lasts to eternity When each of you shall in your nest Among your young ones take your rest In chirping language oft them tell You had a Dam that lov'd you well That did what could be done for young And nurst you up till you were strong And 'fore she once would let you fly She shew'd you joy and misery Taught what was good and what was ill What would save life and what would kill Thus gone amongst you I may live And dead yet speak and counsel give Farewel my birds farewel adieu I happy am if well with you A. B. In memory of my dear grand-child Elizabeth Bradstreet who deceased August 1605. being a year and half old FArewel dear babe my hearts too much content Farewel sweet babe the pleasure of mine eye Farewel fair flower that for a space was lent Then ta'en away unto Eternity Blest babe why should I once bewail thy fate Or sigh the dayes so soon were terminate Sith thou art setled in an Everlasting state 2. By nature Trees do rot when they are grown And Plumbs and Apples throughly ripe do fall And Corn and grass are in their season mown And time brings down what is both strong and tall But plants new set to be eradicate And buds new blown to have so short a date Is by his hand alone that guides nature and fate In memory of my dear grand child Anne Bradstreet Who deceased June 20. 1669. being three years and seven Moneths old WIth troubled heart trembling hand I write The Heavens have chang'd to sorrow my delight How oft with disappointment have I met When I on fading things my hopes have set Experience might 'fore this have made me wise To value things according to their price Was ever stable joy yet found below Or perfect bliss without mixture of woe I knew she was but as a withering flour That 's here to day perhaps gone in an hour Like as a bubble or the brittle glass Or like a shadow turning as it was More fool then I to look on that was lent As if mine own when thus impermanent Farewel dear child thou neâ—re shall come to me But yet a while and I shall go to thee Mean time my throbbing heart 's chear'd up with this Thou with thy Saviour art in endless bliss On my dear Grand-child Simon Bradstreet Who dyed on 16. Novemb. 1669. being but a moneth and one day old No sooner come but gone and fal'n asleep Acquaintance short yet parting caus'd us weep Three flours two scarcely blown the last i' th' bud Cropt by th' Almighties hand yet is he good With dreadful awe before him let 's be mute Such was his will but why let 's not dispute With humble hearts and mouths put in the dust Let 's say he 's meâ—ciful as well as just He will return and make up all our losses And smile again after our bitter crosses Go pretty babe go rest with Sisters twain Among the blest in endless joyes remain A. B. To the memory of my dear Daughter in Law Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet who deceased Sept. 6. 1669. in the 28. year of her Age. And live I still to see Relations gone And yet survive to sound this wailing tone Ah woe is me to write thy Funeral Song Who might in reason yet have lived long I saw the branches lopt the Tree now fall I stood so nigh it crusht me down withal My bruised heart lies sobbing at the Root That thou dear Son hath lost both Tree and fruit Thou then on Seas failing to forreign Coast Was ignorant what riches thou hadst lost But ah too soon those heavy tydings fly To strike thee with amazing misery Oh how I simpathize with thy sad heart And in thy griefs still bear a second part I lost a daughter dear but thou a wife Who lov'd thee more it seem'd then her own life Thou being gone she longer could not be Because her Soul she 'd sent along with thee One week she only past in pain and woe And then her sorrows all at once did go A Babe she left before she soar'd above The fifth and last pledg of her dying love E're nature would it hither did arrive No wonder it no longer did survive So with her Children four she 's now at rest All â—reed from grief I trust among the blest She one hath left a joy to thee and me The Heavens vouchsafe she may so ever be Chear up dear Son thy fainting bleeding heart In him alone that caused all this smart What though thy strokes full sad grievous be He knows it is the best for thee and me A. B. A Funeral Elogy Vpon that Pattern and Patron of Virtue the truely pious peerless matchless Gentlewoman Mrs. Anne Bradstreet right Panaretes Mirror of Her Age Glory of her 〈◊〉 whose Heaven-born-Soul leaving its earthly Shrine chose its native home and was taken to its Rest upon 16th Sept. 1672. ASk not why hearts turn Magazines of passions And why that grief is clad in sev'ral fashions Why She on progress goes and doth not borrow The smallest respite from th'extreams of sorrow Her misery is got to such an height As makes the earth groan to support its weight Such storms of woe so strongly have beset her She hath no place for worse nor hope for better Her comfort is if any for her be That none can shew more cause of grief then she Ask not why some in mournfull black are clad The Sun is set there needs must be a shade Ask not why every face a sadness shrowdes The setting Sun ore-cast us hath with Clouds Ask not why the great glory of the Skye That gilâ—s the starrs with heavenly Alchamy Which all the world doth lighten with his rayes The Perslan God the Monarch of the dayes Ask not the reason of his exâ—asie Paleness of late in midnoon Majesty Why that the palefac'd Empress of the night Disrob'd her brother of his glorious light Did not the language of the starrs foretel A mournfull Scâ—ne when they with tears did swell Did not the glorious people of the Skye Seem sensible of future misery Did not the lowring heavens seem to express The worlds great lose and their unhappiness Behold how tears â—ow from the learned hill How the bereaved Nine do daily fill The bosome of the fleeting Air with groans And wofull Accents which witness their moanes How doe the Goddesses of verse the learned quire Lament their rival Quiâ—l which all admire Could Maro's Muse but hear her lively strain He would condemn his works to fire again Methinks I hear the Patron of the Spring The unshorn Diety abruptly sing Some doe for anguish weep for anger I That Ignorance should live and Art should die Black fatal dismal inauspicious day Unblest for ever by Sol's precious Ray Be it the first of Miseries to all Or last of Life defam'd for Funeral When this day yearly comes let every one Cast in their urne the black and dismal stone Succeeding years as they their circuit goe Leap o're this day as a sad time of woe Farewell my Muse since thou hast left thy shrine I am unblest in one but blest in nine Fair Thespian Ladyes light your torches all Attend your glory to its Funeral To court her ashes with a learned tear A briny sacrifice let not a smile appear Grave Matron whoso seeks to blazon thee Needs not make use of witts false Heraldry Whoso should give thee all thy worth would swell So high as 't would turn the world infidel Had he great Maro's Muse or Tully's tongue Or raping numbers like the Thracian Song In crowning of her merits he would be sumptuously poor low in Hyperbole To write is easie but to write on thee Truth would be thought to forfeit modesty He 'l seem a Poet that shall speak but true Hyperbole's in others are thy due Like a most servile flatterer he will show Though he write truth and make the subject You. Virtue ne're dies time will a Poet â—aise Born under better Starrs shall sing thy praise Praise her who list yet he shal be a debtor For Art ne're seign'd nor Nature fram'd a better Her virtues were so great that they do raise A work to trouble fame astonish praise When as her Name doth but salute the ear Men think that they perfections abstract hear Her breast was a brave Pallace a Broad-street Where all heroick ample thoughts did meet Where nature such a Tenement had tane That others souls to hers dwelt in a lane Beneath her feet pale envy bites her chain And poison Malice whetts her sting in vain Let every Laurel every Myrtel bough Be stript for leaves t' adorn and load â—er brow Victorious wreathes which ' cause they never fade Wise elder times for Kings and Poets made Let not her happy memory e're lack Its worth in Fames eternal Almanack Which none shall read but straight their loss deplore And blame their Fates they were not born before Do not old men rejoyce their â—ates did last And infants too that theirs did make such hast In such a welcome time to bring them forth That they might be a witness to her worth Who undertakes this subject to commend Shall nothing find to hard as how to end Finis non John Norton Omnia Romanae sileant Miracula Gentis
own My reason then bad judge how little hope My empty seed should yield a better crop Then with both hands I graspt the world together Thus out of one extream into another But yet laid hold on virtue seemingly Who climbs without hold climbs dangerously Be my condition mean I then take pains My Family to keep but not for gains A Father I for children must provide But if none then for kindred near ally'd If rich I 'm urgâ—d then to gather more To bear a port i' th' world and feed the poor If noble then mine honour â—o maintain If not riches nobility can gain For time for place likewise for each Relation I wanted not my ready allegation Yet all my powers for self ends are not spent For hundreds bless me for my bounty lent Whose backs I 've cloth'd and bellyes I have feâ— With mine own fleecâ— with my houshold bread Yea justice have I done was I in place To chear the good and wicked to deface The proud I crush't th' oppressed I set free The lyars curb'd but nourisht verity Was I a Pastor I my Flock did feed And gently lead the Lambs as they had need A Captain I with Skill I train'd my Band And shew'd them how in faâ—e of Foes to stand A Souldier I with speed I did obey As readily as could my leader say Was I a labourer I wrought all day As cheerfully as e're I took my pay Thus hath mine Age in all sometimes done well Sometimes again mine Age been worse then Hell In meanness greatness riches poverty Did toyle did broyle oppress'd did steal and lye Was I as poor as poverty could be Then baseness was Companion unto me Such scum as hedges and high-ways do yield As neither sow nor reaâ— nor plant nor build If to Agriculture I was orâ—ain'd Great labours sorrows Crosses I sustain'd The early Cock did summon but in vain My wakeful thoughts up to my painful gain My weary Beast rest from his toyle can find But if I rest the more distrest my mind If happiness my sordidness hath found 'T was in the Crop of my manured ground My thriving Cattle and my new-milch-Cow My fleeced Sheep and fruitful farrowing Sow To greater things I never did aspire My dunghil thoughts or hopes could reach no higher If to be rich or great it was my fate How was I broyl'd with envy and with hate Greater then was the great'st was my desire And thirst for honour set my heart on fire And by Ambition's sails I was so carâ—ied That over Flats and sands and Rocks I hurried Opprest and sunk and stav'd all in my way That did oppose me to my longed Bay My thirst was higher then nobility I oft loâ—g'd sore to tast on Royalty Then Kings must be depos'd or put to flight I might possess that Throne which was their right There set I rid my self straight out of hand Of such Competitors as might in time withstand Then thought my state firm founded sure to last But in a trice 't is ruin'd by a blast Though cemented with more then noble bloud The bottom nought and so no longer stood Sometimes vain glory is the only baite Whereby my empty Soul is lur'd and caught Be I of wit of learning and of parts I judge I should have room in all mens hearts And envy gnaws if any do surmount I hate not to be held in high'st account If Bias like I 'm stript unto my skin I glory in my wealth I have within Thus good and bad and what I am you see Now in a word what my diseases be The vexing stone in bladder and in reins The Strangury torments me with sore pains The windy Cholick oft my bowels rend To break the darksome prison where it 's pen'd The Cramp and Gout doth sadly torture me And the restraining lame Sciatica The Astma Megrim Palsy Lethargie The quartan Ague dropsy Lunacy Subject to all distempers that 's the truth Though some more incident to Age or Youth And to conclude I may not tedious be Man at his best estate is vanity Old Age. What you have been ev'n such have I before· And all you say say I and somewhat more Babes innocence youths wildness I have seen And in perplexed middle Age have been Sickness dangers and anxieties have past And on this stage am come to act my last I have been young and â—rong and wise as you But now Bis pueri seneâ— is too true In every Age I 've found much vanity An end of all perfection now I see It 's not my valour honour nor my gold My ruin'd house now falling can uphold It 's not my learning Rhetorick wit so large Hath now the power death's warfare to discharge It 's not my goodly state nor bed of downe That can refresh or ease if Conscience frown Nor from Alliance can I now have hope But what I have done well that is my prop He that in youth is godly wise and sage Provides a staff then to support his Age. Mutations great some joyful and some sad In this short pilgrimage I oft have had Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smil'd on me Sometime again rain'd all Adversity Sometimes in honour sometimes in disgrace Sometime an Abâ—â—ct then again in place Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen In various times of state I 've also been I 've seen a Kingdome flourish like a tree When it was rul'd by that Celestial she And like a Cedar others so surmount That but for shrubs they did themselves account Then saw I France and Holland sav'd Cales won And Philip and Albertus half undone I saw all peace at home terror to foes But ah I saw at last those eyes to close And then methought the day at noon grew dark When it had lost that radiant Sun-like Spark In midst of griefs I saw our hopes revive For 't was our hopes then kept our hearts alive We chang'd our queen for king under whose rayes We joy'd in many blest and prosperous dayes I 've seen a Prince the glory of our land In prime of youth seiz'd by heavens angry hand Which fil'd our hearts with fears with tears our eyes Wailing his fate our own destinies I 've seen from Rome an execrable thing A Plot to blow up Nobles and their King But saw their horrid fact soon disappointed And Land Nobles sav'd with their anointed I 've Princes seen to live on others lands A royal one by gifts from strangers hands Admired for their magnanimity Who lost a Prince-dome and a Monarchy I 've seen designs for Ree and Rochel crost And poor Palatinate for ever lost I've seen unworthy men advanced high And better ones suffer extremity But neither favour riches title State Could length their dayes or once reverse their fate I 've seen one stab'd and some to loose their heads And others fly struck both with gilt and dread I 've seen and so have you for t is but late The desolation of a goodly
State Plotted and acted so that none can tell VVho gave the counsel but the Prince of hell Three hundred thousand slaughtered innocents By bloudy Popish hellish miscreants Oh may you live and so you will I trust To see them swill in bloud untill they burst I 've seen a King by force thrust from his throne And an Usurper subt'ly mount thereon I 've seen a state unmoulded rent in twain But ye may live to see 't made up again I 've seen it plunder'd taxt and soak'd in bloud But out of evill you may see much good What are my thoughts this is no time to say Men may more freely speak another day These are no old-wives tales but this is truth We old men love to tell what 's done in youth But I return from whence I stept awry My memory is bad my brain is dry Mine Almond tree grey hairs doe flourish now And back once straight apace begins to bow My grinders now are few my sight doth â—ail My skin is wrinkled and my cheeks are pale No more rejoyce at musicks pleasing noise But waking glad to hear the cocks shrill voice I cannot scent savours of pleasant meat Nor sapors find in what I drink or eat My arms and hands once strong have lost their might I cannot labour much less can I fight My comely legs as nimble as the Roe Now stiff and numb can hardly creep or goe My heart sometimes as fierce as Lion bold Now trembling is all fearful sad and cold My golden Bowl and silver Cord e're long Shall both be broke by racking death so strong Then shall I go whence I shall come no more Sons Nephews leave my farewel to deplore In pleasures and in labours I have found That Earth can give no consolation found To great to rich to poor to young to old To mean to noble fearful or to bold From King to begger all degrees shall find But vanity vexation of the mind Yea knowing much the pleasants life of all Hath yet among those sweets some bitter gall Though reading others works doth much refresh Yet studying much brings weariness to th' flesh My studies labours readings all are done And my last period now ev'n almost run Corruption my Father I do call Mother and Sisters both the worms that crawle In my dark house such kindred I have store Where I shall rest till heavens shall be no more And when this flesh shall rot and be consum'd This body by this Soul shall be assum'd And I shall see with these same very eyes My strong Redeemer coming in the Skies Triumph I shall o're sin o're death o're Hell And in that hope I bid you all farewel The four Seasons of the Year Spring ANother four I 've left yet to bring on Of four times four the last Quaternion The Winter Summer Autumn the Spring In season all these Seasons I shall bring Sweet Spring like man in his Minority At present claim'd and had priority With smiling face and garments somewhat green She trim'd her locks which late had frosted been Nor hot nor cold she spake but with a breath Fit to revive the nummed earth from death Three months quoth she are ' lotted to my share March April May of all the rest most fair Tenth of the first Sol into Aries enters And bids defiance to all tedious winters Crosseth the Line and equals night and day Stil adds to th' last til after pleasant May And now makes glad the darkned northern wights Who for some months have seen but starry lights Now goes the Plow-man to his merry toyle He might unloose his winter locked soyl The Seeds-man too doth lavish out his grain In hope the more he casts the more to gain The Gardner now superfluous branches lops And poles erects for his young clambring hops Now digs then sowes his herbs his flowers rootâ— And carefully manure his trees of fruits The Plâ—â—ades their influence now give And all that seem'd as dead afresh doth live The croaking frogs whom nipping winter kil'd Like birds now chirp and hop about the field The Nightingale the black-bird and the â—hrush Now tune their layes on sprayes of every bush The wanton frisking Kid and soft-fleec'd Lambs Do jump and play before their feeding Dams The tender tops of budding grass they crop They joy in what they have but more in hope For though the frost hath lost his binding power Yet many a fleece of snow and stormy shower Doth darken Sol's bright eye makes us remember The pinching North-west wind of cold December My second moneth is April green and fair Of longer dayes and a more temperate Air The Sun in Taurus keeps his residence And with his warmer beams glanceth from thence This is the month whose fruitful showrs produces All set and sown for all delights and uses The Pear the Plum and Apple-tree now flourish The grass grows long the hungry beast to nourish The Primrose pale and azure violet Among the virâ—uous grass hath nature set That when the Sun on 's Love the earth doth shine These might as lace set out her garment fine The fearfull bird his little house now builds In trees and walls in Cities and in fields The outside strong the inside warm and neat A natural Artificer compleat The clocking hen her chirping chickins leads With wings beak defends them from the gleads My next and last is fruitfull pleasant May Wherein the earth is clad in rich aray The Sun now enters loving Gemini And heats us with the glances of his eye Our thicker rayment makes us lay aside Lest by his fervor we be torrifi'd All flowers the Sun now with his beams discloses Except the double pinks and matchless Roses Now swarms the busy witty honey-Bee VVhose praise deserves a page from more then me The cleanly Huswifes Daâ—y's now in th' prime Her shelves and firkins fill'd for winter time The meads with Cowslips Honey-suckles dight One hangs his head the other stands upright But both rejoyce at th' heavens clear smiling face More at her showers which water them a space For fruits my Season yields the early Cherry The hasty Peas and wholsome cool Strawberry More solid fruits require a longer time Each Season hath his fruit so hath each Clime Each man his own peculiar excellence But none in all that hath preheminence Sweet fragrant Spring with thy short pittance fly Let some describe thee better then can I. Yet above all this priviledg is thine Thy dayes still lengthen without least decline Summer When Spring had done the Summer did begin With melted tauny face and garments thin Resembling Fire Choler and Middle age As Spring did Air Blood Youth in 's equipage Wiping the sweat from of her face that ran With hair all wet she puffing thus began Bright June July and August hot are miâ—e In 'th first Sol doth in crabbed Cancer shine His progress to the North now 's fully done Then retrograde must be my burning Sun Who to
overthrown He Syria makes a Province of his own Unto Damascus then comes Judah's King His humble thankfulness in haste to bring Acknowledging th' â—ssyrians high desert To whom he ought all loyalty oâ— heart But Tiglath having gain'd his wished end Proves unto Ahâ—z but a feigned friend All Israels lands beyond Jordan he takes In Galilee he woful havock makes Through Syâ—ia now he march'd none stopt his way And Ahaz open at his mercy lay Who still implor'd his love but was distrest This was that Ahaz who so high transgrest Thus Tiglath reign'd warr'd twenty seven years Then by his death releas'd was Israels fears Salmanassar or Nabanassar Tiglath deceas'd Salmanassar was next He Israelites more then his Father vext Hâ—â—heâ— their last King he did invade And him six years his Tributary made But weary of his servitude he sought To Egypt King which did avail him nought For Salmâ—nassar with a mighty Host Besieg'd his Regal Town and spoyl'd his Coast And did the people nobles and their King Into perpetual thraldome that time bring Those that from Joshuah's time had been a state 1â— years Did Justice now by him eradicate This was that strange degenerated brood On whom nor threats nor mercies could do good Laden with honour prisoners and with spoyle Returns triumphant Victor to his soyle He placed Israel there where he thought best Then sent his Colonies theirs to invest Thus Jacobs Sons in Exile must remain And pleasant Canaan never saw again Where now those ten Tribes are can no man tell Or how they fare rich poor or ill or well Whether the Indians of the East or West Or wild Tartarians as yet ne're blest Or else those Chinoes rare whose wealth arts Hath bred more wonder then belief in hearts But what or where they are yet know we this They shall return and Zion see with bliss Senacherib Senacherib Salmanasser succeeds Whose haughty heart is showne in words deeds His wars none better then himself can boast On Henah Arpad and on Juahs coast On Hevahs and on Shepharvaims gods 'Twixt them and Israels he knew no odds Untill the thundring hand of heaven he felt Which made his Army into nothing melt With shame then turn'd to Ninive again And by his sons in 's Idols house was slain Essarhadon His Son weak Essarhaddon reign'd in 's place The fifth and last of great Bellosus race Brave Merodach the Son of Baladan In Babylon Lieftenant to this man Of opportunity advantage takes And on his Masters ruines his house makes As Belosus his Soveraign did onthrone So he 's now stil'd the King of Babilon After twelve years did Essarhaddon dye And Merodach assume the Monarchy Merodach Balladan All yield to him but Niniveh kept free Untill his Grand-child made her bow the knee Ambassadors to Hezekiah sent His health congratulates with complement Ben Merodach Ben Merodach Successor to this King Of whom is little said in any thing But by conjecture this and none but he Led King Manasseh to Captivity Nebulassar Brave Nebulassar to this King was son The famous Niniveh by him was won For fifty years or more it had been free Now yields her neck unto captivity A Vice-Roy from her foe she 's glad to accept By whom in firm obedience she is kept This King 's less fam'd for all the acts he 's done Then being Father to so great a Son Nebuchadnezzar or Nebopolassar The famous acts of this heroick King Did neither Homer Hesiod Virgil sing Nor of his Wars have we the certainty From some Thucidides grave history Nor 's Metamorphosis from Ovids book Nor his restoriag from old Legends took But by the Prophets Pen-men most divine This prince in 's magnitude doth ever shine This was of Monarchyes that head of gold The richest and the dread fullest to behold This was that tree whose branches fill'd the earth Under whose shadow birds and beasts had birth This was that king of kings did what he pleas'd Kil'd sav'd pul'd down set up or pain'd or eas'd And this was he who when he fear'd the least Was changed from a King into a beast This Prince the last year of his fathers reign Against Jehojakim marcht with his train Judahs poor King besieg'd and succourless Yields to his mercy and the present ' â—press His Vassal is gives pledges for his truth Children of royal blood unblemish'd youth Wise Daniel and his fellowes mongst the rest By the victorious king to Babel's prest The Temple of rich ornaments defac'd And in his Idols house the vessels plac'd The next year he with unresisted hand Quite vanquishâ—d Pharaoh Necho with his band By great Euphrates did his army fall Which was the loss of Syria withall Then into Egypt Necho did retire Which in few years proves the Assirians hire A mighty army next he doth prepare And unto wealthy Tyre in hast repair Such was the scituation of this place As might not him but all the world out-face That in her pride she knew not which to boast Whether her wealth or yet her strength was most How in all merchandize she did excel None but the true Ezekiel need to tell And for her strength how hard she was to gain Can Babels tired souldiers tell with pain Within an Island had this city seat Divided from the Main by channel great Of costly ships and Gallyes she had store And Mariners to handle sail and oar But the Chaldeans had nor ships nor skill Their shoulders must their Masters mind fulfill Fetcht rubbish from the opposite old town And in the channel threw each burden down Where after many essayes they made at last The sea firm land whereon the Army past And took the wealthy town but all the gain Requited not the loss the toyle and pain â—ull thirteen years in this strange work he spent Before he could accomplish his intent And though a Victor home his Army leads With peeled shoulders and with balded heads When in the Tyrian war this King was hot Jehojakim his oath had clean forgot Thinks this the fittest time to break his bands Whilest Babels King thus deep engaged stands But he whose fortunes all were in the ebbe Had all his hopes like to a spiders web For this great King withdraws part of his force To Judah marches with a speedy course And unexpected finds the feeble Prince Whom he chastis'd thus for his proud offence Fast bound intends to Babel him to send But chang'd his mind caus'd his life there end Then cast him out like to a naked Ass For this is he for whom none said alas His son he suffered three months to reign Then from his throne he pluck'd him down again Whom with his mother he to Babel led And seven and thirty years in prison fed His Uncle he establish'd in his place Who was last King of holy Davids race But he as perjur'd as Jehojakim They lost more now then e're they lost by him Seven years he kept his faith and safe he dwells
the father as the son This sound advice at heart pleas'd Alexander Who was so much ingag'd to this Commander As he would ne're confess nor yet reward Nor could his Captains bear so great regard Wherefore at once all these to satisfie It was decreed Parmenio should dye Polidamus who seem'd Parmenio's friend To do this deed they into Media send He walking in his garden to and fro Fearing no harm because he none did doe Most wickedly was slain without least crime The most renowned captain of his time This is Parmenio who so much had done For Philip dead and his surviving son Who from a petty King of Macedon By him was set upon the Persian throne This that Parmenio who still overcame Yet gave his Master the immortal fame Who for his prudence valour care and trust Had this reward most cruel and unjust The next who in untimely death had part Was one of more esteem but less desert Clitus belov'd next to Ephestian And in his cups his chief companion When both were drunk Clitus was wont to jeer Alexander to rage to kill and swear Nothing more pleasing to mad Clitus tongue Then 's Masters Godhead to defie and wrong Nothing toucht Alexander to the quick Like this against his Diety to kick Both at a Feast when they had tippled well Upon this dangerous Theam fond Clitus fell From jest to earnest and at last so bold That of Parmenio's death him plainly told Which Alexanders wrath incens'd so high Nought but his life for this could satisfie From one stood by he snatcht a partizan And in a rage him through the body ran Next day he tore his face for wâ—at he 'd done And would have slain himself for Clitus gone This pot Companion he did more bemoan Then all the wrongs to brave Parmenio done The nâ—x of worth that suffered after these Was learned virtuous wise Calisthenes VVho lov'd his Master more then did the rest As did appear in flattering him the least In his esteem a God he could not be Nor would adore him for a Diety For this alone and for no other cause Against his Sovereign or against his Laws He on the Rack his Limbs in pieces rent Thus was he tortur'd till his life was spent Of this unkingly act doth Seneca This censure pass and not unwisely say Of Alexander this th' eternal crime VVhich shall not be obliterate by time VVhich virtues fame can ne're redeem by far Nor all felicity of his in war VVhen e're 't is said he thousand thousands slew Yea and Calisthenes to death he drew The mighty Persian King he overcame Yea and he kill'd Calistâ—hâ—nâ—s of fame All Countryes Kingdomes Provinces he wan From Hellispont to th' farthest Ocean All this he did who knows ' not to be true But yet withal Catisthenes he slew From Macedon his Empire did extend Unto the utmost bounds o' th' orient All this he did yea and much more 't is true But yet withal Catisthenes he slew Now Alexander goes to Media Finds there the want of wise Parmenio Here his chief favourite Ephestian dies He celebrates his mournful obsequies Hangs his Physitian the Reason why He suffered his friend Ephestian dye This act me-thinks his Godhead should a shame To punish where himself deserved blame Or of necessity he must imply The other was the greatest Diety The Mules and Horses are for sorrow shorne The battlements from off the walls are torne Of stately Ecbatane who now must shew A rueful face in this so general woe Twelve thousand Talents also did intend Upon a sumptuous monument to spend What e're he did or thought not so content His messenger to Jupiter he sent That by his leave his friend Ephestion Among the Demy Gods they might inthrone From Media to Babylon he went To meet him there t' Antipater he 'd sent That he might act also upon the Stage And in a Tragedy there end his age The Queen Olimpias bears him deadly hate Not suffering her to meddle with the State And by her Letters did her Son incite This great indignity he should requite His doing so no whit displeas'd the King Though to his Mother he disprov'd the thing But now Antipater had liv'd so long He might well dye though he had done no wrong His service great is suddenly forgot Or if remembred yet regarded not The King doth intimate 't was his intent His Honours anâ— his riches to augment Of larger Provinces the rule to give And for his Counsel near the King to live So to be caught Antipater â—s too wise Parmenio's death 's too fresh before his eyes He was too subtil for his crafty soe Nor by his baits could be insnared so But his excuse with humble thanks he sends His Age and journy long he then pretends And pardon craves for his unwilling stay He shews his grief he 's forc'd to disobey Before his Answer came to Babylon The thread of Alexanders life was spun Poyson had put an end to 's dayes 't was thought By Philip and Cassander to him brought Sons to Antipater and bearers of his Cup Lest of such like their Father chance to sup By others thought and that more generaâ—ly That through excessive drinking he did dye The thirty third of 's Age do all agree This Conquerour did yield to destiny When this sad news came to Darius Mother She laid it more to heart then any other Nor meat nor drink nor comfort would she take But pinâ—d in grief till life did her forsake All friends she shuns yea banished the light Till death inwrapt her in perpetual night This Monarchs same must last whilst world doth stand And Conquests be talkt of whilest there is land His Princely qualities had he retain'd Unparalled for ever had remain'd But with the world his virtues overcame And so with black beclouded all his fame Wise Aristotle Tutor to his youth Had so instructed him in moral Truth The principles of what he then had learn'd Might to the last when sober be discern'd Learning and learned men he much regarded And curious Artist evermore rewarded The Illiads of Homer he still kept And under 's pillow laid them when he slept Achilles happiness he did envy ' Cause Homer kept his acts to memory Profusely bountifull without desert For such as pleas'd him had both wealth and heart Cruel by nature and by custome too As oft his acts throughout his reign doth shew Ambitious so that nought could satisfie Vain thirsting after immortality Still fearing that his name might hap to dye And â—ame not last unto eternity This Conqueror did oâ—t lament t is said There were no more worlds to be conquered This folly great Augustus did deride For had he had but wisdome to his pride He would have found enough there to be done To govern that he had already won His thoughts are perisht he aspires no more Nor can he kill or save as heretofore A God alive him all must Idolize Now like a mortal helpless man
knows but this may be my overthrow Oh pity me in this sad perturbation My plundred Towns my houses devastation My weeping Virgins and my young men slain My wealthy trading fall'n my dearth of grain The seed-times come but ploughman hath no hope Because he knows not who shall inn his Crop The poor they want their pay their children bread Their woful Mothers tears unpittied If any pity in thy heart remain Or any child-like love thou dost retain For my relief do what there lyes in thee And recompence that good I 've done to thee New-England Dear Mother cease complaints wipe your eyes Shake off your dust chear up and now arise You are my Mother Nurse and I your flesh Your sunken bowels gladly would refresh Your griefs I pity but soon hope to see Out of your troubles much good fruit to be To see those latter dayes of hop'd for good Though now beclouded all with tears and blood After dark Popery the day did clear But now the Sun in 's brightness shall appear Blest be the Nobles of thy noble Land With ventur'd lives for Truths defence that stand Blest be thy Commons who for common good And thy infringed Laws have boldly stood Blest be thy Counties who did aid thee still With hearts and States to testifie their will Blest be thy Preachers who do chear thee on O cry the Sword of God and Gidâ—on And shall I not on them wish Mâ—ro's curse That help thee not with prayers Arms and purse And for my self let miseries abound If mindless of thy State I e're be found These are the dayes the Churches foes to crush To root out Popelings head tail branch and rush Let 's bring Baals vestments forth to make a fire Their Mytires Surplices and all their Tire Copes Rotchets Crossiers and such empty trash And let their Names consume but let the flash Light Christendome and all the world to see We hate Romes whore with all her trumpery Go on brave Essex with a Loyal heart Not false to King nor to the better part But those that hurt his people and his Crown As duty binds expel and tread them down And ye brave Nobles chase away all fear And to this hopeful Cause closely adhere O Mother can you weep and have such Peers When they are gone then drown your self in tears If now you weep so much that then no more The briny Ocean will o'reflow your shore These these are they I trust with Charles our King Out of all mists such glorious dayes shall bring That dazled eyes beholding much shall wonder At that thy setled peace thy wealth and splendor Thy Church and weal establish'd in such manner That all shall joy that thou display'dst thy Banner And discipline erected so I trust That nursing Kings shall come and lick thy dust Then Justice shall in all thy Courts take place Without respect of person or of case Then Bribes shall cease Suits shall not stick long Patience and purse of Clients oft to wrong Then high Commissions shall fall to decay And Pursivants and Catchpoles want their pay So shall thy happy Nation ever flourish When truth righteousnes they thus shall nourish When thus in peace thine Armies brave send out To sack proud Rome and all her Vassals rout There let thy Name thy fame and glory shine As did thine Ancestors in Palestine And let her spoyls full pay with Interest be Of what unjustly once she poll'd from thee Of all the woes thou canst let her be sped And on her pour the vengeance threatned Bring forth the Beast that rul'd the World with 's beck And tear his flesh set your feet on 's neck And make his filthy Den so desolate To th' stonishment of all that knew his state This done with brandish'd Swords to Turky goe For then what is' t but English blades dare do And lay her waste for so 's the sacred Doom And do to Gog as thou hast done to Rome Oh Abraham's seeâ— lift up your heads on high For sure the day of your Redemption's nigh The Scales shall fall from your long blinded eyes And him you shall adore who now despise Then fulness of the Nations in shall flow And Jew and Gentile to one worship go Then â—ollows dayes of happiness and rest Whose lot doth fall to live therein is blest No Canaanite shall then be found i' th' Land And holiness on horses bells shall stand If this make way thereto then sigh no more But if at all thou didst not see 't before Farewel dear Mother rightest cause prevail And in a while you 'le tell another tale An Elegie upon that Honourable and renowned Knight Sir Philip Sidney who was untimely slain at the Siege of Zutphan Anno 1586. WHen England did enjoy her Halsion dayes Her noble Sidney wore the Crown of Bayes As well an honour to our British Land As she that sway'd the Scepter with her hand Mars and Minerva did in one agree Of Arms and Arts he should a pattern be Calliâ—pi with Terpsichorâ— did sing Of Poesie and of musick he was King His Rhetorick struck Polâ—mina dead His Eloquence made Mercury wax red His Logick from Euterpe won the Crown More worth was his then Clio could set down Thalia and Melpomene say truth Witness Arcadia penned in his youth Are not his tragick Comedies so acted As if your ninefold wit had been compacted To shew the world they never saw before That this one Volume should exhaust your store His wiser dayes condemn'd his witty works Who knows the spels that in his Rhetorick lurks But some infatuate fools sâ—on caught therein Fond Cupias Dame had never such a gin Which makes severer eyes but slight that story And men of morose minds envy his glory But he 's a Beetle head that can't descry A world of wealth within that rubbish lye And doth his name his work his honour wrong The brave refiner of our British tongue That sees not learning valour and morality Justice friendship and kind hospitality Yea and Divinity within his book Such were prejudicate and did not look In all Records his name I ever see Put with an Epithite of dignity Which shews his worth was great his honour such The love his Country ought him was as much Then let none disallow of these my straines Whilst English blood yet runs within my veins O brave Achilles I wish some Homer would Engrave in Marble with Characters of gold The valiant feâ—s thou didst on Flanders coast Which at this day fair Belgia may boast The more I say the more thy worth I stain Thy fame and praise is far beyond my strain O Zutphen Zutphen that most fatal City Made famous by thy death much more the pity Ah! in his blooming prime death pluckt this rose E're he was ripe his thread cut Atropos Thus man is born to dye and dead is he Brave Hector by the walls of Troy we see O who was near thee but did sore repine He
rescued not with life that life of thine But yet impartial Fates this boon did give Though Stancy di'd his valiant name should live And live it doth in spight of death through fame Thus being overcome he overcame Where is that envious tongue but can afford Of this our noble Scipio some good word Great Bartas this unto thy praise adds more In sad sweet verse thou didst his death deplore And Phaenix Spencer doth unto his life His death present in sable to his wife Stella the fair whose streams from Conduits fell For the sad loss of her dear Astrophel Fain would I shew how he fames paths did tread But now into such Lab'rinths I am lead VVith endless turnes the way I'find not out How to persist my Muse is more in doubt VVhich makes me now with Silvester confess But Sidney's Muse can sing his worthiness The Muses aid I crav'd they had no will To give to their Detractor any quill VVith high disdain they said they gave no more Since Sidney had exhausted all their store They took from me the scribling pen I had I to be eas'd of such a task was glad Then to reveng this wrong themselves engage And drave me from Paâ—nassus in a rage Then wonder not if I no better sped Since I the Muses thus have injured I pensive for my fault sate down and then Errata through their leave threw me my pen My Poem to conclude two lines they deign Which writ she bad return't to them again So Sidneys fame I leave to Englands Rolls His bones do lie interr'd in stately Pauls His Epitaph Here lies in fame under this stone Philip and Alexander both in one Heir to the Muses the Son of Mars in Truth Learning Valour Wisdome all in virtuous youth His praise is much this shall suffice my pen That Sidney dy'd 'mong most renown'd of men In honour of Du Bartas 1641. Among the happy wits this age hath shown Great dear sweet Bartas thou art matchless known My ravish'd Eyes and heart with faltering tongue In humble wise have vow'd their service long But knowing th'task so great strength but small Gave o're the work before begun withal My dazled sight of late review'd thy lines Where Art and more then Art in nature shines Reflection from their beamâ—ng Altitude Did thaw my frozen hearts ingratitude Which Rayes darting upon some richer ground Had caused flours and fruits soon to abound But barren I my Dasey here do bring A homely flour in this my latter Spring If Summer or my Autumn age do yield Flours fruits in Garden Orchard or in Field They shall be consecrated in my Verse And prostrate offered at great Bartas Herse My muse unto a Child I may compare Who sees the riches of some famous Fair He feeds his Eyes but understanding lacks To comprehend the worth of all those knacks The glittering plate and lewels he admires The Hats and Fans the Plumes and Ladies tires And thousand times his mazed mind doth wish Some part at least of that brave wealth was his But seeing empty wishes nought obtain At night turns to his Mothers cot again And tells her tales his full heart over-glad Of all the glorious sights his Eyes have had But finds too soon his want of Eloquence The silly pratler speaks no word of sense But seeing utterance fail his great desires Sits down in silence deeply he admires Thus weak brain'd I reading thy lofty stile Thy profound learning viewing other while Thy Art in natural Philosophy Thy Saint like mind in grave Divinity Thy piercing skill in high Astronomy And curious insight in Anatomy Thy Physick musick and state policy Valour in warr in peace good husbandry Sure lib'ral Nature did with Art not small In all the arts make thee most liberal A thousand thousand times my seâ—sless sences Moveless stand charm'd by thy sweet influences More sensless then the stones to Amphioâ—s Lute Mine eyes are sightless and my tongue is mute My full astonish'd heart doth pant to break Through grief it wants a faculty to speak Volleyes of praises could I eccho then Had I an Angels voice or Bartas pen But wishes can't accomplish my desire Pardon if I adore when I admire O France thou did'st in him more glory gain Then in thy Martel Pipin Charlemain Then in St. Lewes or thy last Henry Great Who tam'd his foes in warrs in bloud and sweat Thy fame is spread as far I dare be bold In all the Zones the temp'rate hot and cold Their Trophies were but heaps of wounded slain Thine the quintessence of an heroick brain The oaken Garland ought to deck their brows Immortal Bayes to thee all men allows VVho in thy tryumphs never won by wrongs Lead'st millions chaind by eyes by ears by tongues Oft have I wondred at the hand of heaven In giving one what would have served seven If e're this golden gift was showr'd on any Thy double portion would have served many Unto each man his riches is assign'd Of Name of State of Body and of Mind Thou hadst thy part of all but of the last O pregnant brain O comprehension vast Thy haughty Stile and rapted wit sublime All ages wondring at shall never climb Thy sacred works are not for imitation But Monuments to future Admiration Thus Bartas fame shall last while starrs do stand And whilst there 's Air or Fire or Sea or Land But least mine ignorance should do thee wrong To celebrate thy merits in my Song I 'le leave thy praise to those shall do thee right Good will not skill did cause me bring my Mite His Epitaph Here lyes the Pearle of France Parnassus Glory The World rejoyc'd at 's birth at 's death was sorry Art and Nature joyn'd by heavens high decree Now shew'd what once they ought Humanity And Natures Law had it been revocable To rescue him from death Art had been able But Nature vanquish'd Art so Bartas dy'd But Fame out-living both he is reviv'd In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess Queen Elizabeth OF HAPPY MEMORY The Proeme ALthough great Queen thou now in silence lye Yet thy loud Herald Fame doth to the sky Thy wondrous worth proclaim in every Clime And so hath vow'd while there is world or time So great 's thy glory and thine excellence The sound thereof rapts every humane sence That men account it no impiety To say thou wert a fleshly Diety Thousands bring offerings though out of date Thy world of honours to accumulate ' Mongst hundred Hecatombs of roaring verse Mine bleating stands before thy royal Herse Thou never didst nor canst thou now disdain T' accept the tribute of a loyal brain Thy clemency did yerst esteem as much The acclamations of the poor as rich Which makes me deem my rudeness is no wrong Though I resound thy praises ' mongst the throng The Poem No Phoenix pen nor Spencers poetry No Speeds nor Cambdens learned History Elizahs works warrs praise can e're compact The World 's the