudge and Iury. Please to bestow one He shall run In four Parks then instead of one Wee 'l follow th' Chase so that he shall Be forc'd to leave the Crusted Wall 'Till to the inmost Copse he skips Pal'd round with Teeth and hedg'd with Lips There Blown and hot we will design To make him plunge in Ponds of Wine Then Sir your health begun shall be As Crown to the Solemnity And he who dares that health disown Shall have the Horns and not the Crown The PARTHIAN ARCHER 1666. Vpon a Spanish Needle run into a Ladies Breech WELL hit small Don I 'le now protest That one-ey'd Marks-men aim the best Thy piercing Charge none can withstand When guided by a Ladie 's hand S'attractive and so fair a Mark A man might hit tho in the dark Such a white pair of Butts ev'n wo'd Make all men shoot like Robin Hood Whose steady aim such credit got It never mist to cleave the Mott. All would with David's Slingers dare Amd aim their stones to hit the Hair Sharp Spanish Pike that can prevail To wound her through the double Mail Of Coats and Smock when Cupid's Cannon Mounted on wheels that it does stand on Thunders in vain on that design And 's forc'd at last to undermine Sure Cupid thirsting for such drink Approach'd so near the Fountain's brink And pierc'd that Butt whence he did know Rich Nectar tunn'd up there would flow The waving Needle here does fix And steady against her North-star sticks Hence that Magnetick power does come No Loadstone to a Lady's Bumm The CANARY ISLANDS 1666. To my dearly beloved Brother Mr. William Shipman Merchant there COme Bacchus God of Poetry by right Lend me thine influence whilst now I write Thy Sackbut can into my breast inspire More active heat than can Apollo's Lire He 's an Vsurper and his pow'r a crack If we his Helicon compare with Sack Lock up that Nectar but a year or two And see what all his Hippocrene can do That Trough of Pegasus a pretious grace To vaunt thus of an Hackney's wat'ring-place Not the least spark of Wit it can inspire Without assistance both of Malt and Fire When Heat within the lusty Grape does grow 'T is to it's self Malt Heat and Water too A Pipe of Sack which is great Bacchus's Throne Is both Parnassus and a Helicon Iuno her self and Venus too are dull If Hebe do not fill their Glasses full New Vigour to their Eyes it does afford Mars swears it whets his Courage and his Sword The Spirits of Iove himself are dull as Lead Without this Nectar fill'd by Ganimede He 's one of Bacchus's Drawers Sack creates Life in those Gods that do direct our Fates See the Injustice then of lying Fame Bacchus deserves Apollo gets the Name Thus Princes in their Wars fill up the Story When their brave Generals deserve the Glory Blest Soil that does distill so rare a Iuyce More precious far than Canaan did produce The Milk and Honey which did thence proceed Made only nauseous Butter-milk and Mead. Whose Influence more of Phlegm than Blood did breed Dispersing Weakness through the Iewish Seed Made them desist and give their conquest o're Truckling to those they trampled on before When as the haughty Spaniard did decline The Universal Monarchy 'till Wine Infus'd that lofty Spirit in his Veins And more by that then by his Sword he reigns Bold Britain does her Trophies here decline As never conquer'd but by Spanish Wine Their mighty Navy tho she forc'd to wrack Yet falls beneath the Puissance of Sack Had Sack been the Commodity the Day Had lucky been at ‖ Rheez as Tercera French-Wines work small efforts as may be known By th' Spirits which in Gallick veins are shown Their Wines and Spirits both alike are vain Soon kindled and as soon piss'd out again Wonder then that we fall not out with Spain On purpose those rich Islands to obtain Our English youth would all its valour try In one six months to win and drink 'em dry Wee 'd rigg out such a Fleet that all the Ground Should scarce sufficient be for Ballast found And that high Peek there should the honour gain To be Main-mast i' th' Royal