Poems upon several occasions by Daniel Baker ... Baker, Daniel, 1653 or 4-1723. 1697 Approx. 137 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 85 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A29657 Wing B489A ESTC R209048 12015298 ocm 12015298 52514

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A29657) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 52514) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 81:1 or 2452:5) Poems upon several occasions by Daniel Baker ... Baker, Daniel, 1653 or 4-1723. [6], 160 p. Printed for J. Jones ..., London : 1697. The "Pindarique odes" include "Virgilius evangelizans, a poem upon Christmas-day" and "Hicathrift", each with special t.p. Reproduction of original in the British Library and the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, University of California, Los Angeles, California..

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POEMS UPON Several Occasions.

By DANIEL BAKER, M. A. Sometimes of Gonvil and Caius Coll. in CAMBRIDGE.

Virgil. Eclog. 9. —Me quoque dicunt Vatem Pastores; sed non ego credulus illis.

LONDON, Printed for I. Iones, at the Dolphin and Crown in S. Paul's Church-yard. 1697.

To the Honourable Sir RALPH HARE, OF STOW-HALL IN THE County of Norfolk, BARONET; These Poems ARE Most Humbly Dedicated, BY HIS Most Obliged and most Obedient Servant,

DAN. BAKER.
THE CONTENTS. Page 1. 2 4 6 10 15 17 18 20 25 28 30 32 34 37 39 43 45 47 48 50 53 57 61 67 75 80 83 89 97 117 119 121 135 142 153 159
MISCELLANIES AND Translations.
On Mr. Abraham Cowley's WORKS. I. THE British Land in former Time Was thought too phlegmatick a Clime, Too cold for Verse to thrive and grow On such a heavy Soil: But now, Nor Greece may boast; nor Rome that she Surpasses her in Poetry. II. Homer and Virgil lately were, 'Til Cowley rose, the famous Pair: But him they gladly now admit, To the Triumvirate of Wit, And grant, that tho' the Younger, yet His Praise, the Poet's Wealth's as great. III. These mighty Three so well are joyn'd, 'Twould pose the wisest Judge to find Which of them all does most excel In Honour's strife. But more to tell What happy Realm shall raise a Fourth To equal Fame, by equal Worth.
The Retreat. I. PArdon me Friend, that I so soon Forsake this great tumultuous Town. And on the sudden hasten down; II. That I Preferment court no more, But all my Hopes and Cares give o'er While I'm Young, and while I'm Poor. III. My self no longer I'll deprive Of those kind Minutes Heav'n does give. No Man makes haste enough to live. IV. Let them stay longer who desire Above their Father's Wealth t'aspire, And raise their Names and Fortunes higher. V. That are content to cringe and bow, To flatter, bribe, and wait; for so Preferment must be bought, you know. VI. Give me free Nature's solid Goods Open Fields, and secret Woods, Healthful Hills, and crystal Floods. VII. A small, but sprucely furnish'd House, A Garden for Delight and Use, A learned Friend, and gentle Muse. VIII. Nights full of Sleep, Days void of Strife, And to compleat this heav'nly Life, An humble, cheerful, country Wife. IX. Thus, oh! thus let me obscurely lie! Thus let my wel-spent Hours slide by! Thus let me live! thus let me die!
Out of Horace. Carmin. Lib. 2. Od. 8. Ulla si juris, &c. IF ever this thy frequent breach of Oath Had punish'd been with one black Tooth, If but one Nail, or Hair of thine had bin Less smooth or curled for thy Sin, I would believe the Gods above take Care To punish such as do forswear. But thou, as soon as black false Oaths thou'st swore, Shin'st out far brighter than before (Like the Sun breaking from a Cloud) and art The only Care of every Heart. It mends thy Beauty, thine own Mothers Grave To violate, and her Ghost deceive; To make the Stars of Heav'n avouch thy lies, And e'en the immortal Deities. Venus her self laughs and her Nymphs at this A sport to cruel Love it is, Who makes thy faithless Vows serve for a Stone To whet his bloody Darts upon. Nay, all the Youth, (poor ign'rant Tribe) for thee Grows up a new Captivity: Nor have we (tho' we threaten it oft) the Power, Old Fools! to leave thy wicked Door. Thee for her Sons the careful Mother fears, And cov'tous old Men for their Heir • ; And poor young Women, lest thy pow'rful Charms Should draw their Husbands from their tender Arms.
Out of Horace. Carm. Lib. 3. Od. 11. Mercuri, nam te, &c. I. FAir Maia's Son (for by thy learned Art Amphion e'en hard Stones did move) Appease the stubborn Anger of my Love, And move her harder Heart. II. And thou, my Musick which in former Years Wast a poor dumb neglected thing; But now in Churches, and at Feasts dost Sing, Charm, charm her sullen Ears. II. Who, like a Fillie in the flow'ry Mead, Runs up and down, and won't be caught, Unripe for Marri'ge yet, she wont be brought Unto the genial Bed. IV. Swift Tygers thou, and Woods canst draw along, And rowling Rivers canst recall: The Surly Porter of the infernal Hall Submitted to thy Song; V. Ev'n Cerberus, tho about his monstrous Head An Hundred Hellish Serpents crawl And from his Triple Mouth black Foams does fall, And poisnous Breath is shed. VI. Thou mad'st Ixion 'gainst his Will to smile, And Tityus laugh amidst his Pains, While Danau's Daughters listen'd to thy Strains, Their Tubs stood drie a while. VII. O tell my Love what cruel Pains attend, Hard-hearted Maids in Hell: Bid her by what these wicked Maids befel, Take warning and amend. VIII. O wicked Maids! what more can hellish spight Than Women do? with bloody Knives They rip'd their Bridegrooms Breasts, and spilt their Lives Upon the Wedding Night. IX. But one of Fifty with a virtuous Life Her perjur'd Father durst deceive: Worthy to be a Bride! her Fame shall live 'Till Time it self shall die. X. Arise, she said, my gentle Love, arise, And go, lest everlasting Night Surprize thee here: avoid my Fathers sight, And wicked Sisters Eyes. XI. Who now as hungry Lionesses, now Like tender Lambs their Husbands tear: But I, more merciful than they, will spare, Thy Life, and let thee go. XII. Me let my Father load with cruel Bands Because I spar'd my gentle Spouse. Me let him banish ever from his House Into the furthest Lands. XIII. Go, where thy Feet or Wind shall carry thee, While Venus Favours and the Night: Live happy thou, and on my Tomb stone write That thou wast sav'd by me.
Out of MOSCHUS one of the Minor Poets. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , or Cupid run away. CVpid was lost, and all about His Mother ran to seek him out. Through Town and Field, through Earth and Skies, Through young Men's Hearts, and Maidens Eyes, O'er Sea and Land, drawn with a Pair Of Milk-white Doves she cut the Air, But after many a Mile she'd past Her little Steeds grew tir'd at last: Then seeing she could no where spie him She stood, and thus began to crie him. O Yes! Whoever can descrie The Place where Love conceal'd does lie, Let him repair to me and take A soft Kiss for his Tidings sake: But he that brings him home shall meet A Kiss, and something else more sweet. Yet first, lest haply he deceive you, Take these Marks which I will give you, Marks which easily will shew him, 'Mongst a Thousand you may know him. His Skin, like Blushes which adorn The Bosom of the rising Morn, All over Ruddle is, and from His flaming Eyes quick glances come. His Meaning's Roguish, but his Tongue He handles well, 'tis sweetly hung. His Words you never once shall find The genu'ine Picture of his Mind. His Voice like Honey drops, but when He's angry, O be warie; then He's false and fell, and Pleasure takes In the Miseries he makes. Fair Curls his golden Temples grace; A wanton Air sets off his Face. His Hands are very small: but, oh! The Distance they his Arrows throw! Ev'n Hell itself, and its stern Lord Have felt their Force, and loudly roar'd. His Body's naked, as if he Delighted in simplicity: But, oh! his Soul, that cloathed is With manifold Hypocrisies. He neither Age, nor Sex will spare, But shoots his Arrows ev'ry where. And like a wanton Bird, he flies, And hovers o'er you, till he spies A way to dart into your Breast, And in your Liver build his Nest. Upon his Shoulder you may spie A golden Quiver; in it lie His winged Shafts, which often make High Heav'n and mighty Iove to quake. Nor God, nor Mortal can withstand The Force of his resistless Hand. As Death, impartial, none are free From his wide-wasting Tyranny. Kings and Swains do all adore him: Queens and Milk maids fall before him: He pities neither one nor other; No, not me, his one dear Mother. His little Torch to Heav'n will flie And make old Phoebus burn and frie In Flames more hot by far than those He on the scorched AEthiop throws. Such is my Son. Whoe'er shall find him Let him catch him, let him bind him, And render to my hands the Prize, And if from his dissembling Eyes The Tears do trickle, do not spare him; Tho he flatter do not hear him Whether he sigh, or smile, or pray, Bring him ne'ertheless away. If a Kiss he offer to you, O, beware; it will undo you. His Lips are Poyson, and his Breath Scatter Plagues far worse than Death. But if he, to let him go, Offer you his Shafts and Bow, O! touch them not: the Gifts of Love Will like Fire, destructive prove.
Out of BION. Love's Tutor. AS underdeath an Oak one Day Free from unpeaceful Thoughts I lay A gentle Slumber o'er my head His downy Wing had softly spread: When lo! before me seem'd to stand Bright Beauty's Queen, and in her hand Her little winged Son she had; A peevish, proud, unhappy Lad He is, tho' then h'appeared mild, And humble as a sucking Child. Dear Shepherd, I commend to thee My Son: pray take him home (said she) And teach him Poetry, for well I know, thou dost therein excel: Nor shalt thou unrewarded go, If Venus can rewards bestow. This said, away she went, and I (Proud of the Office) by and by Took my young Scholar, and began To teach the wanton Wag to scan A Verse upon his Fingers: but, The D—a dram would Cupid do't. No; He began to sing to me Songs of Love and Jolity, Songs of God's and Mortal's Pleasures, And t'unfold his Mother's Treasures. Soon, alas! soon I forgot All that the Youth I meant t' have taught. But his wicked Ballads out Of my Mind I ne'er could put, Nor ever since my lips could move To sing of any thing but Love.
The WIFE. LEt me but have a Wife what e'er she be So she be Woman, 'tis enough for me: I ask not one in whom all Graces shine, Her Sex alone endears her to be mine. If she be young, she is not stubborn grown, And I may form her Manners to my own: If old, a Wife and Mother both I have, And either may a Kiss or Blessing crave. If she be fair, she's lovely as the Light: If ugly, why? what's matter in the Night? If she be barren, I am free from Care: If Fruitful, Children costly Blessings are. If Poor, she'll Humble, and Obedient be: If Rich, O! who'd fear golden Slavery? If Scold she be, she'll teach me Patience: If Sluttish, I may Temp'rance learn from thence. If full of Tongue, I shan't want Company: If mute I'll love her for the Rarity. I'm Lord and Master, if she be a Fool: If wife, I shall be so to let her rule. Unjust are they who 'gainst the Sex declaim, When 'tis not they, but we deserve the blame. They all are good enough, had we but Skill The Good in them to take, and leave the Ill. That Wives and Husbands Humours seldom meet, 'Tis not 'cause they want Goodness, but these, Wit.
Happiness. I. WOuld you, my Friend, true Happiness obtain I'll tell you how that Treasure you may gain, Not Wealth, nor Wit, nor Wine, nor Women can Bring solid Comfort to the Mind of Man: But Wisdom, Virtue, Truth and Innocence, With their Rewards, the Store-house are, from whence This rare and precious Gift the Almighty doth dispence. II. True Mirth and Peace to visit will not deign The gilded Roofs, where wicked Tyrants reign: But love t'inhabit in the meanest Cell, Where innocent and humble Souls do dwell. Saul's restless Heart with jealous rage did fret, While David fed his flock secure, and set Such Hymns to's sacred Harp, as Angels still repeat. III Not Beds of Down sound sleep to him can bring Whom anxious Thoughts, or sinful Terrours sting. Seek not, if quiet slumbers you would find, To have your Limbs lie easie, but your mind: Whose Head is free from Care, from Guilt whole Breast, That Man upon a Stone may softly rest. So Iacob sleeping was with Heav'nly Visions blest.
Laus POETARUM, ac in primis VIRGIL II. ITe procul, Medici, Vanissima turba; recedant Pharmaca, docta magis Nummo purgare Crumenam Quam Languore Animum: Qui fallitur arte Galeni Dignus morte perit. Vos, ô medicina salubris, Libri cum Musis properate, meos que tumultus Dulcibus alloquiis mulcete, & pellite curas. Tu que Maro, Vatum pulcherrime, tu que Britannae Non impar venias, Coulaei, gloria Gentis. Post illos, avidas numerosus Horatius aures, Necnon marmoreis meditans Lucanus in hortis, Detineat, ve • su que placens Juvenalis acerbo. Accedat laetam fecit qui Statius Urbem, Felici que fluents non felix Carmine Naso. Illustres Animae! vobis mea vulnera credo: Vos animi morbos, curis que ingentibus aegros Doctiùs & meliùs sanare Machaone nôstis. Quis, divine Maro, tua Carmina docta legendo (Carmina quae dignè Divûm referantur ad aures) Vel meminisse potest, vel non contemnere curas? Phaenissae quoties Furias Phrygiive Labores Volvo Ducis, animo Dolor exulat omnis, & aequè Cum Sociis Regum felix, ac Regibus, aevum Exigo. Delicias tales aequare nec ulla Vina queunt, Juvenum nec splendida Cura, Puellae; Solaque Coelicolûm magis est optanda Voluptas.

CERTAIN COPIES OF Love-Verses.

VIRGIL. Eclog. 10. —Tanquam haec sit nostri medicina Furoris Aut Deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat.
Love-Verses. The FIRE. I. A Little house I had (a Heart I mean) Well furnish'd by my Mother's early Care With holy Principles, chaste Thoughts and clean, Good Purposes, modest Desires, and fair: In all the House no room to spare; In all the precious Goods no Spot was to be seen. II. But, ah! nor House, nor Goods can be secure From Fire, one day before her Eyes I came; My tender Heart not able to endure The subtil Lightning, catch'd a sudden Flame, Which burnt down all the little Frame: Hardly escap'd, with hurt, the goodly Furniture. III. Forthwith I ran, and call'd in all the aid I could, to quench the Fire: but all in vain Then I apply'd my self to her, and pray'd For Pity to those Eyes that gave the Pain: She entertain'd me with Disdain, And (Nero like) laugh'd at the Flames her self had made. IV. The Law (they say) will force her to make good The Damages, whereof she was the cause: Sometimes I threaten in an angry Mood To trie; but sober Counsels bid me pause: For Beauty is above the Laws; 'Twill blind the Judges Eyes, and fire their aged Blood. V. Oh! what a wretch was I to come so near? Alas! I thought it but a Lambent Flame, Such as once play'd about Ascanius Hair, And gently lick'd his Head, and did proclaim. His future Majesty and Fame; Or like the fanci'd Orb of Fire above the Air. VI. Well, in the Ashes yet, I've Wisdom found And this Mishap shall teach me watchful Care: The Man that can prevent a Second Wound Is wise. But ah! what boots it to beware? A Second Fire what need he fear Whose House was by the First burnt down quite to the ground?
The Fugitive. I. HAving received home my Heart at last I'll keep thee now, said I, Thou never more from me shalt flie: With that, strong gates before my Breast I plac'd, And with firm Resolutions barr'd them fast. II. Thus fenc'd and fortifi'd secure I lay: But, oh! the mighty Samson Love (Against whose Power in vain I strove) Carri'd the Gates, and Posts, and Bars away, And made room for my enlarged Heart to stray. III. Away it flew, swift as some heav'nly Mind: Come back, thou Fool, return again, Return, I cry'd, but all in vain. My fruitless Words were carri'd with the Wind, It flew away, and never look'd behind. IV. Well, go thy way, since I but vainly try To keep thee, go, and if thou find Her Heart inclining to be kind, Return, and tell me: But if still she flie, Follow'er, and either overtake, or die. V. For if thou come without her, I no more Rebellious Heart, will pardon thee, For thus unkindly leaving me: I'll vex thee, and torment thee ev'ry hour, And plague thee worse than she has done before.
The Penitent Rebel. I. BY the fond Counsel of my Friends misled I banish'd Love out of my Breast; Now surely I shall be at rest (Said I) now Love the covetous Tyrant's fled, Who all my Thoughts and precious Minutes challenged. II. But ah! no sooner was his Majesty, Which kept the inferiour Passions tame, Withdrawn, but in they rudely came, Pride, Avarice, Envy, Rage and Cruelty, With undetermin'd Lust that flies at ev'ry she. III. And now these Monsters in my Face do fly, They tear my very Soul and part Amongst them my divided Heart: Thus have I chang'd Love's gentle Monarchy Into a Common-wealth of lawless Tyranny. IV. So England in an unauspicious hour 'Gainst her indulgent Prince arose, His Golden Sceptre to oppose: She murder'd him, but fell into the Pow'r Of Cromwell, and an Host of armed Villains more. V. What Fools were they to think they'd kil'd the King Who never dies? His Royal Son Return'd with Honour to his Throne: Now free from Wars and Fears we sit and sing Under the peaceful Shadow of mild Charles's Wing. VI. Return thou too, dread Sov'raign Love, and save My poor distracted Heart which lies A Prey to cruel Enemies; 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 My Heart, which mut'nous Follies rendred have To a long Parliament of sordid Lusts a Slave. VII. Taught by the sad Experience of these wrongs, Thy Laws for ever I'll obey, And all thy Tributes duly pay: I'll give whatever to thy Crown belongs, Gales of fresh Sighs, Floods of salt Tears, and mournful Songs.
The White Devil. FOr Wit and Beauty she may vie With any mortal Brain, or Face: But, ah! where's noble Virtue? where shall I Thy venerable Footsteps trace? Come. Queen of Graces, to thy beauteous Throne, And let not Sin usurp what ought to be thine own. Without this, t'other must not heal Thy wound; then cease, and love no more; Who courts a Woman that is fair, but ill, A painted Devil doth adore. When Satan like an Angel doth appear Weak Mortals to delude, then he resembles her. III. Hellish her Soul, her Face Divine; This charms, the other doth affright: Light shines without, but Darkness dwells within, She's like a Black-moor clad in White. My Mind can never rest, unless she were Made by some skilful Hand more Vertuous or less Fair.
The Parting. I. AS virtuous Souls when they depart away, And leave their loved Bodies here alone, In Rest abide, until the joyful day Appointed for their Resurrection: II. So now we're parting, let us make no noise, Nor beat the empty Air with fruitless cries, Let us not make our cruel Foes rejoyce T' have griev'd our Heart, as well as vex'd our Eyes. III. Those Earth born Souls, whose chiefest Good is Sense, Whose Joys are dirty, and their Love obscene, Lament and howl when they are hurri'd hence, Because those Pleasures ne'er return again. IV. But we whose Love so spotless is and fine, Like that which Angels to each other bear, Shall much disgrace our Souls, if we repine, Aud murmure when our Bodies absent are. V. Speak, O ye Nymphs, that in cool Streams delight, For on your flowry Banks we us'd to lie, When did we e'er offend you with a sight That made you blush, or turn away your Eye? VI. Speak, O ye shady Woods, for ev'ry Night Before you all our Thoughts we us'd to spread, When did you ever hear a Word so light As made you frown, or shake your rev'rend Head? VII. Daphne the coy, who thought no Love between A diff'rent Sex could ever vertuous be, Then whisper'd thus to me, Had Phoebus been As chast as thou, I ne'er had been a Tree. VIII. Be this thy Comfort, Dear, tho' I be gone Do not thy self a fruitless Sorrow give; Nor like those wretched desp'rate Creatures moan, Whose former Sins all future Hopes bereave. IX. In th'Ev'ning, tho' the Sun withdraw his Light, Yet still his active Heat and Infl'ence stay, The od'rous Herbs and tender Plants all Night Shoot up and grow as well as in the day: X. So e'en upon thy absent Love I'll feast, Thy vital Memory shall nourish me, Until I see thy Beams arise in th'East Glorious and joyful: This, my Dear, shall be; XI. It shall. And none my saying can disprove, The great Orac'lous Truth none can deny: For Heav'n is just, and cannot let a Love So pure, so like it self uncrowned die.
The Ghost. I. LO! to thee in this silent Sheet Appears the Ghost of thy departed Lover: Dear, do not any fear discover, The harmless Sp'rit thou may'st with safety meet. It only loves to walk and wander nigh The happy Place, where its dear Treasures hiddenlie. II. Let that false glozing Hypocrite, That basely did our secret Love disclose And all our Happiness oppose, Grow pale, and tremble, when she sees the Spright: But I'll not visit her; the guilty Hagg Is haunted by her self, and needs no other Plague. III. How welcome did the Day arise When I with thee, my Dear, might freely walk, And unsuspected talk; Then when we fear'd no watchful Ears nor Eyes, When careless and secure we reap'd the Blisses Of chast Embraces, and Ten Thousand harmless Kisses! IV. She, sure, Love's Force has never known That could so cruelly divide us Two, O may she burn to purpose now, 'Till she's so black, and drie, and blister'd grown, That none may venture when she's scorched thus, To quench her flaming Lust, but some foul Incubus! V. Well, since our mortal Life is gone, And Separation is become our state, Let us with Hope and Patience wait Till we be rais'd anew, and joyn'd in one: Then will our Bliss my dear, more full arise, And then we'll feast upon more ripe and perfect Joys.
The Appeal. I. UPon a flow'ry Bed Beneath a Willow's pleasant shade, Beside a crystal Flood his Love-sick Head The melancholy Baker laid: Three Times he sigh'd with such a violent Force, As mov'd the very Willows with remorse; The Nymphs together flock'd to hear his Moans, And Eccho from the neighb'ring Hills answer'd his Groans. II. Tell me, ye Nymphs, (said he) So may you once so happy be A Nymph much brighter than your selves to see, Sit talking here with me, If e'er this rev'rend Stream from you should slide, Or underneath the Ground his Current hide, Would you not solitary sit on Shore, And sadly wail the Pleasures ye enjoy'd before? III. Tell me, thou pleasant Shade, So may your Greenness never fade, But be for her fair Head an Arbour made, Beneath you in my Bosom laid, When e'er from you the Sun doth backward haste, And on your Heads his Beams but faintly cast, Do ye not quickly lose your thick, green Hair, And stand expos'd to Winds, all wither'd and all bare? IV. Tell me, thou crystal Wave, So may thy Stream her Body lave, And from her Limbs a richer Tincture have, Than e'er the golden River gave, If e'er thy fruitful Fountain should decay, Or in bad humour turn another way, Would not thy Channel grow all chapt and drie, And all thy nimble, scaly People gasp and die? V. Tell me, ye Flowers gay, So may your Sweetness with you stay, 'Till her fair Hand shall pluck you hence away, And in her sweeter Bosom lay, If e'er the sullen Heav'ns should refuse To shed on you their soft refreshing Dews, Wovld not your Scent and Colour soon decay, And you that are so fresh and young, grow old and gray? VI. Tell me thou hollow Sound, So may each Plain and Hill around With Repetitions of her Name resound, 'Till all Voices else be drown'd, Should no sad Lover to these Banks resort, And with his tuneful Musick make thee Sport, Would'st thou not melancholy sit alone, And with dumb Wailings thy sad Solitude bemoan? VII. Then marvel not that I Decline all tedious Company, And to these solitary Places flie, And sit and sigh, and weep, and die; Since I have lost what was to me more dear Than to you, All that I have mention'd here, My Spring, my Shade, my Musick, and my Sun, The Pleasure of my Heart, and my Life's Soul is gone.
The Masque. I. INgrateful and malicious Maid, A Veil of Darkness thou hast thrown Over that Beauty which display'd Thy Maker's Glory not thine own. II. What spleenful Avarice is this, To hoard that Treasure, which before Fill'd all the World with Light and Bliss, Yet wasted not the boundless Store? III. Dear Niggard, imitate the Sun, (The Sun, thy sit similitude) He shines not to himself alone, But for the publick Joy and Good. IV. Remove the Cloud, that from thine Eyes Mankind may Light and Comfort take: Or if our Service thou despise, Yet do it for thine own Name's sake. V. Thy Face will lose its Sov'raign Praise By this obscure Retreat of thine: Behold! Since thou hast hid thy Rays, How proudly meaner Beauties shine! VI. Arise my Love, and make them know They owe their Lustre to thy Night, The Stars grow dull, and make no show, When once the Sun appears in sight. VII. Since that which made the Day so clear The Sun shine of thine Eyes is fled, Let Night (Love's wished Hour) my Dear, Softly conduct us both to Bed.
The Rose. I. SEest thou this Flow'r my Dear, how fair it shows Op'ning its balmy Bosom, to receive The lusty Morning-beams? A brisker Rose No Place, except thy youthful Cheek can give. II. The Sun, who in Aurora's purple Arms, This Morning lay, yet early left his Bed Drawn by this Rose's more inviting Charms, T'unlock the Treasures of a sweeter Red. III. See how it smiles; and yet e'er Day pass by (This very Day which gave it first a Birth) 'T will hang it's fainting Head, grow pale and die, And shed its falling Honours on the Earth: V. And this thy Beauty's Emblem is, which now In Youth's fair Morning looks so fresh and gay; But, ah! too short a Time the Fates allow; Too soon comes Ev'ning and it fades away. V. Since then your Reign such narrow limits bind, Take Counsel of thy Fellow-flow'r, my Dear, Which when it falleth, leaves a Seed behind, Of all its Glories the undoubted Heir: And by this Art, tho' in itself it die, Lives ever in its hopeful Race and fair Posterity.
A Rainy Morning. I. MY Friend, perswade me not to stay, When Love and Beauty calls away: Let him be wretched, whom the Rain Can from his Happiness detain. II. Give me the gallant Youth whose Breast Was by the Sestian Maid possest! He scorn'd the Sea's Rage, and shall I Regard the Droppings of the Skie? III. Let all the wat'ry Pow'rs combine, And in a League offensive joyn, Yet their confed'rate Force shall prove The easie Conquest of my Love. IV. Let Heav'n its secret Stores unlock, Let Earth produce her hoarded Stock, Let ev'ry Lake and River creep, To joyn the Oceans foamy Deep. V My Love, like that Celestial Flame Which on the Prophet's Off'ring came, Upon these Troops will boldly fall, And make but one Carouse (her Health) of all.
The Storm. I. 'TIS just, my Dear, that our Amour Should by this sudden Storm be crost: Our Bark too soon would gain the Shore, Were she not back to Sea-ward tost. A Prize so rich, it were unfit to get, Without exceeding Peril, Pains and Sweat. II. The Joys, which else too strong might prove For us to bear, are temper'd well With Sorrow thus, by gentle Love, To make them more supportable; So Bacchus's Rage with Water is allay'd, And Sol's hot Beams are chasten'd with a Shade. III. No Tempest useth to adorn The Nuptials of the vulgar sort; Those Fortune passeth by in Scorn, They lie beneath her haughty Sport: But high Desires she loves to vex, that so Delays and Fears may make them Dearer grow. IV. He were unwise that would not go To Heav'n through hardest Sufferings: And certainly, my fair One (tho' The odds be great) of earthly things None more resemble the Delights above Than the chast Pleasures of a mutual Love. V. Let not this Change then trouble thee, As if some ill it did portend; The Way, tho' rough and sharp it be, Will lead us safely in the end Into each others Arms, where linked fast, How light will seem to us all Labours past.
Wisdom. I. BE Wise d'ye say, I scorn that Word: Love's Politicks no such Rule afford, For Love and Wisdom never yet, Believe me, in one Subject met, It cannot be, not mighty Iove Can be at once, Wise, and in Love. II. The boldest Painter never dar'd Draw Love with either Eyes or Beard, For these are Wisdom's Signs; but he Delights in plain Simplicity. Blindness and Childhood best express His open-hearted Heedlesness. III. Let them be wise that rule the State, And calculate the Kingdom's Fate, Grave Counsellers, and Judges sage, Philosophers and Men of Age; The Serpent's Wisdom let them use, We the Dove's Innocence will chuse. IV. Wisdom to them perhaps may be Of Use: but not to thee and me, 'Twill vex our Minds and fill us full Of Doubts, and make our Pleasures dull. Away with't: in the Mysteries Of Love, 'tis Folly to be wise. V. Ah! Dear, Thou dost not see the end To which such evil Counsels tend. Consider what it is you speak; If this Advice Men once should take, Your Empire's Ruine it would prove. No wise Man ever was in Love. VI. If I were Wise, I soon should find Th'Impertinence of Woman-kind: Neither your Favour, nor your Frown Would lift me up, or cast me down. The Influence of your starry Eyes Is over-rul'd by him that's wise. VII. The deepest Mystery of State That makes the Pope, and Women great, Is Ignorance: If men were Wise, Both Pope, and Women they'd despise, And Protestants we all should prove 'Gainst his Religion, and your Love.
Reason. REason, which long had absent been before, Vouchsaf'd one Day to come within my door. Affrighted at th'unusual Sight, I try'd: To slip away, and trembling sneak'd aside: But he laid hold upon my Gown and made Me stay, and hear, whilst thus he gravely said, Art thou a Man, who thus thy self dost cheat, And let blind Passion usurp Reason's Seat, And giv'st thy Soul up to be rul'd by that Which neither knows how to command, nor what? Are Fetters grown so lovely, canst thou brook On thy free Neck to wear Love's Iron Yoak? What is this Rebel, Love, that dares controul My Right, and claim Supremacy in th' Soul? Love, that enfeebles ev'ry noble Mind, And Subjects Man to peevish Woman kind? In vain, alass! thy barren Soul I've till'd, Scattering the Seeds of Virtue through the Field Wild Oats are all the Crop that Ground will yield Where Love takes root, in vain we plough and sow; 'Tis such a Weed, no Corn near it will grow. Ah perjur'd Wretch, thus to abandon me, Whose Servant thou long since didst vow to be; But now my Place the Muses must supply: Those paltry Girls are more admir'd than I. What hast thou got by following this fond trade? Art thou the Richer, or the wiser made? Behold! how all thy Fellows do ascend, And to the Pulpit climb, their Journey's end; While thou dost preach t'a Woman, and provide, Homilies against Avarice and Pride. But all in vain: she stops her sullen ears; Thy Sermons she regards, just as the People, theirs. Thy Country and thy Friends require a share In that small stock of Learning, which their Care And Providence gave thee: But ingrateful thou Dost on a Woman all thy Thoughts bestow, And fondly slighting all their just desires, Thou melt'st thy self away in Female Fires. Rise, Baker, rise: take thy neglected Arms, Resist Self love, and wanton Pleasures Charms. Turn o'er the learned Volumes of the wise; Their great Examples set before thine Eyes Whom noble Virtue, and improved Wit Have in the Temple of bright Honour set. Success attends the bold. Dare to despise This Tyrant, Love: for when despis'd, he flies. Thus Reason said, and would have said much more, When suddenly we heard one ope the Door, And, lo! she enter'd: The mighty She, and like a Goddess bright; Her Eyes sent forth a more than human Light. She charming was, her Dress I durst have sworn Venus herself had been her Maid that Morn. A Crown of palest Gold her Head did wear If Gold may be compared with her Hair. And like as Lilies in a Glass with more Advantage shew their Whiteness, than before; So with more Art a fine transparent Shade Her snowy Neck and panting Breasts display'd. At her victorious Presence, Reason fell Like Dagon down before the Ark of Israel; And all his feeble Troops of Arg'ments fled: I 'rose, and reverently bow'd my Head, And Pardon begg'd for what had past before, And by her heav'nly Eyes devoutly swore. Bright Maid, than Life it self more dear to me, Confin'd to some dark Dungeon let me be, Banish'd for ever from thy soft Embrace, And from the Vision of that beaut'ous Face, If Reason's babling Tongue again I hear, Or yield to any Voice, but thine, mine Ear. Things human, Reason, to thy Lot do fall; Reign, if thou wilt, for ever in that Hall: But soar no high'r, lest Love's diviner Light Confound thy mortal Eyes, and blind thee quite,
RATIO. ACcessit nuper, quae multos abfuit annos Et nostros Ratio est dignata subire Penates Obstupui visu insolito, Limenque petivi: Illa, togam prendens, properantes sistere gressus Hasque aversantem voces audire coegit. Tune viri dignus titulo, qui stultus & amens Conaris proprio Rationem expellere Regno, In que meo Solio furibundum ponis Amorem? Tantus amorne Jugi est, & tanta Cupido Catenae? Egregium verò Facinus, Ratione fugatâ, Indignis quae sola Animum tutare Perîclis Possit & Affectus compescere sola rebelles Imperium Cordis Puero committere caeco, Cui jocus est Mentem furari, Animos que viriles Frangere, Faemineâ que caput circumdare vittâ! Quorsum ego Praeceptis colui tibi Pectus honestis Semina Doctrinae injicens, morum que bonorum? Spem messis tenues (ah!) ludificantur avenae. Herba Amor, infelix totum corrumpit agellum, Nec medicinalis sinit illic crescere Plantas. Ah Piger! in mea me juratus verba relinquis, Musarum que levis sterili nugaris arenâ. Quid tibi profuerit studia haec tam vana sequuto? Ecce! tui Socii, dudum laeta arva tenentes, Acquirunt finem studiorum, & Pulpita scandunt, Inde docent Populos, & praemia magna reportant: Tu vero infelix (monitorum oblito meorum) Verba facis, moveant quae ferrea corda Puellae, At que in Avaritiam & Fastum, muliebria clamas Crimina nequicquam. Illa nihil tua Dogmata curat; Et tuus, & Sermo Sociorum spargitur Austro. Te Patria exoptat, te dilectissima Mater, Te vicini omnes orant, chari que propinqui, Ut votis tandem velles, precibus que favere, Pro que piâ Curâ meritas persolvere grates: At tu (nonne pudet?) Cunctos postponis Amicae, In que puellares penitus dissolveris ignes. Surge, Puer, nimium que diu posita Arma resume, Excute turpe Jugum, blandos que repelle Furores. Volve Libros, pone ante oculos Exempla Virorum, Quos Labor assiduus, nox & vigilantibus hausta Luminibus, tandem ad meritos evexit honores. Audentes sua dextra juvat. Contemnere Amorem Aude: Cedit enim, siquis contempserit ipsum. Sic Ratio dixit. & dicere plura parabat, Cùm subitò patuere fores, & se intulit illa Illa potens formâ, verae que simillima Divae. Olli sidereos oculis afflârat Honores Ipsa Venus, multo que caput redimiverat Auro, Auro si fas est Dominae componere Crines. Candidaque ut puro spectantur Lilia vitro, Pulchra relucebat sic per Bombycina Cervix, In que sinu dulci niveae micuêre Mamillae. Hujus ad aspectum Ratio tremefacta potentem Concidit, ut quondam Piscis (res mira) Philistheus Ante Dei pronus venerandam concidit Arcam; Argumenta fugam que (imbellis turba) capessunt. Assurgo Dominam que caput demissus adoro, Et supplex veniam tantae concedere culpae Obsecro, per que suos oculos, mea numina, juro. Virgo, Luce magis misero dilecta Bakero, Corporis ipse tui Complexu avulsus, & almo Arcear aspectu, squalenti Carcere clausus, Blanda meas iterum Ratio si mulceat aures, Inducarve alium, Te praeter, ferre monentem. Rebus in humanis, Ratio, tua jura repandas, AEternum que impune illâ domineris in Aula: Ultra ne tendas, tibi ne perstringat Amoris Lumina Sol, nimia Lucem que in Luce relinquas.
ALEXIS. I. MY loyal Muse would feign aspire to sing The Praises of our gracious King: But, ah! 'twould ill become his God-like Deeds, His Wisdom, Patience, and the rest Of Virtues that possess his Princely Breast (For which wel-furnish'd Fame more Trumpets needs) To be debas'd and lessen'd by unskilful Reeds. II. Wonders of Mercy, bounteous Heav'n hath shown On him, and he himself is One. The marks of Pow'r divine t'all Kings belong: But God's beloved Attribute, Mercy with few but Charles does suit. To things so high 'twould be too great a wrong, To think them Burdens fit for ev'ry Rural Song. III. Shepherds are humble People, and for them Things humble are the fittest Theam. Their Flocks and Herds, cool Streams and flowry Plains And secret Woods, the chast abodes Of homely Nymphs, and Country Gods: These are the meet and inoffensive strains That fill the ready Mouths of all Poetick Swains. IV. Or if they higher rise, 'tis to relate Some Lover's good or evil Fate; To praise bright Phyllis, or if she prove coy, T'accuse of Avarice and Pride Both her and all the Sex beside: To mould sad Numbers some their Gift employ Others whom kinder Love enlargeth, Hymns of Joy. V. Among the rest, Damon, who long did prove The Force of Poetry and Love, (For whoso chooseth one, will soon have both) His Friend Alexis happy Fate Did kindly thus congratulate: Than him the Plains ne'er bred a gentler Youth; Verse, sweet as Honey, flow'd from his inspired Mouth. VI. Upon the Marsh the friendly Shepherds stood, Viewing the calm and gentle Flood The whilst beside them sed their wel-known Flock, When softly towards an Haven nigh A richly laden Ship sail'd by. This hint the fruitful Poet swiftly took, And thus alluding to the wealthy Bark he spoke, VII. What happy Star shone on thy winged Fleet? What prosp'rous Gale swell'd out thy Sheet? I scarce believ'd thee gone to Sea; When thou, with lucky haste thy Voyage done, A fair and wealthy Prize hast won: O happy Lover! happy thee, Who stubborn Beauty's Victor now may'st justly stiled be VIII. Not mighty Caesar with his num'rous Host A speedier Conquest e'er could boast, Than thou hast got by thine own Power: With Joy and Triumph valiant Swain; go on, Possess the Island thou hast won: Stand not thus idly on the Shore, But enter, and devour within her goodly Store. IX. Where Gold upon the Mountain Tops doth grow, What may we there expect below? Yet tho' with Gold it so abound, 'Tis from the us'al Fruits of Riches free: No Av'rice, nor Hypocrisie, No Pride, nor Luxury there is found; The golden Land with a true golden Age is crown'd, X. There Truth and Piety take up all the Room, And Innocence makes that her home; No Place for Falshood there. You may discern the Motions of her Heart, So pure her Breast, so free from Art: Her Heart shines through her Breasts, as clear As through her open Scarf her Breasts themselves appear. XI. On the calm Shoar (methinks) I see thee stand, The Borders of thy promis'd Land, Casting a scornful Look behind Upon the Sea, and smiling when thou se'st It's Rage by barb'rous Storms encreast: The Billows and the boist'rous Wind, Which others dread so much, are Pleasures to thy Mind. XII. Ah wretched and too miserable me Whose Vessel still is tost at Sea! Amidst the Rocks of Fem'nine Pride To Thunder and loud Storms expos'd I lie, And Lightnings of her angry Eye. No gentle Gale blows on my side, And not one Star in Heav'n appears to be my Guide. XIII. In vain, in vain the fruitless Seas I plow, In vain my shatter'd Bark I row, The adverse Winds blow't back again: The Shoars I seek still backward move apace; In vain I run a desp'rate Race; Then let me sink and perish in the Main: The rest I cannot find on Land, Lo! let me here obtain!
NISA. In Imitation of the Shepherd Damon's Complaint, in the Eighth Eclogue of Virgil.

Frigida vix Coelo noctis decesserat Umbra, &c.

I. SCarce was the Nights cold Shadow from the Skies Withdrawn, when the fresh Dew, that lies Upon the tender Grass, doth entertain The Flocks with a fat tastful Feast, Damon, whose Eyes had found no rest (Rest, which unhappy Lovers seek in vain) Thus, leaning on his Staff, poor Damon did complain. II. Rise Lucifer, and bring the Day along, Arise, and listen to my Song. My latest Song, which in my dying Hour, Rob'd of the Comfort of my Life, Nisa my promis'd Wife, I to the happy Gods above do pour; Tho' them in vain I've call'd to witness heretofore, III. Thou sacred Hill, upon whose lofty Brow Shrill Woods, and speaking Pines do grow, Who Shepherd's tuneful Loves dost always hear; And Pan who first of all did bring The Reeds harmoniously to sing; Thou sacred Hill, and vocal Wood draw near: Such a sad Song as mine ne'er touch'd your wakeful Ear. IV. Fair Nisa does her self on Mopsus throw, What may not Lovers hope for now? The golden Age (of which old Poets spake) Is come: now Contraries agree, And Nature is all Sympathy. At sight of Hounds the Deer no more shall quake; The Vulture and the Dove shall leagues of Friendship make. V. Thou shalt be married, Mopsus, go provide, The sponsal Cake, and setch the Bride: With Roses let the genial Couch be spread. Blest Man! Night's golden Harbinger (Whom lovely Venus holds so dear) For thee will earlier lift his sacred Head From Oeta's loved Lap, to light thee to thy Bed. VI. Thou, who a scornful Eye on all didst cast, Lo! what a worthy Choice at last Thou'st made! fair Virgin, look again and see; Look e'er too late it prove, What Trifles they're, which move Thee to abandon thy giv'n Faith, and me, And bleating Flocks, and cheerful Songs, and vert'ous Poverty. VII. Let none perswade thee to believe, dear Love, That the unactive Gods above Regard not what is done of Men below: Amidst thy var'ous Luxuries, And all the Court's deceitful Joys, Their Plagues will find thee out and make thee know What 'tis for filthy Lucres-sake to break thy Nuptial Vow. VIII. 'Twas in the Orchard first I saw my Dear, Gath'ring of golden Apples there. Just Thirteen winged Summers then were flown Over thy beauteous Head, and thou Could'st just reach up to th' laden Bough: A sweet but mortal Fever swiftly run Through all my Veins, I came, and saw, and was undone. IX. Now to my cost, alas! I'm made to prove Th'unnat'ral Cruelty of Love. Ah barb'rous wretch! who made th'a Deity? From some rough Mountain's hollow Womb In Wales or Scotland thou didst come: Proud Boy, thou'rt of a baser Blood than we; The Devil thee begat, the Furies suckled thee. X. What wicked Deeds have not by Love been wrought? What false and faithless Doctrines taught? The most religious sacred Bonds, that e'er Nature, or God himself did make, The impious Boy doth proudly break. By him her rev'rend Father's Purple Hair Scylla cut off, and gave his Crown to her Adulterer. XI. By him the natural Mother in the Blood Of her own Sons her Hands imbru'd. Ah! cruel Mother! wicked Boy! O say Which of the Two shall we Conclude the worse to be, Him that advis'd, or her that did obey? Both, both alike: but none beside so bad as they. XII. Now from young Lambs let the Woolf run for fear, Now let the Thistle Roses bear. Let precious Amber sweat from ev'ry Tree. Let Oaks with golden Apples bend, Let Owls for Voice with Swans contend: Let Baker now with Cowley equall'd be, Cowley who lost his well sung Love, no less than he. XIII. Let all things back to their old Chaos run, Let Horror and Confusion Themselves through all th'amuzed World disperse Farewel, ye Woods, farewel, for I To Shades more melancholy fly: Nisa, farewel. Be this my latest Verse, With which I here adorn thy Marri'ge, and my Herse.

PINDARIQUE ODES.

VIRGIL. Eclog. 4. —Paulo major a canamus.
Pindarique ODES. Out of HORACE. Carm. Lib. 2. Ode 14. Paraphrased. I. AH! dearest Friend, the Years are flying; They flie alass! they pass away (Like a swift Stream) and will in no wise stay; There's a necessity of dying. Neither thy Wisdom, Friend, nor all thy Care Can cure, or hide the Footsteps of old Age Which in thy rev'rend Face begin t'appear. Nor can thy deep Philosophy asswage The Fury of that mighty Conq'ror Death, Who rides in Triumph through the World, and all Before the Terrour of his Presence fall, Who walk upon the Earth, or underneath Within the Waters play, or in the Air do breath. II. Tho' ev'ry day throughout the rowling Year On Pluto's Altar thou shouldst burn Three Hundred chosen Bulls, thou canst not turn His unrelenting Heart, nor bow his stubborn Ear: Who keeps imprison'd in his brazen Hold The Giants, and the mighty Men of old; In vain they struggle to get out, For cruel Fates with hold. The Gates are Iron, and the Walls are high, And the grim Porter Cerb'rus doth before the Entrancelie. And the black River, like a folding Snake In Nine deep Circles guards it round about, E'en Styx the fatal Lake O'er which we all must pass, and ne'e return agen, Be we, or pow'rful Kings, or simple Country Men. III. Why do we labour then in vain to shun The various Dangers hanging o'er our Head, That so we may spin out a tangled and uneven Thread, In vain, in vain we run From the devouring Sword and thundring Gun; Tempestuous Seas we fear in vain, And Fevers which in Autumn reign; Since if all these were absent, yet By a strong Law which cannot be withstood, We're bound to die, and see the slothful Flood Of black Cocytus, and that impious Brood, Which shed their sleeping Bridegroom's Blood, And of a Nuptial made a winding Sheet; Now they with endless Labour groan, And wish they had not Swords but only Distaves known: And Sisyphus, condemn'd to roll the restless Stone. IV. Thy hoarded Treasures, and thy Manner house, From whose aspiring Tow'rs thou may'st descrie The spacious Fields around, and all the passers by, Yet canst not measure out the Bounds Of thine own Grounds, So far extended every Way they lie, Beyond the reach of all, except the World's great Eye, Must all be left, together with thy pleasant Spouse, In whose bright Wit and Beauty now thy Mind Doth soft, but sound Contentment find. Of all the Trees, which now with equal Art & Care Thy wise industrious Hand doth rear; Not one will wait upon thee (save A Bunch of mournful Cypress) to the Grave. V. The wiser and more noble Heir Since he t'enjoy with freedom will not grutch What thou so niggardly dost spare, And, like things hallow'd, art afraid to touch, Will lavishly consume and spend (As if they ne'er could have an end) Thy Goods, and open all the Treasuries Which now are lock'd up with an Hundred Keys, And bring the Pris'ners forth to the long wish'd for Light. He with his boon Companions will carouse And roar and frolick in thy House, And with the Ladies Dance and Revel all the Night; And wash the Floor with Floods of richer Wine Than they but sip, who at my Lord-May'r's Table Dine.
Sacred POEMS.
A Paraphrase on Psal. 128. I. HEarken, (for it concerns you near) to me All you that happy wish to be. Would you be certain not to miss Of Peace on Earth, in Heav'n of Bliss? Then let th'Almighty's Fear within you reign To teach you Virtue, and from Vice restrain; Walk in the Ways of God: his Ways are safe and plain. Blessed art thou who thus thy Steps dost guide, Blessed and safe on ev'ry side. Thy peaceful Temples shall be crown'd With Garlands of fresh Honours all around. A Thousand Comforts thou shalt meet Above thy Head, and underneath thy Feet. Of thine own Labours thou shalt eat (An wholsom and well-relish'd Food That needs no Sauce to make it savoury and good) And freely shalt enjoy the Fruit of all thy Toil and Sweat. II. To this an happy Wife shall added be; An happy Wife shall fall to thee, Who round thy Neck her gentle Arms will twine Like Tendrels of the fertile Vine, And Kisses give that far surpass the richest Wine: And from an unexhausted Store Of Love and Meekness evermore Fresh Comforts, and new Charms she will apply, And by dividing double all thy Joy. Each others mutual Help, blest Pair, ye shall be made; Thou her supporting Wall, she thy refreshing Shade. Meet-helper, She! Her pleasant Usefulness The Vine and its fair Fruit do well express, For she thy Spirit will revive, and cheer thy Heart no less. III. A gen'rous Off'spring to thy Bed she'll bring, An honest healthful Race from her will spring, Who round the Table shall be seen, Straight as young Plants, like Olives fresh and green. These thou with Joy shalt view, and tender Love, And then a secret Bliss will move With Raptures not to be exprest, In thy Contented and Paternal Breast. Yet think not, happy Man, that this Thy whole and final Portion is: Far better Things God hath for thee in store, And choicer Blessings on thy Head will pour, Blessings from Sion, his own House, from whence His best Gifts he doth still dispence. And loves to have us come to fetch them thence. The Church shall flourish too, and thou shalt bear In her Prosperity a lib'ral Share. Thus thou shalt live, and gladly see Thy Children, and their hopeful Progeny, A num'rous and wel-govern'd Family. And further, that thou may'st be sure This prosp'rous State will long endure, A publick Peace thy private Blessings shall secure.
On Mr. George Herbert's Sacred Poems, called, The Temple. I. SO long had Poetry possessed been By Pagans, that a Right in her they claim'd, Pleaded Prescription for their Sin, And Laws they made, and Arguments they fram'd, Nor thought it Wit, if God therein was nam'd: The true GOD; for of false ones they had store, Whom Devils we may better call, And ev'ry thing they deifi'd, And to a Stone, Arise and help they cri'd. And Woman-kind they fell before; Ev'n Woman-kind, which caus'd at first their Fall, Were almost the sole Subject of their Pen, And the chief Deities ador'd by fond and sottish Men. II. Herbert at last arose, Herbert inspir'd with holy Zeal, Their Arguments he solv'd, their Laws he did repeal, And spight of all th'enraged, Foes That with their utmost Malice did oppose, He rescu'd the poor Captive, Poetry, Whom her vile Masters had before decreed, All her immortal Spirit to employ In painting out the Lip or Eye Of some fantastick Dame, whose Pride Incentives did not need. This mighty Herbert could not brook; It griev'd his pious Soul to see The best and noblest Gift, That God to Man has left, Abus'd to serve vile Lust, and sordid Flattery: So, glorious Arms in her Defence he took; And when with great Success he'd set her free, He rais'd her fancy on a stronger Wing, Taught her of God above, and Things Divine to sing. III. Th'infernal Pow'rs that held her fast before And great Advantage of their Pris'ner made, And drove of Souls a gainful Trade, Began to mutiny and roar. So when Demetrius and his Partners view'dActs 19. Their Goddess, and with her, their dearer Gains to fall, They draw together a confus'd Multitude, And into th' Theater they crowd, And great Diana, great, they loudly call. Up into th'Air their Voices flie, Some one thing, some another crie, And most of them, they know nor why. They crie aloud, 'till the Earth ring again, Aloud they crie; but all in vain. Diana down must go; They can no more Their sinking Idol help, than she could them before. Down she must go with all her Pomp and Train: The glorious Gospel-Sun her horned Pride doth stain, No more to be renew'd, but ever in the Wane; And Poetry, now grown Divine above must ever reign. IV. A Mon'ment of this Victory Our David, our sweet Psalmist, rais'd on high, When he this Giant under foot did tread, And with Verse, his own Sword, cut off the Monster's Head. For as a Sling and Heav'n-directed Stone Laid flat the Gathite Champion, who alone Made Thousands tremble, while he proudly stood Bidding Defiance to the Hosts of God: So fell th' infernal Pow'rs before the Face Of mighty Herbert, who upon the Place A Temple built, that does outgo Both Solomon's, and Herod's too, And all the Temples of the Gods by far; So costly the Materials, and the Workmanship so rare A Temple built, as God did once ordain Without the Saw's harsh NoiseDeut. 27. 5. 1 Kings 6. 7. Or the untuneful Hammer's Voice, But built with sacred Musick's sweetest strain, Like Theban Walls of old, as witty Poets feign. V. Hail, heav'nly Bard, to whom great LOVE has giv'n (His mighty Kindness to express) To bear his Three mysterious Offices; Prophet, and Priest on Earth thou wast, and now a King in Heav'n. There thou dost reign, and there Thy Bus'ness is the same 'twas here, And thine old Songs thou singest o'er agen: The Angels and the Heav'nly Quire Gaze on thee, and admire To hear such Anthems from an earthly Lyre, Their own Hymns almost equall'd by an human Pen. We foolish Poets hope in vain Our Works Eternity shall gain: But sure those Poems needs must die Whose Theme is but Mortality. Thy wiser and more noble Muse The best, the only way did chuse To grow Immortal: For what Chance can wrong, What Teeth of Time devour that Song Which to a Heav'nly Tune is set for glorifi'd Saints to use? O may some Portion of thy Sp'rit on me (Thy poor Admirer) light, whose Breast By wretched mortal Loves hath been too long possest! When, Oh! when will the joyful Day arise That rescu'd from these Vanities, These painted Follies I shall be, If not an inspir'd Poet, yet an holy Priest like thee.
DEATH. Victuros que Dei celant, ut vivere durent; Felix est mori— Luc. Phar. Lib. 4. I. COme, Life's long Hope, and on thy peaceful Breast My burning Temples let me rest! Worn out with Grief, prest down with Loads of Care, To thee for succour I repair, Thou Comfort of the Sad, and ease of the Opprest. Could Mortals all thy Virtues clearly see, As much belov'd and courted thou wouldst be By all the World, as now thou art by me. Wars would not fright us then Into wall'd Towns, nor thence Would we be driven by the Pestilence. To breath the healthful Country Air agen: Nor to the Doctor would Men flie, Unless to crave his aidful hand, to make them sooner die, Thou art the Pilgrims Home, the poor Man's Wealth The Captive's Ransom, and the sick Man's Health, In vain of Goods and Liberty The Living boast; for none are free Or rich, but only such as are made so by thee. II. But Men (alas!) are blind to their own Good, They shun the Harbour, and desire to be For ever tossing on the stormy Flood: From Peace and Happiness they flee, Because the Benefits that come from thee Cannot be seen nor understood But by a wel-purg'd Mind, a quick enlightning Eye. Blest Aaron's Lot: full wisely he did spie Thy various Gifts, and well did count To what vast Sums thy Treasures do amount, When to the Top of Hor, with thee to meet, His longing Soul drew up his aged Feet. There unconcern'd like one that goes to Rest, Having first himself undrest, While God-like Moses and his own dear Son, The Heir of his high Place, with Tears stood looking on. His wel-pleas'd Head down laid the good old Priest To Heav'n it's Home, his Spirit enlarged fled; Within thy Arms his other Part was safe Deposited. III. Ah! Let it not prejudge my suit, that I To thee so late a Convert flie. Thou dost dispence, I grant, such solid Joys As well may win a Soul, that lies Nurs'd in the Lap of warm Prosperities, And well thou dost deserve our first and freest Choice: But 'ts (alas) our folly still Not to know Good, 'till first we taste of Ill. We're like Sea-monsters, which before They're wounded, never come to Shore. So when God's People by the Flesh-pots sate, Enjoying Bondage easie, they forgat Their promis'd Country: But the Iron Rod Of Pharaoh, and the toilsom Fire Soon kindled in their Breasts a strong desire Out of Egypt to retire, And travel tow'rds the fatal Land, where God Had promis'd rest to them, and safe abode; A Land, where gentle Streams of Milk and tastful Honey flow'd. IV. They know thee not, who thee grim Feature style, And meagre Shadow; Names too vile And much unfit for thee, whose ev'ry Part Lays stronger Chains upon the Heart, And binds with sweeter Force, than all That mortal Lovers Beauty call, Tho' heighten'd much by Fancy, and help'd by Art Through the false perspective of Hate They look'd, who hollow Cheeks in thee espy'd. And Mouth for ever open, grinning wide, With deep sunk Eyes, and Nose down levell'd flat. Thou'rt lovely all; no Virgin e'er Smil'd so sweet, or look'd so fair, Save she whose heav'nly Womb Man's ruin did repair. The Charms and Graces which we find Dispersed here and there in Woman-kind, Are all united, and sum'd up in thee, Beauties rich Epitome. Oh! that in this thou would'st not too That peevish Sex out-do, Flying the more from Men, the more they woe • V. Truth is, thou once wast such as we Fond tim'rous Men suspect thee still to be. Thy Look was Terrible, and justly might The most resolved Heart affright, Unable to endure the ghastly Sight, And on thy gloomy Eye lids sate eternal Night. But now thy looks are mended: now in thee No Terrour nor Deformity, But Friendliness and Love is all we see. The Blood that issu'd from my Saviour's Side By strange Transfusion fill'd each Vein Of thine with such a noble Tide, That thou'rt grown fresh and young again; Young as the Morn, Fresh as a Virgin-bride. The Roses which thy Cheek adorn, Were there transplanted, from the Thorn Which on his sacred Head did grow: His Innocence did deck Thy Hands and Neck With Beds of Lilies whiter far than Snow. Thy Shaft which was of old Headed with baleful Lead, he tip'd with Gold, It touch'd his precious Heart, And straight new Virtue drew, to dart Not Death, but Life and Joy instead of Smart. And ever since, thou'rt lovely grown; Since then, thy charming Face has shone With borrow'd Grace and Beauty, not thine own. VI. Thy Nature thus being chang'd 'tis fit Thy Name should likewise change with it. And so it is; Thy Christian Name is Rest, Sweet Rest, whose balmy Hand at Night repairs The vital Sp'rits, and Strength, which Day And painful Labour waste away: Of all God's Gifts the softest, and the best The fruitful Womb of Peace, the Tomb of Grief and Cares. But yet, 'twixt other Rests and thee there lies This diff'rence: they give Short, thou Lasting Joys. They make us abler to endure The long Disease of Life, thou the Disease dost cure. Our tender Hearts, which the fierce Vulture, Pain Devoureth, they restore to feel fresh Wounds again; But when thy Pow'r is o'er, To Grief and Labour we return no more: Of everlasting Peace and Joy thou art the Door. Eternal Life we cannot gain but by Thy Gift and Liberality, And he that hopes to live, must wish to die. VII. This Hope it is that now my Heart doth move, For truly (that I may no Flatt'rer prove) Thy Goods, O gentle Death, not thee I love. I would not perish like a Beast: To thee and all the World I here protest. No such unmanly Thought e'er came within my Breast. My Wishes are more gen'rous than to be Reduced to my First Non-entity: I would not be unmade, but made anew by thee. I thee, as Men rich Widows do, Not for thy self, but for thy Portion woe: Nor shouldst thou ever hear of Love from me, Were I not sure e'er long to bury thee, That by thy Spoils enrich'd I may arise More glorious Banns to solemnize, And change thy cold Love for a nobler Flame, The Nuptials of th'eternal Lamb.
JUDITH. I. SPeak, Muse, whom wilt thou sing? What mighty Man, what King, Upon the Stage what Hero wilt thou bring, To act his Part o'er once again, In such impetuous Numbers, as shall make His hearers (as his En'mies did) to quake? No, no; my Muse will not this Subject take. She'll meddle not with men Too long already they have been The flatter'd Theme of the Pindarique Pen. The fair and gentle Sex With barb'rous Spight to vex Their sp leenful Tongues while others bend, My gratefull and more gen'rous Muse (Like virtuous Knlghts of old) a nobler Task will chuse, Wrong'd and abus'd Ladies to defend. A Woman she will sing, whose matchless worth The best of Men must gladly Copy forth, If ever they expect to have their Name Recorded in the Rolls of never-dying Fame. II. Begin, begin, and strike the Lyre Teach all the World great Iudith to admire, Iudith who in that Hand a Fauchi'n bore Which a Distaff held before; Who bought the Safety of her native Town, With the Danger of her own; Whose conq'ring Eyes th'Assyrian Tyram spoil'd Of his proud Hopes, and all his shining Glories soyl'd. The fairest, and the chastest of her kind, (Two Epithets, that are but seldom joyn'd, Unless for some great Work by Heav'n design'd) And with these Female Gifts, Courage and Wit combin'd, Which we Male-Virtues call'd till then, And thought them proper to us Men. Iudith all these together brought, And self-conceited Men a better Judgment taught, More fair and good than ev'ry she, More bold and wise than ev'ry he: A Miracle she was, greater than that she wrought. III. Her mourning Habit laid aside, Which ne'er was done 'till now, since good Manasses dy'd, She drest her self in all her Gaity and Pride, Not like a drooping Widow, but a sprightful Bride. And to her nat'ral Beauty did impart Some little needless help of Art. Her Skin she washes, and she curls her Hair, Her Head a Bonnet set with sparkling Gems doth bear, Upon her Arms, her Fingers, and her Ears She Bracelets, Rings, and Jewels wears, And Silver Slippers on her feet. Arm'd weakly (one would think) a mighty Host to meet: But naked Beauty has a stronger Force Than armed Bands of Foot, and Troops of Horse. Thus arm'd, the Gen'rals Heart she'll captive lead; His Heart she first will take, and then his Head. IV. Thus drest, tow'rds the proud Gen'rals Tent, The Widow and her Maid with dil'gent Footsteps went: Bethulia' Elders wonder'd she would go So late, so drest, attended so: They wonder'd, but they fear'd no ill intent; Hee well-known Piety and Innocence Against Suspicion were a strong Defence. But on secure th' Heroic Lady goes, Nor fears she ought amidst the armed Foes; So bold is Beauty, when her Strength she knows. And now the Guards upon her Seize, And to the Gen'ral carry their fair Prize: The Sight his wanton Fancy much doth please; He makes his Soul a Slave to her imperious Eyes. And swears, if with her Love she him will crown, He'll think't a nobler Triumph than the vanquish'd Town. The Souldiers round his Tent do Crowd Their Wonder makes them insolent and rude, And thus they boldly cry aloud, Happy Hebrews! happy they Who'mbrace such Beauties ev'ry day! Come on, brave Hearts, let's make the Town submit That ev'ry one of us may such a Mistress get. Fond Fools, rejoyce not that to you she's fled.2 King. 19. 35. Your Fathers were of old by an Angel visited But 'twas to kill: expect the like Fate you, For this is a destroying Angel too. V. Tell me what made thee leave this Town, Said Holophernes 'twixt a Smile and Frown (The Smile to her, to th' Town the Frown he gave) This Town that dares me to out-brave, And 'gainst my Two great Gods so vainly boast, Th'Assyrian Monarch, and this num'rous Host? She softly answer'd with a virtuous Lie, That Isr'el's God his People would forsake, Because by strong necessity compell'd, His rev'rend Laws they had agreed to break, And eat such things as were by strict Command withheld. That she their Sin and Punishment to flie, Had fled for Safety to his Princely Aid: Nor should the noble Favour be unpaid, For she would undertake to shew The Season when and Manner how These desp'rate Hebrews he might best subdue. VI She spake, and by their Looks perceiv'd Her Tale was readily believ'd, Which made her bold thus to proceed and say, Wherefore, great Prince, I beg that with your leave I may Each Night go forth without the Camp to pray; For then my God to whom Fervent Devotions I do daily pay, Will tell me when Bethulia's Day is come. Then I, dread Sir, your valiant Troops will head And through the Heart of Palestina lead, And none shall dare to draw a Sword at them, Until all Labours over past, This Hand your peaceful Throne have plac'd Within the Walls of sack'd Ierusalem. While thus she pleads, he gazes on her Face, Admires her Wit, and Beauty, and the Grace Of her enchanting Words, and drinks down Love apace. His Heart is wounded, inwardly he burns, And for her sake a Party-Convert turns, If this be true (said he) And if thy God and thou perform all this for me, He shall my God, and thou my Goddess be. No other Deity I'll serve, but thine, and thee. VII. For Joy he makes a royal Feast, And beauteous Iudith is his Guest. The golden Cups are crown'd, And Iudith's Health goes round. With Flames of Wine he nourisheth Love's Fire: Drunkenness doubles his Desire. At last the Company retire, Leaving their envi'd Gen'ral to his Rest, And (as they thought) to a more delicious Feast, For Love, (that wanton Epicure) by luscious Beauty drest. He trebly drunk, with Joy, and Wine and Love Does from the Table to the Bed remove: The Bed, the Table, and the Tent turn round, With misty Fumes his Brain is drown'd, And his weak Sight Doubles the Light; Their Watch his Senses cannot keep (Such Dangers ever do attend The Man whom drunken Guards defend) Their Master is by them betray'd t'a deadly Sleep. VIII. Sleep Holophernes, sleep thy last: For when this Slumber once is past, Over thy Head his downy Wing shall never more be cast. The Bed, whereon thou next shalt lie, Will be a Bed of Flames, that never can expire, Of Flames more hot & smoaky than thy lustful Fire, And Death will then appear a welcome Remedy; But thou (alas!) must never die. The Devils roaring, and the Groans Of damned Souls, and thine own Pains and Moans, The Clank of Chains, the Whips unpleasant Noise, The laughing Fury's dismal Voice All hope of Slumber from thine Eyes will take, And ever, ever keep thy weary Soul awake, IX. Thus while in Sleep the Gen'ral buri'd lies The valiant Dame comes softly to the Bed, And takes the Fauchi'n from her Lover's Head, And, lifting up to Heav'n her faithful Eyes, Now help me, O my God (said she) and now Thy promis'd Mercy to thy People show. Then up she lifts her Arm, and strikes a Blow Upon his Neck with all her might, (An unseen Angel guides the Blow aright) Out Blood, and Wine, and Life, together mingled flow. A second Time she lifts her mighty Hands (The Angel ready by her stands) And with that Stroak his Soul is severed From's Body, and his Body from his Head. This done, the subtle Conqueror goes apace Through all the Guards upon Pretence Of Prayer, and unsuspected carries thence Their Master's Head, the Hebrew Tow'rs to grace. What Tongue can tell th'excess of Joy, which then Oe'rflow'd the Hearts of sav'd Bethulia's Men? The Mouths which heretofore with Thirst were dri'd, Found Moisture now their inward Joy to vent And Eyes, which all their Stock had spent, While they the publick Danger did lament, Pump'd up fresh Tears of Gladness, when they 'spi'd In Iudith's Hand, the Tyrant's Head, Who all their Sorrows, and their Fears had bred. Nor was their Joy secure, and unemploy'd, But all quick Preparation make, As soon as e'er the early Morn should 'wake, Their well-appointed Arms to take, And sally out upon the careless Foe, Whilst yet the last Nights Fate he did not know. X. The Morning come, the Souldiers throng About the Gen'rals Tent, and think he sleeps too long; With waiting tir'd, at last they ope the Door; And lo! their Duke lies Headless on the Floor, His Corps all wallowed in Dirt and Gore And lo! an hideous Crie through all the Army flies, Fear, and Despair, and Horror fill the Place: Nothing appears in ev'ry Face, But Wonder, Paleness, and Surprize. Such, I believe, but more amazing far Will the Face of things appear, Such Trembling and Astonishment will come On sinful Wretches at the Day of Doom, When Earth shall from the Center start,Rev. 6. 12. &c. and all The blasted Stars like unripe Figs shall fall. Torn from the Sphere, as Fruit by Tempest from the Tree When the Sun's Lamp obscure and black shall grow And thrust his Head into eternal Night, And the Appearance of a greater Light, And from the Moon (robb'd of her Brothers Sight) All Beauty shall depart, and Tears of Blood shall flow. When all the Orbs of Heaven untun'd shall be, And like a Parchment Scroll Which Men together roll, Crackle, and shrink on heaps amidst the Fire, Wherein the aged World's proud Fabrick must expire, And when the Sea shall boyl, and from her Bosom throw The Islands she embraces now. When Nature's self shall feel Death's inward Pain, And Rocks and Mountains shall be implor'd in vain To shelter guilty Souls from that devouring Flame' Which burns before the Presence of the now despised Lamb. XI. Hold, hold, audacious Muse, forbear to wrong, This mighty Day with thy bold Tongue. Whither has this great Hint transported thee? Call in thy 'nruly Heat, which hath digress'd so long; And let this dreadful Judgment be The daily Bus'ness of my Thoughts, more than my Song. Return we to th'Assyrian Camp, and view The sad Effects that Wine and Lust ensue. While thus amaz'd they stand, and no man knew Or what to say, or what to do, In, like fierce lightning, Lo! the Hebrews flew. The Torrent of whose direful Rage Nor struggling can repel, nor yielding can asswage. For like a mighty Wind, Which scatters, or o'erthrows with violent Force Whatever stops the Passage of his haughty Course. With no less fury they Whoe'er they find without Distinction slay. Revenge, as well as Love is blind, It sees no Cause of Rev'rence, nor of being kind: Princes and common Souldiers heap'd together ray. In vain some for their Lives do fight, Others as vainly flie: Death overtakes these in their Flight, And th'others stay to die. They flie; their furnish'd Tents behind them stay, To th'Isra'lites a joyful Prey, Who in Assyrian Blood dy'd Red their Holy day. XII. Return my Muse, leave now the bloody Field, And let thy tuneful Strings a softer Musick yield, Return to Israel's joyful Sons, and sing How to the Temple they their vowed Off rings bring. The Altar with bright Flames is beautifi'd, Whole Hecatombs of chosen Bullocks fri'd, And Clouds of Incence to the Skies Perfum'd with grateful Praises rise. And now where's beaut'ous Iudith, where To take her due and mighty Share In this great solemn Feast of Victory Wrought by her conqu'ring Hand, and more prevailing Eye? Look there, and you a charming Troop shall 'spie, Such as no show that e'er you saw can vie, Of beaut'ous Maids and Matrons a bright Galaxie. See, see how Iudith's Star above the rest aspires! She shines like Cynthia 'mongst the lesser Fires. Lo! in what decent Pride the now glad Widow stands! A Crown of Olive on her Head she wears, And the glad Name of Isr'el's Saviour hears. The Women round her dance with Branches in their Hands, And a triumphant Song they sing, As once they did to Isr'el's destin'd King; For she to her ten Thousands may be said, T' have slain in eutting off the Army's Head. Behind the Men of Isr'el joyful go, All armed, not for Battel, but for show, And as they march along thus to her Praise Then cheerful Voices raise. XIII. Hail, guardian Angel of old Isr'el's Seed, The Stock of faithful Abraham, To whom the Promise of Salvation came, Which now our joyful Eyes have seen fulfil'd indeed Much we have seen: but yet our Sons shall see Much more than we: For greater Things are breeding in the Womb Of Time to come. Hail Iudith, t' whom, next to kind Heav'n we owe That thus triumphantly we go, Nor fear th'Insultings of a conqu'ring Foe. Such Fruit thy Beauty's born, as never grew Upon that Stock, 'till now. Beauty's destroy'd Towns oft, and may do more: Never did Beauty save a Town before. 'Tis thou that hast improv'd its Fruit By grafting it on Virtue's noble Root. Ah! how unlike to thine, how far less fair Is that which other Ladies bear! Thou Freedom giv'st to all: they Fools enslave, Their Beauty boasts to kill, but thine to save. Their Eyes to Comets may be liken'd well, Whose direful Beams approaching Plagues foretel: Thine, like the gracious Sun, dispence Health and Beauty, Life and Sense, And chear the World by their kind Influence. Shine Beaut'ous Iudith; for no Light Like thine, will ever glad our sight, Until the Sun of Righteousness arise, The true and living Light, to bless our Heart and Eyes.

VIRGILIUS EVANGELIZANS. A POEM UPON Christmas-Day. In Imitation of the Fourth Eclogue of VIRGIL, Entitled, POLLIO.

THE PREFACE.

THe Fourth Eclogue of Virgil, taken by him out of Sibylla's Oracles, containeth a famous Prediction, concerning the Birth of our blessed Saviour (which was then at hand) and the Benefits of his Incarnation, together with the State of his Church, until the Restitution of all things. Which the Poet not understanding, nor imagining that a Person so extraordinary could arise any where but among the Romans, applies to Saloninus the Son of Pollio, then newly born; or as Irather think, to some young Infant of the Imperial Family: for he would hardly ascribe so great a Kingdom, and such mighty Acts to a private Person, for fear of displeasing Augustus, on whose Line all Power and Greatness was by the Flattery of Courtiers entailed for ever.

I have here endeavoured to rectifie Virgil's Mistake, and restore this excellent Poem to its right owner: there being several things in it, which cannot, with any shew of Truth, he applied to any Person, but the Son of God. And herein I have taken the Liberty (which the Poet, I suppose did with the Prophetess) to leave out some things, to add others, and by a Paraphrase to make the Sense more plain and easie. Yet the Reader will find very little in the Translation, that is not hinted in the Original, which will appear, if any Man will take the Pains to confer them together.

Tho' Virgil was not so happy as to understand his own Verses, yet in After times the reading of them did incline several Persons to the Christian Faith, and the Primitive Fathers made use of them, to convince the Pagans, that a Messias, a King from Heaven, a Restorer of all things was promised by God, and about that time expected by Men.

Thus God left not himself without Witness, even amongst the Gentiles, tho' through their Pride and Ignorance they misapplied the Intimations given them from Heaven.

VIRGIL Eclog. 4. I. SIcelides Musae paulo majora canamus: Non omnes arbusta juvant, humiles que myricae Si canimus Sylvas, Sylvae sint Consule dignae, Ultima Cumaei venit jam Carminis aetas; Magnus ab integro Seclorum nascitur ordo. Jam redit & virgo, redeunt Saturnia Regna. Jam nova Progenies Coelo demittitur alto. Tu modo nascenti Puero, quo Ferrea primum Desinet, ac toto surget Gens aurea mundo, Casta fave Lucina: tuus jam regnat Apollo. II. Te que adeo, Decus hoc aevi, te Consule inibit, Pollio, & incipient magni procedere Menses. Te Duce, siqua manent Sceleris vestigia nostri, Irrita perpetua solvent Formidine Gentes. Ille Deum vitam accipiet, Divis que videbit Permistos Heroas, & ipse videbitur illis, Pacatum que reget Patriis virtutibus Orbem. III. At tibi prima, Puer, nullo Monuscula cultu Errantes Ederas passim cum Baccare Tellus Mista que ridenti Colocasia fundet Acantho. Ipsae lacte domum referent distenta Capellae Ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta Leones. Ipsa tibi blandos fundent Cunabula Flores, Occidet & serpens, & fallax herba Veneni Occidet, Assyrium vulgo nascetur Amomum. IV. At simul Heroum Laudes, & Facta Parentum Jam legere, & quae sit poteris cognoscere Virtus, Molli paulatim flavescet Campus Aristâ, Incultis que rubens pendebit sentibus Uva, Et durae quercus sudabunt roscida Mella. V. Pauca tamen suberunt priscae vestigia Fruadis, Quae tentare Thetin ratibus, quae cingere muris Oppida, quae ju beant, telluri infindere sulcos. Alter erit tum Typhis, & altera quae vehat Argo Delectos Heroas; erunt etiam altera Bella, At que iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achilles. VI. Hinc ubi jam firmata Virum te fecerit aetas, Cedet & ipse Mari vector, nec nautica Pinus Mutabit merces; omnis ferit omnia Tellus. Non rastros patietur Humus, non vinea Falcem, Robustus quo que jam Tauris juga solvet Arator. Nec varios discet mentiri Luna Colores; Ipse sed in pratis Aries jam suave-rubenti Murice, jam croceo mutabit vellera Luto. Sponte sua sandyx pascentes vestiet agnos. Talia secla suis dixerunt currite fusis. Concordes stabili Fatorum numine Parcae. VII. Aggredere, ô magnos (aderit jam Tempus) honores. Chara Deum soboles, magnum Jovis Incrementum, Aspice convexo nutantem pondere mundum, Terra que tractusque Maris, Coelum que profundum! Aspice venturo laetentur ut omnia seclo! O mihi tam longe maneat pars ultima vitae, Spiritus, & quantum sat erit tua dicere Facta, Non me Carminibus vincet, nec Thracius Orpheus, Nec Linus; huic Mater quamvis, at que huic Pater adsit, Orphei Calliopea, Lino formosus Apollo.
Virgilius Evangelizans, &c. I. ENough of Rural Things, my Muse, The lowly Shrubs and Bushes of the Field To all an equal Pleasure do not yield. 'Tis Time for thee a nobler Theam to chuse: Or if of Woods thou still do sing. Let them be such Woods as are Worthy of a Consuls Care. Enough my Muse, of Love and Woman-kind. Take now thy Lute and to it bind A loud and everlasting String, And make the joyful News through the wide World to ring. The golden Age is come that shall unfold Sibylla's mystick Oracles of old. Behold! at last the heav'nly Maid is come, Whose long-expected Fruit shall bless us all, And from the Regions of high Heav'n recal! The Days of Paradise before the Fall. See, how her chast and sacred Womb Does with Seed immortal swell! From Heav'n the best Conception did descend, May Angels at their Master's Birth attend, S. Luke 2. 13, 14. And to Mankind the welcome Tidings tell, That by the Merit of this high-born Child The ancient Enmity is now exil'd, And God and Man are reconcil'd; Peace on the Earth through him, the Prince of Peace doth dwell. II. Thou Pollio thou shalt surely see This Darling of Manking, the World's Desire:Hag. 2. 7. For yet before thy Consul-ship expire The wond'rous Things shall be perform'd, that are foretold by me. For now the Womb of Time so big is grown, It cannot long the ripen'd Birth with hold: A new Account of Years comes marching on, The Iron Age will soon improve to Gold. Come, blessed Infant, whom high Heav'n ordains The promis'd Renovation to begin; 'Tis thou must wash away the Stains And Footsteps of Orig'nal Sin, And ease Man-kind of all the Fears they now are in. A Life divine thou on the Earth shalt lead Amidst thy Saints conversing Face to Face, A Priviledge not giv'n 'till now to human Race. Upon thy Foes thy Foot shall tread: Thou thy great Father's Gift the World shalt sway, And all the Kingdoms of the Earth thy Scepter shall obey. Psal. 2. 8, 9. III. In Honour of thy Birth, the Earth untill'd All kinds of Sovereign Herbs and smiling Flow'rs shall yield. Roses and Lilies of their own accord Shall grow about the Cradle of their Lord. All Creatures in thy Service shall agree; The Kine shall dutifully bring Their well fill'd Bottles to their Infant King, Is. 7. 1 • And thou shalt suck the free will Off rings of the Bee 'Twixt tame and savage Beasts there shall remain No diff'rence in thy peaceful Reign, Isai. 11. 6. &c. The Kids with Wolves shall safely dwell, And Lambs sleep boldly in the Leopard's Cell, The Flocks shall feed secure, and for thy sake The Lion and the call shall Leagues of Friendship make. Nay, Man more savage yet than these, Isa. 2. 4. Shall lay aside the Thoughts of War: The found of Trumpets then shall cease, No loud Alarums shall disturb Man's ease, But Ianus Gates an universal Peace shall bar. Th'old Serpent's Head shall bruised be, Gen. • . 15. And all his Poison taken out by thee, No Herbs of painful Nature shall be found; But rich Assyrian Odours then shall grow on ev'ry Ground. IV. But as in Strength and Stature thou shalt grow, Thy Fame shall new Advances make: Whatever ancient Prophets spake Thou shalt not only answer but out-do. The Virtues of thy Royal Line, Which in the sacred Books so clearly shine, Shall be obscur'd and over-cast by thine: As less illustrious Stars slip out of sight, When once the Sun steps forth all clad in golden Light. The cursed Earth, which like a Desert lies, A barren and unlovely Land, Into a fair and fruitful Paradise Shall be reformed by thy skilful Hand. Thy precious Seed in ev'ry Field A manifold Encrease shall yield. The Wood's wild Plants shall feel thy Pow'r divine, Their Naturo thou shalt change, their Fruit refine, And bid the rugged Thorn become a noble Vine. On Brambles thou the purple Rose shalt set, And stubborn Oaks shall store of tastful Honey sweat. V Yet still some Reliques of the Prim'tive Stain Shall in the Root of tainted Nature lurk, And countermine thy sacred Work, Reducing Sin, and Sin's unlucky Fruits again. The Love of Gold shall yet enslave Man-kind, And to vexatious Cares and Labours bind. Some to the toilsom Plough shall yoaked be, And others travel through the Pathless Sea, Pride and Ambition still shall reign, And Princes to the Wars their People train; And foolish Men their Wits shall stain T'invent more dreadful Engines still The Life of Innocents to spill. VI. But when thy glorious Body shall receive It's perfect growth, it's full increase, All Pain and Labour then shall cease. The Mariner the stormy Sea shall leave: Of Traffick there shall be no further need, For ev'ry Land shall all things useful breed, With Plough-shares torn, the Earth no more shall be The lab'ring Ox shall then go free; Nor shall the tender Vine by cutting bleed, The Dyers feigned Art shall useless lie: Instructed Nature shall the Place of Art supply. Thy Flocks shall precious Colours freely bear, Some Azure Wool, and some shall Scarlet wear. Soft to the Touch, and to the Eye more fair Than Persian Silks, or Tyrian Hangings are: And all thy Lambs shall yield a golden Fleece, Richer than that at Colchos, sought by all the Youth of Greece. So Heav'n decrees, so Prophecies relate; This blessed Change we all expect from thy resistless Fate. VII. Come mighty Prince the Time draws near, Thou, God's beloved Son, Heav'ns shining Crown, Thou Joy of Angels hasten down: The sinful Earth to visit do not sear; Thy Presence will create its own Heav'n ev'ry where. See how the Heav'ns, the Earth, and spacious Sea Beneath the Weight of Sin and Vanity Do groan and pant, Rom. 8. 19. 12. and long for thee, Who art ordain'd their great Deliverer to be. See how they smile with secret Joy, Stretch forth their Necks, and raise their Heads on high. O might I live to see that Joyful Day, When free'd from Sin and Vanity, Both Heav'n and Earth renew'd shall be, And re-obtain their sweet and ancient Liberty! When the last Fire shall purge their Dross away, But leave the Substance still behind, (Like precious Gold) more rich and more refin'd,2. S. Pet. 3. 12. 13. No more obnoxious now to Bondage or Decay. When, Sin and Malice driven down to Hell, (Their native Place, their ancient Home, From whence they never more shall come) Just Men and meek in endless Bliss on the new Earth shall dwell. Mat. 5. 5. O might I live thy noble Acts to tell! Doubtless that glorious Subject will inspire Thy Servant's Breast with such exalted Fire, That the blest Spirits, and th'immortal Quire Shall listen to my Verses, and admire To hear Angelick Songs breath'd from an human Lyre.

HICATHRIFT: DUELLUM, SIVE PUGNA Singularis INTER Juvenem quendam fortissimum, Cui NOMEN HICATHRIFT, ET GIGANTEM Ferocissimum, Qui publicos Agros (vulgò Marshland Smee) occupaverat, atque Incolas, magnâ cum bonorum jacturâ sedes suas mutare coegerat.

Vicit amor Patriae—
HICATHRIFT. ILLE ego, qui molli nuper labefactus amore Carmina deslevi teneris placitura puellis, Securus Famae, & nil pulchrae Laudis avarus: Consilia in melius referens nunc laetor amarum Excussisse jugum Cervice; novo que Furore Afflatus non jam venerem, sed servida martis Arma, virum que cano, Patriam qui primus ab Hoste Eripuit, capitis que sui discrimine Postem Depulit à Sociis; magnum & memorabile factum, Nostra suas dignè Laudes si dicere possit Musa, nec ingenium superent certamina tanta. Non procul urbe jacet Lennâ ditissima frugum,Lyn. Et pecorum Regio; veteres haud nomine vano (Quippe Mari juxta Madidam) dixere Palustrem.Marshland. Oceani (ut prohibent) ereptam faucibus olim Romani valido cinxerunt aggere Terram, Quem sumptu nimio, magno que labore Nepotes Sufficiunt, Pelagique minas tali arte repellant: Ni facerent, ruptis subitò (sua jura reposcens) Irrueret Portis, pecudes que domos que per undas Spargeret, at que iterum qua nunc armenta vagantur, Pasceret immanes Proteus sub Gurgite Phocas. Hujus ad occiduam fundit se plurima partemThe Smeth, vulgò the Smee. Planicies, spacio late que extenditur amplo. Vere novo, quando aura tepet, Zephyri que benigni Aspirant, Flores varios & Graminis herbam Sponte sua felix, nullo que subacta colono Fundit humus, pariter Nares ac Lumina pascens. Hic jucunda apibus Cerinthe, hic aurea floret Primula, quae que nives superant candore recentes Lilia, cum violis & purpureo Narcisso. Hos inter vario Pecudes certamine ludunt, Innocuae pascuntur oves; pulchrae que juvencae In fera sollicitant animosos Praelia Tauros • Lambit eum glaucâ praecinctus arundine ripas Ousa pater, pecori qui fundit pocula laeto. Deni que tota nitet, Coelo gratissima, & omnes Exuperat longè terras: jam frigida Tempe Amplius haud jactent Authores Carmine, jam que Desinat Elysios mirari Graecia campos. Ast olim deserta situ, multo que jacebat Obruta squallore, & sylvestribus horrida dumis Nec pecori Pastum, nec iter praebebat eunti. Quiqpe ferunt illic (si ritè audita recordot) Immanem sibi speluncas posuisse Gigantem, Exortum (ut memorant) saevorum sanguine Fratrum, Qui conjurati Coelum rescindere, montes Montibus augebant, donec dubitare Deûm Rex Inciperet (Pulsi nam conscius ille Parentis Nè Coelum eriperent, male partá que Regna timebat.) Non glebam rastris domuit, nec pascere tauros, Lanigerosve greges agitare, hirtasve capellas Cura fuit: verum ex alieno vivere, fidens Viribus ipse suis, operas que solebat agrestum Diripere immittis, & opimas vertere praedas. Ah! Quoties laetas segetes (sua vota) colonus Calcari vidit, vel in horrea abire Tyranni! Ah! Quoties abigi taurorum corpora pastor Balantum que greges, abjectâ, flevit, avenâ! Diffugiunt populi confestim, & dulcia linquunt. Arva, nec assuetis sese committere ripis Audent; sed longis repetunt ambagibus Urbes, Qua via tuta pater. Tantus timor occupat omnes. Non tulit hoc Monstrum, nec de regione viarum Deflecti notâ voluit Mavortius Heros, Angligenûm Decus, ipsum Hicathrift cognomine dicunt. Hic Patriae damnis, Laudum que cupidine tactus Accipit ingentes animos, in utrum que paratus, Seu terris (modo Dii faveant) avertere pestem Infandam, seu praesenti succumbere morti. At non armatus clypeo, non ille bipennem Caelatam tulit argento, galeamve nitentem Aptavit capiti, ne que sic ad praelia venit. Sed vultum Aurigae induitur, vocem que colorem que Et crassum filo sagulum, manibus que flagellum Increpitans, egit deserta per avia Plaustrum. Sic prodibat, equos sonitu que manu que lacessens, Castigat que moras, vocem cum protinus hausit AEtnaeus Frater, lato qui forte sub antro Carpebat somnos, epulis expletus inemptis. Quin statim exiluit, telum que immane coruscans, Ingens, arboreum (quod vix cervice subirent Sex Juvenes lecti) Puero obveniebat inermi, Quem prior aggreditur dictis, sic que increpat ultro. Quisquis es, audacem qui nostra ad maenia gressum Dirigis, & placidam turbâsti voce quietem, Haud impunè feres: Haec te mox virga docebit (Sed nimium serò) nostrum irritare furorem. Ah demens! Quae te ceperunt taedia vitae? Huc ades, ut primo contusum verbere corpus Projiciam canibus, nigro que fluentia tabo Membra ferae rapiant volucres, & viscera lambant. Sic ait, insultans, dextrâ que hastilia quassat. Horrisona; ex oculis creber micat acribus ignis. Ast Hicathrift vultum horendum, voces que superbas Miratus stupet, at que oculos per singula volvit; Nunc caput aspiciens torvum, duros que lacertos, Nunc latos humeros, magna ossa, pedum que columnas. Tum sic intrepidus, Quis te miser impie vanas Edocuit jactare minas, nondum que peracto Bello, immaturos temerè celebrare triumphos? Si genus Humanum temnas, at magna Potestas Te Coeli moveat: Non huc sine numine Divûm Advenio vindex, quos tu, scelerate, malignis Exagitas odiis, Lentos que impellis ad iras. Quo moriture, ruis? nec te tua Dextera, nec te Eripiet, Spelunca alto submota recessu. Dixit, & evertit plaustrum, lavaque revulsam Corripuit (mora nulla) Rotam; dextram que replevit Pro Gladio, non hos Axis fabricatus in usus. Jam que ineunt Pugnas. Extemplo arrectus uter que Constitit in digitos, & brachia tollit ad auras, In que vicem caedunt, miscentur & ictibus ict us. Mobilitate Puer superabat, viribus impar: Atte minor, sed mole Gigas membris que valebat. Heu! quantas dedit ille minas, & vulnera frendens Irrita! Quippe Rotae clypeo promptissimus Heros Excipit objecto, numerata que reddidit Axe. Attoniti longè tauri stant (furta Tyranni) Immemer herbarum stat Bucula, praelia longè Horrescens, retrò fugit ipse exterritus Amnis. Anceps Pugna diu; nec cui fortuna faveret Certum: sed nunc hic melior, nunc ille vicissim. At Puero tandem laetis victoria pennis Advolat, & curas solvit: vim suscitat ira, At que iram pudor, & tam segnis Palma pudorem Suffundit cupienti. Ergò amens vulnere denso Hostem conturbat, trepidum que agit aequore toto. Nec mora, nec requies: Quàm multi littora fluctus In • ani feriunt, Hicathrift tot fortiter ictus Sparsit utra que manu pugnans, fudit que Gigantem. Ac velut annosam siquis de montibus ornum Eruat aut Quercum, nunc huc, nunc fluctuat illuc Et tandem crebris cadit icta securibus arbor; Dant gemitum Campi: vasto sic pondere Cyclops Concidit & rabido tellurem dente momordit. Accurrit Juvenis lapso, & vi servidus instat, Congeminat que ictus; fuso simul arva cerebro Inficit: Ast ille solvuntur frigore membra, At que anima horrificum pavitans descendit in ornum.
JOSEPH. GEN. 39. I. NOT the Pellaean Conquerour, To whose insatiate restless Mind The spacious Globe too narrow did appear; It made him sweat to be so close confin'd; Nor mighty Cesar will I sing, Who did so many warlike Nations bring Under the Roman Eagle's tow'ring Wing. Rough Wars, and bloody Battles seem For gentle Verse no proper Theme: The peaceful Muse, believe me, can't rejoyce To hear the barb'rous Drum, or the shrill Trumpet's Voice. Nor can the World Two Things so 'nlike afford (With Contrarieties tho' richly stor'd) As are the Poet's Pen, and Tyrant's Sword. II. Since Kings and Emperours thou dost refuse, I'll teach thee, my Pindarique Muse, What fitter Subject thou shalt chuse: Let virtuous Ioseph move thy tuneful Strings; A greater Man than Emperours and Kings; Ioseph, who o'er himself a Conquest made, And by his own Affections was obey'd. Who subdu'd Vanity and Pride, And the whold World of Passions else beside. Who made the Rebel Lust to Virtue yield, And chas'd the Tyrant Beauty from the Field, A bolder Labour than the fam'd Alcides ever try'd; Or all those royal Monsters, who amidst the state And glories of their prosp'rous Fate Were Slaves themselves, and very meanly Great: Who basely did to Woman-kind submit, And when with equal Guilt and Toil Of many Lands they'd reap'd the Spoil, They laid all down at an imperious Harlot's feet. This Bondage noble Ioseph scorn'd, A Youth by God and Nature so adorn'd With rich variety of Grace, That born he seem'd of heav'nly Race, So pure his Mind, so lovely was his Face. III. No sooner had his Mistress cast (A Lady beautiful and young) Her Eyes on him, but she began to long The fair and prom'sing Fruit, (like Eve) to tast. Yet for a while she faintly strove To disengage her Captive Heart: Some Strife there was on either part, But Passion did at length too hard for Virtue prove. Shall I (said he) forget my nuptial Vows? Shall I defame my Husband's noble House, And lose the Honour of a chast and loyal Spouse? Shall I debase my self, and leave A Peer of Egypt, for an Hebrew Slave? Yet why a Slave? Not his, but Fortune's Sin, That partial Dame, by whom the best And bravest Men are most depress'd, While the vile Sons of Earth are courted and caress'd. Can any Thing so Charming, so Divine Come from a low ignoble Origine? His God-like Beauty, and his Princely Meen Bear witness for him, that he springs From a long Race of ancient Kings: I'm sure he well deserves th'Embraces of a Queen. Mine is a just and noble Flame: There's nothing to obstruct my Joys, There's nothing to condemn my wel-made Choice. But Priest-craft, out worn Laws, and Honours empty Name. Well then, th'illustrious Passion I'll obey. Let Preachers, Laws, and Honour all give way: Love is a Lord more absolute than they. IV. Resolv'd to try, nor doubtful of Success (Her Wit and Beauty made her confident) She courts her Servant with a bold Address, Tells him the Story of her Love, And all her Charms she does display, And all her Beauties open lay: But vain are all her Arts his Inn'cence to betray, And all her Witchcrafts prove too weak his wellfix'd. Mind to move. More gen'rous Thoughts had prepossess'd And strongly garison'd his Breast. His Master's Kindness, and reposed Trust Were firm Engagements to be just. All things were his, but only she That most desired his to be: But Ioseph would not taste the One forbidden Tree The Love of Virtue, and the Fear of God So fill'd his Soul with sacred Fire, They left no room for any lewd Desire. His purer Flame (as Moses wondrous Rod Th'enchanted Serpents did devour) Consum'd the other Passions: all their Pow'r His steady Resolutions mock. In vain her Courtship she repeats, In vain she threatens and intreats: He equally disdains her Flatt'ries, and her Threats. Her Sighs and Tears are fruitless all; Those idly blow, these idly fall: His solid Virtue they no more can shock, Than Winds and Waves can rend the sure Foundations of a Rock. V. Upon what desp'rate Service will not Lust, When raging grown its blinded Bond-slaves thrust? His stubborn Heart, so long besieg'd in vain, That to no Composition would descend, She now resolves by Force to bend, And storm the fortress which no Treaty could obtain. Upon the comely Youth, her furious Hands she cast, And impudently drew him to the Bed: Long Time she strove to hold him, but at last, He broke away, and from the lustful Syren fled. Go, matchless Youth, glad and triumphant go, And bind fresh Lawrels round thy Conq'ring Brow: The Sons of War, who take Delight To meet their Foes in open Fight, Less Honour merit than is due to thee For daring from thine Enemy to flee. An everlasting Temple to thy Fame (If such her Pow'r may be) my Muse has vow'd to frame, And in it thou shalt sit enthron'd on high, Full of Grace and Majesty. Beneath thy Foot-stool Pride and Lust shall lie, And all the Passions else, a long Captivity, Round thy Victorious Head A Glory shall be spread, And on a well-wrought Pillar by, In smooth and noble Verse thy Triumphs shall be read. VI. Enrag'd to find her Labour lost (A Woman and a Lover to be crost! She turns from Bad to Woise. Lust quits her Breast By Anger and Revenge, new Lords, to be possess'd. She threatens high, and tho' her Love did fail, She swears her Malice shall prevail. His Vest, which flying, he had left behind, She keeps, until her Lord should come From th' honorable Toil of publick Business, home. This, this (says she) my Husband's Eyes shall blind, And the proud Hebrew Slave shall quickly find, That I can be severe as well as kind. All drown'd in Tears the spleenful Hypocrite Accuses Ioseph of that Sin, Of which herself had guilty been, And (as his Brethren did before, Their Treachery to cover o'er) She shows her Garment to confirm her Spight. The false Complaint her too fond Husband hears, Believes her Words, believes her artificial Tears, Highly commends her feign'd Fidelity, And in a jealous Rage (Which nothing could asswage) Condemns unheard the right'ous Youth (Regardless of his former Truth) In a dark Dung'on all his Days to lie. But God that still protects and loves the Innocent, To comfort him, from Heav'n an Angel sent. Blest Gabriel, none more kind than he To men renown'd for Chastity, Assum'd a Shape (like Ioseph's) pure and bright. The dismal Room smil'd with new Beams of Light. And Ioseph trembled at the Sight; Till his Approach the courteous Spirit made, And, bowing, thus his sacred Message said. VII. Hail, peerless Youth, of God belov'd, Tho' Men and Dev'ls conspire to blast and ruin thee, Yet Heav'n thy well-try'd Virtue has approv'd, And thou shalt soon from hence deliver'd be. Thy Fame, now deeply rooted under ground, Up to the Skies Shall shortly rise, And spread it's flour'shing Branches all around. Thy Suff'rings and Disgrace shall end with speed, And Wealth and Glory in their Place succeed. With Joy unspeakable thou shalt behold Thy Chain of Iron, chang'd for one of Gold. And thou who now ly'st in the lowest Pit, Upon a lofty Throne shalt sit, Advanc'd on high, next to great Phar'oh's side. And beauteous Asenath shall be thy Bride. A noble Race thou shalt beget, And what thy eldest Brother Lost1 Chr. 5. 1, 2. By Sin, thy Virtue shall obtain: The double Portion thou shalt gain, And Two illustrious Tribes to come from thee shall boast. None but Iudah's royal Line T' which ancient Prophecies confine The great Messiah's Birth, thy Off-spring shall outshine. Thy Father's num'rous Family, And all the sacred Seed shall be sustain'd by thee. And when thy glorious Race is run, Thou shalt to Heav'n translated be, Where thy pure Eyes shall gladly seeMatt. 5. 8. The blessed Face of God, far brighter than the Sun. All human Hopes thy Bliss shall there excel, And with chaste Spirits, like thy self, for ever thou shalt dwell.
Amico suo D. M. F. Theoriae Burnetianae Argumentum. TEmpora prima Chaos, Chaos Gen, 1. 2. Mundi nascentis Origo Vendicat. Hinc pulchrum verbo Pater evocat Orbem, Deliciis Orbem nullâ non-parte beatum, Terra primigenia, sive Paradisus. Gen. 2, 8. Quem merito Moses Paradisum nomine dicit. Hîc Ver perpetuum, florentia Sydera, rerum Copia, nec magnos metuêre Armenta Leones. Arcebat longè morbos, & mille per annos Produxit validam Coeli indulgentia vitam. Nulli tum Montes, immania Corpora, latis Incubuêre arvis, nec sublatuêre Cavernae. Nec vagus Oceanus tantum Telluris obibat. Dulcia faecundos saturabant Flumina Campos, Et Rorem bibulis hausit radicibus Herba. Non illis populos terrebant ulla Diebus Fulmina nec magnis mugitibus horruit AEther. Nulla satis nocuit Rubigo, aut messibus imbres. Hybernis placidi pai • ebant flatibus Euri: Intrepidè Coelo caput extulit Arbor, & omnes Explicuit frondes, & toto Sole potita est. Nec Bellum, nec Sudor erat. Deus otia secit: Longaevi que Patres Pacem Terrám que colebant. Degener at soboles, Diluvium. Gen. 7. 11. rebus sublata secundis, Flagitiis armant in sese Numinis iram: Nam Pater omnipotens, cùm multa diú que tulisset (Expectans populos frustrà ad meliora vocatos) In paenas tardè justas exarsit, & Orbis Fornice disrupto, vastam patefecit Abyssum, Illa locum subitò medium perrupit, & omnem (Occurrens Nimbis, conjuncto foedere, saevis) Fluctibus obduxit Terram, mersit que Rebelles, Submotâ tandem,Terra hodierna. jussu Omnipotentis, Aquae vi, Tristis & informis rerum consurgit imago. Apparent latè collapfi Rudera Mundi Et Chaos antiqui Natura exhorruit Umbram. Tum primùm Montes onerârunt pondere Terram Insolito, horrendae primum patuêre Lacunae. Acceptâ que semel Lucis regione propinquae, Abnegat Oceanus tenebrosa revisere Regna: Pars manet; in caecum pars retrò est lapsa Barathrum. Et jam relliquias Ponti, fracti que Ruinas Incolimus Mundi, gens dura, & nata Labori. Terra, ferax olim Mater, nunc deficit, & spem Agricolae fallit, Coelo impraegnata maligno. Undi que bella fremunt, Pestes, Incendia, Luctus. Et male-suada Fames. Nec si percurrere vellem Nomina poenarum, quae secula nostra lacessunt, Sufficeret longae vel Lux aestiva Querelae, Impietate tamen supremi Funeris ignes Conflagratio. 25. Pet. 3. 10, &c. Urgemus miseri, & naturae fata ruentis. Quippe Mare & Terras, & tot Monumenta Virorum, Et quicquid vani mortales dulce putamus, Hauriet una Dies, Flammis que addicet avaris. At Phaenix primam, redivivus ab igne juventam Induct, & vultu meliore superbiet Orbis. Nulla mali suberunt prisci vestigia, Fructus Sponte feret nova Terra Terra nova, sive Paradisus instauratus. ibid. v. 13. suos, & solis amico Florescens radio, veterem superabit Edenem. Ingens effractis, sanctorum turba, R. Prima, quae est Piorum. Apoc. 20. 5, 6. sepulchris, Continuo exurget, Rerum quibus Ordo novatus Serviet. Hi faeili ac praesenti numine pleni Semper adorabunt Agnum, castis que lita bunt Pectoribus: Ib. 2, 3. vacui que metu (Serpente ligato Nè veteri illudat Paradisi fraude colonis) Huc illuc, superûm turmis comitantibus, ibunt. Nil habet hic juris Cerinthi ignava propago, Quae Veneri & Baccho male dedita,Apoc. 21. 27. vivit ad instar Porcorum: sed erit Mens pura in Corpore puro.Ephes. 5. 5. Nec genus aeternum Taedis reparabitur ullis;Luk. 20. 35. Absumptâ sed morte, tori quo que desinet usus: Angelicam caelebs imitabitur Incola vitam. Hîc decies centum totos Regnabitur Millennium beatum. Apo. 20. 6. annos Auspiciis sub Christe, tuis. Queîs deni que finem Sortitis, tumulis Gens impia surget apertis, Flebile judicium, ac paenas subitura perennes. R. secunda, sive impiorum. ibid. v. 12 Illa quidem mallet dormire in Secula; sed non Vindicis ira Dei patitur, ne que Buccina clangens. Ah! turba infelix, ad vitam reddita Letho Pejorem, semper Moriens, at mortua nunquam! Intereà Sancti sedes, AEternitas 1 Cor. 15 24, 28. Te dante, capessent AEthereas, vultú que Dei propiore fruentur. At tu, nate Deo, rebus jam ritè peractis, Subjicies tua Regna Patri, qui sumet Habenas, AEternúmque reget propriis Virtutibus Orbem. Hos ego, Marce. tibi (non ficti pignus amoris) Versiculos scripsi. Nec tu leve despice Munus. Christus abest, passim dominantur Crimina, sacris Nullus honor Studiis, nec habet pia Musa Patronum. Ast eadem vires, Christo veniente, resumet, Caelicolûm que sacros meditabitur aemula Cantûs.
Amico suo dilectissimo D. F. I. de praecedentibus POEMATIS. SOdalis O qui nullius indigus (Ut numen) uno te frueris, nimis, Amice, credens te beatum, Dum vacuâ dominaris Aulâ. Qui Conjugalis vincla Cubilis, & Commista saevis Gaudia Jurgiis Censes Capistrum non ferendum Nec Laqueum magis extimescis. Haec fronte laetâ suscipe Munera, Qucîs to fidelis donat amiculus: Nec pauperem dives Poetam Despice nec tenuem Camaenam. Dormire tecum, en! Juditha (Faeminas Odisse quamvis diceris) advolat: Quid abnegas? ah! quid scelesti Fata times Holophernis, insons? Non illa (non si viderit Uvidum) Nudabit ensem: Guadia tu feres, Francisce, vanâ quae Tyrannus Assyrius sibi mente finxit. Aut si virorum te capiant magis Laudes, in Hostem cernis ut Hicathrift Assurgat Heros, Patriae que Perniciem perimat Gigantem. AEterna (me ni Musa fefellerit) AEterna vives secula, publicae Salutis Assertor: nepotum Te series celebrabit omnis. Non semper unâ volvimur Orbitâ: Sed nunc amaenis serpere vallibus, Nunc arduâ delectat alâ Praecipites superare Montes. Nunc me revolvat mollis Amator, & Insana discat jura Cupidinis: Nunc Arma, duros & Labores Musa docet, dubiúm que Martem. Mox Bella damnans, Pacis Originem Nascente Christo dicere gestio, Oracla paudens, & Sibyllae Carminibus dare Lumen audax. Quin & Calores spirat amabiles Mors ipsa: vultum jam nova Purpura, Me dante, tingil, nec timendum Amplius est Libitina nomen. O Musa dulcis! Quas ego gratias Referre possim? Te Duce, pallidum Vitabo lethum: tu Sepulchri Sola potes superare Legem. Quò Diva, tendis? Define proprias Sonare Laudes. Sufficiat tibi Si fortè missam te libenter Accipiat, foveát que Amicus. FINIS.