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Those, to the Muses once so sacred, downes, Made of purer mould than earth.
As no rude foote might there presume to stand : Him did Nature from his birth,
(Now made the way of the unworthiest clownes, And the Muses single out,
Dig'd and plow'd up with each unhallowed hand) For a sccond Colin Clout.
If possible thou canst, redeeme those places, Tityrus made him a singer :
Where, by the brim of many a silver spring, Pan him taught his pipe to finger:
The learned maydens, and delightfull graces Numbers, curious eares to please,
Often have sate to heare our shepheards sing : Learn'd be of Philisides.
Where on those pines the neighb’ring groves aniong Kala lores him: and the lasses
Crow nitterly neglected in these dayes)

Points at him, as by he passes,
Our garlands, pipes, and cornamutes were hong Wishing never tongue that's bad
The monuments of our deserved praise.

Censure may so blithe a lad.
So may thy shecpe like, so thy lambes increase, Therefore well can he requite
And from the wolfe feede orer safe and free! Musicke's sweets with like delight:
So mai'st thou thrive, among the learned prease, Sing thon; breake the yeelding ayre,
As thou young shepheard art bclov'd of me! Syren more than earthly fayre.

MICHAEL DRAITON".
è So Int. Teinpl.

EDWARD HEYWARD.

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR',

UPON HIS POEM.

TO HIS INGENIOUS AND WORTHY FRIEND,

THE AUTHOR.
He that will tune his oaten pipe aright,
To great Apollo's harp: he that will write
A living poem ; must have many yeres,
And setled judgment ’mongst his equall peeres,
In well-rig'd barke to stcere his doubtful course ;
Least secret, rockie envy; or the source
Of froathy, but skyc-tow’ring arrogance;
Or fleeting, sandy vulgar censure chance
To leave him ship wrackt, on the desert maine
Imploring aged Neptune's help in vaine.
The younger cygnet, even at best, doth teare,
With bis harsh squealings, the melodious care :
It is the old, and dying swan that sings
Notes worthy life, worthy the Thespian springs.
But thou art young; and yet thy voyce as sweet,
Thy verse as smooth, composure as discreet
As any swan's, whose tuneful notes are spent
On Thames his bancks; which makes me confident,
He knows no music, hath not ears, nor tongue,
That not commends a voyce so sweet, so young.

This plant is knotlesse that puts forth these leaves,
Upon whose branches I his praise doe sing :
Fruitfull the ground, whose verdure it receives
From fertile Nature and the learned spring.
In zeale to good; knowne, but unpractiz'd ill,
Chaste in his thoughts, though in bis youthful

prime,
He writes of past'rall love, with nectar'd quill,
And offers up his first fruits unto time. [them
Receive them (Time) and in thy border place
Among thy various powers of poesie;
No envy biast, por ignorance deface them,
But keepe them fresh in fayrest memory!
And when from Daphue's tree he plucks more
bajes

(laies. His shepherd's pipe may chant more heav'nly

CHRISTOPHER BROOKE.

GUILIELMUS

ANAGRAMMA.
ON HIM;

BROWNE.
A PASTORALL ODE 10 MIS' FAIR EST SHEPHEANDESSE.
Syrex more than earthly faire,

Ne vulgo Librum ejos,
Sweetly breake the yeelding ayre:

Si vulgus gustare tuo velis apta palato; Sing on Albion's whitest rockes :

I, pete vulgares, ac aliunde, da pes. Sing; whilst Willie to his fuckes,

Nil vulgare sapit liber hic; hinc vulgus abesto : Deftly tunes his various reede.

Non nisi delicias hæc tibi mensa dabit. Sing; and he, whilst younglings feede,

è So. Int, Tempi.

FR. DYNNE
Answere shall thy best of singing,
With his rural musicke, bringing
Tiquall pleasure ; and requite

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR.
Musicke's sweets with like delight.
Wbat though Willie's songs he plaine,

On (jolly lad) and hye thee to the field
Sweet they be : for he's a swaine

Amougst the best swaines that the vallies yeeld ;

Goe boldly, and in presence of them all, 6 He likewise pays him this compliment in his Proceede a shepheard with his pastorall. epistle on Poets and Poetry, in the 2d vol, of his Let Pan, and all his rurall traine attending, poems, in fol. printed 1627, p. 208. or vol iv. From stately mountaines to the plaines descending, p. 398 of the present collection.

Salute this pastor with their kinde embraces ; Then they two Beaumonts and my Browne arose,

And entertaine him to their holy places. My dear companions, whom I freely chose.

Let all the nymphes of hils and dales together My bosom friends * ; and in their several wayes

Kisse him for earliest of his welcome thither : Rightly born poets, anıl in these last days

Crowne him with garlands of the choiscst flowres, Men of much note, and no less noble parts, &c.

And make him ever dwell within their bowres; * Sir John Beaumont, bart. and his brother Francis Beaumont, esq.

? See Book 2. Canto 2.

THO. CARDINER.

W. FERRAR.

For well I wote in all the plaines around, To hear bow thou describ'st a tree, a dale,
There are but few such shepheards to be found, A grove, a greene, a solitary vale,
That can such learned layes and ditties frame, The evening showers, and the moruing gleames,
Or aptly fit their tunes unto the same.

The golden mountaines, and the silver streaines,
And let them all (if this young swaine should die) How smooth thy verse is, and how sweet thy rimes,
Tune all their reedes to sing his memorie. How sage, and yet how pleasant are thy lines;
à S. Int. Templ.

What more or lesse can there be said by men,

But, Muscs rule thy hand, and guide thy pen. è So. Int. Templ.

THO. WENMAN,
TO THE AUTHOR.
Ha I beheld thy Muse upon the stage,

TO HIS WORTHJLY-AFFECTED FRIEND
A poesie in fashion with this age;
Or bad I seen, when first I view'd thy taske,

MR. W. BROWNE.
An active wit dance in a satyre's maske,

AWAKE sad Muse, and thou my sadder spright, I should in those bave prais'd thy wit and art,

Made so by Time, but more by Fortune's spight: But not thy ground, poem's better part :

Awake, and high us to the greene, Which being the perfect'st image of the braine,

There shall be seene Not fram’d to any base end, but to gaine

The quaintest lad of all the time True approbation of the artist's worth,

For neater rime : When to an open view he sets it forth,

Whose free and unaffected straines Judiciously: he strives, no lesse t'adore

Take all the swaines By a choise subject, than a eurious forme:

That are not rude and ignorant,
Well hast thou then past o'er all other rhime,

Or envy want.
And in a pastorall spent thy leasure's time :
Where fruit so fayre, and field so fruitfull is,

And envy lest its hate discovered be
That hard it is to judge whether in this

A courtly love and friendship offers thee : The substance or the fashion more excel,

The shepardiesses blith and fayre So precious is the jemme, and wrought so well.

For thee despayre. Thus rest thou prais'd of me, fruit, field, jemme

And whosoe're depends on Pan art,

Holds him a man Doe claimę much praise to equall such desart.

Beyond themselves, (if not compare,) è So. Med. Templ.

He is so rare,
So innocent in all his wayes

As in his layes.
TO THE AUTHOR.

He master's no low soule who hopes to please FRIEND, ile not erre in blazing of thy worth ;

The nephew of the brave Philisides.
This worke in truest termes will set it forth :
In these few lines the all I doe intend

ANOTHER TO THE SAME.
Is but to show that I have such a friend.

WERE all men's envies fixt in one man's lookes, è So. Int. Templ.

That monster that would prey on safest fame,
Durst not oncc checke at thine, not at thy name:

So he who men can reade as well as bookes
TO THE MOST INGENIOUS AUTHOR

Attest thy lines; thus tryde, they show to us
MR. W. BROWNE.

As Scæva's shield, thyselfe Emeritus. INGENIOUS swaine! that highly dost adorne Clear Tavy! on whose brinck we both were borne! Just praise in me would ne'er be thought to move To my BROWNE, yet brightest swaine Prom thy sole worth, but from tby partiall love. That woons, or haunts, or hill, or plaine. Wherefore I will not do thee so much wrong, As by such mixture to allay thy song. But while kind strangers rightly praise each grace Pipe on, sweet swaine, till joy, in blisse, sleepe Of thy chaste Muse, I (from the happy place,

waking! That brought thee forth, and thinkes it not unfit Hermes, it seems, to thee, of all the swaines, To boast now, that it carst bred such a wit ;)

Hath lent his pipe and art: for, thou art making Would onely have it knowne I much rejoyce,

With sweet notes (noted) heav'n of hils and plaines! To hear such matters, sung by such a voyce.

Nay, as if thou beginn'st, thou dost hold on,
JOHN GLANVILL.

The totall earth thine Arcadie will be ;
And Neptune's monarchy thy Helicon :

So, all in both will make a god of thee.
10 HIS FRIEND MR. BROWNE,

To whom they will exhibit sacrifice

Of richest love and praise; and envious swaines All that doe reade thy workes, and see thy face, (Charm'd with thine accents) shall thy notes agnize (Wbere scarce a baire growes up, thy chin to To reach above great Pan's in all thy straines. grace)

Then, ply this veyne : for, it may well containe Doe greatly wonder how so youthful yeeres The richest morais under poorest shroud ; Could frame a worke, where so much worth ap

And sifth in thee the past'rall spirit doth raigne, peares,

On such wit's treasures let it sit abrood :

FR. OULDE.

W. HERBERT.

POETA NASCITUR.

ANTH. VINCEST.

TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND

ON HIS BOOKE.

Till it hath hatch'd such numbers as may buy Let me sing him that merits best,
The rarest fame that e're enriched ayre:

Let other scrape for fashion ;
Or fann'd the way faire to eternity,

Their buzzing prate thy worth will jest,
To which, unsoil'd, thy glory shall repaire !

And sleight such commendation.
Where (with the gods that in faire starres doe dwell,
When thou shalt, blazing, in a starse abide)
Thou shalt be stil'd the shepherd's starre, to tell
Them many mysteries, and be their guide.

Thus, do I spurre thee on with sharpest praise,
To use thy gifts of nature, and of skill,

MR. WILLIAM BROWNE,
To double-guild Aprllo's browes, and bayes,
Yet make great Nature art's true sov'raigne still.

So, Fame shall ever say, to thy renowne, That poets are not bred so, but so borne,
“ The shepherd's starre, or bright'st in sky, is Thy Muse it proves; for in ber age's morne
Browne !"

She hath stroke envy dumbe, and charm'd the lore The true lover of thyne

Of ev'ry Muse whose birth the skyes approre.
Art and Nature,

Goe on; I know thou art too good to feare.
JOHN DAVIES of Heref.

And may thy earely straines affect the eare
Of that rare lord, who judge and guerdon can

The richer gifts which do advantage man!

è So. Int. Templ.
AD ILLUSTRISSIMUM JUVENEM
GULIELMUM BROWNE,

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR.
CENEROSUM, IN OPERIS SUI TOMUM SECUNDUM.

SOMETIMES (deare friend) I make thy booke my

And then I judge 'tis honey that I eate. (meat, SCRIPTA priùs vidi, legi, digitoque notari

Sometimes my drink it is, and then I thinke
Carminis istius singula verba meo.

It is Apollo's nectar, and no drinke.
Ex scriptis sparsim quærebam carpere dicta, And being hurt in minde, I keepe in store

Oinnia sed par est, aut ego nulla notem. Thy booke, a precious halsame for the sore.
Filia si fuerit facies hæc nacta sororis,

'Tis hony, nectar, balsame most divine : Laudator prolis solus & author eris:

Or one word for them all; my friend, 'tis thine. Hæc nondum visi qui flagrat amore libelli

è So. Int. Templ. Prænarrat scriptis omina certa tuis.

JOHN MORGAN.

CARMEN GRATULATORIUM.

THO. HETGATE

CAROLUS CROKE.

songs?

AUGUSTUS CÆSAR.

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR.

If antique swaines wanne such immortall praise, TO MY NOBLE FRIEND THE AUTHOR.

Though they alone with their melodious layes, A Perfect pen, itselfe will ever praise.

Did onely charme the woods and flow'ry lawnes : So pipes our shepheard in his 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:

è So. Int. Templ. When as the fault that may be found amisse, (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.

That I might my inipartiall humour show
By finding fault; nor one of these friends tell
How to show love so ill, that I as well

Might paint out mine: 1 feel an envious touch,
TO THE AUTHOR.

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.

UNTON CROKE.

G. WITHER.

TO MR. BROWNE.

But I have seen thy worke, and I know thee: Were there a thought so strange as to deny

And, if thou list thyselfe, what thou canst be. That happy bages do some men's births adorne,

For, though but early in these pathes thou

tread, Thy worke alone might serve to justifie, That poets are not madeso, but so borne. [highe It must be thine owne judgement, yet, that sends

I find thee write most worthy to be read. How could thy plumes thus soone have soar'd thus

This thy worke forth: that judginent mine Hadst thou not lawrell in thy cradle worne?

commends.

[fames, Thy birth o'er-took thy youth : and it doth make

And, where the most reade bookes on author's Thy youth (herein) thine elders over-take.

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 TO MY TRULY BELOVED FRIEND,

good MR. BROWNE,

Upon th' exchange of letters, as I wou'd

More of our writers would, like thee, not swell Some men, of bookes or friends not speaking right,

With the how much they set forth, but th' how

well. May hurt them more with praise, than foes with spight.

DEN JONSON,

W. B.

ON HIS PASTORALS.

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