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Ponders how bright the orbes doe move, And thence how much more bright the Heav'ns
Where on the heads of cherubins [above, Th’Almightie sits, disdaining our bold sinnes :
Who, while on th’Earth we groveling lye, Dare in our pride of building teinpt the skie.
VXIVERSUM STATUM EJUS VERSASTI IN INFIRMITATE
My soule! when thou and I
An endlesse sad divorce:
How wilt thou then, that art My rationall and nobler part, Distort thy thoughts? How wilt thou try To draw from weake philosophie Some strength: and Batter thy poore state,
'Cause 'tis the common fate?
How will thy spirits pant
Yet whether, who can know?
How fond and idle then
When thus we ebbe away?
But how shall I (that is,
Finde none, but what must kill ?
Which way so ere my griefe
Will represent a tombe.
And while my children's teares, My wive's vaine hopes, but certaine feares, And councells of divines advance Death in each dolefull circumstance: I shall even a sad mourner be
At my owne obsequie.
For by examples I
We once had life, decay.
Wbich your cælestiall flight denyed :
The winged hierarchie,
Inebriates with delight !
In a loud symphonie :
Who daign'd to elevate
With which we troubled are
Here in this world we breath,
Or that it may seeme good,
And layes a siege so streight,
For ever hath the mind
Our mindes to thinke his praise,
To speake him infinite,
His name may celebrate
To his perpetuall light,
And only strdie arts
For hymnes, repentant teares,
QUI QUASI FLOS EGREDITUR.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, THE
LADY CAT. T.' Faire madam! You May see what's man in yond' bright rose. Though it the wealth of Nature owes,
It is opprest, and bends with dew.
Which showes, though fate
It will our pride with teares abate.
Poore silly flowre! Though in thy beauty thou presume, And breath which doth the spring prefume;
Thou may'st be cropt this very houre,
LAUDATE DOMINUM DE GELIS.
You spirits ! who have throwne away
That enveous Feight of clay,
And though it may
Each small tempest shakes the proud; Then thy good fortune be, to rest
Whose large branches vainely sprout O'th' pillow of some ladie's brest;
'Bove the measure of the roote. Thou’lt wither, and be throwne away.
But let stormes speake nere so loud, For 'tis thy doome
And th' astonisht day benight; However, that there shall appeare
Yet the just shines in a light No memory that thou grew'st heere,
Faire as noone without a cloud.
But flesh is loath
DEUS DEUS MEUS. "Proud in the triumphes of its growth.
DAVID And tamely can
Where is that foole philosophie, Behold this mighty world decay
That bedlam reason, and that beast dull senee; And weare by th' age of time away:
Great God! when I consider thee, Yet not discourse the fall of man.
Omnipotent, æternall, and imens ? But madam these
Vnmov'd thou didst behold the pride Are thougbts to cure sicke humane pride,
Of th' angels, when they to defection fell? And med'cines are in vaine applyed,
And without passion Jidst provide To bodies far 'bove all disease.
To punish treason, rackes and death in bell.
Thy word created this great all,
I'th' lower part whereof we wage such warres :
The upper bright and sphæricall Safe from the ruines of our fate,
By purer bodies tenanted, the starres. By vertue's great preservative.
And though sixe dayes it thee did please And though we see
To build this frame, the seventh for rest to assigne; Beautie enough to warme each heart;
Yet was it not thy paine or ease, Yet you by a chaste chimicke art,
But to teach man the quantities of time.
This world so mighty and so faire,
If to thee God we should compare,
Is not the slender'st atome to the Sun.
What then am I poore nothing mau ! SWELL no more, proud man, so high!
That elevate my voyce and speake of thee! For enthron'd where ere you sit,
Since no imagination can Rais'd by fortune, sinne and wit:
Distinguish part of thy immensitie? In a vault thou dust must lye.
What an ) who dare call thee God ! He who's lifted up by vice
And raise my fancie to discourse thy power! Hath a neighb'ring precipice
To whom dust is the period, Dazeling his distorted eye.
Who am not sure to farme this very houre?
For how know I the latest sand Shallow is that unsafe sca
In my fraile glasse of life, doth not now fall? Over which you spread your saile:
And while I thus astonisht stand And the barke you trust to, fraile
I but prepare for my owne funerall ? As the winds it must obey.
Death doth with man no order keepe: Mischiefe, while it prospers, brings
It reckons not by the expence of yeares. Favour from the smile of kings,
But makes the queene and beggar weepe, Vseless soone is throwne away.
And nere distinguishes betweene their teares. Profit, though sinne it extort,
He who the victory doth gaine Princes even accounted good,
Falls as he him pursues, who from him figes, Courting greatnesse nere withstood,
And is by too good fortune slaine. Since it empire doth support.
The lover in his amorous courtship dyes. But when death makes them repent,
The states-man suddenly expires They condemne the instrument,
While he for others ruine doth prepare : And are thought religious for't.
And the gay lady while sh’admires Pitch'd downe from that height you beare,
Her pride, and curles in wanton nets her haire. How distracted will you lye ;
No state of man is fortified When your fiattering clients flye
'Gainst the assault of th’universall doome: As your fate infectious were ?
But who th' Almighty feare, deride
Pale Death, and meet with triumph in the tomber
QUONIAM EGO IN FLAGELLA PARATUS SUM.
Fix me on some bleake precipice,
Where I ten thousaud yeares may stand: Though in practise, and the time
Made now a statue of ice, Purchase wit at your expence.
Then by the sommer scorcht and tan'd:
Place me alone in some fraile boate Mid th' horrours of an angry sea :
Where I, while time shall move, may dogte, Despairing either land or day!
Or under earth my youth confine To th' night and silence of a cell:
Where scorpions may my limbes entwine. O God! So thou forgive me Hell.
Æternitie! when I thinke thee, (Which never any end must have,
Nor knew'st beginning) and fore-see Hell is design'd for sinnc a grave.
My frighted Alesh trembles to dust, My blood ebbes fearefully away :
Both guilty that they did to lust And vanity, my youth betray.
My eyes, which from each beautious sight Drew spider-like blacke venome in:
Close like the marigold at night Opprest with dew to bath my sin.
My eares shut up that easie dore Which did proud fallacies admit:
And vow to bear no follies more ; Deafe to the charmes of sinne and wit.
My hands (which when they toucht some faire Imagin'd such an excellence,
As th' ermine's skin ungentle werc) Contract themselves, and loose all sence.
But you bold sinners ! still pursue Your valiant wickednesse, and brave
Th’ Almighty justice : hee'le subdue And make you cowards in the grave.
Then when he as your judge appeares, la vaine you'le tremble and lament.
And hope to soften him with teares, To no advantage penitent.
Then will you scorne those treasures, which So fiercely now you doate upon:
Then curse those pleasures did bewitch
shall Wooe to oppresse you with their weight:
Disdainefull will deny to fall; By a sad death to ease your fate.
In vaine some midnight storme at sea To swallow you, you will desire :
In'vaine upon the wheele youle pray Broken with torments to expire.
Death, at the sight of which you start, In a mad fury then you'le court :
Yet hate th' expressions of your heart, Which onely shall be sigh'd for sport.
No sorrow then shall enter in With pitty the great judges eares. This moment's ours.
Once dead, his sin Man cannot expiate with teares.
To fall in love with danger), :that now drawes
staid Great mindes resolv'd for action, and betraid You to a glorious ease: since to the warre Men by desire of prey invited are, Whom either sinne or want makes desperato Or else disdaine of their own narrow fate, But you nor hope of fame or a release Of the most sober goverment in peace, Did to the hazard of the armie bring Onely a pure devotion to the king, In whose just cause whoever fights, must be Triumphant: since even death is victory. And what is life, that we to wither it To a weake wrinckled age, should torture wit To finde ont Nature's secrets; what doth length Of time deserve, if we want heate and strength? When a brave quarrell doth to armes provoke Why should we feare to venter this thin smoke, This emptie shadow, life? this which the wise As the foole's idoll, soberly despise ? Why should we not throw willingly away A game we cannot save, now that we may Gaine honour by the gift? since haply when We onely shall be statue of men And our owne monuments, peace will deny Our wretched age so brave a cause to dye. But these are thoughts! And action tis doth give A soule to courage, and make vertue live: Which doth not dwell upon the valiant tongue Of bold philosophie, but in the strong Vndaunted spirit, which encounters those Sad dangers, we to fancie scarce propose, Yet 'tis tbe true and highest fortitude To keepe our inward enemies subdued: Not to perinit our passions oper sway Our actions, not our wanton flesh betray The soule's chaste empire: for however we To th' outward shew may gaine a victory And proudly triumph: if to conquour siqne , We combate not, we are at warre within. :
On that false ground I joy'd to tread
But th' humble man heaves up his head Which seem'd most faire,
Like some rich vale Though every path had a new snare,
Whose fruites nere faile And every turning still did lead,
With flowres, with corne, and vines ore-spread. 'To the darke region of the dead.
Nor doth complaine But with the surfet of delight
Oreflowed by an ill season d raine I am so tyred
Or batter'd by a storme of haile. That now I loatb what I adinired.
Like a tall barke with treasure fraught And my distasted appetite
He the seas cleere So 'bhors the meate, it hates the sight.
Doth quiet steere : For should we naked sinne discry
But when they are ta tempest wrought; Not beautified
More gallantly By th' ayde of wantonnesse ani pride
He spreads his saile, and doth more high Like some mishapen birth 'twould lye
By swelling of the waves, appeare. A torment to th' affrighted eye.
For the Almighty joyes to force But cloath'd in beauty and respect,
The glorious tide Even ore the wise,
Of humane pride How powerfull doth it tyrannize!
To th' lowest ebbe; that ore his course Whose monstrous forme should they detract
(Which rudely bore They famine sooner would affect.
Downe what oppos'd it heretofore) And since those shadowes which oppresse
His feeblest enemie may stride. My sight begin
But from bis ill-thatcht roofe he brings To clecre, and show the shape of sinne,
The cottager A scorpion sooner be my guest,
And doth preferre And warme his venome in my brest.
Him to th' adored state of kings :
He bids that hand
Which labour hath made rough and tand Be throwne off as a scorne to men?
The all commanding scepter beare. May th' angry world decree, t'excile
Let then the mighty cease to boast Me to some yet unpeopled isle.
Their boundlesse sway:
Since in their sea Where while I straggle, and in vaine
Few sayle, but by some storme are lost. Labour to finde
Let them themselves Some creature that shall have a minde,
Beware for they are their owne shelves: What justice have 1 to complaine
Man still himselfe hath cast away.
Thy comfort thence :
SYPNEAME Divinitie ! To be e'steem'd a solitude.
Could ever finde Cast me upon some naked shore
By the bold scrutinie of wit, Where I may tracke
The treasurie where thou lock'st up the wind ? Onely the print of some sad wracke:
What majesty of princes can If thou be there, though the seas roare,
A tempest awe ; I shall no gentler calme implore.
When the distracted Ocean Should the Cyınmerians, whom no ray
Swells to sedition, and obeys no law? Doth ere enlight,
How wretched doth the tyrant stand But gaine thy grace, th' have lost their nigbt:
Without a boast ? Not sinners at bigh noone, but they
When his rich fecte even touching land 'Mong their blind cloudes have found the day.
He by some storme in his owne port sees lost ! Vaine pompe of life! what narrow bound
Is circled with ? How false a groupd How cheerefully th' unpartiall Sunne
Hath humane pride to build its triumphs 007 Gilds with his beames The narrow streames
And Nature how dost thou delude
Our search to know? O'th' brooke which silently doth runne
When the same windes which here intrude Without a pame? And yet disdaines to lend his fianne
On us with fiosts and onely winter blow: To the wide channell of the Thanies?
Breath temprate on th' adjoyning earth, The largest mountaines barreo lye
And gently bring And lightning fcare,
To the glad field a fruitfull birth 'Though they appeare
With all the treasures of a wanton spring. To bid defiance to the skie;
How diversly death doth assaile;
How sporting kill?
The other is congeald o'th' neighboring bill.
ET EXALTAVIT HUMILES.
COGITABO PRO PECCATO MEO.
While he with heates, doth dying glow
RECOGITABO TIBI OMNES ANNOS MEOS. The other hedg'd in with his snow
ISAY. And envies him his ice, although he freeze. Time! where didst thou those yeares inter Proud folly of pretending art,
Which I have scene decease? Be ever dumbe.
My soule's at war and truth bids her And bumble thy aspiring heart,
Finde out their hidden sepulcher, When thou findest glorious reason overcome.
To give her troubles peace.
Pregnant with flowers doth not the spring And you astrologers, whose eye
Like a late bride appeare? Survayes the starres !
Whose fether'd musicke onely bring And offer thence to prophesie:
Caresses, and no requiem sing Successe in peace, and the event of warres. On the departed yeare? Throw downe your eyes upon that dust
The earth, like some rich wanton heire, You proudly tread!
Whose parents coffin'd lye, And know to chat resolve you must!
Forgets it once lookt pale and bare
As the spring nere should dye.
Reflects not on the last ;
T'account my life each moment call,
And onely weepe the past. Profao'd by no unholy love,
My mem'ry trackes each severall way Where witty melancholy nere
Since reason did begin Did carve the trees or wound the ayre,
Over my actions her first sway: Shall I religious leisure winne,
And teacheth me that each new day To weepe away my sinne?
Did onely vary sin. How fondly have I spent
Poore banckrout conscience! where are those My youthe's unvalued treasure, lent
Rich houres but farm'd to thee? To trallique for cælestiall joyes,
How carelessely I some did lose, My unripe yeares pursuing toges,
And other to my lust dispose, Iudging things best that were most gay,
As no rent day should be? Fled unobserv'd away.
I have infected with impure
Disorders my past yeares. Growne elder I admired
But ile to penitence inure Our poets as from Heaven inspired,
Those that succeed. There is no cure
Nor antidote but teares.
The soule which doth with God unite, I offer'd to my mistresse' eyes,
Those gayities how doth she slight
Which ore opinion sway ?
Like sacred virgin wax, which shines
On altars or on martyrs' shrines But growne more polliticke
How doth she burne away? I tooke account of each state tricke:
How violent are her throwes till she Observ'd each motion, judg'd him wise,
From envious earth delivered be,
Which doth her fight restraine?
On fires and the so dreaded axe,
And every murd'ring paine?
How soone she leaves the pride of wealth,
The flatteries of youth and health How fraile is life, how vaine a breath
And fame's more precious breath.
And every gaudy circumstance
That doth the pompe of life advance
At the approach of death? How a shrill trumpet shall
The cunning of astrologers Vs to the barre as traytors call.
Observes each motion of the starres Then shall we see too late that pride
Placing all knowledge there : Hath hope with flattery bely'd
And lovers in their niistresse' eyes And that the mighty in command
Contract those wonders of the skies,
And seeke no higher sphere.