ANTH. TINCEST. TO HIS WORTHY PRIEND Till it hath hatch'd such numbers as may buy Let me sing him that merits best, Let other scrape for fashion ; Their buzzing prate thy worth will jest, Thus, do I spurre thee on with sharpest praise, MR. WILLIAM BROWNE, So, Fame shall ever say, to thy renowne, That poets are not bred so, but so borne, She hath stroke envy dumbe, and charm'd the lore The true lover of thyne Of ev'ry Muse whose birth the skyes approre. Goe on; I know thou art too good to feare. And may thy earely straines affect the eare The richer gifts which do advantage man! è So. Int. Templ. ON HIS BOOK E. JOHN MORGAN, AD ILLUSTRISSIMUM JUVENEM GULIELMUM BROWNE, GENEROSUM, IN OPERIS SUI TOMUM SECUNDUM. CARMEN GRATULATORIUM. SCRIPTA priùs vidi, legi, digitoque notari Carminis istius singula verba meo. Oinnia sed par est, aut ego nulla notein. Laudator prolis solus & author eris : Hæc nondum visi qui flagrat amore libelli Prænarrat scriptis omina certa tuis. TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR. 'THO. HETGATE CAROLUS CROKE. AUGUSTUS CÆSAR. TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR. TO MY NOBLE FRIEND THE AUTHOR. If antique swaines wanne such immortall praise, Though they alone with their melodious layes, A PERFECT pen, itselfe will ever praise. Did onely charme the woods and low'ry lawnes : So pipes our shepheard in bis roundelayes, Satyres, and floods, and stones, and hairy fawnes : That who could judge of musique's sweetest straine, That charm'st not them but men with thy sweet How much, brave youth, to thy due worth belongs Would swear thy Muse were in a heavenly vayne. A worke of worth, shews wbat the worke-man is : songs? When as the fault that may be found amisse, è So. Int. Templ. (To such at least, as have judicious eyes) Nor in the worke, nor yet the worke-man lyes. Well worthy thou, to weare the lawreil wreathe : TO THE AUTHOR. When from thy brest, these blessed thoughts do breathe; 'Tis knowne I scorne to fatter (or commend) That in thy gracious lines such grace doe give, What merits not applause though in my friend: It makes ther, everlastingly to live. Which by my censure should now more appeare, Thy words well coucht, thy sweet invention show Were this not full as good as thou art deare: A perfect poet, that could place them so. But since thou couldst not (erring) make it so, è So. Int. Templ. UNTON CROKE. That I might my inipartiall humour show By finding fault; nor one of these friends tell Might paint out mine: 1 feel an envious touch, And tell thee, swaine: that at thy fame I grutch, Tuat priviledge which others claime, Wishing the art that makes this poeme shine, To flatter with their friends, And this thy worke (wert not thou wronged) mine. With thee, friend, shall not be mine ayme, For when detraction shall forgotten be My verse so much pretends. This will continue to eternize thee; And if hereafter any busie wit The generall umpire of best wit Should, wronging thy conceit, miscensure it, In this will speak thy fame. Though seeming learn'd or wise: here he shall see, The Muse's minions as they sit, 'Tis prais'd by wiser and more learn'd than he. Will still confirme the same. G. WITHER. But I have seen thy worke, and I know thee: And, if thou list thyselfe, what thou canst be. For, though but early in these pathes thou tread, commends. I find thee write most worthy to be read. It must be thine owne judgement, yet, that sends This thy worke forth: that judgment mine [fames, And, where the most reade bookes on author's Or, like our money-brokers, take up names On credit, and are cossen'd; see, that thou By off'ring not more sureties, than inow, Hold thyne owne worth unbroke: which is so good Upon th' exchange of letters, as I wou'd More of our writers would, like thee, not swell With the how much they set forth, but th' how well. BEN JONSON. POEMS OF WILLIAM BROWNE.e BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS, BOOK I. THE FIRST SONG. THE ARGUMENT. Marina's love, ycleep'd the faire, Celand's disdaine, and her despaire, Are the first wings my Muse puts on To reach the sacred Helicon. I THAT Whileare, neere Tavie's' stragling spring, But as a swayne unkent fed on the plaines, My prayse may lesson, but not make thee greater. 1 Tavie is a river, having his head in Dertmore, in Devon, some few miles from Marie-Tavy, and falls southward into Tamar: out of the same moore riseth, running northward, another, called Tau: which by the way the rather I speake of, because in the printed Malmesburie de Gest, Pontific. lib. 2. fol. 146. you reade, Est in Domnonia cœnobium Monachorum juxta Tau fluvium, quod Tavistock vocatur: whereas upon Tau stands (neere the north-side of the shire) Taustocke, being no remnants of a monasterie: so that you must there reade, juxta Tavi Fluvium, as in a manuscript copie of Malmesburie, (the forme of the hand assuring Malmesburie's time) belonging to the abbey of S. Augustine, in Canterburie, I have seen, in the hands of my very learned friend M. Selden. My Muse for lofty pitches shall not rome, High on the plaines of that renowned ile, [eyes, Within those brests her face a flame did move, But that his labour's recompence was such Which she perceiving that his flame did slake, Would say, his good came, ere he hop'd for it: What others would, thou mai'st, and yet wilt not. And bathes his joy within my floud of teares. [sign'd? We well may flye the place, but not the woe: Love's fire is of a nature which by turnes Consumes in presence, and in absence burnes.' And knowing this, aye me! unhappy wight! minde.' And welcome here, (than love, a better guest) springs, [farre, Of whom I heare the fearefull bellowings, [hence, But why protract I time? Death is no stranger, As when to seeke her foode abroad doth rove |