POEMS AND SONGS BY Thomas Flatman LONDON Printed by S. and B. G. for Benjamin Took at the Ship in St. Pauls Church-yard and Ionathan Edwin at the three Roses in Ludgate Street 1674. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE READER BY long Prescription time out of mind the next Leafe to the Title Page claims an EPISTLE to the READER I had the Project once in my own thoughts too But the Market is so ahominably forestall'd already with all manner of excuses for Printing that I could not possibly contrive one that would look any thing New And besides I never found amongst all the EPISTLES that I have read that the best Rethorick in 'em could perswade me to have a better opinion of the Books for Their sakes I am apt to believe the rest of Mankind much of my humour in this particular and therefore do here expose these few Results of my many Idle hours to the mercy of the wide VVorld quite guiltless of Address or Ceremony And that Reader who will not believe I had some tolerable Reason for This Publication cannot give me much disturbance because I 'me sure he is not at all acquainted with T. F. April 10 1674. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN on the publishing of his Poems I. I think thou art not well advis'd my Friend To bring thy spriteley Poems on the stage Now when the Muses Empire 's at an end And there 's none left that feel Poetic rage Now Cowley's dead the glory of the age And all the lesser singing birds are starv'd i th' cage II Nor was it well done to permit my Bush Ny Holly Bush to hang before thy Wine For friends Applauses are not worth a Rush And every fool can get a gilded signe In troth I have no faculty at praise My Bush is very full of thorns tho it seems Bays III. When I would praise I cannot find a Ryme But if I have a just pretence to rail They come in numerous throngs at any time Their Everlasting fountains never fail They come in troops and for employment pray If I have any wit it lyes only that way IV. But yet I 'le try if thou wilt rid thy mind Of thoughts of Rhyming and of writing well And Bend thy studies to another kind I mean in Craft and Riches to excel If thou desert thy friends and better wine And pay'st no more attendance on the needy Nine V. Go and renounce thy Wit and thy good parts Wit and good parts great Enemies to wealth And barter Honesty for more thriving Arts Prize Gold before a good name ease and health Answer the Dog and Bottle and maintain There 's great Ease in a yoak and freedome in a chain VI. I 'le love thee now when this is done I 'le try To sing thy praise and force my honest Muse to ly VVALTER POPE ON THE EXCELLENT POEMS OF MY Most VVorthy Friend Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN YOu happy Issue of a happy wit As ever yet in charming numbers writ Welcome into the Light and may we be Worthy so happy a Posterity Wee long have wish't for something excellent But ne're till now knew rightly what it meant For though wee have been gratifi'd 't is true From Several hands with things both fine and new The Wits must pardon me if I profess That 'till this time the over-teeming press Ne're set out Poesy in so true a dress Nor is it all to have a share of wit There must be judgment too to manage it For Fancy's like a rough but ready Horse Whose mouth is govern'd more by skil than force Wherein my Freind you do a maistry own If not particular to you alone Yet such at least as to all eyes declares Your Pegasus the best performes his Ayres Your Muse can humor all her subjects so That as we read we do both feel and know And the most firm impenetrable breast With the same passion that you writ's possest Your line are Rules which who shall well observe Shall even in their errors praise deserve The boyling youth whose blood is all on fire Push't on by Vanity and hot desire May learn such conduct here men may approve And not excuse but even applaud his love Ovid who made an ART of what to all Is in it selfe but too too natural Had he but read your verse might there have seen The stile of which his Precepts should have been And which it seemes he knew not learn't from thence To reconcile frailty with Innocence The Love you write Virgins and Boyes may read And never be debaucht but better bred For without love Beauty would bear no price And dulness than desire 's a greater vice Your greater subjects with such force are writ So full of sinewy strength as well as wit That when you are Religious our Divines May emulate but not reprove your lines And when you reason there the learned Crew May learn to speculate and speake from you You no prophane no obscene language use To smut yoâ—r paper or defile your Muse Your gayest things as well exprest as meant Are equally both Queint and Innocent But your Pindarick Odes indeed are such That Pindar's Lyre from his own skillful touch Ne're yeilded such an Harmony nor yet Verse keep such time on so unequal feet â—o by his own generous confession Great Tasso by Guarini was out done And which in Coppying seldome does befal The Ectype's better than th' Original But whilst your Fame I labour to send forth By the ill doing it I cloud your worth In something all mankind unhappy are And you as mortal too must have your share 'T is your misfortune to have found a freind Who hurts injures where he would commend But let this be your comfort that your Bayes Shall flourish green maâ—ger an ill couch't Praise CHARLES COTTON TO MY FRIEND Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN upon the publication of his POEMS I. AS when a Prince his Standard do's erect And calls his Subjects to the Feild From such as Early take his side And readily obedience yeild He is instructed where he may suspect And where he safely may confide So Mighty Friend That you may see A perfect Evidence of Loyalty No business I pretend My self I disengage From all the Incumbrances of humane life From nourishing the sinful peoples strife And all th'infirmities of age II. Domestique care the minds incurable disease That till the last Emperiment expects no ease Dependance to the only thing That next to God and his Annoynted here the â— King I will if possible forget My thoughts I will in order set My fast Allegiance I am bound to show And though I cannot quite dissolve the debt I must acknowledge what I ow. III. But what alas will our desire avail When active strength and vigour fail 'T is well thou hast more Potent Combatants than I That may protect thy Imortality If Envy that Attaqu'es the best of things And into Rigid question brings The most undoubted Registers of Fame If Envy shall assault thy
white spotless name Their whole Artillery let them dispence Their Peirceing wit and murd'ring Eloquence Noble conceit and Manly Sence Charming Numbers let then shine And dazle dead in every line The most malicious of thy Foes Though Hell it self should offer to oppose I thy decrepit Subject only can Resigne The little life of Art is left to Ransome thine If a Dart I may prevent Which at thy repute was meant Let them all direct at me By dying in this Holy War I possibly may share By accident in thy Infallible Eternity IV. But Mighty Friend Before it be too late Let us a while expostulate What Heat of Glory call'd thee on Thy learned Empire to extend Beyond the limits of thy Vast Dominion At home already thou wert crown'd with Baâ—es Why do'st thou forreign Trophies seek to raise Poets Arcana's have of Government And though the Homagers of thine owne Continent Out of a Sense of duty do submit Yet Printing Sir a jealous fear creates And shews a laid design Unto the Neighbouring Potentates Then into all thy secret Arts they pry And weigh each Circumstance of poliâ—y Offensive and Defensive Leagues they twine In Councells and Cabals they sit Industriously they all Combine Against the universal Monarchy of wit V. Hence then prepare for an Invasion Not from any European civiliz'd Nation They differ only circumstantially Concerning niceties in Poesy And all allow thy Art Order and Rules of Decency We all agree in principles nere was yet A perfect Beauty or unâ—erring Wit VI. Ah Freind I fear the Barbarous The Infidel unletter'd Crew â— mean That of no wit approve but what 's profane or els obscene These by far out number us And by Hostility possess The Worlds much greater part Like Mahumetans themselves they openly profess The Common Enemies of our Beleife and Art If these should an advantage take And on thy Glory depredation make You must submit to the Unhappiness The Vulgar measure Arts like Valour by success If the Battel be not won If the Author do not sell Into their dull capacities it will not Sink They cannot with deliberation think How bravely the Commander led them on Nor wherein the Books was written well When t is a thing impossible to do He cannot find his Army courage Sir nor you Your Readerâ—s Learning Wit and Iudgment too TO HIS ESTEEMED FRIEND Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN upon the publishing of his POEMS YOur Poems Freind come on the publick Stage In a Debauch'd and a Censorious Age Where nothing now is counted Standard Wit But what 's Prophane Obscene or 's Bad as it For our great Wits like Gallants of the Times And such they are Court only those Loose Rhimes Which like their Misses Patch't and Painted are But scorn what Vertuous is and truely Faire Such as your Muse is who with Careful Art For all but such hath wisely fram'd a Part. One while methinks Under some Gloomy Shade I see the Melancholly Lover Laid Pleasing himself in that his Pensive Fit With what you have on such Occasion writ Another while me thinks I seem to Hear 'Mongst those who sometimes will unbend their Care And steal themselves out from the busie Throng Your pleasant Songs in solemne Consort Sung Again me thinks I see the grave Divine Lay by his other Books to Look on thine And from thy serious and Divine Review See what our duty is and his own too Yet worthy Freind you can't but Guesse what doome Is like to pass on what you 've writ by some But there are others now your Book Comes forth Who I am Sure will prize it as 't is worth Who know it fully fraught with Staple ware Such as the works of the brave Cowly are And 'mongst our rarest English Poems Thine Next unto His immortally shall shine RIC. NEWCOURT TO MY WORTHY FRIEND Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN upon the publishing of his POEMS RUde and unpolisht as my lines can be I must start forth into the world with Thee That which yet Private did my wonder raise Now 't is made Publiqu ' challenge's my prayse Such Miracles thy Charming Verse can do Where ' ere it goes It draw's me with it too This is a kind of Birthday to thy Muse Transported with delight I cannot chuse But bid Her Welcome to the Light and tell How much I value what is writ so well Tho' Thou reap'st no advantage by my Rhime More than a Taper helps the Day to shine Thus in dull Pompe do's th' Empty Coach attend To pay respect to some departed freind The difference of Regard in this doe's ly That Honours Dust Mine That which cannot Dy For what can blast the labours of thy Pen While wit and vertue are allow'd by men Thou entertein'st the world with such a feast So cleanly and so elegantly dre'st So stor'd with laudable varieties As may a modest Appetite suffice Who ever is thy Guest is sure to find Something or other that may please his mind Sometimes in Pious Flame thy Muse aspireâ—s Her bosome warm'd with supernatural fires In noble flights with Pindar soar's above Dallie's sometime with not-indecent Love Thence down into the Grave doe's humbly creep And renders Death desirable as Sleep The Debuonair the Melancholy Heer Find matter for their mirth ease for their Care Easie thy Verse Clean thy Conceptions are Neither too proud Nor too familiar Since such Provision's made for all that come He must be squeamish that goe's Empty home If These Refections cannot do him good 'T is 'cause his stomack 's Vitious not the Food FRANCIS KNOLLYS TO MY DEAR FRIEND Mr. THOMAS FLATMAN upon the publication of his POEMS PINDARIQVE ODE I. WIthin the haunted thicket where The feather'd Châ—risters are met to play And celebrate with voices clear And accent sweets the praise of May The Ouzel Thrush and speckled Lark And Philomel that loves the dawn and dark These the inspired throng In numbers smooth and strong Adorn their noble Theme with an immortal Song While woods and vaults the brook and neighbouring hill Repeat the varied close and the melodious Trill II. Here feast your ears but let your eye Wander and see one of the lesser frie Under a leaf or on a danceing twig Ruffle his painted feathers and look big Pirk up his tayle and hop between The boughs by moving only to be seen Perhaps his troubled breast he prunes As he doth meditate on his tunes At last compos'd his little head he rears Towards what he strives to imitate the Sphears And chirping then begins his best Falls on to Pipe among the rest Deeming that all 's not worth a rush Without his whistle from the bush III. Th' harmonious sound did reach my ear That eccho'd Thy clear name Which all must know who e're did hear Of Cowley or Orinda's fame I heard the Genius with surprizing grace Would visit us with his fair off spring gay As is the morning Spring in May But fairer much and of immortal race IV. Delighted greatly as
I listning stood The sound came from each corner of the wood It both the shrubs and Cedars shak't And my drowsy Muse awak't Strange that the sound should be so shrill That had its passage through a Quil Then I resolv'd Thy praises to rehearse The wonders of Thy Pen among the Croud Of thy learn'd Freinds that sing so loud But 't was not to be sung or reacht in verse For all that Lying Greece and Latium too Have told us of Thou only Thou mak'st true And all the Miracles which they could show Remain no longer Faith but Science now Thou dost those things that noman else durst do Thou Paint'st the lightning and the Thunder too The Soul and Voice Thou 'lt make Turks Iews with Romanist consent To Break the Second great Commandements And them perswade an Adoration givâ—n In Picture will as Grateful be to Heav'n As one in Metre Th' Art is in Excess But yet thy ingenuity makes it less With Pen and Pencil thou dost all out shine In Speaking Picture Poesy Divine Poets Creators are You make us Know Those are Above and Dread those are Below But 't is no Wonder you such things can Dare That Painter Poet and A Propheâ— are The Starrs themselves think it no Scorn to be Plac'd and Directed in their Way by Thee Thou Knowst their Virtue and thâ—ir Scituation The Faâ—e of Yeaâ—s and every great Mutation With the same Kindness let them look on Earth As when they gave thee first thy Happy Birth The sober Saturne Aspects Cinthia bright Resigning Hers to give us thy New Light The Gentle Venus Rose with Mercury Presage of Softness in thy Poesy And Iove and Mars in Amicable Trine Do still give Spirit to thy Polish'd Line Thou mayst do what thou wilt without controul Onely thy self and Heav'n can Paint thy Soul FRANC. BERNARD THE CONTENTS TO the memory of the incomparable Orinda Pindarique Ode Page 1 The Review to Dr. W. S. Pindarique Ode 7 To my worthy friend Mr. Sam. Woodford on his excellent version of the Psalmes Pindarique Ode 18 On the Death of the truly valiant George Duke of Albemarle Pindarique Ode 2â— The Retirement Pindarique Ode made in the time of the great sickness 1665. 31 Translated out of a Part of Petronious Arbiter's Satyricon 35 A Thought of Death 41 The Desperate Lover 42 Psalme 39 verses 4. th and 5. th 45 The Fatigue a Song 46 Hymne for the Morning 47 Anthem for the Evening 48 Death a Song 49 The Happy Man 50 An Elegy on the Earl of Sandwich 52 An Epitaph on the Earl of Sandwich 53 On Mr. Johnson's several shipwracks 54 The Resolve 56 Pastoral 58 Love's Bravo Song 62 The Batchelor's Song 63 The Batchelor's Song Second part 64 Advice to an old man of 63 about to Marry a Girl of 16. Song 65 The Expectation Song 66 Coridon converted Song 67 The Humourist Song 69 The Slight Song 70 The Penitent Song 71 The Defiance Song 72 The Surrender Song 74 Fâ—deing Beauty Song 75 The Whim Song 76 A Dialogue Cloris and Parthenissa 77 The Renegado Song 79 Phillis withdrawn 80 Weeping at parting Song 82 the Malecontent Song 84 The Indifferent Song 85 The Harbour Song 86 The Vnconcerned Song 87 To Mr. Sam. Austin of Wadham Col. Oxon on his most unintelligible Poems 88 To my Ingenious Friend Mr. William Faithorn on his Book of Drawing Etching and Graving 90 An Explanation of an Emblem engraven by U. H. 92 For Thoughts 93 Against Thoughts 98 Doomes-day Thought 103 Virtus Sola manet caetera Mortis erunt 107 Translated 109 The Immovable 111 The Wish 113 The Cordiall made in the year 1657. 115 Celadon on Delia singing 117 A Character of a Belly God Catius Horace 118 The Advice 127 Psalme the 15 paraphrased 128 Iob. 132 A Dialogue Orpheus and Euridice â—33 Nudus Redibo 135 On the Commentaries of Messire Blaire de Montluc To the worthy Translator Charles Cotton Esque 136 The Disappointment Pindarique Ode 138 POEMS To the memory of the incomparable ORINDA Pindarique Ode Stanza I. A Long Adieu to all that 's bright Noble or brave in woman-kind To all the wonders of their wit And Trophies of their mind The glowing heat of th' holy fire is gone To th' Altar whence 't was kindled flown There 's nought on earth but ashes left behind E'r since the amazing sound was spread Orinda's dead Every soft and fragrant word All that language could afford Every high and loâ—ty thing That 's wont to set the Soul on wing No longer with this worthless world would stay Thus when the death of the great Pan was told A long the shore the dismal tidings rol'd The lesser Gods their Fanes forsook Confounded with the mighty stroke They could not over live that fatal day But sigh'd groan'd their gasping Oracles away II. How rigid are the Laws of Fate And how severe that black decree No sublunary thing is free But all must enter th' Adamantine Gate Sooner or later must we come To Natures dark retiring Room And yet 't is pity Is it not The Learned as the Fool should die One full as low as t'other high Together blended in the general lot Distinguish't only from the common Croud By an hing'd Coffin or a Holland Shroâ—d Tho Fame and Honour speak them ne'r so loud Alas Orinda even Thou Whose happy Verse made others live And certain Immortality could give Blasted are all thy blooming glories now The Laurel withers o're the brow Methinks it should disturb Thee to conceive That when poor I this artless breath resign My dust should have as much of Poetry as thine III. Too soon we languish with desire Of what we never could eâ—ough adâ—ire On th'billows of this world sometimes we rise So dangerously high We are to Heaven too nigh When all in rage Grown hoary with one minute's age The very self-same fickle wave Which the entrancing Prospect gave Swoln to a Mountain sinks into a Grave Too happy Mortals if the powers above As merciful would be And easie to preserve the thing we love As in the giving they are free But they too oft delude our wearied eyes They fix a flaming sword 'twixt us and Paradise A weeping evening blur's a smiling day Yet why shoâ—ld heads of gold have feet of Clay Why should the man that wav'd th' Almighty wand That led the murmuring Croud By Pillar and by Cloud â—hivering a top of Aâ—ry Pisgab stand Only to see but never never tread the Promis'd Land IV. Throw your swords and gantlets by You daring Sons of War You cannot purchase e're you die One honourable scar Since that fair hand that guilded all your Bayse That in Heroick numbers wrote your praise That you might safely sleep in Honours bed It self alas is wither'd cold and dead Cold and dead are all those charmes That burnisht your victorious arms Those useless things hereafter must Blush first in blood and then in rust No oil but that of her smooth words can serve
Delphick ambiguity We are misguided in the dark and thus Each Star becomes an Ignis fatuus Yet pardon me you glorious lamps of light 'T was one of you that led the way Dispell'd the gloomy night Became a Phosper to th' Eternal Day And shew'd the Magi where th' Almighty Infant lay IX At length the doubtful Victory 's won It was a cunning ambuscade The world for my â—â—licities had laid Yet now at length the day 's our own Now Conqueror like let us new Laws set down Henceforth let all our Love Seraphick turn The sprightly and the vigorons flame On th' Altar let it ever burn And sacrifice it's ancient name A Tablet on my heart next I 'le prepare Where I would draw the holy Sepulchre Behind it a soft Landskip I would lay Of Melancholly Golgotha On th' Altar let me all my spoils lay down And if I had One there I 'de hang my Laurel Crown Give me the Paâ—â—lects of the Law divine Such was the Law made Moses face to shine Thus beyond Saturns heavy Orb I 'le towâ— And laugh at his malicious power Raptur'd in Contemplation thus I 'le go Above unactive Earth and leave the Stars below X. Tost on the wings of every wind After these hoverings too and fro And still the waters higher grow Not knowing where a resting place to find Whether for Sanctuary should I go But Reverend Friend to you You that have triumpht o're th' impetuous flood That Noah like in bad times durst be good And the stiffe Torrent manfully withstood Can save me too One that have long in fear of drowning bin Surrounded by the rolling waves of sin Do You but reach out a propitious hand And charitably take me in I will not yet despair to see dry land 'T is done I and no longer fluctuate I 've made the Church my Ark and Sions Hill my Ararat To my worthy Friend Mr. Sam. Woodford on his excâ—llent Version of the Psalms Pindarique Ode Stanza I. SEe worthy friend what I would do Whom neither Muse nor art inspire That have no friend in all the sacred Quire To shew my kindness for your Book and you Forc'd to disparage what I would admire Bold man that dare's attempt Pindariqu ' now Since the great Pindar's greatest son From the ingrateful Age is gone Cowley ha's bid th' ingrateful Age adieu Apollo's rare Columbus he Found out new worlds of Pocsie He like an Eagle â—oar'd aloâ—t To seize his noble prey Yet as a Dove 's his soul was soft Quiet as night but bright as Day To heaven in a fiery charriot He Ascended by Seraphiqu Poëtrie Yet which of us dull Mortals since can find Any inspiring Mantle that He left behinde II. His powerful Numbers might have done you right He could have spar'd you immortalitie Under that Cheiftaine's banners you might fight Assur'd of Laurels and of Victorie Over devouring time and sword and fire And Iove's important ire My humble verse would better sing David the shepheard than the King And yet methinks 't is stately to be one Tho' of the meaner sort Of them that may approach a Princes Throne If'twere but to be seen at Court Such Sir is my ambition for a name Which I shall rather take from you than give For in your Book I cannot miss of Fame But by contact shall live Thus on your Chariot Wheel shall I Ride safe and look as big as Aesops Fly Who from th' Olympian race new come And now triumphantly flown home To 's neighbours of the swarm thus proudly said Don't you remember what a dust I made III. Where e're the Son of Iesse's harp shall sound Or Israel's sweetest Songs be sung Like Sampson's Lion sweet and strong You and your happy Muse shall be renown'd To whose kind hand the Son of Iesse owes His last deliverance from all his Foes Bloud-thirsty Saul less barbarous than they His person only sought to kill These did his deathless Poëms stay And sought immortal blood to spill To sing whose Songs in Babylon would be A new Captivity Deposed by these Rebels you alone Restore the glorious David to his Throne Long in disguise the Royal Prophet lay Long from his own thoughts banished Ne're since his death 'till this illustrious day Was Scepter in his haad or Crown plac't on his head He seem'd as if at Gath he still had bin As once before proud Achish he appear'd His Face besmear'd With spittle on his sacred beard A laughing stock to the insulting Philistine Drest in their Rhimes he lookt as he were mad In Tyssue you and Tyrian Purple have him clad On the Death of the truely valiant Geoge Duke oâ— Albemarle Pindarique Ode Stanza I. NOw blush thy selfe into confusion Ridiculous mortality With indignation to be trampled on By them that court Eternity Whose generous deeds and prosperous state Seem poorly set within the reach of fate Whos 's every Trophy and each Laurel wreath Depends upon a little breath Confin'd within the narrow bounds of time And of incertain age With doubtful hazards they engage Thrown down while victory bids them higher climb Their glories are ecclips'd by death Hard circumstances of illustrous men Whom nature like the Scythian Prince detaine's Within the Bodies chaines Nature that rigorous Tamberlaine Stout Bajazet disdain'd the barbarous rage Of that insulting Conquerour Bravely himself usurp't his own expiring power By dashing out his braines against his Iron Cage II. But 't is indecent to complain And wretched mortalls curse their stars in vain In vain they wast their tears for them that die Themselves involv'd in the same destiny No more with sorrow let it then be said The glorious Albemarle is dead Letâ— what is said of Him triumphant be Words as gay as is His fame And as manly as his name Words as ample as his praise And as verdant as his bayes An Epinicion not an Elegy Yet why should'st thou ambitious Muse believe Thy gloomy Verse can any splendors give Or make him one small moment longer live Nothing but what is vulgar thou canst say Or misbecoming numbers sing What Tribute to his memory canst thou pay Whose vertue sav'd a Crown and could oblige a King III. Many a year distressed Albion lay By her unnatural Off-spring torne Once the Worlds terrour then its scorn At home a Prison and a broad a Prey Her valiant Youth her valiant Youth did kill And mutual blood did spill Usurpers then and many a Mushroom Peer Within her Palaces did domineer There did the Vulture build his Nest There the Owles and Satyrs rest By Zim and Ohim all possest 'Till England's Angel Guardian Thou With pity and with anger mov'd For Albion thy belov'd Olive Chapplets on thy brow With bloudless hands upheld'st her drooping head And with thy Trumpets call'dst her from the dead Bright Phosper to the rising Sun That Royal Lamp by Thee did first appear Usher'd into our happy Hemisphaere O may it still shine bright and clear No Cloud nor Night approach it
I Can th' Holy Land through these my Opticks spie VII Contemn we then The peevish rage of men Whose violence ne'r can divorce Our mutual amitie Or lay so damn'd a Curse As non addresses 'twixt my thoughts and me For though I sigh in Irons They Use their old freedome readily obey And when my bosome-friends desert me stay VIII Come then my darlings I 'le embrace My Priviledge make known The high prerogative I own By making all allurements give you place Whose sweet society to mee A sanctuary and a sheild shall be ' Gain'st the full Quivers of my Destinie Against Thoughts I. INtolerable Racks Distend my Soul no more Loud as the billows when they roar More dreadful than the hideous thunder cracks Foes inappeasable that slay My best contents around me stand Each like a Fury with a Torch in hand Anâ— fright me from the hopes of one good day II. When I seclude my self and say How frolick will I be Unfetter'd from my Company I 'le bath me in felicity In come these Guests They Harpy like defile my Feasts Oh the damn'd Dialogues the cursed talk 'Twixt us my thoughts along a sullen walk III. You like the poisonous wine The Gallants quaff To make 'em laugh Yet chance at last t' endure From thence the tortures of a Calenture Fool me with feign'd reflections till I lie Stark raveing in a Bedlam extasie IV. Do I dread The Starry Throne and Majesty Of that High God Who batters Kingdomes with an Iron Rod And makes the Mountains stagger with a nâ—d That sits upon the glorious Bow Smiling at changes here below These goâ—d me to his grand Tribunal where They tell me I with horror must appear And antedate amazements by grim fear V. Would I descry Those happy Soul 's blest Mansions 'bove the Sky Invisible by mortal ey And in a noble speculation trace A journey to that shining place Can I afford a sigh or two Or breath a Wish that I might thither go Thâ—se clip my plumes and chill my blazing Love That O I cannot cannot soar above VI. The Fire that shines In Subterranean mines The Chrystal'd streams The â—ulphur rocks that glow upon The torrid banks of Phlegeton Those â—ooty fiends which nature keeps Bolted and Barred up in the deeps Black caves wide Chasmas which who see confess Types of the Pit so deep so bottomless These mysteries though I fain would not behoâ—d you to my view unfold Like an adjudg'd offender to the high Tarpeian Hill you force me up that I May so be hurried headly down and Die VII Mention not then The streng'th and faculties of men Whose arts cannot expell These anguishes this bosome-Hell When down my aking head I lay In hopes to slumber them away Perchance I do beguile Their tyranny a while One or two minutes then they throng again And reassault me with a trebled pain Nay though I sob in fetters they Spare me not then perplex me each sad day And whom a very Turk would pity slay VIII Hence Hence my Jaylors Thoughts be gone Let my Tranquilities alone Shall I embrace A Crocodile or place My choice affections on the fatal Dart That stabs me to the heart I hate your curst proximity Worse than the venom'd arrows heads that be Cramm'd in the quivers of my Destiny A Dooms-day Thought A â— 1659. JVdgment two syllables can make The haughtiest Son of Adam shake 'T is coming and 't will surely come The dawning to that Day of Doom O th' morning blush of that dread day When Heav'n and Earth shall steal away Shall in their Pristine Chaos hide Rather than th' angry Judge abide 'T is not far off methinks I see Among the Stars some dimmer be Some tremble as their Lamps did fear A Neighbouring Extinguisher The greater Luminaries fail Their Glories by Eclipses vail Knowing e're long their borrow'd Light Must sink in th' Universal Night When I behold a Mist arise Strait to the same astonish't Eies Th' ascending Clouds do's represent A scene of th' smoking Firmament Oft when I hear a blustring Winde With a tempestuous murmur joyn'd I phancy Nature in this blast Practice's how to breath her Last Or sigh's for poor Man's misery Or pant's for fair Eternity Go to the dull Church-yard and see Those Hillocks of Mortalitie Where proudest Man is one'ly found By a small swelling in the Ground What crouds of Carcasses are made Slave to the pickax and the spade Digg but a foot or two to make A Cold Bed for thy dead friends sake 'T is odds but in that scantling roome Thou robb'st another of his Tombe Or in thy delving smit'st upon A shinbone or a Cranion When th' Prison's full what next can be But the grand Jayl Deliverie The great Assise when the pale Clay Shall gape and render up it's Prey When from the dungeon of the Grave The meager Throng themselves shall heave Shake off their linnen chaines and gaze With wonder when the world shall blaze Then climbe the mountaines scale the rocks Force op'e the Deep 's Eternal locks Beseech the Cliffs to lend an eare Obdurate they and will not heare What ne're a cavern ne're a Grot To cover from the common Lot No quite forgotten Hold to ly Obscur'd and pass the reck'ning by No Ther 's a quick all piercing Ey Can through the Earth's dark Center pry Search into th' bowels of the Sea And comprehend Eternity What shall we do then when the voice Of the shrill Trump with strong fierce noise Shall pierce our ears and summon all To th' Universe wide Judgment-Hall What shall we do we cannot hide Nor yet that scrutiny abide When enlarg'd Conscience loudly speaks And all our bosom-secrets breaks When flames surround and greedy Hell Gapes for a Booty who can dwell With everlasting Burnings when Irrevocable words shall pass on Men Poor naked Men who sometimes thought These frights perhaps would come to nought What shall we do we cannot run For Refuge or the strict Judge shun 'T is too late then to think what course to take While we live here we must Provision make Virtus solamanet caetera mortis erunt I. NUnquam sitivi quae vehit aureo Pactolus alveo flumina quo magis Potatur Hermus tanto avarae Mentis Hydrops sitibundus ardet II. â—rustrà caduci carceris incola Molirer Arces quilibet angulus Sat ossa post manes reponet Exiguum satis est Sepulchrum III. Nil stemma penso nil titulos moroâ— Cerásve aviti sanguinis indices Sunt ista fatorum inque Lethâ—s Naufragium paticntur undis IV. Ergo iâ— quieto pectoris ambitu Quid Mens anhelas fulgura gloriae Laudésque inanes loquacem Quae populi sedet ore famam V. Letho superstes gloria somâ—ii Dulcedo vana est fama malignior Nil taâ—git umbras nec feretrum Ingreditur Popularis Aura VI. Mansura sector sola sed invidi Expers Sepulchri sydera trajicit Spernénsque fatorum tumultus Pellit humum generosa