cruel Beauty's Love To him and to his Truth ingrate Idolater does he not prove That from his pow'rless Idol never Receives a Med'cine for his Fever IV. They say the unweary'd Lovers pains By instance meet with good success For he by force his end obtains 'T is an odd method of Address To what Design so e're 't relate Still still to be importunate V. Do but observe the hourly Fears Of your pretended faithful Lover Nothing but Sorrow Sighs and Tears You in his chearfull'st Looks discover As though the Lovers Sophistry Were nothing but to whine and cry VI. â—â—â—ght he by a Man's Name be styl'd â—hat losing th' Honor of a Man â—hines for his Pepin like a Child â—hipt and sent back to School again Or rather Fool that thinks amiss He loves but knows not what Love is VII 〈◊〉 my part I 'll decline this Folly 〈◊〉 others harms thank Fate grown wise â—â—ch Dotage begets Melancholly â— must profess Loves Liberties And never angry am at all At them who me inconstamt call SONNET Out of Astrea SInce I must now eradicate the Flame Which seeing you Love in my Bosom plac't And the Desires which thus long could last Kindled so well and nourisht in the same Since Time that first saw their Original Must triumph in their end and Victor be Let 's have a brave Design and to be free Cut off at once the Briar-rose and all â—et us put out the Fire Love has begot â—â—eak the tough Cord tied with so fast a knot And voluntary take a brave adieu â—o shall we nobly conquer Love and Fate â—nd at the Liberty of choice do that Which time its self at last would make us do A PARAPHRASE THE Beauty that must me delight Must have Skin and Teeth Snow white Black arched Brows black sprightly Eyes And a black Beauty 'twixt her Th ghs Soâ—t blushing Cheeks a Person tall Long Hair long Hands and Fingers small Short Teeth and Feet that little are Dilated Brows and Haunches fair Fine silken Hair Lips full and red Small Nose with little Breast and Head All these in one and that one kind Would make a Mistriss to my Mind An Essay upon Buchanan's First Book de Sphaera Never perfected HOW various are the World 's great parts I sing And by what League the jarring Seeds of things Agree in one the Causes Motion breed Why Darkness Light and Coldness Heat succeed And why the Suns and the Moons horned Light Suffer Eclipses of o're-shading Night Thou who the Temples wall'd with sacred Light. Impenetrable to our weaker sight Inhabit'st holy Father of the Skies Propitious be to this bold Enterprize Whilst to the World we do Thy Acts reveal And the immense Work of the Pole unseal That people ignorant of Truth a Mind From Sloth and long-liv'd Error so refin'd May lift to Heav'n and whilst amaz'd the Ball They so embraced with a Flaming Wall And wheeling times return in certain course May own the Mover and admire his Force â—hat props so great a Pile that with the bit Of his Eternal Law doth govern it And in His secret Council has decreed 〈◊〉 fit for Man's innumerable Need. And thou young Mercury Tymolion Thy Father's and thy Country's hopeful Son Go my Companion in thy tender Years Câ—â—â—alion Woods and sacred Founts draw near â—requent that unknown Peace and Nymphs soft Choires Subject to loss nor avaritious Fires The time will come when time has giv'n Thee Force That thou shalt bravely with thy foaming Horse Rush into War and gloriously advance In dusty Fields thy Country's threatning Launce Till then thy Syre either shall Lombards deign T' orecome wild Germans and the Warlike Spain By Force or Conduct Or with Gallick spoil Dazling the Sun deck Calidonia's Soyl. Caetera desunt Cn. Cornelii Galli vel potius Maximiani Elegia 1. Trans WHY envious Age dost thou my End delay Why in this wearied Trunk delight to stay My captive Life from such a Prison free Death now is Rest when Life is Misery I 'm no more what I was but sunk and old And what remains is languishing and cold The day that young Men chears offends mine Eye And which is worse than Death I wish to die I was my Youth whilst Wit and Beautâ— crown'd An Orator throughout the World renown'd The Poets charming lies full oft I feign'd And by fictitious Tales true Titles gain'd In all Disputes of Wit the Wreath bore I And have my Eloquence reputed high High and immortal Oh! what then remains Worthy an old Man's Living or his Pains Nor less than these the Beauty of my Face Which though the rest are wanting wins much Grace Manhood to that which richer far than Gold Makes Wit a greater price and Lustre hold If I with Dogs the Thickets would surround The conquer'd Prey fell at my Launces Wound Or would I loose Shafts from the bending Yew With great applause untamed Beasts I slew Or with the sinewy Wrestlers if I try'd With my strong Nerves their oyly Limbs I ty'd â—ow at the Race I all that came out-run And now in Tragick Song the Buskin won This mixture of good things my worth increast â—â—ill various Works of Art advance us best For whatsoever things simply delight Joyn'd to another Grace shine out more bright With such a Mine of Fortitude adorn'd All threatning Dangers I contemn'd and scorn'd Bare-head I made the Winds and Storms retreat Feeling no Winters Cold nor Summer's Heat I swam the yellow Tyber's gelid Stream And fearless would the doubtful Current sâ—em With the least Sleep I could forsake my Bed And with the slend'rest fare be amply fed Or if a drunken Guest surpriz'd my Walls To waste the forlorn day in Bacchanals Lyaeus self struck Sail amaz'd and dumb And he that always conquer'd fel o'recome Nor is' t an easy thing the Mind to bend At once with two Opposers to contend And in this kind of strife they say of Yore Great Socrates the Victor's Trophy bore And thus they say the rigid Cato won Things are not ill themselves unless ill done To all things dreadless I oppos'd my Face And to my constant Mind Mischance gave place With little pleas'd I still lov'd to be poor And being Lord of all could wish no more Thou only wretched Age dost me subdue To whom who conquers all things else must bow 'T is into thee we fall and what at last Decays and withers thou alone dost wast Hetruria ravisht with these parts of mine Wish'd that I would with her fair Daughters twine But Liberty to me was far more sweet Than all the Pleasures of the Nuptial Sheet In my gay Youth I walk'd about proud Rome To view what Virgins there might overcome Which might be won or which was fit to seek When at their sight soft blushes stain'd my Cheek Now runs a smiling Girl her self to hide And yet not so as not to be descry'd But by some single part to be reveal'd Gladder by much to be so ill conceal'd
she ickle Be she pious or ungodly Be she chaste or what sounds odly Lastly be she good or evil Be she Saint or be she Devil Yet uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife If fair she 's subject to temptation If foul her self 's solicitation If young and sweet she is too tender If old and cross no man can mend her If too too kind she 's over clinging If a true scold she 's ever ringing If blith find Fiddles or y'undoe her If sad then call a Casuist to her If a Wit she 'll still be jeering If a Fool she 's ever fleering If too wary then she 'll shrue thee If too lavish she 'll undoe thee If staid she 'll mope a year together If gadding then to London with her If true she 'll think you don 't deserve her If false a thousand will not serve her If lustfull send her to a Spittle If cold she is for one too little If she be of th' Reformation Thy House will be a Convocation If a Libertine then watch it At the window thou maist catch it If chaste her pride will still importune If a Whore thou know'st thy Fortune So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife These are all extremes I know But all Womankind is so And the Golden Mean to none Of that cloven Race is known Or to one if known it be Yet that one 's unknown to me Some Vlissean Traveller May perhaps have gone so sar As t' have found in spight of Nature Such an admirable Creature If a Voyager there be Has made that discovery He the fam'd Odcombian gravels And may rest to write his Travels But alas there 's no such woman The Calamity is common The first rib did bring in ruine And the rest have since been doing Some by one way some another Woman still is mischief's mother And yet cannot Man forbear Though it cost him ne'er so dear Yet with me 't is out of season To complain thus without reason Since the best and sweetest fair Is allotted to my share But alas I love her so That my love creates my woe For if she be out of humour Streight displeas'd I do presume her And would give the World to know What it is offends her so Or if she be discontented Lord how am I then tormented And am ready to persuade her That I have unhappy made her But if sick I then am dying Meat and Med'cine both defying So uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife What are then the Marr'age Joys That make such a mighty noise All 's enclos'd in one short Sentence Little Pleasure great Repentance Yet it is so sweet a Pleasure To repent we scarce have leisure Till the pleasure wholly fails Save sometimes by Intervals But those intervals again Are so full of deadly pain That the pleasure we have got Is in Conscience too dear bought Pox on 't would Womankind be free What needed this Solemnity This foolish way of coupl'ing so That all the World forsooth must know And yet the naked truth to say They are so perfect grown that way That if 't only be for pleasure You would marry take good leisure Since none can ever want supplies For natural necessities Without exposing of his Life To the great trouble of a Wife Why then all the great pains taking Why the sighing why the waking Why the riding why the running Why the artifice and cunning Why the whining why the crying Why pretending to be dying Why all this clutter to get Wives To make us weary of our Lives If Fruition we profess To be the only happiness How much happier then is he Who with the industrious Bee Preys upon the several Sweets Of the various Flow'rs he meets Than he who with less delight Dulls on one his Appetite Oh 't is pleasant to be free The sweetest Miss is Liberty And though who with one sweet is bless'd May reap the sweets of all the rest In her alone who fair and true As Love is all for which we sue Whose several Graces may supply The place of full variety And whose true kindness or address Summs up the All of happiness Yet 't is better live alone Free to all than ti'd to one Since uneasie is his Life Who is marri'd to a Wife ODE To Love. I. GReat Love I thank thee now thou hast Paid me for all my suff'rings past And wounded me with Nature's Pride For whom more glory 't is to die Scorn'd and neglected than enjoy All Beauty in the world beside II. A Beauty above all pretence Whose very scorns are recompence The Regent of my heart is crown'd And now the sorrows and the woe My Youth and Folly help'd me to Are buried in this friendly wound III. Led by my Folly or my Fate I lov'd before I knew not what And threw my thoughts I knew not where With judgment now I lvoe and sue And never yet perfection knew Untill I cast mine eyes on her IV. My Soul that was so base before Each little beauty to adore Now rais'd to Glory does despise Those poor and counterfeited rays That caught me in my childish days And knows no power but her eyes V. Rais'd to this height I have no more Almighty Love for to implorâ— Of my auspicious Stars or thee Than that thou bow her noble mind To be as mercifully kind As I shall ever faithfull be Song I. SAd thoughts make hast and kill me out I live too long in pain 'T is dying to be still in doubt And death that ends all miseries The chief and only favour is The wretched can obtain II. I have liv'd long enough to know That life is a Disease At least it does torment me so That Death at whom the happy start I court to come and with his Dart To give me a release III. Come friendly Death then strike me dead For all this while I die And but long dying nothing dread Yet beign with grief the one half slain With all thy power thou wilt gain But half a Victory Elegy AWay to th' other world away In this I can no longer stay I long enough in this have stai'd To see my self poorly betrai'd Forsaken robb'd and left alone And to all purposes undone What then can tempt me to live on My Peace and Honour being gone O yes I still am call'd upon To stay by my affliction Oh fair affliction let me go You best can part with me I know 'T is an ill natur'd pride you take To triumph o'er the fool you make And you loose time in trampling o'er One whilst you might make twenty more Your eyes have still the conqu'ring pow'r They had in that same dang'rous hour They laid me at your beauties feet Your Roses still as fair and sweet And there more hearts are to subdue But oh not one that 's half so true Dismiss me then t'eternal rest I cannot live but in your Breast Where banish'd by Inconstancy The world has
thought others offences breed Nothing but true amendment one can cure Thus man who of this world a member is Is by good nature subject made To smart for what his fellows do amiss As he were guilty when he is be is betray'd And mourning for the vices of the Time Suffers unjustly for anothers Crime VIII Go foolish Soul and wash thee white Be troubled for thine own misdeeds That Heav'nly sorrow comfort breeds And true contrition turns delight â—et Princes thy past services forget Let dear-bought Friends thy Foes becom â—hough round with misery thou art beset With Scorn abroad and Poverty at home â—eep yet thy hands but clear and Conscience pure And all the ills thou shalt endure Will on thy Worth such luster set â—s shall out-shine the brightest Coronet â—nd Men at last will be asham'd to see That still For all their malice and malicious skill â—hy mind revive as it was us'd to be â—nd that they have disgrac't themselves to honor thee Hope Pindarick Ode I. HOPE thou darling and delight Of unforeseeing reckless Minds Thou deceiving Parrisite Which no where Entertainment finds But with the wretched or the vain ` T is they alone fond Hope maintain Thou easie Fool 's chief Favorite Thou fawning Slave to slaves that still remains In Galleys Dungeons and in Chains Or with a whining Lover lov'st to play With treach'rous Art Fanâ—ing his Heart A greater Slave by far than they Who in worst Durance wear their Age away Thou whose Ambition mounts no higher Nor does to greater Fame aspire Than to be ever found a lyar Thou treach'rous Fiend deluding Shade Who would with such a Phantom be betray'd By whom the wretched are at last more wretched made II. Yet once I must confess I was Such an overweening Ass As in Fortunes worst distress To believe thy Promises Which so brave a change foretold Such a stream of Happiness Such Mountain hopes of glitt'ring Gold Such Honours Friendships Offices In Love and Arms so great Success That I ev'n hugg'd my self with the conceit Was my self Party in the cheat And in my vâ—ry Bosom laid That fatal Hope by which I was betray'd Thinking my self already rich and great And in that foolish thought despis'd Th' advice of those who out of Love advis'd As I 'de soreseen what they did not foresee A Torrent of Felicity And rudely laught at those who pittying wept for me III. But of this Expectation when 't came to `t What was the fruit In sordid Robes poor Disappointment came Attended by her Handmaids Grief and Shame No Wealth no Titles no Friend could I see For they still court Prosperity Nay what was worst of what Mischance could do My dearest Love forsook me too My pretty Love with whom had she been true Even in Banishment I could have liv'd most happy and content Her sight which nourish't me withdrew I then although too late perceiv'd I was by flattering Hope deceiv'd And call'd for it t' expostulate The Treachery and foul deceit But it was then quite fled away And gone some other to betray Leaving me in a state By much more desolate Than if when first attack't by Faâ—e I had submitted there And made my courage yeild unto despair For Hope like Cordials to our wrong Does but our Miseries prolong Whilst yet our Vitals daily wast And not supporting Life but pain Call their false friendships back again And unto Death grim Death abandon us at last IV. In me false Hope in me alone Thou thine own Treach'ry hast out-done For Chance perhaps may have befriended Some one th' hast labour'd to deceive With what by thee was ne're intended Nor in thy pow'r to give But me thou hast deceiv'd in all as well Possible as impossible And the most sad Example made Of all that ever were betray'd But thou hast taught me Wisdom yet Henceforth to hope no more Than I see reason for A Precept I shall ne're forget Nor is there any thing below Worth a man's wishing or his care When what we wish begets our wo And Hope deceiv'd becomes Despair Then thou seducing Hope farewel No more thou shalt of Sense bereave me No more deceive me I now can countercharm thy Spell And for what 's past so far I will be even Never again to hope for any thing but Heaven Epistle to the Earl of TO write in Verse O Count of mine To you who have the Ladies nine With a wet finger at your call And I believe have kist 'um all Is such an undertaking none But Peakrill bold would venture on Yet having found that to my woes No help will be procur'd by Prose And to write that way is no boot I 'll try if Ryming will not doo 't Know then my Lord that on my word Since my first second and my third Which I have pester'd you withall I 've heard no syllable at all Or where you are or what you do Or if I have a Lord or no. A pretty comfort to a man That studies all the ways he can To keep an Interest he does prize Above all other Treasuries But let that pass you now must know We do on our last Quarter go And that I may go bravely out Am trowling merry Bowl about To Lord and Lady that and this As nothing were at all amiss When after twenty days are past Poor Charles has eat and drunk his last No more Plum-porridge then or Pye No Brawn with Branch of Rosemary No Chine of Beef enough to make The tallest Yeoman's Chine to crack No Bag-pipe humming in the Hall Nor noise of House-keeping at all Nor sign by which it may be said This House was once inhabited â— may perhaps with much ado Rub out a Christmas more or two Or if the Fates be pleas'd a score Bur never look to keep one more Some three Months hence I make account My Spur-gall'd Pegasus to mount When whither I intend to go My Horse as well as I will know But being got with much ado Out of the reach a Stage or two Though not the consciâ—nce of my shame And Pegasus fall'n desp'rate lame I shake my stirrups and forsake â—im Leaving him to the next will take him Not that I set so lightly by him Would any be so kind to buy him But that I think those who have seen How ill my Muse has mounted been Would certainly take better heed Than to bid money for her Steed Being then on fooâ— away I go And bang the hoof incognito Though in condition so forlorn Little Disguise will serve the turn Since best of Friends the World 's so base Scarce know a man when in Disgrace But that 's too serious Then suppose Like trav'ling Tom Coriat with dint of Toes I 'me got unto extreamest shore Sick and impatient to be o're That Channel which secur'd my state Of Peace whilst I was fortunate But in this moment of distress Confines me to unhappiness But where 's the Money to be had This surly Neptune to
Death thou Child's Bug-bear thou fools terrour Gastly set forth the weak to awe Begot by fear increast by errour Whom none but a sick Fancy ever saw Thou who art only fear'd By the illiterate and tim'rous Heard But by the wise Esteem'd the greatest of Felicities Why sithence by an Universal Law Entail'd upon Mankind thou art Should any dread or seek t' avoid thy Dart When of the two Fear is the greatest smart O senceless Man who vainly flies What Heaven has ordain'd to be The Remedy Of all thy Mortal pains and miseries III. Sorrow Want Sickness Injury Mischance The happy'st Man's certain Inheritance With all the various Ills Which the wide World with mourning â—ills Or by Corruption or Disaster bred Are for the living all not for the dead When Life's Sun sets Death is a Bed With sable Curtains spread Where we lye down To rest the weary Limbs and careful Head And to the Good a Bed of Down There there no frightful Tintamarre Of Tumult in the many headed Beast Nor all the loud Artillery of War Can fright us from that sweet that happy Rest Wherewith the still and silent Grave is blest Nor all the rattle that above they keep â—reak our repose or rouze us from that everlasting sleep IV. The Grave is priviledg'd from noise and care From Tyranny and wild oppression Violence has so little power there Ev'n worst Oppressors let the dead alone We 're there secure from Princes frowns The Insolencies of the Great From the rude hands of barb'rous Clowns And Policies of those that sweat The simple to betray and cheat Or if some one with Sacrilegious hand Would persecute us after Death His want of Power shall his Will withstand And he shall only lose his breath For all that he by that shall gain Will be Dishonour for his pain And all the clutter he can keep Will only serve to rock us whilst we soundly sleep V. The Dead no more converse with Tears With idle Jealousies and Fears No danger makes the Dead man start No idle Love torments his heart No loss of Substance Parents Children Friends Either his Peace or Sleep offends Nought can provoke his anger or despite He out of combat is and injury 'T is he of whom Philosophers so write And who would be a Stoick let him dye For whilst we living are what Man is he Who the Worlds wroâ—gs does either feel or see That possibly from Passion can be free But must put on A noble Indignation Warranted both by Vertue and Religion VI. Then let me dye and no more subject be Unto the Tyrannizing pow'rs To which this short Mortality of ours Is either preordain'd by Destiny Or bound by natural Infirmity We nothing whilst we here remain But Sorrow and Repentance gain Nay ev'n our very joyes are pain Or being past To woe and torment turn at last Nor is there yet any so sacred place Where we can sanctuary find No Man's a friend to Sorrow and Disgrace But flying one we other mischiefs meet Or if we kinder Entertainment find We bear the seeds of Sorrow in the Mind And keep our frailty when we shift our feet Whilst we are Men we still our Passions have And he that is most free is his own slave There is no refuge but the friendly Grave On the Death of the Most Noble Thomas Earl of Ossory Carmen Irregulare I ENough Enough I'lâ— hear no more And would to Heav'n I had been deaf before That â—atal Sound had struck my Ear Harsh Rumor has not left so sad a note In her hoarse Trumpet 's brazen throat To move Compassion and inforce a Tear. Methinks all Nature should relent and droop The Center shrink and Heaven stoop The Day be turn'd to mourning Night The twinkling Stars weep out their Light And all things out of their Distinction run Into their primitive Confusion A Chaos with cold Darkness overspread Since the Illustrious Ossory is dead II. When Death that fatal Arrow drew Ten Thousand hearts he pierced through Though one alone he out-right slew Never since Sin gave him his killing Trade He at one shot so great a slaughter made He needs no more at those let fly They of that wound alone will dye And who can now expect to live when he Thus fell unpriviledg'd we see He met Death in his greatest Tryumph War And always thence came off a Conqueror Through rattling shot and Pikes the Slave he sought Knock't at each Cuirass for him as he fought Beat him at Sea and baffled him on shore War 's utmost fury he out-brav'd before But yet it seems a Fever could do more III. The English Infantry are Orphans now Pale Sorrow hangs on every Souldiers-brow Who now in Honour's path shall lead you on Since your beloved General is gon Furl up your Ensigns case the warlike Drum Pay your last honours to his Tomb Hang dow your Manly heads in sign of woe That now is all that your poor Loves can do Unless by Wiâ—â—â—r's Fire or Summer's shade To tell what a brave Leader once you had Hang your now useless Arms up in the Hall There let them rust upon the sweating Wall Go Till the Fields and with inglorious Sweat An honest but a painful living get Your old neglected Callings now renew And bid to glorious War a long adieu IV. The Dutch may now have Fishing free And whilst the Consternation lasts Like the proud Rulers of the Sea Shew the full stature of their Masts Our English Neptune deaf to all Alarms Now soundly sleeps in Deaths cold Arms And on his Ebon Altar has laid down His awful Trident and his Naval Crown No more shall the tall Frigat dance For joy she carrys this Victorious Lord Who to the Capstain chain'd Mischance Commanding on her lofty board The Sea it self that is all tears Would weep her soundless Channel dry Had she unhappily but Ears To hear that Ossory could dye Ah cruel Fate thou never struck'st a blow By all Mankind regretted so Nor can't be said who should lament him most No Country such a Patriot e're could boast And never Monarch such a Subject lost V. And yet we knew that he must one day dye That should our grief asswage By Sword or Shot or by Infirmity Or if theâ—e fail'd by Age. But He alas too soon gave place To the Successors of his Noble Race We wisht and coveted to have him long He was not old enough to dye so soon And they to finish what he had begun As much too young But Time that had no hand in his mischance Is fitter to mature and to advance Their early hopes to the Inheritance Of Titles Honors Riches and Command Their Glorious Grandsir's Merits have obtain'd And which shines brighter than a Ducal Crown Of their Illustrious Family's Renown Oh may there never fail of that brave Race A man as great as the great Ossory was To serve his Prince and as successful prove In the same Valour Loyalty and Love
Passion My Star my bright Magnetick Pole And only Gâ—idress of my Soul. Thyr. Let Caelia be thy Cynosure Chloe's my Pole too though th' obscure For though her self 's all glorious My Earth 'twixt us does interpose Dam. Obscure indeed since she 's but one To mine a Constellation Her Lights throughout so glorious are That every part 's a perfect Star. Thyr. Then Caelia's Perfections Are scatter'd Chloe's like the Suns United Light compacted lye Whence all that feel their force must dye Dam. Caelia's Beauties are too bright To be contracted in one Light Nor does my fair her Rays dispence With such a stabbing Influence Since 't is her less imperious Will To save her Lovers and not kill Thyr. Each beam of her united Light Is than the greatest Star more bright And if she stay it is from hence She darts too sweet an Influence We Surfeit with 't weak Eyes must shun The dazling Glories of the Sun. Perhaps if Caelia do not kill 'T is want of Power not of Will. Dam. I now perceive thy Chloe's Eyes To be no Stars but Prodigies Comets such as blazing stand To threaten ruin to a Land Beacons of sulph'rous Flame they are Symptoms not of Peace but War And thou I guess by singing thus Thence stoll'st thine Ignis fatuâ—s Thyr. As th' vulgar are amaz'd at th' Sun When tripled by reflection Câ—loe's self and glorious Eyes To thee seem Comets in the Skies And true they may portend some Wars Such as 'twixt Venus and her Mars But chast whose captivating Bands Would People and not ruin Lands With such a Going fire I 'll stray For who with it can lose his way Dam. The Vulgar may perhaps be won By thee to think her Sun and Moon And so would I but that my more Convincing Caelia I adore Would we had both that Chloe thine And my dear Caelia might be mine But if we should thus mix with Ray In Heav'n would be no Night but Day For we should People all the Skies With Plannet-Girls and Starry-Boyes Chloe's a going-fire we see Pray Pan she do not go from thee Thyr. Thanks Damon but she does I fear The Shadows now so long appear Yet if she do we 'll both find Day â—'â—h ' Sun-shine of thy Caelia Her Sigh I. SHE sighs and has blown over now The storms that thrat'ned in her brow The Heaven 's now serene and clear And bashful blushes do appear Th' Errour sh' has found That did me wound Thus with her od'rous Sigh my hopes are crown'd II. Now she relents for now I hear Repentance whisper in my Ear Happy repentance that begets By this sweet Airy motion heats And does destroy Her Heresie That my Faith branded with Inconstancy III. When Thisbe's Pyramus was slain This sigh had fetcht him back again And such a sigh from Dido's Chest Wasted the Trojan to her Breast Each of her sighs My Love does prize Reward for thousand thousand Cruelties IV. Sigh on my Sweet and by thy Breath Immortal grown I 'll laugh at Death Had Fame so sweet a one we shou'd In that regard learn to be good Sigh on my Fair Henceforth I swear I could Cameleon turn and live by Air On the Lamented Death of my Dear Uncle Mr. Radcliff Stanhope SUch is th' unsteddy state of humane things And Death so certain that their period brings So frail is Youth and strength so sure this sleep That much we cannot wonder though we weep Yet since 't is so it will not misbecom Either perhaps our Sorrows or his Tomb To breath a Sigh and drop a mourning Tear Upon the cold face of his Sepulcher Well did his life deserve it if to be A great Example of Integrity Honour and Truth Fidelity and Love In such perfection as if each had strove T'out-do Posterity may deserve our care Or to his Funeral command a Tear Faithful he was and just and sweetly good To whom ally'd in Virtue or in Blood His Breast from other conversation chast Above the reach of giddy Vice was plac't Then had not Death that crops in 's Savage speed The fairest flower with the rankest weed Thus made a beastly Conquest of his Prime And cut him off before grown ripe for Time How bright an Evening must this Morn pursue Is to his Life a Contemplation due Proud Death t' arrest his thriving Virtue thus Unhappy Fate not to himself but us That so have lost him for no doubt but he Was fit for Heav'n as years could make him be Age does but muster Sin and heap up woes Against the last and general Rendezvous Whereas he dy'd full of obedient Truth Wrap't in his spotless Innocence of Youth Farewell Dear Vncle may thy hop'd for Bliss To thee be real as my Sorrow is May they be nam'd together since I do Nothing more perfect than my sorrow know And if thy Soul into mens minds have Eyes It knows I truly weep these Obsequies On the Lord Derby TO what a formidable greatness grown Is this prodigious Beast Rebellion When Sovereignty and it s so sacred Law Thus lies subjected to his Tyrant awe And to what daring impudence he grows When not content to trample upon those He still destroys all that with honest flames Of loyal Love would propagate their Names In this great ruin Derby lay thy Fate Derby unfortunately fortunate Unhappy thus to fall a Sacrifice To such an Irreligious Power as this And blest as 't was thy nobler sence to dye A constant Lover of thy Loyalty Nor is it thy Calamity alone Since more lye whelm'd in this Subversion And first the justest and the best of Kings Roab'd in the glory of his Sufferings By his too violent Fate inform'd us all What tragick ends attended his great fall Since when his Subjects some by chance of War Some by perverted justice at the Bar Have perish't thus what th' other leaves this takes And who so scapes the Sword falls by the Axe Amongst which throng of Martyrs none could boast Of more fidelity than the world has lost In losing thee when in contempt of spite Thy steddy faith at th'exit crown'd with Light His Head above their malice did advance They could not murder thy Allegiance Not when before those Iudges brought to th'test Who in the symptomes of thy ruin drest Pronounc't thy Sentence Basilisks whose Breath Is killing Poyson and whose Looks are Death Then how unsafe a Guard Man's virtue is Iâ— this false Age when such as do amiss Controul the honest sort and make a prey Of all that are not villanous as they Does to our Reasons Eyes too plain appear In the mischance of this Illustrious Peer Blood-thirsty Tyrants of usurped State In facts of Death prompt and insatiate That in your Flinty Bosoms have no sence Of Manly Honour or of Conscience But do since Monarchy lay drown'd in Blood Proclaim 't by Act high Treason to be good Cease yet at last for shame let Derby's fall Great and good Derby's expiate for all