Sivut kuvina

serve that writers have many enemies, such inward | Give it Endimion's love, whose glorious eyes
assurance (methinks) resembles that forward con Darken the starry jewels of the skies!
fidence in men of armes, which makes them to Goe! dive into the southern sea! and when
proceed in great enterprise ; since the right exa Th’ast found (to trouble the nice sight of men)
mination of abilities begins with inquiring whether A swelling pearle, and such whose single worth
we doubt our selves.

Boast all the wonders which the seas bring forth,
WILL. DAVENANT. Give it Endimion's love; whose ev'ry teare

Would more enrich the skilful jeweller.
Cowes-castle, in the Isle of

How I command ! how slowly they obey ! Wight, October 22,

The churlish Tartar will not hunt to day: 1650.

Nor will that lazy, sallow Indian strive

To climbe the rock, nor that dull Negro dive.

Tbus poets, like to kings, (by trust deceiv'd)

Give oftener what is heard of, than receiv'd.

Faire as upshaded light, or as the day
In its first birth, when all the year was May;

Sweet as the altar's smoak, or as the new

Unfolded bud, sweld by the early dew;
Smooth as the face of waters first appear'd,

Call not the winds! nor bid the rivers stay!
Ere tides began to strive, or winds were heard ; For tho' the sighs, the teares, they could repay.
Kind as the willing saints, and calmer farre Which injur'd lovers, mourners for the dead,
Than in their sleeps forgiven hermits are:

Captives and saints have breath'd away and shed;
You, that are more than our discreter feare [here? Yet we should want to make our sorrow fit
Dares praise, with such full art, what make you For such a cause, as now doth silence it.
Here, where the Summer is so little scen, (green, Rutland! the noble and the just! whose name
That leaves (her cheapest wealth) scarce reach at Already is, all history, all fame!
You come, as if the silver planet were

W bom like brave ancestors in battaile lost,
Misled a while from her much injur'd sphere, We mention not in pity, but in boast!
And t' ease the travailes of her beames to night, How didst thou smile, to see the solemne sport,
In this small lanthorn would contract her light. Which vexe: busie greatness in the court ?

T'observe their lawes of faction, place, and time,
Their precepts how, and where, and when to climbe;
Their rules to know, if the sage meaning lies

In the deep breast, i' th' shallow brow, or eyes?

Tho' titles, and thy blood, made thee appeare

(Oft ’gainst thy ease) where these state-rabbins Beware (delighted poets !) when you sing,

Yet their philosophy thou knew'st was fit [were, To welcome Nature in the early spring,

For thee to pity, more than study it. Your num'rous feet not tread

Safely thou valu’dst cunning, as 't had been The banks of Avon ; for each powre

Wisdome, long since distemper'd into sin: (As it nere knew a Sun or showre)

And knew'st the actions of th'ambitious are Hangs there the pensive head.

But as the false alarines in running warre,

Like forlorne scouts (that raise the coyle) they keep Each tree, whose thick and spreading growth hath Themselves awake, to hinder others sleep: made

And all they gaine by vex'd expence of breath, Rather a night beneath the boughs than sbade, Unquietness, and guilt, is, at their death, (Unwilling now to grow)

Wonder and mighty noise; whilst things that be Jooks like the plume a captain weares,

Most deare and pretious to mortalitie, Whose rified falls are steppt i' th' teares

(Time, and thy self) impatient here of stay, Which from his last rage flow.

With a grave silence, seeme to steal away; The pitious river wept it self away

Depart from us unheard, and we still mourge Long since (alas !) to such a swift decay,

In vaine (though piously) for their returne. Tbat reach the inap, and look

Thy bounties if I name, I'le not admit, If you a river there can spie:

kings, when they love or wooe, to equall it : And for a river your inock'd eve

It shew'd like Nature's self, wben she doth bring
Will finde a shallow brooke.

All she can promise by an early spring ;
Or when she pays that promise where she best
Makes summers for mankind, in the rich East

And as the wise Sun silently imployes

His lib'ral beames, and ripens without noise ;

As precious dewes doe undiscover'd fall,

And growth insensibly doth steale on all;
Gos! bunt the whiter ermine! and present So what he gave, conceal'd in private came,
His wealthy skin, as this daye's tribute sent (As in the dark) from one that had no name;
To my Endimion's love; though she be fare Like fayrics' wealth, not given to restore,
More gently smooth, more soft thán ermines are ! Or if reveal’d, it visited no more.
Goe! climbe that rock! and when thou there hast If these live, and be read, (as who shall dare
A star, contracted in a diamond,

[found / Suspect, truth and thy fame immortall are?)



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What peed thy noble brother, or faire she,

Our mules are come! dissolve the club! That is thy self, in purest innagrie; [iame, The word, till term, is, “Rub, O rub!!” Whose breath, and eyes, the fun'rall spie, and Now gamster poor, in cloak of stammel, Continue still, of gentle Buckingham;

Mounted on steed, as slow as cammel, What ored they send poore pioners to grone,

Battoone of crab in luckless hand, In lower quarriss, for Corinthian stone ?

(Which serves for bilboe and for wand) To lig in Parian hills? since statues must,

Early in morne does sneak from town,
And monuments, turae like our selves to dust : Least landlord's wife should seise on crown;
Verse to all ages can our deeds declare,

On crown, wbich he in pouch does keep,
Tombs but a while show where our bodies are. When day is done, to pay for sleep ;

For he in journey nought does eat.
Host spies him come, cryes, “Sir, what meat?”

He calls for room, and down he lies.

Quoth host, “No supper, sir?" He cryes,

I eate no supper, fling on rug! The lark now leaves his watry nest,

I'm sick, d'you hear? yet bring a jug!” And, climbing, shakes his dewy wings;

Now damsel young, that dwels in Cheap, He takes this window for the east;

For very joy begins to leap: And to implore your light, he sings :

Her elbow small she oft does rub, Awake, awake! the Morn will never rise, Tickled with bope of sillabub! Till she can dress her beauty at your eics.

For mother (who does gold maintain

On thumbe, and keys in silver chaine) “ The merchant bowes onto the seaman's star,

In snow white clout, wrapt nook of pye, The ploughman from the Sun his season takes ;

Fat capon's wing, and rabbet's thigh, But still the lover wonders what they are,

And said to hackney coachman, Who look for day before his mistriss wakes.

Take shillings six, say I, or no." Awake, awake! break thro' your vailes of lawne !

“ Whither ?” says he. Quoth she, “ Thy teame Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawne.”

Shall drive to place where groweth creame."

But husband gray now comes so stall,
For prentice notch'd he straight does call :

“ Where's dame?" quoth he. Quoth son of shop, SONG.

“ She's gone her cake in milk to sop."

“ Ho, ho! to Islington! enough! THE SOULDIER GOING TO THE FIELD.

Fetch Job, my son, and our dog Roffe ! Preserve thy sighs, unthrifty girle !

For there in pond, through mire and muck, To purifie the ayre;

We'l cry, 'Hay, duck! there, Ruffe! bay, duck !! » Thy teares to thrid, instead of pearle,

Now Turnbal-dame, by starving paunch, On bracelets of thy hair.

Bates two stone weight in either haunch:
The trumpet makes the eccho hoarse,

On branne and liver she must dine,
And wakes the louder drum ;

And sits at dore instead of signe.
Expence of grief gajos no remorse,

She softly says to roaring Swash,
When sorrow should be dumb.

Who wears long whiskers, “Go, fetch cash!

There's gown,” quoth she, “speak broaker fair, For I must go where lazy Peace

Till term brings up weak countrey heir:
Will bide her drouzy head;

Whom kirtle red will much amaze,
And, for the sport of kings, encrease

Whilst clown b's man on signes does gaze, The number of the dead.

In liv'ry short, galloome on cape,
But first I'le chide thy cruel theft:

With cloak-bag mounting high as nape."
Can I in war delight,

Now man that trusts, with weary thighs,
Who being of my heart bereft,

Seeks garret where small poet lies :
Can have no heart to fight?

He comes to Lane, finds garret shut;
Thon know'st the sacred laws of old

Then, not with knuckle, but with foot,
Ordain'd a thief should pay,

He rudely thrusts, would enter dores;
To quit him of bis theft, seavenfold

Though poet sleeps not, yet he snores :
What he had stoln away.

Cit chafes like beast of Libia; then
Thy payment shall but double be;

Sweares, he'l not come or send agen. O then with speed resign

From little lump triangular My own seduced heart to me,

Poor poets' sighs are heard afar.

Quoth he, “ Do noble numbers choose
Accompani'd with thine.

To walk on feet, that have no shoose ?
Then he does wish with fervent breath,
And as his last request ere death,

Fach ode a bond, each madrigal,
THE LONG VACATION IN LONDON, A lease from Haberdashers' Hall,

Or that he had protected bin

At court, ia list of chamberlain;
Now town-wit sayes to witty friend,

For wights near Thrones care not an ace " Transcribe apace all thou hast pen'd;

For Woodstreet friend, that wieldeth mace. For I in journey hold it fit,

Courts pay no scores but when they list,
To cry thee up to cointrey-wit.

And treasurer still has cramp in fist;


And man in chimney hid to dress,
Puppit that acts our old queen Bess,
And man that whilst the puppits play,
Through nose expoundeth what they say
And man that does in chest include,
Old Sodom and Gomorrah lewd:
And white oate-eater that does dwell;
In stable small, at sign of Bell :
That lift up hoofe to show the prancks,
Taught by magitian, stiled Banks;
And ape, led captive still in chaine,
Till he renounce the pope and Spaine.
All these on hoof now trudge from town,
To cheat poor turnep-eating clown.

Now man of war with visage red,
Growes chollerick and sweares for bread.
He sendeth note to man of kin,
But man leaves word, “ l'on not within.",
He meets in street with friend call'd Will;
And cryes“ Old rogue! what living still?”
But er that street they quite are past,
He softly asks, " What money hast?”
Quoth friend, “A crown!” he cryes,
O base, no more, sweet, lend me part!”

But stay my frighted pen is Aed; My self through fear creep under bed; For just as Muse would scribble more, Fierce city dunne did rap at door.


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“ Dear heart!



Then forth be steales; to Globe does run;
And smiles, and vowes fous acts are done :
Finis to bring he does protest,
Tells ev'ry play'r his part is best.
And all to get (as poets use)
Some coy :e in pouche to solace Muse.

Now wight that acts on stage of Bull,
In skullers bark does lie at Hull,
Which he for pennies two does rig,
All day on Thames to bob for grig:
Whilst fencer poor docs by him stand,
In ohi dung-lighter, hook in hand;
Between knees rod, with canvas crib,
To girdle tide, close.under rib;
Where worms are put, which must small fish
Betray at night to earthen dish.

Now London's chief, on sadle new,
Rides into fare of Bartholemew :
He twirles his chain, and looketh big,
As if to fright the head of pig,
That gaping lies on greasy stall,
Till finale with great belly call.

Now aiderinan in field does stand,
With foot on trig, a quoit in hand:
“ I'm seaven," quoth he," the game is up!
Nothing I pay, and yet I sup.”
To alderinan quoth neighbour then,
“ I lost but mutton, play for hen.”
But wealthy blade cryes out, “ At rate
Of kings, should'st play! lets go, tis late.”
Now lean atturney, that his cheese
Ne'r pard, nor verses took for fees;
And aged proctor, that controules
The feats of punck in court of Paul's;
Do each with solemn oath agree
To meet in fields of Finsbury:
With loynes in canvas bow case tyde,
Where arrows stick with mickle pride;
With hats pinn'd up, and bow in hand,
All day most fiercely there they stand;
Like ghosts of Adam, Bell, and Clymme:
Sol sets for fear they'l shoot at him.

Now Spyuie, Ralph, and Gregorie small, And short hayr'd Stephen, whay-fac'd Paul, (Whose times are ont, indentures torn) Who seaven long years did never skorne, To fetch up coales for maid to use, Wipe inistresses', and children's shooes) Do jump for joy they are made free; Hire meagre steeds, to ride and see, Their parents old who dwell as near, As place call's Peake in Derby-shire. There they alight, old croanes are milde; Each weeps on cragg of pretty childe: They portions give, trades up to set, That babes may live, serve God and cheat,

Near house of law by Temple-Bar, Now man of mace cares not how far, In stockings blew he marcheth on, With velvet cape his cloack upon; In girdle, scrowles, where names of some, Are written down, whom touch of thumbe, On shoulder left must safe convoy, Anoying wights with name of roy. Poor prisner's friend that sees the touch, Cries out, aloud,“ I thought as much."

Now vaulter good, and dancing lass, On rope, and may that cryes“ Hey, pass,” And tumbler young that needs but stoop, Lay head to heel to creep through hoope;

No victor, when in battel spent,

When he at night asleep doth lie, Rich in a conquer'd monarch's tent,

Ere had so vaine a dreame as I. Me-thought I saw the early'st shade,

And sweetest that the spring can spread; Of jęsmyn, bry’re, and woodbine made,

And there I saw Clorinda dead. Though dead she lay, yet could I see

No cypress nor no mourning ewe; Nor yet the injur'd lover's tree;

No willow near her coffin grew. But all shew'd unconcern'd to be;

As if just Nature there did strive To seem as pittiless as she

Was to her lover when alive, And now methought I lost all care

In losing her; and was as free As birds let loose into the ayre,

Or rivers that are got to sea. Methought love's monarchy was gone;

And whilst elective numbers sway Our choice, and change makes pow'r our own,

And those court us whom we obey. Yet soon, now from my princess free,

I rather frantick grew than glad: For subjects, getting liberty,

Got but a licence to be mad. Birds that are long in cages aw'd,

If they get out, a while will roame, But straight want skill to live abroad.

Then pine and hover near their home.


And to the ocean rivers run

From being pent in banks of flowers, Not knowing that th' exhaling Sun

Will send them back in weeping showers. Soon thus for pride of liberty

I low desires of bondage found; And vanity of being free,

Bred the discretion to be bound. But as dúll subjects see too late

Their safety in monarchal reign, Finding their freedome in a state

Is but proud strutting in a chaine.
Then growing wiser, when undone,

In winter's nights sad stories sing
In praise of monarchs long since gone,

To whom their bells they yearly ring.
So now I'mourn'd that she was dead,

Whose single pow'r did govern me,
And quickly was by reason led

To find the harm of liberty.
In love's free state where many sway,

Number to change our hearts prepares,
And but one fetter takes away,

To lay a world of handsome snares. And I, love's secretary now,

(Ray'd in my dreame to that grave stile) The dangers of love's state to showe,

Wrote to the lovers of this isle. For lovers correspond, and each,

Though, states-man like, he th' other hate, Yet slily one another teach

By civil love to save the state. And as in interreigne men draw

Pow'r to themselves of doing right, When generous reason, not the law,

They think restraines their appetite:

Fiven so the lovers of this land

(Love's empire in Clorinda gone) Thought they were quit from love's command,

And beautie's world was all their own. But lovers (who are Nature's best

Old subjects) never long revolt; They soon in passions' warr contest;

Yet in their march soon make a halt.
And those (when by my inandates brought

Near dead Clorinda) ceast to boast
Of freedome found, and wept for thought

Of their delightful bondage lost.
And now the day to night was turn’d,

Or sadly night's close mourning wore ; All maids for one another mourn’d,

That lovers now could love no more. All lovers quickly did perceive

They had on Earth no more to doe; But civilly to take their leave

As worthys that to dying goe. And now all quires her dirges sing;

lo shades of cypress, and of ewe; The bells of ev'ry temple ring,

Where maids their wither'd garlands strew. To such extreames did sorrow rise

That it transcended speech and forme;
And was so lost to eares and eyes

As seamen sinking in a storme.
My soul, in sleep's soft fetters bound,

Did now for vital freedome strive;
And straight, by horrour wak't, I found

The fair Clorinda still alive. Yet she's to me but such a light

As are the stars to those who know We can at most but guess their height,

And hope they minde us here below.

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