Field of standing Corn In doubtfull conflict wave their pendant Heads By the uncertain Air confus'dly born Which only whispring the large Field orespreads But by a sudden storm depres't and torn Drooping their bearded tops to their first beds Whilst the rude Wind exalted with his prize To the next crop with riotous fury flies CVI. So far'd it with the League who for a space With equal fortune well maintain'd their post Fighting with equal brav'ry face to face No side of other could advantage boast Equal their Honor equal their Disgrace Till at the last all hopes of safety lost The valiant on the Bed of Honor lye Whilst the less daring in confusion fly CVII Half kill'd with fear the coward Rebels run Thorough the Field an Ignominious race Like fearfull Deer they crow'd away to shun The danger of the Loyal hunters Chase Who generously think too soon t' have won An easy Conquest with too little grace And wish they had better resistance â—ound To have their Acts with greater Glory Crown'd CVIII Although indâ—ed no Annalls can out speak Or speak enough of this great Victory Where such a handfull could such Squadrons break Repell their force and make their Captain fly In courage strong alas in numbers weak Arm'd only with their Faith and Loyalty But Heav'n was pleas'd to favour Henry's claim Against whose will all Earthly strength is vain CIX On ev'ry side the Monarch's Arms prevail And put the Leaguers to a shamefull flight They now pursue that Foe who to assail Their thiner Troops brought such a seeming might Some flying 'scape whilst others falling quail To bid their Honours with the World good Night But none so daring in that desp'rate State As once to turn and look upon his Fate CX Yet in this Torrent of admir'd success Even some Victors Hearts were full of woe Because their longing Eyes they could not bless With their Loves Object nor did all their know There Prince's safety and their happiness But fear'd him fall'n in the late overthrow In such a doubtfull and afflicted sort Many had drunk the poyson of report CXI But when they saw him from the Chase retire Their drooping Spirits then began to wake The Souldiers crow'd t' approach their Sov'rain nigher And as their Eyes a full assurance take Their Loyal Hearts o're charg'd with zealous fire Straight into Thundring Acclimations break Vive le Roy thorough the Welkin ran Which so auspitiously the Day began CXII Still like the Sparks of a late master'd fire Some Foes appear'd on the forsaken Plain The Leaguers Infantry remain'd entire Of which the sturdy Swisse seem'd to disdain A shamefull flight nor could they safe retire But to their ruine and Eternal shame Wherefore the brawny Clowns as undismay'd Some shew of resolute resistance made CXIII But when they saw the Canon drawing neer To force their Arms and tame their fruitless pride Their stubborn Hearts then thaw'd away in fear Their threatning words and looks were laid aside They think to trust his mercy safest were Whose Conquering Sword they had so lately try'd And straight way down their useless weapons threw To beg that grace chance had reduc't them to CXIV Nor were they ill advis'd for the brave king So scorn'd the ruin of a prostrate Foe That sooner could they not their Arms down fling Than he preserve them from the Angry blow That Death and Vengeance both were levelling With Fire and Sword to work their overthrow His Princely Quarter they do all obtain Without one Wound that might his Mercy stain CXV But with the German Foot far worse it far'd Whose base revolt from the King's Standard made Their Crime so black and Mercies doors so barr'd The Souldiers hands could be no longer stay'd But for their Treason as a just reward The faithless Squadrons furiously invade Strewing the Plain with their dismembered Limbs Which in the Ocean of their false Blood swims CXVI And now the Fields the Conquerors entire No opposition left no Foe appears The Royalists triumphantly retire Whilst Victory the waving Banners bears Nor dare my Muse to other Acts aspire So much the Fate of this attempt she feares Owning her weakness in Heroick Song That may have done these noble Heroes wrong CXVII Thus did this Day so doubtfully begun Set red in Henry's Honour and Renown He that in all his Battails ever won A Victor's Wreath and in this last his Crown Which having humbly kiss't the bafl'd Sun Into the Western Ocean bow'd him down Leaving fair France unto his brighter Ray May ev'ry injur'd Prince have such a Day W. WHYTE Amen FINIS Advertisement THe Great French Dictionary In Two Parts The First French and English The Second English and French according to the Ancient and Modern Orthography Wherein Eâ—ch Language 〈◊〉 Set forth in its greatest Latitude The various Senses of Words both Proper and Figurative are orderly Digested and â—llustrated with Apposite 〈◊〉 and Proverbs The Hard Words Explained and the Proprieties Adjusted To which are Prefixed the Grounds of Both Languages in Two Grammatical Discourses the One English and the Other French. By Guy Miâ—ge Gent London Printed for Thomas Basset at the George near St. Dunstan's Church in Fleet-street
from Anacreon THe Earth with swallowing drunken showers Reels a perpetual round And with their Healths the Trees and Flowers Again drink up the Ground The Sea of Liquor spuing full The ambient Air doth sup And thirsty Phoebus at a pull Quaffs off the Ocean's cup. When stagg'ring to a resting place His bus'ness being done The Moon with her pale platter face Comes and drinks up the Sun. Since Elements and Planets then Drink an eternal round 'T is much more proper sure for men Have better Liquor found Why may not I then tell me pray Drink and be drunk as well as they On Christmas-day Hymn I. RIse happy Mortals from your sleep Bright Phospher now begins to peep In such apparel as ne'er dress'd The proudest day-break of the East Death's Sable Curtain 'gins disperse And now the blessed Morn appears Which has long'd and pray'd for him So many Centuries of years To defray th'arrears of sin Now through the joyfull Universe Beams of Mercy and of Love Shoot forth comfort from above And Choires of Angels do proclaim The Holy Iesus blessed Name II. Rise Sheepherds leave your Flocks and run The Soul 's great Sheepherd now is come Oh! wing your tardy feet and fly To greet this dawning Majesty Heaven's Messenger in tidings bless'd Invites you to the Sacred place Where the blessed Babe of Joy Wrapp'd in his Holy Father's Grace Come's the Serpent to destroy That lurks in ev'ry humane Breast To Iudah's Beth'lem turn your feet There you shall Salvation meet There in a homely Manger hurl'd Lies the Messias of the World. III. Riding upon the Morning's wings The joyfull Air Salvation sings Peace upon Earth tow'rds men good will Ecchoes from ev'ry Vale and Hill For why the Prince of Peace is come The glorious Infant who this Morn By a strange mysterious Birth Is of his Virgin Mother born To redeem the Seed of Earth From foul rebellious heavy doom Travel Magi of the East To adore this sacred Guest And offer up with reverence Your Gold your Myrrhe and Frankincense IV. At th'teeming of this Blessed Womb All Nature is one Joy become The Fire the Earth the Sea and Air The great Salvation do declare The Mountains skip with Joy's excess The Ocean 's briny billows swell O'er the surface of their Lands And at this Sacred Miracle Flouds do clap their liquid hands Joy's Inundation to express Babes spring in the narrow rooms Of their tender Mothers Wombs And all for Triumph of the Morn Wherein the Child of bliss was born V. Let each religious Soul then risâ— To offer up a Sacrifice And on the wings of Pray'r and Praise His gratefull heart to Heaven raise For this that in a Stable lies This poor neglected Babe is he Hell and Death that must controll And speak the blessed Word be free To ev'ry true believing Soul Death has no sting nor Hell no prize Through his Merits great whilst we Travel to Eternity And with the Blessed Angels sing Hosannah's to the Heav'nly King. Chorus RIse then O rise and let your voices Tell the Spheres the Soul rejoyces In Beth'lem this auspicious Morn The Glorious Son of God is born The Child of Glory Prince of Peace Brings Mercy that will never cease Merits that wipe away the sin Each Humane Soul was forfeit in And washing off the fatall stain Man to his Maker knits again Joyn then your gratefull Notes and sing Hosannah's to the Heav'nly King. Saphick Ode HOw easie is his Life and free Who urg'd by no necessity Eats chearfull Bread and over night does pay For 's next day 's Crapula No suitor such a mean estate Invites to be importunate No supple flatt'rer robbing Villain or Obstreperous Creditor This man does need no Bolts nor Locks Nor needs he start when any knocks But may on careless Pillow lie and snoar With a wide open door Trouble and Danger Wealth attend An usefull but a dang'rous Friend Who makes us pay e'er we can be releas'd Quadruple Interest Let 's live to day then for to morrow The Fool 's too provident will borrow A thing which through Chance or Infirmity 'T is odds he ne'er may see Spend all then e'er you go to Heaven So with the World you will make even And men discharge by dying Nature's score Which done we owe no more The Morning Quatrains I. THe Cock has crow'd an hour ago 'T is time we now dull sleep forgo Tir'd Nature is by sleep redress'd And Labour 's overcome by Rest. II. We have out-done the work of Night 'T is time we rise t' attend the Light And â—'er he shall his Beams display To plot new bus'ness for the day III. None but the slothfull or unsound Are by the Sun in Feathers found Nor without rising with the Sun Can the World's bus'ness e'er be done IV. Hark! Hark! the watchfull Chanticler Tells us the day's bright Harbinger Peeps o'er the Eastern Hills to awe And warn night's sov'reign to withdraw V. The Morning Curtains now are drawn And now appears the blushing dawn Aurora has her Roses shed To strew the way Sol's steeds must tread VI. Xanthus and Aethon harness'd are To roll away the burning Carr And snorting flame impatient bear The dressing of the Chariotier VII The sable Cheeks of sullen Night Are streak'd with Rosie streams of light Whilst she retires away in fear To shade the other Hemisphere VIII The merry Lark now takes her wings And long'd-for days loud wellcome sings Mounting her body out of sight As if she meant to meet the light IX Now doors and windows are unbar'd Each-where are chearfull voices heard And round about Good-morrows fly As if Day taught Humanity X. The Chimnies now to smoke begin And the old Wife sits down to spin Whilst Kate taking her Pail does trip Mulls swoln and stradl'ing Paps to strip XI Vulcan now makes his Anvil ring Dick whistles loud and Maud doth sing And Silvio with his Bugle Horn Winds an Imprime unto the Morn XII Now through the morning doors behold Phoebus array'd in burning Gold Lashing his fiery Steeds displays His warm and all enlight'ning Rays XIII Now each one to his work prepares All that have hands are Labourers And Manufactures of each trade By op'ning Shops are open laid XIV Hob yokes his Oxen to the Team The Angler goes unto the stream The Wood-man to the Purlews highs And lab'ring Bees to load their thighs XV. Fair Amarillis drives her Flocks All night safe folded from the Fox To flow'ry Downs where Collin stays To court her with his Roundelays XVI The Traveller now leaves his Inn A new days Journey to begin As he would post it with the day And early rising makes good way XVII The slick-fac'd School-boy Sachel takes And with slow pace small riddance makes For why the haste we make you know To Knowledge and to Vertue 's slow XVIII The Foreâ—horse gingles on the Road The Waggoner lugs on his Load The Field with busie People snies And City rings with various
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
Thus did I fare and acceptable pass To all and thus a lusty Suiter was And only so For Nature my strong Brest In Modesty and Chastity had drest For whilst I strove the choices Fair to wed I wore out Cold ev'n to a Widdow'd Bed. They all to me ill bred or ugly seem'd And I none worthy my Embraces deem'd I hated lean ones fat were a Disease Neither the low nor yet the tall would please With middle Forms I ever lov'd to play And in the midst most Graces ever lay Here of our softest parts lies all the bliss And in this part Loves Mother seated is A slender Lass not lean I lov'd to chuse For Flesh is fittest for a â—leshy use One whose most strait Embraces would delight Not one whose Bones should goar my Ribs in Fight I lov'd no Fair unless her Cheeks were spread With native Roses of the purest red This Tincture Venus owns above the rest And loves the Beauty in her Flower drest A long white Neck and golden flowing Hair Have long been known to make a Woman fair But black Brows and black Eyes catch my Desire And still when seen have set my Heart of fire I ever lov'd a red and swelling Lip Where a full Bowl of Kisses I might sip A long round Neck than Gold appear'd more rare And the most wealthy Gem outshone by far Ill fits it Age to speak his wanton prime And what was decent then is now a Crime For various things do diff'rent Men delight Nor yet are all things for all Ages right Things apt for one Age at the last may grow Uncomely for the self-same Man to do The Child by play th' old Man 's by stead'ness seen But the young Man's Behaviour lies between This silent sadness best becomes and that Is better lik'd of for his Mirth and Chat For rolling times does all things turn and sway And suffers none to run one certain way Now that a long unprofitable Age Lies heavy on me I would quit the Stage Life's hard Condition gripes the Wretched still Nor is Death sway'd by any humane Will. The Wretch wishes to die but Death retires Yet when Men dread him then the Slave aspires But I alass that maâ—gre all my Arts Have been so long dead in so many parts On Earth I think shall never end my Days But enter quick the dark Tartarean ways My Tast and Hearing 's ill mine Eyes are such Nay I can scarce distinguish by my Touch No Smell is sweet nor Pleasure who 'd believe A Man could sensibly his Sense out live Lethe's Oblivion does my Mind embrace And yet I can remember what I was The Limbs diseas'd the Mind no Work contrives The thought of ills all other aim deprives I sing no Lyricks now that dear Delight With all my Voices Grace is perish'd quite Frequent no Exercise no Odes rehearse And only with my Pains and Griefs converse The Beauty of my Shape and Face are fled And my revolted Form ' fore-speaks me dead For fair and shining Age has now put on A bloodless Funeral Complexion My Skin 's dry'd up my Nerves unpliant are And my poor Limbs my Nails plow up and tear My chearful Eyes now with a constant Spring Of Tears bewail their own sad Suffering And those soft Lids that once secur'd mine Eye Now rude and bristled grown does drooping lie Bolting mine Eyes as in a gloomy cavâ— Which there on Furies and grim Objects rave 'T would fright the full-blown Gallant to behold The dying Object of a Man so old Nor can you think that once a Man he was Of humane reason who no portion has The Letters split when I consult my Book And ev'ry Leaf I turn'd does broader look In Darkness do I dream I see the Light When Light is Darkness to my perish'd Sight Without a Night t'oreshade him the bright Day Is from my Sense depriv'd and snatch'd away Who can deny that wrap'd in Nights Embrace I groping lie in the Tartarean place What mad Adviser would a Man perswade By his own Wish to be more wretched made Diseases now invade and Dangers swarm Sweet Banquets now and Entertainments harm We 're forc'd to wean our selves from grateful things And though we live avoid the sweets Life brings And me whom late no accident could bend Now the meer Aliments of Life offend I would be full am sick when I am so Should fast but abstinence is hurtful too 'T is chang'd to surfeit now what once was Meat And that 's now nauseous which before was sweet Venus and Bacchus's Rites now fruitless are That use to lull this Life's contingent Care. Nature alone panting and prosâ—rate lies Caught in the ruin of her proper Vice. Julip nor Cordial now no Comfort give Nor ought that should a Patient sick relieve But with their Matter their Corruption have And only serve to importune my Grave When I attempt to prop my falling Frame The Letts oppos'd make my Endeavours lame Until my Dissolutions tardy day All helps of Arts do with the thing decay And by th' appearance since th' afflicted Mind Can no diversion nor advantage find 〈◊〉 it not hard we may not from Mens Eyes Cloak and conceal Ages Indecencies Unseeming Spruceness th' old Man discommends And in old Men only to live offends With Mirth Feasts Songs the old must not dispense â—O wretched they whose Joys are an offence What should I do with Wealth whose use being ta'ne Although I swim in store I poor remain Nay 't is a Sin to what we have got to trust And what 's our own to violate unjust So thirsty Tantalus the neighbour Stream And Fruit would tast but is forbidden them I but the Treas'rer am of my own Pelf Keeping for others what 's deny'd my self And like the Fell Hesperian Dragon grown Defend that golden Fruit's no more my own This above all is that augments my Woes And robs my troubl'd Mind of all Repose I strive to keep things I could never gain And ignorantly hold some things in vain Continu'd Fears do credulous age invade And th' old Man dreads the ills himself has made Applauds the past condemns the present Years And only what he thinks Truth Truth appears He only learned is has all the skill And thinking himself wise is wider still Who though with Trouble he much Talk affords Faulters forgets and dribbles out his Words The Hearer's tir'd but he continues long O wretched Age only in prating strong Idly he talks and strains his feeble Voice Whilst those he pleas'd before laugh at his noise Their Mirth exalts him he still louder grows And dotingly his own Reproach allows These are Death's Firstlings Age does this way flow And with slow pace creeps to the Shades below Whilst the same Colour Meen nor pace appear In the poor Traveller that lately vvere My Garment from my vvither'd Limbs hangs down And vvhat before too short too long is grovvn We strangely are contracted and decrease A Man vvould think our very