Painters need for to display In Hieroglyphicks this mysterious day As Ancients represent Church secret features By Giants Sphinxes and such antick Creatures Some Monsters Epicene and Mascaline's grace With Taurus neck but Aries head and face Name but one single word in two sence tryes Christmas Bacon-Beef as Pudding-pies Or say we'ave Metaphors from nature's stocks A Capon this day noats and shrovetide Cocks T was mad conceits When our forefathers had Naught else but crums and voiders richly clad With painted daintes so that daies at last Were kalendred with Rubricks for a fast Alas we Sons of our great Adam's age Could banquet in a dish his heâ—tage Of Pulse and water such weak faire as that Would nere like Daniel make our English fat Our appetites on divine Saint-dayes seeks T' adore Egyptian-as sweet onions Leeks Of loavs the Scripture speaks we would twist Fishes to them as Quakers Lyden's grist Is good-meat Anti-Christ No! No such thing Dove's heads do never bear the Serpents sting Hear but it Preach a text flesh bread blood wine cheer Is a Theanthropos man-sprung divine Then welcome Christmas with thy wonted I 'd bring a ranting Carroll in March-beer And Sacrifice't to thy December-name By glasses sparkling with the Red-shrine flame Only I fear Sack-Hecatombs appease Not once those Manna-eating Deities I Paper want too for offence ' its meet One pennance should in compasse of a sheet St John BLaze forth great star Nor are we sad to see That fam'd Platonick Reminiscencie Brought to a truth thus Sol retires to feast From th' west'ran Climates in his spiâ—ie East When the new-morn brave Herauld in a ray Is th' Pevolution of an ancient day For gaudy lustres mantled Ruby-bright Were ne're Eclipsed by the pale-shrin'd night In Occidentall fates but would appear Superlative-endow'd ith'high-pol'd sphere When Mosesses do dye for th' bodies-stations Those Divells summons up hot disputations With the arch-Arch-Angels cause the spirits then Scorns to degenerate in Lapsed men And let the body fade 't is a divine Endowment must Immortall parts enshrine Eltah lost his mantle Camel's hair i th' skye not like those shaggy Commets are A Leather-girdle Capra-like Can't be As Taurus signes of man's eternity Souls throw their slip-cloaths off to holy state Earth's Winding-sheets are most impropriate For in the sacred volumes I learn this That Heavenly Angels do go nak'd in blisse Or grant his body walks It 's like the dead On one S. day fair shadows without head But can it be Was the great Lord of light Disvail'd from Morning to a Noon-day bright Ere this small beam had one sweet smiling spent In orient blazes from the Element I should have thought this day-star John did ride Rare Harbinger of that great Sun-shine's pride Enamelling all the Orbs before the ray Did in a full Meredian-Zenith sway John Prophecyed first Divinely born As pearly Sâ—ars foretell the Ruby morn He chants plain-song by a well Luted noat Breath'd Hallelujahs of a Cherub's throat And then Christs Chorus rare Harmonia Run sweet divisions on the sugred Lay. Fond Pagants now t' out last death 's fatal doom In vain erect Piramydalls of Rome The large Pantheon dayes are th' only blisse Where Genij live in Apotheosis A Letter SIr Seing my modesty has been dumb Necessity must speak and every word turn Orator nor need they wish as the foolish Roman in Caesar's Ampitheater to have your Eares the Auditors tyed to their lips since Oratory is more perswasive then when Pytho inspired the Grecian Comaedians on the pretty stages with Flexanimous Eloquence yet I will grant my Demosthenian Learning but lisping wit That my intreaties may be the more necessary Evacuated of supersluous Complements Pray therefore send me Doctor Brown's Vrn-Buriall as a courtesy I have promised and by your Courtesy you shall ever engage me Warly your servant The Answer SIR Had not your silent noats spoke the words had look'd for a Pyramid my breast to resound their Eccho as Virgill's Hylas was by all the Neighbouring Shoars but they survive as the Romans genij when their bodies are entombed in a dispute of Contra-Resurrection Strange that when the words salute the death bed of a grave the sence should walk and Pennance in a sheet of paper to expect their Vrn-buriall First Let the sense be dead as is the Letters and I will sing my Conclamatum est to them as you must Vale Vale To his Urn. WILLIAM SHIPTON SIR No wonder if my Noats be silent conferred with the boisterous inundations of your Stentorian words and are not as Nilus proud streams kept in the banks of order your breast you called a Pyramid and the Aegyptians lay up their Corn in Pyramids in my opinion you might better have called your belly the Pyramid which is the Receptacle of Corn minced into bread Your belly might the Ecchoes too rebound ' Cause emptinesse affords the greatest sound I thought your words had been asleep And so I will speak few charmes least they prove Contra-disputants of their Resurrection by confining them to a perpetuall Night Me-thinks the adulterous lines were more fit to do pennance in a sheet of paper and with my connivance been buried in the Vrn of oblivion And seeing I am weary of your clamorous words I must cry Conclamatum est or bury them with an Vltimum Vale in the fiery Urn of a Chimney J. W. The Answer HOw wishedly did you second my voyce and it were sin to say any mean noat plaid Basse on a troublesome string How wishedly did the Chorus of your fancy run divisions on my plain-song wit Your noats conferred sweetly without jarrs onely you sung Elegies and so drowned my sweet Hylas in Nilus his streams by a Seaburiall and take heed least you like i'ts Rivers bring forth impersect productions your brave lays will all be penned from a large-long to a Sembrief's-Semiquaver but I will take no more notice of them onely I should be aâ—t to quarrell at this word Boisterous but that it was fixt in the round Zodiack af your anger and charms confining things into a circle makes them burst forth into wind besides your humi-repens Muse was in the Low-Countries of wit and so might well with those Lap-land Inhabitants bag up air in the strong Caxvas-phrase of a sentence But stay methinks your Law playes the Ignoramus your Gospell acts for Erra-Patris Nilus writ for Hilas grosse Logick has no Reason if it be not Irrationallity to forget the Proprium of a man though here if I laugh I still keep my own denomination Your good decorum runs against tide while Nilus is the fit Hellespont for those Leanders your writings to swim I cannot think you were drunk with Nectar when you read that word because your Tapster-Muse forgot the barrel as to a spire unto the Eliment of water besides your rants had been Poeticall liberties and here you are restrained by the strict gaul-signification of this word in the Imprisoment of folly 't is true
of Physitians Circumrotated by a gyre just like the Aetherian fire moving in the Similitude of an Orb So that whosoever loves he is carried by a sphaericall motion which like the Egyptian Serpentine year Sua per vestigia Revolvitur Doth to such Circ'lar motions tend As it begins where it doth end And as it 's motion so it 's self is without end for who knowes not the last fate of a man to be his dyeing testament while his soule is exhaled into his dearest friend's bosom as a farewell Legacie the Romans I am sure were no lesse confident then superstitious in this custom when as they would catch the last breath of their dying lovers by laying mouth to mouth So that I think Pythagoras did rightly Phylosophize when he fell in Love with a Metempsuchosis and sacrificed to the birth-day of that Lady Transmigration his great brain had in conception whose desultory Soul divesting it's Painted slip-cloathes the body flew into some noble entertainment which the old Pagans in their foolish tenets baptized an Elizium before we take our vltimum vale from this sorrowfull Theater there is none happy whome love and Phylosophy doth not inspire or ravish the Soul into an amazement of extasies and therefore without it I conclude with the poët Dici beatum ante obitum Nemo None without Love can ever be Happy till death end miserie The one hales the admiring man into the astonishment of Contemplations The other sets the lovely soul into the great wonder of imbraces the the one carries you into the plesant Tempe of Heaven-sprung flowers whose dew watering those Rosy leaves is Nectar spilled from the Gallaxey at Ganymed's fall where you may feed the nice desires of a stoln glance or satisfie the curious smell with balmy incense of perfumed sweets And pâ—ay you tell me How can you deny the transcourse of soules when bodies are at a distance Have you not seen the Amorist's eye allwayes looking that way his Lady sits enshrined like a stately Diety If they joyn hands then the soul dines it's Appetite in figurative speeches by twisting of fingers if they sit together then the heart leapes up in exultation and Running forth with a whole Troop of thoughts as rustick fellows salutations are with a good blow knocks at the weak fort till it surrender Or what other Annotation is the Ruby-blush colouring one 's Sanguine face with a purple dye but the passionate soule which in its crimson-robes presently leaps into the Velvit cheeks as the Plush-index of a wounded heart See but how desirously the soul lurks into the Labyrinth of an ear catching the silent Complement in an Eloquent language and then answereing it again in a silent eccho see but how the soule ingulphes her self in the large theater of a glance and you will say it dies in continuall speculation for some say Love is blinde but Democritus put forth his eyes the better to live in contemplations Thus man himself shrinks his whole composure into the little vail of an eye and sometimes confines it in the little Cloy ster of an ear as we see some Animals content with the small function of one sence Listen Methinks I hear Aristophanes say it is the whole Sacrament of Love to reduce men to that Principle from which they were extraduced Thus by naturall progresse the Occidentall Sun returnes to his spicy East when as the new Morning is but a Revolution of the old day thus Rivers by their filiall gratitude ingulphe the vast Treasures of their pleasant streams at Neptunes acceptance to whom they are derivative But thou O Thales in water and thou O Empedocles in fire leaping made too much hast not only Phylosophy but the Philosopher himself was resolved into the principles and the vital particles of souls ingurgitated in their own Elements Thus the errours of Philosophyzing spirits excuse the errours of raging Lovers and while the Mentes famelicae were nourished of what they consist One would swear Bacchus his soul is made of a liquefied matter One would swear the Red soule of Tyrant Caligula is made of blood who wisht the world but one neck in which he might glut the hungry Appetite of his ravenous blade One would swear the muck-worm soul of a Country-fellow is made of dirt and his body to be the strong clay-walls and one would swear the barbarous souls of Stoicks rising from a hard quarelet of stones to be carved into the lovely statues of men Or what if we should feign with the Platonicks who durst not touch the chastity of a Woman that by the meer notion of mingling souls ut ex communi seminario Men do result in a strict Epithalamy of Nuptiall 't is a pleasant invention indeed that without putting their bodies to any brookage they have generation by kissing of hands and twisting of eye beams yet this perswades us that souls at the first approach run into imbraces like friends who not forgetting their once-acquaintance can entertain souls at a dreaming separation and meet in salutations before their bodies be in sight so now the Platonick takes his Metempsuchosis into memory for it is his Love and Philosophy Cui amare ac Philosophari est Reminisci For to Remember what 's a kisse Not to approv 't is all his blisse Yet to whom to love and to Phylosophize is all one it is to erect the lapsed estates of Angellick creatures with a perpetuall speculation of Heaven and as the birds of the Sun are fed only with it's Rayes it feasts them with a continued desire of eternity This is that I know not what candor makes mortalls in the aemulation of gods scan the high sphaere of divinty This is the eye whose splendors discover more new-found Treasures then e're Sol was able to view without tiring his swift-flown Steeds this makes us as circumscribed in no Parenthesis of age like a Posthumus being as spirits who injoy the vast Kingdoms of th'ubiqueous air without limitation Love thus doth all things knoweth all things yet in it's description I must write Encomiums on the Deo Ignoto as the Pagans scuplted it on their altars Some say Cupid is no reall being but a Chymaera Yet Plato degenerates from such Principles allows him something though 't is onely the desire of Pulchritude in a fair Lody and I make account too the attempt of an ill-favoured feature is not Love but lust How doth that Ignis fatuus bemire the Lilly soul in the dirty bogs of Quag-mire folly How doth that melancholly distemper like Don Quixots fight with Wind-mills of fancy and summons a man up to death as Brutus his Malus-Genius did him to Plutos Praetorium If thus rash Phaeton-lust as an intelligence move in the brain 's golden Chariet It will soon destroy the Micre-cosmman Each Amorist who adores this Lust as a white Swan will find the silly Goose Painted as Aesops Crow in the rich Attirement Peacock feathers Like the Devil sanctified in the bright Radience of condensed
Hierarchies Of Angels who in rapsodies of love Chants Hallelujahs to the Gods above Though we with the proud and ambitious flie Kisse the world's flames and so as Martyrs die The body as the Prophet's mantle fell In rageing Rivers which with billows swell By all transcendancy I dare avouch Thou scan'd Heaven in Elia's fiery Couch On the death of the most Heroick Lord SHEFFIELD AN ELEGY ANd why a tear in tune from Poëts Eyes Words holocausted up in Elegies Like to his Corps Embalm'd in perfum'd spice Were to strew flowers upon Paradise A Comment pleaseth to darke things annext But mysteries Reveales this unknown text Inteares we th' Red-sea passe but wit's Twilight Comes short of Canaan in it's Pisgah-sight Nor can the Cloud which us poor Isralites guides Part per-pale Rainbow clear'd be on both-sides Eye-beamed streames dissects yet we do try Ope-Superficies as Anatomy For those who Angels would imbrace thus they 're Gull'd with faire seemings of Condensed aire Nor is his nature lesse Man-sprung-divine Saints would do homage to 's immortall shrine Persians adore his eye Indy his Cherubs face Emparadiz'd with white Seraphick grace O for Old Plato that his eyes might see The Non-created wish made Entitie Hee 'd swell in Cups of Nectar for to seek Virtue Incarnate on that Heavenly cheek O for Pythagoras Ravished Soul to swear He 's metempsochos'd to a starry sphere Since he deserves the skie lamenting Rome We 'le grant th' Horizon but his proper Tombe Though we can't say therelyes great Sheffield's soul Enshrin'd i th' Pyramid of that high Pole Cause constellations from their orders be Roul'd by the Havens large Cosmographie Nimrod Orion swallows Comets are Oft shrunk Osyris lost in the Dog-star 'T will please to say his deified fate In Mars in Jove or Phoebus did translate Could Caesar dye said some or tell me can Any survive the voice fits God not man If they do live as Saints as men they talke Who e're did yet in Sempiternum walk The platonists are surs to die who were Unsure to have their great Platonick-year Great Aristotle spake as if he went A sorage 'bove the highest Element Methinks that Etelechia stamptâ—unknown His body was a little too-high flown The Roman-urns outlasts the men unborn As Pagans-evening were th' Antipod's morn Death 's but a sleep and bodies when they dye Divests the slip Cloathes of mortallity For t'h Soul's Eoan lustre's rarely kept When'ts from darke Lanthorn of the body crept And old Methusalem might much surpasse Times registers in monumentall-brasse He 's now Entomb'd and therefore let him lye Th' Immortall reliques of a Deity On his honored Friend Mr. ROBERT WILSON a Famed Musitian GReat Phoebus spent large rivalls every day T' inspire the muses with a well-sung Lay As if the way to banqu'rupt their controle Were to amaze then ravish the blind Soul Thus our Coy-maiden thoughts had in suspence Those sublime Raptures of 's inteligence Till he committed Rape by sweet desire Affected with that am'rous-courtier Lyre And like chaste Daphne to his high renown Our vestall minds becomes his flowry Crown T' was Phoebus large prerogative to men The fam'd Musitian he 's Apollo then What rare Eulogâ—â—ms did the Poëts paint Whose words now shallow are and Colours faint On Orpheus modulations Philters prov'd To make rude Satyrs like fair Nymphs belov'd With his harmonious straines as almost dye T' injoy the feature of this rarity Feature said I â—es They saw him sit Like the inspired Oracle of wit Those sensitive adorers thought indeed Some beautious Sybill hid i th' oaten reed But those were highflown fond Hyperbolies And Pearled praise of Diamond flatteries For all those attributes could never raise His glories to a Panygerick phrase What we do wonder call is but his due And types transparent to a better view Orph'us is but his Eccho we may give A note 'bove Ela's breath superlative To stile him Anti-Orph'us which word were Too narrow to extend that charracter Had we a riper Judgment to discry The cripled state of lame Tautology Melodius Daulia Histories do feigne Proud Ter'us did to Terquine's sport constrain It 's fiction so but that his winning Lay Sould ravish her i th' verdent fields of May Doth verifie the story since't holds good She breathes the high-wept harmony in flood As if condol'd the rape rejoyc't the gain Of honyed Ditties in a sugred strain For as by Metenpsuchosis his fate Did in this nice Platonick transmigrate She seems to tune her pleasant notes and sings As he brave Musick to th' harmnnious strings She aemulates those tones but being outvâ—'d Like Sapho's birds doth quote him deifi'd Aske not what Syrens are Here 's harmony Riddles Oedipean there opened lye And you will say these Sougsters all agree In th' high-breath'd notes of his Suaviloquie Sober Vlysses Envious at his Charmes Mercuriâ—an would impale in his joy'd armes Those dulcid concords arrogant to be A part'ner in th' inchanting Symphonie Aske not what Angels are or any choyce Of Superlun'ry Saints listâ—n to his voyce And you 'le conclude that dulciloquious lay Chants forth their holy Haleluiah Ask not how Cherubs their sweet aites distills From th' unheard Oracle of silent Quills Or spheres speaks Musick in the tong-ty'd mind But Wilson quote and then the word 's defin'd S â— Andrew HAile Rosy-morne from forth thy Lilly-bed Like milk-way Cream with rud strawberried Haile to those beautious features peaâ—â—'d i th' skye Like Nâ—ptun's brave Sea-daughtered Deity Is this sweet Plato's great admir'd return Chaste Phoenix rising from that Roman Vrne After Embalmed on that funerall Pyre Comes recreated to Prometh'an fire And here 's a Revolution Old age spent Tends to a youth-renewing Eliment While Pagan Gods but fond interment gets Dayes are the tombes out lasting Mahomets But stay a Comet in the skyes alone Is it this Genious resurrection Whose Torch Apolloes fiery beams displayes Disheveled in the flamy-bearded Rayes Or i' st the starr by Scripture-Miracles Which of some hidden mistick Manna tells Diviners let us know it soon wee 'l be Magi t' observe this rare divinity Or English Persians turn'd by holy state Adore this Heaven having candidate Speak Planitaries you who Nectar quaffe With Jove cannot a Methematick-staffe Reach the sublimest Hierarchies i' st him Cherub Angelâ— Saint or Seraphim Who mounts the Eastern Coursiers to out sâ—an Sol in his Climinant Maridian For were the Grecian Augurs Pliant here T' anatomize the surface of this Sphere They 'd say in yonder bright-disvailed Pole Inshrined lyes an Immateriall soul This holy Morn indeed lookt red espy'd A Blush of him appear'd as deifi'd Beame sdarting mildly in the smiling breasts S. Andrew sure in Sagitarius rests We might believe but Virgo farr-off shines I mean weet Mary in our Gospel-lines 'T was not in vaineâ—t his dawn of day to greet Th' unseen Saints our heard-discourse did meet For spirits though invisible they be Yet alwayes moves in an Vbiquity Suppose S. Andrew's soul a Rose