heauie light The smallest liuing things by Nature wrought Bee freed of Woe if they haue small Delight Ah only I abandon'd to Despaire Nail'd to my Torments in pale Horrours Shade Like wandring Clouds see all my Comforts fled And Euill on Euill with Hours my Life impaire The Heauen and Fortune which were wont to turne Fixt in one Mansion staye to cause mee mourne SON DEare Eye which daign'st on this sad Monument The sable Scroule of my Mis-haps to view Though with the mourning Muses Teares besprent And darkly drawne which is not fain'd but true If thou not dazell'd with a Heauenly Hue And comely Feature didst not yet lament But happie liu'st vnto thy selfe content O let not Loue thee to his Lawes subdue Looke on the wofull Shipwracke of my Youth And let my Ruines for a Phare thee serue To shunne this Rocke Capharean of Vntrueth And serue no God who doth his Church-men sterue His Kingdome is but Plaints his Guerdon Teares What hee giues more are Iealousies and Feares SON IF crost with all Mil haps bee my poore Life If one short Day I neuer spent in Mirth If my Spright with it selfe holds lasting Strife If Sorrowes Death is but new Sorrowes Birth If this vaine World bee but a sable Stage Where slaue-borne Man playes to the scoffing Starres If Youth bee toss'd with Loue with Weaknesse Age If Knowledge serueto holde our Thoughts in Warres If Time can close the hundreth Mouths of Fame And make what long since past like that to bee If Vertue only bee an idle Name If I when I was bome was borne to die Why seeke I to prolong these loathsome Dayes The fairest Rose in shortest time decayes SON LEt Fortune triumph now and Iö sing Sith I must fall beneath this Load of Care Let Her what most I prize of eu'rie Thing Now wicked Trophees in her Temple reare Shee who high Palmie Empires doth not spare And tramples in the Dust the prowdest King Let Her vaunt how my Blisse Shee did impaire To what low Ebbe Shee now my Flow doth bring Let Her count how a new Ixion Mee Shee in her Wheele did turne how high nor low I neuer stood but more to tortur'd bee Weepe Soule weepe plaintfull Soule thy Sorrowes know Weepe of thy Teares till a blacke Riuer swell Which may Câ—…cytus be to this thy Hell SON O Cruell Beautie Meekenesse inhumaine That Night and day contend with my Desire And seeke my Hope to kill not quench my Fire By Death not Baulme to ease my pleasant Paine Though yee my Thoughts tread downe which would aspire And bound my Blisse doe not alas disdaine That I your matchlesse Worth and Grace admire And for their Cause these Torments sharpe sustaine Let great Empedocles vaunt of his Death Found in the midst of those Sicylian Flames And Phaëton that Heauen him râ—…ft of Breâ—…th And Daedals Sonne He nam'd the Samian Streames Their Haps I enuie not my Praise shall bee The fairest Shee that liu'd gaue Death to mee SON THe Hyperborean Hills Ceraunus Snow Or 〈◊〉 cruell fiâ—…st thee bred The Caspian Tigers with their Milke thee fed And Faunes did humane Bloud on thee bestow Fierce Orithyas Loâ—…er in thy Bed Thee lull'd asleepe where he enrag'd doth blow Thou didst not drinke the Flouds which here doe flow But Tâ—…ares or those by ycie Tanais Hed. Sith thou disdaines my Loue neglects my Griefe Laughs at my Grones and still affects my Death Of thee nor Heauen I 'll seeke no more Reliefe Nor longer entertaine this loathsome Breath But yeeld vnto my Starre that thou mayst proue What Losse thou hadst in losing such a Loue SONG PHoebus arise And paint the sable Skies VVith azure white and Red Rowse Memmons Mother from her Tythons Bed That Shee thy Cariere may with Roses spred The Nightingalles thy Comming each where sing Make an eternall Spring Giue Lâ—…fe to this darke World which lieth dead Spreade foorth thy golden Haire In larger Lockes than thou wast wont before And Emperour-like decore VVith Diademe of Pearle thy Temples faire Chase hence the vglie Night VVhich serues but to make deare thy glorious Light This is that happie Morne That Day long wished Day Of all my Life so darke If cruell Starres haue not my Ruine sworne And Fates not Hope betray VVhich only white deserues A Diamond for euer should it marke This is the Morne should bring vnto this Groue My Loue to heare and recompense my loue Faire King who all preserues But show thy blushing Beames And thou two sweeter Eyes Shalt sâ—…e than those which by Peneus Streames Did once thy Heart surprise Nay Sunnes which shine as cleare As thou when two thou did to Rome appeare Now Flora decke thy selfe in fairest Guise If that yee Winds would heare A Voyce surpassing farre Amphions Lyre Your stormie chiding stay Let Zephyre only breath And with her Tresses play Kissing sometimes these purple Ports of Death The Windes all silent are And Phoebus in his Chaire Ensâ—…ffroning Sea and Aire Makes vanâ—…sh euery Starre Night like a Drunkard râ—…eles Beyond the Hills to shâ—…nne his flaming Wheeles The Fields with Flowrs are deckt in euery Hue The Clouds bespangle with bright Gold their Blew Here is the pleasant Place And eu'ry thing saue Her who all should grace SON WHo hath not seene into her saffron Bed The Mornings Goddesse mildly Her repose Or Her of whose pure Bloud first sprang the Rose Lull'd in a Slumber by a Miâ—…tle Shade Who hath not seene that sleeping White and Red Makes Phoebe looke so pale which Shee did close In that Iönian Hill to ease her Woes Which only liues by Nectare Kisses fed Come but and see my Ladie sweetly sleepe The sighing Rubies of those heauenly Lips The Cupids which Brests golden Apples keepe Those Eyes which shine in midst of their Ecclipse And Hee them all shall see perhaps and proue Shee waking but perswades now forceth Loue. SON OF Cithereas Birds that milke-white paire On yonder leauie Mirtle Tree which grone And waken with their kisses in the Aire Enamour'd Zephyres murmuring one by one If thou but Sense hadst like Pigmalions Stone Or hadst not seene Medusas snakie haire Loues Lessons thou mightst learne and learne sweete Faire To Summers Heat ere that thy Spring bee growne And if those kissing Louers seeme but Cold Looke how that Elme this Iuie doth embrace And bindes and claspes with many a wanton Fold And courting Sleepe o'reshadowes all the Place Nay seemes to say deare Tree we shall not parte In Signe whereof loe in each Leafe a Heart SON THe Sunne is faire when hee with crimson Crowne And flaming Rubies leaues his Easterne Bed Faire is Thaumantias in her christall Gowne When Clouds engemm'd hang azure greene and Red. To Westerne Worlds when wearied Day goes downe And from Heauens Windowes each Starre showes her Hed Earths silent Daughter Night is faire though browne Faire is the Moone though in Loues Liuerie cled Faire Chloris is when Shee doth paint Aprile Faire are
Death Sleepes Brother bee And Soules relieu'd of Sense haue so sweete Dreames That I would wish mee thus to dreame and die SON I Curse the Night yet doth from Day mee hide The Pandionian Birds I tyre with Mones The Ecchoes euen are weari'd with my Grones Since Absence did mee from my Blisse diuide Each Dreame each Toy my Reason doth affright And when Remembrance reades the curious Scroule Of pass d Contentments caused by her Sight Then bitter Anguish doth inuade my Soule While thus I liue ecclipsed of her Light O mee what better am I than the Mole Or those whose Zenith is the only Pole Whose Hemispheare is hid with so long Night Saue that in Earth he rests they hope for Sunne I pine and finde mine endlesse Night begunne SON OF Death some tell some of the cruell Paine Which that bad Crafts-man in his Worke did trie When a new Monster Flames once did constraine A humane Corps to yeeld a brutish Crie Some tell of those in burning Beds who lie For that they durst in the Phlegraean Plaine The mightie Rulers of the Skie defie And siege those christall Toâ—…res which all containe An other countes of Phlegethons hote Floods The Soules which drinke Ixions endlesse Smart And his to whom a Vulture eates the Heart One telles of Specters in enchanted Woods Of all those Paines he who the woâ—…st would proue Let him bee absent and but pine in Loue. MAD. TRitons which bounding diue Through Neptunes liquide Plaine When as yee shall arriue With tilting Tides where siluer Ora playes And to your King his watrie Tribute payes Tell how I dying liue And burne in midst of all the coldest Maine SON PLace mee where angry Titan burnes the More And thirstie Africke firâ—…e Monsters brings Or where the new-borne Phoenix spreades her Wings And Troupes of wondring Birds her Flight adore Place mee by Gange or Indes empampred Shore Where smyling Heauens on Earth cause double Springs Place mee where Neptunes Quire of Syrens sings Or where made hoarse through Cold hee leaues to roare Mee place where Fortune doth her Darlings crowne A Wonder or a Sparke in Enuies Eye Or late outragious Fates vpon mee frowne And Pittie wailing see disastred Mee Affections Print my Minde so deepe doth proue I may forget my Selfe but not my Loue. POEMS BY W. D. THE SECOND PART SONNET OF mortall Glorie ô soone darkned Raye O posting Ioyes of Man more swift than Winde O fond Desires which wing'd with Fancies straye O traitrous Hopes which doe our Iudgements blinde Loe in a Flash that Light is gone away Which dazell did each Eye Delight each Minde And with that Sunne from whence it came combinde Now makes more radiant Heauens eternall Day Let Beautie now be blubbred Cheekes with Teares Let widow'd Musicke only roare and plaine Poore Vertue get thee Wings and mount the Spheares And let thine only Name on Earth remaine Death hath thy Temple raz'd Loues Empire foylde The World of Honour Worth and Sweetnesse spoylde SON THose Eyes those sparkling Saphires of Delight Which thousand thousand Hearts did set on fire Which made that Eye of Heauen that brings the Light Oft jealous staye amaz'd them to admire That liuing Snow those crimson Roses bright Those Pearles those Rubies which did breede Desire Those Lockes of Gold that Purple faire of Tyre Are wrapt aye mee vp in eternall Night What hast thou more to vaunt of wretched World Sith shee who cursed thee made blest is gone Thine euer burning Lamps Rounds euer whorld Can vnto thee not modell such a one For if they would such Beautie bring on Earth They should be forc'd againe to make Her breath SON O Fate conspir'd to powre your Worst on mee O rigorous Rigour which doth all confound With cruell Hands yee haue cut downe the Tree And Fruit and Flowre dispersed on the Ground A litle Space of Earth my Loue doth bound That Beautie which did raise it to the Skie Turn'd in nâ—…glected Dust now low doth lie Deafe to my Plaints and senslesse of my Wound Ah! did I liue for this ah did I loue For this and was it shâ—…e did so excell That â—…re shee well Lifâ—…s sweet-sowre Ioyes did proue Shee should too deare a Guest with Horrour dwell Weake Influence of Hâ—…auen what faire yee frame Falles in the Prime and passeth like a Dreame SON O Woefull Life Life no but liuing Death Fraile Boat of Christall in a rockie Sea A Sport expos'd to Fortunes stormie Breath Which kept with Paine with Terrour doth decay The false Delights true Woes thou dost bequeath Mine all-appalled Minde doe so affraye That I those enuie who are laid in Earth And pittie them that runne thy dreadfull Waye When did mine Eyes behold one chearefull Morne When had my tossed Soule one Night of rest When did not hatefull Starres my Projects scorne O! now I finde for Mortalls what is best Euen sith our voyage shamefull is and short Soone to strike Saile and perish in the Port. SON MIne Eyes dissolue your Globes in brinie Streames And with a Cloud of Sorrow dimme your Sight The Sunnâ—…s bright Sunne is set of late whose Beames Gaue Luster to your Day Day to your Night My Voyce now deafen Earth with Anatheames Roare fooâ—…th a Challenge in the Worlds Despight Tell that disguised Grieâ—…e is her Delight That Life a Slumber is of fearfull Dreames And woefull Minde abhorre to thinke of Ioy My Senses all now comfortlesse you hide Accept no Object but of blacke Annoy Teares Plaints Sighs mourning Weeds Graues gaping wide I haue nought left to wish my Hopes are dead And all with Her beneath a Marble laide SON SWeet Soule which in the Aprill of thy Yeares So to enrich the Heauen mad'st poore this Round And now with golden Rayes of Glorie crown'd Most blest abid'st aboue the Spheare of Spheares If heauenly Lawes alas haue not thee bound From looking to this Globe that all vpbeares If Rueth and Pittie there aboue bee found O daigne to lâ—…nd a Looke vnto those Teares Doe not disdaine deare Ghost this sacrifice And though I raise not Pillars to thy Praise Mine Offerings take let this for mee suffice My Heart a liuing Piramide I raise And whilst Kings Tombes with Lawrels flourish greene Thine shall with Mirtles and these Flowrs bee seene MADRIGALL THis Life which seemes so faire Is like a Bubble blowen vp in the Aire By sporting Childrens Breath VVho chase it euery where And striâ—…e who can most Motion it bequeath And though it sometime seeme of its owne Might Like to an Eye of gold to be fix'd there And firme to houer in that emptie Hight That only is because it is so light But in that Pompe it doth not long appâ—…are For euen when most admir'd it in a Thought As swell'd from nothing doth dissolue in nought SON O! It is not to mee bright Lampe of Day That in the East thou shew'st thy rosie Face O! it is not to mee thou leau'st that Sea And in these
curious Phidias Master Most smooth most white a piece of Alabaster Two foaming Billowes flow'd vpon her Brest VVhich did their tops with Corrall red encrest There all about as Brookes them sport at leasure VVith Circling Branches veines did swell in Azure VVithin those Crookes are only found those Isles VVhich Fortunate the dreaming old World Stiles The rest the Streames did hide but as a Lillie Suncke in a Christalls faire transparent Bellie I who yet humane weaknesse did not know For yet I had not felt that Archers Bow Ne could I thinke that from the coldest Water The winged Youngling burning Flames could scatter On euery part my vagabounding Sight Did cast and drowne mine Eyes in sweet Delight What wondrous Thing is this that Beautie 's named Said I I finde I heretofore haue dreamed And neuer knowne in all my flying Dayes Good vnto this that only merites Praise My Pleasures haue beene Paines my Comforts Crosses My Treasure Pouertie my Gaines but Losses O precious Sight which none doth els descrie Except the burning Sunne and quiuering I. And yet O deare bought Sight O would for euer I might enioy you or had ioy'd you neuer O happie Floud if so yee might abide Yet euer glorie of this Moments Pride Adjure your Rillets all now to beholde Her And in their Christall Armes to come and fold Her And sith yee may not ay your Blisse embrace Draw thousand Pourtraits of Her on your Face Pourtraits which in my Heart be more apparent If like to yours my Brest but were transparent O that I were while she doth in you play A Daulphine to transport Her to the Sea To none of all those Gods I would Her rander From Thule to Inde though I should with Her wander Oh! what is this the more I fixe mine Eye Mine Eye the more new Wonders doth espie The more I spie the more in vncouth fashion My Soule is rauish'd in a pleasant Passion But looke not Eyes as more I would haue said A Sound of whirling Wheeles me all dismayde And with the Sound foorth from the timorous Bushes With storme-like Course a sumptuous Chariot rushes A Chariot all of Gold the Wheeles were Gold The Nailes and Axetree Gold on which it roll'd The vpmost Part a Scarlet Vaile did couer More rich than Danaes Lap spred with her Louer In midst of it in a triumphing Chaire A Ladie sate miraculously faire Whose pensiue Countenance and Lookes of Honor Doe more allure the Mind that thinketh on Her Than the most wanton Face and amorous Eyes That Amathus or flowrie Paphos sees A Crue of Virgins made a Ring about Her The Diamond shee they seeme the Gold without Her Such Thetis is when to the Billowes rore With Mcrmaids nyce shee danceth on the Shore So in a sable Night the Sunnes bright Sister Among the lesser twinckling Lights doth glister Faire Yoakes of Ermelines whose Colour passe The whitest Sâ—…owes on aged Grampius Face More swift than Venus Bâ—…rds this Chariot guided To the astonish'd Bancke where as it bided But long it did not bide when poore those Streames Aye me it made transporting those rich Gemmes And by that Burthen lighter swiftly driued Till as me thought it at a Towre arriued Vpon a Rocke of Christall shining cleare Of Diamonds this Castle did appeare Whose rising Spires of Gold so high them reared That Atlas like it seem'd the Heauen they beared Amidst which Hights on Arches did arise Arches which guilt Flames brandish to the Skies Of sparking Topaces Prowde Gorgeous Ample Like to a litle Heauen a sacred Temple VVhose Walls no Windowes haue nay all the Wall Is but one Window Night there doth not fall More when the Sunne to Westerne World declineth Than in our Zenith when at Noone He shineth Two flaming Hills the Passage strait defend Which to this radiant Building doth ascend Vpon whose Arching tops on a Pilastre A Port stands open rais'd in Loues Disastre For none that narrow Bridge and Gate can passe VVho haue their Faces seene in Venus Glasse If those within but to come foorth doe venter That stately Place againe they neuer enter The Precinct strengthened with a Ditch appeares In which doth swell a Lake of Inkie Teares Of madding Louers who abide there moning And thicken euen the Aire with piteous Groning This Hold to braue the Skies the Destines fram'd The World the Fort of Chastitie it nam'd The Queene of the third Heauen once to appall it The God of Thrace here brought who could not thrall it For which he vow'd ne're Armes more to put on And on Riphean Hills was heard to grone Here Psyches Louer hurles his Darts at randon Which all for nought him serue as doth his Brandon VVhat bitter Anguish did inuade my Minde VVhen in that Place my Hope I saw confinde VVhere with high-towring Thoughts Ionely reacht Her VVhich did burne vp their Wings when they approacht Her Mee thought I set me by a Cypresse Shade And Night and Day the Hyacinthe there reade And that bewaâ—…ling Nightingalles did borrow Plaints of my Plaint and Sorrowes of my Sorrow My Food was Wâ—…rmewood mine owne Teares my Drinke My Rest on Death and sad Mishaps to thinke And for such Thoughts to haue my Heart enlarged And ease mine Eyes â—…ith brinie Tribute charged Ouer a Brooke me thought my pining Face I laid which then as grieu'd at my Disgrace A Face Me shew'd againe so ouer-clouded That at the Sight mine Eyes afray'd them shrowded This is the guerdon Loue this is the Gaine In end which to thy Seruants doth remaine I would haue said when Feare made Sleepe to leaue me And of those fatall Shadowes did bereaue me But ah alas in stead to dreame of Loue And Woes mee made them in effect to proue For what into my troubled Braine was painted I waking found that Time and Place presented SON AH burning Thoughts now let me take some Rest And your tumultuous Broyles a while appease Is 't not enough Starres Fortune Loue molest Me all at once but yee must to displease Let Hope though false yet lodge within my Brest My high Attempt though dangerous yet praise What though I trace not right Heauens steppie Wayes It doth suffice my Fall shall make me blest I doe not doate on Dayes nor feare not Death So that my Life be braue what though not long Let me Renown'd liue from the vulgare Throng And when yee list Heauens take this borrowed Breath Men but like Visions are Time all doth claime He liues who dies to winne a lasting Name MADRIGALL ADEDALE of my Death Now I resemble that subtile Worme on Earth VVhich prone to its owne euill can take no rest For with strange Thoughts possest I feede on fading Leaues Of Hope which me deceaues And thousand Webs doth warpe within my Brest And thus in end vnto my selfe I weaue A fast-shut Prison no but euen a Graue SEXTAIN THe Heauen doth not containe so many Starres So many Leaues not prostrate lie in Woods VVhen Autumne's old
Or if that any Hand to touch thee daigne Like widow'd Turtle still her Losse complaine SON SWeet Spring thou turn'st with all thy goodlie Traine Thy Head with Flames thy Mantle bright with Flowrs The Zephyres curle the greene Lockes of the Plaine The Cloudes for Ioy in Pearles weepe downe their Showrs Thou turn'st sweet Youth but ah my pleasant Howres And happie Dayes with thee come not againe The sad Memorialls only of my Paine Doe with thee turne which turne my Sweets in Sowres Thou art the same which still thou wast before Delicious wanton amiable faire But shee whose Breath embaulm'd thy wholesome Aire Is gone nor Gold nor Gemmes Her can restore Neglected Vertue Seasons goe and come While thine forgot lie closed in a Tombe SON WHat doth it serue to see Sunnes burning Face And Skies enamell'd with both the Indies Gold Or Moone at Night in jettie Charriot roll'd And all the Glorie of that starrie Place What doth it serue Earths Beautie to behold The Mountaines Pride the Meadowes flowrie Grace The statelie Comelinesse of Forrests old The Sport of Flouds which would themselues embrace What doth it serue to heare the Syluans Songs The wanton Mearle the Nightingalles sad Straines Which in daâ—…ke Shades seeme to dâ—…plore my Wâ—…ongs For what doth seruâ—… all that this World containes Sith shee for whome those once to mee were deare No Part of them can haue now with mee heere MAD. THe Beautie and the Life Of Lifes and Beauties fairest Paragon O Teares ô Griefe hang at a feeble Thread To which pale Atropos had set her Knife The Soule with many a Grone Had left each outward Part And now did take his last Leaue of the Heart Nought else did want saâ—…e Death â—…uen to be dead VVhen the afflicted Band about her Bed Seeing so faire him come in Lips Cheekes Eyes Cried ah and can Death enter Paradise SON AH Napkin ominous Present of my Deare Gift miserable which doth now remaine The only Guerdon of my helpelesse Paine When I thee got thou shew'd my State too cleare I â—…euer since haue ceased to complaine Since I the Badge of Griefe did euer weare Ioy on my Face durst neuer since appeare Care was the Food which did mee entertaine Now since made mine deare Napkin doe not grieue That I this Tribute pay thee from mine Eine And that these posting Houres I am to liue I laundre thy faire Figures in this Brine No I must yet euen begge of thee the Grace That thou wouldst daigne in Graue to shrowdemy Face MAD. POore Turtle thou bemones The Losse of thy deare Loue And I for mine send foorth these smoaking Grones Vnhappie widow'd Doue VVhile all about doe sing I at the Roote Thou on the Branche aboue Euen wearie with our Mones the gaudie Spring Yet these our Plaints wee doe not spend in vaine Sith sighing Zephyres answere vs againe SON AS in a duskie and tempestuous Night A Starre is wont to spreade her Lockes of Gold And while her pleasant Rayes abroad are roll'd Some spitefull Cloude doth robbe vs of her Sight Faire Soule in this blacke Age so shin'd thou bright And made all Eyes with Wonder thee beholde Till vglie Death depriuing vs of Light In his grimme mistie Armes thee did enfolde Who more shall vaunt true Beautie heere to see What Hope doth more in any Heart remaine That such Perfections shall his Reason raine If Beautie with thee borne too died with thee World plaine no more of Loue nor count his Harmes With his pale Trophees Death hath hung his Armes SON SIth it hath pleas'd that First and onlie Faire To take that Beautie to himselfe againe Which in this World of Sense not to remaine But to amaze was sent and home repaire The Loue which to that Beautie I did beare Made pure of mortall Spots which did it staine And endlesse which euen Death cannot impaire I place on him who will it not disdaine No shining Eyes no Lockes of curling Gold No blushing Roâ—…es on a virgine Face No outward Show no nor no inward Grace Shall Force hereafter haue my Thoughts to hold Loue heere on Earth hudge Stormes of Care doe tosse But plac'd aboue exempted is from Losse MAD. MY Thoughts hold mortall Strife I doe detest my Life And with lamenting Cries Peace to my Soule to bring Oft calles that Prince which here doth Monarchise But Hee grimme grinning King VVhâ—… Catiues scornes and doth the Blest surprise Late hauing deckt with Beauties Rose his Tombe Dâ—…sdaines to croppe a VVeede and will not come SONG IT Autumne was and on our Hemispheare Faire Ericyne began bright to appeare Night West-ward did her gemmie World decline And hide her Lights that greater Light might shine The crested Bird had giuen Alarum twise To lazie Mortalls to vnlocke their Eyes The Owle had left to plaine and from each Thorne The wing'd Musicians did salute the Morne VVho while shee glass'd her Lockes in Ganges Streames Set open wide the christall Port of Dreames When I whose Eyes no drowsie Night could close In Sleepes soft Armes did quietly repose And for that Heauens to die mee did denie Deaths Image kissed and as dead did lie I lay as dead but scarce charm'd were my Cares And slaked scarce my Sighes scarce dried my Teares Sleepe scarce the vglie Figures of the Day Had with his sable Pincell put away And left mee in a still and calmie Mood VVhen by my Bed me thought a Virgine stood A Virgine in the blooming of her Prime If such rare Beautie measur'd bee by Time Her Head a Garland ware of Opalls bright About Her flow'd a Gowne as pure as Light Deare amber Lockes gaue Vmbrage to her Face VVhere Modestie high Majestie did grace Her Eyes such Beames sent fooâ—…th that but with Paine Here weaker Sights their sparckling could sustaine No Deitie faign'd which haunts the silent Woods Is like to Her nor Syrene of the Floods Such is the golden Planet of the Yeare VVhen blushing in the East hee doth appeare Her Grace did Beautie Voyce yet Grace did passe VVhich thus through Pâ—…arles and Rubies broken was How long wilt thou said shee estrang'd from Ioy Paint Shadowes to thy selfe of false Annoy How long thy Minde with horride Shapes affrighte And in imaginarie Euills delighte Esteeme that Losse which well when view'd is Gaine Or if a Losse yet not a Losse to plaine O leaue thy tyred Soule more to molest And thinke that Woe when shortest then is best If shee for whom thou deafnest thus the Skie Bee dead what then was shee not borne to die VVas shee not mortall borne if thou dost grieue That Times should bee in which shee should not liue Ere e're shee was weepe that Dayes Wheele was roll'd VVeepe that shee liu'd not in the Age of Gold For that shee was not then thou may'st deplore As duely as that now shee is no more If onely shee had died thou sure hadst Cause To blame the Destines and Heauens yrone Lawes But looke how many
Millions Her aduance VVhat numbers with Her enter â—…n this Dance VVith those which are to come shall Heauens them staye And All 's faire Order breake thee to obaye Euen as thy Birth Death which thee doth appall A Piece is of the Life of this great All. Strong Cities die die doe high palmie Raignes And weakling thou thus to bee handled plaines If shee bee dead then shee of lothsome Dayes Hath past the Line whose Length but Losse bewrayes Then shee hath lefâ—… this filthie Stage of Care VVhere Pleasure seldome Woe doth still repaire For all the Pleasures which it doth containe Not conteruaile the smallest Minutes Paine And tell mee Thou who dost sâ—… much admire This litle Vapour Smoake this Sparke or Fire VVhich Life is call'd what doth it thee bequeath But some few Yeeres which Birth drawes out to Death VVhich if thou paragone with Lusters runne And them whose Carriere is but now begunne In Dayes great Vaste they shall farre lesse appeare Than with the Sea when matched is a Teare But why wouldst thou Her longer wish to bee One Yeere doth serue all Natures Pompe to see Nay euen one Day and Night This Moone that Sunne Those lesser Fires about this Round which runne Bee but the same which vnder Saturnes Raigne Did the serpenting Seasons enterchaine How oft doth Life grow lesse by liuing long And what excelleth but what diâ—…th yong For Age which all abhorre yet would embrace Whiles makes the Minde as wrinckled as the Face And when that Destinies conspire with Worth That Yeeres not glorie Wrong Life soone goes forth Leaue then Lâ—…nts and thinke thou didst not liue Lawes to that fiâ—…st eternall Câ—…use to giue But to obey those Lâ—…wes which hee hath giuen And bow vnto the just Decrees of Heauen Which can not erre wâ—…at euer foggie Mists Doe blinde Men in these sublunarie Lists But what if shee for whom thou spend'st those Grones And wastest Lifes deare Torch in ruethfull Mones Shee for whose sake thou hat'st the joyfull Light Court'st solitarie Shades and irkesome Night Doth liue ô if thou canst through Teares a Space Lift thy dimm'd Lights and looke vpon this Face Looke if those Eyes which foole thou didst adore Shine not more bright than they were wont before Looke if those Roses Death could ought impaire Those Roses to thee once which seem'd so faire And if these Lockes haue lost ought of that Gold VVhich earst they had when thou them didst behold I liue and happie liue but thou art dead And still shalt bee till thou be like mee made Alas whilst wee are wrapt in Gownes of Earth And blinde heere sucke the Aire of Woe beneath Each thing in Senses Ballances wee wie And but with Toyle and Paine the Trueth descrie Aboue this waste and admirable Frame This Temple visible which World wee name VVithin whose Walles so many Lamps doe burne So many Arches opposite doe turne VVhere Elementall Brethren nurse their Strife And by intestine Warres maintaine their Life There is a World a World of perfect Blisse Pure immateriall bright more farre from this Than that high Circle which the rest enspheares Is from this dull ignoble Vale of Teares A World where all is found that heere is found But further discrepant than Heauen and Ground It hath an Earth as hath this World of yours VVith Creatures peopled stor'd with Trees and Flowrs It hath a Sea like Saphire Girdle cast VVhich decketh of harmonious Shores the Waste It hath pure Fire it hath delicious Aire Moone Sunne and Starres Heauens wonderfully faire But there Flowrs doe not fade Trees grow not olde The Creatures doe not die through Heat nor Colde Sea there not tossed is nor Aire made blacke Fire doth not nurse it selfe on others Wracke There Heauens bee not constrain'd about to range For this World hath no neede of any Change The Minutes grow not Houres Houres rise not Dayes Dayes make no Months but euer-blooming Mayes Heere I remaine and hitherward doe tend All who their Spanne of Dayes in Vertue spend VVhat euer Pleasure this low Place containes It is a Glance but of what high remaines Those who perchance thinke there can nothing bee VVithout this wide Expansion which they see And that nought else mounts Starres Circumference For that nought else is subject to their Sense Feelâ—… such a Case as one whom some Abisme Of the Deepe Ocean kept had all his Time VVho borne and nourish'd there can scarcely dreame That ought can liue without that brinie Streame Cannot beleeue that there be Temples Towres VVhich goe beyond his Caues and dampish Bowres Or there bee other People Manners Lawes Than them hee fiâ—…ds within the roaring Waues That sweetâ—…r Flowrs doe spring than grow on Rockes Or Beasts bee which excell the skalie Flockes That other Elements bee to bee found Than is the Water and this Ball of Ground But thinke that Man from those Abismes were brought And saw what curious Nature here hath wrought Did see the Meads the tall and shadie Woods The Hilles did see the cleare and ambling Floods The diuerse Shapes of Beasts which Kinds foorth bring The feathred Troupes that flie and sweetly sing Did see the Palaces the Cities faire The Forme of humane Life the Fire the Aire The brightnesse of the Sunne that dimmes his Sight The Moone the gastly Splendors of the Night VVhat vncouth Rapture would his Minde surprise How would hee his late-deare Resort despise How would hee muse how foolish hee had beene To thinke nought bee but what hee there had seene VVhy did wee get this high and vaste Desire Vnto immortall things still to aspire VVhy doth our Minde extend it beyond Time And to that highest Happinesse euen clime If wee be nought but what to Sense wee seeme And Dust as most of Worldlings vs esteeme Wee bee not made for Earth though here wee come More than the Embryon for the Mothers Wombe It weepes to bee made free and wee complaine To leaue this loathsome Iayle of Care and Paine But thou who vulgare Foot-steps dost not trace Learne to raise vp thy Minde vnto this Place And what Earth-creeping Mortalles most affect If not at all to scorne yet to neglect O chase not Shadowes vaine which when obtain'd VVere better lost than with such Trauell gain'd Thinke that on Earth which Humanes Greatnesse call Is but a glorious Title to liue thrall That Scepters Diadems and Chaires of State Not in themselues but to small Mindes are great How those who loftiest mount doe hardest light And deepest Falls bee from the highest Hight How Farne an Eccho is how all Renowne Like to a blasted Rose ere Night falles downe And though it something were thinke how this Round Is but a litle Point which doth it bound O leaue that Loue which reacheth but to Dust And in that Loue eternall only trust And Beautie which when once it is possest Can only fill the Soule and make it blest Pale Enuie jealous Emulations Feares Sighs Plaints Remorse here haue no
their Flockes with downe-cast Eyes Disdaining to looke vp to angrie Skies Some broke their Pipes and some in sweet-sad Layes Made senslesse things amazed at thy Praise His Reed Alexis hung vpon a Tree And with his Teares made Doven great to bee Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore Chaste Maides which haunt faire Aganippe Well And you in Tempes sacred Shade who dwell Let fall your Harpes cease Tunes of loy to sing Discheueled make all Parnassus ring VVith Antheames sad thy Musicke Phoebus turne In dolefull Plaints whilst Ioy it selfe doth mourne Dead is thy Darling who decor'd thy Bayes VVho oft was wont to cherish thy sweet Layes And to a Trumpet raise thine amorous Stile That floting Delos enuie might this I le You Acidalian Archers breake your Bowes Your Brandons quench with Teares blot Beauties Snowes And bid your weeping Mother yet againe A second Adons Death nay Marses plaine His Eyes once were your Darts nay euen his Name VVhere euer heard did euery Heart inflame Tagus did court his Loue with golden Streames Rhein with his Townes faire Seine with all shee claimes But ah poore Louers Death did them betrey And not suspected made their Hopes his Prey Tagus bewailes his Losse with golden Streames Rhein with his Townes faire Seine with all shee claimes Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore Delicious Meads whose checkred Plaine foorth brings VVhite golden azure Flowres which once were Kings In mourning Blacke their shining Colours dye Bow downe their Heads whilst sighing Zephyres flye Queene of the Fields whose Blush makes blushe the Morne Sweet Rose a Princes Death in Purple mourne O Hyacinthes for ay your AI keepe still Nay with moe Markes of Woe your Leaues now fill And you O Flowre of Helens Teares first borne Into those liquide Pearles againe you turne Your greene Lockes Forrests cut in weeping Myrrhes The deadly Cypresse and Inke-dropping Firres Your Palmes and Mirtles change from Shadowes darke VVing'd Syrens waile and you sad Ecchoes marke The lamentable Accents of their Mone And plaine that braue Moeliades is gone Stay Skie thy turning Course and now become A stately Arche vnto the Earth his Tombe Ouer which ay the watrie Iris keepe And sad Electras Sisters which still weepe Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore Deare Ghost forgiue these our vntimely Teares By which our louing Minde though weake appeares Our Losse not Thine when wee complaine wee weepe For thee the glistring Walles of Heauen doe keepe Beyond the Planets Wheeles aboue that Source Of Spheares that turnes the lower in its Course VVhere Sunne doth neuer set nor vgly Night Euer appeares in mourning Garments dight VVhere Boreas stormie Trumpet doth not sound Nor Cloudes in Lightnings bursting Minds astound From Cares cold Climates farre and hote Desire VVhere Time is banish'd Ages ne're exspire Amongst pure Sprights enuironed with Beames Thou think'st all things below to bee but Dreames And joy'st to looke downe to the azur'd Barres Of Heauen indented all with streaming Starres And in their turning Temples to behold In siluer Robe the Moone the Sunne in Gold Like young Eye-speaking Louers in a Dance VVith Majestie by Turnes retire aduance Thou wondrest Earth to see hang like a Ball Clos'd in the gastly Cloyster of this All And that poore Men should proue so madly fond To tosse themselues for a small Foot of Ground Nay that they euen dare braue the Powers aboue From this base Stage of Change that cannot moue All worldly Pompe and Pride thou seest arise Like Smoake that scattreth in the emptie Skies Other Hilles and Forrests other sumptuous Towres Amaz'd thou find'st excelling our poore Bowres Courts voyde of Flatterie of Malice Mindes Pleasure which lasts not such as Reason blindes Farre sweeter Songs thou hear'st and Carrolings VVhilst Heauens doe dance and Quire of Angells sings Than moldie Mindes could faine euen our Annoy If it approach that Place is chang'd in Ioy. Rest blessed Spright rest saciate with the Sight Of him whose Beames both dazell and delight Life of all Liues Cause of each other Cause The Spheare and Center where the Minde doth pause Narcissus of himselfe himselfe the Well Louer and Beautie that doth all excell Rest happie Ghost and wonder in that Glasse VVhere seene is all that shall be is or was VVhile shall be is oâ—… was doe passe away And nought remaine but an Eternall Day For euer rest thy Praise Fame may enroule In golden Annalles whilst about the Pole The slow Bootes turnes or Sunne doth rise VVith skarlet Scarfe to cheare the mourning Skies The Virgines to thy Tombe may Garlands beare Of Flowres and on each Flowre let fall a Teare Moeliades sweet courtly Nymphes deplore From Thuly to Hydaspes pearlie Shore SONNET A Passing Glance a Lightning long the Skies That vsh'ring Thunder dies straight to our Sight A Sparke of Contraries which doth arise Then drownes in the huge Depthes of Day and Night Is this small-Small call'd Life held in such Price Of blinded Wights who nothing judge aright Of Parthian Shaft so swift is not the Flight As Life that wastes it selfe and liuing dies O! what is humane Greatnesse Valour Wit What fading Beautie Riches Honour Praise To what doth serue in golden Thrones to sit Thrall Earths vaste Round triumphall Arches raise All is a Dreame learne in this Princes Fall In whome saue Death nought mortall was at all Of IET Or Porphyrie Or that white Stone PAROS affordes alone Or those in Azure Dye Which seeme to scorne the Skie Here MEMPHIS Wonders doe not set Nor ARTEMISIAS hudge Frame That keepes so long her LOVERS Name Make no great Marble Atlas tremble with Gold To please a vulgare EYE that doth behold The Muses Phoebus LOVE haue raised of their Teares A chrystall Tombe to Him through which his Worth appeares VRANIA OR Spirituall Poems VRANIA OR Spirituall Poems TRiumphing Chariots Statues Crownes of Bayes Skie threatning Arches the Rewards of Worth Workes heauenly wise in sweet â—…armonious Layes Which Sprights diuine vnto the World set forth States which ambitious Mindes with Blood doe raise From frozen Tanais to Sunne-gilded Gange Giganticke Frames held Wonders rarely strange Like Spiders Webbes are made the Sport of Dayes All onâ—…y constant is in constant Change What done is is vndone and when vndone Into some other Fashion doth it range Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone Where for my Minde aboue Time Motion Place Thee raise and Steps vnknowne to Nature Trace TOo long I follow'd haue my fond Desire And too long painted on the Ocean Streames Too long Refreshment sought amidst the Fire And hunted Ioyes which to my Soule were Blames Ah! when I had what most I did admire And seene of Lifes Delights the last Extreames I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer A Nought a Thought a Show of mocking Dreames Hencefoorth on thee mine only Good I 'll thinke For only thou canst grant what
I doe craue Thy Naile my Penne shall bee thy Blood mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Graue And till that Soule forth of this Bodie flie No Hope I 'll haue but only onelie Thee TO spreade the azure Canopie of Heauen And make it twinckle all with Spanges of Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so euen That it should all and nought should it vphold To giue strange Motions to the Planets seuen And Ioue to make so meeke and Mars so bold To temper what is moist drie hote and cold Of all their Iarres that sweet Accords are giuen LORD to thy Wit is nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glorie laid aside Come basely in Mortalitie to bide And die for them deseru'd eternall Plight A Wonder is so farre aboue our Wit That Angells stand amaz'd to thinke on it COme forth come forth yee blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Towne Come see that King who all this All commands Now ouercharg'd with Loue die for his owne Looke on those Nailes which pierce his Feete and Hands What a strange Diademe his Browes doth crowne Beholde his pallide Face his Eyes which sowne And what a Throng of Thieues him mocking stands Come forth yee Empyrean Troupes come forth Preserue this sacred Blood which Earth adornes Gather those liquide Roses from his Thornes O! to bee lost they bee of too much Worth For Streames 1 Iuice 2 Baulme 3 they are which quench 1 killes 2 charmes 3 Of God 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the Wrath 1 the Life 2 the Harmes 3 SOule which to Hell wast thrall Hee hee for thine Offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soueraigne Excellence O Life of all that liues Eternall Bountie which all Goodnesse giues How could Death mount so hie No Wit this Point can reach Faith onely doth vs teach For vs hee died at all who could not die IF with such passing Beautie choise Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible which World we name Yet sillie Mansion but of mortall Wights How many Wonders what amazing Lights Must that triumphing Seate of Glorie claime Which doth transcend all this great All 's high Hights Of whose bright Sunne ours heere is but a Beame O blest Abode ô happie dwelling Place Where visiblie th'Inuisible doth raigne Blest People who doe see true Beauties Face With whose darke Shadowes Hee but Earth doth daigne All Ioy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Match'd with your endlesse Blisse and happie Life LOue which is heere a Care That Wit and Will doth marre Vncertaine Truce and a most certaine Warre A shrill tempestuous Winde VVhich doth disturbe the Minde And like wilde Waues our Dessignes all commoue Among those Sprights aboue VVhich see their Makers Face It a Contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure voide of Griefe a constant Rest Eternall Ioy which nothing can molest WHat haplesse Hap had I now to bee borne In these vnhappie Times and dying Dayes Of this else-doating World when Good decayes Loue is quench'd forth and Vertue held a Scorne When such are onely priz'd by wretched Wayes Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Auarice and Lust are counted Praise And noble Mindes liue Orphane like forlorne Why was not I into that golden Age When Gold yet was not knowne and those blacke Artes By which base Mortalles vildely play their Parts And staine with horride Actes Earths stately Stage Then to haue beene Heauen it had beene my Blissâ—… But blesse mee now and take mee soone from this THrise happie hee who by some shadie Groue Farre from the clamarous World doth liue his owne Though solitare yet who is not alone But doth conuerse with that Eternall Loue. O how more sweet is Birds harmonious Mone Or the soft Sobbings of the widow'd Doue Than those smoothe Whisp'rings neare a Princes Throne Which Good make doubtfull doe the Euill approue O how more sweet is Zephyres wholesome Breath And Sighs perfum'd which doe the Flowres vnfold Than that Applause vaine Honour doth bequeath How sweete are Streames to Poyson drunke in Gold The World is full of Horrours Falshoods Slights Woods silent Shades haue only true Delights WHy Worldlings doe ye trust fraile Honours Dreames And leane to guilded Glories which decay Why doe yee toyle to registrate your Names In ycie Columnes which soone melt away True Honour is not here that Place it claimes Where blacke-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no farre-shining Lampe diues in the Sea But an eternall Sunne spreades lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sprights stand gazing on their soueraigne Blisse Where Yeeres not hold it in their cankring Hands But who once noble euer noble is Looke home lest he your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall AStrea in this Time Now doth not liue but is fled vp to Heauen Or if shee liue it is not without Crime That shee doth vse her Power And shee is no more Virgine but a Whoure Whoure prostitute for Gold For shee doth neuer holde her Ballance euen And when her Sword is roll'd The Bad Injurious False shee not o'rethrowes But on the Innocent lets fall her Blowes WHat serues it to bee good Goodnesse by thee The Holy-wise is thought a Foole to bee For thee the Man to Temperance inclin'de Is held but of a base and abject Minde The Continent is thought for thee but cold Who yet was good that euer died old The pittifull who others feares to kill Is kill'd himselfe and Goodnesse doth him ill The meeke and humble Man who cannot braue By thee is to some Giants Brood made Slaue Poore Goodnesse thine thou to such Wrongs sett'st forth That ô I feare mee thou art nothing worth And when I looke to Earth and not to Heauen Ere I were turned Doue I would bee Rauen. GReat GOD whom wee with humble Thoughts adore Eternall infinite almightie King Whose Pallace Heauen transcends whose Throne before Archangells serue and Seraphins doe sing Of Nought who wrought all that with wondring Eyes VVee doe behold within this spacious Round VVho mak'st the Rockes to rocke and stand the Skies At whose Command the horride Thunders sound Ah! spare vs Wormes weigh not how wee alas Euill to our Selues against thy Lawes rebell VVash off those Spots which still in Conscience Glasse Though wee bee loth to looke wee see too well Deseru'd Reuenge ô doe not doe not take If thou reuenge what shall abide thy Blow Passe shall this World this World which thou didst make VVhich should not perish till thy Trumpet blow For who is hee whom Parents Sinne not staines Or with his owne Offence is not defil'd Though Iustice Ruine threaten Iustice Raines Let Mercie hold and bee both just and milde Lesse are our Faults farre farre thaâ—… is thy Loue O! what can better seeme thy Pow'r diuine Than those who Euill deserue thy Goodnesse proue And where thou thunder shouldst there
from mee those Eyes Sweet I would you aduise To choose some other Fanne than that white Hand For if yee doe for Trueth most true this know That Sunnes ere long must needes consume warme Snow Sleeping Beautie O Sight too dearely bought Shee sleepes and though those Eyes VVhich lighten Cupids Skies Bee clos'd yet such a Grace Enuironeth that Place That I through Wonder to grow faint am brought Sunnes if ecclips'd yee haue such Power diuine O! how can I endure you when yee shine The qualitie of a Kisse THe Kisse with so much Strife VVhich I late got sweet Heart VVas it a Signe of Death or was it Life Of Life it could not bee For I by it did sigh my Soule in thee Nor was it Death Death doth no Ioy impart Thou silent stand'st ah what thou didst bequeath To mee a dying Life was liuing Death Of PHILLIS IN Peticote of Greene Her Haire about her Eine Phillis beneath an Oake Sate milking her faire Flocke Among that strained Moysture rare Delight Her Hand seem'd Milke in Milke it was so white Kisses desired THough I with strange Desire To kisse those rosie Lips am set on Fire Yet will I cease to craue Sweet Touches in such store As hee who long before From Lesbia them in thousands did receaue Heart mine but once mee kisse And I by that sweet Blisse Euen sweare to cease you to importune more Poore one no Number is Another Word of mee yee shall not heare After one Kisse but still one Kisse my Deare Of DAMETAS DAMETAS dream'd he saw his Wife at Sport And found that sight was through the hornie Port. The Canon WHen first the Canon from her gaping Throte Against the Heauen her roaring Sulphure shote Ioue wak'ned with the Noyce and ask'd with Wonder VVhat mortall Wight had stollen from him his Thunder His christall Towres hee fear'd but Fire and Aire So deepe did stay the Ball from mounting there APELLES enamour'd of CAMPASPE ALEXANDERS Mistresse POore Painter whilst I sought To counterfaite by Arte The fairest Frame that Nature euer wrought And hauing limm'd each Part Except her matchlesse Eyes Scarce on those Twinnes I gaz'd As Lightning falles from Skies When straight my Hand benumm'd was Mind amaz'd And ere that Pincell halfe them had exprest Loue all had drawne no grauen within my Brest CAMPASPE ON Starres shall I exclame VVhich thus my Fortune change Or shall I else reuenge Vpon my selfe this shame Vnconstant Monarch or shall I thee blame Who let'st APELLES proue The sweet Delights of Alexanders Loue No Starres my selfe and thee I all forgiue And joye that thus I liue Kings know not Beautie hence mine was despis'd The Painter did and mee hee dearly priz'd Vnpleasant Musicke IN Fields Ribaldo stray'd Mayes Tapestrie to see And hearing on a Tree A Cuckooe sing hee sigh'd and softly said Loe how alas euen Birds sit moâ—…king mâ—…e A Iest. IN a most holy Church a holy Man Vnto a holy Saint with Visage wan And Eyes like Fountaines mumbled forth a Prayer And with strange Words and Sigâ—…es made blacke the Aire And hauing long so stay'd and long long pray'd A thousand Crosses on himselfe hee lay'd Then with some sacred Beads hung on his Arme His Eyes his Mouth Brest Temples did hee charme Thus not content strange Worship hath none End To kisse the Earth at last hee did pretend And bowing downe besought with humble Grace An aged Woman neare to giue some Place Shee turn'd and turning vp her Pole beneath Said Sir kisse heere for it is all but Earth NARCISSVS FLouds cannot quench my Flames ah in this Well I burne not drowne for what I cannot tell TO THAVMANTIA singing IS it not too too much Thou late didst to mee proue A Basiliske of Loue And didst my Wits bewitch Vnlesse to cause more Harme Made Syrene too thou with thy Voyce mee charme Ah! though thou so my Reason didst controule That to thy Lookes I could not proue a Mole Yet doe mee not that Wrong As not to let mee turne Aspe to thy Song Of her Dog WHen her deare Bosome clips That litle Curre which faunes to touch her Lips Or when it is his Hap To lie lapp'd in her Lap O! it growes Noone with mee With hotter-pointed Beames My burning Planet streames VVhat Rayes were earst in Lightnings changed bee VVhen oft I muse how I to those Extreames Am brought I finde no Cause except that shee In Loues bright Zodiacke hauing trac'd each Roome To fatall Syrius now at last is come A Kisse HArke happie Louers harke This first and last of Ioyes This Sweetner of Annoyes This Nectare of the Gods Yee call a Kisse is with it selfe at ods And halfe so sweet is not In equall Measure got At Light of Sunne as it is in the Darke Harke happie Louers harke Cornucopia IF for one only Horne Which Nature to him gaue So famous is the noble Vnicorne What Praise should that Man haue Whose Head a Ladie braue Doth with a goodlie Paire at once adorne Of AMINTAS OVer a christall Source Amintas layde his Face Of popling Streames to see the restlesse Course But scarce hee had o'reshadowed the Place When spying in the Ground a Childe arise Like to himselfe in Stature Face and Eyes Hee rose o'rejoy'd and cried Deare Mates approch see whom I haue descried The Boy of whom strange Stories Shepheards tell Oft-called Hylas dwelleth in this Well PAMPHILVS SOme Ladies wed some loue and some adore them I like their wanton Sport then care not for them Vpon a Glasse IF thou wouldst see Threedes purer than the Gold VVhere Loue his Wealth doth show But take this Glasse and thy faire Haire behold If Whitenesse thou wouldst see more white than Snow And reade on Wonders Booke Take but this Glasse and on thy Forâ—…head looke VVouldst thou in Winter see a crimsin Rose VVhose Thornes doe hurt each Heart Looke but in Glasse how thy sweet Lips doe close Wouldst thou see Planets which all Good impart Or Meteores diuine But take this Glasse and gaze vpon thine Eine No Planets Rose Snow Gold cannot compare With you deare Eyes Lips Browes and amber Haire Of a Bee AS an audacious Knight Come with some Foe to fight His Sword doth brandish makes his Armour ring So this prowde Bee at home perhaps a King Did buzzing flie about And Tyrant after thy faire Lip did sting O Champion strange as stout Who hast by Nature found Sharpe Armes and Trumpet shrill to sound and wound Of that same O Doe not kill that Bee That thus hath wounded thee Sweet it was no Despight But Hue did him deceaue For when thy Lips did close Hee deemed them a Rose What wouldst thou further craue Hee wanting Wit and blinded with Delight Would faine haue kiss'd but Mad with Ioy did bite Of a Kisse AH of that cruell Bee Thy Lips haue suckt too much For when they mine did touch I found thaâ—… both they hurt and sweetned mee This by the Sting they haue And
POEMS BY WILLIAM DRVMMOND of Hawthrone-denne The second Impression EDINBVRGH Printed by ANDRO HART 1616. To the Author WHile thou dost praise the Roses Lillies Gold Which in a dangling Tresse and Face appeare Still stands the Sunne in Skies thy Songs to heare A Silence sweet each Whispering Wind doth hold Sleepe in Pasitheas Lap his Eyes doth fold The Sword falls from the God of the fift Spheare The Heards to feede the Birds to sing forbeare Each Plant breathes Loue each Flood and Fountaine cold And hence it is that that once Nymphe now Tree Who did th' Amphrisian Shepheards Sighes disdaine And scorn'd his Layes moâ—…'d by a sweeter Veine Is become pittifull and followes Thee Thee loues and vanteth that shee hath the Grace A Garland for thy Lockes to enterlace PARTHENIVS POEMS BY W. D. THE FIRST PART SONNET IN my first Yeeres and Prime yet not at Hight When sweet Conceits my Wits did entertaine Ere Beauties Force I knew or false Delight Or to what Oare shee did her Captiues chaine Led by a sacred Troupe of Phoebus Traine I first beganne to reade then Loue to write And so to praise a perfect Red and White But God wot wist not what was in my Braine Loue smylde to see in what an awfull Guise I turn'd those Antiques of the Age of Gold And that I might moe Mysteries behold Hee set so faire a Volumne to mine Eyes That I quires clos'd which dead dead Sighs but breath Ioye on this liuing Booke to reade my Death SON I Know that all beneath the Moone decayes And what by Mortalles in this World is brought In Times great Periods shall returne to nought That fairest States haue fatall Nights and Dayes I know how all the Muses heauenly Layes With Toyle of Spright which are so dearely bought As idle Sounds of few or none are sought And that nought lighter is than airie Praise I know fraile Beautie like the purple Flowre To which one Morne of Birth and Death affords That Loue a Iarring is of Mindes Accords Where Sense and Will inuassall Reasons Power Know what I list this all can not mee moue But that ô mee I both must write and loue SON YEe who so curiously doe paint your Thoughts Enlightning eu'rie Line in such a Guise That they seeme rather to haue fallen from Skies Than of a humane Hand bee mortall Draughts In one Part Sorrow so tormented lies As if his Life at eu'ry Sigh would parte Loue here blindfolded stands with Bow and Dart There Hope lookes pale Despaire with rainie Eyes Of my rude Pincell looke not for such Arte My Wit I finde now lessened to deuise So high Conceptions to expresse my Smart And some thinke Loue but fain'd if too too wise These troubled Words and Lines confus'd you finde Are like vnto their Modell my sicke Minde SON FAire is my Yoke though grieuous bee my Paines Sweet are my Wounds although they deeply smart My Bit is Gold though shortned bee the Raines My Bondage braue though I may not depart Although I burne the Fire which doth impart Those Flames so sweet reuiuing Force containes That like Arabias Bird my wasted Heart Made quicke by Death more liuely still remaines I joye though oft my waking Eyes spend Teares I neuer want Delight euen when I grone Best companied when most I am alone A Heauen of Hopes I haue midst Hells of Feares Thus euery Way Contentment strange I finde But most in Her rare Beautie my rare Minde SON HOw that vaste Heauen intitled First is rold If any other Worlds beyond it lie And People liuing in Eternitie Or Essence pure that doth this All vphold What Motion haue those fixed Sparkes of Gold The wandring Carbuncles which shine from hie Bâ—… Sprights or Bodies contrare-Wayes in Skie If they bee turn'd and mortall Things behold How Sunne postes Heauen about how Nights pale Queene With borrowed Beames lookes on this hanging Round What Cause faire Iris hath and Monsters seene In Aires laâ—…ge Fields of Light and Seas profound Did hold my wandâ—…ing Thoughts when thy sweet Eye Bade mee leaue all and only thinke on Thee SON VAunt not faire Heauens of your two glorious Lights Which though most bright yet see not when they shine And shining cannot shew their Beames diuine Both in one Place but parte by Dayes and Nights Earth vaunt not of those Treasures yee enshrine Held only deare because hidde from our Sights Your pure and burnish'd Gold your Diamonds fine Snow-passing Iuorie that the Eye delights Nor Seas of those deare Wares are in you found Vaunt not rich Pearle red Corrall which doe stirre A fond Desire in Fooles to plunge your Ground Those all more faire are to bee had in Her Pearle Iuorie Corrall Diamond Sunnes Gold Teeth Necke Lips Heart Eyes Haire are to behold SON THat learned Graecian who did so excell In Knowledge passing Sense that hee is nam'd Of all the after-Worlds Diuine doth tell That at the Time when first our Soules are fram'd Ere in these Mansions blinde they come to dwell They liue bright Rayes of that Eternall Light And others see know loue in Heauens great Hight Not toylde with ought to Reason doth rebell Most true it is for straight at the first Sight My Minde mee told that in some other Place It elsewhere saw the Idea of that Face And lou'd a Loue of heauenly pure Delight No Wonder now I feele so faire a Flame Sith I Her lou'd ere on this Earth shee came SON NOw while the Night her sable Vaile hath spred And silently her restie Coach doth rolle Rowsing with Her from TETHIS azure Bed Those starrie Nymphes which dance about the Pole While CYNTHIA in purest Cipres cled The Latmian Shepheard in a Trance descries And whiles lookes pale from hight of all the Skies Whiles dyes her Beauties in a bashfull Red While Sleepe in Triumph closed hath all Eyes And Birds and Beastes a Silence sweet doe keepe And PROTE vs monstrous People in the Deepe The Winds and Waues husht vp to rest entise I wake muse weepe and who my Heart hath slaine See still before me to augment my Paine SON SLeepe Silence Child sweet Father of soft Rest Prince whose Approach Peace to all Mortalls brings Indifferent Host to Shepheards and to Kings Sole Comforter of Minds with Griefe opprest Loe by thy charming Rod all breathing things Lie slumbring with forgetfulnesse possest And yet o're me to spred thy drowsie Wings Thou spares alas who cannot be thy Guest Since I am thine O come but with that Face To inward Light which thou art wont to show With fained Solace ease a true felt Woe Or if deafe God thou doe denie that Grace Come as thou wilt and what thou wilt bequeath I long to kisse the Image of my Death SON FAire Moone who with thy Cold and Siluer Shine Makes sweet the Horrour of the dreadfull Night Delighting the weake Eye with Smiles diuine Which PHEBVS dazells with his too much Light Bright Queene of the first
Heauen if in thy Shrine By turning oft and Heauenseternall Might Thou hast not yet that once sweet Fire of thine ENDEMION forgot and Louers Plight If Cause like thine may Pitie breede in thee And Pitie somewhat els to it obtaine Since thou hast Power of Dreames as well as Hee Who paints strange Figures in the slumbring Braine Now while She sleepes in dolefull Guise her Show These Teares and the blacke Mappe of all my Woe SON LAmpe of Heauens Christall Hall that brings the Hours Eye-dazaler who makes the vglie Night At thine Approach flie to her slumbrie Bowrs And fills the World with Wonder and Delight Life of all Lifes Death giuer by thy Flight To Southerne Pole from these sixe Signes of ours Gold-smith of all the Starres with Siluer bright Who Moone enamells Apelles of the Flowrs Ah from those watrie Plaines thy golden Head Raise vp and bring the so long lingring Morne A Graue nay Hell I finde become this Bed This Bed so grieuously where I am torne But woe is me though thou now brought the Day Day shall but serue more Sorrowe to display SONG IT was the time when to our Northerne Pole The brightest Lampe of Heauen beginnes to rolle When Earth more wanton in new Robes appeareth And scorning Skies her Flowrs in Raine-bowes beareth On which the Aire moist Saphires doth bequeath Which quake to feele the kissing Zephires breath When Birds from shadie Groues their Loue foorth warble And Sea like Heauen Heauen lookes like smoothest Marble When I in simple Course free from all Cares Farre from the muddie Worlds captiuing Snares By Oras flowrie Bancks alone did wander Ora that sports her like to old Meander A Floud more worthie Fame and lasting Praise Than that which Phaetons Fall so high did raise Into whose moouing Glasse the Milke-white Lillies Doe dresse their Tresses and the Daffadillies Where Ora with a Wood is crown'd about And seemes forget the Way how to come out A Place there is where a dâ—…licious Fountaine Springs from the swelling Paps of a proud Mountaine Whose falling Streames the quiet Caues doe wound And make the Ecchoes shrill resound that Sound The Lawrell there the shining Channell graces The Palme her Loue with long-stretch'd Armes embraces The Poplar spreds her Branches to the Skie And hides from sight that azure Cannopie The Streames the Trees the Trees their leaues still nourish That Place graue Winter finds not without Flourish If liuing Eyes Elysian fields could see This litle Arden might Elysium bee Here Diane often vsed to repose Her And Acidalias Queene with Mars reioyce her The Nymphes oft here doe bring their Maunds with Flowres And Anadeames weaue for their Paramours The Satyres in those Shades are heard to languish And make the Shepheards Partners of their Anguish The Shepheards who in Barkes of tender Trees Doe graue their Loues Disdaines and Ielousies Which Phillis when there by Her Flockes she feedeth With Pitie whyles sometime with laughter reedeth Neare to this place when Sunne in midst of Day In highest top of Heauen his Coach did stay And as aduising on his Carier glanced The way did rest the space he had aduanced His panting Steeds along those Fields of light Most princely looking from that gastly hight When most the Grashoppers are heard in Meadowes And loftie Pines haue small or els no Shadowes It was my hap O wofull hap to bide Where thickâ—…st Shades me from all Rayes did hide Into a shut-vp-place some Syluans Chamber Whose Seeling spred was with the Lockes of Amber Of new-bloom'd Sicamors Floore wrought with Flowres More sweâ—…te and rich than those in Princes Bowres Here Adon blush't and Clitia all amazed Lookt pale with Him who in the Fountaine gazed The Aramanthus smyl'd and that sweet Boy Which sometime was the God of Delos joy The braue Carnation speckled Pinke here shined The Violet her fainting Head declined Beneath a drowsie Chasbow all of Gold The Marigoâ—…d her leaues did here vnfold Now â—…hile that rauish'd with delight and wonder Halfe in a trance I lay those Archers vnder The season silence place did all entise Eyes heauie lids to bring Night on their Skies Which softly hauing stollen themselues together Like Euening Clouds me plac'd I wote not whether As Cowards leaue the Fort which they should keepe My senses one by one gaue place to Sleepe Who followed with a Troupe of golden Slombers Thrust from my quiet Braine all base Encombers And thrise me touching with his Rod of Gold A Heauen of Visions in my Temples roll'd To countervaile those Pleasures were bereft me Thus in his silent Prison clos'd he left me Me thought through all the Neighbour Woods a noyce Of Quiristers more sweet than Lute or voyce For those harmonious sounds to IOVE are giuen By the swift touches of the nyne-string'd Heauen Such are and nothing else did wound mine Eare No Soule that then became all Eare to heare And whilst I listning lay O gastly wonder I saw a pleasant Mirtle cleaue asunder A Mirtle great with birth from whose rent wombe Three naked Nymphes more white than snow foorth come For Nymphes they seem'd about their heauenly Faces In Waues of Gold did flow their curling Tresses About each Arme their Armes more white than milke Each weare a blushing Armelet of silke The Goddesses such were that by Scamander Appeared to the Phrygian Alexander Aglaia and her Sisters such perchance Be when about some sacred Spring they dance But scarce the Groue their naked Beauties graced And on the amorous Verdure had not traced When to the Floud they ran the Floud in Robes Of curling Christall to brests Yuorie Globes Who wrapt them all about yet seem'd take pleasure To showe warme Snowes throughout her liquid Azure Looke how Prometheus Man when heauenly Fire First gaue him Breath Dayes Brandon did admire And wondred of this Worlds Amphitheater So gaz'd I on those new guests of the Water All three were faire yet one excell'd as farre The rest as Phebus doth the Cyprian Starre Or Diamonds small Gemmes or Gemmes doe other Or Pearles that shining shell is call'd their Mother Her haire more bright than are the Mornings Beames Hang in a golden shower aboue the Streames And sweetly tous'd her forehead sought to couer VVhich seene did straight a Skie of Milke discouer VVith two faire Browes Loues Bowes which neuer bend But that a Golden Arrow foorth they send Beneath the which two burning Planets glancing Flasht Flames of Loue for Loue there still is dancing Her either Cheeke resembl'd a blushing Morne Or Roses Gueules in field of Lillies borne Betwixt the which a Wall so faire is raised That it is but abased euen when praised Her Lips like Rowes of Corrall soft did swell And th' one like th' other only doth excell The Tyrian Fish lookes pale pale looke the Roses The Rubies pale when Mouths sweet Cherrie closes Her Chinne like siluer Phebe did appeare Darke in the midst to make the rest more cleare Her Necke seem'd fram'd by
Spheare To that deare Planet of my Heart whose Light Made often blush the glorious Queene of Night While Shee in thee more beautious did appeare What mourning Weedes alas now do'st thou weare How loathsome to mine Eyes is thy sad Sight How poorely look'st thou with what heauie cheare Since that Sunne set which made thee shine so bright Vnhappie now thee close for as of late To wondring Eyes thou wast a Paradise Bereft of Her who made thee fortunate A Gulfe thou art whence Cloudes of Sighes arise But vnto none so noysome as to mee Who hourly see my murth'red Ioyes in thee SON ARe these the flowrie Bankes is this the Mead Where Shee was wont to passe the pleasant hours Did here her Eyes exhale mine Eyes salt Showrs When on her Lap I laide my wearie Head Is this the goodly Elme did vs o'respread Whose tender Rine cut out in curious Flowrs By that white Hand containâ—…s those Flames of Ours Is this the rusling Spring vs Musicke made Deflourish'd Mead where is your heauenly Hue Banke where that Arras did you late adorne How looke yee Elme all withered and forlorne Onely sweet Spring nought altered seemes in you But while here chang'd each other thing appeares To sowre your Streames take of mine Eyes these Teares SON ALexis here shee stay'd among these Pines Sweet Hermitresse shee did alone repaire Here did shee spreade the Treasure of her Haire More rich than that brought from the Colchian Mines Shee set Her by these musket Eglantines The happie Place the Print seemes yet to beare Her Voyce did sweeten here thy sugred Lines To which Winds Trees Beasts Birds did lend their Eare. Mee here shee first perceiu'd and here a Morne Of bright Carnations did o'respreade her Face Here did shee sigh here first my Hopes were borne And I first got a Pledge of promis'd Grace But ah what seru'd it to bee happie so Sith passed Pleasures double but new Woe SON O Night cleare Night O darke and gloomie Day O wofull Waking O Soule-pleasing Sleepe O sweet Conceits which in my Braines did creepe Yet sowre Conceits which went so soone away A Sleepe I had more than poore Words can say For clos'd in Armes mee thought I did thee keepe A sorie Wretch plung'd in Mis-fortunes deepe Am I not wak'd when Light doth Lies bewray O that that Night had euer still bene blacke O that that Day had neuer yet begunne And you mine Eyes would yee no time saw Sunne To haue your Sunne in such a Zodiacke Loe what is good of Life is but a Dreame When Sorrow is a neuer-ebbing Streame SON HAire precious Haire which Midas Hand did straine Part of the Wreathe of Gold that crownes those Browes Which Winters whitest White in Whitenesse staine And Lillie by Eridians Banke that growes Haire fatall Present which first caus'd my Woes When loose yee hang like Danaës golden Raine Sweet Nettes which sweetly doe all Hearts enchaine Strings deadly Strings with which Loue bends his Bowes How are yee hither come tell me O Haire Deare Armelet for what thus were yee giuen I know a Badge of Bondage I you weare Yet Haire for you ô that I were a Heauen Like Berenices Locke that yee might shine But brighter farre about this Arme of mine MAD. VNhappie Light Doe not approach to bring the wofull Day When I must bid for ay Farewell to Her and liue in endlesse Plight Faire Moone with gentle Beames The Sight who neuer marres Long cleare Heauens sable Vault and you bright Starres Your golden Lockes long glasse in Earths pure Streames Let Phoebus neuer rise To dimme your watchfull Eyes Prolong alas prolong my short Delight And if yee can make an eternall Night SON WIth Griefe in Heart and Teares in sowning Eyes When I to Her had giu'n a sad Fare-well Close sealed with a Kisse and Dew which fell On my else-moystned Face from Beauties Skies So strange Amazement did my Minde surprise That at each Pace I fainting turn'd againe Like One whome a Torpedo stupifies Not feeling Honours Bit nor Reasons Raine But when fierce Starres to parte mee did constraine With backe-cast Lookes I â—…nui'd both and bless'd The happie Walles and Place did Her containe Till that Sights Shafts their flying Obiect miss'd So wailing parted Ganamede the faire When Eagles Talents bare him through the Aire MAD. I Feare not hencefoorth Death Sith after this Departure yet I breath Let Rocks and Seas and Wind Their highest Treasons show Let Skie and Earth combinde Striue if they can to ende my Life and Woe Sith Griefe can not mee nothing can o'rethrow Or if that ought can cause my fatall Lot It will bee when I heare I am forgot SON HOw many times Nights silent Queene her Face Hath hid how oft with Starres in siluer Maske In Heauens great Hall shee hath begunne her Taske And chear'd the waking Eye in lower Place How oft the Sunne hath made by Heauens swift Race The happie Louer to forsake the Brest Of his deare Ladie wishing in the West His golden Coach to runne had larger Space I euer count and number â—…ince alas I bade Farewell to my Heaâ—…ts dearest Guest The Miles I compasse and in Minde I chase The Flouds and Mountaines holde mee from my Rest But woe is mee long count and count may I Ere I see Her whose Absence makes mee die SON SO grieuous is my Paine so painefull Life That oft I finde mee in the Armes of Death But Breath halfe gone that Tyrant called Death Who others killes restoreth mee to Life For while I thinke how Woe shall ende with Life And that I quiet Peace shall ioye by Death That Thought euen doth o'repowre the Paines of Death And call mee home againe to lothed Life Thus doth mine euill transcend both Life and Death While no Death is so bad as is my Life Nor no Life such which doth not ende by Death And Protean Changes turne my Death and Life O happie those who in their Birth finde Death Sith but to languish Heauen affordeth Life SON FAme who with golden Pennes abroad dost range Where Phoebus leaues the Night and brings the Day Fame in one Place who restlesse dost not stay Till thou hast flowne from Atlas vnto Gange Fame Enemie to Time that still doth change And in his changing Course would make decay What here below he findeth in his Way Euen making Vertue to her selfe looke strange Daughter of Heauen Now all thy Trumpets sound Raise vp thy Head vnto the highest Skie With Wonder blaze the Gifts in Her are found And when shee from this mortall Globe shall flie In thy wide Mouth keepe long long keepe her Name So thou by Her shee by thee liue shall Fame MAD. THe Iuorie Corrall Gold Of Brest of Lips of Haire So liuely Sleepe doth show to inward Sight That wake I thinke I hold No Shadow but my Faire My selfe so to deceaue With long-shut Eyes I shunne the irkesome Light Such Pleasure thus I haue Delighting in false Gleames If
azure Lists beginst thy Race Thou shin'st not to the Dead in any Place And I dead from this World am gone away Or if I seeme a Shadow yet to stay It is a while but to bemone my Case My Mirth is lost my Comforts are dismay'd And vnto sad Mis-haps their Place doe yeeld My Knowledge doth resemble a bloudie field Where I my Hopes and Helps see prostrate layd So painefull is Lifes Course which I haue runne That I doe wish it neuer had begunne SONG SAd Damon beeing come To that for euer lamentable Tombe Which those eternall Powers that all controule Vnto his liuing Soule A melancholie Prison had prescriu'd Of Hue of Heate of Motion quite depriu'd In Armes wake trembling cold A Marble hee the Marble did infold And hauing made it warme with many a Showre VVhich dimmed Eyes did powre VVhen Griefe had giuen him leauâ—… and Sighes them stay'd Thus with a sad alas at last he said VVho would haue thought to mee The Place where thou didst lie could grieuous bee And that deare Body long thee hauing sought O mee who would haue thought Thee once to finde it should my Soule confound And giue my Heart than Death a deeper Wound Thou didst disdaine my Teares But grieue not that this ruethfull Stone them beares Mine Eyes serue only now for thee to weepe And let their Course them keepe Although thou neuer wouldst them Comfort show Doe not repine they haue Part of thy Woe Ah Wretch too late I finde How Vertues gâ—…ious Titles proue but Winde For if shee any could release from Death Thou yet eniâ—…y'd hadst Breath For if shee ere appear'd to mortall Eine It was in thy faire Shape that shee was seene But ô if I was made For thee with thee why too am I not dead VVhy doe outragious Fates which dimm'd thy Sight Let mee see hatefull Light They without mee made Death thee to surprise Tyrants perhaps that they might kill mee twise O Griefe and could one Day Haue Force such Excellence to take away Could a swift flying Moment ah deface Those matchlesse Gifts that Grace Which Art and Nature had in thee combinde To make thy Body paragone thy Minde Haue all past like a Cloud And doth eternall Silence now them shroud Is what so much admir'd was nought but Dust Of which a Stone hath trust O Change ô cruell Change thou to our Sight Shewes Destines Rigour equall doth their Might VVhen thou from Earth didst passe Sweet Nymph Perfections Mirrour broken was And this of late so glorious World of ours Like Meadow without Flowrs Or Ring of a rich Gemme made blind appear'd Or Night by Starre nor Cynthia neither clear'd Loue when hee saw thee die Entomb'd him in the Lidde of either Eye And left his Torch within thy sacred Vrne There for a Lampe to burne VVorth Honour Pleasure with thy Life expir'd Death since growne sweet beginnes to bee desir'd Whilst thou to vs wast giuen The Earth her Venus had as well as Heauen Nay and her Sunne which burnt as many Hearts As hee doth Easterne Parts Bright Sunne which forc'd to leaue these Hemispheares Benighted set into a Sea of Teares Ah Death who shall thee flie Sith the most worthie bee o'rethrowne by thee Thou spar'st the Rauens and Nightingalles dost kill And triumphes at thy will But giue thou canst not such an other Blow Because like Her Earth can none other show O bitter-Sweets of Loue How better is 't at all you not to proue Than when wee doe your Pleasure most possesse To find them then made lesse O! that the Cause which doth consume our Ioy Remembrance of it too would too destroy What doth this Life bestow But Flowrs on Thâ—…rnes which grow VVhich though they sometime blandishing delighte Yet afterwards vs smite And if the rising Sunne them faire doth see That Planet setting too beholdes them die This World is made a Hell Depriu'd of all that in it did excell O Pan Pan Winter is fallen in our May Turn'd is in Night our Day Forsake thy Pipe a Scepter take to thee Thy Lockes disgarland thou blacke Ioue shalt bee The Flockes doe leaue the Meads And loathing three-leaf'd Grasse hold vp their Heads The Streames not glide now with a gentle Rore Nor Birds sing as before Hilles stand with Clouds like Mourners vail'd in Blacke And Owles on Caban Roofes fore-tell oâ—…r Wracke That Zephyre euerie Yeere So soone was heard to sigh in Forrests heere It was for Her that wrapt in Gownes of Greene Meads were so earelie seene That in the saddest Months oft sâ—…ng the Mearles It was for Her for hâ—…r Trees dropt foorth Pearles That prowde and statelie Courts Did enuie those our Shades and calme Resorts It was for Her and shee is gone ô Woe Woods cut againe doe grow Budde doth the Rose and Dazie Winter done But wee once dead no more doe see the Sunne VVhose Name shall now make ring The Ecchoes of whom shall the Nymphettes sing VVhose heauenlie Voyce whose Soule-inuading Straines Shall fill with Ioy the Plaines VVhat Haire what Eyes can make the Morne in East VVeepe that a fairer riseth in the West Faire Sunne poste still away No Musicke heere is found thy Course to stay Sweet Hybla Swarmes with Wormewood fill your Bowrs Gone is the Flowre of Flowrs Blush no more Rose nor Lillie pale remaine Dead is that Beautie which yours late did staine Aye mee to waile my Plight VVhy haue not I as many Eyes as Night Or as that Shepheard which Ioues Loue did keepe That I still still may weepe But though I had my Teares vnto my Crosse VVere not yet equall nor Griefe to my Losse Yet of you brinie Showrs VVhich I heere powre may spring as many Flowrs As came of those which fell from Helens Eyes And when yee doe arise May euerie Leafe in sable Letters beare The dolefull Cause for which yee spring vp heere MAD. DEare Night the Ease of Care Vntroubled Seate of Peace Times eldest Childe which oft the Blinde doe see On this our Hemispheare What makes thee now so sadly darke to bee Comm'st thou in funerall Pompe her Graue to grace Or doe those Starres which should thy Horrour cleare In Ioues high Hall aduise In what Part of the Skies VVith them or Cynthia shee shall appeare Or ah alas because those matchlesse Eyes VVhich shone so faire below thou dost not finde Striu'st thou to make all other Eyes looke blinde SON MY Lute bee as thou wast when thou didst grow With thy greene Mother in some shadie Groue When immelodious Windes but made thee moue And Birds on thee their Ramage did bestow Sith that deare Voyce which did thy Sounds approue Which vs'd in such harmonious Straines to flow Is reft from Earth to tune those Spheares aboue What art thou but a Harbenger of Woe Thy pleasing Notes be pleasing Notes no more But orphane Wailings to the fainting Eare Eâ—…ch Stoppe a Sigh each Sound drawes foorth a Teare Bee therefore silent as in Woods before
that they of the Honey doe receaâ—…e Deare Kisse else by what Arte Couldst thou at once both please and wound my Heart IDMON to VENVS IF Acidalias Queene Thou quench in mee thy Torch And with the same Thaumantias Heart shalt scorch Each Yeere a Mirtle Tree Heere I doe vow to consecrâ—…te to thee And when the Meads grow greene I will of sweetest Flowrs Weaue thousand Garlands to adorne thy Bowrs A Louers Plaint IN midst of silent Night VVhen Men Birds Beasts doe rest VVith Loue and Feare possest To Heauen and Flore I count my heauie Plight Againe with roseate Wings When Morne peepes forth and Philomela sings Then Voyde of all Reliefe Doe I renew my Griefe Day followes Night Night Day whilst still I proue That Heauen is deafe Flore carelesse of my Loue. His Firebrand LEaue Page that slender Torch And in this gloomie Night Let only shine the Light Of Loues hote Brandon which my Heart doth scorch A Sigh or Blast of Wind My Teares or Droppes of Raine May that at once make blinde VVhilst this like Aetna burning shall remaine DAPHNIS VOW WHen Sunne doth bring the Day From the Hesperian Sea Or Moone her Coach doth rolle Aboue the Northerne Pole VVhen Serpents can not hisse And Louers shall not kisse Then may it be but in no time till then That Daphnis can forget his Orienne Of NISA NIsa Palemons Wife him weeping told Hee kept not Grammer Rules now beeing old For why quoth shee Position false make yee Putting a short thing where a long should bee Beauties Idea WHo would Perfections faire Idea see Let him come looke on Chloris sweet with mee White is her Haire her Teeth white white her Skinne Blacke bee her Eyes her Eye-browes Cupids Inne Her Lockes her Body Hands doe long appeare But Teeth short Bellie short short either Eare The Space twixt Shoulders Eyes is wide Browes wide Straite Waste the Mouth straite and her virgine Pride Thicke are her Lips Thighs with Banckes swelling there Her Nose is small small Fingers and her Haire Her sugred Mouth her Cheekes her Nailes bee red Litle her Foot Pap litle and her Hed. Such Venus was such was the Flame of Troy Such Chloris is my Hope and only Ioy. CRATONS Death AMidst the Waues profound Farre farre from all Reliefe The honest Fisher Craton ah is drownd Into his litle Skife The Boords of which did serue him for a Beare So that to the blacke World when hee came neare Of him no Waftage greedie Charon got For hee in his owne Boat Did passe that Floud by which the Gods dow sweare ARMELINS Epitaph NEare to this Eglantine Enclosed lies the milke-white Armeline Once Chloris onlie Ioye Now onlie her annoy Who enuied was of the most happie Swaines That keepe their Flocks in Mountaines Dales or Plaines For oft shee bare the wanton in her Arme And oft her Bed and Bosome did he warme Now when vnkindlie Fates did him destroy Blest Dog he had the Grace With Teares for him that Chloris wet her Face The Statue of VENVS sleeping BReake not my sweet Repose Thou whom free Will or Chance brings to this Place Let Lids these Comets close O doe not seeke to see their shining Grace For when mine Eyes thou seest they thine will blinde And thou shalt parte but leaue thy Heart behinde LILLAS Prayer LOue if thou wilt once more That I to thee returne Sweete God make me not burne For quiuering Age that doth spent Dayes deplore Nor doe not wound my Hart For some vnconstant Boy Who ioyes to loue yet makes of Loue a Toy But ah if I must prooue thy golden Dart Of grace O let mee finde A sweet young Louer with an aged Mind Thus Lilla pray'd and Idas did replie Who heard Deare haue thy wish for such am I. The vnkindnesse of RORA. WHilst sighing forth his Wrongs In sweet though dolefull Songs Alexis seekes to charme his Roras Eares The Hills are heard to mone To sigh each Spring appeares Trees euen heard Trees through Rine distill their Teares And soft growes euery Stone But Teares Sighes Songs can not faire Rora moue Prowde of his Plaints shee glories in his Loue. ANTHEA Gift THis virgine Locke of Haire To Idmon Anthea giues Idmon for whom shee liues Though oft shee mixe his Hopes with cold Despaire This now but absent if hee constant proue VVith Gift more deare shee vowes to meet his Loue. TO THAVMANTIA Come let vs liue and loue And kisse Thaumantia mine I shall the Elme bee bee to mee the Vine Come let vs teach new Billing to the Doue Nay to augment our Blisse Let Soules euen other kisse Let Loue a Worke-man bee Vndoe distemper and his Cunning proue Of Kisses three make one of one make three Though Moone Sunne Starres bee Bodies farre more bright Let them not vaunt they match vs in Delight Epitaph THis deare though not respected Earth doth hold One for his Worth whose Tombe should bee of Gold Of LIDA SVch Lida is that who Her sees Through Enuie or through Loue straight dies A Wish To forge to mightie Ioue The Thunder-bolts aboue Nor on this Round below Rich Midas Skill to know And make all Gold I touch I doe not craue nor other Cunning such For all those Artes bee vnderneath the Skie I wish but Phillis Lapidare to bee A Louers Day and Night BRight Meteore of Day For mee in Thetis Bowres for euer staye Night to this flowrie Globe Ne're show for mee thy starre-embrodred Robe My Night my Day doe not proceede from you But hang on Miras Browe For when shee Iowres and hides from mee her Eyes Midst clearest Day I finde blacke Night arise When smyling shee againe those Twinnes doth turne In midst of Night I finde Noones Torch to burne The Statue of ADONIS WHen Venus longst that Plaine This Parian Adon saw Shee sigh'd and said What Power breakes Destines Law World mourned Boy and makes thee liue againe Then with stretcht Armes shee ran him to enfold But when shee did behold The Bore whose snowie Tuskes did threaten Death Feare closed vp her Breath Who can but grant then that these Stones doe liue Sith this bred Loue and that a Wound did giue CLORVS to a Groue OLd Oake and you thicke Groue I euer shall you loue With these sweet-smelling Briers For Briers Oake Groue yeâ—… crowned my Desires When vnderneath your Shade I left my Woe and Flore her Maidenhead A Couplet encomiasticke LOue 1 Cypris 2 Phoebus 3 will feede 1 decke 2 and crowne 3 Thy Heart 1 Browes 2 Verse 3 with Flames 1 with Flowrs 2 Renowne3. An other THy Muse not-able full il-lustred Rimes Make thee the Poetâ—… Aster of our Times The Rose FLowre which of ADONS Blood Sprang when of that cleare Flood Which Venus wept an other white was borne The sweet Cynarean Youth thou right dost show But this sharpe-pointed Thorne Which doth so prowde about thy Crimsin grow What doth it represent Boares Tuskes perhaps his snowie Flancke which rent O