Sivut kuvina

Vaine honour is a play of diners parts,

(As if the painters with new art would strive, Where fained words and gestures please our hearts; Por feare of bugs, to keepe poore men aline) 'Tie flatter'd audience are the actor's friends; But one, who from thy mother's wombe bath been But lose that title when the fable ends.

Thy friend and strict companion, though voseene, The faire desire that others should behold.

To leade thee in the right appointed way, Their clay well featur'd, their well temper'd mould, And crowne thy labours at the conqu’ring day. Ambitious mortals make their chiefe pretence, Vngratefull men, why dop you sicknesse loath, To be the obiects of delighted sense :

Which blessings giue in Heau'n, or Earth, or both?
Yet oft the shape and hue of basest things
More admiration moues, more pleasure brings.
Why should we glory to be counted strong ?
This is the praise of beasts, the pow'r of wrong:

And if the strength of many were inclos'd
Within one brest, yét when it is ppos'd

He that from dust of worldly tumults fies,
Against that force which art or nature frame,

May boldly open his vndazled eyes, It melts like waxe before the scorching faine. To reade wise Nature's booke, and with delight We cannot in thes? outward things be blest; Surueyes the plants by day, and starres by night. For we are sure to lose them; and the best We necde not trauaile, seeking wayes to blisse: Of these coutentments no such comfort beares, He that desires contentment, cannot misse : As may waigh equall with the doubts and feares

No garden walles this precious flower imbrace : Which fixe our minds on that vocertaine day, It common growes in eu'ry desart place. When these shall faile, most certaine to decay. Large scope of pleasure drownes vs like a flood, From length of life no happinesse can come, To rest in little, is our greatest good. But what the guilty feele, who, after doome, Learne ye that clime the top of Fortune's wheele, Are to the lothsome prison sent againe,

That dang'rous state which ye disdaine to feele : And there must stay to die with longer paine. Your highnesse puts your happinesse to fight, No earthly gift lasts after death, but fame; Your inward comforts fade with outward light, This gouernes men more carefull of their name Vnlesse it be a blessing not to know Than of their soules, which their vngodly taste This certaine truth, lest ye should pine for woe, Dissolues to nothing, and shall proue at last To see inferiours so diuinely blest Farre worse than nothing : prayses come too late, With freedome, and your selues with fetters prest. When man is not, or is in wretched state.

Ye sit like pris'ners barr'd with doores and chaines, But these are ends which draw the meanest hearts :

And yet no care perpetuall care restraines. Lat vs search deepe and trie our better parts : Ye striue to mixe your sad conceits with ioyes, O knowledge! if a Heau'a on Earth could be, By curious pictures and by glitt'ring toyes, I would expect to reape that blisse in thee:

While others are got hind'red from their ends, But thou art blind, and they that baue thy light, Delighting to conuerse with bookes or friends, More clearely know, they live in darksome night. And ljuing thus retir'd, obtaine the pow'r See, man, thy stripes at schoole, thy paines abroad, To reigne as kings, of euery sliding houre : Thy watching, and thy palenesse, well bestow'd : They walke by Cynthiae's light, and lift their eyes These feeble helpes can scholars neuer bring To view the ord’red armies in i he skies. To perfect knowledge of the plainest thing: The Heau’ns they measure with imagin'd lines, And some to such a height of learning grow, And when the northerne hemisphere declines, 'They die perswaded, that they nothing know. New constellations in the south they find, In vaine swift houres spent in deepe study slide, Whose rising may refresh the studious mind. Vnlesse the purchast doctrine curbe our pride. In these delights, though freedome shew more high, The soule, perswaded that no fading loue

Few can to things aboue their thoughts apply. Can equall her imbraces, seekes aboue :

But who is he that cannot cast his looke And now aspiring to a bigher place,

On earth, and read the beauty of that booke ? Is glad that all her comforts here are base. A bed of smiling How'rs, a trickling spring,

A swelling riuer, more contentment bring
Than can be shadow'd by the best of art:

Thus still the poore man hath the better part.
The end of sicknesse, health, or death, declare
The cause as happy, as the sequells are.
Vaine mortals! while they striue their sense to

INORDINATE LOUE OF CREATURES. Endure a life worse than the worst disease : When sports and ryots of the restlesse night,

Au! who would loue a creature? who would place Breede dayes as thicke possest with fenny light: His heart, his treasure, in a thing so base? How oft have these (compellid by wholsome Which time consuming, like a moth destroyes, paine)

And stealing Death will rob him of bis joyes. Return'd to sucke sweet Nature's brest againe, Why lift we not our minds aboue this dust? And then could in a narrow compasse find

Haue we not yet perceiu'd that God is just, Strength for the body, clearenesse in the mind ? And hath ordaind the obiects of our loue And if Death come, it is not he whose dart, To be our scourges, when we wanton proue? Whose scalpe, and bones, afflict the trembling Go, carelesse man, in vaine delights proceed, heart :

Thy fansies and thine outward senses feede,


And bind thy selfe, thy fellow-seruant's thrall : And since he takes the throne of Louo exil'd,
Loue one too much, thou art a slaue to all. In all our letters he shall Loue be stil'd :
Consider when thou follow'st seeming good, But if true Loue vouchsafe againe bis sight,
And drown'st thy selfe too deepe in flesh and blood, No word of mine shall prejudice bis right :
Thou, making sute to dwell with woes and feares, So kings by caution with their rebels treate,
Art sworne their souldier in the vale of teares: As with free states, when they are growne ton
The bread of sorrow shall be thy repast,

great. Expect not Eden in a thorny waste,

If common drunkards onely can expresse Where grow no faire trees, no smooth riuers swell, To life the sad effects of their excesse: Here onely losses and afflictions dwell.

How can I write of Loue, who ncuer felt These thou bewaylist with a repining voyce, His dreadfull arrow, nor did euer melt Yet knew'st before that mortal was thy choyse. My heart away before a female flame, Admirers of false pleasures must sustaine

Like waxen statues, which the pitches frame ? The waight and sharpenesse of insuing paine. I must confesse, if I knew one that had

Bene poyson'd with this deadly draught, and mad,
And afterward in Bedlem well reclaym'd

To perfect sence, and in his wits not maym'd:

I would the feruour of my Muse restraine,

And let this subiect for his taske remaine : Sual. I stand still, and see the world on fire, But aged wand'rers sooner will declare While wanton writers joyne in one desire,

Their Eleusinian rites, than louers dare To blow the coales of loue, and make them burne, Renounce the Deuil's poinpe, and Christians die : Till they consume, or to the chaos turne

So much preuailes a painted idol's eye. This beauteous frame, by them so foully rent, Then since of them, like lewes, we can conuert That wise men feare, lest they those flames preuent, Scarce one in many yeeres, their iust desert, Which for the latest day th' Almightie keepes By selfe confession, neuer can appeare ; In orbes of fire, or in the hellish deepes?

But on presumptions wee proceed, and there Best wits, while they," possest with fury, thinke The iudge's innocence most credit winnes : They taste the Muses' sober well, and drinke True men trie theeues, and saints describe foule Of Phæbus' goblet, (now a starry signe)

sinnes. Mistake the cup, and write in heat of wine. This monster Loue hy day, and Lust by night, Then let my cold hand here some water cast, Is full of burning fire, but voyde of light, And drown their warmth with drops of sweeter Left here on Earth to keepe poore mortals out taste.

Of errour, who of hell-fire else would doubt. Mine angry lines shall whip the purblind page, Such is that wandring nightly flame, which lcades And some will reade them in a chaster age; Th' vnwary passenger, vntill he treades But since true love is most diuine, I know, His last step on the steepe and craggy walles How can I fight with loue, and call it so.

Of some high mountaine, whence he hcadlong Is it not loue? It was not now : (O strange!)

falles : Time and ill custome, workers of all change, A vapour first extracted from the stewes, Haue made it loue: men oft impose not names (Which with new fewell still the lampe renewes) By Adam's rule, but what their passion frames. And with a pandar's sulph'rous breath inflam'd, And since our childhood taught vs to approue Became a meteor, for destruction fram'd, Our fathers' words, we yeeld and call it loue. Like some prodigious comet which foretells Examples of past times our deeds should sway; Disasters to the realme on which it dwells. But we must speake the language of to day : And now hath this false light preuail'd so farre, Vse hath no bounds; it may prophane once more | That most obserue, it is a fixed starre, The name of God, wbich first an idoll bore. Yea as their load-starre, by whose beames impure How many titles, fit for meaner groomes,

They guide their ships, in courses not secure, Are knighted now, and marshal'd in high roomes ! Bewitcht and daz'led with the glaring sight and many, which once good and great were Of this proud fiend, attir'd in angels' liglit, thought,

Who still delights his darksome smoke to turno Posterity to vice and basenesse brought,

To rayes, which seeme t' enlighten, not to burne : As it hath this ef loue, and we must bow,

He leades them to the tree, and they beleeue As states vsurping tyrants' raignes allow,

The fruit is sweete, so he deluded Eue. And after ages reckon by their yeeres :

But when they once haue tasted of the feasts, Such force possession, though iniurious, beares: They quench that sparke, which seucrs men froin Or as a wrongfull title, or foule crime,

beasts, Made lawfull by a statute for the time,

And feele effects of our first parents' fall, With reu'rend estimation blindes our eies,

Depriu'd of reason, and to sence made thrall. And is call'd iust, in spight of all the wise. Thus is the miserable louer bound Then, hcau’nly Loue, this loathed name forsake, With fancies, and in fond affection drown'd. And some of thy more glorious titles take :

In him no faculty of man is seene, Sunne of the soule, cleare beauty, liuing fire, But when he sigbs a sopnet to his queene : Celestial light, which dost pure hearts inspire, This makes himn more than man, a poet fit While Lust, thy bastard brother, shal be knowne Por such false poets, as make passion wit. By Loue's wrong'd name, that louers may him Who lookes within an emptie caske, may see,

Where once a soule was, and againe may be, So oft with hereticks such tearmes we vse,

Which by this difference from a corse is knowne: As they can brooke, not such as we would chuse: One is in pow'r to haue life, both haue none:


for louers' slipp’ry soules (as they confesse,

And now he to his period brought, Without extending racke, or straining presse) Fron Loue becomes some other thought By transmigration to their mistresse How:

These lines I write not to remoue
Pithagoras instructs his schollers so,

Vnited soules from serious loue :
Who did for penance lustfull minds confine
To leade a second life in goates and swine.

The best attempts by mortals made,
Then loue is death, and drives the soule to dwell

Reflect on things which quickly fade;

Yet neuer will I men perswade
In this betraying harbour, which like Hell

To leaue affections, where may shing
Giues neuer backe her bootie, and containes
A thousand firebrands, whips, and restlesse paines :

Impressions of the Loue diuine.
And, which is worse, so bitter are those wheeles,
That many bells at once the louer feeles,
And hath his heart dissected into parts,
That it may meete with other double harts.

This lone stands neuer sure, it wants a ground, A SHEPHERDESSE, who long had kept her flocks
It makes no ordred co!irse, it finds no bound,

On stony Charnwood's dry and barren rocks, It aymes at nothing, it no comfort tastes,

In heate of summer to the vales declin'd, But while the pleasure and the passion lasts.

To seeke fresh pasture for her lambes halfe pin'd. Yet there are flames, which two hearts one can

She (while her charge was feeding) spent the houret make;

To gaze on sliding brookes and smiling Bowres. Not for th' affections, but the obiect's sake.

Thus hauing largely stray'd, she litts her sight, That burning glasse, where beames disperst incline

And viewes a palace full of glorious light. Vnto a point, and shoot forth in a line:

She finds the entrance open, and as bold This noble loue hath axeltrec and poles

As countrey maids, that would the court behold, Wherein it moues, and gets cternall goales : She makes an offer, yet agajne she stayes, These reuolutions, like the heau'nly spheres, And dares not dally with those sunny rayes. Make all the periods equall as the yeeres : And when this time of motion finisht is,

Here lay a nymph, of beauty most diuine,
It ends with that great yeere of endlesse blissc.

Whose happy presence caus'd the house to shine,
Who much conuerst with mortals, and could know
No honour truly high, that scornes the low:
For she had oft been present, though vaseene,

Among the shepherds' daughters on the greene,

Where eu'ry homebred swaine desires to proue

His oaten pipe and feet before his lone, Love is a region full fires,

And crownes the eu'ning, when the daies are long, And burning with extreme desires,

With some plaine dance, or with a rurall song. An obiect seekes, of which possest,

Nor were the women nice to hold this sport, The wheeles are fixt, the motions rest,

And please their louers in a modest sort. The flames in asbes lie opprest :

There that sweet nymph had seene this countrey This meteor, striuing high to rise,

dame (The fewell spent) falles downe and dies.

for singing crown'd, whence grew a world of fame

Among the sheepecotes, which in her reioyce, Much sweeter and more pure delights

And know no better pleasure than her voyce. Are drawne from fairé alluring sights,

The glitt'ring ladies, gather'd in a ring, When rauisht minds attempt to praise

Intreate the silly shepherdesse to sing : Commanding eyes, like heau'nly rayes ;

She blusht and sung, while they with words of Whose force the gentle heart obayes :

praise, Than where the end of this pretence

Contend her songs aboue their worth to raise. Descends to base inferiour sense.

Thus being cheard with many courteous signes, " Why then should louers" (most will say)

She takes her leaue, for now the Sunne declines,

And having driuen home her flocks againe,
Expect so much th' enioying day?"
Love is like youth, he thirsts for age,

She meets her loue, a simple shepherd swaine; He scornes to be his mother's page :

Yet in the plaines lie had a poet's name: But when proceeding times asswage

For he could roundelayes and carols frame, The former heate, he will complaine,

Which, when bis mistresse sung along the downes, And wish those pleasant houres againe.

Was thought celestiall musick by the clownes.

Of him she begs, that he would raise his mind We know that Hope and Loue are twinnes; To paint this lady, whom she found so kind : Hope gone, fruition now beginnes:

“ You oft," saith she, “haue in our homely bow'rs But what is this? Vnconstant, fraile,

Discours'd of demi-gods and greater pow'rs: In nothing sure, but sure to faile :

For you with Ilesiode sleeping learnt to know Which, if we lose it, we bewaile ;

The race diuine from Heau'n to Earth below." And when we have it, still we beare

“ My dear,” said he, “ the nymph whom thou The worst of passions, daily feare.

hast seene, When Loue thus in his center ends,

Most happy is of all that liue betweene Desire and Hope, his inward friends,

This globe and Cynthia, and in high estate,

Of wealth and beauty hath an equall mate,
Are shaken off: while Doubt and Griefe,
The weakest giuers of reliefe,

Whose loue hath drawne vncessant teares in foods,: Stand in his councell as the cbiefe :

From nymphs, that haunt the waters and the


Oft Iris to the ground baih bent her bow

First, England, crown'd with roses of the spring, To steale a kisse, and then away to goe:

An off'ring, like to Abel's gift, will bring : Yet all in vaine, he no affection knowcs

And rowes that sbe for thee alone will keepe
But to this goddesse, whom at first he chose : Her fastest lambes, and feeces of her sheepe.
Him she enioyes in mutuall bonds of loue :

Next, Scotland triumphs, that she bore and bred
Two hearts are taught in one small point to moue. This ile's delight, and, wearing on her head
Her father, high in honour and descent,

A wreath of lillies gather'd in the field,
Commands the Syluans on the northside Trent. Presents the min'rals which her mountaines yeeld.
He at this time, for pleasure and retreate,

Last, Ireland, like Terpsichore attir'd
Comes downe from Beluoir, bis ascending seate, With neuer-fading lawrell, and inspir'd
To which great Pan had lately honour done: By true Apollo's heat, a Pæan sings,
For there he lay, so did his hopefull sonne. And kindles zealous filames with siluer strings.
But when this lord by bis accesse desires

This day a sacrifice of praise requires,
To grace our dales, be to a house retires,

Our brests are altars, and our ioyes are fires. Whose walles are water'd with our siluer brookes, That sacred head, so soft, so strangely blest And makes the shepherds proud to view his lookes. | From bloody plots, was now (O feare!) deprest There in that blessed house you also saw

Beneath the water, and those sunlike beames
His lady, whose admired vertues draw

Were threat'ned to be quencht in narrow streames.
All hearts to loue her, and all tongues inuite Ab! who dare thinke, or can endure to beare,
*To praise that ayre where she vouchsafes her light of those sad dangers, wbich then seem'd so neare ?
And for thy further joy thine eyes were blest, What Pan would haue preseru'd our flocks' increase
To see another lady, in whose brest

From wolues. What Hermes could with words of
True wisdome hath with bounty equall place,

peace As modesty with beauty in her face.

Cause whetted swords to fall from angry hands,
She found me singing Florae's natiue dowres, And shine the starre of calmes in Chr stian lands?
And made me sing before the heau’nly pow'rs : But Thou, whose eye to bidden depths extends,
For which great fauour, till my voice be done, Tu shew that he was made for glorious ends,
I sing of her, and her thrice-noble sonne."

Hast rays'd him by thine all-cominanding arme,
Not onely safe from deatlı, but free from harme.








The world to morrow celebrates with mirth
The joyfull peace betweene the Heau'n and Earth:
To day let Britaine praise that rising light,
Whose titles her diuided parts vnite.
The time since safety triumph'd ouer feare,
Is now extended to the twenti'th yeere.
Thou happy yeere, with perfect number blest,
O slide as smooth and gentle as the rest :
That when the Sunne, dispersing from his head
The clouds of winter on his beauty spred,
Shall see his equinoctiall point againe,
And melt his dusky make to fruitfull raine,
He may be loth our climate to forsake,
And thence a patterne of such glory take,
That he would leave the zodiake, and desire
To dwell foreuer with our northerne fire.

Great king, the sou’raigne ruler of this land,
By whose grane care our hopes securely stand :
Since you, descending from that spacious reach,
Vouchsafe to be our master, and to teach
Your English poets to direct their lines,
To inixe their colours, and expresse their signes :
Forgiue my boldnesse, that I here present
The life of Muses yeelding true content
In ponder'd numbers, which with ease I try'd,
When your iudicious rules haue been my guide.

He makes sweet musick, who in scrious lines,
Light dancing tunes, and heany prose declines ,
When verses like a milky torrent flow,
They equall temper in the poet show.
He paints true forines, who with a modest heart
Giues lustre to his worke, yet couers art.
Vneuen swelling is no way to fame,
But solid ioyning of the perfect frame :
So that no curious finger there can find
The former chinkes, or nailes that fastly bind.
Yet most would have the knots of stitches secne,
And holes, where men may thrust their bands be.
On balting feet the ragged poem goes [tweeno
With accents, neither fitting verse nor prose:
The stile mine care with more contentment fills
In lawyers' pleadings, or phisicians' bills.
For though in termes of art their skill they close,
And ioy in darksome words as well as those :
They yet haue perfect seose more pure and cleare
Than enuious Muses, which sad garlands weare
Of dusky clouds, their strange conceits to hide
From humane eyes : and (lest they should be spi'a
By some sharpe (edipus) the English tongue
For this their poore ambition suffers wrong.


O GRACIOUS Maker! on whose smiles or frownes
Depends the fate of scepters and of crownes:
Whose hand not onely holds the hearts of kings,
But all their steps are shadow'd with thy wings,
To thee immortall thanks three sisters give,
For sauing bim, by whose deare life they liue.

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In eu'ry language now in Europe spoke

And gige such vigour in his childhood's state, By nations which the Roman empire broke, That he can strangle snakes, which swell with hate The rellish of the Muse consists in rime,

This conquest his vndaunted brest declares One verse must meete another like a chime. In seas of danger, in a world of care's : Our Saxon shortnesse hath peculiar grace

Yet neither cares oppresse his constant mind, In choise of words, fit for the ending place,

Nor dangers drowne his life for age desigu’d. Which leane impression in the mind as well The Muses loaue their sweet Castaliau springs As closing sounds, of some delightfull bell : In forme of bees, extending silken wings These must not be with disproportion lame, With gentle sounds, to keepe this infant still, Nor should an eccho still repeate the same. While they his mouth with pleasing hony fill. In many changes these may be exprest :

Hence those large streames of eloqnence proceed, But those that joyne most simply run the best : Which in the hearers strange amazement breed; Their forme surpassing farre the fetter'd staues, When laying by his scepters and his swords, Vaine care, and needlesse repetitiou sanes.

He melts their hearts with his mellifluous words. These ontward ashes keepe those inward fires, So Hercules in ancient pictures fain'd, Whose heate the Greeke and Roman works inspires: Could draw whole nations to his tongue enchain'd. Pure phrase, fit epithets, a sober care

He first considers, in his tender age, Of metaphors, descriptions cleare, yet rare, How God hath rays'd him on this earthly stage, Similitudes contracted, smooth and round,

To act a part, expos'd to eu'ry eye: Not vext by learning, but with nature crown'd. With Salomon he tierefore striues to flie Strong figures drawne from deepe inuentions springs, To him that gave this greatnesse, and demands Consisting lesse in words, and more in things : The precious gift of wisdome from his hands : A language not affecting ancient times,

While God, delighted with this just request, Nor Latine shreds, by which the pedant climes : Not onely him with wondrous prudence blest, A noble subiect which the mind may lift

But promis'd higher glories, new enorease To easie vse of that peculiar gift,

Of kingdomnes, circled with a ring of peace. Wbich poets in their raptures bold most deare, He, thus instructed by diuine commands, When actions by the liuely sound appeare.

Extends this peaceful line to other lands. Giue me such helpes, I never will despaire, When warres are threaten'd by shril trumpets' But that our heads which sucke the freezing aire,

sounds, As well as hotter brajnes, may verse adorne, His oline stancheth bloud, and binds vp wounds. And be their wonder, as we were their scorne. The Christian world this good from him deriues,

That thousands had vntinely spent their liues, ·
If not preseru'd by lustre of bis crowne,
Which calm'd the stormes, and layd the billuwes


And dimm'd the glory of that Roman wreath SOUERAIGNE LORD, KING IAMES. By souldiers gain’d for sauing men from death.

This Denmarke felt, and Swethland, when their strife Weepe, O ge nymphs ! that from your caues may Ascended to such height, that losse of life flow

Was counted nothing: for the dayly sight Those trickling drops, whence mighty rivers flow.

Of dying men made death no more than night. Disclose your hidden store: let eu'ry spring

Behold, two potent princes deepe engag'd To this our sea of griefe some tribute bring :

In seu'rall int'rests, mutually enrag'd And when ye once haue wept your fountaines dry,

By former conflicts : yet they downe will lay The Heau'o with showres will send a new supply.

Their swords, when his aduice directs the way. But if these clondy treasures prooue too scant, The northerne climates from dissention barr'd, Our teares shall helpe, when other moystures want. Receiue new joyes by his discreete award. This ile, nay Europe, nay the world, bewailes When Momus could, among the godlike-kings, Our losse, with such a streame as neuer failes.

Infect with poyson those immortall springs Abundant floods from eu'ry letter rise, (dies. Which flow with nectar; and such gall would cast, When we pronounce great James, our soueraigne, As spoyles the sweetnesse of ambrosiac's taste; And while I write these words, I trembling stand,

This mighty lord, as ruler of the quire, à sudden darknesse hath possest the land.

With peacefull counsels quencht the rising fire. I cannot now expresse my selfe by signes :

The Austrian arch-duke, and Batauian state, All eyes are blinded, none can reade my lines;

By his endeuours, change their long-bred hate . Till Charles ascending, driues away the vight, For twelue years' truce: this rest to him they owe, And in his splendour giues my verses light.

As Belgian shepherds and poore ploughmen know. Thus by the beames of his succeeding flame,

The Muscouites, opprest with neighbours, fie I shall describe his father's boundless fame.

To safe protection of vis watchfull eye. The Grecian emp rours gloried to be borne, And Germany his ready succours tries, And nurst in purple, by their parents worne. When sad contentions in the empire rise. See bere a king, whose birth together twines

His mild instinct all Christians thus discerne: The Britan, English, Norman, Scottish lines :

But Christ's malignant foes shall find him sterne. How like a princely throne his cradle stands; What care, what charge, he suffers to preuent, White diadems become his swathing bands.

Lest infidels their number should augment. His glory now makes all the Earth his tombe,

His ships restraine the pirates' bloody workes; But enuious fiends would in his mother's wombe

And Poland gaines bis ayde against the Turkes. Interre his rising greatnesse, and contend

His pow'rfull edicts, stretcht beyond the Line, Against the babe, whom heau’nly troopes defend, Among the Indians seu'rall bounds designe;


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