did she pause and with a mild Aspect Did towards me those lamping Twins direct The wonted Raies I knew and thrice essay'd To Answer make thrice faulâ—ring Tongue it stay'd And while upon that Face I fed my Sight Me thought she vanisht up to Titans Light Who guilding with his Rayes each Hill and Plaine Seem'd to have brought the Golden World againe URANIA TRiumphing Chariots Statues Crowns of Bayes Skie-threatning Arches the rewards of worth Books heavenly-wise in sweet harmonious layes Which men divine unto the World set forth States which Ambitious Minds in bloud do raise From frozen Tanais unto sun-burnt Gange Gigantall Frames held wonders rarely strange Like Spiders webs are made the sport of Daies Nothing is constant but in constant change What 's done still is undone and when undone Into some other Fashion doth it range Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone Wherefore my Mind above Time Motion Place Rise up and steps unknown to Nature trace TOo long I followed have my fond Desire And too long painted on the Ocean Streames Too long refreshment sought amidst the fire Pursu'd those joyes which to my Soule are Blames Ah when I had what most I did admire And seen of Lifes Delights the last extreames I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer A Nought a Thought a Mascarade of Dreames Henceforth on Thee my only Good I 'll thinke For only thou canst grant what I do crave Thy Naile my Pen shall be thy Bloud mine Inke Thy Winding-sheet my Paper Studie Grave And till my Soule forth of this body flie No Hope I 'll have but only only thee TO spread the Azure Canopy of Heaven And spangle it all with Sparkes of burning Gold To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold With motions strange t' indue the Planets seven And Jove to make so mild and Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet Accords are given Lord to thy Wisdome's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come basely in Mortality to bide And die for those deserv'd an endlesse night A Wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to thinke on it WHat haplesse Hap had I for to be borne In these unhappy Times and dying Daies Of this now doting World when Good decayes Love 's quite extinct and Vertue 's held a scorne When such are only pris'd by wretched waies Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne When Avarice and Lust are counted praise And bravest Minds live Orphane-like forlorne Why was not I borne in that golden Age When Gold yet was not known and those black Arts By which Base Worldlings vilely play their parts With Horrid Acts staining Earths stately Stage To have been then O heaven 't had been my bliss But blesse me now and take me soone from this On the Pourtrait of the Countesse of Perthe SON THe Goddesse that in Amathus doth raigne With silver Tramells and Saphir-colour'd Eyes When naked from her Mothers Chrystall Plaine She first appear'd unto the wondring Skies Or when the golden-Apple to obtaine Her blushing Snow amazed Idas Trees Did never look in halfe so faire a guise As She here drawn all other Ages Staine O God what Beauties to inflame the Soule And hold the hardest Hearts in Chaines of Gold Faire Locks sweet Face Loves stately Capitole Pure Neck which doth that heavenly Frame uphold If Vertue would to mortall Eyes appeare To ravish sense She would your Beautie wear SON IF Heaven the Stars and Nature did her grace With all Perfections found the Moone above And what excelleth in this lower Place Found place in her to breed a World of Love If Angels Gleames shine on her fairest Face Which makes Heavens Joy on Earth the gazer prove And her bright Eyes the Orbes which Beauty move As Phoebus dazell in his glorious Race What Pencill paint what Colour to the sight So sweet a Shape can show the blushing Morne The red must lend the Milkie-way the white And Night the Stars which her rich Crown adorne To draw her right then and make all agree The Heaven the Table Zeuxis Jove must be On that same drawn with a Pencill SON WHen with brave Art the curious Painter drew This Heavenly Shape the hand why made he beare With golden Veines that Flow'r of purple hue Which follows on the Planet of the yeare Was it to show how in our Hemispheare Like him She shines nay that effects more true Of Power and Wonder do in her appeare While He but Flow'rs and She doth Minds subdue Or would he else to Vertues glorious light Her constant Course make known or is 't that He Doth paralell her blisse with Clitias plight Right so and thus He reading in Her Eye Some Lovers end to grace what he did grave For Cypres Tree this mourning Flow'r her gave MADRIGALL IF sight be not beguil'd And eyes right play their part This Flower is not of Art But 's fairest Natures Child And though when Titanâ—s from our World exil'd She doth not lock her leaves his losse to moane No wonder Earth finds now more Suns than one To the Author Parthenius WHile thou dost praise the Roses Lillies Gold Which in a dangling Tresse and Face appeare Still stands the Sun in Skies thy Songs to heare A Silence sweet each whispering Wind doth hold Sleep in Pasithea's Lap his Eyes doth fold The Sword falls from the God of the fift Spheare The Heards to feed the Birds to sing forbeare Each Plant breaths Love each Floud and Fountain cold And hence it is that that once Nymph now Tree Who did th' Amphrisian Shepheards Sighs disdaine And scorn'd his Layes mov'd by a sweeter Vaine Is become pitifull and follows Thee Thee loves and vanâ—eth that she hath the Grace A Garland for thy Locks to enterlace Alexis THe Love Alexis did to Damon beare Shall witness'd be to all the Woods and Plaines As singular renown'd by neighbouring Swaines That to our Relicts Time may Trophees reare Those Madrigals we sung amidst our Flocks With Garlands guarded from Apollos Beames On Ochelles whiles neare Bodottias Streames The Ecchoes did resound them from the Rocks Of forraine Shepheards bent to try the States Though I Worlds Guest a Vagabond do stray Thou may that Store which I esteem Survey As best acquainted with my Soules Conceits What ever Fate Heavens have for me design'd I trust thee with the Treasure of my Mind Clorus SWan which so sweetly sings By Aska's Bankes and pitifully plains That old Meander never heard such Straines Eternall Fame thou to thy Country brings And now our Calidon Is by thy Songs made a new Helicon Her Mountaines Woods and Springs While Mountains Woods Springs be shall sound thy praise And though fierce Boreas oft make pale her Bayes And kill those Mirtills with enraged Breath Which should thy Brows enwreath Her Flouds have Pearles Seas
wildest Pow'rs doth tame His Providence extending every-where His Justice which proud Rebels doth not spare In every Page no Period of the same But silly we like foolish Children rest Well pleas'd with colour'd Velum Leaves of Gold Faire dangling Ribbands leaving what is best On the great Writers sense ne're taking hold Or if by chance we stay our Minds on ought It is some Picture on the Margine wrought THe Griefe was common common were the cries Teares Sobs and Groanes of that afflicted Traine Which of Gods chosen did the Sum containe And Earth rebounded with them pierc'd were Skies All good had left the World each Vice did raign In the most monstrous sorts Hell could devise And all Degrees and each Estate did staine Nor further had to go whom to surprize The World beneath the Prince of Darknesse lay And in each Temple had himselfe install'd Was sacrific'd unto by Prayers call'd Responses gave which fooles they did obey When pittying Man God of a Virgines wombe Was borne and those false Deities strooke dumbe RUn Shepheards run where Bethlem blest appears We bring the best of News be not dismay'd A Saviour there is borne more old than yeares Amidst the rolling Heaven this Earth who stay'd In a poore Cottage Inn'd a Virgin Maid A weakling did him beare who all upbeares There he in Cloaths is wrapt in Manger laid To whom too narrow Swadlings are our Spheares Run Shepheards run and solemnize his Birth This is that Night no Day grown great with Blisse In which the Power of Satan broken is In Heaven be Glory Peace unto the Earth Thus singing through the Aire the Angels swame And all the Stars re-ecchoed the same O Than the fairest day thrice fairer night Night to best Daies in which a Sun doth rise Of which the golden Eye which cleares the Skies Is but a sparkling Ray a Shadow light And blessed ye in silly Pastors sight Mild Creatures in whose warme Crib now lies That Heaven-sent Youngling holy-Maid-born Wight ' Midst end beginning of our Prophesies Blest Cottage that hath Flow'rs in Winter spread Though withered blessed Grasse that hath the grace To deck and be a Carpet to that Place Thus singing to the sounds of oaten Reed Before the Babe the Shepheards bow'd their knees And Springs ran Nectar Honey dropt from Trees TO spread the azure Canopy of Heaven And make it twinkle with those spangs of Gold To stay the pondrous Globe of Earth so even That it should all and nought should it uphold To give strange motions to the Planets seven Or Jove to make so meek or Mars so bold To temper what is moist dry hot and cold Of all their Jars that sweet accords are given Lord to thy Wisdom's nought nought to thy Might But that thou shouldst thy Glory laid aside Come meanely in mortality to ' bide And die for those deserv'd eternall plight A wonder is so far above our wit That Angels stand amaz'd to muse on it THe last and greatest Herauld of Heavens King Girt with rough Skins hies to the Desarts wild Among that savage brood the Woods forth bring Which he more harmelesse found than man and mild His food was Locusts and what there doth spring With Honey that from Virgine Hives distill'd Parcht Body hollow Eyes some uncouth thing Made him appeare long since from Earth exil'd There burst he forth all ye whose Hopes rely On God with me amidst these Desarts mourne Repent repent and from old errours turne Who list'ned to his voice obey'd his cry Only the Ecchoes which he made relent Rung from their flinty Caves repent repent THese Eyes deare Lord once Tapers of Desire Fraile Scouts betraying what they had to keep Which their own heart then others set on fire Their trait'rous black before thee here out-weep These Locks of blushing deeds the gilt attire Waves curling wrackfull shelves to shadow deep Rings wedding Soules to Sins lethargick sleep To touch thy sacred Feet do now aspire In Seas of care behold a sinking Barke By winds of sharpe remorse unto thee driven O let me not be Ruines aym'd at marke My faults confest Lord say they are forgiven Thus sigh'd to Jesus the Bethanian faire His teare-wet Feet still drying with her Haire I changed Countries new delights to find But ah for pleasure I did find new paine Enchanting Pleasure so did Reason blind That Fathers love and words I scorn'd as vaine For Tables rich for bed for following traine Of carefull servants to observe my Mind These Heards I keep my fellows are assign'd My Bed's a Rock and Herbs my Life sustaine Now while I famine feele feare worser harmes Father and Lord I turne thy Love yet great My faults will pardon pitty mine estate This where an aged Oake had spread its Armes Thought the lost Child while as the Heards he led And pin'd with hunger on wild Acorns fed IF that the World doth in amaze remaine To heare in what a sad deploring mood The Pelican poures from her brest her Bloud To bring to life her younglings back againe How should we wonder at that soveraigne Good Who from that Serpents sting that had us slaine To save our lives shed his Lifes purple flood And turn'd to endlesse Joy our endlesse Paine Ungratefull Soule that charm'd with false Delight Hast long long wander'd in Sins flowry Path And didst not thinke at all or thoughtst not right On this thy Pelicans great Love and Death Here pause and let though Earth it scorn heaven seâ— Thee poure forth tears to him pour'd Bloud for thee IF in the East when you do there behold Forth from his Christall Bed the Sun to rise With rosie Robes and Crowne of flaming Gold If gazing on that Empresse of the Skies That takes so many formes and those faire Brands Which blaze in Heavens high Vault Nights watchful eyes If seeing how the Seas tumultuous Bands Of bellowing Billows have their course confin'd How unsustain'd the Earth still stedfast stands Poore mortall Wights you e're found in your Mind A thought that some great King did sit above Who had such Laws and Rites to them assign'd A King who fix'd the Poles made Spheares to move All Wisdome Purenesse Excellency Might All Goodnesse Greatnesse Justice Beauty Love With feare and wonder hither turne your Sight See see alas him now not in that State Thought could fore-cast Him into Reasons light Now Eyes with tears now Hearts with griefe make great Bemoane this cruell Death and ruthfull case If ever Plaints just Woe could aggravate From Sin and Hell to save us humane Race See this great King nail'd to an abject Tree An object of reproach and sad disgrace O unheard Pity Love in strange degree He his own Life doth give his Bloud doth shed For Wormelings base such Worthinesse to see Poore Wights behold his Visage pale as Lead His Head bow'd to His Brest Locks sadly rent Like a cropt Rose that languishing doth fade Weake Nature weepe astonish'd World lament Lament you Winds
never want Delight even when I grone Best companied when most I am alone A Heaven of Hopes I have midst Hells of Feares Thus every way Contentment strange I find But most in Her rare Beauty my rare Mind SON VAunt not fair Heavens of your two glorious Lights Which though â—ost bright yet see not when they shine And shining cannot show their Beames divine Both in one Place but part by Daies and Nights Earth vaunt not of those Treasures ye enshrine Held only deare because hid from our Sights Your pure and burnish'd Gold your Diamonds fine Snow-passing Ivory that the Eye delights Nor Seas of those deare Wares are in you found Vaunt not rich Pearle red Corrall which do stir A fond desire in Fooles to plunge your Ground These all more faire are to be had in Her Pearle Ivory Corrall Diamond Suns Gold Teeth Neck Lips Heart Eyes Haire are to behold SON WHen Nature now had wonderfully wrought All Auristellas Parts except her Eyes To make those Twins two Lamps in Beauties Skies She Counsell of her Starry Seâ—aâ—e sought Mars and Apollo first did her advise To wrap in Colour Black those Comets bright Thâ—t Love him so might soberly disguise And unperceived Wound at every Sight Chaste Phoebe spake for purest azure dies But Jove and Venus green about the Light To frame thought best as bringing most Delight That to pin'd Hearts Hope might for aye arise Nature all said a Paradise of green There plac'd to make all love which have them seen SON NOw while the Night her â—able Vaile hath spred And silently her resty Coach doth rolle Rowsing with Her from Tethis azure Bed Those starry Nymphs which dance about the Pole While Cynthia in purest Cipres cled The Laâ—mian Shepheard in a â—rance descries And looking pale from height of all the Skies She dies her Beauties in a blushing Red While Sleep in Triumph closed hath all Eyes And Birds and Beasts a Silence sweet do keep And Proteus monstrous People in the Deep The Winds and Waves husht up to rest entise I wake I turne I weep opprest with Paine Perplex'd in the Meanders of my Braine SON SLeep Silence Child sweet Father of soft Rest Prince whose Approach Peace to all Mortals brings Indifferent Host to Shepheards and to Kings Sole Comforter of Minds which are opprest Loe by thy Charming Rod all breathing Things Lie slumbring with Forgetfulnesse possest And yet o're me to spread thy drowsie Wings Thou spar'st alas who cannot be thy Guest Since I am thine O come but with that Face To inward Light which thou art wont to shew With fained Solace ease a true felt Woe Or if deafe God thou do deny 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 silver Shine Makes sweet the Horror of the dreadfull Night Delighting the weake Eye with smiles divine Which Phoebus dazels with his too much Light Bright Queen of the first Heaven if in thy Shrine By turning oft and Heavens eternall Might Thou hast not yet that once sweet Fire of thine Endemion forgot and Lovers Plight If Cause like thine may Pity breed in thee And Pity somewhat else to it obtaine Since thou hast Power of Dreames as well as He That holds the golden Rod and Morall Chaine Now while She sleeps in dolefull Guise her Show These Teares and the black Map of all my Woe SON LAmpe of Heavens Christall Hall that brings the Houres Eye-dazeler who makes the ugly Night At thy Approach flie to her slumbry Bowres And fills the World with Wonder and Delight Life of all lives Death-giver by thy flight To the south Pole from these sixe Signes of ours Gold-smith of all the Stars with Silver bright Who Moone enamells Apelles of the Flowers Ah from those watry Plaines thy golden Head Raise up and bring the so long lingring Morne A Grave nay Hell I find become this Bed This Bed so grievously where I am torne But woe is me though thou now brought the Day Day shall but serve moe Sorrows to display SONG IT was the time when to our Northerne Pole The brightest Lampe of Heaven begins to rolle When Earth more wanton in new Robes appeareth And scorning Skies her Flowres in Rain-bows beareth On which the Aire moist Diamonds doth bequeath Which quake to feele the kissing Zephires breath When Birds from shady Groves their Love forth warble And Sea-like Heaven Heaven looks like smoothest Marble When I in simple course free from all Cares Far from the muddy Worlds inslaving snares By Oras flowry Bankes alone did wander Ora that sports her like to old Meander A Floud more worthy Fame and lasting praise Then that so high which Phaëtons fall did raise By whose pure moving Glasse the Milke-white Lillies Do dresse their tresses and the Daffadâ—llies Where Ora with a Wood is crown'd about And seems forgets the way how to come out A place there is where a delicious Fountaine Springs frâ—m the swelling brest of a proud Mountaine Whose falling Streames the quiet Cavernes wound And make the Echoes shrill resound that sound The Laurâ—ll there the shing Channell graces The Palm hâ—r Love with long-stretch'd Arms embraces The Poplar spreads her Branches to the Skie And hides from sight that azure Canopy The Streams the Trees the Trees their leaves still nourish That Place grave Winter finds â—ot without flourish If living Eyes Elysian fields could see This little Arden might Elysium be Oft did Diana there her selfe repose And Maâ—s the Acidaliaâ— Queen enclose The Nymphs oft here their baskets bring with Flow'rs And Anadems weave 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 Do grave their Loves Disdaines and Jealousies Which Phillis when there by Her Flocks she feedeth With Pitty now anon with laughter readeth Neare to this place when Sun in midst of Day In highest top of Heaven his Coach did stay And as advising on his Career glanced As all along that morne he had advanced His panting Steeds along those Fields of light Most princely looking from that glorious height When most the Grashoppers are heard in Meadows And loftiest Pines or small or have no shadows It was my hap O wofull hap to bide Where thickest shades me from all Raies did hide In a faire Arbor 't was some Sylvans Chamber Whose Seeling spred was with the Locks of Amber Of new bloom'd Sicamors Floore wrought with Flow'rs More sweet and rich than those in Princes Bow'rs Here Adon blush't and Clitia all amazed Lookt pale with Him who in the Fountaine gazed The Amaranthus smyl'd and that sweet Boy Which sometime was the God of Delos joy The brave Carnation speckled Pinke here shined The Uiolet her fainting Head declined Beneath a sleepy Chasbow all of Gold The Marigold her leaves did here unfold Now while that ravish'd with delight
art not Great Nor glorious By this Monument turne wise One it enshrineth sprung of ancient stemm And if that Bloud Nobility can make From which some Kings have not disdain'd to take Their proud Descent a rare and matchlesse Gemm A Beauty here it holds by full assurance Than which no blooming Rose was more refin'd Nor Mornings Blush more radiant ever shinâ—d Ah! too too like to Morne and Rose at last It holds her who in Wits ascendant far Did Yeares and Sex transcend To whom the Heaven More Vertue than to all this Age had given For Vertue Meteor turn'd when she a star Faire Mirth sweet Conversation Modesty And what those Kings of Numbers did conceive By Muses Nine and Graces moe than Three Lye clos'd within the Compasse of this Grave Thus Death all Earthly glories doth confound Loe how much Worth a little Dust doth bound FAr from these Bankes exiled be all Joyes Contentments Pleasures Musick cares reliefe Tears Sighs Plaints Horrours Frightments sad Annoies Invest these Mountaines fill all Hearts with Griefe Here Nightingals and Turtles vent your moanes Amphrisian Shepheard here come feed thy Flocke And read thy Hyacinth amidst our Groanes Plaine Eccho thy Narcissus from our Rocks Lost have our Meads their Beauty Hills their Gemms Our Brooks their Christall Groves their pleasant shade The fairest Flow'r of all our Anademms Death cropped hath the Lesbia chaste is dead Thus sigh'd the Tyne then shrunke beneath his Urne And Meads Brooks Rivers Hills about did mourne THe Flower of Virgins in her Prime of yeares By ruthlesse Destinies is ta'ne away And rap'd from Earth poore Earth before this Day Which ne're was rightly nam'd a Vale of Teares Beauty to Heaven is fled sweet Modesty No more appeares She whose harmonious sounds Did ravish Sense and charme Minds deepest wounds Embaulm'd with many a Teare now low doth lye Faire Hopes now vanish'd are She should have grac'd A Princes Marriage-Bed but loe in Heaven Blest Paramours to her were to be given She liv'd an Angell now is with them plac'd Vertue is but a Name abstractly trimm'd Interpreting what she was in effect A shaddow from her Frame which did reflect A Pourtrait by her Excellencies limm'd Thou whom free-will or chance hath hither brought And read'st Here lies a Branch of Maitlands stemm And Sâ—ytons Off-spring know that either Name Designes all worth yet reacht by humane Thought Tombes else-where use Life to their Guests to give These Ashes can fraile Monuments make live Another on the same subject LIke to the Gardens Eye the Flower of Flow'rs With purple Pompe that dazle doth the Sight Or as among the lesser Gems of Night The Usher of the Planet of the Houres Sweet Maid thou shinedst on this World of ours Of all Perfectiâ—ns having trac'd the hight Thine outward frame was faire faire inward Powers A Saphire Lanthorne and an incense light Hence the enamour'd Heaven as too too good On Earths all-thorny soyle long to abide Transplanted to their Fields so rare a Bud Where from thy Sun no cloud thee now can hide Earth moan'd her losse and wish'd she had the grace Not to have known or known thee longer space HArd Laws of mortall Life To which made Thrales we come without consent Like Tapers lighted to be early spent Our Griefes are alwaies rife When joyes but halting march and swiftly fly Like shadows in the Eye The shadow doth not yeeld unto the Sun But Joyes and Life do waste even when begun On the Death of a Nobleman in Scotland buried at Aithen AIthen thy Pearly Coronet let fall Clad in sad Robes upon thy Temples set The weeping Cypresse or the sable Jet Mourne this thy Nurslings losse a losse which all Apollos Quire bemoanes which many yeares Cannot repaire nor Influence of Spheares Ah! when shalt thou find Shepheard like to him Who made thy Bankes more famous by his worth Then all those Gems thy Rocks and Streams send forth His splendor others Glow-worm light did dim Sprung of an ancient and a vertuous Race He Vertue more than many did embrace He fram'd to mildnesse thy halfe-barbarous swaines The Good-mans Refuge of the bad the fright Unparaleld in friendship worlds Delight For Hospitality along thy Plaines Far-fam'd a Patron and a Patterne faire Of Piety the Muses chiefe repaire Most debonaire in Courtesie supreame Lov'd of the meane and honour'd by the Great Ne're dasht by Fortune nor cast down by Fate To present and to after Times a Theame Aithen thy Teares poure on this silent Grave And drop them in thy Alabaster cave And Niâ—bes Imagery become And when thou hast distilled here a Tombe Eâ—chace in it thy Pearls and let it beare Aithens best Gem and honour shrin'd lies here FAme Register of Time Write in thy Scrowle that I Of Wisdome Lover and sweet Poesie Was cropped in my Prime And ripe in worth though green in yeares did dye IUstice Truth Peace and Hospitality Friendship and Love being resolv'd to dye In these lewd Times have chosen here to have With just true pious their Grave Them cherish'd he so much so much did grace That they on Earth would choose none other Place WHen Death to deck his Trophees stop thy breath Rare Ornament and Glory of these Parts All with moist Eyes might say and ruthfull hearts That things immortall vassal'd were to Death What Good in Parts on many shar'd we see From Nature gracious Heaven or Fortune flow To make a Master-Piece of worth below Heaven Nature Fortune gave in grosse to Thee In Honour Bounty Rich in Valour Wit In Courtesie Borne of an ancient Race With Bayes in war with Olives crown'd in Peace Match'd great with Off-spring for great Actions fit No Rust of Times nor Change thy Vertue wan With Times to change when Truth Faith Love decay'd In this new Age like Fate thou fixed stay'd Of the first World an all-substantiall Man As earst this Kingdome given was to thy Syre The Prince his Daughter trusted to thy Care And well the credit of a Gem so rare Thy loyalty and merit did require Yeares cannot wrong thy Worth that now appeares By others set as Diamonds among Pearles A Queens deare Foster Father to three Earles Enough on Earth to triumph are o're yeares Life a Sea-voyage is Death is the Haven And fraught with honour there thou hast arriv'd Which Thousands seeking have on Rocks been driven That Good adornes thy Grave which with thee liv'd For a fraile Life which here thou didst enjoy Thou now a lasting hast â—reed of Annoy WIthin the Closure of thiâ— Narrow Grave Lye all those Graces a Good-wife could have But on this Marble they shall not be read For then the Living envy would the Dead THe Daughter of a King of Princely Parts In Beauty eminent in Vertues chiefe Loadstar of Love and Loadstone of all hearts Her Friends and Husbands only Joy now Griefe Is here pent up within a Marble Frame Whose Paralell no Times no Climates claime VErses fraile Records are to keep a Name Or raise from Dust Men to a Life of Fame The sport and spoyle of Ignorance but far More fraile the Frames of Touch and Marble are Which envy Avarice Time e're long confound Or mis-devotion equalls with the Ground Vertue alone doth last frees man from Death And though despis'd and scorned here beneath Stands grav'n in Angels Diamantine Roles And blazed in the Courts above the Poles Thou wast faire Vertues Temple they did dwell And live ador'd in thee nought did excell But what thou either didst possesse or love The Oraces Darling and the maids of Jove Courted by Fame for Bounties which the Heaven Gave thee in great which if in Parcels given Too many such we happy sure might call How happy then wast thou who enjoyedst them all A whiter Soule ne're body did invest And now sequestred cannot be but blest Inroâ—â—'d in Glory ' midst those Hierarchies Of that immortall People of the Skies Bright Saints and Angels there from cares made free Nought doth becloud thy soveraign Good from Thee Thou smil'st at Earths Confusions and Jars And how for Centaures Children we wage wars Like honey Flies whose rage whole swarmes consumes Till Dâ—st thrown on them makes them vaile their plumes Thy friends to thee a Monument would raise And â—imne thy Vertues but dull griefe thy Praise Breakes in the Entrance and our Taske proves vaine What duty writes that woe blotâ— out againe Yet Love a Pyramid of Sighs thee reares And doth embaulme thee with Fare-wells and Teares Rose THough Marble Porphyry and mourning Touch May praise these spoiles yet can they not too much For Beauty last and this Stone doth close Once Earths Delight Heavens care a purest Rose And Reader shouldst thou but let fall a Teare Upon it other flow'rs shall here appeare Sad Violets and Hyacinths which grow With markes of griefe a publike losse to show II. Relenting Eye which dâ—ignest to this Stone To lend a look behold here he laid one The Living and the Dead interr'd for Dead The Turtle in its Mate is and she fled From Earth her choos'd this Place of Griefe To bound Thoughts a small and sad Reliefe His is this Monument for hers no Art Could frame a Pyramide rais'd of his Heart III. Instead of Epitaphs and airy praise This Monument a Lady chaste did raise To her Lords living fame and after Death Her Body doth unto this Place bequeath To rest with his till Gods shrill Trumpet sound Though time her Life no time her loâ—â— could bound To Sir W. A. THough I have twice been at the Doores of Death And twice found shut those Gates which ever mourn This but a Lightning is Truce ta'ne to Breath For late borne sorrows augure fleet return Amidst thy sacred Cares and Courtly Toyles Alexis when thou shalt heare wandring Fame Tell Death hath triumph'd o're my mortall Spoyles And that on Earth I am but a sad Name If thou e're held me deare by all our Love By all that Blisse those Joyes Heaven here us gave I conjure thee and by the Maids of Jove To grave this short remembrance on my Grave Here Damon lies whose Songs did sometime grace The murmuring Esk may Roses shade the place FINIS