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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.




My soule! when thou and I
Shall on our frighted death-bed lie,
Each moment watching when pale Death
Shall snatch away our latest breath,
And 'tweene two long joyn'd lovers force

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
And tremble when they feele the want
Of th' usuall organs, and that all
The vitall powers begin to fall ?
When 'uis decreed, that thou must goe,

Yet whether, who can know?

How fond and idle then
Will seeme the misteries of men ?
How like some dull ill-acted part
The subtlest of proud humane art?
How shallow evin the deepest sea,

When thus we ebbe away?

But how shall I (that is,
My fainting earıh) looke pale at this?
Disjointed on the racke of paine.
How shall I murmur, how complaine,
And craving all the ayde of skill,

Finde none, but what must kill ?

Which way so ere my griefe
Doth throw my sight to court releefe,
I shall but meete despaire ; for all
Will prophesie my funerall:
The very silence of the roome

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
Must know that others' sorrowes dye
Soone as our selves, and none survive
To keepe our memories alive.
· Even our fals tombes, as loath to say

We once had life, decay.

Wbich your cælestiall flight denyed :
Who by your glorious troopes supply

The winged hierarchie,
So broken in the angells' pride!
O you! whom your Creator's sight

Inebriates with delight !
Sing forth the triumphs of his name,
All you enamor'd soules ! agree

In a loud symphonie :
To give expressions to your fame!
To bim, his owne great workes relate,

Who daign'd to elevate
You 'bove the frajltje of your birth :
Where you stand safe from that rude warre,

With which we troubled are
By the rebellion of our earth.
While a corrupted ayre beneath

Here in this world we breath,
Each houre some passion us assailes :
Now lust casts wild-fire in the blood,

Or that it may seeme good,
It selfe in wit or beauty vailes.
Then envie circles us with hate,

And layes a siege so streight,
No heavenly succour enters in :
But if revenge admittance finde,

For ever hath the mind
Made forfeit of itselfe to sinne.
Assaulted thus, how dare we raise

Our mindes to thinke his praise,
Who is æternall and immens?
How dare we force our feeble wit

To speake him infinite,
So farre above the search of sence?
O you ! who are immaculate

His name may celebrate
In your soules' bright expansion.
You whom your vertues did unite

To his perpetuall light,
That even with him you now shine one.
While we who tearth contract our bearts,

And only strdie arts
To shorten the sad length of time:
In place of joyes bring humble feares :

For hymnes, repentant teares,
And a new sigh for every crime.



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
May promise still to warme our lippes,
And keepe our eyes from an ecclips;

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,



You spirits ! who have throwne away

That enveous Feight of clay,

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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.
Ere the tempestuous winter come.

But flesh is loath
By meditation to fore see
How loath'd a nothing it must be:

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,
For you so live
As th' angels in one perfect state;

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.
Calcine fraile love to pietie.

This world so mighty and so faire,
So 'bove the reach of all dimension :

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
When of all th' obsequious throng

Pale Death, and meet with triumph in the tomber
That mov'd by your eye and tongue
None shall in the storme appeare?
When that abject insolence
(Which submits to the more great,

And disdaines the weaker state,
As misfortune were offence)

Fix me on some bleake precipice,
Shall at court be judged a crime

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:


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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
You to this sad illusion.
The neigh'ring mountaines which you

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
You to the fate of warre; it claimes applause :
And every worthy hand would plucke a bough
From the best spreading bay, to shade your brow.,
Since you unforc'd part from your ladie's bed
Warme with the purest love, to lay your head
Perhaps on some rude turfe, and sadly feele
The night's cold dampes wrapt in a sheete of steele.
You leave your well grown woods; and meadows

Our Severne doth with fruitfull streames enrich,
Your woods where we see such large heards of deere,
Your meades whereon such goodly Pockes appeare.
You leave your castle, safe both for defence
And sweetly wanton with magnificence
With all the cost and cunning beautified.
That addes to state, where nothing wants but pride.
These charmes might have bin pow'rful to have

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. :

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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
May I before I grow so vile
By sinne agen,

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.
If I thy inward grace retaine?
My God, if thou shalt not exclude

Thy comfort thence :
What place can seeme to troubled sence

So melancholly darke and rude,

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;
Which in one houre

How sporting kill?
W' have seene the opening earth devoure While one is scorcht up in the vale
When in their height they proudest were.

The other is congeald o'th' neighboring bill.

Who yet



While he with heates, doth dying glow
Abore he sees

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
That is the scheme where all their fate may read. And doth for vanities prepare,

As the spring nere should dye.
The present houre, fattered by all

Reflects not on the last ;
But I, like a sad factor shall

T'account my life each moment call,
Is what darke silent grove

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
What obeliskes decreed I fit

Nor antidote but teares.
For Spencer's art, and Sydnye's wit?
But waxing sober soone I found
Fame but an idle sound.
Then I my blood obey'd

And each bright face an idoll made:
Verse in an humble sacrifice,

The soule which doth with God unite, I offer'd to my mistresse' eyes,

Those gayities how doth she slight

Which ore opinion sway ?
But I no sooner grace did win
But met the devill within.

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,
Who had a conscience fit to rise.

Which doth her fight restraine?
Whom soone I found but forine and rule How doth she doate on whips and rackes,
And the more serious foole.

On fires and the so dreaded axe,

And every murd'ring paine?
But now my soule prepare
To ponder what and where we are,

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.
Opinion, how uncertaine death :

And every gaudy circumstance
How onely a poore stone shall beare
Witnesse that once we were.

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,
Pale cowards there must stand.

And seeke no higher sphere.
I i



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