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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A29623 Songs and other poems by Alex. Brome ... Brome, Alexander, 1620-1666. 1664 (1664) Wing B4853; ESTC R4313 148,082 391

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to move Yet men more sensless you provoke to love I can't but think spite of the filth that 's hurl'd Over this small Ench'ridion of the World A day will break when we again may see Wits like themselves club in an Harmony Though Pulpiteers can't do it yet 't is fit Poets have more success because more wit Their Prose unhing'd the State why may'nt your verse Polish those souls that were fil'd rough by theirs Go on and prosper though I want your skill In weighty matters 't is enough to will And now the Reader looks I should help rear Your glories Trophy else what make I here 'T is not to praise you for one may as well Go tell Committees that there is an Hell Or tell the World there is a Sun as praise Your amorous fancy which it self can't raise 'Bove Envies reach or flatteries Ladies love To kiss those accents who dares disapprove What they stile good our lines our lives and all By their opinions either rise or fall Therefore the cause why these are fixed here Is livery-like to shew some great man's near Let them stand bare and usher not commend They are not for Encomiums but t' attend XLIX To his Friend Thomas Stanley Esq on his Odes Set and Published by Mr. John Gamble STanley the Darling of Apollo thou That mak'st at once both Verse and Musick too So sweet a Master of so sweet a Muse Whom not to name with honour were t' abuse How thy words flow How sweetly do they Chyme When thy pure Couplets do imbrace in Rhyme How quick how lovely and how full of Sence Thy Fancy is and all that springs from thence Which Gamble has enliv'ned by his Art And breath ' an Active Soul through every part And so deduc'd thy Mind to us that we May feast our Ears and Souls with rarity How much to Thee how much to Him we owe We can conceive but cannot make you know Nor have we thanks proportion'd to your worth Thou that didst make and He that set them forth In such a lively Dress too We admire What we cann't praise what we cann't do Desire And therefore turn our praises into prayers That Thou 'lt make more such Odes He more such Ayres I. On the famous Romance called The innocent Impostor 'T Will be expected now that I should raise Some Monument unto the Author's praise The Works or the Translators else I fear The Reader 'll wonder what I do make here 'T is grown Apocryphal and by the Wits Quite voted down Who hold it not befits A true-born Fancy to be Smith-field-wise Put off with Toll and Vouch●rs this defies Such Cru●ches for 't is of so clear a Nature 'T will pass without the Chaplains Imprimatur Or our Certificates Besides I carry Such a dislike to all things Customary I 'll cheat all expectation and will be Thankful to them but chiefly unto thee In these Self-ended times we only do Or thank or praise those we 're beholding to So call our Justice Charity and say We do bestow when we do only pay For though the work be rare yet should it be Still in its dress what had it been to me And though translated by this worthy pen If not exposed to the view of Men I had ne'r seen 't perhaps But since all three Have clubb'd in this production I must be Grateful to all and to give all your right Must praise and love and thank Bellay Dod Wright LI. On Dr. J. his divine Romant HOw rare how truly noble's this designe To make us fall in love with things Divine And raise our passions with such pious flames To court those truths which lay disguis'd in names Perplex'd and crabbed and did heretofore L●e undiscovered in their sullen Ore And seem'd unamiable to the sense ' Cause unattainable but by th' expence Of undelightsome labour and much time This new invention expiates the crime Which did too much adhere to youthful love Directs the soul to doat on things above And consecrates th' affections to extend Their violent motion to their proper end The ravish'd Puipit which of late was made A place not of instruction but of trade Where Higlers in Divinity did sell Salvation to us and made heaven and hell At their disposal and the way to bliss More hard and crabbed then it ought or is And did advance the people or condemn To this or that just as we humour'd them Made some those heavenly dishes to derest And loath ' cause they so nastily were drest But this ingenuous Author makes that food Delightsome to the taste as well as good And with such flowers the paths to virtue strews That the dull soul to heav'n delighted goes What love what praise what great reward is fit To his great worth who with C●lestial wit Informs and sanctifies our minds and brings Our souls above these low terrestrial things A crown of Stars must deck his learned brow The lawrel Garland's too unworthy now LII On the loss of a Garrison ANother City lost Alas poor King Still future griefs from former griefs do spring The World 's a seat of change Kingdoms and Kings Though glorious are but sublunary things Crosses and blessings kiss there 's none that be So happy but they meet with misery He that ere while sate centred to his Throne And all did homage unto him alone Who did the Scepter of his power display From pole to pole while all this rule obey From stair to stair now tumbles tumbles down And scarce one pillar doth support his Crown Town after Town are lost Field after Field This turns and that persidiously doth yield He 's banded on the trayterous tongues of those That Janus like look to him and his foes In vain are Bulwarks and the strongest Hold If the besiegers bullets are of gold My soul be not dejected wouldst thou be From present trouble or from danger free Trust not in rampires nor the strength of walls The town that stands to day to morrow falls Trust not in Souldiers though they seem so stout Where sin 's within vain is defence without Trust not in wealth for in this lawless time Where prey is penalty there wealth is crime Trust not in strength or courage we all see The weak'st oft-times do gain the victory Trust not in honour honour 's but a blast Quickly begun and but a while doth last They that to day to thee Hosanna cry To morrow change their note for Crucisie Trust not in friends for friends will soon deceive thee They are in nothing sure but sure to leave thee Trust not in wits who run from place to place Changing Religion as chance does her face In sp●te of cunning and their strength of brain They 're often catch'd and all their plots are vain Trust not in Councels Potentates or Kings All are but frail and transitory things Since neither Souldiers Casties wealth or wit Can keep off harm from thee or thee from it Since neither strength nor honour