lye and thus what e're Is absent and at Rome I fancy here But when then câ—m'st I blot the Anie Scrowle And give thee full possession of my soule Thee absent I embrace thee only voice And night and day holy a Husbands Joyes Nay of thy name so oft I mention make That I am thought distracted for thy sake When my tir'd Spirits faile and my sick heart Drawes in that fire which actuates each part If any say th' art come I force my pain And hope to see thee gives me life again Thus I for thee whilst thou perhaps more blest Careless of me doest breath all peace and rest Which yet I think not for Deare Soule too well Know I thy griefe since my first woes befell But if strict heav'n my stock of dayes hath spun And with my life my errour wil be gone How easie then O Caesar wer 't for thee To pardon one that now doth cease to be That I might yeeld my native aire this breath And banish not my ashes after death Would thou hadst either spar'd me untill dead Or with my bloud redeem'd my absent head Thou shouldst have had both freely but O! thou Wouldst have me live to dye an Exile now And must I then from Rome so far meet death And double by the place my losse of breath Nor in my last of houres on my own bed In the sad Conflict rest my dying head Nor my soules Whispers the last pledge of life Mix with the tears and kisses of a wife My last words none must treasure none will rise And with a teare seal up my vanquish'd Eyes Without these Rites I dye distrest in all The splendid sorrowes of a Funerall Unpittied and unmourn'd for my sad head In a strange Land goes friendless to the dead When thou hear'st this O how thy faithfull soule Will sink whilst griefe doth ev'ry part controule How often wilt thou look this way and Crie O where is 't yonder that my love doth lye Yet spare these tears and mourn not now for me Long since dear heart have I been dead to thee Thank then I dyed when Thee and Rome I lost That death to me more griefe then this hath Cost Now if thou canst but thou canst not best wise Rejoyce my Cares are ended with my life At least yeeld not to sorrowes frequent use Should make these miseries to thee no newes And here I wish my Soul died with my breath And that no part of me were free from death For if it be Immortall and outlives The body as Phythagoras believes Betwixt these Sarmates ghosts a Roman I Shall wander vext to all Eternitie But thou for after death I shall be free Fetch home these bones and what is left of me A few Flowres give them with some Balme and lay Them in some Suburb grave hard by the way And to Informe posterity who 's there This sad Inscription let my marble weare Here lyes the loft-soul'd Lecturer of Love Whose envy'd wit did his own ruine prove But thou who e'r thou beest that passing by Lendst to this sudden stone a bastie Eye If e'r thou knew'st of Love the sweet disease Grudge not to say May Ovid rest in peace This for my tombe but in my books they 'l see More strong and lasting Monuments of mee Which I believe though fatall will afford An Endless name unto their ruin'd Lord And now thus gone It rests for love of me Thou shewst some sorrow to my memory Thy Funerall offrings to my ashes beare With Wreathes of Cypresse bath'd in many a teare Though nothing there but dust of me remain Yet shall that Dust perceive thy pious pain But I have done and my tyr'd sickly head Though I would fain write more desires the bed Take then this word perhaps my last to tell Which though I want I wish it thee Fare-well Ausonii Cupido Edyl. 6. IN those blest fields of Everlasting aire Where to a Myrtle-grove the soules repaire Of deceas'd Lovers the sad thoughtfull ghosts Of Injur'd Ladyes meet where each accosts The other with a sigh whose very breath Would break a heart and kind Soules love in death A thick wood clouds their walks where day scarce peeps And on each hand Cypresse and Poppey sleepes The drowsie Rivers slumber and Springs there Blab not but softly melt into a teare A sickly dull aire fans them which can have When most in force scarce breath to build a wave On either bank through the still shades appear A Scene of pensive flowres whose bosomes wear Drops of a Lever's bloud the Emblem'd truths Of deep despair and Love-slain Kings and Youths The Hyacinth and self-enamour'd Boy Narcissus flourish there with Venus Joy The spruce Adonis and that Prince whose flowre Hath sorrow languag'd on him to this houre All sad with love they hang their heads and grieve As if their passions in each lease did live And here alas these soft-soul'd Ladies stray And oh too late treason in love betray Her blasted birth sad Semile repeats And with her tears would quench the thund'rers heats Then shakes her bosome as if fir'd again And fears another lightnings flaming train The lovely Pocris here bleeds sighes and swounds Then wakes and kisses him that gave her wounds Sad Hero holds a torch forth and doth light Her lost Leander through the waves and night Her Boateman desp'rate Sapho still admires And nothing but the Sea can quench her fires Distracted Phoedïa with a restless Eye Her disdain'd Letters reads then casts them by Rare faithfull Thysbe sequestred from these A silent unseen sorrow doth best please For her Loves sake and last good-night poor she Walks in the shadow of a Mulberrie Neer her young Canace with Dido sits A lovely Couple but of desp'rate wits Both dy'd alike both pierc'd their tender brests This with her Fathers Sword that with their Guests Within the thickest textures of the Grove Diana in her Silver-beams doth rove Her Crown of stars the piâ—chiâ— aire Invades And with a faint light gilds the silent shades Whilst her sad thoughts fixt on her sleepie I ever To Latmos-hill and his retirements move her A thousand more through the wide darksome wood Feast on their cares the Maudlin-Lovers food For griefe and absence doe but Edge desire And Death is fuell to a Lovers fire To see these Trophies of his wanton bow Cupid comes in and all in triumph now Rash unadvised Boy disperseth round The sleepie Mists his Wings and quiver wound With noise the quiet aire This sudden stirre Betrayes his godship and as we from far A clouded sickly Moon observe so they Through the false Mists his Ecclyps'd torch betray A hot pursute thy make and though with care And a slow wing he softly stems the aire Yet they as subtill now as he surround His silenc'd course and with the thick night bound Surprize the Wag. As in a dream we strive To voyce our thoughts vainly would revive Our Entraunc'd tongues but can not speech
speaks thee not since at the utmost rate Such remnants from thy piece Intreat their date Nor can I dub the Coppy or afford Titles to swell the reare of Verse with Lord Nor politickly big to Inch low fame Stretch in the glories of a strangers name And Clip those Bayes I Court weak striver I But a faint Echo unto Poetrie I have not Clothes t' adopt me not must sit For Plush and Velvets sake Esquire of wit Yet Modestie these Crosses would improve And Rags neer thee some Reverencemay move I did believe great Beaumont being dead Thy Widow'd Muse slept on his flowrie bed But I am richly Cosen'd and can see Wit transmigrates his Spirit stayd with thee Which doubly advantag'd by thy single pen In life and death now treads the Stage agen And thus are wee freed from that dearth of wit Which starv'd the Land since into Schismes split Wherein th' hast done so much wee must needs guesse Wits last Edition is now i' th Presse For thou hast drain'd Invention and he That writes hereafter doth but pillage thee But thou hast plotts and will not the Kirk strain At the Designe of such a Tragick brain Will they themselves think safe when they shall see Thy most abominable policie Will not the Eares assemble and think 't fit Their Synod fast and pray against thy wit But they 'le not lyre in such an idle Quest Thou doest but kill and Circumvent in Iest And when thy anger'd Muse swells to a blow 'T is but for Field's or Swansteed's overthrow Yet shall these Conquests of thy Bayes outlive Their Scotish zeale and Compacts made to grieve The Peace of Spirits and when such deeds fayle Of their foule Ends a faire name is thy Bayle But happy thou ne'r saw'st these stormes our aire Teem'd with even in thy time though seeming faire Thy gentle Soule meant for the shade and ease Withdrew betimes into the Land of Peace So neasted in some Hospitable shore The Hermit-angler when the mid-Seas roare Packs up his lines and ere the tempest raves Retyres and leaves his station to the waves Thus thou diedst almost with our peace and wee This breathing time thy last fair Issue see Which I think such if needless Ink not soyle So Choice a Muse others are but thy foile This or that age may write but never see A Wit that dares run Paralell with thee True BEN must live but bate him and thou hast Undone all future wits and match'd the past Upon the Poems and Playes of the ever memorable Mr. William Cartwright I Did but see thee and how vain it is To vex thee for it with Remonstrances Though things in fashion let those Iudge who sit Their twelve pence out to clap their hands at wit I fear to Sinne thus neer thee for great Saint 'T is known true beauty hath no need of paint Yet since a Labell fixt to thy fair Hearse Is all the Mode and tears put into Verse Can teach Posterity our present griefe And their own losse but never give reliefe I 'le tell them and a truth which needs no passe That wit in Cartwright at her Zenith was Arts Fancy Language all Conven'd in thee With those grand Miracles which deifie The old worlds Writings kept yet from the fire Because they force these worst times to admire Thy matchless Genius in all thou didst write Like the Sun wrought with such stayd beat and light That not a line to the most Critick he Offends with flashes or obscuritie When thou the wild of humours trackst thy pen So Imitates that Motley slock in men As if thou hadst in all their bosomes been And seen those Leopards that lurk within The am'rous Youth steals from thy Courtly page His vow'd Addresse the Souldier his brave rage And those soft beauteous Readers whose looks can Make some men Poets and make any ' man A Lover when thy Slave but seems to dye Turn all his Mourners and melt at the Eye Thus thou thy thoughts hast drest in such a strain As doth not only speak but rule and raign Nor are those bodyes they assum'd dark Clouds Or a thick bark but clear transparent shrouds Which who lookes on the Rayes so strongly beat They 'l brushe and warm him with a quickning heat So Souls shine at the Eyes and Pearls display Through the loose-Chrystal-streams a glaunce of day But what 's all this unto a Royall Test Thou art the Man whom great Charles so exprest Then let the Crowd refrain their needless humme When Thunder speaks then Squibs and Winds are dumb To the best and most accomplish'd Couple BLessings as rich and fragrant crown your heads As the mild heav'n on Roses sheds When at their Cheeks like Pearls they weare The Clouds that court them in a teare And may they be fed from above By him which first ordain'd your love Fresh as the houres may all your pleasures be And healthfull as Eternitie Sweet as the flowres first breath and Close As th' unseen spreadings of the Rose When he unfolds his Curtain'd head And makes his bosome the Suns bed Soft as your selves run your whole lifes and cleare As your own glasse or what shines there Smooth as heav'ns face and bright as he When without Mask or Tiffanie In all your time not one Iarre meet But peace as silent as his feet Like the dayes Warmth may all your Comforts be Untoil'd for and Serene as he Yet free and full as is that sheafe Of Sun-beams gilding ev'ry leafe When now the tyrant-heat expires And his Cool'd locks breath milder fires And as those parcell'd glories he doth shed Are the faire Issues of his head Which ne'r so distant are soon known By th' heat and lustre for his own So may each branch of yours wee see Your Coppyes and our Wonders be And when no more on Earth you must remain Invited hence to heav'n again Then may your vertuous virgin-flames Shine in those Heires of your fair names And teach the world that mysterie Your selves in your Posteritie So you to both worlds shall rich presents bring And gather'd up to heav'n leave here a Spring An Elegie on the death of Mr. R. Hall slain at Pontefract 1684. I Knew it would be thus and my Just fears Of thy great spirit are Improv'd to tears Yet slow these not from any base distrust Of a fair name or that thy honour must Confin'd to those cold reliques sadly sit In the same Cell an obscure Anchorite Such low distempers Murther they that must Abuse thee so weep not but wound thy dust But I past such dimme Mourners can descrie Thy same above all Clouds of obloquie And like the Sun with his victorious rayes Charge through that darkness to the last of dayes 'T is true fair Manhood hath a female Eye And tears are beauteous in a Victorie Not are wee so high-proofe but griefe will find Through all our guards a way to wound the mind But in thy fall what addes the brackish summe More
enlarge 'Till the Soule wakes and reassumes her Charge So joyous of their Prize they flock about And vainly Swell with an Imagin'd shout Far in these shades and melancholy Coasts A Myrtle growes well known to all the ghosts Whose stretch'd top like a great man rais'd by Fate Looks big and scorns his neighbours low estate His leavy arms into a green Cloud twist And on each Branch doth sit a lazie mist A fatall tree and luckless to the god Where for disdain in life loves worst of Ods The Queen of shades fair Proserpine did rack The sad Adonis hithet now they pack This little God where first disarm'd they bind His skittish wings then both his hands behind His back they tye and thus secur'd at last The peevish wanton to the tree make fast Here at adventure without Iudge of Jurie He is condemn'd while with united furie They all assaile him As a thiefe at Bar Lest to the Law and mercy of his Star Hath Bills heap'd on him and is question'd there By all the men that have been rob'd that year So now what ever Fate or their own will Scor'd up in life Cupid must pay the bill Their Servants falshood Jealousie disdain And all the plagues that abus'd Maids can feign Are layd on him and then to heighten spleen Their own deaths crown the summe Prest thus between His faire accusers 't is at last decreed He by those weapons that they died should bleed One grasps an airie Sword a second holds Illusive fire and in vain wanton folds Belyes a flame Others lesse kind appear To let him bloud and from the purple tear Create a Rose But Sapho all this while Harvests the aire and from a thicken'd pile Of Clouds like Leucas top spreads underneath A Sea of Mists the peacefull billowes breath Without all noise yet so exactly move They seem to Chide but distant from above Reach not the eare and thus prepar'd at once She doth o'rwhelm him with the airie Sconce Amidst these tumults and as fierce as they Venus steps in and without thought or stay Invades her Son her old disgrace is cost Into the Bill when Mars and Shee made fast In their Embraces were expos'd to all The Scene of gods stark naked in their fall Nor serves a verball penance but with hast From her fair brow O happy flowres so plac'd She tears a Rosie garland and with this Whips the untoward Boy they gently kisse His snowie skin but she with angry hast Doubles her strength untill bedew'd at last With a thin bloudie sweat their Innate Red As if griev'd with the Act grew pale and dead This layd their spleen And now kind soules no more They 'l punish him the torture that he bore Seems greater then his crime with joynt Consent Fate is made guilty and he Innocent As in a dream with dangers we contest And fictious pains seem to afflict our rest So frighted only in these shades of night Cupid got loose stole to the upper light Where ever since for malice unto these The spitefull Ape doth either Sex displease But O that had these Ladyes been so wise To keep his Arms and give him but his Eyes Boet. Lib. 1. Metrum 1. I Whose first year flourish'd with youthfull verse In slow sad numbers now my griefe reherse A broken stile my sickly lines afford And only tears give weight unto my words Yet neither fate nor force my Muse cou'd fright The only faithfull Consort of my flight Thus what was once my green years greatest glorie Is now my Comfort grown decay'd and hoarie For killing Cares th' Effects of age spurr'd on That griefe might find a fitting Mansion O'r my young head runs an untimely gray And my loose skin shrinks at my blouds decay Happy the man whose death in prosp'rous years Strikes not nor shuns him in his age and tears But O how deale is she to hear the Crie Of th' opprest Sâ—ule or shut the weeping Eye While treacherous Fortune with slight honours fed My first estate she almost drown'd my head But now since clouded thus she hides those rayes Life adds unwelcom'd length unto my dayes Why then my friends Judg'd you my state so good He that may fall once never firmly stood Metrum 2. O In what haste with Clouds and Night Ecclyps'd and having lost her light The dull Soule whom distraction rends Into outward Darkness tends How often by these mists made blind Have earthly cares opprest the mind This Soule sometimes wont to survey The spangled Zodiacks sine way Saw th' early Sun in Roses drest With the Coole Moons unstable Crest And whatsoever wanton Star In various Courses neer or far Pierc'd through the orbs he cou'd full well Track all her Journey and would tell Her Mansions turnings Rise and fall By Curious Calculation all Of sudden winds the hidden Cause And why the Calm Seas quiet face With Impetuous waves is Curld What spirit wheeles th' harmonious world Or why a Star dropt in the West Is seen to rise again by East Who gives the warm Spring temp'rate houres Decking the Earth with spicie flowres Or how it Comes for mans recruit That Autumne yeelds both Grape and fruit With many other Secrets he Could shew the Cause and Mysterie But now that light is almost out And the brave Soule lyes Chain'd about With outward Cares whose pensive weight Sinks down her Eyes from their first height And clean Contrary to her birth Poares on this vile and foolish Earth Metrum 4. WHose calme soule in a settled state Kicks under foot the frowns of Fate And in his fortunes bad or good Keeps the same temper in his bloud Not him the flaming Clouds above Nor Alita's fierie tempests move No fretting seas from shore to shore Boyling with Indignation o're Nor burning thunderbolt that can A mountain shake can stâ—rre this man Dull Cowards then why should we start To see â—hese tyrants act their part Nor hope no fear what may befall And you dâ—sarm their malice all But whâ— doth faintly feaâ— or wish And sets no law to what is â—â—s Hath lost the buckâ—er and poor Elfe Makes up a Chain to bind himselfe Metrum 5. O Thou great builder of this starrie frame Who fixt in thy eternall throne dost tame The rapid Spheres and lest they jarre Hast giv'n a law to ev'ry starre Thou art the Cause that new the Moon With full or be dulls the starres and soon Again growes dark her light being done The neerer still she 's to the Sun Thou in the early hours of night Mak'st the coole Evening-star shine bright And at Sun-rising 'cause the least Look pale and sleepie in the East Thou when the leafes in Winter stray Appointst the Sun a shorter way And in the pleasant Summer-light With nimble hourses doest wing the night Thy hand the various year quite through Discreetly tempers that what now The North-wind tears from ev'ry tree In Spring again restor'd we see Then what the winter-starrs between The
Trumpets active rage No wounds by bitter hatred made With warm bloud soil'd the shining blade For how could hostile madness arm An age of love to publick harm When Common Justice none withstood Nor sought rewards for spilling bloud O that at length our age would raise Into the temper of those dayes But worst then AEtna's fires debate And Avarice inflame our state Alas who was it that first found Gold hid of purpose under ground That sought out Pearles and div'd to find Such pretious perils for mankind Metrum 6. HE that thirsts for glories prize Thinking that the top of all Let him view th' Expansed skies And the Earths Contracted ball 'T will shame him then the name he wan Fils not the short walk of one man 2. O why vainly strive you then To shake off the bands of Fate Though same through the world of men Should in all tongues your names relate And with proud titles swell that storie The Darke grave scorns your brightest glorie 3. There with Nobles beggers sway And Kings with Commons share one dust What newes of Brutus at this day Or Fabricius the Just Some rude Verse Cut in stone or led Keeps up the names but they are dead 4. So shall you one day past reprieve Lye perhaps without a name But if dead you think to live By this aire of humane fame Know when time stops that posthume breath You must endure a second death Metrum 7. THat the world in constant force Varies her Concordant course That seeds jarring hot and cold Doe the breed perpetuall hold That in his golden Coach the Sun Brings the Rofic day still on That the Moon swayes all those lights Which Helper ushers to dark nights That alternate tydes be sound The Seas ambitious waves to bound Lest o'r the wide Earth without End Their fluid Empire should extend All this frame of things that be Love which rules Heaven Land and Sea Chains keeps orders as we see This if the raines he once cast by All things that now by turns comply Would fall to discord and this frame Which now by sociall faith they tame And comely orders in that fight And jarre of thâ—ngs would perish quite This in a holy league of peace Keeps King and People with Increase And in the sacred nuptiall bands Tyes up chast hearts with willing hands And this keeps firm without all doubt Friends by his bright Instinct found out O happy Nation then were you If love which doth all things subdue That rules the spacious heav'n and brings Plenty and Peace upon his wings Might rule you too and without guile Settle once more this floting Ile Casimirus Lib. 4 Ode 28. ALlmighty Spirit thou that by Set turns and changes from thy high And glorious throne dost here below Rule all and all things dost foreknow Can those blind plots wee here discusse Please thee as thy wise Counsels us When thou thy blessings here dost strow And poure on Earth we flock and flow With Ioyous strife and eager care Strugling which shall have the best share In thy rich gifts just as we see Children about Nuts disagree Some that a Crown have got and foyl'd Break it Another sees it spoil'd E're it is gotten Thus the world Is all to peece-meals cut and hurl'd By factious hands It is a ball Which Fate and force divide 'twixt all The Sons of men But o good God! While these for dust fight and a Clod Grant that poore I may smile and be At rest and perfect peace with thee Casimirus Lib. 2. Ode 8. IT would lesse vex distressed man If Fortune in the same pace ran To ruine him as he did rise But highest states fall in a trice No great Successe held ever long A restless fate afflicts the throng Of Kings and Commons and lesse dayes Serve to destroy them then to raise Good luck smiles once an age but bad Makes Kingdomes in a minute sad And ev'ry houre of life wee drive Hâ—â—â— o're us a Prerogative Then leave by wild Impatience driv'n And rash resents to rayle at heav'n Leave an â—â—â—â—â—â—nly weak complaint That Deâ—â—â—â—â—â— and Fate have no restraint In the same houre hat gave thee breath Thou hadst ordain'd thy houre of death But he loves most who here will buy With a few tears Eternitie Casimirus Lib. 3. Ode 22. LEt not thy youth and false delights Cheat thee of life Those headely flights But wast thy time which posts away Like winds unseen and swift as they Beauty is but meer paint whose die With times breath will dissolve and flye 'T is wax 't is water 't is a glasse It melts breaks and away doth passe 'T is like a Rose which in the dawne The aire with gentle breath doth sawne And whisper too but in the houres Of night is sullied with smart showres Life spent is wish'd for but in vain Nor can past years come back again Happy the Man who in this vale Redeems his time shatting out all Thoughts of the world whose longing Eyes Are ever Pilgrims in the skyes That views his bright home and desires To slaine amongst those glorious fores Casimirus Lyric Lib. 3 Ode 23. 'T Is not rich furniture and gems With Cedar-roofes and ancient stems Nor yet a plenteous lasting floud Of gold that makes man truly good Leave to Inquire in what faire fields A River runs which much gold yeelds Vertue alone is the rich prize Can purchase stars and buy the skies Let others build with Adamant Or pillars of carv'd Marble plant Which rude and rough sometimes did dwell Far under earth and neer to hell But richer much from death releast Shines in the fresh groves of the East The Phoenix or those fish that dwell With silver'd scales in Hiddekel Let others with rare various Pearls Their garments dresse and in forc'd Curls Bind up their locks look big and high And shine in robes of Scarlet-die But in my thoughts more glorious far Those native stars and speckles are Which birds wear or the spots which wee In Leopards dispersed see The harmless sheep with her warm sheet Cloathes man but who his dark heart sees Shall find a wolfe or Fox within That kills the Castor for his skin Vertue alone and nought else can A diffrence make 'twixt beast and man And on her wines above the Spheres To the true light his spirit bears Casimirus Lib. 4. Ode 15. NOthing on Earth nothing at all Can be exempted from the thrall Of peevish weariness The Sun Which our sore-fathers Judg'd to run Clear and unspotted in our dayes Is tax'd with sullen Ecclips'd rayes What ever in the glorious skie Man sees his rash andacious Eye Dares Censure it and in meer spite At distance will condemn the light The wholesome mornings whose beams cleer Those hills our fathers walkt on here Wee fancy not nor the Moons light Which through their windows shin'd at night VVee change the Aire each year and scorn Those Seates in which we first were borne Some nice affected wond'rers