TIME Is a Turne-Coate. OR Englands three-fold Metamorphosis.

Wherin is acted the Pensiue mans Epilogomena, to Londons late lamentable He­roicall Comi-Tragedie.

ALSO A Panegyricall Pageant-speech or Idylion pronounced to the Citie of London, vpon the entrance of her long expe­cted Comfort.

Qui color ater erat, nunc est contrarius atro.

Written by IOHN HANSON.

LONDON, Printed for I. H. and are to be sold at the signe of the Bible in Paules Church-yard.


TO THE RIGHT HO­NORABLE SIR THOMAS BEN­NET KNIGHT, LORD MAIOR OF the famous Citie of London, the right Worship­full Sir William Romley, and Sir Thomas Midleton Knights, and Sheriffes of the same Citie: increase of honor and euer-flourishing felicitie.

RIGHT Honorable and right Worshipfull, I haue long expe­cted, that some men of greater experience and grauer iudgment then my self, ere this should haue bent their studies to cōgratulate your prosperous designements with their learned Labours: not onely in this regard, that it hath seemed gracious in the eyes of Heauen, to turne the time of destruction into mirth and exhilaration, to dispell the cloudes of desola­tion from the splendant Sun of this Citie, and to seale vp the iawes of that starued Tyger, rauening and ran­ging too and fro with insatiate appetite, to gormandize indefinitely without partialitie: but also in respect of [Page]the proceedings in your general functions and callings; therein manifesting your ardent zeale to the Church and Commonwealth, in the reformation of some par­ticular and monstrous enormities nurced and fostred vp in the same Citie, wounding the hearts of many with the sting of Securitie, who thereby fall into a Le­thargie of their owne ruination: they being naturally like the Basilisk, who by stinging a man, prouoketh him to conclude his destruction with the period of a sweet sleepe; which to discusse vpon more amply, were but to light a torch, when the Sunne boasteth in his vertical point, or to multiplie leaues to a greene tree. But percei­uing the turne of Times euent to fall out opposite to my expectation, and a time of respiration exhibited vn­to me by sacred Prouidence, (for Deus nobis haec otiafe­cit) I (though most vnfit, not so much in regard of my litle scholership and reading, as in respect of my iuue­nilitie and lesse experience, though Assiduè discens plu­rima, fiam senex) haue thought it not impertinent to my dutie, as also consonant to your dignities, to cast this poore mite of feruent affection and congratulation, in­to the rich treasurie of your honorable and worshipfull Patronage: being inforced hereupon to vse the meanes of that poore man, who hauing neither gold nor iewels, presented both his hands full of running water to Arta­xerxes. And the rather, for that I behold many presi­dents and pregnant demonstrations of a flourishing Spring-tide of happinesse substituted to your predomi­nation [Page]and gouernment; in the constituting of neces­sarie and requisite lawes for the supplanting and depo­pulating of vice; and being constituted, are strictly ob­serued and executed by your importunate industrie, (which (as Caesar saith) is Fortunae Imperator, and vrgeth an assent vltra vires rationis) leading this citie as peace­able Conductors, (or as Theodosius did Rome) to a fruit­full Autumne. For Archidamus being asked, what made the Lacedaemonian kingdome to flourish, answered: First, the lawes; and next, the Magistrates obseruing the Lawes: and Aristotle saith, that Magistratus est custos legis, also Xenophon: [...] Non dif­fert bonus Princeps à patre bono. Whereupon may be in­ferred, that Magistrates (as Patres patriae) ought serious­ly and with iudiciall precaution, not onely to prescribe ordinances tending to the generall benefite of a citie or commonwealth; but also to be respectiue (as the father tendreth the successiue fortune of his child with care and vigilancie) that they foreslow not their progression in the performance of their due execution: for Non de­cet principem virum totam noctem dormire, cui populi gu­bernacula commissasunt, & à cuius cura pendent ingentia rerum momenta. But lest any man should obiect against me, that I pretend by a kind of aemulation and blandilo­quence to adorne your merits like a Barbarian image, as Alexander was by Midius: or on the contrarie, to taxe me of calumniation with this inueterate Axiome: In medio tutissimus ibis: (which two, proue the Canker­worms [Page]of a flourishing countrie: for Diogenes the Cy­nicke being asked, what kind of beasts are most deuou­ring; he answered: that of tame beasts, the Flatterer, and of wild beasts, the Back-biter,) therefore so to a­bandon the first, as not culpable of the last, I will cleaue to the golden Medium, breaking off that discourse, and cease to discusse vpon such a Theame. And now to returne to my old taske, I humbly intreate your fauou­rable entertainment to these my vnpolished lines, be­ing hewed out and squared by one of the meanest of Appolloes Artificers. And I the more seriously desire it, for that I am deeply resolued, they shal find a sufficient shelter vnder the wings of your Honorable and Wor­shipfull names and Patronage, as vnder the receptacle of a strong fortified Testudo, against the yelping chaps of those snarling Zoylists, qui potiùs pro consuetudine, quàm proferocitate latrant, barking more for custome then curstnesse: who by disgorging their mud-mixed censures vpon the studious essayes of particulars, (for Apollo nullos habet inimicos, nisi nimbos) do resolue with themselues by that meanes to win a purchase of a lau­reall applause, and to erect an eternall monument of re­putation to themselues, vpon the disgraces of other mens indeauours: but thereby prouing culpable to thē ­selues of their owne ignorance, and ripping vp the bo­wels of their imperfections and grosse fatuities, in the calumniating of ingenious enterprises, and by brin­ging backe with impudent arrogance those stolne [Page]sparkes which they snatched frō Appolloes sacred flames, whereby the moistned muddie motions of their brains are enforced to euaporate in a smoothering heate; do appeare to the world, to surpasse in immanitie, the An­thropophagi or Canibals; who, though they gormandize on other mens flesh, yet will not deuoure themselues. Thus hoping, that these vnlettered lines shal passe with­out disturbance vnder the couert of your worthie pro­tections, I humbly intreat your Honor and Worships, to admit this poore pittance into your rich banquet­ting-house of acceptation and tolleration, with no lesse willing mind, then by course of affectionate congratu­lation it is presented vnto your hands; which, if it may find free accesse, I will turne my sequele essayes with the turne of ensuing Time, more deepely to conuerse with the Muses thereby to bring foorth a further ma­nifestation of my ardent affection towards your wor­thie personages. In the meane time, Heauens prosper your worthie proceedings.

Your Honor and Worships humbly deuoted: John Hanson.

The Author, and his Booke.

HElpe, helpe, alas, else am I quite vndone,
O shroud me close from sight of these blacke feends,
Who wound with Scorpions stings: I cannot shunne;
Alas for ayde, some ayde, sweet gentle friends!
Why, how now Booke, what newes? what, dost thou dreame?
Or art thou quite distract, of sense bereaued?
Or do thy Thoughts discusse on dolefull Theame?
Yea sure, I dream'd, yet not by Dreames deceiued:
For in my Dreame, me thought thou badst me post
Through euery Countrie, Citie, farre and neare,
To take my lodging with each erabbed Host,
And beare the lash of each lend Censurer.
Why, so thou must: then run, no time delay:
Stand not amaz'd at euery carping braine;
And if thou meetst a Cynicke by the way,
If he looke grim, looke sterne on him againe.
But if graue Cato chance to meete with thee,
And deigne on thine his Iudgement to suspend;
Do thou him reuerence low, with cap and knee:
Tell him, for learn'd aduice to him I send.
What if proud Argas meet me in the street,
Who robs Apollo of that sacred Fire,
Which kindleth ardent rage in his cold sprite,
And driues his muddie-frost-bit-Braine t'aspire:
He'le turne me ore, and tosse me in his snare,
Chopping my Subiect in his snarling chaps;
And in his turning, turne my coate threed-bare,
Within the pocket of his threed-bare stops.
What, that staru'd hungrie catch-pole-paper knaue,
Who ne're durst looke harsh Horace in the face?
That stealing-Sense, that Sentence-snatching slaue,
Who feeds on fragments scraped from each place?
What he, that doth his Braines a begging send,
For some ragg'd Theame to comment on at large,
Catching a puddle-wharfe-Discourse by th'end,
Chaunts it like whore-house tales in westerne Barge?
Who he, that still his Sun-burnt Sense inclines
To turne his state, till faine to turne his purse;
And teares his huing from lasciuious lines,
Turnes Good to Naught, and Naught doth turne to worse?
What he, whose Wit the whore and strumpet plaies,
Got great with child by Latines two or three;
And then cries out, (for midwife neuer staies)
Deliuerd of some monstrous Bastardie?
Turne him off to the whipping-post of Time;
Tell him, his loathsome stinking breath infects thee:
Then turne his chaps to chop some rascall Rime,
To chew some hobling doggrell Balladrie.
But if he sweares, he'le turne thy coate with spight,
And turne thee leafe by leafe, and line by line:
Bid him go turne his nap-lesse coate by night,
Who turnes his coate more oft, then thou turn'st thine.
But he that on his Sattins seates his Thought,
Sinking to hell betweene his Dockesies armes,
Will turne his Fore-top, sweare by heau'n, t'is nought,
As though that oath coniur'd, like Magicke charmes.
Turne that word (Naught) downe to his heart againe,
From whence that viprous terme forc't free accesse,
Where caues of vgly venim'd Snakes remaine:
There let (naught) sting his soule without redresse.
Yet will Carnalitie, the vsuring Atheist,
The Murtherer, the immane Sodomite:
The Cruell man, and terr ene Sensualist,
Turne are my leaues and teare them in despite:
Turne backe with scorne my wholesome Counsell giu'n,
Turning me off, my graue aduice expell.
Then turne them vp into the hands of Heau'n,
Who'le turne them downe into the chaps of hell.
Now get thee hence, post on with turning Rime,
Turning thy sense to all, thy selfe to paine:
And turne thy hap to euery turne of Time,
Though to thy selfe returnes the smallest gaine.
‘Vade, ambula, volens iusta.’

R. B. De Argumento huius Libri encomium.

EN tibi depingit Diuúm benè gesta Libellus,
Funcra Magnatum, lugubria Fota virorum:
Sicvolat ipsa dies, velox vt semita Phoebi,
Ore vorat tacito, fallitq, volubilis aetas,
Tabida depellit, cunctus incorpore morbos:
Instruit exemplis inopem; detorquet & aegrum.
Vis prudens fieri, sis foelix temporis ipse
Filius, vt renouat varios aduertito motus:
Augescunt aliae gentes, aliae minuuntur;
Mortenigra breuner mutantur saecla animantum,
Et quasicursores vitarum Lampada tradunt:
Fulmine diuino trepidat sic mundus iniquue.

Libri & Authoris Encomium.

COgitur iste Liber (mel tanquam floribus) horte
Musaico, nitidis splendens lectis (que) coronis.
Tempore sis foelix, foelix Genio quoque tempus:
Lauriferas laudes sapiens cantabit Apollo.
Tempure confulges, insusus Palladis arte,
Tu quia Pernassimontes renouas (que), ruinas.
Tempore virescis, brumali tempore flores,
Nectare perlautus, hauslisq, Aganyppidis vndis.
Tempore, frendit Aper, ringitq, Lupus, Leo rugit,
Tu tamen in mundo, vt splendet, lucebis, Eóus:
Tempora temporibus transuertis tabida firmis:
Foelici viridis decoret te tempore laurus.
T. G.

To the iudiciall Reader.

I write not of victorious Hanniball,
Of Romes old murthered sons, nor Pompeys fall,
Of valiant Hector, nor Achilles shield,
Burning Vesuvius, nor th'Elysian field;
Nor of huge arme-strong Hercul's Iôle:
Of lone-sicke Attis, nor beauteous Danaë,
To whom (she prison'd in a mured Tower)
Old Saturnes sonne rain'd downe the siluer shower:
Nor of Ioues conquering heire, nor Pryaps bed,
Nor of the sports of wanton Ganimed.
But of that Faire, the fairest of Earths Faire,
To whom in troupes supernall Nymphs repaire:
A shining Diamond, a radiant Bright,
Which in earths Center yeeldeth clearest Light:
A precious Pearle, cleare as Aurora's Sun,
Whose hote-reflecting beames will not be done:
A glorious Starre, to Heau'n and Earth combin'd,
The brightest Gemme that ere in Albion shin'd.
Of heighth, of depth, of earth, of heau'n, of hell,
Of vgly monsters, shapes that do excell:
Ofioy, of wo, of horror, mirth, and feare,
Of restlesse Motions whirl'd about the Sphare,
And turn'd circumferent with Typhonian Time:
Thus Time hath task't me to a turning Rime.
Two ardent Passions kindled by Desire,
VVithin my breast at once began t'aspire:
Griefe bad me write, but Ioy straight answerd, nay:
Ioy bad me sing, then Griefe aduis'd me stay:
Griefe waxed pale, while Ioy more sterne did show,
Ioy sprightly stood, Griefe scorn'd the ouerthrow.
Thus Ioy and Griefe, striuing with aduerse spite,
Twixt Griefe and Ioy, I fram'd my pen to write:
For turne-coate Time perforce directs my quill,
To vrge it sing consorting to his will.
But sith my Muse wants that Heroicke spirit,
In stately straines to eternize their merit;
Proiects her selfe to grauer Iudgements sight,
Catching swift-winged Time on instant flight.
If smooth-toung'd Caliop these lines peruse,
The want of Age doth want of Art excuse:
My head's ingirt with iuie, not with baies,
Ordain'd for deeper wits, that merit praise.
Friendly scan all, yet scandalize me not,
VVith the detracting Toung of euery Sot.
If well, then censure well, if ill, dispraise it;
Yet would I know, if he be wise that sayes it.

Nec Momum nec Mimum metuo.

TIME Is a Turne-coate: OR Englands threefold Metamorphosis. Post tristia, Leta.

Panàite Pierides vestro sacra ostia vati.

YE foule-fac'd Furies which the Stygian keepe,
Ye grizly Feends of the Cymmerian deepe,
Ye hel-hounds droupe, and howle in sulphur'd caues;
Stand ye amaz'd grim Plutoes damned slaues;
Rise vp from torride lakes, and gaze afarre;
Loe! Earth presents to Heau'n a glistering Starre.
Ye Powers diuine which in the heau'nsare fixed;
Ye Spirits that with the wandring starres are mixed:
Conioyne in one ye Sphaeres caelestiall:
Ye Muses nine, performe this Funerall;
Condole her death, whose glorious life was so,
As by her life, her death was freed from wo:
Whose life repleat with grace, exempt from strife;
Whose death's transformd to neuer-dying life.
Cynthia, faire Sister to blacke ladie Night,
That Gehons streames with golden Icons dight;
To whom heau'ns senior Lights proffer their dutie,
For thy surpassing and refulgent Beautie:
Renounce thy borrowed Shine, reuoke thy race,
With clouds of Languishment remaske thy face.
Sad Melpomen with tragicke Scaenes relent
Each Marble rocke and obdurated Flint:
Sigh foorth deepe accents of thy sacred Loue,
To cause the stonie-hearted Sauage moue:
Straine out Threnodiae, thy assiduall note,
For Time hath roab'd himselfe with sable Cote.
Ye sacred Nymphs hang down your Sun-bright haires
Bedew your cheekes with penitentiall teares:
Conduct me to some solitarie Cell,
Wherein I may with pale-fac'd Sorrow dwell.
Alas, my Muse doth faint ere she proceed,
To tune Encomions on a mournfull Reed:
Wise Caliope, sweet Queene of Eloquence,
Inspire her Thoughts with sacred influence.
Take courage (Muse) pure Zeale shall stand thy barre,
Looke not agast on euery frowning Starre:
Plucke vp thy sprite from pitchie Acheron:
Solace amidst the fields of Hellicon:
Now bath thy selfe in the Pierian spring,
Where thy sad Sisters mournfully do sing:
Go seeke that Phoenix mounted in the skie,
Transform'd to euer-during Dignitie;
The Phoenix of our age, Earths onely Faire,
Faiths Empresse, and heau'ns high glorious Haire:
Englands Phoenix admir'd for Raritie,
For Beautie, Vertue, and pure Chastitie:
O shee's consum'd with heau'ns resplendent Light,
That from her ashes one might rise as bright,
And flourish foorth vpon the verdant ground,
Whose paralel in Art is scarcely found.
Why striues my Muse to stellifie her name?
The bright-eyed-wondring world diuulg'd her fame;
And Fame it selfe flies swiftly from her nest,
To blaze her honor from the East to West.
Sad Sicknesse, the pale Harbinger of Death,
Foredoom'd the losse of Syrinx daughters breath:
Blacke furious Fate, that wrought such deepe despight,
To locke faire Phoebe from Endimions sight;
I meane Eliza: ô write that name againe,
That with reuoluing Time it may remaine:
Eliza, she who was profound in Art,
Is now strucke dead with Thanatos his dart;
Eliza, who in many dangers stood,
For Gods high glorie, and her subiects good:
By her, th'incarnate Gospell was possest;
Through her, all Britaines Ile Iehoua blest;
For her, the heau'ns rain'd down such plenteous store,
As Natures greedie Sons could wish no more.
Honor imbrac'd her, Art by her did stand,
Prudence attended on her genious hand,
Iustice in Mercie with her bare the sway,
Glorie infinite her last Catastrophé.
The fatall Sisters ioyntly haue decreed,
Old Atropos should cut that vitall threed,
Which counites the Substance with the Soule;
Nūbing each Sense with leane-chapt Deaths cōtroule.
This state is incident to Natures lot;
Drawne through the world in Times still chariot,
With two vnruly Steedes, and hurl'd along
By restlesse Motion and Mutation:
At length they leaue her on Deaths dismall stage:
As being wearie of their cariage:
Then his grim Sergeant comes without controule,
T'arrest her bodie, dis-unite her soule:
He takes no bribes, but strikes (impartiall)
The Begger, Baron, Caitiffe, King, and all.
If Death had fear'd to stop Astraeaes breath,
Then had he spared Queene Elizabeth:
Whose soule is now enthroniz'd boue the skies,
Where glorious Cherub's sing her Exequies:
Through Ioues broad milk-white path now is she gone,
And stately royaliz'd on Angels throne:
The siluer Vault with Epods deepe resounds,
Of her rare Vertue which on Earth abounds.
I wish Eliza from vs could not passe,
Who made each place a heau'n wherein she was.
Th'Almightie Ioue so lock't Virginitie
From Antidotes and banefull Trecherie,
That burning poyson ne're effected harme,
Although confected with a Magicke charme.
How many treasons, direfull accidents,
Base-bred complots and experiments,
Conspir'd her death; yet still preseru'd was she
By heau'ns eternall Triple-Vnitie?
How many striu'd to stop Elizaes breath?
Yet (to their shame) she died a liuing death;
For which we laud th'Immortall Deitie,
Who mixeth ioy with sad calamitie.
Her fame on earth is painted by all Seuen,
Her corps in Lead, her soule a Saint in heauen.
Eliza liu'd, now is Eliza dead,
And Dauid rais'd in her Angellike stead;
Shee's quite extinct, yet hath she left behind
The true Idaa of her princely mind;
Right royall IAMES, the Britons gracious King,
Whose honor through the circling Globe doth ring.
The Rose is cropt which glistered in each face,
And yet as faire sprung instantly in place:
A Rose most sweet and odoriferous,
A Rose of grace to cheare and comfort vs;
A Rose that springeth in a Northerne blast,
A Rose whose lustre doth in Winter last.
O Wonder: that rough Boreas dropping wing,
Should waft such showres to a desired Spring!
England, prostrate thy selfe with folded hands,
(Whose ioyes are numberlesse euen as the sands)
Before the powerfull and almightie Throne,
Who gaue regard vnto thy grieuous mone,
Sending to thee such an Athenian King,
Whose learning is the round Orbes wondering:
A soueraigne Balme vnto thy Corasiue;
Which did thy half-dead-wounded heart reuiue,
When Phoebus Lute tuned his mournfull note,
To make Time turne his glistring golden cote.
Couragious Cato with his warlike traines,
While rang'd in rancke vpon the champion plaines,
Sweet-breathed Zephyrus vp softly blew
The fragrant flowers which in medowes grew,
Vpon their glittering targets: then they cride:
Aglorious Triumph shall to vs betide.
Euen so the Flowers of fruitfull Brittanie,
(Blowne with the wind of zealous Loyaltie)
Did congregate in troupes, proclaim'd a King,
Whose name once heard, most gladsom ioy did bring.
When glorious Titan hath his compasse run,
The foule-maskt gloomie Night ensues thereon;
Bright Sol declin'd, Luna skips in the skie,
Approou'd by Nature in Philosophie.
Iehoua derogated Englands Light,
And yet pursude no duskie darksome Night;
No sooner Britaine had her bright-Eye lost,
But straight another gaz'd from Northern coast:
No sooner did Eliza take her flight,
But instantly king IAMES appear'd in sight:
For whom true hearts render immortall praise
To high Iehoua, who this Starre did raise
To yeeld them light, to stand their soueraigne Lord,
And Patron pure of the soule-sauing word.
(O blessed Time, when peerelesse Princes preach,
When Dauid doth his sonne Gods precepts teach!)
He is the sense-concluding Period
Of Englands solace, charactred by God;
The pure quintessence of her flourishing state,
To whom her life is worthie subiugate.
O what a learned Varro hath she gain'd,
(Who mou'd blith Gelos euen when harts complaind)
A Cicero for flowing Eloquence,
A valiant Caesar for Magnificence.
Don Phoebus rising from his scarlet bed,
Out of his easterne Closet thrust his head;
Spreading his flame-hair'd broad vermilion lockes,
Vpon the earth, the sea, the trees and rockes;
Espide a fairer shining here below,
Pluckt in his head, no more his face durst show.
Now England, England, shake off sad annoy,
Thy forts are full replenished with ioy;
Let all thy Turrets glister in the aire,
Thy Faire not turn'd to fowle, but Fowle to faire.
Now boast thy selfe amidst thy sommers Pride,
Thy Ebbe's transformd into a flowing Tide
Of Mirth and Gladnesse: honor God for ay,
Who turn'd thy Night into a Sun-shine Day.
What greater graces to thee could he bring,
Then grace thy Land with such a gracious King?
Who lends an eare to euery clients crie,
Decides his case with princely Grauitie.
Lycurgus-like hath he prescrib'd his lawes,
To keepe poore Codrus out of Croesus iawes;
He succour sends to all opprest by Might,
Defends true Irus, and maintaines his right.
By him thou reapst the wished fruites of peace;
And for his sake God giues thee huge increase
Of thy fat haruest and thy wel-til'd fields,
Thy withered Plants do bud, and blossome yeelds.
For Phoebus Lute descants a gladsome note,
Whereat Time skips, and turnes his sable Cote.
What if th' Almightie had stretch't out his hand,
To scourge Impietie within thy Land;
And raz'd thy walles with flat confusion,
With ciuill broiles and proud Rebellion.
Then had thy famous Cities gone to wracke,
And euery towne bene subiect to the sacke:
Then Rigor would haue rul'd and borne the sway,
Reason exil'd and banisht quite away.
Then would the mother dread her dreadlesse child:
Then spotlesse virgins would haue bene defil'd.
All these (O London) to thy extreme paine,
With present spoile wert likely to sustaine:
Then hadst thou languisht in th'effusion
Of bloudie murther and occision:
Then Phoebus Lute a Threnos would haue strained;
And Time with teares his golden vestments stained.
Me thinke I heare the wailefull weeping cries,
Of wretched Dames in dreadfull miseries:
Me thinke I heare the thundring Canons sound,
Whose bullets gainst the battred walles rebound:
Me thinke I see huge troupes of glistring shields,
And coursing Palfreys trampling ore the fields:
Me thinke I see how souldiers wounded lye
With gasping breath, and yet they cannot dye.
But heau'ns great King to thee propitious,
In lieu of Mars sent graces wonderous;
Permitting still his Light to shine with thee,
That thou mightst walke in perspicuitie.
Romes Minotaure, that monstrous enemie
To braue Britanniaes peerelesse Progenie;
In rancor guzled for his annuall food,
T'imbrue his throate with Innocencies blood;
Whetting his blacke exacuated fangs,
To murther sacred soules with tortring pangs:
Till Albions Theseus with his conquering hand,
Redeem'd her state from tributarie band;
And slue this Beast distent with irefull fell,
Grapling with death in his prodigious cell:
By Ioues decree reduc'd her Babes away,
So wan the loue of heau'ns Pasiphaë.
Adopted England, sweet Elysian Ile,
Obserue, how God reuiewes with a smile;
Accumulates a sympathie of ioy,
To countervaile thy late-sustain'd annoy.
Remember, that twice twentie winters told,
Thou neuer tastedst of that freezing cold,
And indigence of true Religion,
To thee oblig'd by perfect vnion:
Mercie hath set a supersedeas free
On Iustice, which conuicts Iniquitie:
So loth is Heau'n to take reuenge of sin,
Grants thee more spacious walkes to solace in;
Reuiues thy saplesse Trees which withering dide,
Thy wals of Grace with Truth reediside.
Euen as the Parent educates his child,
By obsecrations and corrections mild,
To fraught his soule with filiall reuerence,
Extenuates Rigor by sweet Indulgence:
Yet still if he progresse in lusts content,
Then he inflicts a triple punishment.
So doth th'Almightie powerfully intice
Thy feet to walke in heau'ns faire Paradise,
And fosters thee with nurcing milke of life,
Which yeelds an end to endlesse terrene strife.
His glorious eye, Scrutator of thy hart,
Delighting not to view thy ruthlesse smart;
Protracts reuenge to thy affections lust,
As though the Iudge forgetteth to be iust.
Numbers of daies hast thou possest the light
Of his pure Gospell in thee shining bright;
And now t'enrich thee from his treasures store,
Hath caus'd it shine farre clearer then before.
Yet still thou liest in darke Obscuritie,
Wrapt in the depth of Sensualitie;
Repugnantly, with Aesops frozen Snake,
Reiects his mercies and his grace forsake:
Spurning the Clemencie which he hath showne,
To monstrous crimes & deepe transgressions knowne
And most perspicuous to his piercing Eye,
Vindicta's battering gainst the lostie skie.
Thou sufferedst Vertue in thine iron age,
To tread the lonelesse path to Hermitage:
For which his heauie Iudgement foorth did flie,
To counterchecke that great Solemnitie,
Which thou esteemedst at so high a rate,
And consonant with Kings renowmed state;
Farre dissonant to thy expected Fame,
Who still aspires to dignifie her name.
Consider how he hath stretch'd out his hand,
To scourge the Mother-citie of thy land,
Breaking her sinewes by diuine Pretence,
With fierie shafts of feuer Pestilence:
Withered her Flowers with blasting-venim'daire,
Driuing her vp-growne Trees to trembling Feare.
His arrowes sharpe in euery corner flie,
And euery street did wound outragiously;
In furie smiting father, sonne, andall,
None could eschue the stroke of sudden fall.
Euen as the Tygresse rauening for her food,
In furious rage doth range alongst the wood;
Who in some darksome denne hath long bene pent
From meat and sustenance, which makes herrent
And teare the next shee meeteth by the way,
As nothing partiall, so she gaines a pray.
Euen so this Plague, the Tygresse fierce of heau'n,
Such lethall wounds, such large assaults haue giu'n;
Consuming, seuering, midst the hugest throng,
The youth from age, the aged from the young:
Insatiatly deuour'd in euery place;
None could persist fore her contagious face.
O heauie England, now behold and see,
Thy Beautie stricken with the leprosie
Of blasphemies, imbrac'd without regard:
To whom the Lord hath sent a iust reward.
Thy grieuous sins with dreadfull noyse did crie
For iust Reuenge vnto his Maiestie;
Who can both strike and heale, preserue and wound,
Erect thy wals, or raze them to the ground.
How many wonders for thee hath he wrought?
How many heau'nly Lessons thee hath taught
T'asswage thy arrogance, suppresse thy hate?
Yet still thou standest in a fearefull state.
As he reduc'd his chosen Israell,
From sauage cruelties of Egypts fell;
When they were plung'd in perils dangerous,
At his commaund (O wonder maruellous)
On either side the barking billowes stood,
Whilst that they marched through the brinie flood,
When their pursuing foes would them haue slaine,
Were ouerwhelm'd amidst the troubled Maine:
Yet did they murmure in the Wildernesse,
As too vngratefull for their rare successe.
But heau'ns iust Iudge incens'd with wrathfull ire,
Powrd foorth his plagues vpon their vaine desire;
While they tooke repast on their lustfull will,
Vile venimous beasts their grauer age did kill.
Euen thus (ô England) God hath dealt with thee,
Conducting thee through seas of miserie;
Redeem'd thy Race from rage of forraine spoile,
Casting thy foes to base-dishonor'd foile:
Yet all these graces not incite thy hart,
With humblenesse to cure thy curelesse smart;
Demurres thy dayes in dilatorie care
Of worldly lusts, which Heau'n will neuer spare:
But in thy heighth of pompe and iolitie,
The massacring Angell came to visite thee;
Slaughtring thy people with reuengefull sword,
The Harbinger of Death sent from the Lord.
These sad euents arose and came to passe,
As it befell to old Diagoras;
Who when his sons th'Olympian games had won,
Casting their garlands in their Trophees done
About his necke: the mens applauding voyce,
And rare delight did make his heart reioyce:
But while his soule repleat with chearefull grace,
Was stung by Death ere he mou'd from the place.
Euen so whilst thou in Pleasures gardens stood,
Thy siluer lakes were turn'd to brookes of bloud;
Thy flouds of ioyes were turn'd to seas of teares,
And lightsome Mirth to interrupting Feares.
Thus cast from top of climing Dignitie,
Into the depth of darkest miserie;
The hungrie Earth deuour'd thee vp, alas,
As Corah, Dathan, and Abiram was:
Thy Anthemes, Trophees, and thy Excellence,
Were swallowed vp by starued Pestilence:
Thou wert consum'd with Death on euery side,
As bold Belshazzar was amidst his pride.
Nought but Threnodiae danc'd amidst thy throng,
Whereat Time wet his cheekes, and slunke along.
Corrupted London, Sinke of Surquedrie,
Thou that supports this yoke of miserie,
Impos'd vpon thee by th'Almightie Lord,
For the reiecting of his sacred word.
His Minaces brought no remorce to thee;
But sleptst secure in beds of Luxurie,
Feeding thy Will with Pleasures lustfull beite,
Did cast thy Soule the huskes of slie Deceit.
The Prophet Ionah, Troubler of the sea,
Sent by heau'ns King to sinfull Niniue:
So soone as he approch'd her streets so wide,
With vehement speech in vengefull spirit cride:
O Niniueh, thy monstrous facts auoyde,
In fortie dayes else shalt thou be destroyde.
Then King and Commons ioyntly did agree,
With humbled hearts and zealous feruencie,
In mourning sackcloth seriously to pray
The worlds chiefe Iudge, his burning wrath to stay:
(The brutish Animals which harmelesse be,
VVere taxed with this generall penaltie)
VVith bleeding soules and drearie countenance,
The glorie of the Highest did aduance;
Sincerely turning to Submission,
That he might turne from them Destruction:
So sweet attonement Mournings did affoord,
Restrain'd the stroke of his two-edged sword.
Not fortie dayes, but fortie yeares and more,
(Wherein thou mightst thy grieuous sinnes deplore)
Thousands of Ionahs sent by heau'ns great Lord,
In thee resolu'd to preach his sacred word.
Bonarges thundering in euery street;
Thy deafe-charm'd sins would not his voice regreet;
But Mole-like plung'd in slauish Lusts content,
On which the Lord inflicts a punishment.
As wise Martha, the Syrian Prophetesse,
With Marius caried through his wars successe;
By Necromancie in her Sacrifice,
Presag'd the trophees of his victories:
But once not tolerating her aduice,
He bought the day (too deare) with bloudie price.
So God hath sent his Angels from aboue,
Still to be resident with his sacred loue;
Preaching the tidings of celestiall Ioy,
Which warres nor pestilence can ere destroy:
He conquered Death, and in his conquering brought
Life in thy death; yet thou setst him at nought:
Till he in wrath thy stubburnnesse conuicts:
On grieuous sins, most grieuous plagues inflicts.
Foule noysome crimes in euery corner swarme,
Deadly-infectious wickednesse doth harme:
In euery house and loose-led Families,
Are fostred vp these dainn'd enormities;
These take their place as chiefe, commanding all
Amongst thy precepts Oeconomicall:
Pride, Murther, Auarice, Vsurie, Deceipt,
With sauage Sodomie, hels alluring baite;
Blasting Blasphemie, Rape and Crueltie:
These are the Actors in thy Tragedie:
Shrowding Tractates of viperous Poperie,
Vnder the shades of ciuill Pollicie,
Reiects the tidings of heau'ns Messengers,
And quite subuerts the sacred Ministers.
Thy Widowes mourne opprest by cruell might:
Thy Orphanes weepe, dis-franchis'd of their right:
Thy Trades Mechanicall are tax'd so hie
With Rent and Lease they fall to penurie:
With craft thou grindst the faces of the poore,
To feed thee fat, while they starue at thy doore.
Thou sitst in silke and costly soft array,
And viewes thy brother perishing in the way,
With pinching cold lye shiuering on the ground;
To sow him coates no Dorcas can be found.
When thou perceiu'st thy friends Extremitie
Traduc'd to Want by Fortunes casualtie:
Nescio, thou' criest, no Mercie canst thou show,
No streames of Pitie from thy heart will flow:
To his penurious Lacke no succours sends:
When wealth declines, thy flattering friendship ends.
Xanthippus dogge condemnes thy sauagenesse,
Who, when his master iourneyed on the seas,
Swam by his ship euen from the shoarie sand,
Till he arriu'd in Salamina's land;
And left him not till he the citie spied,
With wearied lims then laid him downe and died.
Thy Friend thou leauest in his deepe Distresse,
Wrapt in the waues of endlesse Carefulnesse:
Scorning Compassion, no Comfort bring;
But as the Swallow, Herald of the Spring,
Will sing with vs while Sommers beautie lasts;
But takes her flight when Winter breath's his blasts.
So while his Sommers-flourishing wealth doth flow,
Most firme in Friendship thou thy selfe wilt show;
And wilt conuerse in smooth-fram'd words each day,
Thy toung pronounce suppos'd Apocripha:
When Fortunes freezing frownes benum his store,
Thou art a Stranger, he thy Friend no more.
Thus weakest Wants the smallest Succors gaine,
The nakedst Need the latest Helps obtaine:
How true is that which may be answered then?
More kindnesse oft is showne by Dogs, the Men.
Thou studiest still Inuention to suffice,
And deckst thy selfe like Protean Prodigies,
In monstrous shapes, and garish rude attire,
Deuotes thy soule to swelling Prides desire;
In worldy ioyes consumest euery day,
With Zeale affoording scarce an houre to pray.
That christall Ice, which lends my bodie light,
Hath bene dissolu'd to teares, depriu'd of sight;
My hart-strings broke with dolorous complaint,
My soule hath mourn'd in forcible constraint;
When I haue ambulated longst the street,
And oft this Monster haue I chanc'd to meet:
A Britaine borne, bedight Castilian-wise,
A Ganle in shape, a Thuscane in disguise;
His brauerie lin'd with enuious Pride; at least
A Man in forme, in facts a brutish Beast.
O that
Semper la­chrimabat.
Heraclitus were resident,
To powre foorth streames of teares in sad lament,
For Albions virgins, who from Grace do slide,
Surpassing Sions Daughters in their pride;
Prides shop it selfe full fraught with Fopperie,
May patterns draw from their Varietie.
As Helens shape, (the wofull wracke of Troy)
Was brauely limned by Apelles boy,
In rich attire, and sumptuous shining gold;
Yet foule in face, not amorous to behold.
So some resemble Helens picture here,
That bigly brag in gorgeous garments deare;
But nothing beautifull to Reasons eye,
Patch the defects of Natures pouertie;
Adorne with silkes, infuse them with perfumes,
Like ietting birds bedeckt with others plumes.
How canst thou thinke (thy sins growne vp so hie)
With haplesse hope t'escape Impunitie?
Canst thou resolue, that God will spare his hand,
To view such Hydra's fostred in thy Land?
No, no, his Wrath consumes like smoking fire,
Thou liest as Flaxe before his burning ire;
He'le crop thee of from full Maturitie,
And cast thee foorth to bitter Miserie.
At his command, the sword shall ruinate,
Thy gates shall mourne, and streets be desolate,
Thy Citie grone, enthral'd with deepe distresse,
And Iim howle within thy Pallaces:
Satyres and Apes shall dance within thy bowers,
Ostriges and Scrich owles crie in ruinous towers:
No voyce of man on thy wals shalt thou heare,
Nor light of lampe in any house appeare.
Heau'ns grant thy heart t'affect and feare this so,
As that thou neuer feele or tast this Wo.
Thy children deare in their quotidian sport,
Blasphemously the name of God extort;
Their battring oaths against the heau'ns rebound;
This hideous noise in house and street doth sound.
They scoffe Elisha in decrepit age,
With arrogance reuile the graue and sage;
Till Ioue sent foorth a she-Beare from his wood,
To gormandize on their decocted bloud.
How earnestly thou striu'st (for their defence)
To curbe them from contagious Pestilence;
For their soules health thou neuer takest care:
Such as the Parents, such the Children are.
Thy Trades-men watch to vndermine each other,
And early rise to circumuent their brother,
In buying, selling, traffiquing for gaines;
By which poore Truth impouerishment sustaines.
Thy head-strong Seruants impudently stray
From sin to sin, vpon the Sabbath day,
Heaping vp Mischiefes on themselues and thee,
Plucke on their heads earths iust Calamitie.
These are the swords of Desolation,
These are the Agents in subuersion,
These are contagious Plagues, diseased, foule;
These are the sores and botches of thy soule,
These are ordures which noysomnesse affoord
Vp to the nosthrils of the glorious Lord:
These are the Scourges of thy leud offence;
These are th'Inductors of heau'ns Pestilence.
O London, then what terror wert to see
Thy streets exempt of popularities?
And nought but cries and dolefull horrors yeeld,
Ore-growne with grasse as in the verdant field:
The master from his seruant snatch'd away,
The seruant from his master bearing sway:
The children fatherlesse each where were found,
The fathers childlesse in deepe Dolor drown'd:
The husband from his neare-espoused wife,
The trustfull friend bereaued of his life:
No kinsman scaping to interre his brother,
Not one scarce left to mourne and weepe for other.
Thy tender Virgins sprung from Natures grace,
(Who once adorn'd and beautifide the face
Of all thy streets, with rosiall visage bright,
As splendant Stars, a cleare and glorious Night:)
Besmear'd their pure and proper Lineaments,
With scalding Sighs, and pitifull Complaints:
Their Feature deck't with diffidentall Feares,
And drown'd in salt vncessant-flowing Teares.
Thy Youth howl'd out, amaz'd themselues to see
Bereft of Vigor and Validitie.
Thy ramparts mouln'd, thy gates condol'd their state,
Because no stranger ingresse sought thereat,
To view thy stately Towers at solemne Feasts,
Replenish'd then with Owles and lothsome Beasts.
Thy paths breath'd sighes which did vntrampled lie,
No huge Recourse or Concourse walk'd thereby;
Nor scarce one foot-step figured on their face,
But clinging Brambles did vsurpe their place.
Thy streets which once with gloriousnesse did show,
Kneel'd as Homagers to solitarie We;
Where noble States obtain'd most free accesse,
Resembled then the vast of Wildernesse.
Thy selfe dist weepe, yea weep in mournfull wise,
And faire Aurora visited with thy cries,
And from thy bitter anguish could not cease,
When Vesper drew to his declining ease.
Each bird and beast with tranquile sleepe possest,
When Night appear'd, imbrac'd their vsuall rest:
But thou consumdst the day in deepe Complaints,
Disturbdst the night with loathsome Languishments;
Thy Eyes like two deepe Fountaines ay did run,
Whose brinie springs and streames could not be done.
Thy friends admir'd at thy diseases fowle,
As fluttring birds flie wondring bout the Owle:
Amidst thy griefes thy Louers thee forsake,
Fled from thy sight, as from an Aspe or Snake:
Thy foes reioyc'd at this confusion,
Vsing these termes with proud derision:
Is this that Mirror, reuerenced with dutie?
Surnam'd, The full perfection of BEAVTIE?
Then hiss'd with hate, and clapt their hands to see
Thy Glorie spurn'd by pale Perplexitie.
Thus Wo was drawne thy badge, and Want thy crest,
And hungrie Famine did thy skirts inuest:
(For shee's the hand-maid of Calamitie,
Attending still on common Miserie.)
Thy tender infants young did gaspe halfe-dead
In mothers armes, for indigence of bread:
Thy worthie Magistrates high-growne in age,
Expected viols of Ioues ardent rage,
To be powr'd foorth vpon them from aboue,
To notattending on his sacred loue.
Grizly Thanatos slinked through each street,
Waiting t'arrest each person he did meet;
Dragging him headlong to his centred caue,
Out of whose mouth no man himselfe can saue:
In harsh discordant sound each banefull Bell,
Rung foorth a Requiem with his dolefull knell:
No Prospect opposite to thy blear'd eyes,
But horrors, howlings, mournings, weepings, cries.
These are externall Plagues to secret sin,
And most transparant to entrap thee in;
O these will driue each heart to hideous grones,
Though most inflexible, as flintie stones.
The constellation of the twinkling starres,
Nor the foure Humors with discordant iarres;
The reuolution of Comets bright,
Nor corrupt Meteors blasting in the night;
Nor yet the welking of a Pleni-lune,
From whence, some do the cause of death assume:
Nor distillations exhal'd by the Sunne,
Falling in mists, when Vesper hath begunne
To draw his sable Curtaines ore the skie,
Could be th'Efficient of this Miserie.
No secundarie Cause, nor all of these,
Discuss'd at large in Ephymerides:
These are but Meanes, manag'd by heau'ns great King,
Though without meanes he comprehends each thing:
Alas, the venime of thy soules offence,
Poyson'd thy flesh with viprous Pestilence.
Phisitians Skill, nor Galens learned Art,
To whom the Heau'ns deepe Secrecies impart,
Could rightly censure, or discerne with eye,
The nature of this venimous Qualitie.
Strange are thy plagues, far stranger are thy crimes,
Most strangely nourished in these moderne Times.
Therefore the thought of this deuouring Smart,
With feare may penetrate each Christians heart:
Deepe sad Remorse may aggrauate each one,
To waile his sins with sad Contrition;
T'admire this Plague with lamention,
Lament in faith with admiration;
Deeming his age the length of Natures span,
A Monarch now, to morrow not a Man.
Thou that didst flie from Heau'ns consuming spoile,
To stand secure within the countries soile,
Know, that this Plague deuour'd from East to West,
God striketh where, and when he seemeth best.
The thirstie Sword doth watch without the gate,
Within the wals fierce Peftilence laies waite,
And boundlesse Famine which tormenteth all;
No path lies straight to shun their deadly thrall.
Thy firme-built walles, thy viands, house and ground,
Wherein thou wertst inuelloped around;
Thy purged Aires, and pleasant Pallaces,
Could not protect thee from this darke Distresse.
If thou shouldst run vp to the mountaines steepe,
Downe to the wildernesse and deserts deepe,
Resoluing there to dwell secure and free;
He can pursue thee there with Miserie:
His Messengers more volatile then Thought,
Fore thou canst thinke, such Accidents are wrought:
In Sions Songs then Dauid singeth well:
Heau'n can ore-take me if I runne to hell.
When thou resolud'st by flight to scape his hand,
Thy life and state in deepest dangers stand.
Like the Viator trauelling by the way,
Who meetes a Beare out-ranging for her prey,
Through vrgent passions shifteth from her clawes:
Then straight a Lion comes with wide-stretch'd iawes,
To lacerate his flesh, imbrude with gore,
Which strikes a deeper terror then before.
Yet by good hap pleuents the Lions rage;
And then with ioy holds on his pilgrimage:
But drawing neare to his abiding place,
(Fore-deeming not the Fates pursude in chace)
When least he thought of such a timelesse smart,
A Serpents sting doth wound him to the hart.
So when thou thinkst to sleepe in safest rest,
Then art thou by Gods iudgements most supprest:
His sword can wound both woman, child, and man,
From North to South, from Bersheba to Dan;
T'is like a Shadow which a man eschues,
Swifter he runs, the faster it pursues.
Thou great Soldado, earths Magnifico,
That conquers ioy by Lazarello's wo,
Heaping vp gold by each deceiptfull way,
Resoluing still that thou shalt liue for ay;
At first, thou sprangst from a small wombe of Sin,
At last, a litle graue shall close thee in:
Thou griping foole, the Pestilence this night,
Can wound thy corps, and burne thy hearts delight.
When king Lisymachus, through Fortunes hate,
By thirst proiected to the Scythians state,
And captiuated with his kingdomes all;
O heau'ns (quoth he) how dreadfull is my fall,
To yeeld great Prouinces and regall seate,
For liquide drops to quench my thirstie heate.
So when thou rifest from eternall sleepe,
And viewes Heau'ns glorie from the cole-blacke Deep:
Then wilt thou crie: O wretched creature I,
To lose such ioyes for carnall Vanitie;
For momentanie Pleasures which decay,
To misse heau'ns Grace, so permanent for ay!
Then looke to Heau'n, whilst thou on Earth dost dwel,
And not (with Diues) when thou liest in Hell.
Too late, alas, to wish heau'ns glorious Light,
When thou art wrapt in blacke eternall Night;
When Time turnes off his partie-coloured cote,
Thy soule in hell must howle a mournfull note.
Thou Vsurer, which Penurie dost racke,
And surfets in thy needfull neighbours lacke;
Thy Debters watch with care, while thou dost sleepe;
Thy State sings Requiem, while their Senses weepe:
In nightly lucubrations spend their houres
To puffe thy Spunge, which all the drops deuoures,
Distilling from their browes with burd'nous griefe;
Not able scarce to minister reliefe
Vnto their children deare and familie:
Because thou suckest (with the sluggish Bee)
That Mel, which they in harbring hiues wold keepe;
Clothing thy back, with wooll from their poore sheep.
What's this, but euen to kill and trucidate?
And all man-slaughtrers, God and Angels hate.
Thy state is match'd with Lillies in the field,
Which flourish now, and straight to withring yeeld:
Though thou in terrene Shadowes didst excell,
Yet shall not Gold redeeme thy soule from hell.
Then let this Sentence in thy sense remaine,
The sweetest Pleasures tast the sowrest Paine:
Quod (que) tibi nolles, aliis fecisse caueto:
Quod (que) tibi velles, aliis praestare studeto.
Thou rauening Vultur, gormandizing Kite,
Thou greedie Wolfe, which builds thy chiefe Delight
On drosse, and drinkes the bloud of Periurie,
Feeding vpon the flesh of Crueltie:
Whose deep-delv'd throat of Gain deuours more food
Then do the Amazons or Styrian brood.
Thy dropsie-Conscience sweld with moist Desire,
The more it drinkes, the more doth still require:
Hunger torments thee midst aboundant store,
Thou staru'st in Wealth, in Riches still art poore:
Like Tantalus which in the Stygian lies,
And sinkes in water, yet for moisture dies:
Like drudging Indians, which dig with paine
The golden Mines, yet others reape the gaine:
Or Pharaohs Kine, who gormandiz'd vp cleane
The fat-fed Beasts, yet still themselues were leane.
The Day thou spendest in turmoiling paine,
Selling thy soule for temporarie gaine;
In deepe of Night, thy mind extrauagates,
And wanders through the perillous gulfes and streits
Of Ne're-enough; when good men take their rest,
Thy restlesse Thoughts are tost, with cares possest:
Still pining Pietie, so leane in thee,
As is the big-bon'd bare Anatomie.
Thou plantest thornes in thy soules barren field,
Which nought but griefes and molestations yeeld;
Whereby not onely Equitie is choked,
And Vertue extirpated and reuoked;
But also stinging pricks spring sharpe and small,
That thou thy selfe art wounded therewithall:
Yet thou perceiu'st not, All goes well with thee,
So thou canst please thy hearts Rapacitie,
Which is insatiat as Fire and Flood,
The last drinkes Raine, the first deuours the Wood:
Or big-bon'd Behemoth with vigour fraught,
Who thought t'exhale deepe Iordan at a draught.
Thus dost thou sing amidst thy weeping woes,
As moiles who feed with burdens and with blowes:
What else remaines, thy senses neuer see,
(Profoundly cast into a Lethargie
Of deepe-Desire) till Death appeares in sight,
Rowzing from sleepe thy solide-slumbring sprite.
O then how fearefull will it seeme to thee,
To be secluded from earths Vanitie!
Thy death will be farre terribler then hell,
Because in life, true Life thou didst dispell:
Most griping griefes and dolors shalt thou find,
To lose Earths Idol, which thou leau'ft behind.
And when the Sun-set of thy youth drawes neare,
And occidentall Age begins t'appeare,
Those ill-got goods, which Auarice did intend
To be preseru'd, lewd Luxurie shall spend;
That wealth whereon thy mouth did neuer tast,
Vnthriftie Ganeo shall consume and wast.
Thus doth thy sin incurre a double sin,
Wherto thy soule (fore heau'ns great Bar brought in)
Shall answer as a thirstie Murtherer,
A swallowing Gulfe, a deepe Extortioner.
Not all that wealth which thou hast falsly won,
Can baile thy soule from fierie Phlegeton;
But will condemne thee in that dreadfull Day,
And glutinate thy Soule with Hell for ay.
O damned wretch, then fearefull is thy state:
These words pronounc'd, Repentance haps too late:
Abi, thou cursed to eternall fire,
Imbrace the flames of due-deserued hire.
Then know: though ne're so sweet Earths Syrens sing,
An vpright Conscience is a sacred Thing.
As wormes cannot corrode the Laryx tree,
Which neuer rots, nor scarce can burned be;
So neither Hell nor Horror, Worme nor Sting,
Can fret thy Conscience guarded strong within.
Thou that in Sicknesse wilt thy sins deplore,
That neuer did imbrace good Thought before,
Orat the obiect of a blazing Starre,
Fore-dooming, that some Iudgement is not farre,
Wilt then to mournfull deprecations rise;
But being banish'd from thy restlesse eyes,
And nine dayes past, thou hast recourse amaine,
With dogs and swine, vnto thy filth againe.
But if thou wilt redeeme thy soule from hell,
Weepe for thy sins, and mourne whilst thou art well:
When Death hath stung, there is no time to pray,
But line in Death, or die in Life for ay.
Thou that surmounts in pompous dignitie,
In Pleasure, Beautie, Wealth, and Brauerie;
In Luxurie thy precious Time dost spend;
Remember, that these Shadowes must haue end.
And that, from whence thou reapedst chiefe delight,
With loathsomnesse shall worke thee worst despite.
Like to Tarpeia's bracelets bright of gold,
For whom, with Guile the Romaines castell sold
Vnto the Sabines, won by trecherous Fate:
But yet these bracelets brought her generall hate,
Wherewith at last her selfe was prest to death,
And quite bereft of vitall sense and breath.
So Pleasures presse thee downe to gauling Griefe,
Or glance away, and leaue thee sans reliefe;
Like ranging Hawkes that soare in loftie skie,
With swift-wing'd flight from Lure of Falkners hie.
Demosthenes that famous Grecian,
Fau'ring faire Lais, Corinths Curtisan;
Most vehemently desir'd (by Fanciefed)
To haue accesse vnto her brothell bed:
Whom she desir'd three hundred crownes to send,
If lustfull Will, her wish would apprehend:
High heau'ns forbid (quoth he) that hote Desire,
Should heape such flames to Pryaps burning fire:
Though Lust allures, yet doth true Vertue hate,
To buy Repentance at so deare a rate.
This heathen Mole, had Reasons eyes to see,
That Paine attends on Pleasures surquedrie.
The buzzing Bee that sings in Autumnes field,
Doth from her labour, waxe and honie yeeld,
Which to mans senses, many comforts bring;
Yet in her taile there lutkes an angrie sting.
So Pleasure hath her hony of Desire,
Inflaming waxe dissolu'd in Follies fire:
But yet behind a dreadfull sting remaines,
Which wounds the heart, enwrapt with Fancies pains:
Her meager ioynts are tentred on deepe Cares,
Her vigor rack'd on imbecile Despaires:
Times reuolution frets her pleasing prancks,
As waters wash and weare away their bancks.
And as the dew from heau'n to earth assign'd,
By heate exhal'd, or scattered with the wind:
Or christall bubbles which on riuers play,
With agitation vanish quite away:
Or Characters deciphered foorth on sand,
Which by Eluuion perisheth out of hand;
So Earths mask'd Ioyes but for a moment last,
And soone extinct by Times oft-changing blast.
Peruse the Songs of sweet-toung'd Salomon,
Israels great King, faire Iuda's Paragon,
Sions Melodes, the sourse of Sapience,
Bedewd with drops of sacred influence;
For whom the Sabian Queene did iourney farre,
To view the splendor of so bright a Starre:
When he had heaped millions vp of gold,
Erected buildings glorious to behold;
And planted trees, fed with sweet fluent Springs,
And treasures won by captiuated Kings;
And singers with harmonious melodie,
Concording in Amphyons simphonie;
And all delights which Reason could deuise,
Were set as Obiects to his restlesse eyes:
O vaine (quoth he) is all the Earths delight,
But pictur'd Glosses, and disturbe the Sprite:
I now discerne by Faiths celestiall eye,
Pleasure's but vaine, most vaine, and Vanitie:
For with Times-turne their semblant Beautie's gone,
Whirl'd round with Change, as Sysiphus rolling stone.
Thus mans Delights, and earths Felicities,
Are but euen pleasant-seeming Vanities.
In Turne of Time all Creatures shall decay,
(For Time it selfe in time must passe away)
The winged-people of the various Skie,
The scalie Troupe which in the Surges lie;
The heau'ns, the earth, and seas shall burne to nought:
(Not to that Chaos, whence they first were brought)
The Worlds great Synode formally combin'd,
With pure celestiall Fire must be refin'd.
Don Phoebus Steeds their glistering coach must stay,
The burnish'd Gates include heau'ns Bright from Day,
The Stars, and Phoebe's feuer-shaking Light,
Shall maske their Beauties from the dismall Night:
The Comets, Meteors, with each Hemi-sphaeare,
To worke strange Operations shall forbeare.
Old white-hair'd [...] with strikt compas'd pace,
Must cease to course his artificiall Race:
The Sea, the Floud, the Spring, and watrie Lake,
Must by Times turne their liquide Caues forsake,
Which from the Cesternes of the Center deepe,
Through Earths wide Nerues in curbed maner creepe.
The flourishing Ver, and fruitfull Autumnes grace,
The icie Vizard of breme Winters face;
The Yeare, the Month, the Houre, the Night, the Day,
Shall subiect stand to Heau'ns Catastrophé:
Heau'ns wondrous Works, which thus in strictnesse turne,
When Pan appeares, in sulphur'd flames must burne.
All Wights that wander through this Orbe below,
Must pay that summe which they to Nature ow:
All must dissolue, euen from the Cedar tall,
Vnto the Hysope, springing on the wall,
When heau'ns loud Trump shal sound Earths sumning note,
And Time turnes off his rain-bow coloured cote.
But Ates brood, true Modell of the Maker,
That Angel-like of ioyes are made partaker;
Indude with Reason, Dangers to eschue,
Iudicially Times Accidents to view:
Casting an eye to things past and forgone,
To suprauise th'Euents ensuing on;
By retrogredience to Times heighth and fall,
In their progredience can discerne them all:
These that in portraiture all Shapes excell,
Must mount to heau'n, or flutter downe to hell.
Therefore let Reason feruently apply
His soule to liue, as still prepar'd to die;
In all essayes his heart vprightly bend,
As one that swiftly marcheth to his end:
Though he on Earth all worldly Pleasures haue,
Yet let him deeme one foot still in the graue.
The valiantsouldier marching longst the plaine,
Couragiously, to his immortall gaine,
Assaults his foes, and neare to them doth come,
Although most neare ensues his banefull doome;
Swifter he marcheth them with blowes to spend,
The swifter still approcheth to his end:
Desire of Fame kindles an ardent rage,
While leane-fac'd Death attends him as a Page;
Yet arm'd in heart, of furniture well sped,
Resolues to die in Honors valorous bed.
This world's a warfare, thou a souldier,
Wherein thou striu'st to stand Deaths conquerer,
Contending with hels Dragons damned hoast,
From woes to ioyes, from ioyes to woes ytost.
Without, the World alluresthee with Delight;
Within, foule Sin thy intellectuall sprite
Suggests; and opposite to thy darke Eye,
(T'entangle thee) slie Sathans engines lye:
Behind, a strict-bound Conscience clogs thy heele;
On thy right hand, mounts Fortunes loftie wheele;
And on the left, Aduersitie doth waite,
To feed thy Thoughts with Cares penurious baite:
Vnder thy feete, the Graue doth gape each houre,
With wide-stretch'd mouth to swallow and deuoure;
And ore thy head, Heau'ns heauie ludgements lie,
Prepared still to be powr'd foorth on thee.
Then not vnaptly graue learn'd Writers call
Thee, [...] or Small world of thrall.
Thy state of life may be compared thus;
Vnto the Mariner, in stormes dangerous:
(When blustring Aeolus opes his vented Caues,
And Neptunes rorall beard's bedasht with waues:)
He viewes the Heau'ns ore-vail'd with pitchie cloudes,
Huge tempests rise, each beast in shelter shroudes;
And foaming billowes beating gainst his Barke,
Then waites each houre, to diue in Deluge darke.
But when Dan Titan, with bright golden ray
Doth guil'd the pale-greene Pallace of the sea,
And with his purging Fire refines the skie,
He skips with ioy for his deliuerie.
So in this Orbe thou sail'st through seas of Woes,
Againe, with pride scornes Fortunes ouerthrowes:
Oft Fortune stormes, and her cleare Sun-shine failes,
Then Ioy retires with wofull-battred sailes.
Thus art thou subiect to Times turne, and Fate,
To be transform'd in Person, Life, or State:
For Time can turne to set the World on flote,
And straight can vrge him sing poore Niobs note.
If th' Embryo foreknew these woes, intomb'd
Within the wals of his deare Mothers wombe;
If he could see, before he sees heau'ns Light,
Earths Languishments, as Objects to his sight;
Would ne're contend to ope the Matrice wide,
By Generation naturally to glide
From tranquile Calme, to surging seas of Cares;
From silent Mansion, to a masse of Snares:
But rather wish in darke Obliuion cast
Without a Being, then on Earth be plac'd,
To gaze vpon the Suns bright Orient,
His Beames, Meridian course, and Occident;
The worlds delights would hold in spitefull scorne,
Intirely wishing he should ne're be borne.
This was obserued by the Drausians,
And as an Axiome high decretall stands:
That when a Babe from fruitfull wombe did rise,
Would mourne, weepe and lament in wondrous wise:
For that they knew, he was brought foorth to stand
In this fraile Orbe, as on the shiuering sand;
Readie to sinke into the depth of Feares,
Enuiron'd round with intricate Despaires.
But when one died, then gladly they reioyce,
With rauishing Musicks-simphonizing voice:
In this respect, they held him then set free,
From out the vale of cankred Miserie.
Thus Man by Nature is conceiu'd in wo,
From generatiue Seed continues so;
Still turn'd about with Times soft motion,
Disturbed-wise, as Sysiphus rolles his stone;
Or boyling Eurypus, which hurles along
With neuer-ceassing Agitation:
Fast marching forward like a Souldier braue,
Yet step by step descends fast to his graue,
Till the last trauell of his mother Earth,
Shall purge him with regeneratiue Birth.
But in earths warre, prepare heau'ns furniture,
That in thy death, of life thou maist be sure.
As Nauigators first forgo the sight
Of friends, and next, of cities faire and bright.
And finally, lanch out from banke and shore,
With resolution ne're to see them more.
So Man's depriued first of Infancie,
Next, of his Youth and strong Virilitie:
In fine, out-worne with his vnwealdie Age,
Loseth the sight of this Orbes spacious stage:
When hoarie Eld his stooping backe doth bend,
With concau'd eyes viewes then his rest and end.
Thus (pedetentim) Man exhales his breath,
If not preuented by immediate Death:
Euen as the Dials shade, depos'd from Rest,
In one dayes space doth course from East to West;
By circumuersion slily passeth by
Gradatim wise, yet not discern'd with Eye.
So Man craules on twixt earth and heau'ns bright raies,
Towards the west and welking of his daies:
Yet knowes not when grim Death shall stop the race
Of his lifes houres, mouing with gentle pace;
As nothing is more sure then losse of Breath,
So nought's vnsurer then the kinds of Death.
Aeterna Lex hath sacredly described,
(From whence th'euent of Life and Death's deriued)
A generall vniformall path from Wombe,
But various by-waies to the graue and tombe.
As diuers ships lanch from one port and deepe,
Yet sundrie waies vpon the Surges sweepe.
Some bound for East to frost-bit Scythia,
Others for West to faire America,
Some subiect faile to Austers briefe controules,
Others range through breeme Boreas frozen poles:
So all atchieuc one entrance from their birth,
But various passage to their grandam Earth.
How many plunge to tristall timelesse fall,
(As may appeare by proofes Authenticall)
By Murther, Shipwracke, Beasts, Eluuion,
By Fire, by Sword, by Wars confusion:
By Famine, Pestilence, (Earths Miserie)
By wondrous Accidents throwne downe from hie;
By Thundring, Lightning, Tempests that arise,
By desperate Sprites and damned Fallacies;
By Ioy, by Penurie, by Wealth, by Wo,
Some apprehend vnnaturall ouerthrow:
By Nonnage, Youth, Old-age, some strangely hie
To the darke Mansion of Obscuritie.
Young Drusus Pompey, Claudius lineall heire,
Amidst his sport was choaked with a Peare:
Eurypides was torne with dogs alone,
Anacreon stifled with a Raisins stone:
And Catulus pursuing timelesse death,
With stinking smoke did suffocate his breath.
When Marius souldiers swiftly did pursue,
Imbrac'd this death, a better to eschue.
Valerius, Carus, Emp'rors great through might,
Perished by thunder and celestiall Light:
Plinie was burnt by wondrous fires, that blaz'd
From mount Vesuvius, whereon still he gaz'd,
To comprehend the nature of that light,
Wherewith his dayes were consumated quite:
And hundreds mo, which might in tragicke verse
Be instanced, too tedious to rehearse.
Thus various stands Times imminent turne of Men,
They know to die, yet know not where, nor when.
The heau'ns bright Eye knowes whē t'include his raies,
But Man knowes not the Vesper of his daies:
So whether thou incline to Good or Ill,
Or frame thy heart to Natures wilfull Will;
Or plant such trees, which bring foorth bitter fruit
In thy Soules soyle, following with hote pursuit
Earths soure-sweet Pleasures, various in their tasts;
Yet still thy Lampe combusts, thy lifes Oyle wasts:
Wheeling about with blasts of whirle-wind Time,
To Deaths darke den of dust and putride slime.
Admit, thou reapst Youths flourishing verdant flours,
And ouer-runne the glasse of Nestors houres:
Yet at the last, Lifes roote will withered be,
And stocke traduc'd to grosse Morositie:
The Sap once dried, Life instantly is gone,
Euen as a Dreame, or Apparition.
And as greene fruites by ripenesse fall from tree,
Or sparkes, which of themselues extinguish'd be;
So Nature must thy fruitlesse branches send
To the succincting Period of their end.
Then let this Dish be seru'd last at thy Feast:
Memento mori, VIR incertus est.
He that his Soule to sinfulnesse doth bend,
Let him recount the Sorrowes of his End;
Whē heau'ns shril Trump shal rowze him frō his sleep,
And Goates sequestred from the harmlesse Sheepe:
Before the generall ludge shall he be brought.
To plead Peccaui for each triuiall Thought:
Like as his life, shall be his Death and end,
VVhat Death abandons, Iudgements apprehend:
VVhat Life and Death in Good or Ill defrayes,
The Iudge in iudgement to his Soule repayes.
Heau'ns work-men then their wages shall be paid,
VVhen slouthfull slugs in Dungèon shall be laid;
VVhere Fire shall burne, yet not consume them quite,
Nor to their comfort yeeld them any Light,
There shall they die in life, and liue to die,
Such Horrors waité on hels Eternitie.
O London, meekely prostrate on thy knee,
Fore heau'ns great King with pure Sinceritie;
Reuolue his praise, (Creator of that Day,
VVherein the Organs of thy Senses play)
VVho hath preseru'd thee from Sedition,
From thirstie Sword, and staru'd Occision:
Better it is a thousand times for Sin,
To fall into the hands of God then men:
For brunt of fierie Wars are mercilesse;
But God in mercie will thy woes redresse:
This caus'd the princely Prophet wars refuse,
By inspiration Pestilence did chuse.
Thou that art poisoned with this fierce disease,
And fierie torments furiously increase;
If all externall Remedies were gone,
Haue thou recourse to heau'ns Phisition:
Perfume the inward roomes of thy Desites,
With sauours sweet, and holy-heated Fires:
Moisten thy couch with reares for thy offence,
To quench the flames of burning Pestilence:
Sing sadly foorth to Heau'n this sacred Dittie,
Thus stirre Iehoua to soules-sauing pitie:
If thou shouldst search the poysoned heart of man,
If thou in ludgement shouldst his indgements scan:
If thou shouldst view how vile his Nature is,
If thou shouldst notice take what's done amisse:
Then would his name be written in the aire,
Then would Obliuion wrap him in Despaire;
Then would he ne're atchieue Heau'ns crowning Fame,
Then would in hell be charactred his shame.
O mightie Ioue, omnipotent in Might,
O, I Earths-worme craule fore thy gracious sight:
O God, ô King of kings maiesticall;
O who can stand, when thou commandst to fall.
Thy Grace shines perfect indiniduall,
Thy glorious Power extends it selfe to all:
Thy Mercies passe the numbers of the sand,
Thy Fountaines flow, thy Wel-springs neuer stand.
Turne downe thine Eye, behold my mournfull griefe,
Turne these my christall teares to Pearles of life:
Turne backe thy face from my corruptions,
Turne these corrections to Instructions.
My Soule surmounts Aurora's dew-moist Larke,
My Sense is kindled with a sacred Sparke,
My Heart is rapt aboue the third Degree,
My Sprite with loftie euolence flies to thee.
Thou art that Balne, wherewith my soule is cured,
Thou art that Law, whereto my heart's adiured,
Thou art that Mount, whereon my sprite must rest,
Thou art that House, wherein my Sense lines blest.
Then will thy soules Phisitian come to thee,
Ministring Mercie to thy miserie,
And cheare thy Senses with supernall Food,
Which shall redound to thy immortall good;
Thy heart will then desire (amongst the blest)
To be dissolued, and to sleepe in rest:
And as the Sunne's most swift at his descending,
So shalt thou be most blessed at thy ending.
London, with teares thy grieuous sins lament,
Thy flintic heart with humblenesse relent.
With fastings, mournings, greet him by the way,
Preuent his plagues with spacious Niniue;
And purge the inward Man of foule Offence,
That God may purge thee of this Pestilence:
Imbrace his Loue as sweet Preferuatiue,
If in heau'ns Eden thou dost meane to thriue.
Discute that damn'd-aspiring Enemie,
That puft-sterne-dropsie-swelling surquedrie
Of Selfe-conceit, which suffocates thy Soule,
And in thy Heart doth Puritie controule:
Lest thy Selfe-ruine so be brought to passe,
As to the Basiliske, which in a glasse
Beholds his beautie long, vntill at length
He be depriued of his vitall strength;
And whiles the glasse his beautie foorth doth send,
His owne reflecting-poison workes his end.
Or lest thy Springs be turn'd to Gulfes of blood.
And Beautie drown'd in faire Narcissus flood.
To muse on Heau'n thy Senses eleuate,
To walke vpright, thy Spirit animate.
Let not heau'ns Light obscure thy dazeled eye,
And be the Deaths-man to Virilitie;
Let not th' Ambassage of the glorious Lord,
And powerfull Essence of his sacred VVord,
(Lifes pure Elixer, Sun-shine of thy Day,
VVhich can with Ioy, Hearts corasiues allay)
Harden thy heart, and eke thy soule compell,
To tread the broad-beat-path that leades to hell:
As scorching Titan with his ardent ray,
Dissolues the waxe, and obdurates the clay,
So doth Heau'ns voice the humane heart relent,
Or workes it harder then the sparkling Flint.
Approou'd by Pharaoh, who would neuer grant
(His heart being clos'd in tombes of Adamant)
A free dismisment to poore Israel,
Bur did the Legate of heau'ns Lord dispell;
And gainst his Prophet did peruersly stand,
Till Ione sent foorth strange plagues vpon his land.
So hath thy Toad-swel'd proud rebellious hart,
Increas'd the rigor of thy generall smart;
Which at thy gates hath forc'd Intrusion,
To thy Conuersion, or Confusion.
Therefore in Ioue gush out pure streames of teares,
Enuiron round thy heart with sacred Feares;
And to renounce thy crimes with Zeale intend,
Lest Heau'n reserue thee to a fearefull end.
Shake hands with Sin, and bid him now, Farewell,
Prepare thy Soule with Godlinesse to dwell;
Redeeme that Time which thou haft lewdly spent;
In this Times-turne, with Faith be penitent:
For Heau'n hath sent thee to thy soules desire,
More blessings then earths Nature could require;
So many Graces to thy hearts Content,
Which to the World doth argue wonderment.
But sith from him thou turnedst backe thy face,
He turn'd these Mercies to thy deepe disgrace;
And tedious Taxes fastned on thy head,
In that thy Pride was not abandoned:
But still relapse from Grace, and fall from Truth;
The Nerues of Age, the Complements of Youth.
You immane Atheists who in darknesse dwell,
To horride Diuels the damned Centinell:
Affoording Nature that sole high renowne,
Which natures Author weareth as a crowne:
Old grandam Earth doth loath your noysome breath,
That die in life, and liue, to liue in death:
Th'insatiat Gulfe prognosticates your merits,
It grieues the Aire to feed your vitall spirits.
Can new-borne Sucklings frame their steps to go?
Can Youth, graue Eld Experiences show?
Can the Puple, his learned Tutor teach?
Can the damn'd Reprobate heau'ns Towers reach?
Can the Pallace direct the Framers hand,
To build so firme, that it for ay might stand?
Or can base Nature, cauteriz'd with shame,
Abstract one Iod from Ioues great glorious name?
Can abiect Dust (by heau'ns predestinate,
Though collocated in Angellike state)
Assume or derogate that Worke diuine,
Which can to nought but filthinesse incline?
With terror muse, with trembling cogitate;
To higher Thoughts your soules exasperate.
Heau'n is the Iusticer of Natures hart,
Nature's the workmanship of heau'ns great Art,
Art is the roote of humane natures Skill,
Skill letteth loose the reines of Natures Will,
Will workes th'Effects of Natures owne decay,
Decay must Nature, God perfists for ay.
How could her power confirme Times Accident,
Turning sad woes with ioyes circumferent?
How could th'Effect without th'Efficient,
Redound these glorious graces imminent,
To Albions comfort, by Iehoua wrought,
When Hope lay frustrate of aspiring thought?
Then, when the Zodiacke of Earths Sun was ended,
And our Horizon on the Fates attended,
Who rob'd Apollo of that fairest Faire,
Whose bright Meridian guilded Albions Aire:
Yet of aires benefite it selfe depriued,
From frozen Pole a brighter Sun reuiued;
It led to th' Occident of fatall Rest,
A clearer Orient started out from West.
Againe, to mixe the poyson of Annoy,
With her delightsome cordials of Ioy;
Amidst her chearefull wines to mingle in
The bitter Potion of the dregs of Sin.
Now search your hearts, in heart imagine now,
Hels deepe damnation branded on your brow.
O gaze to heau'n, grouel not on the ground,
Earth you corrupts, in Heau'n all ioyes are found:
Heau'n is the hauen of true perfect rest,
Heau'n is that place assigned to the blest,
Heau'n tendreth all, that do heau'ns Truth auerre,
Heau'n trophees yeelds to Natures Conquerer.
Therefore awake from th'Ecstasin of Shame,
By earthly Conquest, purchase heau'nly Fame:
Out of your hearts Earths drugs euacuate,
To heau'ns great All,
Qui Dro re­pugnant.
all praises arrogate:
Accurst to Hell such as [...],
Do calcitrate against the gates of Heau'n.
Now sith, ô Albion, Ione hath full decreed,
To send thee succour at thy extreme need,
Shrowding thee vnder his Al-couering wing,
And still protecting thee from Sorrowes sting;
Be gratefull therefore to his Soueraigne Might,
Who alwaies held thee gracious in his sight.
In thee no rumors runne of ciuill warres,
Nor of Sedition and tumultuous iarres;
But all with joynt applause do sing of Peace,
Of plenteous Autumnes, and a sweet Increase:
(O sacred Peace, by thee are onely found
Th'exceeding ioyes, that euery where abound!
Thankes, sacred Ione, that hath sent vs a King,
Who turnes our Winter, to a gladsome Spring.
Now Mars may drag his Ensignes in the dust,
His Adamantine coate may lye and rust:
Brabling Bellona now her broyles may stay,
And in her sacrificing Temple play,
Turning shrill Cries, to tunes of Musickes sound;
Harsh Discord now, with Concord sweet is drown'd.
For Phoebus Lute descants a new-found note,
Whereat Time skips, and turnes his Protean Cote.
Rippe vp the wombe now of the fertile field,
And prune thy trees whose graffes aboundance yeeld:
Now may great Pan trauerse the verdant woods,
To view the springing plants and sprouting buds.
Now may the shepheards when they chance to meete,
Trip ore Narcissus with their trampling feete:
Now may they dance their rusticke roundelaies,
Now philomele may warble on the spraies:
Now sweld-cheekt Thrōbus midst his vines may swim,
And fill Castalian bowles vp to the brim.
Now may thy full-fraught ships for Merchants gaine,
Deuide the furrowes of the watrie Plaine;
Neptune who knockes his curl'd-locks gainst the skie,
Hath how resign'd his full Supremacie.
Now may earths Load-starres (ore-vail'd by Night)
Without disturbance spread their sparkling Light:
For Phoebus Lute quauereth a heauenly note,
To make Time dance in his Camelion cote.
Honor late clos'd in tombes of Infamie,
Now burne pure lampes of Generositie:
Truth once ore-caft with cloudes of Errors strong,
Shall now appeare with grace in thickest throng.
Vertue reuiue, thou Mirror of thy Race,
Throwne by malignant Sprites to low Disgrace,
And prostitute to Fates exorbitant,
When Shrubs ore Cedars grew predominant.
Awake Renowne, great heire of Chiualrie,
Spread out thy Name, though in earths womb dost lie:
Hence old Obliuion, claspe thy black-leau'd Booke,
Vertue disdaines in thee t'affoord a looke:
Gainst hels despite, her beames on earth shall shine,
Though registred amongst the Saints diuine:
While solide dromedarie Sprites shall be
Blind Homagers to base-bred Progenie;
Who once seem'd bright, stamped with Honors mark,
Like glittring Glow-wormes glimpsing in the darke;
Fretting their gangren'd scars, shall lye halfe-drown'd,
With inundation of Disgraces found:
For Phoebus fingers strike a sacred note,
Constraining Time to turne his sable cote.
Thou worlds-Confusion, thou rust-fretting Spite,
Deflowring Vertue and her Virgins-right,
With stretched Stratagemes, and Forgeries,
As trecherous Centinels raise false descries:
To please thy selfe, Melpomens musicke sings,
By making Kings poore vassals, vassals kings.
Times past, thy crue and Machiauellian Race,
Constrain'd the Horse, to serue the seruile Asse;
Superficiall syllogismes propounding still,
Wrested Truths key to ope thy cankted Will.
Thy quelling hand suppressed huge-growne Okes,
T'abide the brunt of base-bred Pesants strokes,
Poysoning the fluent streames of Honors Spring,
With thy infectious venim'd aspish sting:
(If Richard had not bene by Enuie led,
Braue Bucchingham had neuer lost his head.)
Thou pale-sac'd Fate, thou Minister of harmes,
Inueigling Dian with suppos'd Alarmes:
Then, when the wide-mouth'd Beasts pursude in chase
The light-foot Roe, tripping with nimble pace,
T'escape the chaps of those Hart-senting hounds,
Stript through the Plaines of Dians sporting grounds:
But yet the yels of their foot-following cries,
Incens'd the Goddesse with a deepe surmise;
That, through her Walkes without respect he rones,
Spoiling her siluer Fountaines, Shades and groues.
Whereat she storming, snatcht her stiffe-steel'd bow,
With quiuer-bearing Might did wound this Roe:
O Dian faire, yet foule disastrous Lucke,
To foile faire-Play in foiling of this Bucke!
So soone as he receiu'd this lethall blow,
Heart-trembling Feare, and Sense-appalling Wo,
Rudely rusht through the Heard disturbed-wise,
With vlulations, shrikes, and Mandracke-cries:
Thus woodly ranging, these exclaims foorth powred:
The Beautie of our beauteous Breed's deflowred!
The Syluanes eyes distil'd pure christall Teares,
And Dians Nymphs rent their dissheauled haires:
The Cedar (mal-content) hung downe his head,
The dwarffie Shrub did quake astonished:
Th'aspiring hils sad mournfull murmures sended,
The dales cride (woes) before their woes were ended;
Their daughter Eccho with her tripled Tong,
Did Tel-tale-like reduplicate this wrong:
Through rocks and groues this tatling newes did sling,
Which caus'd the concau'd vastie anters ring.
Pan wakening with these vniuersall cries,
Began to start, presaging Tragedies;
And gazing mongst his flockes on champion ground,
Espide his Faire strucke downe with mortall wound.
Then bloud-congealing Feare enwrapt his hart,
Each actuall Sense forgat to act his part;
And Natures functions slackt their vsuall charge,
From whence lifes Organs force free passage large.
Thus ouer-quel'd with palsey-quinering Dread,
Pluckt vp the sluce and floud-gates of his head,
From whence gush'd foorth a Pleni-tide of teares,
Which trickling down, hurl'd through his snow-white hairs.
But vitall Motions being reduc'd againe,
Inioyn'd Hearts-bloud to course through euery veine;
Then Sighs and Words (confus'd) did issue foorth,
Like blustring stormes from cloud-dispelling North:
Ech word breath'd sighs, each sigh braith'd out a word,
Euen as the treasurie of his Thoughts was stor'd:
While blasting Feare, his branching Nerues did kill,
Quauered this Threnos on his rusticke Lill.
Thus he began: What Death-presaging Starre?
What monstrous Meteor, or sphaericall Iarre?
What blacke disastrous Planet blasts from skie
T'infect these woods? What enuious Destinie
Hath thus conspir'd my Paragon to slay,
My flockes chiefe Guide, Conductor of their way?
Light to mine eyes, Ease to my burdened hart,
Sweet Delian Musicke to asswage my smart;
Sap to the Plants, sweet lustre to each Flower,
Faire Flora's Ioy seated in fragrant bower:
Phoebe intrail'd him with a loue-sicke grace,
And with a smile Titan adorn'd his face.
Ver's sweet Blossome, Daphne's fairest Faire,
Queene Clores Pride, and Natures best-fram'd Heire;
Nay, Natures selfe, her selfe hath foil'd to frame him:
But Sighs haue drown'd my Tong, it cānot name him:
Silence seares vp my lips they must not open,
While raging Thoughts perforce my brains haue brokē
But oh, what foaming flouds beate gainst my brest?
How are the waters of deepe woes increas'd:
Now, now, per violence their streams burst out,
Though with a thousand floud-gates hem'd about.
I must speake I, though with Pythagoras Ring
My mouth were seal'd: Necessitie rules a King.
Mis-led Diana, mis-informed Queene,
What furious Nymph did animate thy teene?
What ouer-ruling Fate, ore-rul'd thy hand,
To strike the fairst that tript on scorching sand:
Ore-ruled Goddesse, yet ore-ruling All,
Ore-rul'd, t'approoue this ouer-ruling Thrall.
O would thy sinewes had beneloosened so,
As thy stiffe armes could not haue bent thy bow;
O that thine eyes had slackt their instant sight,
That to thy shaft gaue iust-directed Flight.
Accurst that Bird, who foorth her plumes did fling
Next to that Shaft, whose roote of whisking wing,
Sits quaffing Iuice, till Ioy with Sorrow singeth;
Eke rules the Earth, and earths Confusion bringeth;
Raising vp one, basely detecting other,
And sowing Variance twixt Man and his brother:
I say accurst, who beates her flaggering wing,
To make it sing and weepe, to weepe and sing.
O that thy nimble fingers wide had slipped,
Til he might through some vncouth paths haue skipped
From dint of Dart, remote a distant space
From plotting Foxe, Wolfe, and abiected Asse.
Wishes are wind: ay me, that Darling's slaine,
Whose crimson bloud thy christal brookes doth staine.
His waxen Shape so true proportioned.
Liues now to Ioue, to rurall Syluanes dead;
Who once was deem'd (before this tragicke part)
The pure subsisting Essence of thy heart.
The Satyres left their Cels t'affoord him dutie,
The Faunies leapt, as rauished with his beautie,
The forrest gods rude rusticke Carols chanted,
The ietting Birds on spraies and branches vanted:
Warbling his praise, this sweet-stretcht straine did sing:
This is the king of Heards, the heards great King.
Once thou didst grant him licence free to roue,
Through euery valley, mountaine, shade and groue;
As rapt in sprite to view so faire a Creature,
Of Lineaments diuine and famous Feature:
To Heau'n adiur'd, in Earth admir'd of all,
Adorn'd with Vertues Metaphysicall:
Vntill the Wolfe, slie Foxe, and Asse with charmes,
Rung in thine eares Enuies extent alarmes.
Oft haue I seene the Wolfe of lambes make prey,
The clamorous Hound hold the swift Hart at bey,
And piercing-sighted Eagle soare aboue,
To fixe his tallants on the mournfull Doue:
(Though these be Accidents assiduall,
Yet in their kind th'appeare tyrannicall:)
But neuer saw two Gemels wound each other,
Or symbolizing shapes deuoure their brother:
Yet (Dian) thou hast spoil'd thy selfe in spilling
This guiltlesse bloud, and kil'd thy selfe in killing:
For Nature in this morall Axiome showes,
Precedent Wrongs, hast on pursuing Woes.
Thou mightst haue aym'd thy deep Hart-wounding shaft
Iust at the Wolfe and Foxe, who slunke with craft
Through euery Plaine, to spoile the harmlesse flocks,
Tearing their lambes, who skipt on craggie rockes:
This done, came crooching with a courtly grace,
As masked Homagers with Ianus face:
Fierce Leopards in workes, yet Lambes in words,
Their Enterprises, enter-piercing swords;
Vulturs in thought, yet Doues in semblant graces,
Monsters within, without faire-painted Faces,
Honying their Tongs with Angels protestations,
Poyson'd their Hearts with diuels dissimulations;
Nay Sphinx nor Proteus (turn'd to colours strange,)
Could change in time, as they with Time wold change.
Thou mightst haue rouz'd the burden-bearing Asse,
Who striu'd t'immure him selfe midst fatning grasse,
Vntill with yeares the Lion's ouer-worne,
Then calcitrates him with insulting scorne:
Who neigh'd to moue a Smile, laden with pride,
Though loath'd of all thy virgin-Nymphs beside.
He seeking shelter in Minerua's Tower,
From distillation of each siluer shower;
Lay listning Ecchoes, that done, gins to snort,
Carying their tatlings to Diana's Court:
This seruile-solide-Lumpe plods backe againe,
To blab what Newes with Dian did remaine.
This fawning Drudge in ponderous gold did swim,
Like Marius moiles, who toyl'd, yet slicke and trim;
Supporting ay light Courtiers onerous ieasts,
As Natures bond-slaues, borne to beare like Beasts.
For Pallas spurning him from out her Hall,
Cride: Get thee hence, I know thee not, nor shall:
And Mars did scorne, that such a dul-pac'd Iade,
Should be officious to his warlike Trade:
Yet thou didst grant him an admitment free,
To be the Pandar to false Forgerie.
These bloud-sworne Beasts vnto their Dens scarce trudged;
But still with Enuie this Harts swiftnesse grudged:
(Consulting with grim
Obseru'd his footings, and rang'd tracks each one:
And then pursude with eager hunting close;
Yet smooth'd it vp, not deem'd to be of those
Who steeled their fierce fangs, and tooke their Stand,
With his hearts-bloud t'imbrue the Forrests sand:
But highly honoured him fore Dians face,
Yet in his absence drag'd him to Disgrace.
Faire-seeming Pictures dazeling thus her Eye,
Foule seemed Faire, Truth seemed Trecherie:
Thus Dian deckt with monstrous Semblancie,
Her selfe seem'd not her selfe, she was not she.
But the sole solace of my soule, is this,
Betwixt their Kinds t'oppose Antithesis:
Albeit, this Faire by Destinies was chac'd,
And in bright Splendor by foule Beasts disgrac'd:
Yet in his Occident, (with Light repleat)
Great Ioue reserues him for a daintie meat:
Whiles they in death shall as vile Carion lie,
Of Heau'n abiected, loath'd of earthly Eye.
A second Faire shall spring from out his bloud,
Whose branching hornes shall beautifie the wood;
Whom ile range in from Wolfes and Tygers iawes,
Each Nymph and Satyre lend him their applause:
Whiles their Of-spring slinke slily to their Den,
Agast, to looke on Satyres, Nymphs, or men.
Thus Pan ore-wearied with this tasking stile,
With whispring Silence breaths himselfe awhile,
And bids the Nymphs from neighbor-caues arise,
To solemnize the Heards-kings Exequies.
Then that perform'd, runs swiftly through the plaine,
To fetch his flockes vp to their folds againe.
But soft, swift Muse, too fast thou postest on,
Time bids, Range in this sterne Idilion:
Conclude with Time, whē Time cócludes with thee,
For Times and Motions must concluded be:
Musicke with Time affoords sweet harmonie,
And as vnited natiue Twinnes agree:
But this was Enuies harsh-discordant Song,
To make Time wash his cheekes and creepe along.
Enuie go hang, thy viperous word's no Law,
Thy Toad-like-swelling looke's not woorth a straw.
Thou canst not now Defame, Depose, Depriue;
Truth scales thy wals, thy kingdome cannot thriue:
She now dispels white vizards from thy face,
And eleuates her Throne by thy disgrace:
For Phoebus Lute descants a new-found note,
Whereat Time skips, and turnes his Protean cote.
Now may the flocks securely range at large;
For Ioue himselfe of them hath taken charge.
Now tender Lambes may skip from out their pens,
While Romish Tygers slinke into their dens;
Like wandring Spirits midst the drearie Night,
Whose Apparitions do abhorre the light;
Charming poore Fosters with their Magicke Spels,
Till the great-Hunt shal rowze them from their Cels:
For now Apollo takes his Lute in hand,
Time leapeth on with Ioy, and scornes to stand.
As Foxes now in anters they remaine,
Scraping each dustie concaue of their braine,
For putride Arguments, to hold dispute
Gainst Heau'n it selfe, yet still themselues confute.
As slipperie Eeles with sound of dreadfull thunder,
Scud from their chinkes, and separate asunder:
So of they creepe from out their slimie caues,
Plung'd in the mud of deepe-despairing waues;
Fluttring like Schrich-owles on the craggie rockes,
Yell foorth Effata's to their senslesse Blockes.
They lash foorth loathsome libels of Confesse,
With soules-seducing triuiall Treatises;
So farre vnfit to saue a Christian,
As is the Turkish truthlesse Alcoran.
The march as Maskers in disguised shapes,
Tossing their Beads with tricks, like mimicke Apes:
Or Cornish chaughs, that in their nests do chatter,
Neither to Reason, Sense, or any matter:
To Seigneur Crux such hote-breath'd sighs they send,
As make him frowne, and vow to be their end:
An Altar apt for such a Sacrifice,
For what they craue, his Worship ne're denies:
The place is Shame, through Malefaction,
And there with Shame they share Deuotion.
Now hath th'Italian Serpent cast her sting,
And wounded lies by IAMES, faire Albions King;
Whom, Heau'ns protect from fawning Gnato's crue,
That turne (with monstrous Time) to Protean hue;
Or as bright Comets, whose blaze lasteth pure
No longer, then their exhal'd Fires endure:
Or Hecticke fits, now hote, now cold within,
Now burnes the heart, now frigerates the skin.
Extirpate Traitors, ô heau'ns expell
The craftie Counsels of Achitophell,
The soothing Humor of each Midius braine,
That by blandiloquence seekes his state to staine:
The damn'd stratagemes of Romish Fauorites,
And all Spanized bloud-sworne Iesuites;
Who long expected that a day would come,
Wherin with bloud they might work Albions doome:
Couering their face with vailes of Loyaltie,
Their poysoned hearts consort with Villanie,
To trucidate and murther Prince and Peere,
Whose bloud, both God and man esteeme most deare.
These are Illusions sprung from Poperie,
These are the fruites of false Imagerie.
In Nomine Iesu, yet their facts must rise,
O sleight Preludium to their Tragedies:
Their actions are exhaust from Puritie,
Yet practise nought but diuelish Trecherie.
Are these Deuotions? nay, Delusions,
Detractions, and their owne Destructions.
Let no man dread Romes Hydra bearing sway,
For Albions Hercul's crops his heads away:
One Head entire doth on his shoulders stand,
Which will be broke by Iames owne royall hand.
For Phoebus hath deuis'd an heau'nly note,
To make Time laugh, and turne his Sphinx-like cote.
But harke, Muse, harke, me thinks some voice diuine,
Ecchoes the mountaines of the Muses nine:
Stay, genious Muse, thy ouer-tired teame,
Cease to discusse vpon so deepe a Theame:
Now take repose in Aganyppe's vale,
And marke the tenor of this sequele Tale.

A Panygericall Idilion pronounced to the Citie of London before the entrance of her long-expected Comfort.

NOw London rise from dreadfull Dungeon,
Of darke disastrous deepe Destruction;
Wherein thou didst imbrace foule hood-winkt Night,
Prodigious horror, indigence of light,
And Sense-appalling Feare, with short-drawne breath,
Fast grip'd betwixt the chaps of rauenous Death:
Gainst whom, Heaù'ns wódrous works opposed were,
Each Planet, and incomprehended Sphare,
The restlesse Poles, and high-remoted Starres,
Against thy Pride conspired direfull warres:
Apollo mask'd his face with beames of bloud,
While trembling Phoeb' exanimated stood:
With ioyntagree thus adunited all,
To captiuate thee with perfidious thrall.
Erect thy bruised stormie-battred head,
Basely deiected like the high-sprung Reed,
Or grassie plaines, where Ver bids flowers abound,
Whose stems are vrg'd to kisse the foule-fac'd ground:
When as the furious Fire with discontents,
(Included close midst liquid Elements,)
Alongst the sphaerie Frame doth range about,
With burning ire to find some passage out;
At last breakes through with roarings violent,
Like to a Lion in some dungeon pent;
And then dissolues that grosse-congealed matter,
To fierce tempestuous haile and flouds of water.
Then Aeolus ope's his vented anters deepe,
That curl'd-hair'd Boreas through the world may sweep
Whose steele-strong breath doth penetrate the rockes,
Disturbes Damaetas and confounds his flockes:
Affrighting Nature with celestiall Thunder,
And stoutly strikes the Cedars tops asunder.
Whereat huge Aetna quakes, proud billowes rise,
And Amphytrite's Towers confront the skies:
The sinewie Oake with feare fals flat to ground,
Earths Center trembleth at this terrible sound.
But when Latona's Heire transcends his Light,
From queene Aurora's christall Pallace bright,
Gazing about the World with chearefull Eye,
Intrailes the Earth with robes of Maiestie;
Intreates the vpright-towring Larke to sing,
The low-laid grasse to rise, and plants to spring:
Instructing Man by course from East to West,
To rise with Labour, and lie downe with Rest:
Then boasts queene Flora in her fragrant bed,
Who earst did droupe with tempests ruined.
So thou, sith Heau'n respects thy mournfull mone,
From the high Solium of Ioues sacred Throne;
Spreading his glorious beames of quickning Grace,
Vpon thy wofull storm-beat withered face:
Sucke vigor from his nourishing feruent raies,
He yeelds thee life, yeeld him immortall praise.
Sin as the Load-stone, drew this Plague vpon thee,
And sins expulsion, must expell it from thee;
Sin grounds the Cause, & Iudgment frames th'Effect,
T'asswage th'Efficient, Sin thou must reiect:
Hadst thou not sin'd, Heau'n had not cride, Repent;
Where raignes no sin, there needes no punishment.
Rig vp thy Barke split through with storms of woes,
Saile to the port where Pactolus ore-flowes;
Condenst from Tmolus mount in Lydia land,
Where golden grauell guilds the siluer sand:
Flourish in spite of interdicting Fate,
Reduce thine Honor to his auncient state.
Lachesis now (who earst so swiftly spun)
May sit and rest, her tedious taske is done:
For mightie Ioue (th'Olympian king) foreshowes
The calculation of thy by-past woes,
To lie inundate midst pure founts of Loue,
Distilling from th'Ambrosian Springs aboue.
As flame-hair'd Phoebus melteth by degrees,
Drop after drop the weeping Ysicles,
And so traduc'd to Dissolution,
Are by the thirstie Earth absorb'd each one:
So, as he manag'd Iudgement with Increase,
Doth mitigate it with a sweet Surcease.
Now bath amidst Macenas siluer streames,
To Europes eyes extend thy golden beames.
And as the Satyres skipping through each street
Of auncient Rome, with Orpheus musicke sweet,
Sounding Amphyons quickening simphonie,
Threatned the death of Marcus Antonie:
So let
The Geddesse of Mirth.
Euterpe on the aduerse part,
Plucke vp her sprite, and euer-chearefull hart,
T'infuse thy streets with heau'nly iocond mirth,
And sacred solace for thy prosperous Birth.
Thy Ephori put on their scarlet Die,
To intertaine his royall Maiestie;
Who long'd to view thy face, (from him exil'd)
Euen as a father doth his long-lost child.
Produce thine Ornaments and ensignes faire,
Let shril-toung'd Trumpets penetrate the aire;
Let bels concord in Musickes simphonie,
Let Anes dimme the Meteors of the skie:
Iouissance diuine reeccho in each place,
Each creature cry: God saue king IAMES his grace:
Eccho, the tatling Daughter of the hill,
Shall iterate that Speech thrice-doubled still;
For Phoebus tunes a sweet celestiall note,
Whereat Time skips with Ioy, in golden cote.
When worthie Pompey, Lord of Africa,
Was chosen Chiefe to scoure the surging sea
Of Pyrates, brauing with ore-swaying might;
So high his Fame soar'd in the Romaines sight,
That all applauded him with shoutes and cries;
So pierc't the thin vast aire beneath the skies,
That certaine fowles amaz'd fell flat to ground,
Hearing such clam'rous noise, and thundring sound.
So let the Steele of pure Affection,
Strike fire of Zeale and true Subiection
Vpon thy Vulgars hearts, inflam'd with loue
Of due Alleigiance, sparkling from aboue:
That so they may conforme their Loyaltie,
Consonant to Caesars Solidurij;
Who (when they were enrol'd in martiall pay,
If chanc'd by brunt of fight to lose the day)
For griefe would kill themselues with their own hands,
So neare succincted with Affections bands:
Then shall thy wals inclose him plausibly,
As to his Throne he entred peaceably.
Thy Muses flow with Archimedes Skill,
That they thy streets with Rarities may fill.
For when young Cato that braue Romaine Peere,
With his wel-manned ships approched neare
The Syracusan walles strong fortifide;
By Archimedes caution were descride:
They full resolu'd to raze them flat to ground,
By him such warlike Engines rare were found,
(Which from the Tower thereof his Art downe sent)
Who turn'd their strong-built Barkes circumferent
With bottomes vpward, drawne from out the fount,
And cast vpon the high confronting mount:
He fram'd a Doue of wood by Art so rate,
That for some space perpended midst the aire
Seeming aliue, and counterpois'd so right,
Was thought to flie, most strange to humane sight.
So shall thy Muses from sweet Sapience,
Infuse their Thoughts with powerfull Influence:
The learn'd Thalia that doth on Pernasse dwell,
Shall Nectar quaffe from Aganyppe's well,
That they with deepe Designes may moue delight,
Beyond the motions of sharpe Reasons sight:
From midst their Rarities shall Caliope sing:
Great King of kings, protect king IAMES our King.
Now genious Muse, drinke of Castalian Springs,
Then soare aloft with swift Pegasian wings,
And mounting Euolence to th'ingenious braine;
There bid thy turret-climing sprite remaine:
Suruiue thy Thoughts, ere all the Musick's done,
With Pallas daunce in this Idilion:
Let Phoebus rauishing Lute thy Musicke be,
Salute great Pan with this Panygerie.
Diuine Apollo, Harbinger to Ioue,
To Earth descend from mouing sphaeres aboue,
With thy bright Chariot, by proud Eôus led,
Where heau'nly Queenes are high enthronized;
That they as Guards may waite with rare delight,
On Albions Caesars royalized sprite.
Let faire
Sophia seate the chiefest part,
In the Bed-chamber of his peerelesse heart;
That by conuerse she may pure Motions lend,
From whence all Motions draw successefull end.
Let louely
Phronesis with cleare Diamonds dight,
Be euer resident fore his Princely sight;
Feeding with her bright Shine his piercing Eye,
To search the drifts of wresting Sophistrie:
So sincere Truth shall chieue the vpper hand,
Ore-topping Vice, while she amaz'd doth stand.
Melôs tune her siluer-sounding Song,
Within the groues of his minds Motion;
That Heau'ns Astraea, sacred queene of Grace,
Iust measures there may tread with loftie trace.
Soter, vnsheath thy neuer-danted sword,
Strike downe-right Blowes, as full-eyes can affoord,
With strict attendance on his right side stand,
Mercy on left, t'asswage thy rigorous hand,
And counterpoise thy scales with Paritie,
Reiecting squint-eyed Partialitie:
Then shall thy Deitie be ador'd of all,
Congratulated both of great and small.
As bright-eyed
Eôus Don Phoebus Page,
Attends his Maisters sweating Pilgrimage,
Sliding vpright with burning flames accrude,
To his Meridian climing altitude;
And then descends till his hote taske be done,
Towards the Wests extracted Horizon.
So let these glorious Empresses attend
Vpon his Acts, from Alpha to the end;
That by their Conduct he may view the way,
To dignifie his Throne, and Scepter sway:
Pursuing still his princely Thoughts with speed,
That their rich fruites th'Euent may alwaies feed.
As' Numa was suppos'd to spend each day
In deepe conuersing with Egeria;
By whose aduice he constituted Lawes,
Consorting to the Vulgar sorts applause:
So by sweet Conference with all of these,
Shall he prescribe his Lawes, Acts, and Decrees;
Which in their good Successe shall stand vpright,
Fore mightie Ioue, fore Heau'n and humane sight.
Then Albion thou, abundantly increase
In Wealth, Tranquilitie, and ioy full Peace:
For that's true Peace, which Ius to kingdomes brings,
Kings subiect to their Lawes, not Lawes to Kings.
Now Mercurie, surnam'd
Plume thy light wings, make hast, no time delay;
Be swifter then Palladius Persian,
That through the Romaine Confines quickly ran
To Theodosius, where he did remaine,
Shewing, The Romaines had the Persians slaine:
Desist not then (if thou wilt purchase name)
To thrust this Motto in the chaps of Fame:
Al-seeing Ioue faire Albions isle hath blest,
With a renowmed King, and tranguile Rest.
Whose Vertue glistering from his stately Throne,
Giues sight vnto his Substitutes each one:
Euen as the Sun with his transcendent Light,
Tiends all the twinkling Candles of the Night.
Faire Phoebe daunce on Ganges argent streames;
Dan Titan laugh with bright-reflecting Beames;
Protract thy course from burning Ida's hill,
Commaund thy burnisht coach to wander still
Vnder the starrie Round, and third Degree,
Till Earth be crown'd with Angels dignitie.
Great Court of Heau'n thy Synode counite.
T'adorne his heart with crownes of true Delight,
That neighbour-kings admiring at his state,
His Princely steps may striue to imitate;
And that by Soueraigne blisse his Raigne may be
A rare Memoriall to Eternitie.
O blisfull Concord bred in Heau'ns pure brest,
For Albions sacred and assured Rest,
By Ioue, who rules the restlesse ranging skie:
By thy Decree, that glorious power doth lie,
With sweet Accord to keepe the pugnant stars,
And each foule Planet from disastrous wars.
Celestiall Ens, that Earths Ens fram'd of nought,
And by Creation, Light from Darknesse brought:
Thou that refin'd those vitall Elements,
From the confused Chaos quintessence:
By whom we liue, respire, moue, stand, and be;
Compounded of indifferent Qualitie.
Thou that commandst Heau'ns Axletree to moue
Vpon the distant Poles, the Sphaeres aboue
To turne with measured Course, and neuer stay
From Agitation neither Night nor Day:
Yet in the midst, Earth hast thou fram'd so fast,
That shall perdure, till Heau'ns huge Frame doth wast.
Thou art that First, and last things dost pretend;
Yet sans Beginning, and without an End:
Thy glorious Power doth comprehend each one,
Yet comprehended canst thou be of none.
Thou didst prepare the mountaine Ararat,
(When the wide World in blind-fold Deluge sate)
To entertaine the waue-tost Arke with Rest,
From whence each Kind abundantly increast.
In thee, in thee such powerfull glorie bides;
From thee such Lenitie and Friendship slides,
As may commaund this Vniuerse to bend,
As mortall Ens can neuer comprehend.
By thy Decree the lustie Cedars spring,
The bloomie Ver abundant fruites doth bring:
Thou dost increase the grouth of Sommers seed,
For to supply the breeme-fac'd Winters need:
Thou dost inspire the hearts of peerelesse Peeres,
In ripening Youth to chuse their flourishing Feeres:
"And looke how fast to Death Man payes his due,
"So fast againe dost thou his Stocke renue.
As by this President Albion now may see,
Who doth inioy IAMES royall Maiestie:
To whom I wish long, long, and happie Raigne,
Wherein he may the Gospell pure maintaine;
Old Nestors yeares (ô Heau'ns) let him excell,
And be a Father graue in Israel.
Grant sacred Ioue his royall Stocke to stand,
His Branch to flourish in faire Albions Land,
So long as Titan treades Heau'ns siluer tracke,
To analize Times compleat Zodiacke:
Till Time himselfe leaue turning of his cote,
And Phoebus cease to strike Time rauishing note.
Thus each true English heart sincerely pray:
And he that seekes his Person to betray,
Fierce Proserpina with her Daughters three,
Shall dragge his soule to cole-blacke Tartarie;
To fearefull Hades, or the darkest Hell,
Where nought but Diuels and damned Spirits dwell:
Meane time my genious Muse this Note shall sing:
Heau'ns prosper IAMES, the Britons lawfull King.
Nuncibo intereà, & Pernassi in rupibus altis,
Donec Musa iterum in beat me exire, latebo.


Iacobo Regiaeterna Gloria.

In Winters wracke the torrents rage and flow,
And sheapheards forc'd to leaue their pleasant rockes;
Cold-wrinkled furrowes seated in his brow,
Out bids them driue their weather-beaten Flockes.
But mightie Pan commannds a Cedar spring,
Out of whose roote faire-flourishing Branches grow;
Rising in heighth, Heau'ns Quire about him sing,
Each loftie Oake doth pure Alleigeance show.
Graze now ye tender Lambes, skip and repast
In fruitfull Groues, vnder this Cedar shroud,
Esteeme not of fierce AEolus blustring blast,
Turne not from fields when mists bright Titan cloud.
Phaea, the wild Cremonian Sow,
Rauening abroad, and searching for her prey,
Nought can obtaine but dreadfull ouerthrow;
As Flocks suruine, she surfets in decay.
Great Cedar spread, in lasting glorie spring,
Leaues, Viburnes, Flowers, All shall sing thy praise,
Our [...] and Astraea's King,
Recrown'd be thou with neuer-fading Baies:
In Albions Groue, flourish thy royall Bloud,
As long as Riuers flow, and Cedars bud.

Astra Deo nil maius habent, nil Caesare terra: Sic Caesar terras, vt Deus astra, regat.

Anna valeat Regina.

Astraea peeping from the skie,
Nymphs and Satyres gaz'd to spie
Nature worke her owne Despaire,
And foile her selfe to frame that Faire.
Vp Flockes and dance, pipe rusticke Swaines,
All fragrant flowers adorne the plaines:
Loe, Astraea comes at hand,
(Euer Lucina by her stand:)
Astraea glideth from the aire
To guild the Groues; she fairest Faire
Reuiues the Plants, recures the Sprayes,
Eternall be her Crowne of Bayes.
Gaze may the Sun with splendant Bright,
In darke doth she surpasse his Light:
Now sweet Muses ye behold,
Astraea trip on earthly Mold.

Semper virescas.

Henricus Princeps vivat.

Ho, Syluanes, Nymphs, leape from your siluer lake,
Erect your viols fil'd with golden praise:
Now Satyres sing, your Cynicke Cels far sake:
Rodanus, thy madide beard from Riuers raise:
In sweet agree,
Come sing with me,
Vnto that Starre that deignes to glide these waies.
Sweet Flora now imbellish thy faire Bowers;
Paris, thou shepheards Ioy, Heau'ns musicke bring,
Reuolue thy Lils, tripping amongst these flowers,
Infuse rare Tunes, and rurall Paeans sing:
Note his bright Face,
Combin'd with Grace:
Eccho with Aues bid the mountaines ring.
Phoebus intraile him with thy golden ray,
So fragrant Clores, Sommers verdant Queene,
Vnto his Progresse, thy vert shades display,
Inuellop him around with Chaplets greene.
Vnto this Shrine,
All ioyes diuine;
To Heau'n a Sun, to earth a Load-starre seene.



Laeta sit ista Dies, totum (que) canenda per orbē,
Qua Princeps nobis Rex (que) IACOBVS erit.
Plebs pia cum (que) pia laetetur plebe Senatus:
Redde Deo grates ANGLIA tota tuo.
Attulit illa Dies fessis miseris (que) Leuamen,
Et Lumen caecis, attulitilla Dies.
Tempora temporibus mutantur tristia laetis,
Succedunt summis Gaudia summa Malis.

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