Written by A. COWLEY.

—Tentanda via est quà me quo (que) possim
Tollere humo, victór (que) virûm volitare per ora.

LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the Prince's Arms in St Pauls Church-yard, M.DC.LVI.


HOc tibi de Nato ditissima Mater egeno
Exiguum immensi pignus Amoris habe.
Heu meliora tibi depromere dona volentes
Astringit gratas parcior arca manus.
Tune tui poteris vocem hic agnoscere Nati
Tam malé formatam, dissimilem (que) tuae?
Túne hic materni vestigia sacra decoris,
Tu Speculum poteris híc reperire tuum?
Post longum, dices, Coulei, sic mihi tempus?
Sic mihi speranti, perfide, multa redis?
Quae, dices, Sagae Lemurés (que) Déae (que) nocentes,
Hunc mihi in Infantis supposuere loco?
At Tu, sancta Parens, crudelis tu quoque, Nati
Ne tractes dextrâ vulnera cruda rudi.
Hei mihi, quid Fato Genetrix accedis iniquo?
Sit Sors, sed non sis Ipsa Noverca mihi.
Si mihi natali Musarum adolescere in arvo,
Si bené dilecto luxuriare solo,
Si mihi de doctâ licuisset pleniús undâ
Haurire, ingentem si satiare sitim,
Non ego degeneri dubitabilis ore redirem,
Nec legeres Nomen fusa rubore meum
Scis bené, scis quae me Tempestas publica Mundi
Raptatrix vestro sustulit é gremio,
Nec pede adhúc firmo, nec firmo dente, negati
Poscentem querulo murmure Lactis opem.
Sic quondam aerium Vento bellante per aequor,
Cum gravidum Autumnum saeva flagellet Hyems.
Immatura suâ velluntur ab arbore poma,
Et vi victa cadunt; Arbor & ipsa gemit▪
Nondum succus inest terrae generosus avitae,
Nondum Sol roseoredditur ore Pater.
O mihi jucundum Grantae super omnia Nomen!
O penitús toto corde receptus Amor!
O pulchrae sine Luxu Aedes, vitae (que) beatae,
Splendida Paupertas, ingenuús (que) decor!
O chara ante alias, magnorum nomine Regnum
Digna Domus! [...]rini nomine digna Dei.
O nimium Cereris cumulati munere Campi,
Posthabitis Ennae quos colit illa jugis!
O sacri Fontes! & sacrae Vatibus Vmbrae,
Quas recreant Avium Pieridum (que) chori!
O Camus! Phoebo nullus quo gratior amnis!
Amnibus auriferis invidiosus inops!
Ah mihi si vestrae reddat bona gaudia sedis,
Det (que) Deus doctâ posse quiete frui!
Qualis eram cum me tranquillâ mente sedentem
Vidisti in ripâ, Came serene, tuâ;
Mulcentem audisti puerili flumina cantu;
Ille quidém immerito, sed tibi gratus erat.
Nam, memini ripâ cum tu dignatus utrâ (que)
Dignatum est totum verba referre nemus.
Tunc liquidis tacitisq, simul mea vita diebus,
Et similis vestrae candida fluxit aquae.
At nunc [...]aenosae luces, at (que) obiice multo
Rumpitur aetatis turbidus ordo meae.
Quid mihi Sequanâ opus, Tamesisve aut Thybridisunda?
Tu potis es nostram tollere, Came, sitim.
Foelix qui nunquam plus uno viderit amne!
Qui (que) eadem Salicis littora more colit!
Foelix qui non tentatus sordescere Mundus,
Et cui Pauperies nota nitere potest!
Tempore cui nullo misera experientia constat,
Ut res humanas sentiat esse Nihil▪
At nos exemplis Fortuna instruxit opimis,
Et documentorum sat (que) super (que) dedit.
Cum Capite a vulsum, Diadema, infracta (que) sceptra,
Contusas (que) Hominum Sorte minante minas,
Parcarum ludos, & non tractabile Fatum,
Et versas fundo vidimus orbis opes.
Quis poterit fragilem post talia credere puppim
In [...]ami scopulis naufragiis (que) Mari?
Tu quoque in hoc Terrae tremuisti, Academia, Motu,
(Nec frustrà) at (que) aedes contremuêre tuae.
Contremuére ipsae pacatae Palladis arces;
Et timuit Fulmen Laurea sancta novum.
Ah quanquam iratum, pestem hanc avertere Numen,
Nec saltem Bellis ista licere, velit!
Nos, tua progenies, pereamus; & ecce, perimus!
In nos jus habeat: Ius habet omne malum.
Tu stabilis brevium genus immortale nepotum
Fundes; nec tibi Mors ipsa superstes erit.
Semper plena manens uteri de fonte perenni
Formosas mittes ad mare Mortis aquas.
Sic Venus humanâ quondam, Dea saucia dextrâ.
(Nam (que) so [...]ent ipsis Bella nocere Deis)
Imploravit opem superûm, questus (que) cievit,
Tinxit adorandus candida membra [...]ruor.
Quid quereris? contemne breves secura dolores;
Nam tibi ferre Necem vulnera nulla valent.


AT my return lately into England, I met by great accident (for such I account it to be, that any Copy of it should be extant any where so long, unless at his house who print­ed it) a Book entituled, The Iron Age, and published un­der my name, during the time of my absence. I wondred very much how one who could be so foolish to write so ill Verses, should yet be so Wise to set them forth as another Mans rather then his own; though perhaps he might have made a better choice, and not fathered the Bastard upon such a person, whose stock of Reputation is, I fear, little enough for maintenance of his own numerous Legitimate Off-spring of that kinde. It would have been much less in­jurious, if it had pleased the Author to put forth some of my Writings under his own name, rather then his own un­der mine: He had been in that a more pardonable Pla­giary, and had done less wrong by Robbery, then he does by such a Bounty; for no body can be justified by the Im­putation even of anothers Merit; and our own course Cloathes are like to become us better, then those of ano­ther mans, though never so rich▪ but these, to say the truth, were so beggarly, that I my self was ashamed to wear them. It was in vain for me, that I avoided censure by the con­cealment of my own writings, if my reputation could be thus Executed in Effigie; and impossible it is for any good Name to be in safety, if the malice of Witches have the power to consume and destroy it in an Image of their [Page] own making. This indeed was so ill made, and so un­like, that I hope the Charm took no effect. So that I esteem my self less prejudiced by it, then by that which has been done to me, since almost in the same kinde, which is, the publication of some things of mine without my consent or knowledge, and those so mangled and imperfect, that I could neither with honor acknowledge, nor with ho­nesty quite disavow them. Of which sort, was a Comedy called The Guardian, printed in the year, 1650. but made and acted before the Prince, in his passage through Cam­bridge towards York, at the beginning of the late unhappy War; or rather neither made not acted, but rough-drawn onely, and repeated; for the hasie was so great, that it could neither be ravised or perfected by the Author, nor learnt without-Book by the Actors, nor set forth in any measure tolerably by the Officers of the College. After the Representation (which, I confess, was somewhat of the latest) I began to look it over, and changed it very much, striking out some whole parts, as that of the Poet and the Souldier; but I have lost the Copy, and dare not think it deserves the pains to write it again, which makes me o­mit it in this publication, though there be some things in it which I am not ashamed of, taking in the excuse of my age and small experience in humane conversation when I made it. But as it is, it is onely the hasty first-sit­ting of a Picture, and therefore like to resemble me ac­cordingly. From this which had hapned to my self, I be­gan to reflect upon the fortune of almost all Writers, and especially Poets, whose Works (commonly printed af­ter their deaths) we finde stuffed out, either with counter­feit pieces, like false Money put in to fill up the Bag, though it adde nothing to the sum; or with such, which though of their own Coyn, they would have called in themselves, for the baseness of the Allay: whether this proceed from the indiscretion of their Friends, who think a vast heap of Stones or Rubbish a better Monument, then a little Tomb of Marble, or by the unworthy avarice of some Stationers, who are content to diminish the value of the Author, so they may encrease the price of the Book; and like Vintners with sophisticate mixtures, spoil the whole vessel of wine, [Page] to make it yield more profit. This has been the case with Shakespear, Fletcher, Iohnson, and many others; part of whose Poems I should take the boldness to prune and lop away, if the care of replanting them in print did be­long to me; neither would I make any scruple to cut off from some the unnecessary yong Suckars, and from others the old withered Branches; for a great Wit is no more tyed to live in a Vast Volume, then in a Gigantie Body; on the contrary, it is commonly more vigorous, the less space it animates. And as Statius says of little Tydaeus,

—Totos infusa per artus
Stat. 1. [...]. Theb.
Major in exiguo regnabat corpore virtus.

I am not ignorant, that by saying this of others, I expose my self to some Raillery, for not using the same severe discretion in my own case, where it concerns me nearer: But though I publish here, more then in strict wisdom I ought to have done, yet I have supprest and cast away more then I publish; and for the ease of my self and others, have lost, I believe too, more then both. And upon these considerations I have been perswaded to overcome all the just repugnances of my own modesty, and to produce these Poems to the light and view of the World; not as a thing that I approved of in it self, but as a lesser evil, which I chose rather then to stay till it were done for me by some body else, either surreptitiously before, or avowedly af­ter my death; and this will be the more excusable, when the Reader shall know in what respects he may look upon me as a Dead, or at least a Dying Person, and upon my Muse in this action, as appearing, like the Emperor Charls the Fifth, and assisting at her own Funeral.

For to make my self absolutely dead in a Poetical ca­pacity, my resolution at present, is never to exercise any more that faculty. It is, I confess, but seldom seen that the Poet dyes before the Man; for when we once fall in love with that bewitching Art, we do not use to court it as a Mistress, but marry it as a Wife, and take it for better or worse, as an Inseparable Companion of our whole life. But as the Mariages of Infants do but rarely prosper, so no [Page] man ought to wonder at the diminution or decay of my affection to Poesie; to which I had contracted my self so much under Age, and so much to my own prejudice in regard of those more profitable matches which I might have made among the richer Sciences. As for the Portion which this brings of Fame, it is an Estate (if it be any, for men are not oftner deceived in their hopes of Widows, then in their opinion of, Exegi monumentum are perennius) that hardly ever comes in whilst we are Living to enjoy it, but is a fantastical kind of Reversion to our own selves: nei­ther ought any man to envy Poets this posthumous and imaginary happiness, since they finde commonly so little in present, that it may be truly applyed to them, which S. Paul speaks of the first Christians, If their reward be in this life, they are of all men the most miserable.

And if in quiet and flourishing times they meet with so small encouragement, what are they to expect in rough and troubled ones? if wi [...] be such a Plant, that it scarce receives heat enough to preserve it alive even in the Sum­mer of our cold Clymate, how can it choose but wither in a long and a sharp winter? a warlike, various, and a tragi­cal age is best to write of, but worst to write in. And I may, though in a very unequal proportion, assume that to my self, which was spoken by Tully to a much better person, upon occasion of the Civil Wars and Revolu­tions in his time, Cic. de Clar. Ora­tor. Sed in te intuens, Brute, doleo, cujus in adolescentiam per medias laudes quasi [...]quadrigis vehentem transversa incurrit misera fortuna Reipublicae.

Neither is the present constitution of my Mind more proper then that of the Times for this exercise, or rather divertisement. There is nothing that requires so much serenity and chearfulness of Spirit▪ it must not be either overwhelmed with the cares of Life, or overcast with the Clouds of Melancholy and Sorrow, or shaken and disturb­ed with the storms of injurious Fortune; it must like the Halcyon, have fair weather to breed in. The Soul must be filled with bright and delightful Idaea's, when it under­takes to communicate delight to others; which is the main end of Poesie. One may see through the stile of Ovid de Trist. the humbled and dejected condition of Spirit with [Page] which he wrote it; there scarce remains any footsteps of that Genius, ‘Quem nec Iovis ira, nec ignes, &c.’ The cold of the Countrey had strucken through all his fa­culties, and benummed the very feet of his Verses. He is himself, methinks, like one of the Stories of his own Me­tamorphosis; and though there remain some weak resem­blances of Ovid at Rome, It is but as he says of Niobe,

In vultu color oft sine sanguine,
Ovid. Metam. l. 6.
lumina maestis
Stant immota genis; nihil est in Imagine vivum,
Flet tamen—

The truth is, for a man to write well, it is necessary to be in good humor; neither is Wit less eclypsed with the unquietness of Mind, then Beauty with the Indisposition of Body. So that 'tis almost as hard a thing to be a Poet in despight of Fortune, as it is in despight of Nature. For my own part, neither my obligations to the Muses, nor ex­pectations from them are so great, as that I should suffer my self upon no considerations to be divorced; or that I should say like Horace, ‘Quisquis erit vitae, Hor. Sat 1. l 2. Ser. Seribam, color.’ I shall rather use his words in another place,

Vixi Camaenis nuper idoneus,
L. 3. Car. Ode 26. Vixi puellis▪ &c.
Et militari non sine gloriâ,
Nunc arma defunctúm (que) bello
Barbiton hic paries habebit.

And this resolution of mine does the more befit me, be­cause my desire has been for some years past (though the execution has been accidentally diverted) and does stil ve­hemently continue, to retire my self to some of our American Plantations, not to seek for Gold, or inrich my self with the traffique of those parts (which is the end of [Page] most men that travel thither; so that of these Indies it is truer then it was of the former,

Improbus extremos currit Mercator ad Indos
Pauperiem fugiens—)

But to forsake this world for ever, with all the vanities and Vexations of it, and to bury my self in some obscure re­treat there (but not without the consolation of Letters and Philosophy) ‘Oblitús (que) meorum, obliviscendus & illis.’ As my former Author speaks too, who has inticed me here, I know not how, into the Pedantry of this heap of Latine Sentences. And I think Doctor Donnes Sun Dyal in a grave is not more useless and ridiculous then Poetry would be in that retirement. As this therefore is in a true sense a kind of Death to the Muses, and a real literal quitting of this World: So, methinks, I may make a just claim to the undoubted priviledge of Deceased Poets, which is to be read with more favor, then the Living; ‘Tanti est ut placeam tibi, Mart. Perire.’

Having been forced for my own necessary justification to trouble the Reader with this long Discourse of the Rea­sons why I trouble him also with all the rest of the Book, I shall onely add somewhat concerning the several parts of it, and some other pieces, which I have thought fit to reject in this publication: As first, all those which I wrote at School from the age of ten years, till after fifteen; for even so far backward there remain yet some traces of me in the little footsteps of a childe; which though they were then looked upon as commendable extravances in a Boy (men setting a value upon any kind of fruit before the usual season of it) yet I would be loth to be bound now to read them all over my self; and therefore should do ill to expect that patience from others. Besides, they have alrea­dy past through several Editions, which is a longer Life [Page] then uses to be enjoyed by Infants that are born before the ordinary terms. They had the good fortune then to find the world so indulgent (for considering the time of their production, who could be so hard-hearted to be se­vere?) that I scarce yet apprehend so much to be cen­sured for them, as for not having made advances after­wards proportionable to the speed of my setting out, and am obliged too in a maner by Discretion to conceal and suppress them, as Promises and Instruments under my own hand, whereby I stood engaged for more then I have been able to perform; in which truly, if I have failed, I have the real excuse of the honestest sort of Bankrupts, which is, to have been made Vnsolvable, not so much by their own negligence and ill-husbandry, as by some notorious ac­cidents, and publike disasters. In the next place, I have cast away all such pieces as I wrote during the time of the late troubles, with any relation to the differences that caused them; as among others, three Books of the Civil War it self, reaching as far as the first Battel of Newbury, where the succeeding misfortunes of the party stopt the work; for it is so uncustomary, as to become almost ri­diculous, to make Lawrels for the Conquered Now though in all Civil Dissentions, when they break into open hosti­lities, the War of the Pen is allowed to accompany that of the Sword, and every one is in a maner obliged with his Tongue, as well as Hand, to serve and assist the side which he engages in; yet when the event of battel, and the un­accountable Will of God has determined the controversie, and that we have submitted to the conditions of the Con­queror, we must lay down our Pens as well as Arms, we must march out of our Cause it self, and dismantle that, as well as our Towns and Castles, of all the Works and Forti­fications of Wit and Reason by which we defended it. We ought not sure, to begin our selves to revive the remem­brance of those times and actions for which we have re­ceived a General Amnestie, as a Favor from the Victor. The truth is, neither We, nor They, ought by the Represen­tation of Places and Images▪ to make a kind of Artificial Memory of those things wherein we are all bound to desire like Themistocles, the Art of Oblivion. The enmities of [Page] Fellow-Citizens should be, like that of Lovers, the Re­dintegration of their Amity. The Names of Party, and Titles of Division, which are sometimes in effect the whole quarrel, should be extinguished and forbidden in peace under the notion of Acts of Hostility. And I would have it accounted no less unlawful to rip up old wounds, then to give new ones; which has made me not onely ab­stain from printing any things of this kinde, but to burn the very copies, and inflict a severer punishment on them my self, then perhaps the most rigid Officer of State would have thought that they deserved.

As for the ensuing Book, it consists of four parts: The first is a Miscellanie of several Subjects, and some of them made when I was very young, which it is perhaps super­fluous to tell the Reader; I know not by what chance I have kept Copies of them; for they are but a very few in com­parison of those which I have lost, and I think they have no extraordinary virtue in them, to deserve more care in preservation, then was bestowed upon their Brethren; for which I am so little concerned, that I am ashamed of the arrogancy of the word, when I said, I had lost them.

The Second, is called, The Mistress, or Love-Verses; for so it is, that Poets are scarce thought Free-men of their Company, without paying some duties, and obliging them­selves to be true to Love. Sooner or later they must all pass through that Tryal, like some Mahumetan Monks, that are bound by their Order, once at least, in their life, to make a Pilgrimage to Meca, ‘In furias igném (que) ruunt; Amor omnibus idem.’ But we must not always make a judgement of their man­ners from their writings of this kind; as the Romanists un­charitably do of Beza, for a few lascivious Sonnets com­posed by him in his youth. It is not in this sense that Poesie is said to be a kind of Painting; it is not the Picture of the Poet, but of things and persons imagined by him. He [Page] may be in his own practice and disposition a Philoso­pher, nay a Stoick, and yet speak sometimes with the softness of an amorous Sappho. ‘Feret & rubus asper Amomum.’ He professes too much the use of Fables (though with­out the malice of deceiving) to have his testimony taken even against himself. Neither would I here be mis­understood, as if I affected so much gravity, as to be ashamed to be thought really in Love. On the contra­ry, I cannot have a good opinion of any man who is not at least capable of being so. But I speak it to excuse some expressions (if such there be) which may hap­pen to offend the severity of supercilious Readers; for much Excess is to be allowed in Love, and even more in Poetry; so we avoid the two unpardonable vices in both, which are Obscenity and Prophaneness, of which I am sure, if my words be ever guilty, they have ill­represented my thoughts and intentions. And if, not­withstanding all this, the lightness of the matter here displease any body; he may finde wherewithal to con­tent his more serious inclinations in the weight and height of the ensuing Arguments.

For as for the Pindarick Odes (which is the third part) I am in great doubt whether they wil be understood by most Readers; nay, even by very many who are well e­nough acquainted with the common Roads, and ordi­nary Tracks of Poesie. They either are, or at least were meant to be, of that kinde of Stile which Dion. Halicarnasseus calls, [...], and which he attributes to Alcaeus: The digressions are many, and sudden, and sometimes long, according to the fashion of all Lyriques, and of Pindar above all men living. The Figures are unusual and bold, even to Temeritie, and such as I durst not have to do withal in any other kinde of Poetry: The Numbers are various and irregular, and sometimes (especially some of the [Page] long ones) seem harsh and uncouth, if the just mea­sures and cadencies be not observed in the Pronunci­ation. So that almost all their Sweetness and Numerosity (which is to be found, if I mistake not, in the rough­est, if rightly repeated) lies in a maner wholly at the Mercy of the Reader. I have briefly described the na­ture of these Verses, in the Ode entituled, The Resurre­ction: And though the Liberty of them may incline a man to believe them easie to be composed, yet the un­dertaker will finde it otherwise.

—Vt sibi quivis
Speret idem, multum sudet frustra (que) laboret
Ausus idem—.

I come now to the last Part, which is, Davideis, or an Heroical Poem of the Troubles of David; which I designed into Twelve Books; not for the Tribes sake, but after the Patern of our Master Virgil; and intend­ed to close all with that most Poetical and excellent Elegie of Davids upon the death of Saul and Ionathan: For I had no mind to carry him quite on to his Anoint­ing at Hebron, because it is the custom of Heroick Poets (as we see by the examples of Homer and Virgil whom we should do ill to forsake to imitate others) never to come to the full end of their Story; but one­ly so near, that every one may see it; as men common­ly play not out the game, when it is evident that they can win it, but lay down their Cards, and take up what they have won. This, I say, was the whole Designe, in which there are many noble and fertile Arguments behinde; as, The barbarous cruelty of Saul to the Priests at Nob, the several flights and escapes of David, with the maner of his living in the Wilderness, the Funeral of Samuel, the love of Abigal, the sacking of Ziglag, the loss and recovery of Davids wives from the Amalekites, the Witch of Endor, the war with the Philistims, and the Battel of Gilboa; all which I meant to interweave upon several occasions, with most of the illustrious Stories of the Old Testament, and to embellish with the [Page] most remarkable Antiquities of the Iews, and of other Nations before or at that Age. But I have had neither Leisure hitherto, nor have Appetite at present to finish the work, or so much as to revise that part which is done with that care which I resolved to bestow upon it, and which the Dignity of the Matter well deserves. For what worthier subject could have been chosen among all the Treasuries of past times, then the Life of this young Prince; who from so small beginnings, through such infinite troubles and oppositions, by such mira­culous virtues and excellencies, and with such incom­parable variety of wonderful actions and accidents, be­came the greatest Monarch that ever sat upon the most famous Throne of the whole Earth? whom should a Poet more justly seek to honor, then the highest person who ever honored his Profession? whom a Christian Poet, rather then the man after Gods own heart, and the man who had that sacred pre-eminence above all other Princes, to be the best and mightiest of that Royal Race from whence Christ himself, according to the flesh, disdained not to descend? When I consider this, and how many other bright and magnificent subjects of the like nature, the Holy Scripture affords, and Prof­fers, as it were, to Poesie, in the wise managing and illustrating whereof, the Glory of God Almighty might be joyned with the singular utility and noblest delight of Mankinde: It is not without grief and indignation that I behold that Divine Science employing all her in­exhaustable riches of Wit and Eloquence, either in the wicked and beggarly Flattery of great persons, or the unmanly Idolizing of Foolish Women, or the wretch­ed affectation of scurril Laughter, or at best on the confused antiquated Dreams of senseless Fables and Metamorphoses. Amongst all holy and consecrated things which the Devil ever stole and alienated from the service of the Deity; as Altars, Temples, Sacrifices, Prayers, and the like; there is none that he so univer­sally, and so long usurpt, as Poetry. It is time to re­cover it out of the Tyrants hands, and to restore it to [Page] the Kingdom of God, who is the Father of it. It is time to Baptize it in Iordan, for it will never become clean by bathing in the Waters of Damascus. There wants, methinks, but the Conversion of That, and the Iews, for the accomplishing of the Kingdom of Christ. And as men before their receiving of the Faith, do not without some carnal reluctancies, apprehend the bonds and fetters of it, but finde it afterwards to be the truest and greatest Liberty: It will fare no otherwise with this Art, after the Regeneration of it; it will meet with wonderful variety of new, more beautiful, and more delightful Objects; neither will it want Room, by being confined to Heaven. There is not so great a Lye to be found in any Poet, as the vulgar conceit of men, that Lying is Essential to good Poetry. Were there never so wholesome Nourishment to be had (but, alas, it breeds nothing but Diseases) out of these boasted Feasts of Love and Fables; yet, methinks, the unalterable con­tinuance of the Diet should make us Nauseate it: For it is almost impossible to serve up any new Dish of that kinde. They are all but the Cold-meats of the Antients, new-heated, and new set forth. I do not at all won­der that the old Poets made some rich crops out of these grounds; the heart of the Soil was not then wrought out with continual Tillage: But what can we expect now, who come a Gleaning, not after the first Reapers. but after the very Beggars? Besides, though those mad stories of the Gods and Heroes, seem in themselves so ri­diculous; yet they were then the whole Body (or rather Chaos) of the Theologie of those times. They were be­lieved by all but a few Philosophers, and perhaps some Atheists, and served to good purpose among the vul­gar, (as pitiful things as they are) in strengthening the authority of Law with the terrors of Conscience, and Ex­pectation of certain rewards, and unavoidable punish­ments. There was no other Religion, and therefore that was better then none at all. But to us who have no need of them, to us who deride their folly, and are wea­ried with their impertinencies▪ they ought to appear no [Page] better arguments for Verse, then those of their worthy Successors, the Knights Errant What can we imagine more proper for the ornaments of Wit or Learning in the story of Deucalion, then in that of Noah? why will not the actions of Sampson afford as plentiful matter as the Labors of Hercules? why is not Ieptha's Daughter as good a woman as Iphigenia? and the friendship of David and Ionathan more worthy celebration, then that of Theseus and Perithous? Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land, yield incomparably more Poetical variety, then the voyages of Vlysses or Aeneas? Are the obsolete threadbare tales of Thebes and Troy, half so stored with great, heroical and supernatural actions (since Verse will needs finde or make such) as the wars of Ioshua, of the Iudges, of David, and divers others? Can all the Transformati­ons of the Gods, give such copious hints to flourish and expatiate on, as the true Miracles of Christ, or of his Prophets, and Apostles? what do I instance in these few particulars? All the Books of the Bible are either al­ready most admirable, and exalted pieces of Poesie, or are the best Materials in the world for it. Yet, though they be in themselves so proper to be made use of for this purpose; None but a good Artist will know how to do it: neither must we think to cut and polish Dia­monds with so little pains and skill as we do Marble. For if any man design to compose a Sacred Poem, by onely turning a story of the Scripture, like Mr. Quar­le [...]'s, or some other godly matter, like Mr. Heywood of Angels, into Rhyme; He is so far from elevating of Poesie, that he onely abases Divinity. In brief, he who can write a prophane Poem well, may write a Di­vine one better; but he who can do that but ill, will do this much worse. The same fertility of Invention, the same wisdom of Disposition; the same Iudgement in observance of Decencies, the same lustre and vigor of Elocution; the same modesty and majestie of Number; briefly the same kinde of Habit, is required to both; only this latter allows better stuff, and therefore would [Page] look more deformedly, if ill drest in it. I am farre from assuming to my self to have fulfilled the duty of this weighty undertaking: But sure I am, that there is nothing yet in our Language (nor perhaps in any) that is in any degree answerable to the Idea that I con­ceive of it. And I shall be ambitious of no other fruit from this weak and imperfect attempt of mine, but the opening of a way to the courage and industry of some other persons, who may be better able to perform it throughly and succesfully.



THe Reader is desired to correct with his pen, these ensuing errors, which are material, and corrupt the sense. False pointings, false spellings, and such like venial faults (as also some mistakes in the Greek) are recommended to his judgement and candor to mend as he reads them.

Faults in the Preface. Gigantie for Gigantique, Tidaeus for Tideus, Militari for Militavi.

In the Miscellanies. Page 5. line 30. Past for Pass, p. 14. l. 6. Littled-Much for Little much, p. 21. l. 24. Natures for Nature, lb. l. 34. plac for place, p. 35. l. 16. Love for Loves.

In the Pindariques. Page 24. l. 32. once for one, p. 26. l. 11. till for tis, p. 34. l. 13. to had for t'had, p. 37. l. 34. Poetry for Poverty, p. 38. l. 6. Claudines for Claudians, p. 46. l. 23. within for which in.

In Davideis, B. 1. Page 9. l. 1. thine own for shine on, p. 10. l. 17. Noon for Moon, p. 25. l. 11. Nemessarius for Nemesianus, p. 26. l. 10. Mineius for Mincius, 1. 11. dele con, p. 27. l. 27. dele we, p. 28. l. 11. seem for seems, p. 34. l. 3. has for have, p. 36. l. 7. dele And, p. 41. l. 15. Tatus for Talus, l. 19. In Boetius for In Boeotic. p. 44. l. 5. The for de.

David. B. 2. Page 47. l. 31. Ioy for Ivy, p. 49. l. 9. their for your, p. 75. l. 44. Syrians for Syrian, p. 60. l. 7. Angels for Angel, lb. l. 40▪ forepart for forepast, p. 62. l. Scrape'd neatly from pure Ar [...]ams, for Caught gliding ore pure streams.

David. B. 3. Page 86. l. 20. had for led, p. 87. l. 45. Nobler age for Noble rage, p. 94. l. 23. Iesse for Iessey. p. 96. l. 32. call'd for call, p. 99. l. 43. objects, for object, p. 110. l. 36. Beaten Chederl. for Beaten by Chederlaom. l. 44. dele or, p. 112. l. 28. Plato to the Comaed. for Plato the Comed. p. 114 l. 41. Re­ginem grava for Regina gravem.

David. B. 4. Page 124. l. 26. Word for Sword, p. 129. l. 28. honor for horror, p. 142. l. 37. rent for went, p. 151. l▪ 45. Iosephus for Ioseph.

David. in Lat. Page 3. l. 42. To ti pro Torti, p. 5. l. 12. Erebrum pro Erebum, p. 7. l. 46. Iusto pro Iusso, p. 19. l. 11. Venatur pro venator.

Miscellanies.THE MOT …


THE MOTTO. Tentanda via est, &c.

WHat shall I do to be for ever known,
And make the Age to come my own?
I shall like Beasts or Common People dy,
Unless you write my Elegy;
Whilst others Great, by being Born are grown,
Their Mothers Labour, not their own.
In this Scale Gold, in th'other Fame does ly,
The weight of that, mounts this so high.
These men are Fortunes Iewels, moulded bright;
Brought forth with their own fire and light.
If I, her vulgar stone for either look;
Out of my self it must be strook.
Yet I must on; what sound is't strikes mine ear?
Sure I Fames Trumpet hear.
It sounds like the last Trumpet; for it can
Raise up the bur'ied Man.
Unpast Alpes stop me, but I'll cut through all,
And march, the Muses Hannibal.
Hence all the flattering vanities that lay
Nets of Roses in the way▪
Hence the desire of Honors, or Estate;
And all, that is not above Fate.
Hence Love himself, that Tyrant of my days,
Which intercepts my coming praise.
Come my best Friends, my Books, and lead me on;
'Tis time that I were gon.
Welcome, great Stagirite, and teach me now
All I was born to know.
Thy Scholars vict'ories thou dost far out-doe;
He conquer'ed th' Earth, the whole World you.
Welcome, learn'd Cicero, whose blest Tongue and Wit
Preserves Romes greatness yet.
Thou art the first of Ora'tors; onely he
Who best can praise Thee, next must be.
Welcome the Mantu'an Swan, Virgil the Wise,
Whose verse walks highest, but not flies.
Who brought green Poesie to her perfect Age;
And made that Art which was a Rage.
Tell me, ye mighty Three, what shall I do
To be like one of you.
But you have climb'd the Mountains top, there sit
On the calm flourishing head of it,
And whilst with wearied steps we upward go,
See Us, and Clouds below.

ODE. Of Wit.

TEll me, O tell, what kinde of thing is Wit,
Thou who Master art of it.
For the First Matter loves Variety less;
Less Women love't, either in Love or Dress.
A thousand different shapes it bears,
Comely in thousand shapes appears.
Yonder we saw it plain; and here 'tis now,
Like Spirits in a Place, we know not How.
London that vents of false Ware so much store,
In no Ware deceives us more.
For men lead by the Colour, and the Shape,
Like Zeuxe's Birds fly to the painted Grape,
Some things do through our Iudgement pass
As through a Multiplying Glass.
And sometimes, if the Object be too far,
We take a Falling Meteor for a Star.
Hence 'tis a Wit that greatest word of Fame
Grows such a common Name.
And Wits by our Creation they become,
Iust so, as Tit'ular Bishops made at Rome.
'Tis not a Tale, 'tis not a Iest
Admir'ed with Laughter at a feast,
Nor florid Talk which can that Title gain;
The Proofs of Wit for ever must remain.
'Tis not to force some lifeless Verses meet
With their five gowty feet.
All ev'ery where, like Mans, must be the Soul,
And Reason the Inferior Powers controul.
Such were the Numbers which could call
The Stones into the Theban wall.
Such Miracles are ceast; and now we see
No Towns or Houses rais'd by Poetrie.
Yet 'tis not to adorn, and gild each part;
That shows more Cost, then Art.
Iewels at Nose and Lips but ill appear;
Rather then all things Wit, let none be there.
Several Lights will not be seen,
If there be nothing else between.
Men doubt, because they stand so thick i'th' skie,
If those be Stars which paint the Galaxie.
'Tis not when two like words make up one noise,
Iests for Dutch Men, and English Boys.
In which who finds out Wit, the same may see
In An'agrams and Acrostiques Poetrie.
Much less can that have any place
At which a Virgin hides her face,
Such Dross the Fire must purge away; 'tis just
The Author blush, there where the Reader must.
'Tis not such Lines as almost crack the Stage
When Bajazet begins to rage.
Nor a tall Metaphor in th'Oxford way,
Nor the dry chips of short lung'ed Seneca.
Nor upon all things to obtrude,
And force some odde Similitude.
What is it then, which like the Power Divine
We onely can by Negatives define?
In a true piece of Wit all things must be,
Yet all things there agree.
As in the Ark, joyn'd without force or strife,
All Creatures dwelt; all Creatures that had Life.
Or as the Primitive Forms of all
(If we compare great things with small)
Which without Discord or Confusion lie,
In that strange Mirror of the Deitie.
But Love that moulds One Man up out of Two.
Makes me forget and injure you.
I took you for my self sure, when I thought
That you in any thing were to be Taught.
Correct my error with thy Pen;
And if any ask me then,
What thing right Wit, and height of Genius is,
I'll onely shew your Lines, and say, 'Tis This.

To the Lord Falkland. For his safe Return from the Northern Expedition against the Scots.

GReat is thy Charge, O North; be wise and just,
England commits her Falkland to thy trust;
Return him safe: Learning would rather choose
Her Bodley, or her Vatican to loose.
All things that are but writ or printed there,
In his unbounded Breast engraven are.
There all the Sciences together meet,
And every Art does all her Kindred greet.
Yet justle not, nor quarrel▪ but as well
Agree as in some Common Principle.
So in an Army govern'ed right we see
(Though out of several Countreys rais'd it be)
That all their Order and their Place maintain,
The English, Dutch, the Frenchman and the Dane.
So thousand diverse Species fill the aire,
Yet neither crowd nor mix confus'dly there,
Beasts, Houses, Trees, and Men together lye,
Yet enter undisturb'd into the Eye.
And this great Prince of Knowledge is by Fate
Thrust into th'noise and business of a State,
All Virtues, and some Customs of the Court,
Other mens Labour, are at least his Sport.
Whilst we who can no action undertake,
Whom Idleness it self might Learned make,
Who hear of nothing, and as yet scarce know,
Whether the Scots in England be or no.
Pace dully on, oft tire, and often stay,
Yet see his nimble Pegasus fly away.
'Tis Natures fault who did thus partial grow,
And her Estate of Wit on One bestow.
Whilst we like younger Brothers, get at best
But a small Stock, and must work out the rest.
How could he answer't, should the State think fit
To question a Monopoly of Wit?
Such is the Man whom we require the same
We lent the North; untoucht as is his Fame.
He is too good for War, and ought to be
As far from Danger, as from Fear he's free.
Those Men alone (and those are useful too)
Whose Valour is the onely Art they know,
Were for sad War and bloody Battels born;
Let Them the State Defend, and He Adorn.

On the Death of Sir Henry Wootton.

WHat shall we say, since silent now is He
Who when he Spoke all things would Silent be?
Who had so many Languages in store,
That onely Fame shall speak of him in More!
Whom England now no more return'd must see.
He's gone to Heav'en on his Fourth Ambassie.
On earth he travell'd often; not to say
H'ad been abroad, or past loose Time away.
In whatsoever Land he chanc'ed to come,
He read the Men and Manners, bringing home
Their Wisdom, Learning, and their Pietie,
As if he went to Conquer, not to See.
So well he understood the most and best
Of Tongues that Babel sent into the West,
Spoke them so truly, that he had (you'd sweare)
Not onely Liv'ed, but been Born every where.
Iustly each Nations Speech to him was known,
Who for the World was made, not us alone.
Nor ought the Language of that Man be less
Who in his Breast had all things to express.
We say that Learning's endless, and blame Fate
For not allowing Life a longer date.
He did the utmost Bounds of Knowledge finde,
He found them not so large as was his Minde.
But, like the brave Pellaean Youth, did mone
Because that Art had no more worlds then One.
And when he saw that he through all had past,
He dy'ed, lest he should Idle grow at last.

On the Death of Mr. Iordan, Second Master at Westminster School.

HEnce, and make room for me, all you who come
Onely to read the Epitaph on this Tombe.
Here lies the Master of my tender years,
The Guardian of my Parents Hope and Fears,
Whose Government nere stood me in a Teare;
All weeping was reserv'ed to spend it here.
Come hither all who his rare virtues knew,
And mourn with Me: He was your Tutor too.
Let's joyn our Sighes, till they fly far, and shew
His native Belgia what she's now to doe.
The League of grief bids her with us lament;
By her he was brought forth, and hither sent
In payment of all Men we there had lost,
And all the English Blood those wars have cost.
Wisely did Nature this learn'd Man divide;
His Birth was Theirs, his Death the mournful pride
Of England; and t'avoid the envious strife
Of other Lands, all Europe had his Life,
But we in chief; our Countrey soon was grown
A Debter more to Him, then He to'his Own.
He pluckt from youth the follies and the crimes,
And built up Men against the future times,
For deeds of Age are in their Causes then,
And though he taught but Boys, he made the Men.
Hence 'twas a Master in those ancient dayes
When men sought Knowledge first, and by it Praise,
Was a thing full of Reverence, Profit, Fame;
Father it self was but a Second Name.
He scorn'd the profit; his Instructions all
Were like the Science, Free and Liberal.
He deserv'd Honors, but despis'ed them too
As much as those who have them, others do.
He knew not that which Complement they call;
Could Flatter none, but Himself least of all.
So true, so faithful, and so just as he,
Was nought on earth, but his own Memorie.
His Memory, where all things written were
As sure and fixt as in Fates Books they are.
Thus he in Arts so vast a treasure gain'd,
Whilst still the Use came in, and Stock remain'd.
And having purchas'd all that man can know,
He labor'd with't to enrich others now.
Did thus a new, and harder task sustain,
Like those that work in Mines for others gain.
He, though more nobly, had much more to do,
To search the Vein, dig, purge, and mint it too.
Though my Excuse would be, I must confess,
Much better had his Diligence been less.
But if a Muse hereafter smile on me,
And say, Be thou a Poet, men shall see
That none could a more grateful Scholar have;
For what I ow'ed his Life, I'll pay his Grave.

On His Majesties Return out of Scotland.

WElcome, great Sir, with all the joy that's due
To the return of Peace and You.
Two greatest Blessings which this age can know;
For that to Thee, for Thee to Heav'en we ow.
Others by war their Conquests gain,
You like a God your ends obtain.
Who when rude Chaos for his help did call,
Spoke but the Word, and sweetly Order'd all.
This happy Concord in no Blood is writ,
None can grutch heav'en full thanks for it.
No Mothers here lament their Childrens fate,
And like the Peace, but think it comes too late.
No Widows hear the jocond Bells,
And take them for their Husbands Knells.
No Drop of Blood is spilt which might be said
To mark our joyful Holiday with Red.
'Twas onely Heav'en could work this wondrous thing,
And onely workt by such a King.
Again the Northern Hindes may sing and plow,
And fear no harm but from the weather now.
Again may Tradesmen love their pain
By knowing now for whom they gain.
The Armour now may be hung up to sight,
And onely in their Halls the Children fright.
The gain of Civil wars will not allow
Bay to the Conquerors Brow▪
At such a Game what fool would venture in,
Where one must lose, yet neither side can win?
How justly would our Neighbours smile
At these mad quarrels of our Isle
Sweld with proud hopes to snatch the whole away,
Whilst we Bet all, and yet for nothing Play?
How was the silver Tine frighted before,
And durst not kiss the armed shore?
His waters ran more swiftly then they use,
And hasted to the Sea to tell the News.
The Sea it self, how rough so ere,
Could scarce believe such fury here.
How could the Scots and we be Enemies growne?
That, and its Master Charls had made us One.
No Blood so loud as that of Civil war;
It calls for Dangers from afar.
Let's rather go, and seek out Them, and Fame;
Thus our Fore fathers got, thus left a Name.
All their rich blood was spent with gains,
But that which swells their Childrens Veins.
Why sit we still, our Spi'rits wrapt up in Lead?
Not like them whilst they Liv'ed, but now they're Dead?
This noise at home was but Fates policie
To raise our Sp'irits more high.
So a bold Lyon ere he seeks his prey,
Lashes his sides, and roars, and then away.
How would the Germain Eagle feare,
To see a new Gustavus there?
How would it shake, though as 'twas wont to do
For Iove of old, it now bore Thunder too!
Sure there are actions of this height and praise
Destin'ed to Charls his days.
What will the Triumphs of his Battels be,
Whose very Peace it self is Victorie.
When Heav'en bestows the best of Kings,
It bids us think of mighty things.
His Valour, Wisdom, Offspring speak no less;
And we the Prophets Sons, write not by Guess.

On the Death of Sir Anthony Vandike, The famous Painter.

VAndike is Dead; but what Bold Muse shall dare
(Though Poets in that word with Painters share)
T'express her sadness? Po'esie must become
An Art, like Painting here, an Art that's Dumbe.
Let's all our solemn grief in silence keep,
Like some sad Picture which he made to weep,
Or those who saw't, for none his works could view
Unmov'ed with the same Passions which he drew.
His pieces so with their live objects strive,
That both or Pictures seem, or both Alive.
Nature herself amaz'ed, does doubting stand,
Which is her own, and which the Painters Hand.
And does attempt the like with less success
When her own work in Twins she would express.
His All-resembling Pencil did out-pass
The mimick Imag'ry of Looking-glass.
Nor was his Life less perfect then his Art,
Nor was his Hand less erring then his Heart.
There was no false, or fading Colour there,
The Figures sweet and well proportion'd were.
Most other men, set next to him in view,
Appear'd more shadows then the men he drew.
Thus still he liv'ed till heav'en did for him call,
Where reverent Luke salutes him first of all.
Where he beholds new sights, divinely faire;
And could almost wish for his Pencil there;
Did he not gladly see how all things shine,
Wondrously painted in the Mind Divine,
Whilst he for ever ravisht with the show
Scorns his own Art which we admire below.
Onely his beauteous Lady still he loves;
(The love of heav'enly Objects Heav'en improves)
He sees bright Angels in pure beams appear,
And thinks on her he left so like them here.
And you, fair Widow, who stay here alive,
Since he so much rejoyces, cease to grieve.
Your joys and griefs were wont the same to be;
Begin not now, blest Pair, to Disagree.
No wonder Death mov'ed not his gen'erous mind.
You, and a new-born You, he left behind.
Even Fate exprest his love to his dear Wife,
And let him end your Picture with his Life.

Prometheus ill-painted.

HOw wretched does Promethe'us state appear,
Whilst he his Second Mis'ery suffers here!
Draw him no more, lest as he tortur'ed stands,
He blame great Ioves less then the Painters hands.
It would the Vulturs cruelty outgoe,
If once again his Liver thus should grow.
Pity him Iove, and his bold Theft allow,
The Flames he once stole from thee grant him now.


HEre's to thee Dick; this whining Love despise;
Pledge me, my Friend, and drink till thou be'st wise.
It sparkles brighter far then she:
'Tis pure, and right without deceite;
And such no woman ere will be:
No; they are all Sophisticate.
With all thy servile pains what canst thou win,
But an ill-favor'd, and uncleanly Sin?
A thing so vile, and so short-liv'd,
That Venus Ioys as well as she
With reason may be said to be
From the neglected Foam deriv'ed.
Whom would that painted toy a Beauty move,
Whom would it ere perswade to court and love,
Could he a womans Heart have seen,
(But, oh, no Light does thither come)
And view'd her perfectly within,
When he lay shut up in her womb?
Follies they have so numberless in store,
That onely he who loves them can have more.
Neither their Sighs nor Tears are true;
Those idlely blow, these idlely fall,
Nothing like to ours at all.
But Sighes and Tears have Sexes too.
Here's to thee again; thy senseless sorrows drown'd;
Let the Glass walk, till all things too go round;
Again; till these Two Lights be Four;
No error here can dangerous prove;
Thy Passion, Man, deceiv'ed thee more;
None Double see like Men in Love.

Friendship in Absence.

WHen chance or cruel business parts us two,
What do our Souls I wonder do?
Whilst sleep does our dull Bodies tie
Methinks, at home they should not stay,
Content with Dreams, but boldly flie
Abroad, and meet each other half the way.
Sure they do meet, enjoy each other there,
And mix I know not How, nor Where.
Their friendly Lights together twine,
Though we perceive't not to be so,
Like loving Stars which oft combine,
Yet not themselves their own Conjunctions know.
'Twere an ill World, I'll swear, for every friend,
If Distance could their Union end.
But Love it self does far advance
Above the power of Time and Space,
It scorns such outward Circumstance,
His Times for ever, every where his Place.
I'am there with Thee, yet here with Me Thou art,
Lodg'd in each others heart.
Miracles cease not yet in Love,
When he his mighty Power will try
Absence it self does Bounteous prove,
And strangely ev'en our Presence Multiply.
Pure is the flame of Friendship, and divine
Like that which in Heav'ens Sun does shine:
He in the upper ayr and sky
Does no effects of Heat bestow,
But as his beams the farther fly
He begets Warmth, Life, Beauty here below.
Friendship is less apparent when too nigh,
Like Obiects if they touch the Eye.
Less Meritorious then is Love,
For when we Friends together see
So much, so much Both One do prove,
That their Love then seems but Self-love to be.
Each day think on me, and each day I shall
For thee make Hours Canonical.
By every Wind that comes this way,
Send me at least a sigh or two,
Such and so many I'll repay
As shall themselves make Winds to get to you.
A thousand pretty ways we'll think upon
To mock our Separation.
Alas, ten thousand will not do;
My heart will thus no longer stay,
No longer 'twill be kept from you,
But knocks against the Breast to get away.
And when no Art affords me help or ease,
I seek with verse my griefs t'appease.
Iust as a Bird that flies about
And beats it self against the Cage,
Finding at last no passage out
It sits, and sings, and so orecomes its rage.

To the Bishop of Lincoln, Upon his Enlargement out of the Tower.

PArdon, my Lord, that I am come so late
T'express my joy for your return of Fate.
So when injurious Chance did you deprive
Of Liberty, at first I could not grieve;
My thoughts awhile, like you, Imprison'd lay;
Great Ioys as well as Sorrows make a Stay;
They hinder one another in the Crowd,
And none are heard, whilst all would speak aloud.
Should every mans officious gladness hast,
And be afraid to shew it self the last;
The throng of Gratulations now would be
Another Loss to you of Libertie.
When of your freedom men the news did heare
Where it was wisht for, that is every where,
'Twas like the Speech which from your Lips does fall,
As soon as it was heard it ravisht all.
So Eloqu'ence Tully did from exile come;
Thus long'd for he return'd, and cherisht Rome,
Which could no more his Tongue and Counsels miss;
Rome, the Worlds Head, was nothing without His.
Wrong to those sacred Ashes I should do,
Should I compare any to Him but You;
You to whom Art and Nature did dispence
The Consulship of Wit and Eloquence.
Nor did your fate differ from his at all
Because the doom of Exile was his fall,
For the whole World without a native home
Is nothing but a Pris'on of larger roome,
But like a melting Woman suffer'd He,
He who before out-did Humanitie.
Nor could his Spi'rit constant and stedfast prove,
Whose Art t'had been, and greatest end to Move.
You put ill Fortune in so good a dress
That it outsh one other mens Happiness.
Had your Prosper'ity always clearly gon
As your high Merits would have led it on,
You'had Half been lost, and an Example then
But for the Happy, the least part of men.
Your very sufferings did so graceful shew,
That some straight envy'ed your Affliction too.
For a clear Conscience and Heroick Mind
In I lls their Business and their Glory find.
So though less worthy stones are drown'd in night,
The faithful Diamond keeps his native Light,
And is oblig'ed to Darkness for a ray
That would be more opprest then helpt by Day.
Your Soul then most shew'd her unconquer'd power,
Was stronger and more armed then the Tower.
Sure unkinde fate will tempt your Spi'rit no more,
She'has try'ed her Weakness and your Strength before.
To'oppose him still who once has Conquer'd soe,
Were now to be your Rebel, not your Foe.
Fortune henceforth will more of Provi'dence have,
And rather be your Friend, then be your Slave.

To a Lady who made Posies for Rings.

I Little thought the time would ever bee,
That I should Wit in Dwarfish Posies see.
As all Words in Few Letters live,
Thou to few Words all Sense dost give.
'Twas Nature taught you this rare art
In such a Littled-Much to shew,
Who all the good she did impart
To Womankind Epitomiz'ed in you.
If as the Ancients did not doubt to sing,
The turning Years be well compar'ed to a Ring,
We'll write what ere from you we hear,
For that's the Posie of the Year.
This difference onely will remain,
That Time his former face does shew
Winding into himself again,
But your unweari'ed Wit is always New.
'Tis said that Conju'rers have an Art found out
To carry Spi'rits confin'ed in Rings about.
The wonder now will less appear
When we behold your Magick here.
You by your Rings do Pris'ners take,
And chain them with your mystick Spells,
And the strong Witchcraft full to make,
Love, the great Dev'il, charm'ed to those Circles dwells.
They who above do various Circles finde,
Say, like a Ring th' Aequator Heav'en does bind.
When Heaven shall be adorn'd by thee
(Which then more Heav'en then 'tis will be)
'Tis thou must write the Posie there,
For it wanteth one as yet,
Though the Sun pass through't twice a year,
The Sun who is esteem'd the God of Wit.
Happy the Hands which wear thy sacred Rings,
They'll teach those Hands to write mysterious things.
Let other Rings, with Iewels bright,
Cast around their costly light,
Let them want no noble Stone
By Nature rich, and Art refin'd,
Yet shall thy Rings give place to none,
But onely that which must thy Mariage bind.

Prologue to the Guardian
Before the Prince.

WHo says the Times do Learning disallow?
'Tis false, 'twas never Honor'd so as Now.
When you appear, Great Prince, our Night is done;
You are our Morning Star, and shall be'our Sun.
But our Scene's London now; and by the rout
We perish, if the Round-heads be about.
For now no ornament the Head must wear,
No Bays, no Mitre, not so much as Hair.
How can a Play pass safely, when ye know
Cheapside Cross falls for making but a Show?
Our onely Hope is this, that it may be
A Play may pass too, made Extempore.
Though other Arts poor and neglected grow,
They'l admit Po'esie which was always so.
But we contemn the fury of these days,
And scorn no less their Censure then their Praise.
Our Muse, blest Prince, does onely'on you relie;
Would gladly Live, but not refuse to Dye.
Accept our hasty Zeal; a thing that's play'd
Ere't is a Play, and Acted ere 'tis Made.
Our Ign'orance, but our Duty too we show;
I would all Igno'rant People would do so!
At other Times expect our Wit or Art;
This Comedy is Acted by the Heart.

The Epilogue.

THe Play, great Sir, is done; yet needs must fear,
Though you brought all your Fathers Mercies here,
It may offend your Highness, and we'have now
Three hours done Treason here for ought we know.
But power your grace can above Nature give,
It can give power to make Abortives Live.
In which if our bold wishes should be crost,
'Tis but the Life of one poor week t'has lost;
Though it should fall beneath your mortal scorn,
Scarce could it Dye more quickly then 'twas Born.

On the Death of Mr. William Hervey.

‘Immodicis brevis est aetas, & rara Senectus.’Mart.
IT was a dismal, and a fearful night,
Scarce could the Morn drive on th'unwilling Light,
When Sleep, Deaths Image, left my troubled brest,
By something liker Death possest.
My eyes with Tears did uncommanded flow,
And on my Soul hung the dull weight
Of some Intolerable Fate.
What Bell was that? Ah me! Too much I know.
My sweet Companion, and my gentle Peere,
Why hast thou left me thus unkindely here,
Thy end for ever, and my Life to moan;
O thou hast left me all alone!
Thy Soul and Body when Deaths Agonie
Besieg'ed around thy noble heart,
Did not with more reluctance part
Then I, my dearest Friend, do part from Thee.
My dearest Friend, would I had dy'ed for thee!
Life and this World henceforth will tedious bee.
Nor shall I know hereafter what to do
If once my Griefs prove tedious too.
Silent and sad I walk about all day,
As sullen Ghosts stalk speechless by
Where their hid Treasures ly;
Alas, my Treasure's gone, why do I stay?
He was my Friend, the truest Friend on earth;
A strong and mighty Influence joyn'd our Birth.
Nor did we envy the most sounding Name
By Friendship giv'en of old to Fame.
None but his Brethren he, and Sisters knew,
Whom the kind youth preferr'd to Me;
And eve'n in that we did agree,
For much above my self I lov'd them too.
Say, for you saw us, ye immortal Lights,
How oft unweari'ed have we spent the Nights?
Till the Ledaean Stars so fam'ed for Love,
Wondred at us from above.
We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine;
But search of deep Philosophy,
Wit, Elequence, and Poetry,
Arts which I lov'ed, for they, my Friend, were Thine.
Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say,
Have ye not seen us walking every day?
Was there a Tree about which did not know
The Love betwixt us two?
Henceforth, ye gentle Trees, for ever fade;
Or your sad branches thicker joyne,
And into darksome shades combine,
Dark as the Grave wherein my Friend is laid.
Henceforth no learned Touths beneath you sing,
Till all the tuneful Birds to'your bows they bring;
No tuneful Birds play with their wonted chear,
And call the learned Youths to hear,
No whistling Winds through the glad branches fly,
But all with sad solemnitie,
Mute and unmoved be,
Mute as the Grave wherein my Friend does ly.
To him my Muse made haste with every strain
Whilst it was new, and warm yet from the Brain.
He lov'ed my worthless Rhymes, and like a Friend,
Would finde out something to commend.
Hence now, my Muse, thou canst not me delight;
Be this my latest verse
With which I now adorn his Herse,
And this my Grief, without thy help shall write.
Had I a wreath of Bays about my brow,
I should contemn that flourishing honor now,
Condemn it to the Fire, and joy to hear
It rage and crackle there.
Instead of Bays, crown with sad Cypress me;
Cypress which Tombs does beautifie;
Not Phoebus griev'ed so much as I
For him, who first was made that mournful Tree.
Large was his Soul; as large a Soul as ere
Submitted to Inform a Body here.
High as the Place 'twas shortly in Heav'en to have,
But low, and humble as his Grave.
So high that all the Virtues there did come
As to their chiefest seat
Conspicuous, and great;
So low that for Me too it made a roome.
He scorn'd this busie world below, and all
That we, Mistaken Mortals, Pleasure call;
Was fill'd with inn'ocent Gallantry and Truth,
Triumphant ore the sins of Youth.
He like the Stars, to which he now is gone,
That shine with beams like Flame
Yet burn not with the same,
Had all the Light of Youth, of the Fire none.
Knowledge he onely sought, and so soon caught,
As if for him Knowledge had rather sought.
Nor did more Learning ever crowded lie
In such a short Mortalitie.
When ere the skilful Youth discourst or writ,
Still did the Notions throng
About his eloquent Toung,
Nor could his Ink flow faster then his Wit.
So strong a Wit did Nature to him frame,
As all things but his Iudgement overcame;
His Iudgement like the heav'enly Moon did show,
Tem'pring that mighty Sea below.
Oh had he liv'ed in Learnings World, what bound
Would have been able to controul
His over-powering Soul?
We'have lost in him Arts that not yet are found.
His Mirth was the pure Spirits of various Wit,
Yet never did his God or Friends forget.
And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,
Retir'ed and gave to them their due.
For the rich help of Books he always took,
Though his own searching mind before
Was so with Notions written ore
As if wise Nature had made that her Book.
So many Virtues joyn'd in him, as we
Can scarce pick here and there in Historie.
More then old Writers Practice ere could reach,
As much as they could ever teach.
These did Religion, Queen of Virtues sway,
And all their sacred Motions steare,
Iust like the First and Highest Sphaere
Which wheels about, and turns all Heav'en one way.
With as much Zeal, Devotion, Pietie,
He always Liv'ed, as other Saints do Dye.
Still with his soul severe account he kept.
Weeping all Debts out ere he slept.
Then down in peace and innocence he lay,
Like the Suns laborious light,
Which still in Water sets at Night,
Unsullied with his Iourney of the Day.
Wondrous young Man, why wert thou made so good,
To be snatcht hence ere better understood?
Snatcht before half of thee enough was seen!
Thou Ripe, and yet thy Life but Green!
Nor could thy Friends take their last sad Farewell,
But Danger and Infectious Death
Malitiously seiz'd on that Breath
Where Life, Spirit, Pleasure always us'd to dwell.
But happy Thou, ta'ne from this frantick age,
Where Igno'rance and Hypocrisie does rage!
A fitter time for Heav'en no soul ere chose,
The place now onely free from those.
There 'mong the Blest thou dost for ever shine,
And wheresoere thou casts thy view
Upon that white and radiant crew,
See'st not a Soul cloath'd with more Light then Thine.
And if the glorious Saints cease not to know
Their wretched Friends who fight with Life below;
Thy Flame to Me does still the same abide,
Onely more pure and rarifie'd.
There whilst immortal Hymns thou dost reherse,
Thou dost with holy pity see
Our dull and earthly Poesie,
Where Grief and Mis'ery can be joyn'd with Verse.

ODE. In imitation of Horace his Ode. ‘Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rosâ Perfusus, &c.’ Lib. 1. Od. 5.

TO whom now Pyrrha, art thou kinde?
To what heart-ravisht Lover,
Dost thou thy golden locks unbinde,
Thy hidden sweets discover,
And with large bounty open set
All the bright stores of thy rich Cabinet?
Ah simple Youth, how oft will he
Of thy chang'ed Faith complain?
And his own Fortunes finde to be
So airy and so vain,
Of so Camaeleon- like an hew,
That still their colour changes with it too?
How oft, alas, will he admire
The blackness of the Skies?
Trembling to hear the Winds sound higher,
And see the billows rise;
Poor unexperienc'ed He
Who ne're, alas, before had been at Sea!
He'enjoys thy calmy Sun-shine now,
And no breath stirring hears,
In the clear heaven of thy brow,
No smallest Cloud appears.
He sees thee gentle, fair, and gay,
And trusts the faithless April of thy May.
Unhappy! thrice unhappy He,
T'whom Thou untry'ed dost shine!
But there's no danger now for Me,
Since o're Loretto's Shrine
In witness of the Shipwrack past
My consecrated Vessel hangs at last.

In imitation of Martials Epigram. ‘Si tecum mihi care Martialis, &c.’ L. 5. Ep. 21:

IF, dearest Friend, it my good Fate might bee
T' enjoy at once a quiet Life and Thee;
If we for Happiness could leisure finde,
And wandring Time into a Method binde,
We should not sure the Great Mens favour need,
Nor on long Hopes, the Courts thin Diet, feed.
We should not Patience find daily to hear,
The Calumnies, and Flatteries spoken there.
We should not the Lords Tables humbly use,
Or talk in Ladies Chambers Love and News.
But Books, and wise Discourse, Gardens and Fields,
And all the joys that unmixt Natures yields.
Thick Summer shades where Winter still does ly,
Bright Winter Fires that Summers part supply.
Sleep not controll'd by Cares, confin'ed to Night,
Or bound in any rule but Appetite.
Free, but not savage or ungracious Mirth,
Rich Wines to give it quick and easie birth.
A few Companions, which ourselves should chuse,
A Gentle Mistress, and a Gentler Muse.
Such, dearest Friend, such without doubt should be
Our Plac, our Business, and our Companie.
Now to Himself, alas, does neither Live,
But sees good Suns, of which we are to give
A strict account, set and march thick away;
Knows a man how to Live, and does he stay?

The Chronicle. A Ballad.

MArgarita first possest,
If I remember well, my brest,
Margarita first of all;
But when a while the wanton Maid
With my restless Heart had plaid,
Martha took the flying Ball.
Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Cartharine.
Beauteous Catharine gave place
(Though loath and angry she to part
With the possession of my Heart)
To Elisa's conqu'ering face.
Elisa till this Hour might raign
Had she not Evil Counsels ta'ne.
Fundamental Laws she broke,
And still new Favorites she chose,
Till up in Arms my Passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.
Mary then and gentle Ann
Both to reign at once began.
Alternately they sway'd,
And sometimes Mary was the Fair,
And sometimes Ann the Crown did wear,
And sometimes Both I' obey'd.
Another Mary then arose
And did rigorous Laws impose.
A mighty Tyrant she!
Long, alas, should I have been
Under that Iron-Scepter'd Queen,
Had not Rebecca set me free.
When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden Time with mee.
But soon those pleasures fled,
For the gracious Princess dy'd
In her Youth and Beauties pride,
And Iudith reigned in her sted.
One Month, three Days, and half an Hour
Iudith held the Soveraign Power.
Wondrous beautiful her Face,
But so weak and small her Wit,
That she to govern was unfit,
And so Susanna took her place.
But when Isabella came
Arm'd with a resistless flame
And th'Artillery of her Eye;
Whilst she proudly marcht about
Greater Conquests to finde out,
She beat out Susan by the By.
But in her place I then obey'd
Black-ey'd Besse, her Viceroy-Maid,
To whom ensu'd a Vacancy.
Thousand worse Passions then possest
The Interregnum of my brest.
Bless me from such an Anarchy!
Gentle Henriette than
And a third Mary next began,
Then Ione, and Iane, and Audria.
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Katharine,
And then a long Et caeera.
But should I now to you relate,
The strength and riches of their state,
The Powder, Patches, and the Pins,
The Ribbans, Iewels, and the Rings,
The Lace, the Paint, and warlike things
That make up all their Magazins:
If I should tell the politick Arts
To take and keep mens hearts,
The Letters, Embassies, and Spies,
The Frowns, and Smiles, and Flatteries,
The Quarrels, Tears, and Perjuries,
Numberless, Nameless Mysteries!
And all the Little Lime-twigs laid
By Matchavil the Waiting-Maid;
I more voluminous should grow
(Chiefly if I like them should tell
All Change of Weathers that befell)
Then Holinshead or Stow.
But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with Me.
An higher and a nobler strain
My present Emperess does claime,
Hele onora, First o'th' Name;
Whom God grant long to reign!

To Sir William Davenant. Upon his two first Books of Gondibert, finished before his voyage to America.

MEthinks Heroick Poesie till now
Like some fantastick Fairy Land did show,
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches and Gyants race,
And all but Man in Mans chief work had place.
Thou like some worthy Knight with sacred Arms
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms.
Instead of those dost Men and Manners plant,
The things which that rich Soil did chiefly want.
Yet ev'en thy Mortals do their Gods excell,
Taught by thy Muse to Fight and Love so well.
By fatal hands whilst present Empires fall,
Thine from the Grave past Monarchies recal.
So much more thanks from humane kind does merit
The Poets Fury, then the Zelots Spirit.
And from the Grave thou mak'est this Empire rise
Not like some dreadful Ghost t'affright our Eyes,
But with more Luster and triumphant state,
Then when it crown'd at proud Verona sate:
So will out God rebuild mans perisht frame,
And raise him up much Better, yet the same.
So God-like Poets do past things reherse,
Not change, but Heighten Nature by their Verse.
With shame, methinks, great Italy must see
Her Conqu'erors rais'ed to Life again by Thee.
Rais'd by such pow'erful Verse, that ancient Rome
May blush no less to see her Wit orecome.
Some men their Fancies like their Faith derive,
And think all Ill but that which Rome does give.
The Marks of Old and Catholick would finde,
To the same Chair would Truth and Fiction binde.
Thou in those beaten pathes disdainst to tread,
And scorn'st to Live by robbing of the Dead.
Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit
This latter Age should see all New but Wit.
Thy Fancy like a Flame its way does make,
And leave bright Tracks for following Pens to take.
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse
Did thy desire to seek new Worlds infuse,
And ne're did Heav'en so much a Voyage bless,
If thou canst Plant but there with like success.

An Answer to a Copy of Verses sent me to Iersey.

AS to a Northern People (whom the Sun
Uses just as the Romish Church has done
Her Prophane Laity, and does assigne
Bread onely both to serve for Bread and Wine)
A rich Canary Fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your Letter gives,
Fraught with brisk racy Verses, in which we
The Soil from whence they came, taste, smel, and see'
Such is your Present to' us; for you must know,
Sir, that Verse does not in this Island grow
No more then Sack; One lately did not feare
(Without the Muses leave) to plant it here.
But it produc'ed such base, rough, crabbed, hedge
Rhymes, as ev'en set the hearers Ears on Edge:
Written by—Esquire, the
Year of our Lord six hundred thirty three.
Brave Iersey Muse! and he's for this high stile
Call'd to this day the Homer of the Iste.
Alas, to men here no Words less hard be
To Rhime with, then
The name of one of the Castles in Iersey.
Mount Orgueil is to me.
Mount Orgueil, which in scorn o'th' Muses law
With no yoke-fellow Word will dain to draw.
Stubborn Mount Orgueil! 'tis a work to make it
Come into Rhyme, more hard then 'twere to take it.
Alas, to bring your Tropes and Figures here,
Strange as to bring Camels and Ele'phants were.
And Metaphore is so unknown a thing,
'Twould need the Preface of, God save the King.
Yet this I'll say for th' honor of the place,
That by Gods extraordinary Grace
(Which shows the people' have judgement, if not Wit)
The land is undefil'ed with Clinches yet.
Which in my poor opinion, I confess,
Is a most sing'ular blessing, and no less
Then Irelands wanting Spiders. And so farre
From th' Actual Sin of Bombast too they are,
(That other Crying Sin o'th' English Muse
That even Satan himself can accuse
None here (no not so much as the Divines)
For th' Motus primò primi to Strong Lines.
Well, since the soil then does not natu'rally beare
Verse, who (a Devil) should import it here?
For that to me would seem as strange a thing
As who did first Wilde Beasts into Islands bring.
Unless you think that it might taken be
As Green did Gond'ibert, in a Prize at Sea.
But that's a Fortune falls not every day;
'Tis true Green was made by it; for they say
The Parl'ament did a noble bounty do,
And gave him the whole Prize, their Tenths and Fifteens too.

The Tree of Knowledge. That there is no Knowledge. Against the Dogmatists.

THe sacred Tree midst the fair Orchard grew;
The Phoenix Truth did on it rest,
And built his perfum'ed Nest.
That right Porphyrian Tree which did true Logick shew,
Each Leaf did learned Notions give,
And th' Apples were Demonstrative.
So clear rheir Colour and divine,
The very shade they cast did other Lights out-shine.
Taste not, said God; 'tis mine and Angels meat;
A certain Death does sit
Like an ill Worm i'th' Core of it.
Ye cannot Know and Live, nor Live or Know and Eat.
Thus spoke God, yet Man did go
Ignorantly on to Know;
Grew so more blinde, and she
Who tempted him to this, grew yet more Blinde then He.
The onely Science Man by this did get,
Was but to know he nothing Knew.
He straight his Nakedness did view,
His ign'orant poor estate, and was asham'ed of it.
Yet searches Probabilities,
And Rhetorick, and Fallacies,
And seeks by useless pride
With slight and withering Leaves that Nakedness to hide
Henceforth, said God, the wretched Sons of earth
Shall sweat for Food in vain
That will not long sustain,
And bring with Labor forth each fond Abortive Birth.
That Serpent too, their Pride,
Which aims at things deny'd,
That learn'd and eloquent Lust
Instead of Mounting high, shall creep upon the Dust.

Reason. The use of it in Divine Matters.

SOme blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
Be led by others a right way;
They build on Sands, which if unmov'ed they find,
'Tis but because there was no Wind.
Less hard 'tis, not to Erre ourselves, then know
If our Fore fathers err'd or no.
When we trust Men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning Men.
Visions and Inspirations some expect
Their course here to direct,
Like senseless Chymists their own wealth destroy,
Imaginary Gold t'enjoy.
So Stars appear to drop to us from skie,
And gild the passage as they fly.
But when they fall, and meet th'opposing ground,
What but a sordid Slime is found?
Sometimes their Fancies they 'bove Reason set,
And Fast, that they may Dream of Meat.
Sometimes ill Spirits their sickly souls delude,
And Bastard-Forms obtrude.
So Endors wretched Sorceress, although
She Saul through his disguise did know,
Yet when the Dev'il comes up disguis'd, she cries,
Behold, the Gods arise.
In vain, alas, these outward Hopes are try'd;
Reason within's our onely Guide.
Reason, which (God be prais'd!) still Walks, for all
It's old Original Fall.
And since itself the boundless Godhead joyn'd
With a Reasonable Mind,
it plainly shows that Mysteries Divine
May with our Reason joyn.
The Holy Book, like the eighth Sphaere, does shine
With thousand Lights of Truth Divine.
So numberless the Stars, that to the Eye,
It makes but all one Galaxie.
Yet Reason must assist too, for in Seas
So vast and dangerous as these,
Our course by Stars above we cannot know,
Without the Compass too below.
Though Reason cannot through Faiths Myst'eries see,
It sees that There and such they bee;
Leads to Heav'ens Door, and there does humbly keep,
And there through Chinks and Key-holes peep.
Though it, like Moses, by a sad command
Must not come in to th' Holy Land,
Yet thither it infallibly does Guid,
And from afar 'tis all Discry'ed.

On the Death of Mr. Crashaw.

POet and Saint! to thee alone are given
The two most sacred Names of Earth and Heaven.
The hard and rarest Union which can be
Next that of Godhead with Humanitie.
Long did the Muses banisht Slaves abide,
And built vain Pyramids to mortal pride,
Like Moses Thou (though Spells and Charms withstand)
Hast brought them nobly home back to their Holy Land.
Ah wretched We, Poets of Earth! but Thou
Wert Living the same Poet which thou'rt Now.
Whilst Angels sing to thee their ayres divine,
And joy in an applause so great as thine.
Equal society with them to hold,
Thou need'st not make new Songs, but say the Old.
And they (kind Spirits!) shall all rejoyce to see
How little less then They, Exalted Man may bee.
Still the old Heathen Gods in Numbers dwell,
The Heav'enliest thing on Earth still keeps up Hell.
Nor have we yet quite purg'ed the Christian Land;
Still Idols here like Calves at Bethel stand.
And though Pans Death long since all Oracles breaks,
Yet still in Rhyme the Fiend Apollo speaks.
Nay with the worst of Heathen dotage We
(Vain Men!) the Monster Woman Deifie.
Finde Stars, and tye our Fates there in a Face,
And Paradice in them by whom we lost it, place.
What different faults corrupt our Muses thus?
Wanton as Girls, as old Wives, Fabulous!
Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did contain
The boundless Godhead; she did well disdain
That her eternal Verse employ'd should be
On a less subject then Eternitie.
And for a sacred Mistress scorn'd to take,
But her whom God himself scorn'd not his Spouse to make.
It (in a kind) her Miracle did do;
A fruitful Mother was, and Virgin too.
M. Cra­shaw died of a Fea­ver at Loretto, being newly chosen Canon of that Church.
How well (blest Swan) did Fate contrive thy death;
And made thee render up thy tuneful breath
In thy great Mistress Arms? thou most divine
And richest Off'ering of Loretto's Shrine!
Where like some holy Sacrifice t'expire,
A Fever burns thee, and Love lights the Fire.
Angels (they say) brought the fam'ed Chapel there,
And bore the sacred Load in Triumph through the aire.
'Tis surer much they brought thee there, and They,
And Thou, their charge, went singing all the way.
Pardon, my Mother Church, if I consent
That Angels led him when from thee he went,
For even in Error sure no Danger is
When joyn'd with so much Piety as His.
Ah, mighty God, with shame I speak't, and grief,
Ah that our greatest Faults were in Belief!
And our weak Reason were ev'en weaker yet,
Rather then thus our Wills too strong for it.
His Faith perhaps in some nice Tenents might
Be wrong; his Life, I'm sure, was in the right.
And I my self a Catholick will be,
So far at least, great Saint, to Pray to thee.
Hail, Bard Triumphant! and some care bestow
On us, the Poets Militant below!
Oppos'ed by our old En'emy, adverse Chance,
Attacqu'ed by Envy, and by Ignorance,
Enchain'd by Beauty, tortur'ed by Desires,
Expos'd by Tyrant-Love to savage Beasts and Fires.
Thou from low earth in nobler Flames didst rise,
And like Elijah, mount Alive the skies.
Elisha-like (but with a wish much less,
More fit thy Greatness, and my Littleness)
Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove
So humble to Esteem, so Good to Love)
Not that thy Spirit might on me Doubled be,
I ask but Half thy mighty Spirit for Me.
And when my Muse soars with so strong a Wing,
'Twill learn of things Divine, and first of Thee to sing.

Anacreontiques: OR, Some Copies of Verses Translated Paraphrastically out of Anacreon.

I. Love.

I'll sing of Heroes, and of Kings;
In mighty Numbers, mighty things,
Begin, my Muse; but lo, the strings
To my great Song rebellious prove;
The strings will sound of nought but Love.
I broke them all, and put on new;
'Tis this or nothing sure will do.
These sure (said I) will me obey;
These sure Heroick Notes will play.
Straight I began with thundring Iove,
And all the' immortal Pow'ers but Love.
Love smil'ed, and from my'enfeebled Lyre
Came gentle airs, such as inspire
Melting love, and soft desire.
Farewel then Heroes, farewel Kings,
And mighty Numbers, mighty Things;
Love tunes my Heart just to my strings.

II. Drinking.

THe thirsty Earth soaks up the Rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again.
The Plants suck in the Earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and faire.
The Sea it self, which one would think
Should have but little need of Drink,
Drinks ten thousand Rivers up,
So fill'd that they oreflow the Cup.
The busie Sun (and one would guess
By's drunken firy face no less)
Drinks up the Sea, and when'has don,
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun.
They drink and dance by their own light,
They drink and revel all the night.
Nothing in Nature's Sober found,
But an eternal Health goes round.
Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high,
Fill all the Glasses there, for why
Should every creature drink but I,
Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?

III. Beauty.

Liberal Nature did dispence
To all things Arms for their defence;
And some she arms with sin'ewy force,
And some with swiftness in the course;
Some with hard Hoofs, or forked claws,
And some with Horns, or tusked jaws.
And some with Scales, and some with Wings,
And some with Teeth, and some with Stings.
Wisdom to Man she did afford,
Wisdom for Shield, and Wit for Sword.
What to beauteous Woman-kind,
What Arms, what Armour has she'assigne'd?
Beauty is both; for with the Faire
What Arms, what Armour can compare?
What Steel, what Gold, or Diamond,
More Impassible is found?
And yet what Flame, what Lightning ere
So great an Active force did bear?
They are all weapon, and they dart
Like Porcupines from every part.
Who can, alas, their strength express,
Arm'd, when they themselves undress,
Cap a pe with Nakedness?

IV. The Duel.

YEs, I will love then, I will love,
I will not now Loves Rebel prove,
Though I was once his Enemy;
Though ill-advis'd and stubborn I,
Did to the Combate him defy,
An Helmet, Spear, and mighty shield,
Like some new Ajax I did wield.
Love in one hand his Bow did take,
In th'other hand a Dart did shake.
But yet in vain the Dart did throw,
In vain he often drew the Bow.
So well my Armour did resist,
So oft by flight the blow I mist.
But when I thought all danger past,
His Quiver empti'd quite at last,
Instead of Arrow, or of Dart,
He shot Himself into my Heart.
The Living and the Killing Arrow
Ran through the skin, the Flesh, the Blood,
And broke the Bones, and scortcht the Marrow,
No Trench or Work of Life withstood.
In vain I now the Walls maintain,
I set out Guards and Scouts in vain,
Since th' En'emy does within remain.
In vain a Breastplate now I wear,
Since in my Breast the Foe I bear.
In vain my Feet their swiftness try;
For from the Body can they fly?

V. Age.

OFt am I by the Women told,
Poor Anacreon thou grow'st old.
Look how thy Hairs are falling all;
Poor Anacreon how they fall?
Whether I grow old or no,
By th'effects I do not know.
This I know without being told,
'Tis Time to Live if I grow Old,
'Tis time short pleasures now to take,
Of little Life the best to make,
And manage wisely the last stake.

VI. The Account.

WHen all the Stars are by thee told,
(The endless Sums of heav'enly Gold)
Or when the Hairs are reckon'ed all,
From sickly Autumns Head that fall,
Or when the drops that make the Sea,
Whilst all her Sands thy Counters bee.
Thou then, and Thou alone maist prove
Th' Arithmeticean of my Love.
An hundred Loves at Athens score,
At Corinth write an hundred more.
Fair Corinth does such Beauties beare,
So few is an Escaping there.
Write then at Chios seventy three;
Write then at Lesbo's (let me see)
Write mee at Lesbos ninety down,
Full ninety Loves, and half a One.
And next to these let me present,
The faire Ionian Regiment.
And next the Carian Company,
Five hundred both Effectively.
Three hundred more at Rhodes and Crete;
Three hundred 'tis I'am sure Complete.
For arms at Crete each Face does bear,
And every Eye's and Archer there.
Go on; this stop why dost thou make?
Thou thinkst, perhaps, that I mistake.
Seems this to thee too great a Summe?
Why many a Thousand are to come;
The mighty Xerxes could not boast
Such different Nations in his Host.
On; for my Love, if thou be'st weary,
Must finde some better Secretary.
I have not yet my Persian told.
Nor yet my Syrian Loves enroll'd,
Nor Indian, nor Arabian;
Nor Cyprian Loves, nor African;
Nor Scythian, nor Italian flames;
There's a whole Map behinde of Names.
Of gentle Love i'th' temperate Zone,
And cold ones in the Frigid One,
Cold frozen Loves with which I' pine,
And parched Loves beneath the Line.

VII. Gold.

A Mighty pain to Love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss.
But of all pains the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.
Virtue now nor noble Blood,
Nor Wit by Love is understood,
Gold alone does passion move,
Gold Monopolizes love!
A curse on her, and on the Man,
Who this traffick first began!
A curse on him who found the Oare!
A curse on him who digg'ed the store!
A curse on him who did refine it!
A curse on him who first did coyn it!
A curse all curses else above
On him, who us'd it first in Love!
Gold begets in Brethren hate,
Gold in Families debate;
Gold does Friendships separate,
Gold does Civil wars create.
These the smallest harms of it!
Gold, alas, does Love beget.

VIII. The Epicure.

FIll the Bowl with rosie Wine,
Around our temples Roses twine,
And let us chearfully awhile;
Like the Wine and Roses smile.
Crown'd with Roses we contemn
Gyge's wealthy Diadem.
To day is Ours; what do we feare?
To day is Ours; we have it here.
Let's treat it kindely, that it may
Wish, at least, with us to stay.
Let's banish Business, banish Sorrow;
To the Gods belongs To morrow.

IX. Another.

UNderneath this Myrtle shade,
On flowry beds supinely laid,
With od'orous Oyls my head ore-flowing,
And around it Roses growing,
What should I do but drink away
The Heat, and troubles of the Day?
In this more then Kingly state,
Love himself shall on me waite.
Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up;
And mingled cast into the Cup,
Wit, and Mirth, and noble Fires,
Vigorous Health, and gay Desires.
The Wheel of Life no less will stay
In a smooth then Rugged way.
Since it equally does flee,
Let the Motion pleasant bee.
Why do we pretious Oyntments shower,
Nobler wines why do we pour,
Beauteous Flowers why do we spread,
Upon the Mon'uments of the Dead?
Nothing they but Dust can show,
Or Bones that hasten to be so.
Crown me with Roses whilst I Live,
Now your Wines and Oyntments give.
After Death I nothing crave,
Let me Alive my pleasures have,
All are Stoicks in the Grave.

X. The Grashopper.

HAppy Insect, what can bee
In happiness compar'ed to Thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy Mornings gentle Wine!
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant Cup does fill,
'Tis fill'd where ever thou dost tread,
Nature selfe's thy Ganimed.
Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing;
Happier then the happiest King!
All the Fields which thon dost see,
All the Plants belong to Thee,
All that Summer Hours produce,
Fertile made with early juice.
Man for thee does sow and plow;
Farmer He, and Land-Lord Thou!
Thou doest innocently joy,
Nor does thy Luxury destroy;
The Shepherd gladly heareth thee,
More Harmonious then Hee.
Thee Countrey Hindes with gladness hear,
Prophet of the ripened year!
Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire;
Phoebus is himself thy Sire.
To thee of all things upon earth,
Life is no longer then thy Mirth.
Happy Insect, happy Thou,
Dost neither Age, nor Winter know.
But when thou'st drunk, and danc'ed, and sung,
Thy fill, the flowry Leaves among.
(Voluptuous, and Wise with all,
Epicuraean Animal!)
Sated with thy Summer Feast,
Thou retir'est to endless Rest.

XI. The Swallow.

FOolish Prater, what do'st thou
So early at my window do
With thy tuneless Serenade?
Well t'had been had Tereus made
Thee as Dumb as Philomel;
There his Knife had done but well.
In thy undiscover'ed Nest
Thou dost all the winter rest,
And dream'est ore thy summer joys
Free from the stormy seasons noise:
Free from th'Ill thou'st done to me;
Who disturbs, or seeks out Thee?
Had'st thou all the charming notes
Of all the woods Poetick Throats,
All thy art could never pay
What thou'st ta'ne from me away;
Cruel Bird, thou'st ta'ne away
A Dream out of my arms to day,
A Dream that ne're must equal'd bee
By all that waking Eyes may see.
Thou this damage to repaire,
Nothing half so sweet or faire,
Nothing half so good can'st bring,
Though men say, Thou bring'st the Spring.


HOw shall I lament thine end,
My best Servant, and my Friend?
Nay and, if from a Deity
So much Deifi'ed as I,
It sound not too profane and odd,
Oh my Master, and my God!
For 'tis true, most mighty Poet,
(Though I like not Men should know it)
I'am in naked Nature less,
Less by much then in thy Dress.
All thy Verse is softer farre
Then the downy Feathers are,
Of my Wings, or of my Arrows,
Of my Mothers Doves or Sparrows.
Sweet as Lovers freshest kisses,
Or their riper following blisses,
Graceful, cleanly, smooth and round,
All with Venus Girdle bound,
And thy Life was all the while
Kinde and gentle as thy Stile.
The smooth-pac'ed Hours of ev'ery day
Glided numerously away.
Like thy Verse each Hour did pass,
Sweet and short, like that it was.
Some do but their Youth allow me,
Iust what they by Nature owe me,
The Time that's mine, and not their own,
The certain Tribute of my Crown,
When they grow old, they grow to be
Too Busie, or too wise for me.
Thou wert wiser, and did'st know
None too wise for Love can grow,
Love was with thy Life entwin'd
Close as Heat with Fire is joyn'd,
A powerful Brand prescrib'ed the date
Of thine, like Meleagers Fate.
Th' Antiperistasis of Age
More enflam'ed thy amorous rage,
Thy silver Hairs yielded me more
Then even golden curls before.
Had I the power of Creation,
As I have of Generation,
Where I the matter must obey,
And cannot work Plate out of Clay,
My Creatures should be all like Thee,
'Tis Thou shouldst their Idaea bee.
They, like Thee, should throughly hate
Bus'iness, Honor, Title, State.
Other wealth they should not know
But what my Living Mines bestow;
The pomp of Kings they should confess
At their Crownings to be less
Then a Lovers humblest guise,
When at his Mistress feet he lies.
Rumour they no more should mind
Then Men safe-landed do the Wind,
Wisdom it self they should not hear
When it presumes to be Severe.
Beauty alone they should admire,
Nor look at Fortunes vain attire,
Nor ask what Parents it can shew;
With Dead or Old t'has nought to do.
They should not love yet All, or Any,
But very Much, and very Many.
All their Life should gilded be
With Mirth, and Wit, and Gayetie,
Well remembring, and Applying
The Necessity of Dying.
Their chearful[?] Heads should always wear
All that crowns the flowry year.
They should always laugh, and sing,
And dance, and strike the harmonious string.
Verse should from their Tongue so flow,
As if it in the Mouth did grow,
As swiftly answering their command,
As tunes obey the artful Hand.
And whilst I do thus discover
Th'ingredients of an happy Lover,
'Tis, my Anacreon, for thy sake
I of the Grape no mention make.
Till my' Anacreon by thee fell,
Cursed Plant, I lov'ed thee well.
And 'twas oft my wanton use
To dip my Arrows in thy juice.
Cursed Plant, 'tis true I see,
Th'old report that goes of Thee,
That with Gyants blood the Earth
Stain'd and poys'ned gave thee birth,
And now thou wreak'st thy ancient spight
On Men in whom the Gods delight.
Thy Patron Bacchus 'tis no wonder
Was brought forth in Flames and Thunder,
In rage, in quarrels, and in fights,
Worse then his Tygers he delights,
In all our heaven I think there be
No such ill-natur'ed God as He.
Thou pretendest, Trayt'erous Wine,
To be the Muses friend and Mine.
With Love and Wit thou dost begin,
False Fires, alas, to draw us in.
Which, if our course we by them keep,
Misguide to Madness, or to Sleep.
Sleep were well; thou'hast learnt a way
To Death it self now to betray.
It grieves me when I see what Fate
Does on the best of Mankind waite.
Poets or Lovers let them be,
'Tis neither Love nor Poesie
Can arm against Deaths smallest dart
The Poets Head, or Lovers Heart.
But when their Life in its decline,
Touches th'Inevitable Line,
All the Worlds Mortal to'um then,
And Wine is Aconite to men.
Nay in Deaths Hand the Grape-stone proves
As strong as Thunder is in Ioves.


Written by A. COWLEY.

VIRG, Aen. 4.
—Haeret lateri lethalis arundo.

LONDON: Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Princes Arms in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1656.


The Request.

I Have often wisht to love; what shall I do?
Me still the cruel Boy does spare;
And I a double task must bear,
First to woo him, and then a Mistress too.
Come at last and strike for shame;
If thou art any thing besides a name.
Ile think Thee else no God to be;
But Poets rather Gods, who first created Thee.
I ask not one in whom all beauties grow,
Let me but love, what ere she be,
Shee cannot seem deform'd to me;
And I would have her seem to others so.
Desire takes wings and strait does fly,
It stays not dully to inquire the Why.
That Happy thing a Lover grown,
I shall not see with others Eyes, scarce with mine own.
If she be coy and scorn my noble fire,
If her chill heart I cannot move,
Why I'le enjoy the very Love,
And make a Mistress of mine own Desire.
Flames their most vigorous heat do hold,
And purest light, if compast round with cold:
So when sharp Winter means most harm,
The springing Plants are by the Snow it self kept warm.
But do not touch my heart, and so be gon;
Strike deep thy burning arrows in:
Lukewarmness I account a sin,
As great in Love, as in Religion.
Come arm'd with flames, for I would prove
All the extremities of mighty Love.
Th excess of heat is but a fable;
We know the torrid Zone is now found habitable.
Among the Woods and Forrests thou art found,
There Bores and Lyons thou dost tame;
Is not my heart a nobler game?
Let Venus, Men; and Beasts, Diana wound.
Thou dost the Birds thy Subjects make;
Thy nimble feathers do their wings o'retake:
Thou all the Spring their Songs dost hear,
Make me Love too, I'll sing to 'thee all the year.
What service can mute Fishes do to Thee?
Yet against them thy Dart prevails,
Piercing the armour of their Scales;
And still thy Sea-born Mother lives i'th' Sea.
Dost thou deny onely to mee
The no-great priviledge of Captivitie?
I beg or challenge here thy Bow;
Either thy pitty to me, or else thine anger show.
Come; or I'll teach the world to scorn that Bow:
I'll teach them thousand wholesome arts
Both to resist and cure thy darts,
More then thy skilful Ovid ere did know.
Musick of sighs thou shalt not hear,
Nor drink one wretched Lovers tasteful Tear:
Nay, unless soon thou woundest me,
My Verses shall not onely wound, but murther Thee.

The Thraldome.

I Came, I Saw, and was undon;
Lightning did through my bones and marrow run;
A pointed pain pierc'd deep my heart;
A swift, cold trembling seiz'd on every part;
My head turn'd round, nor could it beare
The Poyson that was enter'd there.
So a destroying Angels breath
Blows in the Plague, and with it hasty Death.
Such was the pain, did so begin
To the poor wretch, when Legion entred in.
Forgive me, God, I cry'd; for I
Flatter'd my self I was to dye.
But quickly to my Cost I found,
'Twas cruel Love, not Death had made the wound.
Death a more generous rage does use;
Quarter to all he conquers does refuse.
Whilst Love with barbarous mercy saves
The vanquisht lives to make them slaves.
I am thy slave then; let me know,
Hard Master, the great task I have to do:
Who pride and scorn do undergo,
In tempests and rough Seas thy Galleys row;
They pant, and groan, and sigh, but find
Their sighs encrease the angry wind.
Like an Egyptian Tyrant, some
Thou weariest out, in building but a Tombe.
Others with sad, and tedious art
Labour i'the' Quarries of a stony Heart;
Of all the works thou dost assigne
To all the several slaves of thine,
Employ me, mighty Love, to dig the Mine.

The Given Love.

I'LL on; for what should hinder mee
From Loving, and Enjoying Thee?
Thou canst not those exceptions make,
Which thin-sould, under-mortals take;
That my Fate's too mean and low;
'Twere pity I should love thee so,
If that dull cause could hinder mee
In Loving, and Enjoying thee.
It does not me a whit displease,
That the rich all honours seize;
That you all Titles make your owne,
Are Valiant, Learned, Wise alone.
But if you claim o're Women too
The power which over Men ye do;
If you alone must Lovers be;
For that, Sirs, you must pardon me.
Rather then lose what does so neare
Concern my Life, and Being here,
I'll some such crooked ways invent,
As you, or your Fore-fathers went:
I'll flatter or oppose the King,
Turn Puritan, or Any Thing;
I'll force my Mind to arts so new:
Grow Rich, and Love as well as You.
But rather thus let me remain,
As Man in Paradise did reign;
When perfect Love did so agree
With Innocence and Povertie.
Adam did no Ioynture give,
Himself was Ioynture to his Eve:
Untoucht with Av'arice yet or Pride,
The Rib came freely back to 'his side.
A curse upon the man who taught
Women, that Love was to be bought;
Rather dote onely on your Gold;
And that with greedy av'arice hold;
For if Woman too submit
To that, and sell her self for it,
Fond Lover, you a Mistress have
Of her, that's but your Fellow-slave.
What should those Poets mean of old
That made their God to woo in Gold?
Of all men sure They had no cause
To bind Love to such costly Lawes;
And yet I scarcely blame them now;
For who, alas, would not allow,
That Women should such gifts receive,
Could They, as He, Be what They give.
If thou, my Dear, Thy self shouldst prize,
Alas, what value would suffize?
The Spaniard could not do't, though he
Should to both Indies joynture thee.
Thy beauties therefore wrong will take,
If thou shouldst any bargain make;
To give All will befit thee well;
But not at Under-Rates to sell.
Bestow thy Beauty then on me,
Freely, as Nature gave't to Thee;
'Tis an exploded Popish thought
To think that Heaven may be bought.
Frayrs, Hymns; and Praises are the way;
And those my thankful Muse shall pay;
Thy Body in my verse enshrin'd,
Shall grow immortal as thy Mind.
I'll fix thy title next in fame
To Sacharissas well-sung name.
So faithfully will I declare.
What all thy wondrous beauties are,
That when at the last great Assise,
All Women shall together rise,
Men strait shall cast their eyes on Thee
And know at first that Thou art Shee.

The Spring.

THough you be absent here, I needs must say
The Trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay,
As ever they were wont to be▪
Nay the Birds rural musick too
Is as Melodious and free,
As if they sung to pleasure you:
I saw a Rose-Bud o'pe this morn; I'll swear
The blushing Morning open'd not more fair.
How could it be so fair, and you away?
How could the Trees be beauteous, Flowers sogay?
Could they remember but last year,
How you did Them, They you delight,
The sprouting leaves which saw you here,
And call'd their Fellows to the sight,
Would, looking round for the same sight in vain,
Creep back into their silent Barks again.
Where ere you walk'd, trees were as reverend made,
As when of old Gods dwelt in every shade.
Is't possible they should not know,
What loss of honor they sustain,
That thus they smile and flourish now,
And still their former pride retain?
Dull Creatures! 'tis not without Cause that she,
Who fled the God of wit, was made a Tree.
In ancient times sure they much wiser were,
When they rejoyc'd the Thracian verse to heare;
In vain did Nature bid them stay,
When Orpheus had his song begun,
They call'd their wondring roots away,
And bad them silent to him run.
How would those learned trees have followed you?
You would have drawn Them, and their Poet too.
But who can tame them now? for, since you're gone,
They're here the onely Fair, and Shine alone.
You did their Natural Rights invade;
Where ever you did walk or sit,
The thickest Bows could make no shade,
Although the Sun had granted it:
The fairest Flowers could please no more, neer you,
Then Painted Flowers, set next to them, could do.
When e're then you come hither, that shall bee
The time, which this to others is, to Mee.
The little joys which here are now
The name of Punishments do beare;
When by their sight they let us Know
How we depriv'd of greater are.
'Tis you the best of Seasons with you bring;
This is for Beasts, and that for Men the Spring.

Written in Iuice of Lemmon.

WHilst what I write I do not see,
I dare thus, even to you, write Poetrie.
Ah foolish Muse, which do'st so high aspire,
And know'st her judgement well
How much it does thy power excell,
Yet dar'st be read by, thy just doom, the Fire.
Alas, thou think'st thy self secure,
Because thy form is Innocent and Pure:
Like Hypocrites, which seem unspotted here;
But when they sadly come to dy,
And the last Fire their Truth must try,
Scrauld o're like thee, and blotted they appeare.
Go then, but reverently go,
And, since thou needs must sin, confess it too:
Confes't, and with humility cloth thy shame;
For thou, who else must burned bee
An Heretick, if she pardon thee,
May'st like a Martyr then enjoy the Flame.
But if her wisdom grow severe,
And suffer not her goodness to be there;
If her large mercies cruelly it restrain;
Be not discourag'd, but require
A more gentle Ordeal Fire,
And bid her by Loves-Flames read it again.
Strange power of heat, thou yet dost show
Like winter earth, naked, or cloath'd with snow,
But, as the quickning Sun approaching near,
The Plants arise up by degrees,
A sudden paint adorns the trees,
And all kind Natures Characters appear.
So, nothing yet in Thee is seene,
But soon as Genial heat warms thee within,
A new born Wood of various Lines there grows;
Here buds an A, and there a B,
Here sprouts a V, and there a T,
And all the flourishing Letters stand in Rows.
Still, seely Paper, thou wilt think
That all this might as well be writ with Ink.
Oh no; there's sense in this, and Mysterie;
Thou now maist change thy Authors name,
And to her Hand lay noble claim;
For as She Reads, she Makes the words in Thee.
Yet if thine own unworthiness
Will still, that thou art mine, not Hers, confess;
Consume thy self with Fire before her Eyes,
And so her Grace or Pitty move;
The Gods, though Beasts they do not Love,
Yet like them when they'r burnt In Sacrifice.


FIve years ago (says Story) I lov'd you,
For which you call me most Inconstant now;
Pardon me, Madam, you mistake the Man;
For I am not the same, that I was than;
No Flesh is now the same 'twas then in Mee;
And that my Mind is chang'd your self may see.
The same Thoughts to retain still, and Intents
Were more inconstant far; for Accidents
Must of all things most strangely 'Inconstant prove,
If from one Subject they t'another move;
My Members then, the Father Members were
From whence These take their birth, which now are here.
If then this Body love what th'other did,
'Twere Incest; which by Nature is forbid.
You might as well this Day inconstant name,
Because the Weather is not still the same,
That it was yesterday: or blame the Year,
Cause the Spring, Flowers; and Autumn, Fruit does bear.
The World's a Scene of Changes, and to be
Constant, in Nature were Inconstancie;
For 'twere to break the Laws her self has made:
Our Substances themselves do fleet, and fade;
The most fixt Being still doth move and fly,
Swift as the wings of Time 'tis measur'd by.
T'imagine then that Love should never cease
(Love which is but the Ornament of these)
Were quite as senseless, as to wonder why
Beauty and Colour stays not when we dy.

Not Fair.

'TIs very true, I thought you once as faire,
As women in th' Idea are.
Whatever here seems beauteous, seem'd to bee
But a faint Metaphor of Thee.
But then (methoughts) there something shin'd within,
Which cast this Lustre o're thy skin.
Nor could I choose but count it the Suns Light,
Which made this Cloud appear so bright.
But since I knew thy falshood and thy pride,
And all thy thousand faults beside;
A very Moor (methinks) plac'd near to Thee,
White, as his Teeth, would seem to bee.
So men (they say) by hells delusions led,
Have ta'ne a Succu bus to their bed;
Believe it fair, and themselves happy call,
Till the cleft Foot discovers all:
Then they start from't, half Ghosts themselves with fear;
And Devil, as 'tis, it does appear.
So since against my will I found Thee foul,
Deform'd and crooked in thy Soul,
My Reason strait did to my Senses shew,
That they might be mistaken too:
Nay when the world but knows how false you are,
There's not a man will think you faire.
Thy shape will monstrous in their fancies bee,
They'l call their Eyes as false as Thee.
Be what thou wilt; Hate will present thee so,
As Puritans do the Pope, and Papists Luther do.

Platonick Love.

INdeed I must confess,
When Souls mix, 'tis an Happiness;
But not compleat till Bodies too do joyne,
And both our Wholes into one Whole combine;
But half of Heaven the Souls in glory tast,
'Till by Love in Heaven at last,
Their Bodies too are plac't.
In thy immortal part
Man, as well as I, thou art.
But something 'tis that differs Thee and Me;
And we must one even in that difference be.
I Thee, both as a man, and woman prize;
For a perfect Love implies
Love in all Capacities.
Can that for true love pass,
When a fair woman courts her glass?
Something unlike must in Loves likeness be,
His wonder is, one, and Varietie.
For he, whose soul nought but a Soul can move,
Does a new Narcissus prove,
And his own Image love.
That souls do beauty know,
'Tis to the Bodies help they ow;
If when they know't, they strait abuse that trust,
And shut the Body from't, 'tis as injust,
As if I brought my dearest Friend to see
My Mistris, and at th' instant Hee
Should steal her quite from Mee.

The Change.

Love in her Sunny Eyes does basking play;
Love walkes the pleasant Mazes of her Haire;
Love does on both her Lips for ever stray;
And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there.
In all her outward parts Lov's always seen;
But, oh, He never went within.
Within Loves foes, his greatest foes abide
Malice, Inconstancy and Pride.
So the Earths face, Trees, Herbs and Flowers do dress,
With other beauties numberless:
But at the Center, Darkness is, and Hell;
There wicked Spirits, and there the Damned dwell.
With Me alas, quite contrary it fares;
Darkness and Death lies in my weeping eyes,
Despair, and Paleness in my face appeares,
And Grief, and Fear, Loves greatest enemies;
But, like the Persian-Tyrant, Love within
Keeps his proud Court, and ne're is seen.
Oh take my Heart, and by that means you'll prove
Within, too stor'd enough of Love:
Give me but Yours, I'll by that change so thrive,
That Love in all my parts shall live.
So powerful is this change, it render can,
My outside Woman, and your inside Man.

Clad all in White▪

FAirest thing that shines below,
Why in this robe dost thou appear?
Wouldst thou a white most perfect show,
Thou must at all no garment wear:
Thou wilt seem much whiter so,
Then Winter when 'tis clad with snow.
'Tis not the Linnen shews so fair:
Her skin shines through, and makes it bright;
So clouds themselves like Suns appear,
When the Sun pierces them with Light:
So Lillies in a glass enclose,
The Glass will seem as white as those.
Thou now one heap of beauty art;
Nought outwards, or within is foul:
Condensed beams make every part;
Thy Body's Cloathed like thy Soul.
Thy soul, which does it self display,
Like a star plac'd i'th Milky way.
Such robes the Saints departed weare,
Wooven all with Light divine;
Such their exalted Bodies are,
And with such full glory shine.
But they regard not mortals pain;
Men pray, I fear, to both in vain.
Yet seeing thee so gently pure,
My hopes will needs continue still;
Thou wouldst not take this garment sure,
When thou hadst and intent to kill.
Of Peace and yielding who would doubt,
When the white Flag he sees hung out?

Leaving Me, and then loving Many▪

So Men, who once have cast the Truth away,
Forsook by God, do strange wild lusts obay;
So the vain Gentiles, when they left t'adore
One Deity, could not stop at thousands more.
Their zeal was senseless strait, and boundless grown;
They worshipt many a Beast, and many a Stone.
Ah fair Apostate! couldst thou think to flee
From Truth and Goodness, yet keep Unitie?
I reign'd alone; and my blest Self could call
The Universal Monarch of her All▪
Mine, mine her fair East-Indies were above,
Where those Suns rise that chear the world of Love;
Where beauties shine like gems of richest price;
Where Coral grows, and every breath is spice:
Mine too her rich West-Indies were below,
Where Mines of gold and endless treasures grow.
But, as, when the Pellaean Conqueror dy'd,
Many small Princes did his Crown divide,
So, since my Love his vanquisht world forsook,
Murther'd by poysons from her falshood took,
An hundred petty Kings claim each their part,
And rend that glorious Empire of her Heart.

My Heart discovered▪

HEr body is so gently bright,
Clear, and transparent to the sight,
(Clear as sair Cristal to the view,
Yet soft as that, ere Stone it grew,)
That through her flesh, methinks, is seen
The brighter Soul that dwells within:
Our eyes the subtile covering pass,
And see that Lilie through it's Glass.
I through her Breast her Heart espy,
As Souls in hearts do Souls descry,
I see't with gentle Motions beat;
I see Light in't, but find no Heat.
Within, like Angels in the sky,
A thousand guilded thoughts do fly:
Thoughts of bright and noblest kind,
Fair and chaste, as Mother-Mind.
But, oh, what other Heart is there,
Which sighs and crouds to hers so neere?
'Tis all on flame, and does like fire,
To that, as to it's Heaven, aspire,
The wounds are many in't and deep;
Still does it bleed, and still does weep.
Whose ever wretched Heart it be,
I cannot choose but grieve to see;
What pitty in my Breast does raign?
Methinks I feel too all it's pain.
So torn, and so defac'd it lyes,
That it could ne're be known by th'eyes;
But, oh, at last I heard it grone,
And knew by th'Voyce that 'twas mine owne.
So poor Alcione, when she saw
A shipwrackt body tow'ards her draw
Beat by the waves, let fall a Tear,
Which onely then did Pitty wear:
But when the Corps on shore were cast,
Which she her Husband found at last;
What should the wretched widow do?
Grief chang'd her strait; away she flew,
Turn'd to a Bird: and so at last shall I,
Both from my Murther'd Heart, and Murth'rer fly.

Answer to the Platonicks.

SO Angels love; so let them love for me;
When I'am all soul, such shall my Love too be:
Who nothing here but like a Spirit would do,
In a short time (believ't) will be one too:
But shall our Love do what in Beasts we see?
E'ven Beasts eat too, but not so well as Wee.
And you as justly might in thirst refuse
The use of Wine; because Beasts Water use:
They taste those pleasures, as they do their food;
Undrest they tak't, devour it raw, and crude:
But to us Men, Love Cooks it at his fire,
And adds the poignant sawce of sharp desire.
Beasts do the same: 'tis true; but ancient fame
Says, Gods themselves turn'd Beasts to do the same.
The Thunderer, who, without the female bed,
Could Goddesses bring forth from out his head,
Chose rather Mortals this way to create;
So much he'esteemed his pleasure, 'bove his state.
Ye talk of fires which shine, but never burn;
In this cold world they'll hardly serve our turn;
As useless to despairing Lovers grown,
As Lambent flames, to men i'th'Frigid Zone.
The Sun does his pure fires on earth bestow
With nuptial warmth, to bring forth things below;
Such is Loves noblest and divinest heat,
That warms like his, and does, like his, beget.
Lust you call this; a name to yours more just,
If an Inordinate Desire be Lust:
Pygmalion, loving what none can enjoy,
More lustful was, then the hot youth of Troy.

The vain Love. Loving one first because she could love no body, afterwards loving her with desire.

WHat new-found Witchcraft was in thee,
With thine own Cold to kindle Mee?
Strange art! like him that should devise
To make a Burning-Glass of Ice;
When winter, so, the Plants would harm,
Her snow it self does keep them warm;
Fool that I was! who having found
A rich, and sunny Dyamond,
Admired the hardness of the Stone,
But not the Light, with which it shone:
Your brave and haughty scorn of all
Was stately, and Monarchical.
All Gentleness with that esteem'd
A dull and slavish virtue seem'd;
Should'st thou have yielded then to mee,
Thou'dst lost what most I lov'd in thee;
For who would serve one, whom he sees
That he can Conquer if he please?
It far'ed with me, as if a slave
In Triumph lead, that does perceave
With what a gay majestick pride
His Conqu'eror through the streets does ride,
Should be contented with his wo,
Which makes up such a comely show.
I sought not from thee a return,
But without Hopes or Fears did burn;
My Covetous Passion did approve
The Hoording up, not Use of Love.
My Love a kind of Dream was grown,
A Foolish, but a Pleasant one:
From which I'm wakened now, but, oh,
Prisoners to dye are wakened so.
For now th' Effects of Loving are
Nothing, but Longings with Despare:
Despair, whose torments no men sure
But Lovers, and the Damn'd endure.
Her scorn I doted once upon,
Ill object for Affection,
But since, alas, too much 'tis prov'd,
That yet 'twas something that I lov'd;
Now my desires are worse, and fly
At an Impossibility:
Desires, which whilst so high they soare,
Are Proud as that I love'd before.
What Lover can like me complain,
Who first love'd vainly, next in vain?

The Soul▪

IF mine Eyes do e're declare
They have seen a second thing, that's fair;
Or Ears, that they have Musick found,
Besides thy Voyce, in any Sound;
If my Taste do ever meet,
After thy Kiss, with ought that's sweet;
If my 'abused Touch allow
Ought to be smooth, or soft, but You;
If, what seasonable Springs,
Or the Eastern Summer brings;
Do you Smell perswade at all
Ought Perfume, but thy Breath to call;
If all my senses Objects be
Not contracted into Thee,
And so through Thee more powe'rful pass,
As Beams do through a Burning-Glass;
If all things that in Nature are
Either soft, or sweet, or fair,
Be not in Thee so 'Epitomiz'd,
That nought material's not compriz'd;
May I as worthless seem to Thee
As all, but Thou, appears to Mee.
If I ever Anger know,
Till some wrong be done to You;
If Gods or Kings my Envy move,
Without their Crowns crown'd by thy Love;
If ever I an Hope admit,
Without thy Image stampt on it;
Or any Fear, till I begin
To find that You'r concern'd therein;
If a Ioy ere come to mee,
That Tastes of any thing but Thee;
If any Sorrow touch my Mind,
Whilst You are well, and not unkind;
If I a minutes space debate,
Whether I shall curse and hate
The things beneath thy hatred fall,
Though all the World, My self and all;
And for Love; if ever I
Approach to it again so nigh,
As to allow a Toleration
To the least glimmering Inclination;
If thou alone do'est not controul
All those Tyrants of my Soul,
And to thy Beauties ty'est them so,
That constant they as Habits grow;
If any Passion of my Heart,
By any force, or any art,
Be brought to move one step from Thee,
Maist Thou no Passion have for Mee.
If my busie 'Imagination
Do not Thee in all things fashion;
So that all fair Species bee
Hieroglyphick marks of Thee;
If when Shee her sports does keep
(The lower Soul being all asleep)
She play one Dream with all her art,
Where Thou hast not the longest part.
If ought get place in my Remembrance,
Without some badge of thy resemblance;
So that thy parts become to me
A kind of Art of Memorie.
If my Understanding do
Seek any Knowledge but of You,
If she do near thy Body prize
Her Bodies of Philosophies,
If Shee to the Will do show
Ought desirable but You,
Or if That would not rebel,
Should she' another doctrine tell;
If my Will do not resigne
All her Liberty to thine;
If she would not follow Thee,
Though Fate and Thou shouldst disagree;
And if (for I a curse will give,
Such as shall force thee to believe)
My Soul be not entirely Thine;
May thy dear Body ne're be Mine.

The Passions.

FRom Hate, Fear, Hope, Anger, and Envy free,
And all the Passions else that bee,
In vain I boast of Libertie,
In vain this State a Freedom call;
Since I have Love, and Love is all:
Sot that I am, who think it fit to bragge,
That I have no Disease besides the Plague!
So in a zeal the Sons of Israel,
Sometimes upon their Idols fell;
And they depos'd the powers of Hell,
Baal, and Astarte down they threw,
And Accaron and Molock too:
All this imperfect Piety did no good,
Whilst yet, alas, the Calf of Bethel stood.
Fondly I boast, that I have drest my vine
With painful art, and that the wine
Is of a taste rich and divine,
Since Love by mixing Poyson there,
Has made it worse then vinegere.
Love even the taste of Nectar changes so,
That Gods choose rather water here below.
Fear, Anger, Hope, all Passions else that be,
Drive this one Tyrant out of Me,
And practice all your Tyrannie.
The change of ills some good will do:
Th'oppressed wretched Indians so,
Be'ing slaves by the great Spanish Monarch made,
Call in the States of Holland to their ayde.


'TIs mighty Wise that you would now be thought
With your grave Rules from musty Morals brought:
Through which some streaks too of Divinity ran,
Partly of Monk, and partly Puritan;
With tedious Repetitions too y'ave tane
Often the name of Vanity in vaine.
Things, which, I take it, friend, you'd ne'r recite,
Should she I love, but say t'you, Come at night.
The wisest King refus'd all pleasures quite,
Till Wisdom from above did him enlight.
But when that gift his igno'rance did remove,
Pleasures he chose, and plac'd them all in Love.
And if by 'event the counsels may be seen,
This wisdom 'twas that brought the Southern Queen.
She came not, like a good old Wife, to know
The wholesome nature of all plants that grow:
Nor did so far from her own Countrey rome,
To cure scall'd heads, and broken shinns at Home▪
She came for that, which more befits all Wives,
The art of Giving, not of Saving Lives.

The Despair.

BEneath this gloomy shade,
By Nature onely for my sorrows made,
I'll spend this voyce in cryes,
In tears I'll wast these eyes
By Love so vainly fed;
So Lust of old the Deluge punished.
Ah wretched youth, said I!
Ah wretched youth! twice did I sadly cry:
Ah wretched youth! the fields and floods reply.
When thoughts of Love I entertain,
I meet no words but Never, and In vain.
Never (alas) that dreadful name,
Which fewels the infernal flame:
Never, my time to come must wast;
In vain, torments the present, and the past.
In vain, in vain! said I;
In vain, in vain! twice did I sadly cry;
In vain, in vain! the fields and floods reply;
No more shall fields or floods do so;
For I to shades more dark and silent go:
All this worlds noyse appears to me
A dull ilLacted Comedie:
No comfort to my wounded sight,
In the Suns busie and imperti'nent Light.
Then down I laid my head;
Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
And my freed Soul to a strange Somewhere fled.
Ah sottish Soul; said I,
When back t'his Cage again I saw it fly:
Fool to resume his broken chain!
And row his Galley here again!
Fool, to that body to return
Where it condemn'd and destin'd is to burn!
Once dead, how can it bee,
Death should a thing so pleasant seem to Thee,
That thou shouldst come to live it o're again in Mee?

The Wish.

WEll then; I now do plainly see,
This busie world and I shall ne'r agree;
The very Honey of all earthly joy
Does of all meats the soonest cloy,
And they (methinks) deserve my pity,
Who for it can endure the stings,
The Crowd, and Buz, and Murmurings
Of this great Hive, the City.
Ah, yet, ere I descend to th'grave
May I a small House, and large Garden have!
And a few Friends, and many Books, both true,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
And since Love ne'r will from mee flee,
A Mistress moderately fair,
And good as Guardian-Angels are,
Onely belov'd, and loving mee!
Oh, Fountains, when in you shall I
My self, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, espy?
Oh Fields! Oh Woods! when, when shall I be made
The happy Tenant of your shade?
Here's the Spring-head of Pleasures flood;
Where all the Riches lie, that she
Has coyn'd and stampt for good.
Pride and Ambition here,
Onely in far fetcht Metaphors appear;
Here nought but winds can hurtful Murmurs scatter,
And nought but Eccho flatter.
The Gods, when they descended, hither
From heav'en did always choose their way;
And therefore we may boldly say,
That 'tis the way too thither.
How happy here should I,
And one dear Shee live, and embracing dy?
She who is all the world, and can exclude
In desarts Solitude.
I should have then this onely feare,
Lest men, when they my pleasures see,
Should hither throng to live like Mee,
And so make a City here.

My Dyet.

NOw by my Love, the greatest Oath that is,
None loves you half so well as I:
I do not ask your Love for this;
But for heave'ns sake believe me, or I dy.
No Servant ere but did deserve
His Master should believe that he does serve;
And I'll ask no more wages, though I sterve.
'Tis no luxurious Dyet this, and sure
I shall not by't too Lusty prove;
Yet shall it willingly endure,
If't can but keep together Life and Love.
Being your Priso'ner and your slave,
I do not Feasts and Banquets look to have,
A little Bread and water's all I crave.
O'n a sigh of Pity I a year can live,
One tear will keep me twenty at least,
Fifty a gentle look will give;
An hundred years on one kind word I'll feast:
A thousand more will added bee,
If you an Inclination have for Mee;
And all beyond is vast Aeternitie.

The Thief.

THou rob'st my Days of bus'ness and delights,
Of sleep thou rob'st my Nights;
Ah, lovely Thief what wilt thou do?
What? rob me of Heaven too?
Thou even my prayers dost steal from me.
And I, with wild Idolatrie,
Begin, to God, and end them all, to Thee.
Is it a Sin to Love, that it should thus,
Like an ill Conscience torture us?
What ere I do, where ere I go,
(None Guiltless ere was haunted so)
Still, still, methinks thy face I view,
And still thy shape does me pursue,
As if, not you Me, but I had murthered You.
From books I strive some remedy to take,
But thy Name all the Letters make;
What ere 'tis writ, I find That there,
Like Points and Comma's every where;
Me blest for this let no man hold;
For I, as Midas did of old,
Perish by turning ev'ry thing to Gold.
What do I seek, alas, or why do I
Attempt in vain from thee to fly?
For making thee my Deity,
I gave thee then Ubiquity.
My pains resemble Hell in this;
The Divine presence there too is,
But to torment Men, not to give them bliss.

All-over, Love.

TIs well, tis well with them (say I)
Whose short-liv'd Passions with themselves can dye:
For none can be unhappy, who
Midst all his ills a time does know
(Though ne'r so long) when he shall not be so.
What ever parts of Me remain,
Those parts will still the Love of thee retain;
For 'twas not onely in my Heart,
But like a God by pow'rful Art,
'Twas all in all, and all in every Part.
My'Affection no more perish can
Then the First Matter that compounds a Man.
Hereafter if one Dust of Mee
Mixt with anothers substance bee,
'Twill Leaven that whole Lump with Love of Thee.
Let Nature if she please disperse
My Atoms over all the Universe,
At the last they easi'ly shall
Themselves know, and together call;
For thy Love, like a Mark▪ is stamp'd on all.

Love and Life.

NOw sure, within this twelve-month past,
I'have lov'd at least some twenty years or more:
The account of Love runs much more fast
Then that, with which our Life does score:
So though my Life be short, yet I may prove
The great Methusalem of Love.
Not that Loves Hours or Minutes are
Shorter then those our Being's measur'ed by:
But they'r more close compacted far,
And so in lesser room do ly.
Thin airy things extend themselves in space,
Things solid take up little place.
Yet Love, alas, and Life in Me,
Are not two several things, but purely one,
At once how can there in it be
A double different Motion?
O yes, there may: for so the self same Sun,
At once does slow and swiftly run▪
Swiftly his daily journey' he goes,
But treads his Annual with a statelier pace;
And does three hundred Rounds enclose
Within one yearly Circles space.
At once with double course in the same Sphaere,
He runs the Day, and Walks the year.
When Soul does to my self refer,
'Tis then my Life, and does but slowly move;
But when it does relate to her,
It swiftly flies, and then is Love.
Love's my Diurnal course, divided right
'Twixt Hope and Fear, my Day and Night.

The Bargain.

TAke heed, take heed, thou lovely Maid,
Nor be by glittering ills betraid;
Thy self for Money? oh, let no man know
The Price of Beauty faln so low!
What dangers ought'st thou not to dread,
When Love that's Blind is by blind Fortune led?
The foolish Indian that sells
His precious Gold for beads and bells,
Does a more wise and gainful traffick hold,
Then thou who sell'st thy self for gold.
What gains in such a bargain are?
Hee'l in thy Mines dig better Treasures far.
Can Gold, alas, with Thee compare?
The Sun, that makes it's not so fair;
The Sun which can nor make, nor ever see
A thing so beautiful as Thee,
In all the journeys he does pass,
Though the Sea serv'ed him for a Looking-glass.
Bold was the wretch that cheapned Thee,
Since Magus, none so bold as he:
Thou'rt so divine a thing that Thee to buy,
Is to be counted Simony;
Too dear hee'l find his sordid price,
H'as forfeited that, and the Benefice.
If it be lawful Thee to buy,
There's none can pay that rate but I▪
Nothing on earth a fitting price can bee,
But what on earth's most like to Thee.
And that my Heart does onely bear;
For there Thy self, Thy very self is there.
So much thy self does in me live,
That when it for thy self I give,
'Tis but to change that piece of Gold for this,
Whose stamp and value equal is.
And that full Weight too may be had,
My Soul and Body; two Grains more, I'll add.

The Long Life.

LOve from Times wings hath stoln the feathers sure,
He has, and put them to his own;
For Hours of late as long as Days endure,
And very Minutes, Hours are grown.
The various Motions of the turning Year,
Belong not now at all to Mee:
Each Summers Night does Lucies now appear,
Each Winters Day St. Barnabie.
How long a space, since first I lov'd, it is?
To look into a glass I fear;
And am surpriz'd with wonder when I miss,
Grey-hairs and wrinkles there.
Th'old Patriarchs age and not their happi'ness too,
Why does hard fate to us restore?
Why does Loves Fire thus to Mankind renew,
What the Flood washt away before?
Sure those are happy people that complain,
O' th' shortness of the days of man;
Contract mine, Heaven, and bring them back again
To th'ordinary Span.
If when your gift, long Life, I disapprove,
I too ingratefull seem to bee;
Punish me justly, Heaven; make Her to love,
And then 'twill be too short for Mee.


GEntly, ah gently, Madam, touch▪
The wound, which you your self have made;
That pain must needs be very much,
Which makes me of your hand afraid.
Cordials of Pity give me now,
For I too weak for Purgings grow.
Do but a while with patience stay;
For Counsel yet will do no good,
'Till Time, and Rest, and Heav'n allay
The vi'olent burnings of my blood,
For what effect from this can flow,
To chide men drunk, for being so?
Perhaps the Physick's good you give,
But ne'r to me can useful prove;
Med'cines may Cure, but not Revive;
And I'am not Sick, but Dead in Love.
In Loves Hell, not his World, am I;
At once I Live, am Dead, and Dy.
What new found Rhetorick is thine?
Ev'n thy Diswasions me perswade,
And thy great power does clearest shine,
When thy Commands are disobey'd.
In vain thou bidst me to forbear;
Obedience were Rebellion here.
Thy Tongue comes in, as if it ment
Against thine Eyes t'assist my Heart;
But different far was his intent:
For straight the Traytor took their part.
And by this new foe I'm bereft
Of all that Little which was left.
The act I must confess was wise,
As a dishonest act could be:
Well knew the Tongue (alas) your Eyes
Would bee too strong for That, and Me▪
And part o'th' Triumph chose to get,
Rather then be a part of it.

Resolved to be beloved.

'TIs true, I'have lov'd already three or four,
And shall three or four hundred more;
I'll love each fair one that I see,
Till I find one at last that shall love Mee.
That shall my Canaan be, the fatal soil,
That ends my wandrings, and my toil.
I'll settle there and happy grow;
The Countrey does with Milk and Honey flow.
The Needle trembles so, and turns about,
Till it the Northern Point find out:
But constant then and fixt does prove,
Fixt, that his dearest Pole as soon may move.
Then may my Vessel torn and shipwrackt be,
If it put forth again to Sea:
It never more abroad shall rome,
Though't could next voyage bring the Indies home.
But I must sweat in Love, and labour yet,
Till I a Competency get.
They'r slothful fools who leave a Trade,
Till they a moderate Fortune by't have made.
Variety I ask not; give me One
To live perpetually upon.
The person Love does to us fit,
Like Manna, hath the Taste of all in it.

The Same.

FOr Heavens sake, what d'you mean to do?
Keep me, or let me go, one of the two;
Youth and warm hours let me not idlely loose,
The little Time that Love does choose;
If always here I must not stay,
Let me be gone, whilst yet 'tis day;
Lest I faint, and benighted lose my way.
'Tis dismal, One so long to love
In vain, till to love more as vain must prove:
To hunt so long on nimble prey, till we
Too weary to take others be;
Alas, 'tis folly to remain,
And waste our Army thus in vane,
Before a City which will ne'r be tane.
At several hopes wisely to fly,
Ought not to be esteem'd Inconstancy;
'Tis more Inconstant always to pursue,
A thing that always flies from you;
For that at last may meet a bound,
But no end can to this be found,
'Tis nought but a perpetual fruitless Round.
When it does Hardness meet and Pride,
My Love does then rebound t'another side;
But if it ought that's soft and yielding hit;
It lodges there, and stays in it.
Whatever 'tis shall first love me,
That it my Heaven may truly be;
I shall be sure to giv't Eternity.

The Discovery.

BY 'Heaven I'll tell her boldly that 'tis Shee;
Why should she asham'd or angry bee,
To be belov'd by Mee?
The Gods may give their Altars o're;
They'l smoak but seldom any more,
If none but Happy Men must them adore.
The Lightning which tall Oaks oppose in vain,
To strike sometime does not disdain
The humbly Furzes of the Plain.
She being so high, and I so low,
Her power by this does greater show,
Who at such distance gives so sure a blow.
Compar'd with her all things so worthless prove,
That nought on earth can tow'ards her move,
Till't be exalted by her Love.
Aequal to her, alas, there's none;
She like a Deity is growne;
That must Create, or else must be alone.
If there be man, who thinks himself so high,
As to pretend aequality,
He deserves her less, then I;
For he would cheat for his relief;
And one would give with lesser grief,
To' an undeserving Beggar, then a Thief.

Against Fruition.

NO; thou'rt a fool, I'll swear, if ere thou grant:
Much of my Veneration thou must want,
When once thy kindness puts my Igno'rance out;
For a learn'd Age is always least devout.
Keep still thy distance; for at once to me
Goddess and Woman too, thou canst not be;
Thou'rt Queen of all that sees thee; and as such
Must neither Tyrannize, nor yield too much;
Such freedoms give as may admit Command,
But keep rhe Forts and Magazines in thine hand.
Thou'rt yet a whole world to me, and do'est fill
My large ambition; but 'tis dang'rous still,
Lest I like the Pellaean Prince should be,
And weep for other worlds hav'ing conquer'd thee;
When Love has taken all thou hast away,
His strength by too much riches will decay.
Thou in my Fancy dost much higher stand,
Then Women can be place'd by Natures hand;
And I must needs, I'm sure, a loser be,
To change Thee, as Thou'rt there, for very Thee.
Thy sweetness is so much within me plac'd,
That shouldst thou Nectar give, t'would spoil the taste.
Beauty at first moves wonder, and delight;
'Tis Natures juggling trick to cheat the sight,
We 'admire it, whilst unknown, but after more
Admire our selves, for liking it before.
Love, like a greedy Hawk, if we give way,
Does overgorge himself, with his own Prey;
Of very Hopes a surfeit hee'll sustain,
Unless by Fears he cast them up again:
His spirit and sweetness dangers keep alone;
If once he lose his sting, he grows a Drone.

Love undiscovered.

I; Others may with safety tell
The moderate Flames, which in them dwell;
And either find some Med'icine there,
Or cure themselves ev'en by Despair;
My Love's so great, that it might prove
Dang'erous, to tell her that I Love.
So tender is my wound, it must not bear
Any salute, though of the kindest ayr.
I would not have her know the pain,
The Torments for her I sustain.
Lest too much goodness make her throw
Her Love upon a Fate too low.
Forbid it Heaven my Life should be
Weigh'd with her least Conveniencie:
No; let me perish rather with my grief,
Then to her disadvantage find relief.
Yet when I dye, my last breath shall
Grow bold, and plainly tell her all.
Like covetous Men who ne'r descry,
Their dear hid Treasures till they dy.
Ah fairest Maid, how will it chear
My Ghost, to get from Thee a tear!
But take heed; for if me thou Pitiest then,
Twenty to one but I shall live agen.

The given Heart.

I Wonder what those Lovers mean, who say,
They have giv'en their Hearts away.
Some good kind Lover tell me how;
For mine is but a Torment to me now.
If so it be, one place both hearts contain,
For what do they complain?
What courtesie can Love do more,
Then to joyn Hearts, that parted were before?
Wo to her stubborn Heart, if once mine com
Into the self same room;
'Twill tear and blow up all within,
Like a Granado shot into a Magazin.
Then shall Love keep the ashes, and torn parts,
Of both our broken Hearts:
Shall out of both one new one make,
From hers, th'Allay; from mine, the Mettal take.
For of her heart, he from the flames will find
But little left behind:
Mine onely will remain entire;
No dross was there, to perish in the Fire.

The Prophet.

TEach me to Love? go teach thy self more wit;
I chief Professor am of it.
Teach craft to Scots, and thrift to Iews,
Teach boldness to the Stews;
In Tyrants Courts teach supple flattery,
Teach Iesuit's that have travell'd far, to Ly.
Teach fire to burn, and winds to blow,
Teach restless fountains how to flow,
Teach the dull earth, fixt, to abide,
Teach Woman-kind inconstancy and Pride.
See if your diligence here will useful prove;
But, pr'ithee, teach not me to Love.
The God of Love, if such a thing there be,
May learn to love from Me.
He who does boast that he has bin
In every Heart since Adams sin,
I'll lay my Life, nay Mistress on't, that's more;
I'll teach him things he never knew before;
I'll teach him a Receipt to make
Words that weep, and Tears that speak,
I'll teach him Sighs, like those in Death,
At which the Souls go out too with the breath:
Still the Soul stays, yet still does from me run;
As Light and Heat does with the Sun.
'Tis I who Loves Columbus am; 'tis I,
Who must new Worlds in it descry:
Rich Worlds, that yield of Treasure more,
Then all that has bin known before▪
And yet like his (I fear) my Fate must be,
To find them out for others; not for Me.
Mee Times to come, I know it, shall
Loves last and greatest Prophet call:
But, ah, what's that, if she refuse,
To hear the wholesome Doctrines of my Muse?
If to my share the Prophets fate must come;
Hereafter Fame, here Martyrdome.

The Resolution.

THe Devil take those foolish men,
Who gave you first such pow'rs;
We stood on even grounds till then;
If any odds, Creation made it ours.
For shame let these weak chains be broke;
Let's our slight bonds, like Sampson, tear;
And nobly cast away that yoke,
Which we nor our Forefathers ere could bear.
French Laws forbid the female Raign;
Yet Love does them to slavery draw,
Alas, if wee'll our rights maintain,
'Tis all Mankind must make a Salique Law.

Called Inconstant.

HA! ha! you think y'have kill'd my fame;
By this not understood, yet common Name:
A Name, that's full and proper when assign'd
To Womankind:
But when you call us so,
It can at best but for a Met'aphor go.
Can you the shore Inconstant call,
Which still as Waves pass by, embraces all?
That had as leif the same waves always love,
Did they not from him move?
Or can you fault with Pilots find
For changing course, yet never blame the wind?
Since drunk with vanity you fell:
The things turn round to you that stedfast dwell;
And you your self, who from us take your flight,
Wonder to find us out of sight.
So the same errour seizes you,
As Men in motion think the Trees move too.

The Welcome.

GO, let the fatted Calf be kill'd;
My Prodigal's come home at last;
With noble resolutions fill'd,
And fill'd with sorrow for the past.
No more will burn with Love or Wine:
But quite has left his Women and his Swine.
Welcome, ah welcome my poor Heart;
Welcome; I little thought, I'll swear,
('Tis now so long since we did part)
Ever again to see thee here:
Dear Wanderer, since from me you fled,
How often have I heard that Thou wer't dead.
Hast thou not found each womans brest
(The Lands where thou hast travelled)
Either by Savages possest,
Or wild, and uninhabited?
What joy couldst take, or what repose
In Countreys so unciviliz'd as those?
Lust, the scorching Dog-star, here
Rages with immoderate beat;
Whil'st Pride the rugged Northern Bear,
In others makes the Cold too great.
And where these are temp'rate known,
The Soyl's all barren Sand, or rocky Stone.
When once or twice you chanc'd to view
A rich, well-govern'd Heart,
Like China, it admitted You
But to the Frontier-part.
From Par'adise shut for evermore,
What good is't that an Angel kept the Door?
Well fare the Pride, and the Disdain
And Vanities with Beauty joyn'd,
I ne'r had seen this Heart again,
If any Fair one had been kind:
My Dove, but once let loose, I doubt
Would ne'r return, had not the Flood been out.

The Heart fled again.

FAlse, foolish Heart! didst thou not say,
That thou wouldst never leave me more?
Behold again 'tis fled away;
Fled as far from me as before▪
I strove to bring it back again,
I cry'd and hollow'd after it in vain.
Even so the gentle Tyrian Dame,
When neither Grief nor Love prevail,
Saw the dear object of her flame,
Th'ingrateful Trojan hoist his sail:
Aloud she call'd to him to stay;
The wind bore him, and her lost words away.
The doleful Ariadne so,
On the wide shore forsaken, stood:
False Theseus, whither dost thou go?
Afar false Theseus cut the flood.
But Bacchus came to her relief;
Bacchus himselfe's too weak to ease my grief.
Ah senseless Heart, to take no rest,
But travel thus eternally!
Thus to be froz'n in every breast!
And to be scorcht in every Eye!
Wandring about like wretched Cain,
Thrust out, ill us'd by all, but by none slain!
Well; since thou wilt not here remain,
I'll ev'en to live without Thee try;
My Head shall take the greater pain,
And all thy duties shall supply;
I can more easi'ly live I know
Without Thee, then without a Mistris Thow.

Womens Superstition.

OR I'm a very Dunce, or Womankind
Is a most unintelligible thing:
I can no Sense, nor no Contexture find,
Nor their loose parts to Method bring,
I know not what the Learn'd may see,
But they'r strange Hebrew things to Mee.
By Customs and Traditions they live,
And foolish Ceremonies of antick date,
We Lovers, new and better Doctrines give.
Yet they continue obstinate;
Preach we, Loves Prophets, what we will,
Like Iews, they keep their old Law still.
Before their Mothers Gods, they fondly fall,
Vain Idol-Gods that have no Sense nor Mind:
Honour's their Ashtaroth, and Pride their Baal,
The Thundring Bâal of Woman-kind.
With twenty other Devils more,
Which They, as We do Them, adore.
But then, like Men both Covetous and Devout,
Their costly Superstition loath t'omit,
And yet more loath to issue Moneys out,
At their own charge to furnish it.
To these expensive Deities,
The Hearts of Men they sacrifice.

The Soul.

SOme dull Philos'opher when he hears me say,
My Soul is from me fled away;
Nor has of late inform'd my Body here,
But in anothers breast does ly,
That neither Is, nor will be I,
As a Form Servient and Assisting there.
[...] [...]
Will cry, Absurd! and ask me, how I live:
And Syllogisms against it give;
A curse on all your vain Philosophies,
Which on weak Natures Law depend,
And know not how to comprehend
Love and Religion, those great Mysteries.
Her Body is my Soul; laugh not at this,
For by my Life I swear it is.
'Tis that preserves my Being and my Breath,
From that proceeds all that I do,
Nay all my Thoughts and speeches too,
And separation from it is my Death.


TIr'ed with the rough denials of my prayer,
From that hard she whom I obey,
I come, and find a Nymph, much gentler here,
That gives consent to all I say.
Ah gentle Nymph who lik'st so well,
In hollow, solitary Caves to dwell,
Her Heart being such, into it go,
And do but once from thence answer me so.
Complaisant Nymph, who do'est thus kindly share
In griefs, whose cause thou do'est not know!
Hadst thou but Eyes, as well as Tongue and Ear,
How much compassion wouldst thou show!
Thy flame, whilst living, or a flower,
Was of less beauty, and less rav'ishing power;
Alas, I might as easilie,
Paint thee to her, as describe Her to Thee.
By repercussion Beams engender Fire,
Shapes by reflexion shapes beget;
The voyce it self, when stopt, does back retire,
And a new voice is made by it.
Thus things by opposition
The gainers grow; my barren Love alone,
Does from her stony breast rebound,
Producing neither Image, Fire, nor Sound.

The rich Rival.

THey say youre angry, and rant mightilie,
Because I love the same as you;
Alas! you're very rich; 'tis true;
But prithee Fool, what's that to Love, and Mee?
You' have Land, and Money, let that serve;
And know you' have more by that then you deserve.
When next I see my fair One, she shall know,
How worthless thou art of her bed;
And wretch, I'll strike thee dumb and dead,
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole Rhetorick shall be
Ioynture, and Iewels, and Our Friends agree.
Pox o' your friends, that dote and Domineere:
Lovers are better Friends then they:
Let's those in other things obey;
The Fates, and Stars, and Gods must govern here.
Vain names of Blood! in Love let none
Advise with any Blood, but with their owne.
'Tis that which bids me this bright Maid adore;
No other thought has had access!
Did she now beg I'd love no less,
And were she'an Empress, I should love no more;
Were she as just and true to Mee,
Ah, simple soul, what would become of Thee!

Against Hope.

HOpe, whose weak Being ruin'd is,
Alike if it succeed, and if it miss;
Whom Good or Ill does aequally confound,
And both the Horns of Fates Dilemma wound,
Vain shadow! which dost vanish quite,
Both at full Noon, and perfect Night!
The stars have not a possibility
Of blessing Thee;
If things then from their End we happy call,
'Tis Hope is the most Hopeless thing of all.
Hope, thou bold Taster of Delight,
Who whilst thou shouldst but taste, devour'st it quite!
Thou bringst us an Estate, yet leav'st us Poore,
By clogging it with Legacies before!
The Ioys which we entire should wed,
Come deflowr'd Virgins to our bed;
Good fortunes without gain imported bee,
Such mighty Custom's paid to Thee.
For Ioy, like Wine, kept close does better taste;
If it take air before, his spirits waste.
Hope, Fortunes cheating Lotterie!
Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be;
Fond Archer, Hope, who tak'st thy aim so far,
That still or short or wide thine arrows are!
Thin, empty Cloud, which th'eye deceives
With shapes that our own Fancy gives!
A Cloud, which gilt and painted now appears,
But must drop presently in tears!
When thy false beams o're Reasons light prevail,
By Ignes fatui for North-Stars we sail.
Brother of Fear, more gaily clad!
The merr'ier Fool o'th' two, yet quite as Mad:
Sire of Repentance, Childe of fond Desire!
That blow'st the Chymicks, and the Lovers fire!
Leading them still insensibly 'on
By the strange witchcraft of Anon!
By Thee the one does changing Nature through
Her endless Labyrinths pursue,
And th'other chases Woman, whilst She goes
More ways and turns then hunted Nature knows.

For Hope.

HOpe, of all Ills that men endure,
The onely cheap and Universal Cure!
Thou Captives freedom, and Thou sick Mans Health!
Thou Losers Victo'ry, and thou Beggars wealth!
Thou Manna, which from Heav'n we eat,
To every Taste a several Meat!
Thou strong Retreat! thou sure entail'd Estate,
Which nought has power to alienate!
Thou pleasant, honest Flatterer! for none
Flatter unhappy Men, but thou alone!
Hope, thou First-fruits of Happiness!
Thou gentle Dawning of a bright Success!
Thou good Prepar'ative, without which our Ioy
Does work too strong, and whilst it cures, destroy▪
Who out of Fortunes reach dost stand,
And art a blessing still in hand!
Whilst Thee, her Earnest-Money we retain,
We certain are to gain,
Whether she'her bargain break, or else fulfill;
Thou onely good, not worse, for ending ill!
Brother of Faith, 'twixt whom and Thee
The joys of Heav'n and Earth divided bee!
Though Faith be Heir, and have the fixt estate,
Thy Portion yet in Moveables is great.
Happiness it self's all one
In Thee, or in possession!
Onely the Future's Thine, the present His!
Thine's the more hard and noble bliss;
Best apprehender of our joys, which hast
So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast!
Hope, thou sad Lovers onely Friend!
Thou Way that maist dispute it with the End!
For Love I fear's a fruit that does delight
The taste it self less then the Smell and Sight.
Fruition more deceitful is
Then Thou canst be, when thou dost miss;
Men leave thee by obtaining, and strait flee
Some other way again to Thee;
And that's a pleasant Countrey, without doubt,
To which all soon return that travel out.

Loves Ingratitude.

I Little thought, thou fond ingrateful Sin,
When first I let thee in,
And gave thee but a part
In my unwary Heart,
That thou wouldst ere have grown,
So false or strong to make it all thine own.
At mine own breast with care I fed thee still,
Letting thee suck thy fill,
And daintily I nourisht Thee
With Idle thoughts and Poetrie!
What ill returns dost thou allow?
I fed thee then, and thou dost sterve me now.
There was a time, when thou wast cold and chill,
Nor had'st the power of doing ill;
Into my bosom did I take,
This frozen and benummed Snake,
Not fearing from it any harm;
But now it stings that brest which made it warm.
What cursed weed's this Love! but one grain sow,
And the whole field 'twill overgrow;
Strait will it choak up and devour
Each wholesome herb and beauteous flour!
Nay unless something soon I do,
'Twill kill I fear my very Lawrel too.
But now all's gon, I now, alas, complain,
Declare, protest and threat in vain.
Since by my own unforc'd consent,
The Traytor has my Government,
And is so settled in the Throne,
That 'twere Rebellion now to claim mine owne.

The Frailty,

I Know 'tis sordid, and 'tis low;
(All this as well as you I know)
Which I so hotly now pursue;
(I know all this as well as you)
But whilst this cursed flesh I beare,
And all the Weakness, and the Baseness there,
Alas, alas, it will be always so.
In vain, exceedingly in vain
I rage sometimes, and bite my Chain;
For to what purpose do I bite
With Teeth which ne'r will break it quite?
For if the chiefest Christian Head,
Was by this sturdy Tyrant buffeted,
What wonder is it, if weak I be stain?


AS water fluid is, till it do grow
Solid and fixt by Cold;
So in warm Seasons Love does loosely flow,
Frost onely can it hold.
A Womans rigour, and disdain,
Does his swift course restrain,
Though constant, and consistent now it bee,
Yet, when kind beams appear,
It melts, and glides apace into the Sea,
And loses it self there.
So the Suns amorous play,
Kisses the Ice away.
You may in Vulgar Loves find always this;
But my Substantial Love
Of a more firm, and perfect Nature is;
No weathers can it move:
Though Heat dissolve the Ice again,
The Crystal solid does remain.

The Injoyment.

THen like some wealthy Island thou shalt ly;
And like the Sea about it, I;
Thou like fair Albion, to the Sailors Sight,
Spreading her beauteous Bosom all in White:
Like the kind Ocean I will bee,
With loving Arms for ever clasping Thee.
But I'll embrace Thee gentli'er far then so;
As their fresh Banks soft Rivers do,
Nor shall the proudest Planet boast a power
Of making my full Love to ebb one hour;
It never dry or low can prove,
Whilst thy unwasted Fountain feeds my Love.
Such Heat and Vigour shall our Kisses bear,
As if like Doves we'engendred there.
No bound nor rule my pleasures shall endure,
In Love there's none too much an Epicure.
Nought shall my hands or Lips controul;
I'll kiss Thee through, I'll kiss thy very Soul.
Yet nothing, but the Night our sports shall know;
Night that's both blind and silent too.
Alpheus found not a more secret trace,
His lov'd S [...]canian Fountain to embrace,
Creeping so far beneath the Sea,
Then I will do t' enjoy, and feast on Thee.
Men, out of Wisdom; Women, out of Pride,
The pleasant Thefts of Love do hide.
That may secure thee; but thou'hast yet from Me
A more infallible Securitie.
For there's no danger I should tell
The Ioys, which are to Me unspeakable.


IN vain, thou drousie God, I thee invoak;
For thou, who dost from fumes arise,
Thou, who Mans Soul dost overshade
With a thick Cloud by Vapours made,
Canst have no power to shut his eyes,
Or passage of his Spi'rits to choak,
Whose flame's so pure, that it sends up no smoak.
Yet how do Tears but from some Vapours rise?
Tears, that bewinter all my Year?
The fate of Egypt I sustain,
And never feel the dew of Rain,
From Clouds which in the Head appear,
But all my too much Moysture ow,
To overflowings of the Heart below.
Thou, who dost Men (as Nights to Colours do)
Bring all to an Equality:
Come, thou just God; and aequal mee
A while to my disdainful Shee;
In that condition let me ly;
Till Love does the same favour shew;
Love aequals all a better way then You.
Then never more shalt thou be'invoakt by me;
Watchful as Spirits, and Gods I'll prove:
Let her but grant, and then will I,
Thee and thy Kinsman Death defy.
For betwixt Thee and them that love,
Never will an agreement bee;
Thou scorn st th'Unhappy; and the Happy, Thee.


BEauty, thou wilde fantastick Ape,
Who dost in ev'ry Country change thy shape!
Here black, there brown, here tawny, and there white;
Thou Flatt'rer which compli'st with every sight!
Thou Babel which confoundst the Ey
With unintelligible variety!
Who hast no certain What, nor Where,
But vary'st still, and dost thy self declare
Inconstant, as thy she-Possessors are.
Beauty, Loves Scene and Maskerade,
So gay by well-plac'd Lights, and Distance made;
False Coyn, with which th' Impostor cheats us still;
The stamp and Colour good, but Mettal ill!
Which Light, or Base we find, when we
Weigh by enjoyment and examine Thee!
For though thy Being be but show,
'Tis chiefly Night which men to Thee allow:
And choose t' enjoy Thee, when Thou lest art Thou.
Beauty, Thou active, passive Ill!
Which dy'st thy self as fast as thou dost kill!
Thou Tulip, who thy stock in paint dost waste,
Neither for Physick good, nor Smell, nor Taste.
Beauty, whose Flames but Meteors are,
Short-liv'd and low, though thou wouldst seem a Starre,
Who dar st not thine own Home descry,
Pretending to dwell richly in the Eye,
When thou, alas, dost in the Fancy lye.
Beauty, whose Conquests still are made
O're Hearts by Cowards kept; or else betray'd!
Weak Victor! who thy self destroy'd must bee
When sickness storms, or Time besieges Thee!
Thou'unwholesome Thaw to frozen Age!
Thou strong wine, which youths Feaver dost enrage,
Thou Tyrant which leav'st no man free!
Thou subtle thief, from whom nought safe can be!
Thou Murth'rer which hast kill'd, and Devil which wouldst Damn me.

The Parting.

AS Men in Groen-land left beheld the Sun
From their Horizon run;
And thought upon the lad half year
Of Cold and Darkness they must suffer there.
So on my parting Mistress did I look,
With such swoln eyes my farewel took;
Ah, my fair Star! said I;
Ah those blest Lands to which bright Thou dost fly!
In vain the Men of Learning comfort me;
And say I'm in a warm degree;
Say what they please; I say and swear
'Tis beyond eighty at least, if you'r not here.
It is, it is; I tremble with the Frost,
And know that I the Day have lost;
And those wilde things which Men they call,
I find to be but Bears or Foxes all▪
Return, return, gay Planet of mine East,
Of all that shines Thou much the Best!
And as thou now descend'st to Sea;
More fair and fresh rise up from thence to Mee.
Thou, who in many a Propriety,
So truly art the Sun to Mee,
Adde one more likeness, which I'm sure you can,
And let Me and my Sun beget a Man.

My Picture.

HEre, take my Likeness with you, whilst 'tis so;
For when from hence you go,
The next Suns rising will behold
Me pale, and lean, and old.
The Man who did this Picture draw,
Will swear next day my face he never saw.
I really believe, within a while,
If you upon this shadow smile,
Your presence will such vigour give,
(Your presence which makes all things live)
And absence so much alter Me,
This will the substance, I the shadow be.
When from your well-wrought Cabinet you take it,
And your bright looks awake it;
Ah be not frighted, if you see,
The new-sould Picture gaze on Thee,
And hear it breath a sigh or two;
For those are the first things that it will do.
My Rival-Image will be then thought blest,
And laugh at me as dispossest;
But Thou, who (if I know thee right)
I'th substance dost not much delight,
Wilt rather send again for Me.
Who then shall but my Pictures Picture be.

The Concealment.

NO; to what purpose should I speak?
No, wretched Heart, swell till you break!
She cannot love me if she would;
And to say truth, 'twere pity that she should.
No, to the Grave thy sorrows bear,
As silent, as they will be there:
Since that lov'd hand this mortal wound do's give,
So handsomely the thing contrive,
That she may guiltless of it live.
So perish, that her killing Thee
May a Chance-Medley, and no Murther be.
'Tis nobler much for me, that I
By'her Beauty, not her Anger dy;
This will look justly, and become
An Execution; that, a Martyrdome.
The censuring world will ne'r refrain
From judging men by Thunder slain.
She must be angry sure, if I should be
So bold to ask her to make me
By being hers, happi'er then she.
I will not; 'tis a milder fate
To fall by her not Loving, then her Hate.
And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear:
When, sound in every other part,
Her Sacrifice is found without an Heart.
For the last Tempest of my death
Shall sigh out that too, with my breath.
Then shall the world my noble ruine see,
Some pity, and some envy Mee,
Then She herself, the mighty Shee,
Shall grace my fun'rals with this truth;
Twas onely Love destroy'd the gentle Youth.

The Monopoly.

WHat Mines of Sulphur in my breast do ly,
That feed th'aeternal burnings of my heart?
Not Aetna flames more fierce or constantly,
The sounding shop of Vulcans smoaky art;
Vulcan his shop has placed there,
And Cupids Forge is set up here.
Here all those Arrows mortal Heads are made,
That flye so thick unseen through yielding ayr;
The Cyclops here, which labour at the trade
Are Iealousie, Fear, Sadness and Despair.
Ah cruel God! and why to me
Gave you this curst Monopolie?
I have the trouble, not the gains of it;
Give me but the disposal of one Dart;
And then (I'll ask no other benefit)
Heat as you please your furnace in my Heart.
So sweet's Revenge to me, that I
Upon my foe would gladly dy.
Deep into'her bosom would I strike the dart;
Deeper then Woman e're was struck by Thee;
Thou giv'st them small wounds, and so far from th'Heart,
They flutter still about, inconstantly.
Curse on thy Goodness, whom we find
Civil to none but Woman-kind!
Vain God! who women dost thy self adore!
Their wounded Hearts do still retain the powers▪
To travel, and to wander as before;
Thy broken Arrows 'twixt that sex and ours
So'unjustly are distributed;
They take the Feathers, we the Head.

The Distance▪

I'Have followed thee a year at least,
And never stopt my self to rest.
But yet can thee o'retake no more,
Then this Day can the Day that went before.
In this our fortunes aequal prove
To Stars, which govern them above;
Our Stars that move for ever round,
With the same Distance still betwixt them found.
In vain, alas, in vain I strive
The wheel of Fate faster to drive;
Since if a round it swiftlier fly,
She in it mends her pace as much as I.
Hearts by Love, strangely shuffled are,
That there can never meet a Pare!
Tamelier then Worms are Lovers slain;
The wounded Heart ne'r turns to wound again▪

The Encrease▪

I Thought, I'll swear, I could have lov'd no more
Then I had done before;
But you as easi'ly might account
'Till to the top of Numbers you amount,
As cast up my Loves score.
Ten thousand millions was the sum;
Millions of endless Millions are to com.
I'm sure her Beauties cannot greater grow;
Why should my Love do so?
A real cause at first did move;
But mine own Fancy now drives on my Love,
With shadows from it self that flow.
My Love, as we in Numbers see,
By Cyphers is encreast aeternallie.
So the new-made, and untride Sphaeres above,
Took their first turn from th'hand of Iove;
But are since that beginning found
By their own Forms to move for ever round.
All violent Motions short do prove,
But by the length 'tis plain to see
That Love's a Motion Natural to Mee.

Loves Visibility.

WIth much of pain, and all the Art I knew
Have I endeavour'd hitherto
To hide my Love, and yet all will not do▪
The world perceives it, and it may be, she;
Though so discreet and good she be,
By hiding it, to teach that skill to Me.
Men without Love have oft so cunning grown,
That something like it they have showne,
But none who had it ever seem'd t have none.
Love's of a strangely open, simple kind,
Can no arts or disguises find,
But thinks none sees it 'cause it self is blind.
The very Eye betrays our inward smart;
Love of himself left there a part,
When thorow it he past into the Heart.
Or if by chance the Face betray not it,
But keep the secret wisely, yet,
Like Drunkenness, into the Tongue t'will get.

Looking on, and discoursing with his Mistress.

THese full two hours now have I gazing been,
What comfort by it can I gain?
To look on Heav'en with mighty Gulfs between
Was the great Misers greatest pain:
So neer was he to Heavens delight,
As with the blest converse he might,
Yet could not get one drop of water by't.
Ah wretch! I seem to touch her now; but, oh,
What boundless spaces do us part?
Fortune, and Friends, and all earths empty show,
My Lowness, and her high Desert:
But these might conquerable prove;
Nothing does me so far remove,
As her hard Souls aversion from my Love.
So Travellers, that lose their way by night,
If from afar they chance t'espy
Th'uncertain glimmerings of a Tapers light,
Take flattering hopes, and think it nigh;
Till wearied with the fruitless pain,
They sit them down, and weep in vain,
And there in Darkness, and Despair remain.

Resolved to Love.

I Wonder what the Grave and Wise
Think of all us that Love;
Whether our pretty Fooleries
Their Mirth or Anger move;
They understand not Breath, that Words does want;
Our Sighs to them are unsignificant.
One of them saw me th'other day,
Touch the dear hand, which I admire;
My Soul was melting strait away,
And dropt before the Fire.
This silly Wiseman, who pretends to know,
Askt why I look'd so pale, and trembled so?
Another from my Mistress'dore
Saw me with eyes all watry com;
Nor could the hidden cause explore,
But thought some smoak was in the room;
Such Igno'rance from unwounded Learning came;
He knew Tears made by Smoak, but not by Flame.
If learn'd in other things you be,
And have in Love no skill,
For Gods sake keep your arts from me,
For I'll be ign'orant still.
Study or Action others may embrace;
My Love's my Business, and my Books her Face.
These are but Trifles, I confess,
Which me, weak Mortal, move;
Nor is your busie Seriousness
Less trifling then my Love.
The wisest King who from his sacred brest
Pronounc'd all Van'ity, chose it for the best.

My Fate▪

GO bid the Needle his deer North forsake,
To which with trembling rev'erence it does bend;
Go bid the Stones a journey upwards make;
Go bid th'ambitious Flame no more t'ascend:
And when these false to their old Motions prove,
Then shall I cease Thee, Thee alone to Love.
The fast-link'd Chain of everlasting Fate
Does nothing tye more strong, then Me to You;
My fixt Love hangs not on your Love or Hate;
But will be still the same, what e're you do.
You cannot kill my Love with your disdain,
Wound it you may, and make it live in pain.
Mee, mine example let the Stoicks use,
Their sad and cruel doctrine to maintain,
Let all Praedestinators me produce,
Who struggle with aeternal bonds in vain.
This Fire I'm born to, but 'tis she must tell,
Whether't be Beams of Heav'en, or Flames of Hell.
You, who mens fortunes in their faces reade,
To find out mine, look not, alas, on Mee;
But mark her Face, and all the features heed;
For onely there is writ my Destinie.
Or if stars shew it, gaze not on the skyes;
But study the Astrol'ogy of her Eyes.
If thou find there kind and propitious rays,
What Mars or Saturn threaten I'll not fear;
I well believe the Fate of mortal days
Is writ in Heav'en; but, oh my heav'en is there.
What can men learn from stars they 'scarce can see?
Two great Lights rule the world; and her two, Mee.

The Heart- breaking.

IT gave a piteous groan, and so it broke;
In vain it something would have spoke:
The Love within too strong for't was,
Like Poyson put into a Venice-Glass.
I thought that this some Remedy might prove,
But, oh, the mighty Serpent Love,
Cut by this chance in pieces small,
In all still liv'd, and still it stung in all.
And now (alas) each little broken part
Feels the whole pain of all my Heart:
And every smallest corner still
Lives with that torment which the Whole did kill.
Even so rude Armies when the field they quit,
And into several Quarters get;
Each Troop does spoil and ruine more,
Then all joyn'd in one Body did before.
How many Loves raign in my bosom now?
How many Loves, yet all of you?
Thus have I chang'd with evil fate
My Monarch-Love into a Tyrant State.

The Vsurpation.

THou'hadst to my Soul no title or pretence;
I was mine own, and free▪
Till I had giv'n my self to Thee;
But thou hast kept me Slave and Prisoner since.
Well, since so insolent thou'rt growne,
Fond Tyrant, I'll depose thee from thy throne;
Such outrages must not admitted be
In an Elective Monarchie.
Part of my Heart by Gift did to Thee fall;
My Countrey, Kindred, and my best
Acquaintance were to share the rest;
But thou, their Cov'etous Neighbour, drav'est out all:
Nay more; thou mak'st me worship Thee,
And would'st the rule of my Religion bee;
Was ever Tyrant claim'd▪ such power as you,
To be both Emp'rour, and Pope too?
The publike Mise'ries, and my private fate
Deserve some tears: but greedy Thou
(Insatiate Maid!) wilt not allow
That I one drop from thee should alienate.
Nor wilt thou grant my sins a part,
Though the sole cause of most of them thou art,
Counting my Tears thy Tribute and thy Due,
Since first mine Eyes I gave to You.
Thou all my Ioys and all my Hopes dost claime,
Thou ragest like a Fire in mee,
Converting all things into Thee;
Nought can resist, or not encrease the Flame.
Nay every Grief and every Fear.
Thou dost devour, unless thy stamp it bear.
Thy presence, like the crowned Basilisks breath,
All other Serpents puts to death.
As men in Hell are from Diseases free,
So from all other ills am I;
Free from their known Formality:
But all pains Eminently lye in Thee:
Alas, alas, I hope in vain
My conquer'd Soul from out thine hands to gain,
Since all the Natives there thou'st overthrown,
And planted Gar'isons of thine own.


THou worst estate even of the sex that's worst;
Therefore by Nature made at first,
T'attend the weakness of our birth!
Slight, outward Curtain to the Nuptial Bed!
Thou Case to buildings not yet finished!
Who like the Center of the Earth,
Dost heaviest things attract to thee,
Though Thou a point imaginary bee.
A thing God thought for Mankind so unfit,
That his first Blessing ruin'd it.
Cold frozen Nurse of fiercest fires!
Who, like the parched plains of Africks sand,
(A steril, and a wild unlovely Land)
Art always scorcht with hot desires,
Yet barren quite, didst thou not bring
Monsters and Serpents forth thy self to sting!
Thou that bewitchest men, whilst thou dost dwell
Like a close Conj'urer in his Cell!
And fear'st the days discovering Eye!
No wonder'tis at all that thou shouldst be
Such tedious and unpleasant Companie,
Who liv'st so Melancholily!
Thou thing of subtil, slippery kind,
Which Women lose, and yet no Man can find!
Although I think thou never found wilt be,
Yet I'm resolv'd to search for thee;
The search it self rewards the pains.
So, though the Chymick his great secret miss,
(For neither it in Art nor Nature is)
Yet things well worth his toyle he gains:
And does his Charge and Labour pay
With good unsought exper'iments by the way.
Say what thou wilt, Chastity is no more,
Thee, then a Porter is his Dore.
In vain to honour they pretend,
Who guard themselves with Ramparts and with Walls,
Them onely fame the truly valiant calls,
Who can an open breach defend.
Of thy quick loss can be no doubt,
Within so Hated, and so Lov'd without.


IMpossibilities? oh no, there's none;
Could mine bring thy Heart Captive home;
As eas'ily other dangers were o'rethrowne,
As Caesar after vanquish't Rome,
His little Asian foes did overcome.
True Lovers oft by Fortune are envy'd▪
Oft Earth and Hell against them strive;
But Providence engages on their side,
And a good end at▪ last does give;
At last Iust Men and Lovers always thrive.
As stars (not powerful else) when they conjoyne,
Change, as they please, the Worlds estate;
So thy Heart in Conjunction with mine,
Shall our own fortunes regulate;
And to our Stars themselves prescribe a Fate.
'Twould grieve me much to find some bold Romance,
That should two kind examples shew,
Which before us in wonders did advance;
Not, that I thought that story true,
But none should Fancy more, then I would Doe.
Through spight of our worst Enemies, thy Friends,
Through Local Banishment from Thee;
Through the loud thoughts of less-concerning Ends,
As easie shall my passage bee,
As was the Amo'rous Youth's ore Helles Sea.
In vain the Winds, in vain the Billows rore;
In vain the Stars their ayd deny'd:
He saw the Sestian Tower on th'other shore;
Shall th'Hellespont our Loves divide?
No, not th'Atlantick Oceans boundless Tide.
Such Seas betwixt us eas'ly conquer'd are;
But, gentle Maid, do not deny
To let thy Beams shine on me from afarre;
And still that Taper let me'espy:
For when thy Light goes out, I sink, and dy▪


CUrse on this Tongue, that has my Heart betray'd,
And his great Secret open laid!
For of all persons chiefly She,
Should not the ills I suffer know;
Since 'tis a thing might dang'rous grow,
Onely in Her to Pity Me:
Since 'tis for Me to lose my Life more fit,
Then 'tis for Her to save and ransome it.
Ah, never more shall thy unwilling ear
My helpless story hear.
Discourse and talk awake does keep
The rude unquiet pain,
That in my Brest does raign;
Silence perhaps may make it sleep:
I'll bind that Sore up, I did ill reveal▪
The Wound, if once it Close, may chance to Heal.
No, 'twill ne'r heal; my Love will never dye,
Though it should speechless lye.
A River, ere it meet the Sea,
As well might stay it's source,
As my Love can his course,
Unless it joyn and mix with Thee.
If any end or stop of it be found,
We know the Flood runs still, though underground.

The Dissembler.

UNhurt, untoucht did I complain;
And terrifi'd all others with the pain:
But now I feel the mighty evil;
Ah, there's no fooling with the Devil!
So wanton men, whilst others they would fright,
Themselves have met a real Spright.
I thought, I'll swear, an handsome ly
Had been no sin at all in Poetry:
But now I suffer an Arrest,
For words were spoke by me in jest.
Dull, sottish God of Love, and can it be
Thou understand'st not Raillerie?
Darts, and Wounds, and Flame, and Heat,
I nam'd but for the Rhime, or the Conceit.
Nor meant my verse should raised be,
To this sad fame of Prophesie;
Truth gives a dull Propriety to my stile,
And all the Metaphors does spoile:
In things, where Fancy much does reign,
Tis dangerous too cunningly to feign.
The Play at last a Truth does grow,
And Custom into Nature go.
By this curst art of begging I became
Lame, with counterfeiting Lame.
My Lines of amorous desire
I wrote to kindle and blow others fire:
And 'twas a barbarous delight
My Fancy promise'd from the sight;
But now, by Love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the first do try.

The Inconstant.

I Never yet could see that face
Which had no dart for me;
From fifteen years, to fifties space,
They all victorious be.
Love thou'rt a Devil; if I may call thee One,
For sure in Me thy name is Legion.
Colour, or Shape, good Limbs, or Face,
Goodness or Wit in all I find.
In Motion or in Speech a grace,
If all fail, yet 'tis Womankind;
And I'm so weak, the Pistol need not be
Double or treble charg'd to murder Me.
If Tall, the Name of Proper slays;
If Fair, she's pleasant as the Light;
If Low, her Prettiness does please;
If Black, what Lover loves not Night?
If yellow hair'd, I Love, lest it should be
Th'excuse to others for not loving Me.
The Fat, like Plenty, fills my heart;
The Lean, with Love makes me too so.
If Streight, her Bodie's Cupids Dart
To me; if Crooked, 'tis his Bow.
Nay Age it self does me to rage encline,
And strength to Women gives, as well as Wine.
Iust half as large as Charitie
My richly-landed Love's become;
And judg'd aright is Constancie,
Though it take up a larger room:
Him, who loves always one, why should they call
More Constant, then the Man loves Always All?
Thus with unwearied wings I flee
Through all Loves Gardens and his Fields;
And, like the wise, industrious Bee,
No Weed but Honey to me yields!
Honey still spent this diligence still supplies,
Though I return not home with laden Thighs.
My Soul at first indeed did prove
Of pretty strength against a Dart;
Till I this Habit got of Love;
But my consum'd and wasted Heart
Once burnt to Tinder with a strong Desire,
Since that by every Spark is set on Fire.

The Constant.

GReat, and wise Conqu'rour, who where ere
Thou com'st, dost fortifie, and settle there!
Who canst defend as well as get;
And never hadst one Quarter beat up yet;
Now thou art in, Thou ne'r wilt part
With one inch of my vanquisht Heart;
For since thou took'st it by assault from Mee,
'Tis Garison'd so strong with Thoughts of Thee,
It fears no beauteous Enemie.
Had thy charming strength been less,
I'had serv'd ere this an hundred Mistresses.
I'm better thus, nor would compound
To leave my Pris'on to be a Vagabound.
A Pr'ison in which I still would be,
Though every door stood op'e to Me.
In spight both of thy Coldness and thy Pride,
All Love is Marriage on thy Lovers side,
For onely Death can them divide.
Close, narrow Chain, yet soft and kind,
As that which Spi'rits above to good does bind,
Gentle, and sweet Necessitie,
Which does not force, but guide our Libertie!
Your love on Me were spent in vain,
Since my Love still could but remain
Iust as it is; for what, alas can be
Added to that which hath Infinitie
Both in Extent, and Qualitie?

Her Name.

WIth more then Iewish Reverence as yet
Do I the Sacred Name conceal;
When, ye kind Stars, ah when will it be fit
This Gentle Myst'ery to reveal?
When will our Love be Nam'd, and we possess
That Christning as a Badge of Happiness?
So bold as yet no verse of mine has been,
To wear that Gem on any Line;
Nor, til the happy Nuptial Muse be seene,
Shall any Stanza with it shine.
Rest, mighty Name, till then; for thou must be
Laid down by Her, e're taken up by Me.
Then all the fields and woods shall with it ring;
Then Ecchoes burden it shall be;
Then all the Birds in sev'eral notes shall sing,
And all the Rivers murmur Thee;
Then ever'y wind the Sound shall upwards bear,
And softly whisper't to some Angels Ear.
Then shall thy Name through all my Verse be spread,
Thick as the flowers in Meadows lye,
And, when in future times they shall be read,
(As sure, I think, they will not dye)
If any Critick doubt that They be mine,
Men by that Stamp shall quickly know the Coyn.
Mean while I will not dare to make a Name
To represent thee by;
Adam (Gods Nomenclator) could not frame
One that enough should signifie.
Astraea' or Caelia as unfit would prove
For Thee, as 'tis to call the Deity, Iove.


SEE where she sits, and in what comely wise,
Drops Tears more fair then others Eyes!
Ah, charming Maid, let not ill Fortune see
Th'attire thy sorrow wears,
Nor know the beauty of thy Tears:
For she'll still come to dress her self in Thee.
As stars reflect on waters, so I spy
In every drop (methinks) her Eye.
The Baby, which lives there, and always playes
In that illustrious sphaere,
Like a Narcissus does appeare,
Whilst in his flood the lovely Boy did gaze.
Nere yet did I behold so glorious weather,
As this Sun-shine and Rain together.
Pray Heav'en her Forehead, that pure Hill of snow,
(For some such Fountain we must find,
To waters of so fair a kind)
Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below.
Ah▪ mighty Love, that it were inward Heat
Which made this precious Limbeck sweat!
But what, alas, ah what does it avail
That she weeps Tears so wondrous cold,
As scarce the Asses hoof can hold,
So cold, that I admire they fall not Hail.


DIscreet? what means this word Discreet?
A Curse on all Discretion!
This barbarous term you will not meet
In all Loves-Lexicon.
Ioynture▪ Portion, Gold, Estate,
Houses, Houshold-stuff, or Land,
(The Low Conveniences of Fate)
Are Greek no Lovers understand.
Believe me, beauteous one, when Love
Enters into a brest,
The two first things it doth remove,
Are Friends and Interest.
Passion's half blind, nor can endure
The careful, scrup'lous Eyes,
Or else I could not love, I'm sure,
One who in Love were wise.
Men, in such tempests tost about,
Will without grief or pain,
Cast all their goods and riches out,
Themselves their Port to gain.
As well might Martyrs, who do choose,
That sacred Death to take,
Mourn for the Clothes which they must lose,
When they're bound naked to the Stake.

The Waiting-Maid.

THy Maid? ah, find some nobler theame
Whereon thy doubts to place;
Nor by a low suspect blaspheme
The glories of thy face.
Alas, she makes Thee shine so fair,
So exquisitely bright,
That her dim Lamp must disappear
Before thy potent Light.
Three hours each morn in dressing Thee,
Maliciously are spent;
And make that Beauty Tyrannie,
That's else a Civil Government.
The'adorning thee with so much art,
Is but a barb'arous skill;
'Tis like the poys'oning of a Dart
Too apt before to kill.
The Mini'string Angels none can see;
'Tis not their beauty'or face,
For which by men they worshipt bee;
But their high office and their place.
Thou art my Goddess, my Saint, Shee;
I pray to Her, onely to pray to Thee.


AH! what advice can I receive?
No, satisfie me first;
For who would Physick-potions give
To one that dyes with Thirst?
A little puff of breath we find,
Small fires can quench and kill;
But when they're great, the adverse wind
Does make them greater still.
Now whilst you speak, it moves me much;
But strait I'm just the same;
Alas, th'effect must needs be such
Of Cutting through a Flame.

The Cure.

COme, Doctor, use thy roughest art,
Thou canst not cruel prove;
Cut, burn, and torture every part,
To heal me of my Love.
There is no danger, if the pain
Should me to'a Feaver bring;
Compar'd with Heats I now sustain,
A Feaver is so Cool a thing,
(Like drink which feaverish men desire)
That I should hope 'twould almost quench my Fire:

The Separation.

ASk me not what my Love shall do or bee
(Love which is Soul to Body, and Soul of Mee)
When I am sep'arated from thee;
Alas, I might as easily show,
What after Death the Soul will do;
Twill last, I'm sure, and that is all we know.
The thing calle'd soul will never stir nor move,
But all that while a liveless Carkass prove,
For 'tis the Body of my Love;
Not that my Love will fly away,
But still continue, as, they say,
Sad troubled Ghosts about their Graves do stray.

The Tree.

I Chose the flour'ishingst Tree in all the Park,
With freshest Boughs, and fairest head;
I cut my Love into his gentle Bark▪
And in three days, behold, 'tis dead;
My very written flames so vi'olent be,
They'have burnt and withere'd up the Tree.
How should I live my self, whose Heart is found
Deeply graven every where
With the large History of many a wound,
Larger then thy Trunk can bear?
With art as strange, as Homer in the Nut,
Love in my Heart has Volumes put.
What a few words from thy rich stock did take
The Leaves and Beauties all?
As a strong Poyson with one drop does make
The Nails and Hairs to fall:
Love (I see now) a kind of Witchcraft is,
Or Characters could ne'r do this.
Pardon ye Birds and Nymphs who lov'd this Shade;
And pardon me, thou gentle Tree;
I thought her name would thee have happy made,
And blessed Omens hop'd from Thee;
Notes of my Love, thrive here (said I) and grow;
And with yee let my Love do so.
Alas poor youth, thy love will never thrive!
This blasted Tree Predestines it;
Go tye the dismal Knot (why shouldst thou live?)
And by the Lines thou there hast writ
Deform'dly hanging, the sad Picture be
To that unlucky Historie.

Her Vnbelief.

'TIs a strange kind of Igno'rance this in you!
That you your Victories should not spy,
Victories gotten by your Eye!
That your bright Beams, as those of Comets do,
Should kill, but not know How, nor Who.
That truly you my Idol might appear,
Whilst all the People smell and see
The odorous flames, I offer thee,
Thou sit'st, and dost nor see, nor smell, nor hear
Thy constant zealous worshipper.
They see't too well who at my fires repine;
Nay th'unconcern'd themselves do prove
Quick-Ey'd enough to spy my Love;
Nor does the Cause in thy Face clearlier shine,
Then the Effect appears in mine.
Fair Infidel! by what unjust decree
Must I, who with such restless care
Would make this truth to thee appear,
Must I, who preach it, and pray for it, be,
Damn'd by thy incredulitie?
I by thy Unbelief am guiltless slain;
Oh have but Faith, and then that you
May know that Faith for to be true,
It shall it self by' a Miracle maintain,
And raise me from the Dead again.
Mean while my Hopes may seem to be o'rthrown;
But Lovers Hopes are full of Art,
And thus dispute, that since my heart
Though in thy Breast, yet is not by thee known,
Perhaps thou may'st not know thine Own.

The Gazers.

COme let's go on, where Love and Youth does call;
I've seen too much, if this be all.
Alas, how far more wealthy might I be
With a contented Ign'orant Povertie?
To shew such stores, and nothing grant,
Is to enrage and vex my want.
For Love to Dye an Infant's lesser ill,
Then to Live long, yet live in Child-hood still.
We'have both sate gazing onely hitherto,
As Man and Wife in Picture do.
The richest crop of Ioy is still behind,
And He who onely Sees, in Love is Blind.
So at first Pigmalion lov'd.
But th'Amour at last improv'd:
The Statue' it self at last a woman grew,
And so at last, my Dear, should you do too.
Beauty to man the greatest Torture is,
Unless it lead to farther bliss
Beyond the tyran'ous pleasures of the Eye.
It grows too serious a Crueltie,
Unless it Heal, as well as strike;
I would not, Salamander-like,
In scortching heats always to Live desire,
But like a Martyr, pass to Heav'en through Fire.
Mark how the lusty Sun salutes the Spring,
And gently kisses every thing.
His loving Beams unlock each mayden flower,
Search all the Treasures, all the Sweets devower.
Then on the earth with Bridegroom-Heat,
He does still new Flowers beget.
The Sun himself, although all Eye he bee,
Can find in Love more Pleasure then to see.

The Incurable.

I Try'd if Books would cure my Love, but found
Love made them Non-sense all.
I'apply'd Receipts of Business to my wound,
But stirring did the pain recall.
As well might men who in a feaver fry,
Mathematique doubts debate,
As well might men, who mad in darkness ly
Write the Dispatches of a State.
I try'd Devotion, Sermons, frequent Prayer,
But those did worse then useless prove;
For Pray'rs are turn'd to Sin in those who are
Out of Charity, or in Love.
I try'd in Wine to drown the mighty care;
But Wine, alas, was Oyl to th' fire.
Like Drunkards eyes, my troubled Fancy there
Did double the Desire.
I try'd what Mirth, and Gayety would do,
And mixt with pleasant Companies;
My Mirth did graceless and insipid grow,
And 'bove a Clinch it could not rise.
Nay, God forgive me for't, at last I try'd
'Gainst this some new desire to stir,
And lov'd again, but 'twas where I espy'd
Some faint Resemblances of Her.
The Physick made me worse with which I strove
This Mortal Ill t'expell,
As wholesome Med'icines the Disease improve,
There where they work not well.


SHE Loves, and she confesses too;
There's then at last, no more to do.
The happy work's entirely done;
Enter the Town which thou hast won;
The fruits of Conquest now begin;
Iô Triumph! Enter in.
What's this, ye Gods, what can it be?
Remains there still an Enemie?
Bold Honor stands up in the Gate,
And would yet Capitulate;
Have I orecome all real foes,
And shall this Phantome me oppose?
Noisy Nothing! Stalking shade!
Py what Witchcraft wert thou made?
Empty cause of Solid harms!
But I shall find out Counter-charms
Thy airy Devi'lship to remove
From this Circle here of Love.
Sure I shall rid my self of Thee
By the Nights obscurity,
And obscurer secresie.
Unlike to every other spright,
Thou attempt'st not men t'affright,
Nor appear'st but in the Light.

The Innocent Ill.

THough all thy gestures and discourses be
Coyn'd and stamp't by Modestie,
Though from thy Tongue nere slipt away
One word which Nuns at th'Altar might not say,
Yet such a sweetness, such a grace
In all thy speech appear,
That what to th'Eye a beauteous face,
That thy Tongue is to th' Ear.
So cunningly it wounds the heart,
It strikes such heat through ev'ery part,
That thou a Tempter worse then Satan art.
Though in thy thoughts scarce any Tracks have bin
So much as of Original Sin,
Such charms thy Beauty wears as might
Desires in dying confest Saints excite.
Thou with strange Adulterie
Dost in each breast a Brothel keep;
Awake all men do lust for thee,
And some enjoy Thee when they sleep.
Ne re before did Woman live,
Who to such Multitudes did give
The Root and cause of Sin, but onely Eve.
Though in thy breast so quick a Pity bee,
That a Flies Death's a wound to thee.
Though savage, and rock-hearted those
Appear, that weep not ev'en Romances woes.
Yet ne'r before was Tyrant known,
Whose rage was of so large extent,
The ills thou dost are whole thine own,
Thou'rt Principal and Instrument,
In all the deaths that come from you,
You do the treble office do
Of Iudge, of Tort'erer, and of weapon too.
Thou lovely Instrument of angry Fate,
Which God did for our faults create!
Thou Pleasant, universal Ill,
Which sweet as Health, yet like a Plague dost kill!
Thou kind, well-natur'ed Tyrannie!
Thou chaste committer of a Rape!
Thou voluntary Destinie,
Which no man Can, or Would escape!
So gentle, and so glad to spare,
So wondrous good, and wondrous faire,
(We know) e'ven the Destroying Angels are.

DIALOGUE. After Enjoyment.

WHat have we done? what cruel passion mov'd thee,
Thus to ruine her that lov'd Thee?
Me thou'hast robb'ed, but what art thou
Thy Self the richer now?
Shame succeeds the short liv'd pleasure;
So soon is spent, and gone, this thy Ill-gotten Treasure.
We'have done no harm; nor was it Theft in mee,
But noblest Charity in Thee.
I'll the well-gotten Pleasure
Safe in my Mem'orie Treasure;
What though the Flower it self do wast,
The Essence from it drawn does long and sweeter last.
No: I'm undone; my Honor Thou hast slain,
And nothing can restore't again.
Art and Labour to bestow,
Upon the Carcase of it now,
Is but t'embalm a body dead,
The Figure may remain, the Life and Beautie's fled.
Never, my dear, was Honor yet undone,
By Love, but Indiscretion.
To th' wise it all things does allow;
And cares not What we do; but How.
Like Tapers shut in ancient Urns,
Unless it let in ayr, for ever shines and burns.
Thou first perhaps who didst the fault commit,
Wilt make thy wicked boast of it.
For Men, with Roman pride, above
The Conquest, do the Triumph love:
Nor think a perfect Victo'ry gain'd,
Unless they through the streets their Captive lead enchain'd.
[Page 77]
Who e're his secret joys has open laid,
The Baud to his own Wife is made.
Beside what boast is left for mee,
Whose whole wealth's a Gift from Thee?
'Tis you the Conqu'eror are, 'tis you
Who have not onely ta'ne, but bound, and gag'd me too.
Though publique pun'ishment we escape, the Sin
Will rack and torture us within:
Guilt and Sin our bosom bears;
And though fair, yet the Fruit appears,
That Worm which now the Core does wast,
When long t'has gnaw'd within will break the skin at last.
That Thirsty Drink, that Hungry Food I sought,
That wounded Balm, is all my fault.
And Thou in pity didst apply,
The kind and onely remedie:
The Cause absolves the Crime; since Mee
So mighty Force did move, so mighty Goodness Thee.
Curse on thine Arts! methinks I Hate thee now;
And yet I'm sure I love Thee too!
I'm angry, but my wrath will prove,
More Innocent then did thy Love.
Thou hast this day undone me quite;
Yet wilt undo me more, should'st thou not come at Night.

Verses lost upon a Wager.

AS soon hereafter will I wagers lay,
'Gainst what an Oracle shall say,
Fool, that I was, to venture to denie
A Tongue so us'd to victorie!
A Tongue so blest by Nature and by Art,
That never yet it spoke but gain'd an Heart:
Though what you said, had not been true
If spoke by any else but you▪
Your speech will govern Destiny,
And Fate will change rather then you should Ly.
'Tis true If Humane Reason were the Guide,
Reason, methinks, was on my side,
But that's a Guide, alas, we must resign,
When th'Authoritie's Divine.
She said, she said herself it would be so;
And I, bold unbeliever answer'd No,
Never so justly sure before
Error the name of Blindness bore,
For whatsoe're the Question be,
There's no man that has eyes would bet for Me.
If Truth it self (as other Angels do
When they descend to humane view)
In a Material Form would daign to shine,
'Twould imitate or borrow Thine,
So daz'eling bright, yet so transparent clear,
So well proportion'd would the parts appear;
Happy the eye which Truth could see
Cloath'd in a shape like Thee,
But happier far the eye
Which could thy shape naked like Truth espy!
Yet this lost wager costs me nothing more
Then what I ow'ed to thee before.
Who would not venture for that debt to play
Which He were bound howere to pay?
If Nature gave me power to write in verse,
She gave it me thy praises to reherse.
Thy wondrous Beauty and Thy Wit
Has such a Sov'eraign Right to it,
That no Mans Muse for publique vent is free,
Till she has paid her Customs first to Thee.

Bathing in the River.

THe fish around her crowded, as they do
To the false light that treach'erous Fishers shew,
And all with as much ease might taken be,
As she at first took me▪
For ne're did Light so clear
Among the waves appear,
Though ev'ery night the Sun himself set there.
Why to Mute Fish should'st thou thy self discover,
And not to me thy no less silent Lover?
As some from Men their buried Gold commit
To Ghosts that have no use of it!
Half their rich treasures so
Maids bury; and for ought we know
(Poor Ignorants) they'r Mermaids all below.
The amo'rous Waves would fain about her stay,
But still new am'orous waves drive them away,
And with swift current to those joys they haste,
That doe as swiftly waste,
I laught the wanton play to view,
But 'tis, alas, at Land so too,
And still old Lovers yield the place to new.
Kiss her, and as you part, you am'orous waves
(My happier Rivals, and my fellow slaves)
Point to your flowry banks, and to her shew
The good your Bounties doe;
Then tell her what your Pride doth cost,
And, how your use and beauty's lost,
When rig'orous Winter binds you up with Frost.
Tell her, her Beauties and her Youth, like Thee
Hast without stop to a devouring sea;
Where they will mixt and undistinguisht ly
With all the meanest things that dy.
As in the Ocean Thou,
No priviledge dost know,
Above th'impurest streams that thither flow.
Tell her, kind flood, when this has made her sad,
Tell her there's yet one Rem'edy to be had;
Shew her how thou, though long since past, dost find
Thy self yet still behind,
Mariage (say to her) will bring
About the self-same thing,
But she, fond Maid, shuts and seals up the spring.

Love given over.

IT is enough; enough of time, and pain
Hast thou consum'd in vain;
Leave, wretched Cowley, leave
Thy self with shadows to deceave;
Think that already lost which thou must never gain.
Three of thy lustiest and thy freshest years,
(Tost in storms of Hopes and Fears)
Like helpless Ships that bee
Set on fire ith' midst o'the Sea,
Have all been burnt in Love, and all been drown'd in Tears.
Resolve then on it, and by force or art
Free thy unlucky Heart;
Since Fate does disapprove
Th'ambition of thy Love.
And not one Star in heav'n offers to take thy part.
If ere I clear my Heart from this desire,
If ere it home to'his breast retire,
It ne'r shall wander more about,
Though thousand beauties call'd it out:
A Lover Burnt like me for ever dreads the fire.
The Pox, the Plague, and ev'ry smal disease,
May come as oft as ill Fate please;
But Death and Love are never found
To give a Second Wound,
We're by those Serpents bit, but we're devour'd by these.
Alas, what comfort is't that I am grown
Secure of be'ing again orethrown?
Since such an Enemy needs not fear
Least any else should quarter there,
Who has not onely Sack't, but quite burnt down the Town.
Pindarique ODES, Wri …

Pindarique ODES, Written in Imitation of the STILE & MANER OF THE ODES OF PINDAR.


HOR. EP. L. 1. 3.
Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit haustus.

LONDON: Printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the sign of the Princes Arms in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1656.


IF a man should undertake to translate Pindar word for word, it would be thought that one Mad-man had translated another; as may appear, when a person who understands not the Original, reads the verbal. Tra­duction of him into Latin Prose, then which nothing seems more Raving. And sure, Rhyme, without the addition of Wit, and the Spirit of Poetry (quod nequio monstrate & sentio tantum) would but make it ten times more Distracted then it is in Prose. We must consider in Pindar the great difference of time betwixt his age and ours, which changes, as in Pictures▪ at least the Colours of Poetry, the no less difference betwixt the Religions and Cu­stoms of our Countreys, and a thousand particularities of places▪ persons, and manners, which do but confusedly appear to our eyes at so great a distance. And lastly, (which were enough alone for my purpose) we must consider that our Ears are strangers to the Musick of his Numbers, which some times (especially in Songs and Odes) almost without any thing else, makes an excellent Poet; for though the Grammarians and Criticks have labored to reduce his Verses into regular feet and measures (as they have also those of the Greek and Latine Comedies) yet in effect they are little better then Prose to our Ears. And I would gladly know what applause our best pieces of English Poesie could expect from a Frenchman or Italian, if converted faithfully, and word for word, into French or Italian Prose. And when we have considered all this, we must needs confess, that after all these losses sustained by Pindar, all we can adde to him by our wit or invention (not deserting still his subject) is not like to make him a Richer man then he was in his own Countrey. This is in some measure to be applyed to all Translations; and the not observing of it, is the cause that all which ever I yet saw, are so much inferior to their Originals. The like happens too in Pictures, from the same root of exact Imitation; which being a vile and unworthy kinde of Servi­tude, is incapable of producing any thing good or noble. I have seen Originals both in Painting and Poesie, much more beautiful then their natural Objects; but I never saw a Copy better then the Original, which indeed cannot be otherwise; for men resolving in no case to shoot beyond the Mark, it is a thousand to one if they shoot not short of it. It does not at all trouble me that the Grammarians perhaps will not suffer this [Page] libertine way of rendring foreign Authors, to be called Translation; for I am not so much enamoured of the Name Translator, as not to wish rather to be Something Better, though it want yet a Name. I speak not so much all this, in defence of my maner of Translating, or Imitating (or what other Title they please) the two ensuing Odes of Pindar; for that would not deserve half these words, as by this occasion to rectifie the opinion of divers men upon this matter. The Psalms of David, (which I believe to have been in their Original, to the Hebrews of his time, though not to our Hebrews of Buxtorfius his making, the most exalted pieces of Poesie) are a great example of what I have said; all the Translators of which (even Mr. Sands himself; for in despight of popular error, I will be bold not to except him) for this very reason, that they have not sought to supply the lost Excellencies of another Language with new ones in their own; are so far from doing honour, or at least justice to that Divine Poet, that, methinks, they revile him worse then Shimei. And Bucanan himself (though much the best of them all, and indeed a great Person) comes in my opinion no less short of David, then his Countrey does of Iudaea. Upon this ground, I have in these two Odes of Pindar taken, left out, and added what I please; nor make it so much my aim to let the Reader know precisely what he spoke, as what was his way and manner of speaking; which has not been yet (that I know of) introduced into English, though it be the noblest and highest kind of writing in Verse; and which might, per­haps, be put into the List of Pancirollus, among the lost Inventions of Antiquity. This Essay is but to try how it will look in an English habit: for which experiment, I have chosen one of his Olympique, and another of his Nemeaean Odes; which are as followeth.


Written in praise of Theron Prince of Agrigentum (a famous City in Sicily built by his Ancestors) who in the seventy seventh Olympique won the Chariot-prize. He is commended from the Nobility of his Race (whose story is often toucht upon) from his great Riches (an ordi­nary Common-Place in Pindar) from his Hospitality, Munificence, and other Virtues. The Ode (according to the constant custom of the Poet) consists more in Digressions, then in the main subject: And the Reader must not be chocqued to hear him speak so often of his own Muse; for that is a Liberty which this kind of Poetry can hardly live without.

1. here
1 QUeen of all Harmonious things,
Dancing Words, and Speaking Strings,
2 What God, what Hero wilt thou sing?
What happy Man to equal glories bring?
Begin, begin thy noble choice,
And let the Hills around reflect the Image of thy Voice.
3 Pisa does to Iove belong,
Iove and Pisa claim thy Song.
4 The fair First-fruits of War, th'Olympique Games,
Alcides offered up to Iove;
Alcides too thy strings may move;
But, Oh, what Man to joyn with these can worthy prove?
Ioyn Theron boldly to their sacred Names;
Theron the next honor claimes;
Theron to no man gives place,
Is first in Pisa's, and in Virtues Race;
Theron there, and he alone,
Ev'en his own swift Forefathers has outgone.
2. here
1 They through rough ways, ore many stops they past,
Till on the fatal bank at last
2 They Agrigentum built, the beauteous Eye
Of fair-fac'ed Sicilie,
Which does it self i'th' River by
With Pride and Ioy espy.
Then chearful Notes their Painted Years did sing,
And Wealth was one, and Honor th'other Wing.
Their genuine Virtues did more sweet and clear,
In Fortunes graceful dress appear.
3 To which great Son of Rhea, say
The Firm Word which forbids things to Decay.
If in Olympus Top, where Thou
Sitst to behold thy Sacred Show,
4 If in Alpheus silver flight,
If in my Verse thou dost delight,
My Verse, O Rhea's Son, which is
Lofty as that, and smooth as This.
3. here
For the past sufferings of this noble Race
(Since things once past, and fled out of thine hand,
Hearken no more to thy command)
Let present joys fill up their place,
1 And with oblivions silent stroke deface
Of foregone Ills the very trace.
In no illustrious line
Do these happy changes shine
More brightly Theron then in thine.
2 So in the Chrystal Palaces
Of the blew-ey'd Nereides
Ino her endless youth does please,
And thanks her fall into the seas.
3 Beauteous Semele does no less
Her cruel Midwife Thunder bless,
Whilst sporting with the Gods on high,
4 She'enjoys secure, their Company,
Plays with Lightnings as they fly,
Nor trembles at the bright Embraces of the Deity.
4. here
But Death did them from future dangers free,
What God (alas) will Caution be
For Living Mans securitie,
Or will ensure our Vessel in this faithless Sea?
Never did the Sun as yet
So healthful a fair day beget,
1 That Travelling Mortals might rely on it.
But Fortunes favour and her Spight
Rowl with alternate Waves like Day and Night.
Vicissitudes which thy great race pursue,
2 Ere since the fatal Son his Father slew,
And did old Oracles fulfill
Of Gods that cannot Lye, for they foretel but their own Will.
5. here
1 Erynnis saw't, and made in her own seed
The innocent Parricide to bleed,
2 She slew his wrathful Sons with mutual blows;
But better things did then succeed,
3 And brave Thersander in amends for what was past arose.
Brave Thersander was by none
In war, or warlike sports out done.
4 Thou Theron his great virtues dost revive,
He in my Verse and Thee again does live.
Loud Olympus happy Thee,
5 Isthmus and Nemea does twice happy see.
For the well-natur'ed honour there
Which with thy Brother thou didst share,
Was to thee double grown
By not being all thine Own.
And those kinde pious glories do deface
The old Fraternal quarrel of thy Race.
6. here
1 Greatness of Mind and Fortune too
The'Olympique Trophees shew.
Both their several parts must doe
In the noble Chase of Fame,
This without that is Blind, that without this is Lame.
Nor is fair Virtues Picture seen aright
But in Fortunes golden light.
Riches alone are of uncertain date,
And on short-Man long cannot wait.
The Vertuous make of them the best,
And put them out to Fame for Interest.
With a frail good they wisely buy
The solid Purchase of Eternity.
They whilst Lifes aire they breath, consider well and know
Th'account they must hereafter give below.
Whereas th'unjust and Covetous above,
In deep unlovely vaults,
By the just decrees of Iove
2 Unrelenting torments prove,
The heavy Necessary effects of Voluntary Faults.
7. here
1 Whilst in the Lands of unexhausted Light
Ore which the God-like Suns unwearied sight,
Nere Sinks in Clouds, or Sleeps in Night,
An endless Spring of Age the Good enjoy,
Where neither Want does pinch, nor Plenty cloy.
There neither Earth nor Sea they plow,
Nor ought to Labour ow
For Food, that whil'st it nour'ishes does decay,
And in the Lamp of Life consumes away.
2 Thrice had these men through mortal bodies past,
Did thrice the tryal undergo,
Till all their little Dross was purg'ed at last,
The Furnace had no more to do.
Then in rich Saturns peaceful state
3 Were they for sacred Treasures plac'ed,
The Muse-discovered World of Islands Fortunate.
8. here
Soft-footed Winds with tuneful voyces there
Dance through the perfum'd Aire.
There Silver Rivers through enameld Meadows glide,
And golden Trees enrich their side.
Th'illustrious Leaves no dropping Autumn fear,
And Iewels for their fruit they bear.
Which by the Blest are gathered
For Bracelets to the Arm, and Guirlands to the Head.
Here all the Hero's, and their Poets live,
1 Wife Rhadamanthus did the Sentence give,
Who for his justice was thought fit
With Soveraign Saturn on the Bench to sit.
Peleus here, and Cadmus reign,
Here great Achilles wrathful now no more,
Since his blest Mother (who before
Had try'ed it on his Body' in vain)
Dipt now his Soul in Stygian Lake,
Which did from thence a divine Hardness take,
That does from Passion and from Vice Invulnerable make.
9. here
To Theron, Muse, bring back thy wandring Song,
Whom those bright Troops expect impatiently;
And may they do so long.
1 How, noble Archer, do thy wanton Arrows fly
At all the Game that does but cross thine Eye?
Shoot, and spare not, for I see
Thy sounding Quiver can nere emptied be;
Let Art use Method and good Husbandry,
Art lives on Natures Alms, is weak and poor;
Nature herself has unexhausted store,
Wallows in Wealth, and runs a turning Maze,
That no vulgar Eye can trace.
Art instead of mounting high,
About her humble Food does hov'ering fly,
2 Like the ignoble Crow, rapine and noise does love,
Whilst Nature, like the sacred Bird of Iove,
3 Now bears loud Thunder, and anon with silent joy
The beauteous Phrygian Boy,
Defeats the Strong, oretakes the Flying prey;
4 And sometimes basks in th'open Flames of Day,
And sometimes too he shrowds,
His soaring wings among the Clouds.
10. here
Leave, wanton Muse, thy roving flight,
To thy loud String the well-fletcht Arrow put,
Let Agrigentum be the But,
And Theron be the White.
And lest the Name of Verse should give
Malitious men pretext to misbelieve,
By the Castalian waters swear,
(A sacred Oath no Poets dare
To take in vain,
1 No more then Gods do that of Styx prophane)
Swear in no City ere before,
A better man, or greater-soul'd was born,
Swear that Theron sure has sworn
No man near him should be poor.
Swear that none ere had such a graceful art,
Fortunes free gifts as freely to impart
With an Unenvious hand, and an unbounded Heart.
11. here
But in this thankless world the Givers
Are envi'ed ev'en by the Receivers.
'Tis now the cheap and frugal fashion,
Rather to Hide then Pay the Obligation.
nay worser much then so
It now an Artifice does grow,
Wrongs and outrages to do,
Lest men should think we ow.
Such Monsters, Theron, has thy Vertue found,
But all the malice they profess,
Thy secure Honor cannot wound:
For thy vast Bounties are so numberless,
That them or to Conceal, or else to Tell,
Is equally Impossible.



1. 1 QUeen of all Harmonious things, Dancing Words, and Speaking Strings, 2 What God, what Hero wilt thou sing?What happy Man to equal glories bring?Begin, begin thy noble choice,And let the Hills around reflect the Image of thy Voice. 3 Pisa does to Iove belong, Iove and Pisa claim thy Song. 4 The fair First-fruits of War, th'Olympique Games, Alcides offered up to Iove; Alcides too thy strings may move;But, Oh, what Man to joyn with these can worthy prove?Ioyn Theron boldly to their sacred Names; Theron the next honor claimes; Theron to no man gives place,Is first in Pisa's, and in Virtues Race; Theron there, and he alone,Ev'en his own swift Forefathers has outgone.PInd. [...].

Hymni-dominantes Cytharae, quem Deum, quem Heroem. quem Virum celebraimus? Pisa quidem Iovis est, Olympicum autem certamen instituit Hercules, primitias belli, sed Theronem ob cursum in quadrigis victorem sonare oportet voce, justum & hospitalem, columen Agrigenti, lauda­torum progenitorum florem▪ rectorem urbium.

1. Whereas Pindar addresses himself to his Song, I change it to his Muse; which, me­thinks, is better called [...], then the Ode which she makes. Some interpret [...] passively (i.) as subjects of the Harp; but the other sense is more Gramma­tical.

2. Horace translates this beginning, Lib. 1. Ode 12. Quem virum aut Heroa Lyrâ vel acri Tibiâ sumes celebrare Clio. Quem Deum cujus resonet jocosa Nomen Imago? The latter part of which I have added to Pindar. Horace inverts the order; but the other is more natural, to begin with the God, and end with the Man.

3. Pisa, a Town in Elis, where the Olympique Games were celebrated every fifth year by the Institution of Hercules, after he had slain Augias Prince of Elis, in honor of Iupiter, sir­named Olympicus from the Mountain Olympus, which is just by Pisa.

4. [...]. First-fruits, from [...] the Top, and [...] an Heap, because they were taken from the Top of the Heap of Corn, &c. Some interpret it, the spoils of war dedicated to the Gods; so the old Greek Scholiast▪ I think the Olympique Games are so called, because they were sacred exercises that disposed and improved men for the war, a Sacred bloodless war, dedicated to the Gods.


2. 1 They through rough ways, ore many stops they past,Till on the fatal bank at last 2 They Agrigentum built, the beauteous Eye Of fair-fac'ed Sicilie, Which does it self i'th' River byWith Pride and Ioy espy.Then chearful Notes their Painted Years did sing,And Wealth was one, and Honor th'other Wing. Their genuine Virtues did more sweet and clear,In Fortunes graceful dress appear. 3 To which great Son of Rhea, sayThe Firm Word which forbids things to Decay. If in Olympus Top, where ThouSitst to behold thy Sacred Show, 4 If in Alpheus silver flight,If in my Verse thou dost delight,My Verse, O Rhea's Son, which is Lofty as that, and smooth as This. [...]. Qui cum multum laborassent animo, sacram obtinuerunt sedem fluvii, Siciliae (que) fuerunt oculus, Vita (que) insequebatur foelix, divitias & gratiam afferns nativis virtutibus. Verum O Saturnie fili Rheae, sedem Olympi habitans, & certaminum summitatem, viám (que) Alphei, delectatus Hymnis, benevo­lus, arvum patrium adhuc ipsis cura & postero generi.

1. They say, that Aemon the Son of Polydorus, the Son of Cadmus, having slain one of his fellow Citizens as he was hunting, fled from Thebes to Athens, afterwards to Rhodes, and from thence into Sicilie, where he built Agrigentum; and from him to Theron, are reckoned many generations; but the progenitors of Theron in a right line, came not thi­ther till a long time after.

2. I rather choose to call Agrigentum, then Therons Ancestors (as Pindar does) the Eye of Sicilie. The Metaphor in this sense is more natural. So Iulian terms Damascus, [...] The Eye of all the East. So Catullus, Sirmion, Insularum ocellum, The Eye of Islands. Agrigentum took the name from the River Acragas. or Agragas, upon which it stands, that from [...] and γή as it were Primaria terra, An especial soil; or from [...] and [...] Land good for the plow. I know very well, that it is not certain that [Page 7] this Town was built by Therons Ancestors; neither do the words of Pindar import more then their dwelling there: nevertheless, the thing being doubtful, I make bold to take that sense which pleases me best.

3. Iuppiter.

4. The River of Elis, by the side of which the Olympique Games were celebrated.


3. For the past sufferings of this noble Race(Since things once past, and fled out of thine hand,Hearken no more to thy command)Let present joys fill up their place, 1 And with oblivions silent stroke defaceOf foregone Ills the very trace. In no illustrious lineDo these happy changes shineMore brightly Theron then in thine. 2 So in the Chrystal Palaces Of the blew-ey'd Nereides Ino her endless youth does please,And thanks her fall into the seas. 3 Beauteous Semele does no lessHer cruel Midwife Thunder bless,Whilst sporting with the Gods on high, 4 She'enjoys secure, their Company,Plays with Lightnings as they fly,Nor trembles at the bright Embraces of the Deity. [...]. Actorum autem vel jure vel injuriâ infectum ne Tempus quidem omnium pater possit reddere operum finem. Sed Oblivio cum sorte prospera fiat. Bonis enim à gaudiis malum molestum domitum perit, quando divina sors mittit de coelo altas divitias. Convenit hic sermo Cadmi filiabus bono solio collo­catis, illae passae sunt magna (mala) sed gravis luctus opprimitur à potioribus bonis. Vivit quidem in coelo mortua fragore fulminis capillis▪ passis Semele▪ Pallas autem illam amat, & maximè Iupiter & filius ejus hederiger. Aiunt etiam in mari cum filiabus Nerei marinis Inoni vitam immortalem constitutam esse per omne tempus.

1. Eurip. says excellently well of Oblivion to this purpose,


O Oblivion the wise Disposer of Evils, and the Goddess propitious to unhappy men!

2. For the examples of the change of great misfortunes into greater felicities, he makes use of the Stories of Ino and Semele; because they were both of Therons race, being the Daughters of Cadmus. Ino, after her husband Athamas in his madness had slain Learchus, be'­lieving him to be a wilde beast, fled with her other son Melicerta, in her arms, to a Rock, and from thence cast herself into the sea; where, at the desire of Venus, Neptune made the childe a God, and her a Goddess of the sea; him by the name of Palaemon, and her of Leuco­thea. See Ovid. Metam. l. 4. The Blew-ey'd Nereides (i.) The Sea-Nymphs, who were the Daughters of Nereus and Doris. Nereus was the son of Oceanus and Thetis, and is taken fi­guratively by the Poets for the sea it self.

3. A known Fable. See Ovid. Metam. l. 3. Semele having made Iupiter promise, that he would deny her nothing, askt that he would lie with her in all his Majestie of the Thunderer, and as he was wont to do with Iuno; which her mortal nature not being able to endure, she was burnt to death with his Thunder and Lightning; but Bacchus her childe, by Iupiter, then in the womb, was saved; for which reason, I call it her Midwife Thunder.

4. Secure. Without fear of being burnt again.


4. But Death did them from future dangers free,What God (alas) will Caution beFor Living Mans securitie,Or will ensure our Vessel in this faithless Sea? Never did the Sun as yetSo healthful a fair day beget, 1 That Travelling Mortals might rely on it.But Fortunes favour and her Spight Rowl with alternate Waves like Day and Night. Vicissitudes which thy great race pursue, 2 Ere since the fatal Son his Father slew,And did old Oracles fulfillOf Gods that cannot Lye, for they foretel but their own Will. [...]. Certe terminus nullus cognoscitur mortalium vitae, ne (que) unquam tranquillum diem, filium Solis, stabili cum bono finiemus. Sed fluxus alias alii cum voluptatibus & laboribus homines invadunt. Sic & fatum, quod paternam hanc habet jucundam sortem cum divitiis à Deo profedite, ali­quam etiam cladem contrariam adducit alio tempore, ex quo fatalis filius occurrens interfecit Laium, & in Pythone editum Oraculum vetus perfecit.

1. Not men that go a journey, but all men, who in this life are termed Viatores, Travellers.

2. Oedipus. Fatal, because of the Predictions. Laius King of Thebes being married to Io­casta the daughter of Creon, enquired of the Oracle concerning his Issue, and was told that he should be slain by it. Whereupon he commanded Iocasta to put to death whatsoever she should bring forth; but she moved with natural compassion, and the great beauty of the Infant, caused one of her servants to expose it in the woods, who making an hole through the feet, hung it by them upon a Tree (from which wound in his feet, he was called Oedipus) and so left it. But Phorbas, chief Herdsman of Polybius; King of Corinth passing by, found the Childe, and presented it to the Queen his Mistress; who having none of her own, look­ed upon it as one given her by the Gods, and bred it up as her son; who being come to mans age, and desirous to know the truth of his birth, enquired it of the Oracle; and was an­swered, that he should meet his father in Phocis; whither he went, and there in a tumult ignorantly slew Laius, and after married his Mother Iocasta, by whom he had Eteocles and Polynices, the latter Therons ancestor.


5. 1 Erynnis saw't, and made in her own seedThe innocent Parricide to bleed, 2 She slew his wrathful Sons with mutual blows;But better things did then succeed, 3 And brave Thersander in amends for what was past arose.Brave Thersander was by noneIn war, or warlike sports out done. 4 Thou Theron his great virtues dost revive,He in my Verse and Thee again does live. Loud Olympus happy Thee, 5 Isthmus and Nemea does twice happy see.For the well-natur'ed honour thereWhich with thy Brother thou didst share,Was to thee double grownBy not being all thine Own. And those kinde pious glories do defaceThe old Fraternal quarrel of thy Race. [...]. Sed intuita Acris Erinnys interfecit ei per mutuam caedem prolem martiam, at relictus est Ther­sander interfecto Polynici juvenilibus & in certaminibus & in pugnis belli honoratus, germen auxiliare Adrastidum domui, a quo seminis habentem radicem decet filium Aenesidami encomiastica carmina lyrás (que) consequi, nam apud Olympiam ipse praemium accepit, apud Pythonam autem &c. Isthmum communes gratiae ad fratrem ejusdem sortis participem flores attulerunt quadrigarum duode­cim cursus conficientium.

1. One may ask, Why he makes mention of these tragical accidents and actions of Oedipus and his Sons, in an Ode dedicated to the praise of Theron and his Ancestors? I an­swer, That they were so notorious, that it was better to excuse then conceal them; for which cause, he attributes them to Fatality; and to mitigate the thing yet more, I adde, The innocent Parricide.

2. Eteocles and Polynices: The war of which two Brethren, and their slaughter of one an­other, is made so famous by Statius his most excellent Poem, that it is needless to tell their History.

3. Thersander, the Son of Polynices by Argia, together with Diomedes, brought an Army against Thebes, to revenge their Fathers deaths, and took it: After that, he carried fifty ships to the siege of Troy, and was at last chosen for his valour to be one of the persons that were shut up in the belly of the wooden Horse, and so enter'd the Town. Virg. l. 2. Aen.

—Laeti se robore promunt,
Thersandrus, Stheneleus (que) Duces, & dirus Vlysses.

4. There are several great actions of Therons mentioned in History, besides his successes in the publique Games, which were in that age, no less honorable then Victories in War; as that he expelled Terillus out of Hymera, which he had usurped, and defeated Hamilcar, Ge­neral of the Carthaginians in Sicilie, the same day that the Greeks overthrew the Persians in that memorable battel of Salamis, Herod. l. 7.

5. Because in the Olympique Games he obtained the victory alone, in those of Nemea and Isthmus joyntly with his Brother, who had shared with him in the expence of setting forth the Chariots.


6. 1 Greatness of Mind and Fortune tooThe'Olympique Trophees shew.Both their several parts must doeIn the noble Chase of Fame, This without that is Blind, that without this is Lame. Nor is fair Virtues Picture seen arightBut in Fortunes golden light. Riches alone are of uncertain date,And on short-Man long cannot wait.The Vertuous make of them the best,And put them out to Fame for Interest. With a frail good they wisely buyThe solid Purchase of Eternity. They whilst Lifes aire they breath, consider well and knowTh'account they must hereafter give below.Whereas th'unjust and Covetous above,In deep unlovely vaults,By the just decrees of Iove 2 Unrelenting torments prove,The heavy Necessary effects of Voluntary Faults. [...].

Successus certaminis dispellit molestias, divitiae autem virtutibus ornatae afferunt (hujas rei) op­portunitatem indagatricem, sustinentes profundam sollicitudinem. (O Divitiae) stella praefulgida, verum homini lumen! qui eas habet, etiam futurum novit, quod mortuorum hîc intractabiles men­tes poenas luunt, & quae fiant in hoc Iovis imperio scelera judicat aliquis, inimicâ sententiam pro­nuntians necessitate.

1. The Connexion of this Stanza is very obscure in the Greek, and could not be ren­dred without much Paraphrase.

2. This is not a Translation of [...], &c. for that is rendred by (Above) but an innocent addition to the Poet, which does no harm, nor I fear, much Good.


7. 1 Whilst in the Lands of unexhausted Light Ore which the God-like Suns unwearied sight,Nere Sinks in Clouds, or Sleeps in Night, An endless Spring of Age the Good enjoy,Where neither Want does pinch, nor Plenty cloy. There neither Earth nor Sea they plow, Nor ought to Labour owFor Food, that whil'st it nour'ishes does decay, And in the Lamp of Life consumes away. 2 Thrice had these men through mortal bodies past,Did thrice the tryal undergo,Till all their little Dross was purg'ed at last,The Furnace had no more to do.Then in rich Saturns peaceful state 3 Were they for sacred Treasures plac'ed,The Muse-discovered World of Islands Fortunate. [...].

At aequaliter noctu semper, aequaliter interdiù Solem habentes non laboriosam boni degunt vitam, ne (que) terram ne (que) marinam aquam vexantes robore manuum inopem propter victum, sed apud hono­ratos deos (vel, Cum its qui honorantur à Diis) illi qui gaudebant fidelitate, illachrymabili fruun­tur aevo, alii autem intolerabilem visu patiuntur cruciatum. Quicun (que) sustinuerunt ter commorati con­tinere animam ab omnibus injustis peregerunt Iovis viam ad Saturni urbem.

1. A description of the Fortunate Islands, or Elysian Fields, so often mentioned by the Poets, and much after this manner. Valer. Hic Lucet via latè Igne Dei, donec silvas & amae­na piorum Deveniant, campós (que) ubi Sol, totúm (que) per annum Durat aprica dies. [Page 9]

Virg. Aen. 6.
Devenere locos laetos & amaena vireta
Fortunatorum nemorum sedés (que) beatas,
Largior hic campos aether, & lumine vestit
Purpureo, Solém (que) suum, sua sidera norunt.

In which Homer shews the way to Pindar, and all. Odyss. 4.

' [...]
' [...],
' [...],
' [...]

2. According to the opinion of Pythagoras, which was much followed by the Poets, and became them better, that souls past still from one body to another, till by length of time, and many pennances, they had purged away all their imperfections. Virg. Aen. 6.

—Pauci laeta arva tenemus,
Donec longa dies perfecto temporis orbe,
Concretam exemit labem, purúm (que) reliquit
Aetherium sensum at (que) aurai simplicis ignem.

And a little before,

—Animae quibus altera fato
Corpora debentur.

But the restriction of this to the third Metempsychosis, I do not remember any where else. It may be thrice is taken here indefinitely for several times, as is most frequent among the Poets.

3. Saturn is said to govern here, because the Golden-Age was under his reign, from the resemblance of the condition of mankind then, to that of the Blessed now in the other World.


8. Soft-footed Winds with tuneful voyces there Dance through the perfum'd Aire.There Silver Rivers through enameld Meadows glide,And golden Trees enrich their side.Th'illustrious Leaves no dropping Autumn fear,And Iewels for their fruit they bear.Which by the Blest are gatheredFor Bracelets to the Arm, and Guirlands to the Head.Here all the Hero's, and their Poets live, 1 Wife Rhadamanthus did the Sentence give,Who for his justice was thought fitWith Soveraign Saturn on the Bench to sit. Peleus here, and Cadmus reign,Here great Achilles wrathful now no more,Since his blest Mother (who beforeHad try'ed it on his Body' in vain)Dipt now his Soul in Stygian Lake, Which did from thence a divine Hardness take,That does from Passion and from Vice Invulnerable make. [...].

Vbi beatorum Insulam Oceanides aurae perflant, florés (que) auri coruscant, alii quidem in humo ab illustribus arboribus, alios autem aqua educat, quorum monilibus manus implicant & corollis (capita) juxta recta decreta Rhadamanthi, quem pater Saturnus maritus Rheae omnium supremum habentis solium, dignum sibi habet Assessorem, Peleus & Cadmus inter hos recensentur, Achillém (que) eò trans­tulit mater, postquam Iovis animum precibus flexit. There follows a Description of Achilles, from the slaughter of Hector, Cygnus, and Memnon, which I thought better to leave out; and instead of it, to adde by what means Thetis made his Soul, that was before so tainted with Anger, Pride and Cruelty, capable of being admitted into this place; which I be­lieved it not improper to attribute to her dipping of it in Styx, as she had formerly done his body, all but his heel, by which she held him, and which was therefore the onely part where he was Vulnerable. That the water of Styx might have the like effects upon his soul, I am authorized to feign, by the common Tradition of the water of Lethe, whose power upon the Soul is no less.

1. Of the three Iudges of the Dead, he names onely one, Virg. Aen. 6. ‘Gnossius haec Rhadamanthus habet durissima regna, &c.’ And the Grammarians derive his name from [...] and [...], from taming men by the seve­rity of his justice. Cadmus was chosen to be named here for one of the Heroes, by an appa­rent reason, Theron being descended from him; as for Peleus and Achilles, there is no parti­cular cause. The Poets imitate sometimes the Divine proceeding, and will have mercy on whom they will have mercy, without any reflecting upon any peculiar merit. It was not hard indeed for those two to be admitted here; for Aeacus, one of the three Iudges, was Fa­ther to the one▪ and Grandfather to the other. I make bold to adde, that the Poets are there too, for Pindars honor, that I may not say, for mine own.

9. To Theron, Muse, bring back thy wandring Song,Whom those bright Troops expect impatiently;And may they do so long. 1 How, noble Archer, do thy wanton Arrows flyAt all the Game that does but cross thine Eye?Shoot, and spare not, for I seeThy sounding Quiver can nere emptied be;Let Art use Method and good Husbandry, Art lives on Natures Alms, is weak and poor; Nature herself has unexhausted store,Wallows in Wealth, and runs a turning Maze, That no vulgar Eye can trace. Art instead of mounting high,About her humble Food does hov'ering fly, 2 Like the ignoble Crow, rapine and noise does love,Whilst Nature, like the sacred Bird of Iove, 3 Now bears loud Thunder, and anon with silent joy The beauteous Phrygian Boy, Defeats the Strong, oretakes the Flying prey; 4 And sometimes basks in th'open Flames of Day, And sometimes too he shrowds,His soaring wings among the Clouds. [...].

[Page 10] Multae mihi sub cubito celeres Sagittae intrà Pharetram sunt sonantes prudentibus, apud vulgus autem interpretibus egent. Sapiens est qui multa novit naturae viribus, qui disciplina utuntur ve­hementes garrulitate sicut Corvi irrita clamant adversus Iovis Avem divinam.

1. The Connexion in the Poet is very obscure. This Metaphor of Quiver and Arrows does much delight him. Olymp. 13. [...]. Me autem rectum telorum mittentem, turbinem praeter scopum non oportet multa tela dirigere manibus. The like is in the first Olympique, and divers other places. Horace in imitation. ‘Pro me reconditum Thalia telum, &c.’

2. Pindar falls frequently into this common place of preferring Nature before Art, as in the first Nemeaean Ode, &c. The Scholiast says, he does it in derogation from his adversary Bacchilides. The comparison of Art to a Crow, and Nature to an Eagle, is very nobly extrava­gant, but it was necessary to enlarge it.

3. The Poets feigned, that the Eagle carried Ioves Thunder, because of the strength, courage and swiftness of that Bird. They likewise feigned, that Iupiter falling in love with Gany­medes▪ the Son of Tros, a most beautiful Boy, carryed him up to heaven upon the back of an Eagle, there to fill Nectar to him when he feasted, and for a more ungodly use. Hor. ‘Expertus fidelem Iupiter in Ganymede flavo.’

4. Nothing but the Eagle is said to be able to look full right into the Sun, and to make that tryal of her young ones, breeding up none but those that can do so.


10. Leave, wanton Muse, thy roving flight,To thy loud String the well-fletcht Arrow put,Let Agrigentum be the But, And Theron be the White. And lest the Name of Verse should giveMalitious men pretext to misbelieve, By the Castalian waters swear,(A sacred Oath no Poets dareTo take in vain, 1 No more then Gods do that of Styx prophane)Swear in no City ere before,A better man, or greater-soul'd was born, Swear that Theron sure has sworn No man near him should be poor. Swear that none ere had such a graceful art,Fortunes free gifts as freely to impartWith an Unenvious hand, and an unbounded Heart. [...].

Intend [...] nunc arcum in scopum; agedum anime mi; Quem petimus ex molli mente gloriosas sagittas mittentes? In Agrigentum dirigens proferam veraci mente jusjurandum peperisse nullam centum annis civitatem vtrum amicis magis benevolum pectore, & minus invidum manu.

1. Virg.

—Stygiám (que) poludem
Dii cujus jurare timent & fallere numen.

Castalian waters. A fountain in Phocis, at the foot of Parnassus, dedicated to Apollo and the Muses; so called from the Virgin Castalia, who flying from Apollo▪ was there turned into a Fountain.


Chromius, the Son of Agesidamus, a yong Gentleman of Sicilie, is cele­brated for having won the prize of the Chariot-Race in the Nemeaen Games (a Solemnity instituted first to celebrate the Funerals of Opheltes, as is at large described by Statius; and afterwards con­tinued every third year, with an extraordinrry conflux of all Greece, and with incredible honor to the Conquerors in all the exercises there practised) upon which occasion, the Poet begins with the commenda­tion of his Countrey, which I take to have been Ortygia (an Island blonging to Sicilie, and a part of Syracuse, being joyned to it by a Bridge) though the title of the Ode call him Aetnaean Chromius, per­haps because he was made Governor of that Town by Hieron. From thence he falls into the praise of Chromius his person, which he draws from his great endowments of Minde and Body, and most especially from his Hospitality, and the worthy, use of his riches. He likeneth his beginning to that of Hercules, and according to his usual maner of being transported with any good Hint that meets him in his way, pas­sing into a Digression of Hercules his slaying the two Serpents in his Cradle, concludes the Ode with that History.

BEauteous Ortygia, the first breathing place
1 Of great Alpheus close and amorous race,
2 Fair Delos Sister, the Childe-Bed
3 Of bright Latona, where she bred
4 The Original New-Moon,
Who saw'st her tender Forehead ere the Horns were grown.
5 Who like a gentle Scion, newly started out,
From Syracusa's side dost sprout.
Thee first my Song does greet
With numbers smooth and fleet,
As thine own Horses airy feet
When they young Chromius Chariot drew,
6 And ore the [...]emeaean race triumphant flew.
Iove will approve my Song and Me,
7 Iove is concern'd in Nemea, and in Thee.
1 With Iove, my Song; this happy man,
Young Chromius too with Iove began;
From hence came his success,
Nor ought he therefore like it less,
Since the best Fame is that of Happiness.
For whom should we esteem above
The Men whom Gods do love.
'Tis them alone the Muse too does approve.
Lo how it makes this victory shine
2 Ore all the fruitful Isle of Proserpine!
The Torches which her Mother brought
When the ravisht Maid she sought,
Appear'd not half so bright,
But cast a weaker light
Through earth, and ayr, and Seas, and up to th'heavenly Vauls▪
1 To thee, O Proserpine, this Isle I give,
Said Iove, and as he said,
2 Smil'd, and bent his gracious Head.
And thou, O Isle, said he, for ever thrive,
And keep the value of our Gift alive.
As Heaven with Stars, so let
The Countrey thick with Towns be set,
And numberless as Stars
Let all the Towns be then
Replenisht thick with Men,
Wise in Peace, and Bold in Wars.
Of thousand glorious Towns the Nation,
Of thousand glorious Men each Towns a Constellation.
Nor let their warlike Lawrel scorn,
3 With the Olympique Olive to be worn,
Whose gentler Honors do so well the Brows of Peace adorn.
1 Go to great Syracuse, my Muse, and wait
At Chromius Hospitable Gate.
'Twill open wide to let thee in,
When thy Lyres voyce shall but begin.
Ioy, Plenty, and free Welcome dwells within.
The Tyrian Beds thou shalt finde ready drest,
The Ivory Table crowded with a Feast.
The Table which is free for every Guest,
No doubt will thee admit,
And feast more upon Thee, then Thou on it.
Cromius and Thou art met aright,
2 For as by Nature thou dost Write,
So he by Nature Loves, and does by Nature Fight.
1 Nature herself, whilst in the womb he was,
Sow'd Strength and Beauty through the forming Mass,
They mov'ed the vital Lump in every part,
And carv'ed the Members out with wondrous art.
She fill'd his Mind with Courage, and with Wit,
And a vast Bounty, apt and fit
For the great Dowre which Fortune made to it.
'Tis Madness sure Treasures to hoord,
And make them useless, as in Mines, remain,
To lose th' Occasion Fortune does afford
Fame, and publick Love to gain.
Even for self-concerning ends;
'Tis wiser much to hoord up Friends.
Though Happy men the present goods possess,
Th'Unhappy have their share in future Hopes no less.
How early has young Chromius begun
The Race of Virtue, and how swiftly run,
And born the noble Prize away,
Whilst other youths yet at the Barriere stay?
1 None but Alcides ere set earlier forth then He;
The God, his Fathers, Blood nought could restrain,
'Twas ripe at first, and did disdain
The slow advance of dull Humanitie,
The big-limm'ed Babe in his huge Cradle lay,
Too weighty to be rockt by Nurses hands,
Wrapt in purple swadling-bands.
When, Lo, by jealous Iuno's fierce commands,
Two dreadful Serpents come
Rowling and hissing loud into the roome.
To the bold Babe they trace their bidden way,
Forth from their flaming eyes dread Lightnings went,
Their gaping Mouths did forked Tongues like Thunderbolts present▪
1 Some of th'amazed Women dropt down dead
With fear, some wildely fled
About the room, some into corners crept,
Where silently they shook and wept.
All naked from her bed the passionate Mother lept
To save or perish with her Child,
She trembled, and she cry'ed, the mighty Infant smil'd.
2 The mighty Infant seem'd well pleas'ed
At his gay gilded foes,
And as their spotted necks up to the Cradle rose,
With his young warlike hands on both he seis'ed;
In vain they rag'd, in vain they hist,
In vain their armed Tails they twist,
And angry Circles cast about,
Black Blood, and fiery Breath, and poys'onous Soul he squeezes out.
1 With their drawn Swords
In ran Amphitryo, and the Theban Lords,
2 With doubting Wonder, and with troubled joy
They saw the conquering Boy
Laugh, and point downwards to his prey,
Where in deaths pangs, and their own gore they folding lay.
3 When wise Tiresias this beginning knew,
He told with ease the things t'ensue,
4 From what Monsters he should free
5 The Earth, the Ayr, and Sea,
6 What mighty Tyrants he should slay,
More Monsters far then They.
7 How much at Phlaegras field the distrest Gods should owe
To their great Off-spring here below,
And how his Club should there outdo,
8 Apollos silver Bow, and his own Fathers Thunder too.
1 And that the grateful Gods at last,
The race of his laborious Virtue past,
Heaven, which he sav'ed, should to him give,
2 Where marry'ed to aeternal Youth he should for ever live;
Drink Nectar with the Gods, and all his senses please
In their harmonious golden Palaces.
Walk with ineffable Delight
Through the thick Groves of never-withering Light,
And as he walks affright
3 The Lyon and the Bear,
Bull, Centaur, Scorpion, all the radiant Monsters there.


1. [...]. Respiramen reverendum Alphei. Alpheus was a River in Elis, which the Poets feigned to have fallen in love with the Nymph Arethusa, whom when he was ready to ravish, Diana turn'd her into a Fountain; which lest her Lover should mix his waters with hers, fled by secret ways under ground, and under the Sea into Sicilie, rising up in the Island Ortygia, whither Alpheus also followed, and there mingled with her.

2. [...]. Deli soror. The Commentator says, because Delos too was called Ortygia. I think, because Apollo was born in Delos, and Diana in Ortygia; therefore by a fi­gure he calls the Islands too, where they were born Sisters. Hom. Hymn.


Which for Pindars sake, I am content to take for this Ortygia, and not that Island among the Cyclades of the same name.

3. [...]. Cubile Artemidis. Because she was born there, I therefore chose ra­ther to call it, Latona's Childebed, then her Bed.

4. Because other New Moons seem but returns of Diana (which is the same with the Goddess Luna) then she had her beginning.

5. [...]. Germen inclytarum Syracusarum, for the reason mentioned in the Argument.

6. [...]. A te [...]a [...]i­loquus Hymn [...]s cum impetu aggreditur exponere magnam laudem procellipedûm equorum in Iovis Aetnaei gratiam, Currus etiam Chromii & Nemea▪ me incitant ut adjungam meum laudatorium melos triumphantibus (certaminum) laboribus.

7. In Nemea; because Hercules having slain the Nemeaean Lyon, did sacrifice Iovi Nem [...]ao▪ and dedicate the Games to him. In Thee: For having given this Island to Proserpine, for Ceres sake, for the birth of Diana; for being himself surnamed (as before) Aetnaean Iupiter, from Aetna, where his Thunder was likewise forged.


1. [...]

Prooemia sumpta sunt à Diis &c. illius viri faelicibus virtutibus, est enim in felicitate summum fasti­gium omnis gloriae.

2. Of these Torches which Ceres lighted at Aetna, and carryed with her all about the world in the search of Proserpine, Claudian speaks thus, L. 3. de R. Proserp.

Quacun (que) it, in aequore fulvis
Adnatat umbra fretis, extremá (que) lucis imago
Italiam Lybiám (que) ferit, clarescit Hetruscum
Littus, & accenso resplendent aequore Syrtes.

At Enna, where Ceres was most religiously worshipped, her Statue was made with Torches in her hands. See Tull▪ 4. Act. in Verr.


1. [...]

Nunc excita splendorem aliquem Insulae quam Olympi Dominus Iupiter dedit Proserpinae & an­nuit capillis se principem fertilis soli Siciliam pinguem exaltaturum celebribus fastigiis civitatum, dedít (que) eis Saturnius populum equis gaudentem, & memorem ferrei belli qui spè etiam foliis aureis Olympiacarum Olivarum se immisceret.

2. [...]. Is very eloquent in the Greek, but I knew not how to [Page 16] render it but by Head. Homer expresses the same sense most excellently. Il. 1.


3. Pindar in his third Olympique, by a great Geographical Error (but pardonable in those times) says, that Hercules obtained of the Hyperboreans at the Fountain of Ister, or the Danube Plants of wilde-Olive, to set about the Temple of Iupiter in Pisa; and ordained, that the Conquerors in those Games should always be crown'd with Garlands of the said Olives, It may be askt, in the celebration of a Nemeaean Victory, why he rather mentions the Olympique Prizes, born away by the Sicilians, then those of Nemea? Some say, that in the Nemeaean Games too, the like Olive-Garlands were used at first before those of Apium; which I hardly believe, if the Institution of them was to celebrate a funeral, as the general opinion is. I think he chooses the Olympique Games, onely because they were the most famous of all.




Steti autem in vestibulo viri hospitalis egregie cantans, ubi mihi conveniens coena adornata est, ne (que) enim frequentium peregrinorum ignarae sunt aedes ejus.

2. [...]. Alias alio­rum artes sunt, sed oportet rectis in viis ambulantem naturâ pugnare.


1. [...]. Auxiliatur enim operi quidem robur, consiliis autem mens, quibus naturalis est futurorum providentia, Tuis autem in moribus, ô Agesidami fili, horum & illorum est usus. Non cupio multas in aedibus divitias absconditas habere, sed ex iis quae adsunt bona percipere, & bené audire amicis subveniens, communes enim veniunt spes aerumnosor [...]m.


1. [...], &c.

Ego autem Herculem amplector libenter in cacuminibus virtutum maximis antiquum proferens sermonem, &c.

Pindar, according to his maner, leaves the Reader to finde as he can, the connexion be­tween Chromius and the story of Hercules, which it seem'd to me necessary to make a little more perspicuous.


1. [...].

Intolerabilis metus percussit mulieres quae inserviebant Alcmenae lecto, quin etiam ipsa sine vestibus prosiliens pedibus è lecto propulsavit injuriam bestiarum.

2. [...]. In thalami penetralia lata venerunt pueris celeres malas circumplicare gestientes, sed ille rectum extendit caput, & specimen primum pugnae edidit. I leave out the mention of his Brother Iphiclus, who lay in the same cradle, because it would but embroil the story, and addes nothing to the simlitude. Pherecides writes, that Amphitryo himself put these Serpents into the Chamber, to try which was his, and which Iupi­ters Son.

1. [...]. Confestim autem Cadmaeorum duces aereis cum armis accurrerunt, Amphitryo quo (que) nudum vaginâ ensem quatiens venit acutis doloribus saucius. I leave out a sentence that follows; which is a wise saying, but, me­thinks, to no great purpose in that place.

2. This is excellently expressed in the Greek, [...]. Constitit autem stupore a cerbo delectabiliq, permixtus.

3. [...]. Vicinum ita (que) advocavit Iovis altissimi Prophetam [Page 17] eximium vera vaticinantem Tiresiam, hic autem ei dixit toti (que) turbae in quibus versaturus esset for­tunis.

4. [...]. Quot in terrâ interfecturus esset quot in mari belluas perniciosas, & cuinam hominum cum obliquâ insolentiâ incedenti, inimicissimo mortem daret, quinetiam cum Dii cum Gyantibus in campo Phlegrae praelio concurrerent, telorum illius impetu praeclaram pulveri commixtum iri illorum comam. Where I have ventured to change what he says of his Darts, into his Club, that being his most famous weapon.

5. The Earth; as the Erymanthian Bore, the Nemeaean Lyons. The Ayr, as the Stymphalian Birds. And the Sea, as the Whale, which the Scholiast says he slew, and cites Homer for the Story.

6. As Antaeus, Busiris, Augias, &c.

7. The place of the battel between the Gods and the Gyants, was Phlegra, a Town in Thrace, where the Earth pronounced an Oracle, that the Gyants could not be destroyed, but by the help of two Heroes, or Half-Gods; for which purpose, the Gods made choice of Her­cules and Bacchus, and by their assistance got the victory. Phlegra is called so, [...], To burn; perhaps, because of the Gyants being destroyed there chiefly by Thunder; or, as others, from Bathes of Hot-water which arise there. Eustathius says, it was likewise cal­led Pallene, and gave occasion to the fable of the Gyants fight, from the wickedness of the Inhabitants.

8. According to Homers ordinary Epithete of Apollo, [...]. Silver-bow'd.


1. [...]. Ipsum verò in pace omne tempus deinceps acturum, tranquillita­tem magnorum laborum praemium eximium consequutum, receptâ in beatis aedibus Hebe coniuge florente, & nuptiis celebratis in domo Iovis venerandi quam ipse admiratione videret.

3. The Names of Constellations, so called first by the Poets, and since retained by the Astronomers. They might be frighted by Hercules, because he was the famous Monster-killer.

The Praise of Pindar. In Imitation of Horace his second Ode, B. 4. Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari, &c.

1 PIndar is imitable by none;
The Phoenix Pindar is a vast Species alone.
Who ere but Daedalus with waxen wings could fly,
And neither sink too low, nor soar too high?
What could he who follow'd claim,
But of vain boldness the unhappy fame,
And by his fall a Sea to name?
Pindars unnavigable Song
Like a swoln Flood from some steep Mountain pours along.
The Ocean meets with such a Voice
From his enlarged Mouth, as drowns the Oceans noise.
So Pindar does new Words and Figures roul
1 Down his impetuous Dithyrambique Tide,
Which in no Channel deigns t'abide,
2 Which neither Banks nor Dikes controul.
Whether th'Immortal Gods he sings
In a no less Immortal strain,
3 Or the great Acts of God-descended Kings,
Who in his Numbers still survive and Reign.
Each rich embroidered Line,
Which their triumphant Brows around,
By his sacred Hand is bound,
4 Does all their starry Diadems outshine.
Whether at Pisa's race he please
1 To carve in polisht Verse the Conquer'ors Images,
2 Whether the Swift, the Skilful, or the Strong,
Be crowned in his Nimble, Artful, Vigorous Song:
3 Whether some brave young mans untimely fate
In words worth Dying for he celebrate,
Such mournful, and such pleasing words,
As joy to'his Mothers and his Mistress grief affords:
He bids him Live and Grow in fame,
4 Among the Stars he sticks his Name:
The Grave can but the Dross of him devour,
So small is Deaths, so great the Poets power.
Lo, how th'obsequious Wind, and swelling Ayr
1 The Theban Swan does upwards bear
Into the walks of Clouds, where he does play,
And with extended Wings opens his liquid way.
Whilst, alas, my tim'erous Muse
Unambitious tracks pursues;
Does with weak unballast wings,
About the mossy Brooks and Springs;
About the Trees new-blossom'ed Heads,
About the Gardens painted Beds,
About the Fields and flowery Meads,
And all inferior beauteous things
Like the laborious Bee,
For little drops of Honey flee,
And there with Humble Sweets contents her Industrie.



1. PIndar was incredibly admired and honored among the Ancients, even to that degree that we may believe, they saw more in him then we do now: Insomuch, that long af­ter his death, when Thebes was quite burnt and destroyed (by the Lacedemonians, and by Alexander the Great) both times the House wherein he had lived was along preserved by pub­lick Authority, as a place sacred and inviolable. Among the very many Elogies of him, I will onely cite that of Quinctilian (then whom no man perhaps ever living was a better Iudge) L. 10. c. 1. Novem Lyricorum longe Pindarus princeps, spiritus magnificentiâ, sententiis, figuris beatissimus, rerum verborúm (que) copiâ & velut quodam eloquentiae flumine, propter quae Horatius ne­mini credit eum imitabilem. Where he applys Horace his similitudes of a River to his Wit; but it is such a River, as when Poetical Fury,

Tanquam fera diluvies quietum
Irritat annem.

And like the rest of that description of the River.

Nunc pace delabentis Hetrusc [...]m
In mare, nunc lapides ades [...]s
Stirpes (que) raptas & pecus & domos
Volventis un [...] non [...]ine montium
Clamore vicinae (que) silvae.

For which reason, I term his Song Vnnavigable; for it is able to drown any Head that is not strong built and well ballasted. Horace in another place calls it a Fountain; from the unex­hausted abundance of his Invention.


1. There are none of Pindars Dithyrambiques extant. Dithyrambiques were Hymus made in honor of Bacchus, who did, [...], came into the world through two Doors, his Mother Semeles Womb, and his Father Iupiters Thigh. Others think, that Dithyrambus was the name of a Theban Poet, who invented that kinde of verse, which others also at­tribute to Arion. Pindar himself in the 13. Olymp. seems to give the Invention to the Corinthians, [...]. Vnde Bacchi ex­ortae sunt venustates cum Boves agente Dithyrambo. For it seems an Ox was given in reward to the Poet; but others interpret [...], from the loud repeating or singing of them. It was a bold, free, enthysiastical kind of Poetry, as of men inspired by Bacchus, that is, Half-Drunk, from whence came the Greek Proverb. [Page 20]

You are as mad as a Dithyrambique Poet.

And another,

There are no Dithyrambiques made by drinking water.

Something like this kinde (but I believe with less Liberty) is Horace his 19 Ode of the 2. B.

Bacchum in remotis carmina r [...]pibus
Vidi docentem, &c.

And neerer yet to it comes his 25 Ode of the 4. B. Quo me Bacche rapis tui plenum? quae n [...] ­mora, aut quos agor in specus, Velooc men [...] nov [...]? For he is presently half-mad, and promises I know not what,

Dicam insigne recens,
Indictum [...]re alio. And,
Nil parvum a [...]t humili modo,
Nil mortale loquar.

And then he ends like a man ranting in his drink, that falls suddenly asleep.

2 Which neither Banks nor Dikes controul. Banks, natural; Dikes, artificial. It will neither be bounded and circumscribed by Na­ture, nor by Art.

3. Almost all the ancient Kings to make themselves more venerable to their subjects, de­rived their pedegree from some God, but at last that would not content them, and they made themselves Gods, as some of the Roman Emperors.

4. Diadems (which were used by the ancient Kings, as Crowns are now, for the Mark of Royalty, and were much more convenient) were bindings of white Ribban about the head, set and adorned with pretious stones; which is the reason I call them Starry Diadems. The word comes [...], To binde about.


1. The Conquerors in the Olympique Games, were not onely Crowned with a Garland of Wilde-Olive, but also had a Statue erected to them.

2. The chief Exercises there were Running, Leaping, Wrestling, the Discus, which was the casting of a great round Stone, or Ball, made of Iron or Brass; The Ce [...]tus, or Whorle-bats, Horse-races, and Chariot-races.

3. For he wrote Threni; or Funeral Elegies: but they are all lost, as well as his Hymns, Tragedies, Encomid, and several other works.

4. So Hor. 1. 4. Od. 25.

Stellis inserere, & concilio Iovis.


1. From the Fabulous, but universally received Tradition of Swans singing most sweetly be­fore their Death (though the truth is Geese and They are alike Melodious) the Poets have assumed to themselves the title of Swans, Hor. 1. 2. Od. 20. would be believed to be Metamor­phosed into one, Iam jam, residunt cruribus asperae Pelles, & album mutor in alitem Superné (or Superna) nascuntúr (que) leves Per digitos humerós (que) plumae. The Anthologie gives the same name to Pindar, [...]. Sweet-tongued Pindar the Heliconian Swan of Thebes. So Virgil is called, Mantuanus olor, The Swan of of Mantua; Theocritus terms the Poets, [...], The Birds of the Muses; which the Commentators say, is in allusion to Swans; to which Callimachus gives the name of [...]; and in another place calls them, [...]. A bold word, which I know not how to render: but they were consecrated to Apollo, and consequently beloved by the Muses and Poets.

The Resurrection.

1 NOt Winds to Voyagers at sea,
Nor Showers to Earth more necessary be,
(Heav'ens vital seed cast on the womb of Earth
To give the fruitful Year a Birth)
Then Verse to Virtue, which does do
The Midwifes Office, and the Nurses too;
It feeds it strongly, and it cloathes it gay,
And when it dyes, with comely pride
Embalms it, and erects a Pyramide
That never will decay
Till Heaven it self shall melt away,
And nought behinde it stay.
Begin the Song, and strike the Living Lyre;
Lo how the Years to come, a numerous and well-fitted Quire,
All hand in hand do decently advance,
And to my Song with smooth and equal measures dance.
1 Whilst the Dance lasts, how long so ere it be,
My Musicks voyce shall bear it companie.
Till all gentle Notes be drown'd
In the last Trumpets dreadful sound.
That to the Spheres themselves shall silence bring,
Untune the Universal string.
Then all the wide extended Sky,
And all th'harmonious Worlds on high,
And Virgils sacred work shall dy.
3 And he himself shall see in one Fire shine
Rich Natures ancient Troy, though built by Hands Divine.
1 Whom Thunders dismall noise,
And all that Prophets and Apostles louder spake,
And all the Creatures plain conspiring voyce,
Could not whilst they liv'ed, awake,
This mightier sound shall make
When Dead t'arise,
And open Tombs, and open Eyes
2 To the long Sluggards of five thousand years.
This mightier Sound shall make its Hearers Ears.
Then shall the scatter'ed Atomes crowding come
Back to their Antient Home,
Some from Birds, from Fishes some,
Some from Earth, and some from Seas,
Some from Beasts, and some from Trees.
Some descend from Clouds on high,
Some from Metals upwards fly,
And where th'attending Soul naked, and shivering stands,
Meet, falute, and joyn their hands.
As disperst Souldiers at the Trumpets call,
Haste to their Colours all.
Unhappy most, like Tortur'ed Men,
Their Ioynts new set, to be new rackt agen.
To Mountains they for shelter pray,
The Mountains shake, and run about no less confus'ed then They.
Stop, stop, my Muse, allay thy vig'orous heat,
Kindled at a Hint so Great.
Hold thy Pindarique Pegasus closely in,
Which does to rage begin,
And this steep Hill would gallop up with violent course,
'Tis an unruly, and a hard-mouth'd Horse,
Fierce, and unbroken yet,
Impatient of the Spur or Bit.
Now praunces stately, and anon flies or the place,
Disdains the servile Law of any settled pace,
Conscious and proud of his own natural force.
'Twill no unskilful Touch endure,
But flings Writer and Reader too that sits not sure.



1. THis Ode is truly Pindarical, falling from one thing into another, after his Enthysiastical manner, and he gives a Hint for the beginning of it in his 14. Olymp. [...] Est aliquando hominibus ventoru [...] usus, aliquando aquarum [...] filtarum nubis, sed siquis cum labore recl [...]e faciat dulces Hymni lli [...] sunt futur [...] a g [...]oriae, & [...]oedus [...]idele faciunt cum mag­nis virtutibus.

1. Whilst the Motion of Time lasts, which is compared to a Dance, from the regular mea­sures of it. 2. According to the ancient opinion of the Pythagoreans, which does much better befit Poetry, then it did Philosophy.

3. Shall see the whole world burnt to ashes like Troy, the destruction of which was so ex­cellently written by him▪ though it was built like Troy too, by Divine hands. The walls of Troy were said to be built by Apollo and Neptune.


1. No natural effect gives such impressions of Divine fear, as Thunder; as we may see by the examples of some wicked Emperors, who though they were Atheists, and made themselves Gods, yet confest a greater divine power when they heard it, by trembling and hiding them­selves, ‘Horat. Coelo Tonantem Credidimus Iovem. And Lucret▪ speaks it of Epicurus, as a thing extraordinary and peculiar of him, that the very sound of Thunder did not make him superstitious,

Quem ne (que) fama Deûm, ne (que) fu [...]nina, hec minitanti
Murmure compr [...]ssit coelum, &c.

Yet the Prophets and Apostles voyce is truly term'd Louder; for as S. Paul says, the voice of the Gospel was heard over all the habitable world, [...].

2. The ordinary Traditional opinion is, that the world is to last six thousand years [...] and that the Seventh Thousand is to be the Rest or Sabboth of Thou­sands: but I could not say, Sluggards of Six thousand years, because some then would be found alive, who had not so much as slept at all. The next Perfect Number (and Verse will admit of no Broken ones) was Five Thousand.

The Muse.

1 GO, the rich Chariot instantly prepare;
The Queen, my Muse, will take the aire,
Unruly Phansie with strong Iudgement trace,
Put in nimble-footed Wit,
Smooth-pac'ed Eloquence joyn with it,
Sound Memory with young Invention place,
Harness all the winged race.
Let the P [...]stillian Nature mount, and let
The Coachman Art be set.
And let the airy Footmen running all beside,
Make a long row of goodly pride.
Figures, Conceits, Raptures, and Sentences
In a well-worded dress.
And innocent Loves, and pleasant Truths, and useful Lies,
In all their gaudy Liveries.
Mount, glorious Queen, thy travelling Throne,
And bid it to put on;
For long, though chearful, is the way,
And Life, alas, allows but one ill winters Day.
Where never Foot of Man, or Hoof of Beast,
The passage prest,
1 Where never Fish did fly,
And with short silver wings cut the low liquid Sky.
2 Where Bird with painted Oars did n'ere
Row through the trackless Ocean of the Air.
Where never yet did pry
The busie Mornings curious Ey.
The Wheels of thy bold Coach pass quick and free;
And all's an open Road to Thee.
Whatever God did Say,
3 Is all thy plain and smooth, uninterrupted way.
Nay ev'n beyond his works thy Voyages are known,
Thou'hast thousand worlds too of thine own.
Thou speakst, great Queen, in the same stile as He,
And a New world leaps forth when Thou say'st, Let it Be.
1 Thou fadom'est the deep Gulf of Ages past,
And canst pluck up with ease
The years which Thou dost please,
Like shipwrackt Treasures by rude Tempests cast
Long since into the Sea,
Brought up again to light and publique Use by Thee.
Nor dost thou onely Dive so low,
But Fly
With an unwearied Wing the other way on high,
2 Where Fates among the Stars do grow;
There into the close Nests of Time do'est peep,
And there with piercing Eye,
Through the firm Shell, and the thick White do'st spie,
Years to come a forming lie,
Close in their sacred Secundine asleep,
Till hatcht by the Suns vital heat
Which ore them yet does brooding set
They Life and Motion get,
And ripe at last with vigorous might
3 Break through the Shell, and take their everlasting Flight.
And sure we may
The same too of the Present say,
If Past, and Future Times do thee obey.
Thou stopst this Current, and dost make
This running River settle like a Lake,
1 Thy certain hand holds fast this slippery Snake.
The fruit which does so quickly waste,
Men scarce can see it, much less taste,
Thou Comfitest in Sweets to make it last.
2 This shining piece of Ice
Which melts so soon away
With the Suns ray,
Thy verse does solidate and Chrystallize.
Till it a lasting Mirror be;
Nay thy Immortal Rhyme
Makes this once short Point of Time,
3 To fill up half the Orb of Round Eternity.



1. Pindar in the 6. Olymp. has a Phansie somewhat of this kind; where he says, [...]. Sed, [...] Phinty, junge jam mihi robur Mularum quibus celeritas est, ut [...] ducamus [...]urrum. Where by the Name of Phintis, he speaks to his own Soul. O, my Soul, joyn me the strong and swift Mul [...]s together, that I may drive the Chariot in this fair way­some make [...] to be a Dialect for [...]: as if he should say. Oh my friend: Others (whom I rather believe) take it for the proper Name of some famous Chariot-driver. The Aurea Carm. use the same Metaphor, [...]. Aurigâ supernè con­stitutâ optimâ ratione; Making right Reason the Chariot-driver of the Soul. Porphyrius calls the Spirits, [...], The Chariot of the Soul.


1. For Fins do the same Office to Fish, that Wings do to Birds; and the Scripture it self gives authority to my calling the Sea the Low Sky; where it says, Gen. 1. 6. Let there be a firmament in the midst of waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.

2. This Metaphor was used by the ancient Poets, Virg. Aen. 1.

Volat ille per aera magnum Remigio alarum.

And elsewhere Lucret. before him, L. 6.

Remigii oblitae pennarum.

Ovid in his Epistic applies the same to Mens Arms.

Ramis ego corporis utar.
I'll use the Bodies Oars.

3. (i.) Whatsoever God made; for his saying, Let it be, made all things. The meaning is that Poetry treats not onely of all things that are, or can be, but makes Creatures of her own, as Centaures, Satyrs, Fairies, &c. makes persons and actions of her own, as in Fables and Ro­mances, makes Beasts, Trees, Waters, and other irrational and insensible things to act above the possibility of their natures, as to understand and speak, nay makes what Gods it pleases too without Idolatry, and varies all these into innumerable Systemes, or Worlds of Invention.

1. That is, The subject of Poetry is all Past, Future and Present Times; and for the Past▪ it makes what choice it pleases out of the wrack of Time of things that it will save from Oblivion.

2. According to the vulgar (but false) opinion of the Influence of the Stars over mens actions and Fortunes. There is no difficulty, I think, in the Metaphor of making a year to come like an Egg that is not yet hatcht, but a brooding.

3. The thin Film with which an Infant is covered in the womb, so called, because it fol­lows the Childe. In Latine Secundae, as in the 9. Epistle of Seneca, where he says most ad­mirably. Sed ut ex barb [...] capillos detonsos negligimus, it [...] divinus ille animus [...]gressurus ho [...]ine [...] quo receptaculum suum referatur, ignis illud exurat, an ferae distrabant, an terra c [...]nteg [...]t non [...] ad se pertinere judicat quam Secund as ad editum infantem.

1. A Snake with the Tail in the Mouth of it, was the ancient Hieroglyphique of the year.

2. Because the course of the Sun seems to consume Time, as the Beams of it do Ice.

3. There are two sorts of Eternity; from the Present backwards to Eternity, and from the Present forwards, called by the Schoolmen Aeternitas à parte ante, and Aeternitas à parte post. These two make up the whole Circle of Eternity, which the Present Time curs like a Diameter, but Poetry makes it extend to all Eternity to come, which is the Half-Circle.

To Mr. Hobs.

VAst Bodies of Philosophie
I oft have seen, and read,
But all are Bodies Dead,
Or Bodies by Art fashioned;
I never yet the Living Soul could see,
But in thy Books and Thee.
'Tis onely God can know
Whether the fair Idea thou dost show
Agree intirely with his own or no:
This I dare boldly tell,
Till so like Truth 'twill serve our turn as well.
Iust, as in Nature thy Proportions be,
As full of Concord their Varietie,
As firm the parts upon their Centre rest,
And all so Solid are that they at least
As much as Nature, Emptiness detest.
1 Long did the mighty Stagirite retain
The Vniversal Intellectual reign,
2 Saw his own Countreys short-liv'ed Leopard slain;
3 The stronger Roman-Eagle did out-fly,
Oftner renewed his Age, and saw that Dy.
4 Mecha it self, in spight of Mahumet possest,
And chas'ed by a wilde Deluge from the East,
His Monarchy new planted in the West.
But as in time each great imperial race,
Degenerates, and gives some new one place:
So did this noble Empire wast,
Sunk by degrees from glories past,
And in the Schoolmens hands it perisht quite at last.
Then nought but Words it grew,
And those all Barb'arous too.
It perisht, and it vanisht there,
The Life and Soul breath'd out, became but empty Air.
The Fields which answer'd well the Ancients Plow,
Spent and out-worn return no Harvest now,
In barren Age wilde and unglorious lie,
And boast of past Fertilitie,
The poor relief of Present Povertie.
Food and Fruit we now must want
Unless new Lands we plant.
We break up Tombs with Sacrilegious bands;
Old Rubbish we remove;
To walk in Ruines, like vain Ghosts, we love,
1 And with fond Divining Wands
We search among the Dead
For Treasures Buried,
Whilst still the Liberal Earth does hold
So many Virgin Mines of undiscover'ed Gold.
1 The Baltique, Euxin, and the Caspian,
And slender-limb'ed Mediterranean,
Seem narrow Creeks to Thee, and onely fit
For the poor wretched Fisher-Boats of Wit.
Thy nobler Vessel the vast Ocean tries,
And nothing sees but Seas and Skies,
Till unknown Regions it descries,
Thou great Columbus of the Golden Lands of new Philosophies.
Thy task was harder much then his,
For thy learn'd America is
Not onely found out first by Thee,
And rudely left to Future Industrie,
But thy Eloquence and thy Wit,
Has planted, peopled, built, and civiliz'd it.
I little thought before,
(Nor being my own self so poor
Could comprehend so vast a store)
1 That all the Wardrobe of rich Eloquence,
Could have afforded half enuff,
Of bright, of new, and lasting stuff,
To cloath the mighty Limbs of thy Gigantique Sence.
2 Thy solid Reason like the shield from heaven
To the Trojan Heroe given,
Too strong to take a mark from any mortal dart,
Yet shines with Gold and Gems in every part,
And Wonders on it grave'd by the learn'd hand of Art,
A shield that gives delight
Even to the enemies sight,
Then when they're sure to lose the Gombate by't.
Nor can the Snow which now cold Age does shed
Upon thy reverend Head,
Quench or allay the noble Fires within,
But all which thou hast bin,
And all that Youth can be thou'rt yet,
So fully still dost Thou
Enjoy the Manhood, and the Bloom of Wit,
And all the Natural Heat, but not the Feaver too.
So Contraries on Aetna's top conspire,
Here hoary Frosts, and by them breaks out Fire.
A secure peace the faithful Neighbors keep,
Th'emboldned Snow next to the Flame does sleep.
And if we weigh, like Thee,
Nature, and Causes, we shall see
That thus it needs must bee,
To things Immortal Time can do no wrong,
1 And that which never is to Dye, forever must be Young.



1. ARistotle; So called from the Town of Stagira, where he was born, situated near the Bay of Strimon in Matedonia.

2. Outlasted the Graecian Empire, which in the Visions of Daniel, is represented by a Leopard, with four wings upon the back, and four Heads, Chap. 7. v. 6.

3. Was received even beyond the bounds of the Roman Empire, and out-lived it.

4. For Aristotles philosophy was in great esteem among the Arabians or Saracens, wit­ness those many excellent Books upon him, or according to his principles, written by Averroes, Avicenna, Avempace, and divers others. In spight of Mahumet: because his Law, being adapted to the barbarous humor of those people he had first to deal withal, and aiming onely at greatness of Empire by the sword, forbids all the studies of Learning; which (nevertheless) flourished admirably under the Saracen Monarchy, and continued so, till it was extinguisht with that Empire, by the Inundation of the Turks, and other Nati­ons. Mecha, is the Town in Arabia where Mahumet was born.


1. Virgula Divina; or a Divining Wand is a two-forked branch of an Hazel-tree, which is used for the finding out either of Veins, or hidden Treasures of Gold or Silver; and being carryed about, bends downwards (or rather is said to do so) when it comes to the place where they lye.


1. All the Navigation of the Ancients was in these Seas: they seldom ventured into the Ocean; and when they did, did onely Littus leger [...], coast about near the shore.


1. The meaning is, that his Notions are so New, and so Great, that I did not think it had been possible to have found out words to express them clearly; as no Wardrobe can furnish Cloaths to fit a Body taller and bigger then ever any was before for the Cloathes were made according to some Measure that then was.

2. See the excellent description of this Shield, made by Vulcan at the request of Venus, for her Son Aeneas, at the end of the 8 Book of Aen.

—Et [...]lypei non enarrabile textum,

Whereon was graven all the Roman History; and withal, it was so strong, that in the [...]2 B. when Turnus strook with all his force (which was not small you may be sure in a Poetical Hero) [Page 29]

—Corpore toto
Aliè sublatum consurgit Turnus in ensem.

Insomuch, that it frighted all Aeneas his friends.

(Exclament Troes trepidi (que) Latini)

Instead of piercing through these arms,

Perfidus ensis
Frangitur, in medio (que) ardentem deserit ictu,
Ni fuga subsidio subeat.

Which is just the case of mens arguing against Solid, and that is, Divine Reason; for when their argumentation is broken, they are forced to save themselves by flight, that is, by eva­sions, and seeking still new ground; and this Sword did Turnus good service upon the rest of the Trojans.

Isq, diu, dum terga dabant palantia Teucri
Suffecit, postquam arma Dei ad Vulcania ventum est.
Mortalis Mucr [...] glaciet cum fusilis ictu

It broke like a piece of Ice, when it met with the Arms of Vulcan.


1. The Description of the Neighborhood of Fire and Snow upon Aetna (but not the ap­plication of it) is imitated out of Claud. L. 1. De Raptu Pros.

Sed quamvis nimio servens exuberet aestu,
Scit nivibus servare fidem, pariter (que) favilia
Durescit glacies, tanti secuta vaporia
Arcano defensa gelu, fumo (que) fideli
Lambit contiguit innoxia flamma pristinas:

Where, methinks, is somewhat of that which Seneca objects to Ovid. Nescivit quod bené cessit relinquere. When he met with a Phrase that pleased him, he could not finde in his heart to quit, or ever to have done with it. Tacinus has the like expression of Mount Libanus, Pra­cipuum montium Libanum, mirum dictu, tantos inter ardores opacum, fid [...]m (que) rivibus. Shady among such great heats, and faithful to the Snow; which is too Poetical for the Prose even of a Romance, much more of an Historian. Sil. Italic. of Aene. L. 14.

Summo cana jugo cohibet (mirabile dictu)
Vicinam flammis glaciem, aeterno (que) rigore
Ardentes horrent scopuli, stat vertice celsi
Collis hyems, calid [...] (que) nivem regit [...] favill [...].

See likewise Seneca, Epist. 79.


‘Hoc quo (que) Fatale est sic ipsum expendere Fatum.’Manil.
1 STrange and unnatural! lets stay and see
This Pageant of a Prodigie.
Lo, of themselves th'enlivened Chesmen move,
Lo, the unbred, ill-organ'd Pieces prove,
As full of Art, and Industrie,
Of Courage and of Policie,
As we our selves who think ther's nothing Wise but We.
2 Here a proud Pawn I'admire
That still advancing higher
At top of all became
Another Thing and Name.
Here I'm amaz'ed at th'actions of a Knight,
That does bold wonders in the fight.
Here I the losing party blame
3 For those false Moves that break the Game,
That to their Grave the Bag, the conquered Pieces bring.
And above all, th'ill Conduct of the Mated King.
What ere these seem, what ere Philosophie
And Sense or Reason tell (said I)
These Things have Life, Election, Libertie;
'Tis their own Wisdom molds their State,
Their Faults and Virtues make their Fate.
They do, they do (said I) but strait
Lo from my'enlightned Eyes the Mists and shadows fell
That hinder Spirits from being Visible.
And, lo, I saw two Angels plaid the Mate.
With Man, alas, no otherwise it proves,
An un seen Hand makes all their Moves.
And some are Great, and some are Small,
Some climb to good, some from good Fortune fall,
Some Wisemen, and some Fools we call,
1 Figures, alas, of Speech, Destiny plays us all.
Me from the womb the Midwife Muse did take:
She cut my Navel, washt me, and mine Head
With her own Hands she Fashioned;
She did a Covenant with me make,
And circumcis ed my tender Soul, and thus she spake,
Thou of my Church shalt be,
Hate and renounce (said she)
Wealth, Honor, Pleasures, all the World for Me.
Thou neither great at Court, nor in the war,
Nor at th'Exchange shalt be, nor at the wrangling Bar.
Content thy self with the small Barren Praise,
That neglected Verse does raise.
She spake, and all my years to come
Took their unlucky Doom.
Their several ways of Life let others choose,
Their several pleasures let them use,
But I was born for Love, and for a Muse.
With Fate what boots it to contend▪
Such I began, such am, and so must end.
The Star that did my Being frame,
Was but a Lambent Flame,
And some small Light it did dispence,
But neither Heat nor Influence.
No Matter, Cowley; let proud Fortune see,
That thou canst her despise no less then she does Thee.
Let all her gifts the portion be
Of Folly, Lust, and Flattery,
Fraud, Extortion, Calumnie,
Murder, Infidelitie,
Rebellion and Hypocrisie.
Do Thou nor grieve nor blush to be,
As all th'inspired tuneful Men,
And all thy great Forefathers were from Homer down to Ben.



1. THis Ode is written upon an extravagant suppositon of two Angels playing a Game at Chess; which if they did, the spectators would have reason as much to believe, that the pieces moved themselves, as we can have for thinking the same of Mankinde, when we see them exercise so many, and so different actions. It was of old said by Plautus, Dii nos quasi Pilas homines habent. We are but Tennis Balls for the Gods to play withal, which they strike away at last, and still call for new ones: And S. Paul says, We are but the Clay in the hands of the Potter.

2. For a Pawn being the least of the pieces, if it can get up to such a degree, grows the greatest, and then has both another name, and other Motions and Powers; for it becomes a Queen, which it could never have done, if it had not been removed, and carried to such an height,

3. Manum injicientibus fatis (says Amm. Marcellin.) hebetantur sensus hominum & obtund [...] ­tur. When the Fates lay hold on a Man, when they arrest him, he's confounded, and loses his wits. And Vell. Paterc. speaking of the defeat of Quinctil. Varus. Praevalebant jam fata consiliis omném (que) animi vim perstri [...]xerant, quippe it [...] seres habet▪ [...]ut qui fortunam m [...]ta­turus sit, etiam consilia corrumpat. Fatality grew too strong for Humane Counsels and dazled the sight of his judgement, for so it also happens, that the designs and counsels are corrupt­ed of the Man that is to perish.


1. [...]. The Dice of the Gods neverfling out. Thucydid. says, with admirable shortness and weight, [...]: Which Sallust imitating, renders yet shorter; and beats him, as Seneca says, at his own weapon. Ress [...]cundae mirè vitiis sunt obtentui. Faults are not visi­ble through Prosperity: and therefore the old Greek Verse is not much mistaken, that says,


I had rather have a Drop of good fortune, then a whole Tun of Wisdom.


EXcellent Brutus, of all humane race,
The best till Nature was improv'ed by Grace,
Till men above themselves Faith raised more
Then Reason above Beasts before.
Virtue was thy Lifes Centre, and from thence
Did silently and constantly dispense
The gentle vigorous Influence
To all the wide and fair Circumference,
And all the parts upon it lean'd so easilie,
Obey'd the mighty force so willinglie
That none could discord or disorder see
In all their Contrarietie.
Each had his motion natural and free,
And the Whole no more mov'ed then the whole world could bee.
From thy strict rule some think that thou didst swerve
(Mistaken Honest men) in Caesars blood;
What Mercy could the Tyrants Life deserve,
From him who kill'd Himself rather then serve?
Th' Heroick Exaltations of Good
Are so farre from Understood.
We count it Vice, alas our Sight's so ill,
That things which swiftest Move seem to stand still,
We look not upon Virtue in her height,
On her supreme Idea, brave and bright
In the Original Light
But as her Beams reflected pass
Through our own Nature or ill Customs Glass.
And 'tis no wonder so,
If with dejected Ey
In standing Pools we seek the sky,
That Stars so high above should seem to us below.
Can we stand by and see
Our Mother robb'ed, and bound, and ravisht bee,
Yet not to her assistance stir,
Pleas'd with the Strength and Beauty of the Ravisher?
Or shall we fear to kill him, if before
The cancell'd Name of Friend he bore?
Ingrateful Brutus do they call?
Ingrateful Caesar who could Rome enthral!
And act more barbarous and unnatural
(In th'exact ballance of true Virtue try'de)
Then his Successor Nero's Parricide!
There's none but Brutus could deserve
That all men else should wish to serve,
And Caesars usurpt place to him should proffer;
None can deserve't but he who would refuse the offer.
Ill Fate assum'ed a Body thee t'affright,
And wrapt it self i'th' terrors of the night,
I'll meet thee at Philippi, said the Spright;
I'll meet thee there, saidst Thou,
With such a voyce, and such a brow,
As put the trembling Ghost to sudden flight,
It vanisht as a Tapers light
Goes out when Spirits appear in sight▪
One would have thought to had heard the morning crow,
Or seen her well-appointed Starre
Come marching up the Eastern Hill afarre,
Nor durst it in Philippi's field appeare,
But unseen attaqu'ed thee there.
Had it presum'ed in any shape thee to oppose,
Thou wouldst have forc'ed it back upon thy foes:
Or slain't like Caesar, though it be
A Conqu'eror and a Monarch mightier far then He.
What joy can humane things to us afford,
When we see perish thus by odde events,
Ill men, and wretched Accidents,
The best Cause and best Man that ever drew a Sword?
When we see
The false Octavius, and wilde Antonie,
God-like Brutus, conquer Thee?
What can we say but thine own Tragick Word,
That Virtue, which had worshipt been by thee
As the most solid Good, and greatest Deitie,
By this fatal proof became
An Idol onely, and a Name,
Hold noble Brutus and restrain
The bold voyce of thy generous Disdain:
These mighty Gulphs are yet
Too deep for all thy Iudgement and thy Wit.
The Time's set forth already which shall quell
Stiff Reason, when it offers to Rebell.
Which these great Secrets shall unseal,
And new Philosophies reveal.
A few years more, so soon hadst thou not dy'ed,
Would have confounded Humane Virtues pride,
And shew'd thee a God crucifi'ed.

To Dr. Scarborough.

HOw long, alas, hath our mad Nation been
Of Epidemick War the Tragick Scene,
Whilst Slaughter all the while
Seem'd like its Sea, to embrace round the Isle,
With Tempests, and red waves, Noise, and Affright?
Albion no more, nor to be nam'ed from white!
What Province, or what City did it spare?
It, like a Plague, infected all the Aire.
Sure the unpeopled Land
Would now untill'd, desert, and naked stand,
Had Gods All-mighty hand
At the same time let loose Diseases rage
Their Civil Wars in Man to wage.
But Thou by heaven wert sent
This Desolation to prevent,
A Medicine and a Counter-poyson to the Age,
Scarce could the Sword dispatch more to the Grave
Then Thou didst save;
By wondrous Art, and by successful care
The Ruines of a Civil War thou dost alone repair.
1 The Inundations of all Liquid pain,
And Deluge Dropsie thou do'est drain.
Feavers so hot that one would say
Thou mightst as soon Hell-fires allay
(The Damn'd scarce more incurable then They)
2 Thou dost so temper, that we find
Like Gold the Body but refin'd;
No unhealthful dross behind.
The subtle Ague, that for sureness sake
Takes his own times th' assault to make,
And at each battery the whole Fort does shake,
When thy strong Guards, and works it spies,
Trembles for it self, and flies.
The cruel Stone that restless pain
That's sometimes roll'd away in vain,
3 But still, like Sisyphus his stone, returns again,
Thou break'st and meltest by learn'd Iuyces force,
(A greater work, though short the way appear,
4 Then Hannibals by Vinegar)
Oppressed Natures necessary course
It stops in vain, like Moses, Thou
S'trik'st but the Rock, and straight the Waters freely flow.
The Indian Son of Lust, that foul Disease
Which did on this his new-found World, but lately sease;
Yet since a Tyrannie has planted here,
As wide and Cruel as the Spaniard there,
Is so quite rooted out by Thee,
That thy Patients seem to bee
Restor'ed not to Health onely, but Virginitie,
The Plague himself, that proud Imperial Ill
Which destroys Towns, and does whole Armies kill,
If thou but succour the besieged Heart,
Calls all his poysons forth, and does depart,
As if he fear'd no less thy Art,
Then Aarons Incense, or then Phineas dart.
What need there here repeated be by me
The vast and barbarous Lexicon
Of Mans Infirmitie?
At thy strong charms it must be gon
Though a Disease, as well as Devil, were called Legion.
From creeping Moss to soaring Cedar thou,
Dost all the powers and several Portions know,
Which Father-Sun, and Mother-Earth below
On their green Infants here bestow.
Can'st all those Magick Virtues from them draw,
That keep Disease, and Death in aw.
Who whilst thy wondrous skill in Plants they see,
Fear lest the Tree of Life should be found out by Thee.
And Thy well-travell'd knowledge too does give
No less account of th' Empire Sensitive,
Chiefly of Man, whose Body is
That active Souls Metropolis.
1 As the great Artist▪ in his Sphere of Glass
Saw the whole Scene of Heav'enly Motions pass,
So thou know'st all so well that's done within,
As if some living Chrystal Man thou'dst seen.
Nor does this Science make thy Crown alone,
1 But whole Apollo is thine owne.
His gentler Arts, belov'ed in vain by Mee,
Are wedded and enjoy'd by Thee.
Thou'rt by this noble Mixture free
From the Physitians frequent Maladie,
Fantastick Incivilitie,
There are who all their Patients chagrin have,
As if they took each morn worse potions then they gave.
And this great race of Learning thou hast runne,
Ere that of Life be half yet done.
Thou see'st thy self still fresh and strong,
And like t'enjoy thy Conquests long.
2 The first fam'ed Aphorism thy great Master spoke,
Did he live now he would revoke,
And better things of Man report;
For thou do'est make Life long, and Art but short.
Ah, learned friend, it grieves me, when I think▪
That Thou with all thy Art must dy
As certainly as I.
1 And all thy noble Reparations sink
Into the sure-wrought Mine of treacherous Mortality,
Like Archimedes, honorably in vain,
2 Thou holdst out Towns that must at last be ta'ne
And Thou thy self their great Defendor slain.
Let's ev'en compound, and for the Present Live,
'Tis all the Ready Money Fate can give,
Unbend sometimes thy restless care;
And let Thy Friends so happy bee
T'enjoy at once their Health and Thee.
Some hours at least to thine own pleasures spare.
Since the whole stock may soon exhausted be,
Bestow't not all in Charitie.
Let Nature, and let Art do what they please,
When all's done, Life is an Incurable Disease.



1. GOwts, and such kind of Diseases proceeding from moysture, and affecting one or some parts of the Body, whereas the Dropsie swells the whole. Inundation signifies a less overflowing then Deluge.

2. Find, Refind: These kind of Rhymes the French delight in, and call Rich Rhymes; but I do not allow of them in English, nor would use them at all in any other but this free kinde of Poetry, and here too very sparingly, hardly at all without a third Rhyme to answer to both; as in the ninth slaffe of the Nemeaan Ode, Delight, Light, Affright. In the third staffe to Mr. Hobs, Ly, Fertility, Poetry. They are very frequent in Chaucer, and our old Poets, but that is not good authority for us now. There can be no Musick with onely one Note.

3. The Fable of Sisiphus is so known, that it deserves not to be repeated. He was in his life a most famous Cozener and Robber. Ovid. Metam. 13.

Quid sanguine cretus
Sisiphio, furtis ac fraude simillimus illi?

For which he was slain by Theseus, and condemned in Hell to thrust eternally, a great rolling stone up and hill, which still fell down again upon him, alluding perhaps to the ill success of all his subtilties and wicked enterprizes, in which he laboured incessantly to no purpose.

4. Hannibal not being able to march with his Army over some Rocks in his passage on the Alpes, made fires upon them, and when the stone was very hot, poured a great quan­tity of Vinegar upon it, by which it being softned and putrified, the Souldiers by that means were enabled to cut a way through it. See Livy the I. Book of the 3. Decade. Iuven.

Et montem rupit aceto.


1. Archimedes: of which Sphere see Claudines Epigram: The like Sphere of Glass one of the Kings of Persia is said to have had, and sitting in the middle of it, as upon the Earth, to have seen round about him all the Revolutions and Motions of the heavenly Bodies.


1. For Apollo is not onely the God of Physick, but of Poetry, and all kinde of Florid Letters.

2. The first Aphorism in Hippocrates, Ars Longa, vita brevis. Known to all men.


1. For whilst we are repairing the outward seeming Breaches, Nature is undermining the very foundations of life, and draining the Radical M [...]isture, which is the Well that the Town lives by.

2. The great City of Syracuse (which Tully calls in his fourth against Verres, Vrbem omnium pulcherrimam at (que) ornatissimam) sustained a Siege of three years against Marcellus and the Roman Forces, almost onely by the art and industry of the wonderful Mathema­tician Archimedes; but at last, by the treason of some Commanders, it was entred and taken by the Romans, and in the confusion of the Sack, Archimedes, the honorable Defendor of it so long, being found in his study drawing Mathematical Lines for the making of some new Engines to preserve the Town, was slain by a common Souldier, who knew him not; for there had been particular order given by the Roman General to save him. See this at large in Plut. the life of Marcellus and Livy 5 B. of the 3. Dec.

Life and Fame.

1 OH Life, thou Nothings younger Brother!
So like, that one might take One for the other!
2 What's Some Body, or No Body?
3 In all the Cobwebs of the Schoolmens trade,
We no such nice Distinction woven see,
As 'tis To be, or Not to Bee.
4 Dream of a Shadow! a Reflection made
From the false glories of the gay reflected Bow,
Is a more solid thing then Thou.
5 Vain weak-built Isthmus, which dost proudly rise
Up betwixt two Eternities;
Yet canst nor Wave nor Wind sustain,
But broken and orewhelm'd the endless Oceans meet again.
1 And with what rare Inventions do we strive,
Our selves then to survive?
Wise, subtle Arts, and such as well befit
2 That Nothing Mans no Wit.
3 Some with vast costly Tombs would purchase it,
And by the proofs of Death pretend to Live.
4 Here lies the Great—False Marble, where?
Nothing but small and sordid Dust lies there.
Some build enormous Mountain Palaces,
The Fools and Architects to please.
A lasting Life in well-hew'en Stone they rear,
1 So he who on th' Egyptian shore,
Was slain so many hundred years before,
Lives still (Oh Life most happy and most dear!
2 Oh Life that Epicures envy to hear!)
Lives in the dropping Ruines of his Amphitheater.
1 His Father in Law an higher place does claim
2 In the Seraphique Entity of Fame.
He since that Toy his Death,
Does fill all Mouthes, and breathes in all mens Breath.
'Tis true, the two Immortal Syllables remain,
But, Oh ye learned men, explain,
What Essence, what Existence this,
What Substance, what Subsistence, what Hypostasis
In Six poor Letters is?
In those alone does the Great Caesar live,
'Tis all the Conquered World could give.
We Poets madder yet then all,
With a refin'ed Phantastick Vanitie,
Think we not onely Have, but Give Eternitie.
Fain would I see that Prodigal,
Who his To-morrow would bestow,
For all old Homers Life ere since he Dy'ed till now.



1. BEcause Nothing preceded it, as Privation does all Being; which perhaps is the sense of the Distinction of Days in the story of the Creation, Night signifying the Privation, and Day, the subsequent Being, from whence the Evening is placed first, Gen. 1. 5. And the Evening and the Morning were the first day.

2. [...]. Pindar, Quid est Aliquis, aut quid est Neme? Somnium Vmbrae▪Homo est.

3. The Distinctions of the Schoolmen may be likened to Cobwebs (I mean many of them. for some are better woven) either because of the too much fineness of the work which makes it slight, and able to catch onely little Creatures; or because they take not the materials from Nature, but spin it out of Themselves.

4. The Rainbow is in it self of No Colour; those that appear are but Reflections of the Suns light received differently,

Mille trahit varios adverso Sole Colores.

As is evident by artificial Rainbows; And yet this shadow, this almost Nothing makes some­times another Rainbow (but not so distinct or beautiful) by Reflection.

5. Isthmus is a neck of Land that divides a Peninsula from the Continent, and is betwixt two Seas, [...]. In which manner this narrow passage of Life divides the Past Time from the Future, and is at last swallowed up into Eternity.


1. Pompey the Great.

2. An Irony; that is, Oh Life which Epicures laugh at and contemn.


1. Caesar, whose Daughter Iulia was married to Pompey; an Alliance fatal to the Com­monwealth; which as Tully says, ought never to have been made, or never ended.

2. Supernatural, Intellectual, Unintelligible Being.

The Extasie.

I Leave Mortality, and things below;
I have no time in Complements to waste,
Farewel to'ye all in haste,
For I am call'd to go.
A Whirlwind bears up my dull Feet,
Th'officious Clouds beneath them meet.
And (Lo!) I mount, and (Lo!)
How small the biggest Parts of Earths proud Tittle show!
Where shall I find the noble Brittish Land?
Lo, I at last a Northern Spec espie,
Which in the Sea does lie,
And seems a Grain o'th' Sand!
For this will any sin, or Bleed?
Of Civil Wars is this the Meed?
And is it this, alas, which we
(Oh Irony of Words!) we call Great Britainie▪
I pass by th'arched Magazins, which hold
Th'eternal stores of Frost, and Rain, and Snow;
Dry, and secure I go,
Nor shake with Fear, or Cold.
Without affright or wonder
I meet Clouds charg'd with Thunder,
And Lightnings in my way
Like harmless Lambent Fires about my Temples play.
Now into'a gentle Sea of rowling Flame
I plunge my'ascents, and still mount higher there,
As Flames mount up through aire.
So perfect, yet so tame,
So great, so pure, so bright a fire
Was that unfortunate desire,
My faithful Breast did cover,
Then, when I was of late a wretched Mortal Lover.
Through several Orbs which one fair Planet bear,
Where I behold distinctly as I pass
The Hints of Galilaeos Glass,
I touch at last the spangled Sphaere.
Here all th'extended Skie
Is but one Galaxie,
'Tis all so bright and gay,
And the joynt Eyes of Night make up a perfect Day.
Where am I now? Angels and God is here;
An unexhausted Ocean of delight
Swallows my senses quite,
And drowns all What, or How, or Where.
Not Paul, who first did thither pass,
And this great Worlds Columbus was,
The tyrannous pleasure could express.
Oh 'tis too much for Man! but let it nere be less.
The mighty' Elijah mounted so on high,
That second Man, who leapt the Ditch where all
The rest of Mankinde fall,
And went not downwards to the skie.
With much of pomp and show
(As Conquering Kings in Triumph go)
Did he to Heav'en approach,
And wondrous was his Way, and wondrous was his Coach.
'Twas gawdy all, and rich in every part,
Of Essences of Gems, and Spirit of Gold
Was its substantial mold;
Drawn forth by Chymique Angels art.
Here with Moon-beams 'twas silver'd bright,
There double-gilt with the Suns light
And mystique Shapes cut round in it,
Figures that did transcend a Vulgar Angels wit.
The Horses were of temper'd Lightning made,
Of all that in Heav'ens beauteous Pastures feed,
The noblest, sprightfulst breed,
And flaming Mains their Necks array'd.
They all were shod with Diamond,
Not such as here are found,
But such light solid ones as shine
On the Transparent Rocks o'th' Heaven Chrystalline.
Thus mounted the great Prophet to the skies;
Astonisht Men who oft had seen Stars fall,
Or that which so they call,
Wondred from hence to see one rise.
The soft Clouds melted him a way,
The Snow and Frosts which in it lay
A while the sacred footsteps bore,
The Wheels and Horses Hoofs hizz d as they past them ore.
He past by th' Moon, and Planets, and did fright
All the Worlds there which at this Meteor gaz'ed,
And their Astrologers amaz'd
With th'unexampled sight.
But where he stopt will nere be known,
Till Phoenix Nature aged grown
To'a better Being do aspire,
And mount herself, like Him, to'Eternitie in Fire.

To the New Year.

1 GReat Ianus, who dost sure my Mistris view
With all thine eyes, yet think'st them all too few:
If thy Fore-face do see
No better things prepar'ed for mee,
Then did thy Face behind,
If still her Breast must shut against me bee
2 (For 'tis not Peace that Temples Gate does bind)
Oh let my Life, if thou so many deaths a coming find,
With thine old year its voyage take
Born down, that stream of Time which no return can make.
Alas, what need I thus to pray?
Th'old avaritious year
Whether I would or no, will bear
At least a part of Me away.
His well-horst Troops, the Months▪ and Days, and Hours,
Though never any where they stay,
Make in their passage all their pray.
The Months, Days, Hours that march i'th'Rear can find
Nought of Value left behind.
All the good Wine of Life our drunken youth devours;
Sowreness and Lees, which to the bottom sink,
Remain for latter years to Drink.
Until some one offended with the taste
The Vessel breaks, and out the wretched Reliques run at last.
If then, young year, thou needs must come,
(For in Times fruitful womb
The Birth beyond his Time can never tarry,
Nor never can miscarry)
Choose thy Attendants well; for 'tis not Thee
We fear, but 'tis thy Companie,
Let neither Loss of Friends, or Fame, or Libertie,
Nor pining Sickness, nor tormenting Pain,
Nor Sadness, nor uncleanly Povertie,
Be seen among thy Train,
Nor let thy Livery be
Either black Sin, or gawdy vanitie;
Nay, if thou lov'est me, gentle Year,
Let not so much as Love be there:
Vain fruitless Love, I mean; for, gentle Year,
Although I feare,
There's of this Caution little need,
Yet, gentle Year, take heed
How thou dost make
Such a Mistake.
Such Love I mean alone
As by thy cruel Predecessors has been showne,
For though I'have too much cause to doubt it,
I fain would try for once if Life can Live without it.
Into the Future Times why do we pry,
And seek to Antidate our Misery?
Like Iealous men why are we longing still
To See the thing which onely seeing makes an Ill?
'Tis well the Face is vail'd; for 'twere a Sight▪
That would even Happiest men affright,
And something still they'd spy that would destroy
The past and Present Ioy
In whatsoever Character;
The Book of Fate is writ,
'Tis well we understand not it,
We should grow Mad with little Learning there.
Upon the Brink of every Ill we did Foresee,
Undecently and foolishlie
We should stand shivering, and but slowly venter
The Fatal Flood to enter,
Since willing, or unwilling we must do it,
They feel least cold and pain who plunge at once into it.



1. IAnus was the God to whom the Year was dedicated, and therefore it began with his Festival; and the first Moneth was denominated from him; for which cause he was re­presented with two Faces, to shew that he looked both Backward upon the time past, and Forward upon the time to come; and sometimes with four Faces, to signifie (perhaps, for I know other Reasons are given) the four Seasons of the year,

Annorum niditi (que) sator pulcherrime Mundi,
Publica quem primum vota prec [...]s (que) canunt. Mart.

2. This alludes to that most notorious custom of Shutting up Ianus his Temple in time of an universal peace; as was thrice done from Numa to Augustus his reign: and when any War began it was opened again with great Ceremony by the chief Magistrate; from which open­ing and shutting of his Temple gates, Ianus is called Clu [...]ius and Patulcius, and esteemed Deus belli ac pacis arbiter.


‘Nascentes Morimur▪’Manil.
1 VVE're ill by these Grammarians us'd;
We are abus'd by Words, grosly abus'd;
From the Maternal Tomb,
To the Graves fruitful Womb,
We call here Life; but Life's a name
That nothing here can truly claime:
This wretched Inn, where we scarce stay to baite,
We call our Dwelling-place;
We call one Step a Race:
But Angels in their full enlightned state,
Angels who Live, and know what 'tis to Bee,
2 Who all the nonsense of our Language see,
Who speak Things, and our Words, their ill-drawn Pictures scorn,
When we by'a foolish Figure say,
3 Behold an old man Dead! then they
Speak properly, and cry, Behold a man-childe born.
My Eyes are opened, and I see
Through the Transparent Fallacie:
Because we seem wisely to talk
Like men of business; and for business walk
From place to place,
And mighty voyages we take,
And mighty Iourneys seem to make,
1 Ore Sea and Land, the little Point that has no space.
Because we fight, and Battels gain;
Some Captives call, and say, the rest are slain.
Because we heap up yellow Earth, and so,
Rich, valiant, wise, and vertuous seem to grow;
Because we draw a long Nobilitie
From Hieroglyphick proofs of Heraldrie,
And impudently talk of a Posteritie,
2 And, like Egyptian Chroniclers,
Who write of twenty thousand years,
With Marauedies make the' account,
3 That single Time might to a sum amount,
4 We grow at last by Custom to believe,
That really we Live.
Whilst all these Shadows that for Things we take,
Are but the empty Dreams within Deaths sleep we make.
But these fantastique errors of our Dream,
Lead us to solid wrong▪
We pray God▪ our Friends torments to prolong,
And wish uncharitably for them,
To be as long as Dying as Methusalem.
The ripened Soul longs from his pris▪on to come,
But we would seal, and sow up, if we could, the Womb.
We seek to close and plaster up by Art
The cracks and breaches of the' extended Shell,
And in that narrow Cell
Would rudely force to dwell,
The noble vigorous Bird already wing'd to part.



1. PLato in Timaeus makes this distinction: That which Is, but is not generated; and That which is generated, but Is not, [...]. This he took from Trismegistus. whose Sentence of God was written in the Egyptian Temples, [...] ▪ I am all that Was, Is, or shall be. And he drew this from the very fountain where he calls himself, Exod. 3. 12. [...], I am that I am, or, That which is. This doctrine of Plato, that nothing truly Is but God, is approved by all the Fathers. Simplicius explains it thus, That which has more degrees of Privation, or Not-Being then of Being (which is the case of all Creatures) is not properly said to Be; and again, That which is in a perpetual Fieri or Making, never is quite Made; and therefore never properly Is. Now because this perperual Flux of Being is not in Angels, or Scparated Spirits, I allow them the Title of Being and Living, and carry not the Figure (for in truth it is no other) so far as Plato.

2. That the Gods call things by other names then we do, was the fancy of Homer,


And the like in several other places, as also in other Authors, Athenaeus, l. 7. c. 9. Ovid. Metam. &c. and this is likewise drawn from Scripture; for Isaiah (Chap. 40. v. 36.) makes it a Property of God, that he calls the Stars by their Names.

3. So Euripid.


Who knows whether to Live, be not to Dy; and to Dye to Live?


1. Isa. 40. 26. Behold the Nations are as the drop of a Bucket, and are counted as the small Dust of the Ballance, &c.

2. Because Heraldry consists in the Figures of Beasts, Stars, Flowers, and such like, as the Hieroglyphicks did of the ancient Egyptians.

3. An uncertain Number for a Certain. The Egyptian Kingdom, according to Manethon, had 31 Dynasties before Alexanders time, 5355 years; others content not themselves with so small a Number; for Diod. says, lib. 1. from Osyris to Alexander, they reckon above ten thousand years; or as others will have it, little less then 23 thousand. See the Egyptian Priests discourse to Solon in Plato's Timaeus. But these vast accounts arose from the aequi­vocal term of a year among them, which sometimes they made Solar, sometimes of Four, sometimes of Three, nay, Two, or One Month. Xenoph. de Tempor. Aquin. Solin. c. 7. Plin. l. 7. c. 11. Macrob. in Somn. Scipion. &c.

4. A Spanish Coyn, one of the least that is.

The 34 Chapter of the Prophet Isaiah.

1 AWake, and with attention hear,
Thou drowsie World, for it concerns thee near;
Awake, I say, and listen well,
To what from God, I, his loud Prophet, tell.
Bid both the Poles suppress their stormy noise,
And bid the roaring Sea contain his voyce.
Be still thou Sea, be still thou Air and Earth,
2 Still, as old Chaos, before Motions birth,
A dreadful Host of Iudgements is gone out;
In strength and number more
Then ere was rais'd by God before,
To scourge the Rebel World, and march it round about.
1 I see the Sword of God brandisht above;
And from it streams a dismal ray;
2 I see the Scabbard cast away.
How red anon with Slaughter will it prove!
How will it sweat and reek in blood!
3 How will the Scarlet Glutton be oregorged with his food!
And devour all the mighty Feast!
Nothing soon but Bones will rest.
God does a solemn Sacrifice prepare;
4 But not of Oxen, nor of Rams,
Not of Kids, nor of their Dams,
Not of Heifers, nor of Lams.
The Altar all the Land, and all Men in't the Victims are,
Since wicked Mens more guilty blood to spare,
The Beasts so long have sacrificed bin,
Since Men their Birthright forfeit still by Sin,
5 'Tis fit at last Beasts their Revenge should have,
And Sacrificed Men their better Brethren save.
So will they fall, so will they flee;
Such will the Creatures wilde distraction bee,
When at the final Doom,
Nature and Time shall both be Slain,
Shall struggle with Deaths pangs in vain,
And the whole world their Funeral Pile become.
here The wide-stretcht Scrowl of Heaven, which wee,
1 Immortal as the Deity think,
2 With all the beauteous Characters that in it
With such deep Sense by Gods own Hand were writ,
Whose Eloquence though we understand not, we admire,
Shall crackle, and the parts together shrink
3 Like Parchment in a fire.
4 Th'exhausted Sun to th'Moon no more shall lend;
But truly then headlong into the Sea descend.
The glittering Host, now in such fair array,
So proud, so well appointed, and so gay,
Like fearful Troops in some strong Ambush ta'ne,
5 Shall some fly routed, and some fall slaine,
6 Thick as ripe Fruit, or yellow Leaves in Autumn fall,
With such a violent Storm as blows down Tree and all.
And Thou, O cursed Land,
Which wilt not see the Precipice where thou dost stand,
Though thou standst just upon the brink;
Thou of this poysoned Bowl the bitter Dregs shalt drink:
Thy Rivers and thy Lakes shall so
With humane blood oreflow.
That they shall fetch the slaughter'd corps away,
Which in the fields around unburied lay,
And rob the Beasts and Birds to give the Fish their prey.
The rotting corps shall so infect the aire;
Beget such Plagues, and putrid Venomes there,
That by thine own Dead shall be slain,
All thy few Living that remain.
1 As one who buys, Surveys a ground,
So the Destroying Angel measures it around.
So careful and so strict he is,
Lest any Nook or Corner he should miss.
He walks about the perishing Nation,
Ruine behind him stalks and empty Desolation.
1 Then shall the Market and the Pleading-place
Be choakt with Brambles and oregrown with grass.
The Serpents through thy Streets shall rowl,
And in thy lower rooms the Wolves shall howl,
2 And thy gilt Chambers lodge the Raven and the Owl,
And all the wing'd Ill-Omens of the aire,
Though no new-Ills can be fore-boded there.
The Lyon then shall to the Leopard say,
Brother Leopard come away;
Behold a Land which God has giv'en us in prey!
Behold a Land from whence we see
Mankinde expulst, His and Our common Enemie!
3 The Brother Leopard shakes himself, and does not stay.
6. here
2 The glutted Vulturs shall expect in vain
New Armies to be slain.
Shall finde at last the business done,
Leave their consumed Quarters, and be gone.
3 Th'unburied Ghosts shall sadly moan,
The Satyrs laugh to hear them groan.
The Evil Spirits that delight
To dance and revel in the Mask of Night,
The Moon and Stars, their sole Spectators shall affright.
And if of lost Mankind
Ought happen to be left behind,
If any Reliques but remain,
They in the Dens shall lurk, Beasts in the Palaces shall raign.



1. COme near ye Nations to hear, Isa ch: 34. v. 1. Terra & plenitudo ejus, and hearken ye people, let the Earth hear, and all that is therein; the world, and all things that come forth of it. 2. For the Indignation of the Lord is upon all Nations, and his fury upon all their Armies; he hath utterly destroyed them, he hath delivered them to the slaughter.

The manner of the Prophets writing, especially of Isaiah, seems to me very like that of Pindar; they pass from one thing to another with almost Invisible connexions, and are full of words and expressions of the highest and boldest flights of Poetry, as may be seen in this Chapter. Where there are as extraordinary Figures as can be found in any Poet whatsoever; and the connexion is so difficult, that I am forced to adde a little, and leave out a great deal to make it seem Sense to us, who are not used to that elevated way of expression. The Commentators differ, and some would have it to be a Prediction of the destruction of Iudea, as Hugo, Lyran, and others; the rest understand it as a Prophesie of the Day of Iudgement. The design of it to me seems to be this, first to denounce great desolations and ruines to all Countreys, and then to do it more particularly to Iudaea, as which was to suffer a greater measure of them then the rest of the world; as it has done, I think, much more then any other Land under the Sun; and to illustrate these confusions by the similitude of them to those of the last Day, though in the Text there be no Transition from the subject to the similitude; for the old fashion of writing, was like Disputing in Enthymemes, where half is left out to be supplyed by the Hearer: ours is like Syllogisms, where all that is meant is express.

2. For as soon as Motion began, it ceased to be Chaos, this being all Confusion, but Na­tural Motion is regular: I think I have read it somewhere called [...]. The Scripture says, And darkness was upon the face of the earth, and the spirit of God moved upon the waters. So that the first Motion, was that of the Spirit of God upon Chaos, to which suc­ceeded the Motion in Chaos. And God said (that is, the Motion of the Spirit of God, for it is a Procession of his will to an outward Effect) let there be light, and there was light (that is, the first Motion of Chaos.)


1. Ver. 5. For my sword shall be bathed in heaven, behold it shall come down upon Idumea, and upon the people of my curse to Iudgement. 6. The sword of God is filled with blood, it s made fat with fatness, and with the blood of Lambs, and Goats, with the fat of the Kidneys of Rams; for the Lord has a Sacri­fice in Bozrah, and a great slaughter in the Land of Idumea. Quoniam inebriatus est in coelo gladius meus, & sup. populum interfectiones meae ad judicium. Incrassatus est adipe.

I have left out the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth Verses; in which, where the Prophet says Vnicorns and Bulls, I take that to be a Metaphor onely of Great Tyrants, and men of the mightiest power; the Horn signifying that in Hebrew, and other Languages too; as Horace, Addet cornua pauperi, &c. [Page 51] And the year of recompences for the controversie of Sion, Annus retributionis judicii Sion. This makes Vatabl. Montan. Sanchez, and divers other interpret, Iudicium Sionis, the Iudge­ment which God shall exercise against the Idumaeans in revenge of Sion; but I take it rather to be, This is the year when Sion shall be judged for her Iudgement; that is, for the con­demnation and execution of her Messias, who likewise foretels the same things; as Isaiah, concerning the destruction of Ierusalem, and even in the same manner, part of the threat­nings seeming to belong particularly to Ierusalem, and part being onely applicable to the Day of Iudgement. Observe this remarkable conformity in the 24 of Matthew.

2. As not intending to put it up again, or to be ever reconciled; in which sense it was said, as I take it, to the great Duke of Guise, that he who draws his sword against his Prince, should fling away the Scabbard.

3. For the Text says, it is made drunk with blood, and made fat with flesh. Like the rich Glutton in the Gospel, who is described to be cloath'd with Purple.

4. The Text seems to say quite contrary to this, It shall be made fat with fatness, and with the blood of Lambs and Goats, and kidney of Rams, &c. But the names of Beasts in that place must necessarily be understood, as put for Men; all sorts of Men. Cornel. à Lap. says, that by Lambs are signified the Common People; by Goats, the Captains and Princes; by Rams, the Magistrates. But these two last interpretations of Goats and Rams, seem very slight and forced; the meaning is, that all sorts of men shall be sacrificed to Gods justice, as Lambs, Goats, and Rams were wont to be. It may be askt, Why Idumaea and Bozra (the Metropolis of it) are here particularly mentioned? Is it not with allusion to the Names? for Idumaea (or Edom) signifies Red, a Countrey that shall be red with bloodshed; and Bozra signi­fies a Strong fortified Place. So that in the 108. Psalm, v. 10. where we read, Who will bring me into the Strong City; the Hebrew is, Who will bring me into Bozra? From which word too by a Metathesis of the Letters, some derive Byrsa, the strong Castle of Carthage, which was founded by the Phaenicians, and therefore it is more likely the Castle should have a Phaenician (which Language is said to have been little different from the Hebrew) then a Graecian name, to wit, from [...], an Hide, because Dido is reported to have bought of Iarbas as much ground as could be compast with an Oxes hide, which cut into very narrow thongs, took up the whole space where she built the Castle. Virg.

Mercati (que) solum facti de nomine Byrsam,
Taurino quantum possent circumdare tergo.

Wherefore under the name of Bozra, the Prophet threatens all strong Places, and more especially of Iudaea, which God will make an Edom, or red, or bloody Countrey.

5. Though Beasts were first created in time, yet because Man was first and chiefly designed, and they onely in order to him, the right of Primogeniture belongs to him; and therefore all Beasts at first obeyed and feared him. We need not be angry, or ashamed to have them called our Brethren; for they are literally so, having the same Creator or Father; and the Scripture gives us a much worse kindred; I have said to Corruption, thou art my Father; and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister. Iob 17. v. 14.


The wide-stretcht Scrowl of Heaven, which wee,Verse 4. And all the host of heaven shall be dissolved,* and the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroull, and all their Host shall fall down as the leaf falleth from the vine, and as a falling fig from the Fig-tree. * Et complicabuntur sicut Liber Coeli, &c. D. Thomas Hug. and divers others, in­terpret this to be an Hyperbolical expression of the calamities of those times; which shall be so great, that men shall think the world at an end, and shall be so distracted, that the heavens shall seem to be rolled together, and the stars to fall. But, methinks, it is more naturally taken for a real description of the end of the world, but by way of a Similitude, to illustrate the confusions that are foretold.

1. The vulgar opinion, and that of Aristotle, and most Philosophers, hath always been, that the Heavens are Immutable and Incorruptible, nay, even Immaterial; in which, though experience it self of visible Mutations in them (as: the production and extinction two years after of the New-star in Cassiopaeâ [...] might sufficiently by natural reason convince them, yet some men are so given up even to the most reprobate senses of Aristotle, that not so much as the Divine Authority can draw them from it; as in this point Suarez, and many others, are so far from the opinion of the Heavens being now Corruptible and Mutable, that they will allow them to be changed onely Accidentally (as they call it) and not Substantially at the last Day. Of which Maldon. upon S. Matth. says well, That he had rather believe Christ who affirms it, then Aristotle who denies it.

2. The Stars may well be termed Characters or Letters, where the Heavens are called a Scroul, or Book, in which perhaps Mens fortunes, Gods Glory is certainly written; and in this sense the Psalmist speaks, The heavens shall declare his righteousness. Origen cites a Book of great authority in his days, called Narratio Ioseph, in which Iacob says to his Sons, Legi [...] in tabulis coeli quaecun (que) contingent vobis & filiis vestris.

3. The Text is, rolled up like a Scroul, or rather Book; for the ancient Books were not like ours, divided into leaves; but made of sheets, of skins, or parchment, and rolled upon a Cilinder, after the fashion of our Maps. So that when they had read them, they [Page 52] rolled them up again, as God will the Heavens, when he has done with them. But I thought that this comparison of Parchment that shrivels up in the fire does more represent the vio­lence of their destruction, which is to be by burning.

4. He supplies now the Moon and Stars that shine by reflection from him, but then shall want light for himself. In those days the Sun shall be darkned, and the Moon shall not give her light. Mat. 24. Where I take Her to have an Emphasis; even her own little Light: for I believe the Moon and Stars not to be totally opaque and dark bodies.

Truly, is Emphatical; for according to the fables, whensoever he sets, he descends into the Sea, but now he really does so; that is, he will be mingled with the Sea and Earth, and all other things that must then be dissolved: And the Heathens had both this opinion of the end of the world, and fell almost into the same expressions. As Lucan.

Mistis Sidera sideribus concurrent, Ignea pontum
Astra petent—

St. Matthew and Mark, And the stars of heaven shall fall; and here, Their host shall fall down &c. Sen. ad Marc. Sidera sideribus incurrent, & omni flagrante materiá, uno igne, quicquid nunc ex disposito lucet, ardebit. And one might cast up a pedantical heap of authorities to the same purpose.

5. It is, I hope, needless to admonish any tolerable Reader, that it was not negligence or ignorance of Number, that produced this Stumbling Verse, no more then the other before, And truly then headlong into the Sea descend. And several others in my book of the like kind.

6. That of the wind is added to the Text here, but taken out of another just like it in the Revelations, Chap. 6. v. 13. And the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig-tree casteth her untimely figs when she is shaken of a mighty wind. And there follows too the similitude of the Scroll.


1. Verse 11. And he shall stretch out upon it the Line of confusion, and the Stones of Emptiness. The Latine very differently, Et extendetur super eam mensura, ut redigatur ad nihil, & perpendi­culum in desolationem. The Metaphor is, that as a Carpenter draws a Line to mark exactly the space that he is to build, so God does here, to mark that which he is to destroy.

Our Translation follows Vatabl. Extendet super eam regulam inanitatis, & lapides vacuitatis. Which stones of emptiness may have two interpretations, either making the Stones, Termini, that is Bound-stones of Desolation, as if he should say, This is the land of Desolation, and I have set these bounds and limits to circumscribe it. Or else he says, the Stones of Emptiness, is an effect of Desolation; for when a ground is uncultivated and abandoned, it grows stony. According to the vulgar Latine Translation it is very like another Text of Isaiah, Ch. 28. v. 17. Iudgement also will I lay to the Line, and righteousness to the Plummet. Which is no more in plain language, then, I will be exact in Iudgement and Righteousness. There is a much harder Text with the same Metaphor in 2 Sam. 8. Ch. 2. Verse. And he smote Moab, and mea­sured them with a Line, casting them down to the ground, even with two lines measured he to put to Death, and with one full Line to keep alive; And so the Moabites became Davids servants, and brought gifts, Which some interpret, that he put two parts of them to the sword, and saved the third, who became his servants. And that he did this, not by a just account, or pol­ling of them (for the number was too great) but by measuring out the Land into three parts, and destroying two of them, 2 King. 21. 13. I will stretch over Ierusalem the Line of Sa­maria, and the Plummet of the House of Abab, and I will wipe Ierusalem as a man wipeth a dish wiping and turning it upside down. The Latine, Pondus domus Achab: and instead of a dish▪ uses a more noble Metaphor of a Table-book. Delebo Ierusalem sicut deleri solent Tabula, & delens ver­tam. & ducam crebrius stilum super faciem ejus.


1. Verse 11. The Cormorant and the Bittern shall possess it, the Owl and the Raven shall dwell in it. V. 15. And thorns shall come up in her Palaces, and Brambles in the fortresses thereof; and it shall be an habitation for Dragons, and a Court for Owls.

Et possidebunt illam Onocrotalus & Ericius, Ibis & Corvus habitabunt in eâ, V. 13. Et ori­entur in domibus ejus spinae & urticae, & paliurus in munitionibus ejus, & erit cubile Draco­num & pascua struthionum. The Cormorant is called Onocrotalus, from [...] an Ass, and [...], Noise▪ because it makes a noise like the braying of an Ass. I know not whether we are in the right, who translate it a Bittern, or the Latin, which calls it Ericius, an Hedge­hog. Ericius among the Classick Authors, signifies an Instrument of war, made with iron pikes, like Palissadees sticking out of it. Some think a Percullis, from the similitude of which, Echinus was in the time of corrupted Latine, called Ericius. Ibis is a Bird like a Stork most known in Egypt, and worshipt there, because it kills multitudes of Serpents, which would else infest the Countrey. We erroneously translate it Owl, for mention of Owls is made afterwards. I do nor use the same names of Beasts and Birds exactly which the Prophet does; nor is that material; for the meaning onely is, that the Land shall be possest by Beasts instead of Men.

2. [Page 53] Of Birds from which the Ancients took auguries: Some were called Oscines, from whose voyces they drew their divinations, and other Praepetes, from their manner of flight, Crows, Swallows, Kites, Owls, and such like, were counted inauspicious Birds; and others (as Vulturs) in some cases portended good, and in others evil.

3. Though the Lyon might call any Beast Brother, yet it may more properly the Leopard; for the Leopard is begot of a Lyoness, and a hee-Panther, which is called Pardus.


6. 2 The glutted Vulturs shall expect in vainNew Armies to be slain.Shall finde at last the business done,Leave their consumed Quarters, and be gone. 3 Th'unburied Ghosts shall sadly moan,The Satyrs laugh to hear them groan.The Evil Spirits that delightTo dance and revel in the Mask of Night, The Moon and Stars, their sole Spectators shall affright.And if of lost Mankind Ought happen to be left behind,If any Reliques but remain, They in the Dens shall lurk, Beasts in the Palaces shall raign.Verse 14. The wilde beasts of the Desert shall also meet with the wilde beasts of the Islands, and the Satyre shall cry to his fellow; the Skrichowl shall also rest there, and finde for her self a place of rest. V. 15. There shal the great Owl make her nest, and lay, and nest, and gather under her shadow; There shall the Vulturs also be gathered every one with her Mate. V. 14. Et occurrent Daemonia Onocentauris, & Pilosus clamabit alter ad alterum; Ibi cubavit Lamia, & invenit sibi requiem. V. 15. Ibi habuit foveam Ericius, & enutrivit catulos, & circumfodit, & fovit in umbrâ ejus; illuc congregari sunt Milvi, alter ad alterum.

Here is a great difference between the two Translations; and it appears, methinks, that none perfectly understood the Hebrew, neither in this nor many other places. From whence they give the fabulous Greek names, as those of Satyrs, Lamiae, Onocentaurs, Vnicorns, Dra­gons, Orion, Pleiades, and the like, to several Hebrew words, whose true signification was lost; which is no wonder, for even in the Greek and Latine we have much ado to translate all the names of Birds, Beasts, Fishes, and Herbs, &c. and I am afraid we are often mistaken in them. So the Septuag. in Iob 42. v. 14. translate the name of Iobs third Daughter, The Horn of Amalthaea, alluding to a Graecian fable born long after Iobs time. [...], which the Latine Cornu stibii, the Horn of Antimony, perhaps because Antimony is accounted by some the Mother of Metals. We (I know not why) name her Kerenhappuch, not according to the signification, but the word of the Hebrew. It seems by the Greek, that Iobs three Daughters names signified Sweetness; Light, or Beauty; Plenty, or Fruitfulness. So in the 15 of Iudith it is translated; Nec filii Titan percusserunt eum: when the meaning is, They were not the sons of Gyants that slew him, but, &c. Not great strong men, but a weak woman.

2. The Latine says Milvi: which Translation is best I know not, nor does it import. The Vultures from their devouring of dead Bodies, were called [...], Living Tombs. They are said to assemble themselves together by a natural Divinatory Instinct in the places where any great slaughters are to be made; which Tradition arises, because they use to follow Armies; not as foreseeing the day of Battel, but because even in the marches of Armies there are always a great many men, horses, and other beasts, that fall here and there by the way. Iob has the like description of the Eagle, Ch. 39. 1. 30. And where the slain are, there is she.

3. The English mentions onely Satyrs, the Latin besides that (for Pilosi, are the same) Daemonia, and Lamiae, Hobgoblings. The Hebrew is said to signifie Nocturnum spectrum, An appearance of something in the Night. From whence the Chald. Transl [...] it An Owl, the English a Skrichowl. Whether there be any such creatures in Nature as Satyrs, &c. I will not determine. S. Antony seeking S. Paul the Hermite is reported by Athanasius to have met with a Monster half Man, and Beast, which he drove away with the sign of the Cross; and S. Hierom in the Life of the Hermite, says that such a kinde of Monster was in his time brought to Alexandria. Pliny testifies, that he himself saw an Hippocentaur, the body of which was preserved in honey, and brought to [...] but I am sorry he does not de­scribe the form of it, Lib. 7. Cap. 3.

The Plagues of Egypt.

IS this thy Brav'ery Man, is this thy Pride?
Rebel to God, and Slave to all beside!
Captiv'ed by every thing! and onely Free
To fly from thine own Libertie!
All Creatures the Creator said Were Thine;
No Creature but might since, say, Man is Mine!
In black Egyptian Slavery we lie;
And sweat and toil in the vile Drudgerie
Of Tyrant Sin;
To which we Trophees raise, and wear out all our Breath,
In building up the Monuments of Death;
We, the choice Race, to God and Angels Kin!
In vain the Prophets and Apostles come
To call us home,
Home to the promis'ed Canaan above,
Which does with nourishing Milk, and pleasant Honey flow;
And ev'en i'th'way to which we should be fed
With Angels tasteful Bread:
But, we, alas, the Flesh-pots love,
We love the very Leeks and sordid roots below.
In vain we Iudgements feel, and Wonders see;
In vain did God to descend hither da'ine,
He was his own Ambassador in vaine,
Our Moses and our Guide himself to bee.
We will not let our selves to go,
And with worse hardned hearts do our own Pharaohs grow;
Ah, lest at last we perish so!
Think, stubborn Man, think of th'Egyptian Prince,
(Hard of Belief and Will, but not so hard as Thou)
Think with what dreadful proofs God did convince
The feeble arguments that humane pow'e [...] could show;
Think what Plagues attend on Thee.
Who Moses God dost now refuse, more oft then Moses He.
If from some God you come (said the proud King)
1 With half a smile and half a Frovvn;
2 (But vvhat God can to Egypt be unknovvn?)
3 What Sign, vvhat Powers, vvhat Credence do you bring?
Behold his Seal, behold his Hand,
Cryes Moses, and casts dovvn th' Almighty Wand.
Th' Almighty Wand scarce toucht the Earth,
When with an undiscerned birth
4 Th' Almighty Wand a Serpent grew
And his long half in painted folds behinde him drew.
Upwards his threatning Tail he threw;
Upwards he cast his threatning Head,
He gap'ed and hist aloud;
With flaming Eyes survey'd the trembling croud,
And like a Basilisk almost lookt th'Assembly dead;
5 Swift fled th'Amazed King, the Guards before him fled.
1 Iannes and Iambres stop their flight,
And with proud words allay'd th'affright.
The God of Slaves (said they) how can he be
More powerful then their Masters Deitie▪
And down they cast their Rods,
2 And mutter'ed secret sounds that charm the servile Gods,
The evil Spirits their charms obey▪
And in a subtle cloud they snatch the Rods away,
3 And Serpents in their place the airy Iuglers lay.
Serpents in Egypts monstrous land,
Were never not at hand,
And ready all at the Old Serpents first command.
And they too gap'ed, and they too hist,
And they their threatning Tails did twist,
But strait on both the Hebrew-Serpent flew▪
Broke both their active Backs, and both it slew,
And both almost at once devour'ed,
So much was over-powere'd
By Gods miraculous Creation
His Servant Natures slightly-wrought, and feeble Generation.
1 On the fame'd bank the Prophets stood,
Toucht with their Rod, and wounded all the Flood;
Flood now no more, but a long Vein of putrid Blood▪
The helpless Fish were found
In their strange Current drownd,
The Herbs and Trees washt by the mortal Tide
About it blusht and dye'd.
Th'amazed Crocodiles made haste to ground;
From their vast trunks the dropping gore they spied,
Thought it their Own, and dreadfully aloud they cried.
2 Nor all thy Priests, nor Thou
Oh King, couldst ever show
From whence thy wandring Nile begins his course;
Of this new Nile thou seest the sacred Sourse;
And as thy Land that does oreflow,
Take heed lest this do so.
3 What Plague more just could on thy Waters fall?
The Hebrew Infants Murder stains them all.
The kinde, instructing Punishment enjoy;
Whom the Red River cannot Mend, the Red-sea shall Destroy.
The River yet gave one Instruction more,
1 And from the rotting Fish and unconcocted Gore,
Which was but Water just before,
A loathsome Host was quickly made,
That scale'd the Banks, & with loud noise did all the Country invade.
As Nilus when he quits his sacred Bed
2 (But like a Friend he visits all the Land
With welcome presents in his hand)
So did this Living Tide the Fields orespread.
In vain th'alarmed Countrey tries
To kill their noisome Enemies,
From th'unexhausted Sourse still new Recruits arise.
Nor does the Earth these greedy Troops suffice,
The Towns and Houses they posses,
The Temples and the Palaces,
Nor Pharaoh, nor his Gods they fear;
Both their importune croakings hear.
Unsatiate yet they mount up higher,
Where never Sun-born Frog durst to aspire;
And in the silken Beds their slimy Members place;
A Luxurie unknown before to all the Watry Race.
The Water thus her Wonders did produce;
But both were to no use.
As yet the Sorcerers mimick power serv'ed for excuse.
Try what the Earth will do (said God) and, Lo?
They stroke the Earth a fertile blow.
And all the Dust did strait to stir begin;
One would have thought some sudden Wind t'had bin;
But, Lo, 'twas nimble Life was got within!
And all the little Springs did move,
And every Dust did an arm'ed Vermine prove,
Of an unknown and new-created kinde,
Such as the Magick-Gods could neither make nor finde.
The wretched shameful Foe allow'ed no rest
Either to Man or Beast.
Not Pharaoh from th'unquiet Plague could bee,
With all his change of Rayments free;
The Devils themselves confest
This was Gods Hand; and 'twas but just
1 To punish thus mans pride, to punish Dust with Dust.
Lo the third Element does his Plagues prepare,
And swarming Clouds of Insects fill the Aire.
With sullen noise they take their flight,
And march in Bodies infinite;
In vain 'tis Day above, 'tis still beneath them Night.
1 Of harmful Flies the Nations numberless,
Compos'ed this mighty Armies spacious boast;
Of different Manners, different Languages;
And different Habits too they wore,
And different Arms they bore.
And some, like Scythians, liv'ed on Blood,
And Some on Green, and some on Flowry Food,
2 And Accaron, the Airy Prince, led on this various Host.
Houses secure not Men, the populous ill
Did all the Houses fill.
The Country, all around,
3 Did with the cryes of tortured Cattel sound;
About the fields enrag'ed they flew,
And wisht the Plague that was t'ensue.
1 From poysonous Stars a mortal Influence came
(The mingled Malice of their Flame)
A skilful Angel did th'Ingredients take,
And with just hands the sad Composure make,
And over all the Land did the full viol shake.
Thirst, Giddiness, Faintness, and putrid Heats,
And pining Pains, and Shivering Sweats,
On all the Cattle, all the Beasts did fall;
With deform'ed Death the Countrey's covered all.
The labouring Ox drops down before the Plow;
The crowned Victims to the Altar led
Sink, and prevent the lifted blow:
The generous Horse from the full Manger turns his Head;
Does his Lov'ed Floods and Pastures scorn,
Hates the shrill Trumpet and the Horn,
Nor can his lifeless Nostril please,
With the once-ravishing smell of all his dappled Mistresses.
The starving Sheep refuse to feed,
They bleat their innocent Souls out into aire;
The faithful Dogs lie gasping by them there;
Th'astonisht Shepherd weeps, and breaks his tuneful Reed.
Thus did the Beasts for Mans Rebellion dy,
God did on Man a Gentler Medicine try,
And a Disease for Physick did apply.
Warm ashes from the Furnace Moses took;
The Sorcerers did with wonder on him look;
And smil'ed at th'unaccustom'ed Spell
1 Which no Egyptian Rituals tell.
He flings the pregnant Ashes through the Aire,
And speaks a mighty Prayer,
Both which the Ministring Winds around all Egypt bear.
As gentle western Blasts with downy wings
Hatching the tender Springs
To the'unborn Buds with vital whispers say,
Ye living Buds why do ye stay?
The passionate Buds break through the Bark their way.
So wheresoere this tainted Wind but blew,
Swelling Pains and Ulcers grew;
It from the body call'ed all sleeping Poysons out,
And to them added new;
2 A noysome Spring of Sores, as thick as Leaves did sprout.
Heaven it self is angry next;
Wo to Man, when Heav'en is vext.
With sullen brow it frown'd,
And murmur'ed first in an imperfect sound.
Till Moses lifting up his hand,
Waves the expected Signal of his Wand,
And all the full-charg'ed clouds in ranged Squadrons move,
And fill the spacious Plains above.
Through which the rowling Thunder first does play,
And opens wide the Tempests noisy way.
And straight a stony shower
Of monstrous Hail does downwards powre,
Such as ne're Winter yet brought forth
From all her stormy Magazins of the North.
It all the Beasts and Men abroad did slay,
1 Ore the defaced corps, like Monuments, lay,
The houses and strong-body'ed Trees it broke,
Nor askt aid from the Thunders stroke.
The Thunder but for Terror through it flew,
2 The Hail alone the work could do.
The dismal Lightnings all around,
Some flying through the Air, some running on the ground,
Some swimming ore the waters face,
Fill'd with bright Horror every place.
One would have thought their dreadful Day to have seen,
The very Hail, and Rain it self had kindled been.
1 The Infant Corn, which yet did scarce appear,
Escap'ed this general Massacer
Of every thing that grew,
And the well-stored Egyptian year
Began to cloath her Fields and Trees anew.
2 When, Lo, a scortching wind from the burnt Countrys blew,
And endless Legions with it drew
3 Of greedy Locusts, who where ere
With sounding wings they flew,
Left all the Earth depopulate and bare,
As if Winter it self had marcht by there.
What ere the Sun and Nile
Gave with large Bounty to the thankful soil,
The wretched Pillagers bore away,
And the whole Summer was their Prey.
Till Moses with a prayer
Breath'd forth a violent Western wind,
Which all these living clouds did headlong bear
(No Stragglers left behind)
4 Into the purple Sea, and there bestow
On the luxurious Fish a Feast they nere did know.
With untaught joy, Pharaoh the News does hear,
And little thinks their Fate attends on Him, and His so near.
What blindeness or what Darkness did there ere
Like this undocile King's appear▪
What ere but that which now does represent
And paint the Crime out in the Punishment?
1 From the deep, baleful Caves of Hell below,
Where the old Mother Night does grow,
Substantial Night, that does disclaime,
Privation's empty Name,
Through secret conduits monstrous shades arose,
Such as the Suns whole force could not oppose,
They with a Solid Cloud
All Heavens Eclypsed Face did shrowd.
Seem'd with large Wings spread ore the Sea and Earth
To brood up a new Chaos his deformed birth.
2 And every Lamp, and every Fire
Did at the dreadful sight wink and expire,
To th'Empyrean Sourse all streams of Light seem'd to retire.
The living Men were in their standing- houses buried;
But the long Night no slumber knows,
But the short Death findes no repose.
Ten thousand terrors through the darkness fled,
And Ghosts complain'd, and Spirits murmured.
And Fancies multiplying sight
View'd all the Scenes Invisible of Night.
Of Gods dreadful anger these
Were but the first light Skirmishes;
The Shock and bloody battel now begins,
The plenteous Harvest of full-riponed Sins.
1 It was the time, when the still Moon
Was mounted softly to her Noon,
And dewy sleep, which from Nights secret springs arose,
Gently as Nile the land oreflows.
2 When (Lo!) from the high Countreys of refined Day,
The Golden Heaven without allay,
Whose dross in the Credtion purg'ed away,
Made up the Suns adulterace ray,
3 Michael, the warlike Prince, does downwards fly
Swift as the jorneys of the Sight,
Swift as the race of Light,
And with his Winged Will cuts through the yielding sky.
He past through many a Star, and as he past,
Shone (like a star in them) more brightly there,
Then they did in their Sphere
On a tall Pyramids pointed Head he stopt at last,
And a mild look of sacred Pity cast
Down on the sinful Land where he was sent
T'inflict the tardy panishment.
Ah! yet (said He) yet stubborn King repent;
Whilst thus unarm'ed I stand,
Ere the keen Sword of God fill my commanded Hand;
Suffer but yet Thy self, and Thine to live;
Who would, alas! believe
That it for Man (said He)
So hard to be Forgiven should be,
And yet for God so easie to Forgive!
He spoke, and downwards flew,
And ore his shining Form a well-cut cloud he threw
Made of the blackest Fleece of Night,
And close-wrought to keep in the powerful Light,
Yet wrought so fine it hindred not his Flight.
But through the Key-holes and the chinks of dores,
And through the narrow'est Walks of crooked Pores,
1 He past more swift and free,
Then in wide air the wanton Swallows flee.
He took a pointed Pestilence in his hand,
The Spirits of thousand mortal poysons made
The strongly temper'd Blade,
The sharpest Sword that ere was laid
Up in the Magazins of God to scourge a wicked Land.
Through Egypts wicked Land his march he took.
2 And as he marcht the sacred First born strook
Of every womb; none did he spare;
3 None from the meanest Beast to Cenchres purple Heire.
The swift approach of endless Night,
Breaks ope the wounded Sleepers rowling Eyes▪
They'awake the rest with dying cries,
And Darkness doubles the affright.
The mixed sounds of scatter'd Deaths they hear,
And lose their parted Souls 'twixt Grief and Fear,
Louder then all the shreiking Womens voice
Pierces this Chaos of confused noise
As brighter Lightning cots a way
Clear, and distinguisht, through the Day
1 With less complaints the Zoan Templess sound,
2 When the adored Haifer's drownd,
And no true markt Successor to be found,
Whilst Health, and Strength, and Oladuess does possesse
The festal Hebrew Cottages;
The blest Destroyer comes not there
To interrupt the sacred cheare
3 That new begins their well reformed▪ Yeare.
Upon their doors he read, and understood.
Gods Protection writ in Blood,
Well was he skild i'th' Character Divine▪
And though he past by it in haste,
He bow'd and worshipt as he past,
The mighty Mysterie through its humble Signe.
The Sword strikes now too deep and near,
Longer with it's edge to play;
No Diligence or Cost they spare
To haste the Hebrews now away,
Pharaoh himself chides their delay;
So kinde and bountiful is Fear!
But, oh, the Bounty which to Fear we owe,
Is but like Fire strook out of stone.
So hardly got, and quickly gone,
That it scarce out-lives the Blowe.
Sorrow and fear soon quit the Tyrants brest;
Rage and Revenge their place possest
With a vast Host of Chariots and of Horse,
And all his powerful Kingdoms ready force
The travelling Nation he pursues;
Ten times orecome, he still th'unequal war renewes,
Fill'd with proud hopes, At least (said hee)
Th' Egyptian Gods from Syrian Magick free
Will now revenge Themselves and Mee;
Behold what passless Rocks on either hand
Like Prison walls about them stand!
Whilst the Sea bounds their Flight before,
And in our injur'ed justice they must finde
A worser stop then Rocks and Seas behinde.
Which shall with crimson gore
1 New paint the Waters Name, and double dye the shore.
He spoke; and all his Host
Approv'ed with shouts th'unhappy boast,
A bidden wind bore his vain words away,
And drown'd them in the neighb'ring Sea.
No means t'escape the faithless Travellers[?] spie,
And with degenerous fear to die,
Curse their new-gotten Libertie.
But the great Guide well knew he led them right,
And saw a Fath hid yet from humane sight.
He strikes the raging waves, the waves on either side
Unloose their close Embraces, and divide;
And backwards press, as in some solemn show
The crowding People do
(Though just before no space was seen)
To let the admired Triumph pass between.
The wondring Army saw on either hand
The no less wondring Waves, like Rocks of Crystal stand.
They marcht betwixt, and boldly trod
The secret paths of God.
And here and there all scatter'd in their way
The Seas old spoils, and gaping Fishes lay
Deserted on the sandy plain,
The Sun did with astonishment behold
The inmost Chambers of the opened Main,
For whatsoere of old
By his own Priests the Poets has been said,
He never sunk till then into the Oceans Bed.
Led chearfully by a bright Captain Flame,
To th'other shore at Morning Dawn they came,
And saw behinde th'unguided Foe
March disorderly and slow.
The Prophet straight from th'Idimaean strand
Shakes his Imperious Wand.
The upper waves, that highest crowded lie,
The beckning Wand espie.
Straight their first right-hand files begin to move,
And with a murmuring wind
Give the vvord March to all behind.
The left-hand Squadrons no less ready prove,
But vvith a joyful louder noise
Ansvver their distant fellovvs voice,
And haste to meet them make,
As several Troops do all at once a common Signal take.
What tongue th'amazment and th'affright can tell
1 Which on the Chamian Army fell,
When on both sides they saw the roaring Maine
Broke loose from his Invisible Chaine?
They saw the monstrous Death and watry war
Come rowling down loud Ruine from afar.
In vain some backward, and some forwards fly
With helpless haste; in vain they cry
2 To their Coelestial Beasts for aid;
In vain their guilty King they'upbraid,
In vain on Moses he, and Moses God does call,
With a Repentance true too late;
They're compast round with a devouring Fate
That draws, like a strong Net, the mighty Sea upon them All.



1. LIke that of Virgil, ‘Subridens mistâ Mezentius irâ.’ And Mezentius was like Pharaoh in his contempt of the Deity, contemptor (que) Deûm Mezentius, Exod. 5. 2. And (Pharaoh) answered, who is the Lord, that I should hear his voyce, and let Israel go? I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go.

2. For no Nation under the Sun worshipt so many Gods as Egypt; so that probably Pha­raoh would have known the name of any God but the true one, Iehovah.

3. That Pharaoh askt a sign; appears by Exod. 7. 9. And when Pharaoh shall say to you, Shew me a sign, &c.

4. Almighty, as it was the Instrument of the Almighty in doing wonders; for which it is called the Rod of the Lord, as well as of Moses and Aaron; and in this sense Fortune is rightly cal­led by Virgil Omnipotens.

5. We may well suppose that the King and his Guards fled for fear at the sight, since Moses himself did so at first, Exod. 4. 2. And it was turned into a Serpent, so that Moses fled from it.


1. So the Apostle calls the chief of Pharaohs Magicians, 2 Tim. 3. 8. but S. Hieron. translates their names Iohannes and Mambres; and they say there is a Tradition in the Talmud, that Iuhani And Mamre, chief of Pharaohs Magicians, said to Moses, Thou bringest straw into Aepraim, which was where abundance of corn grew; as if they should have said, to Bring your ma­gical Arts hither, is to as much purpose, as to bring water to Nilus. Iannes was famous even among heathen Authors. Pliu. lib. 3. c. 1. Est & alia Magices factio, a Mose, & Ianne & Iotape Iudaeis pendens. and Numenius the Pythagorean names him in Euseb. 1. 9. Prapaerat. Evang. They here are called by several names, in several Translations, by the Septuag, [...] Venefici, Poisoners, and [...] Incantatores, Enchanters; by Sulpitius Severus, Chaldaans, that is, Astrologers; by others, Sapientes & Malefici, Wisemen (that is, Men esteemed so among the Egyptians) Philosophers and Witches.

2. Fecerunt etiam ipsi per incantationes Aegyptiacos & arcana quaedam similiter. Their Gods may well be called Servile, for in all Enchantments we fiade them threatned by the Conjurers, and forced whether they will or no, by the power of Spelli, to do what they are commanded. Tiresias in the 4 Theb. because they did not obey him at first word, speaks to them like a Schoolmaster, with a rod in his hand,

—Et nobis saevire facultas:
—An Scythicis quoties armata venenis
Colchis aget trepido pallebunt Tartara motu,
Nostri cura minor? &c.

And Lucan says of Erichtho,

Omne nefas superi prima jam voce precantis
Concedunt, carmen (que) timent audire secundum.

[Page 64] And the Witches used always some obscure murmurings in their charms. So of Erichth,

Tum vox Lethaeos cunctis pollentior herbis
Excantare Deos, confundit murmura primum
Dissona, & humanae multum discordia Linguae.

3. There are four opinions concerning this action of the Magicians; the first, that their Rods appeared Serpents by an Illusion of the sight. This was Iosephus his opinion; for he says, [...] and Tertullian, Hierom, Gregory Nyssen, are cited for it too. Sedulius in lib. 4. Carm.

—Sed imagine falsa
Visibus human is magicos tribuere figuras.

This I like not, by no means; for if the appearance of the Serpents was an Illusion, so was the devouring of them too by Moses his Serpent. Therefore the second opinion to salve this difficulty, says, that the Devil for the Magicians, did really on the sudden, make up some bodies that looked like true Serpents, but were not so, and those bodies were truly devoured by Moses his true Serpent. But it does not fully answer the objection; and besides, by this De­ceipt, they might as well have imitated the other miracles. The third is, Thom. Aquinor, and Cajetans, and Delrios, and divers others, That they were true Serpents, not Created in an instant by the Devil (for that is granted by all to exceed his power) but Generated in a mo­ment of Time by application of all things required to the generation of Serpents, which is Spontaneous sometimes. The fourth is of Peretius, Abulensis, and many more, that the Devil snatcht away the Rods. and had true Serpents there in readiness to put in their place, and this agrees better with the swiftness of the action, for which, and some other reasons, I fol­low it.


1. The Bank of Nilus, which is incomparably the most famous River in the world, whe­ther we consider the greatness and length of it (for it runs about 900 German miles) or the things that it produces, or the miraculous flowing and ebbing of it. It is therefore called ab­solutely in the Scripture, Machal Misraim, The River of Egypt. From whence the word Nile is not unnaturally derived Nahal, Naal, Neel, Neil; as Bahal, Baal, Bel, Βῆλος: and Pompon. Mela reports, 1. 5. c. 10. That the fountain of Nilus is called Nachul by the Ethiopians. Now whereas God says to Moses, Go to Pharaoh in the morning, when he shall go forth to the Water: I believe, as the Perfians worshipt every morning the rising Sun, so the Egyptians did Nile; and that this going forth of the King to the River, was a constant act of Devotion, Theodoret [...] Nay I doubt whether Osyris (their great Deity) be not worshipped for Nilus. Seld. de Dils Syris.

2. The fountain of Nilus is now known to be in the mountains called Lunaemontes, and one of the Titles of Prester Iohn is, King of Goyome. Where Nile begins; but the ancients were totally ignorant of it, insomuch, that this was reckoned among the famous proprieties of Nilus, that it concealed its Spring, Fontium quicelat origines; of which see Lucan in the 10. Book; where, among other things, he says most admirably of Nilus.

—Vbicun (que) videris,
Quaereris, & multi contingit gloria genti
Vt Nilo sit laeta suo.

3. Theodoret upon Exodus, says thus of this change of Nilus, [...] Being changed into Blood, it accused the Egyptians of the Insants murder; and the Book of Wisdom in Chap. 11. makes the same observation.


1. Computruit fluvius; and before the Septuag. [...] where the vulgar Edi­tion says, Computrescent aqua; that is, fervebit, vel effervescet fluvius, relating perhaps to Blood, which when it corrupts Boils, and burns as it were in the veins: when the water had been corrupted in this manner, it is no wonder if it produced a great number of Frogs; but the wonder consists in that the number was so infinite, in that it was so suddenly produced upon the action of Aaron, and that contrary to their nature, they came to molest the Egypti­ans in their very houses. The like judgement with this we finde in prosane Histories, and to be attributed to the same hand of God, though the Rod was Invisible. Athenaeus in his 8 Book, and 2 Ch. reports, that in Paonia[?] and Dardanium (now called Bulgarie) there rained down so many Frogs from heaven (that is, perhaps they were suddenly produced after great showers) that they filled all the publike ways, and even private houses, that their domestical furni­ture was convered with them, that they found them in the very pots where they boiled their meat; and that what with the trouble of the Living, and the smell of the Deadones, they were forced at last to forsake their Countrey. And Pliny reports in his 8. B. Ch, 29. That a whole City in Gallia hath been driven away by Frogs, and another in Afrique by Locusts; and many examples of this kinde might be collected.

2. Sen lib. 4. Quaest. Natur. c. 11. Nilus brings both Water and Earth too to the thirsty and sandy soil; for flowing thick and troubled, he leaves all his Lees, as it were, in the Clests of the parched ground, and covers the dry places with the fatness which he brought with him, so that he does good to the Countrey two ways, both by over flowing, and by manuring it. So that Herod. calls it [...], The Husbandman. Tibul. Te propter nullos Tellus tua postulat imbres, Arida necpluvio supplicat herba Iovi; for which reason Lucan says, that Egypt hath no need of Iupiter,

—Nihil indiga mercis
Aut Iovis, in solo tanta est fiducia Nile.

[Page 67] And one in Athenaus bolder, yet calls Nilus excellently well, [...] thou Egyptian Iupiter: nay, it was termed by the Egyptians themselves, [...] The River that emulates and contends with Heaven.


1. What kinde of Creature this was, no man can tell certainly. The Sept. translate it both here, and in the Psaim 105. [...]. And so Philo, and the vulgar edition retains the word, Sciniphes, Ciniphes, or Kniphes, seem to come from the word, [...], which signifies to Prick, and they were a kinde of Gnat: and Pliny renders them Culices muliones, and sometimes simply Culices; as likewise Columella. Dioscorid. cap. 112. terms them, [...] And Hesych. [...] So Isidor. 1. 12. Origin. and Oros. 7, 8. and so Origen. Yet Iunius and Tremell. and the French, and the Eng­lish, and divers other Translations, render it by Lice, and Lice too might have wings; for Diod. Sicul. 1. 3. c. 3. speaking of the Acridophagi, or carer: of Locusts, says, that when they grow old, their bodies breed a kinde of uinged Lice, by which they are devoured. It seems to me most probab c, that it was some new kinde of creature, called analogically by an old known name, which is Pererius his conjecture, and is approved by River: And this I take to be the reason why the Magicians could not counterseit this miracle, as it was easie for them to do those of the Serpents, the Blood and the Frogs, which were things to be had every where. This I think may pass for a more probable cause then the pleasant sincy of the Hebrews, who say, that the Devils power is bounded to the producing of no creature less then a grain of Barley, or then S. Augustines allegorical reason, and too poetical even for Poetry, who affirms, that the Magicians sailed in the ibird Plague, to shew the defect of humane Philosophy, when it comes to the mysterie of the Trinity but, such pitiful allusions do more hurt then good in Divinity.


1. A grievous Swarm of Flies—So our English Translation; St. Hier Omne genus musca­rum. All sorts of Flies. The Septuag. [...] Canina Musca, a particular kinde of Fly, called a Dog-Fly, from his biting. If it be not to be read [...], which may signifie Aquila's, [...]. Some translate this place, A mixture of Beasts. The French, une mes [...]e de bestes. Iun. and Tremell. Colluviem: and it should seem that Iosephus understood it of se­veral sorts of wilde Beasts that infested The Countrey. For he says, [...]; and Pagninus, Omne genus serarum; which is not very probable, for the punishments yet were rather troublesome then mortal, and even this punishment of Infinite num­bers of small Tormentors, is so great a one, that God calls them his Armie, Ioel, 2. 25. nay, his Great Army, The Locust, the canker-worm, and the catterpillar, and the palmer worm, my great Army, which I sent among you.

2. The God of Flies, Belzebub, a Deity worshipped at Accaron, Iupiter, [...], either from bringing or diving away of Swarms of Flies, Plin. lib. [...] c. 28. Those of Cyrene worship the God Achor, great multitudes of Flies causing there a Pestilence, which presently dye upon the sacrificing to this God; where Achor, I conceive, to be the same with Accaron, most of the sea-coasta of Afrique, being ancient Colonies of the Phoenicians. Clement reports, that in Acarnaniâ at the Temple of Actian Apollo, they sacrificed an Ox to Flies, And Aelian, [...] de Animal c. 8. [...]. Both, as I suppose, meaning that they sacrifiecd the Ox, not to the flies themselves, but to Apollo or Iupiter [...], [...], Pausan. l. [...] [...] The Eleans sacrifice to Iupiter [...] for the driving away of Flies, from the Country of [...]. The Romans called this God not Iupiter, but Hercules Apomyius, though we read not of the killing of Flies among his Labors. Plin. 1. 29. c. 6. No living creature has less of understanding, or is less [...] (then flies) which makes it the more wonderful, that at the Olympique Games, upon the sacrificing of an Ox to the God whom they call Myiodes, whole clouds of them fly out of the Territory. And among the Trachinians, we read of Hercules. [...] the Driver away of Gnats with the Erythraeans of Hercules [...] the killer of worms, that hurt the Vines and many more Deities of the like honorable imployment are to be found among the ancients.

3. Many sorts of Flies molest the Castle, none so as the Afilus or Oestrus (the Gad-Fly)

Virg. Georg. 3.
Oestrum, Graeci vertêre vacantes,
Asper, acerba sonans, quo tota exterrita silvis
Diffugiunt armenta

With the plague that was to ensue; that is, not in the sense that Claudian speaks of Pluto's Horses, ‘Crastina venturae exspectantes gaudia praeda’ For how (as Scaliger says) could they know it) but simply, Wisht for death.


1. (i.) Poisoning: The conjunction of which produce Poisons (1) Infectious diseases, ac­cording to the received opinion of Astrologers. Virgil says, By the sick, or Diseased Heaven; that is, which causes diseases, but Heaven is there perhaps taken for the Air,

Hic quondam Morbo coeli miseranda coorta est
Tempestaa, toto (que) Autumni incanduit aestu, &c.

Where see his most incomparable description of a Pestilence.


1. No Books or Writings of the Rites of Magick amongst the Egyptians.

2. It is called by Moses, Chap 9, 10. Vicus inflationum Germinans in homine, &c. Sptou'lng [Page 68] out with blains, &c. which Iun. and Tremel. Erumpens multis pustulis. This in Deuteronomy is one of the curses with which the disobedience to God is threatned, Chap. 18. 27. The Lord shall smite thee with the botch of Egypt, &c. From hence, I believe, came the calumny, that Trog. Pompeius, Diod. Siculus, Tacitus, and other heathens cast upon the Hebrews, to wit, that they were expelled out of Egypt for being scabbed and leprous, which mistake was easie, in­stead of being dismist for having brought those diseases upon the Egyptians.


1. Not each one like a Monument, for that Metaphor would be too big; but many of them together, like a Monument, and the most ancient Monuments, we know, were heaps of stones, not great Tomb-stones.


1. (i.) The Wheat and Rye. See Chap. 9. v. 32.

2. Ch. 10. v. 13. Our Translation has East-wind: And the Lord brought an East-wind upon the Lord all that day, and all the night, &c. The vulgar has Ventum urentem. The Septuagint a Southwind. and Eugub. says, There is no doubt but it was a South wind; which opinion I follow (though the Iews unanimously will have it to be an East-wind) because the Southern parts of Afrique were most insested with Locusts, where they are in some places, the chief sood of the inhabitants: so that from thence they might easily be sercht; for I cannot agree with some, who imagine, that the hot wind blowing all day and night, produced them.

3. Wonderful are the things which Authors report of these kinde of Armies of Locusts, and of the order and regularity of their marches. Aldroandus and Fincelius (as I finde them cited) say thus, That in the year 8 yr. they were seen to fly over twenty miles in Germany in a day, in manner of a formed Army, divided into several squadrons, and having their quarters apart when they rested. That the Captains, with some few, marcht a days journey before the rest, to choose the most opportune places for their camp. That they never re­moved till Sun-rising, and just then went away in as much order as an Army of men could do. That at last having done great mischief wheresover they past; after prayers made to God, they were driven by a violent wind into the Belgique Ocean, and there drown'd, but being cast again by the sea, upon the shore, caused a great pestilence in the Countrey. Some adde, that they covered an hundred and sorty Acres at a time. St. Hier. upon Ioel, speaks thus. When the armies of Locusts came lately into these parts, and filled all the air, they flew in so great order, that slates in a pavement cannot be laid more regularly, neither did they ever stir one inch out of their ranks and files. There are reckoned thirty several sorts of Locusts, some in India (if we dare believe Plimy) three soot long. The same Author adds, of Locusts (Lib. 11. cap. 29.) That they pass in troops over great seas, enduring hunger for many days together in the search of foreign food. They are believed to be brought by the anger of the Gods; for they are seen sometimes very great. and make such a noise with their wings in flying, that they might be taken for Birds. They overcast the Sun, whilst people stand gazing with terror, lest they should fall upon their lands—out of Afrique chiefly they infest Italy. and the people are forced to have recourse to the Sybils Books, to enquire for a remedy. In the Countrey of Cyrene there is a Law to make war against them thrice a year, first by breaking their eggs, then by killing the young ones, and lastly, the old ones, &c.

4. The Red sea, which, methinks, I may better be allowed to call Purple, then Homer and Virgil to term any sea so.


In Mare purpureum violentior influit amnis.

Pliny says, Purpuram irati maris faciem referre and Theophr. [...].


1. Chap. v. Even darkness that may be felt. The Vulgar, Tam densae (tenebrae) ut palpari queant. Whether this darkness was really in the aire, or onely in their eyes, which might be blinded for the time: Or whether a suspension of Light from the act of Illumination in that Countrey; or whether it were by some black, thick, and damp vapor which possest all the air, it is impossible to determine. I fancy that the darkness of Hell below, which is called Utter Darkness, arose and overshadowed the Land; and I am authorized by the Wisdom of Solom. Chap. 17. v. 14. where he calls it a night that came upon them out of the bottoms of inevitable Hell, and therefore was the more proper to be (as he says after) An Image of that darkness which should afterwards receive them.

2. That all Fires and Lights went out, is to be plainly collected from the Text; for else how could it be truly said, that they could not see one another? and is confirmed by the Wisdom of Solony. Chap. 17. 5. No power of the fire might give them light. 3. See the above-cited, Chap. 17.


1. Midnight, called also by the Latines Meridies noctis.

2. It is very much disputed what that Light was that was created the first day. That it was the Empyraean heaven, seems to me the most probable opinion, out of which the Sun, Moon and Stars were made the fourth day: and therefore before I say, that all Light seemed to be returned to the Empyrean or highest heaven from whence it came at first.

3. Some think that God inflicted this plague upon the Egyptions immediately himself, because he says, Chap. 11. v. 4. About midnight will I go out into the midst of Egypt. And to the [Page 69] same effect, Chap. 12. 12. but it is an ordinary manner of speech, to attribute that to God, which is done by one of his Angels; and that this was an Angel, appears out of Chap. 12. 23. The Lord will pass over the door, and will not suffer the Destroyer to come into your houses to smite you. From which place, and Psalm 78. v. 49. where it is said (of the Egyptians) He cast upon them the fierceness of his anger, wrath, and indignation, and trouble, by sending evil Angels among them; Some collect, that God used here the ministry of an Evil or Evil Angels; but I cannot be­lieve, that God and the Magicians had the same Agents, and that Text of the Psalm is per­haps ill translated. Iun. and Tremel. understand by it Moses and Aaron, as Nuntios Malorum; and if we interpret it (as others) of Angels, it were better rendred in English, Destroying or Punishing Angels. Infficters of Evil upon them. I attribute this infliction to the Archangel Michael: first, because it was he (by name) who sought with the Dragon, and smore him and his Angels, Revel. 12. 7. Secondly, because in Daniel too he is mentioned as an Angel of War, Chap. 10. v. 13. And lastly, because the very name is said to signifie Percussio Dei. The Smiting of God. The Wisdom of Solomon, Chap. 18. v. 14. 15. 16. gives a little hint of the fancy of this Stance: For whilst all things were in quiet silence, and that the night was in the midst of her swist course, Thine Almighty Word, leapt down from heaven out of thy royal at Throne. as a fierce man of war into the midst of a Land of destruction: And brought thine unfergned com­mand as a sharp sword, and standing up, filled all things with death, &c.


1. That this Plague was a pestilence, is the opinion of Iosephus, and most Interpreters.

2. The Law of consecrating all first-borns to God, seems Exod. the 13. to be grounded upon this slaughter of the Egyptian First-born. But that was rather the addition of a new cause why the Hebrews should exactly observe it, then that it was the whole reason of it; for even by natural right, the First-born, and First-fruits of all things are Sacred to God; and therefore anciently, not onely among the Iews, but also other Nations, the Priesthood belonged to the Eldest Sons.

3. The Name of that Pharaoh who was drowned in the Red-sea There is great confusion in the succession of the Egyptian Kings, and divers named by some Chronologers, that are quite omitted by others; as Amenophis, whom Mercator, and some others, will have to be the King drowned in the Red sea; but that it was Cenchres, is the most probable, and most received opinion.


1. That Zoan, or Tzoan, was the place where Moses did his miracles, and consequently the City where Pharaoh Cenchres lived, we have the authoritie of Psalm 78. 12. It was likewise called Tanis (by the Graecians) and from it that mouth of the Nile near which it stood, Ostium Taniticum. So that they are mistaken, who make Noph, or Moph, that is, Memphis, the place where Pharaoh kept his Court, for that was built afterwards, and lies more South­ward.

2. The Adored Heifer. Apis, and Serapis, and Osyris (who was Misraim) I conceive to have been the same Deity among the Egyptians, known by other Nations by the names of Mithra, Baal, Tamuz, Adonis, &c. and signifying the Sun, the great lamentations for the disappearing or loss of Osyris, Tamuz, and Adonis, and rejoycing for their return, signify­ing nothing but the Elongation by Winter, and re-approach of the Sun by Summer. The Egyptians under Apis, or Osyris, did likewise worship Nilus; and their [...] and [...] signified the overflowing of Nilus, and return of it to the channel. Now owing all their sustenance to the Sun and Nilus for that reason they figured both under the shape of an Ox; and not, I believe, as Vossius, and some other learned men imagine, to represent Ioseph, who fed them in the time of the famine: Besides, the Images of this Ox (like that which Aaron made for the children of Israel, in the imitation of the Egyptian Idolatry) they kept a living one, and worshipped it with great reverence, and made infinite lamentations at the death of it, till another was found with the like marks, and then they thought that the old one was onely returned from the bottom of Nilus, whither they fancied it to retreat at the death or disappearing,

—Quo se gurgite Nili
Condat adoratus trepidis pastoribus Apis.

The Marks were these. It was to be a black Bull, with a white streak along the back, a white mark like an Half-moon on his right shoulder, two hairs onely growing on his tail, with a square blaze in his forehead, and a bunch, called Cantharus, under his Tongue: By what art the Priests made these marks, is hard to guess. It is indifferently named Ox, Calf, or Heifer, both by the Hebrews, Greeks, and Latines. So that which Exodus terms a Calf, Psalm 106. renders an Ox.

3. See Chap. 12. 2. From this time the Heorews had two computations of the beginning of the year; the one common, the other Sacred: The Common began in Tisri, which answers to our September, at the Autumnal Aequinoctial; and all civil matters were regulated according to this, which was the old account of the year. The Sacred, to which all Festivals, and all Religious matters had relation, began at the vernal Aequinoctial, and was in stitured in com­memoration of this deliverance.


1. (i.) Give a new occasion for it to be called the Red-sea. Concerning the name of which, the opinions are very different; that which seems to me most probable is, that it [Page 70] is denominated from Idumaea, and that from Edom, or Esau, that signifies Red; and the King Erithra, or Erythrun, from whence the Graecians derive it was Esau, and Erythraea his Countrey, Idumaea, both signifying the same thing in Hebrew and in Greek; but because that opinion of the Redness of the shore in some places, has bin most received, and is confirmed even to this day by some Travellers, and sounds most poetically, I allude to it here, whe­ther it be true or not.


1. Plutarch de Is. & Osyr. testifies, that [...] was an ancient name of Egypt, and that it was called so long after by the most skilful of the Egyptian Priests; that is, the Countrey of Cham: As also, the Scripture terms it, Psalm 105. Et Iacob peregrinus fuit in terra Cham. From whose son it was afterwards named Misraim, and by the Arabians Mesre to this day.

2. Beasts that were deified by the Egyptians, who chose at first the figures of Beasts for the Symbols or Hieroglyphical signs of their Gods, perhaps no otherwise then as the Poets make them of Constellations, but in time the worship came even to be terminated in them.

Davideis, A SACRED P …



Me verò primum dulces ante omnia Musae,
Quarum sacra fero ingenti percussus amore,
Accipiant, Coeli (que) vias ac Sidera monstrent.

LONDON: Printed for Humphrey Moseley, at the Princes Arms in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1656.


THe Proposition. The Invocation. The entrance in­to the History from a new agreement betwixt Saul and David. A description of Hell. The Devils Speech. Envys reply to him. Her appearing to Saul in the shape of Benjamin, her speech and Sauls to himself after she was vanisht. A description of Heaven. Gods Speech: he sends an Angel to David, the Angels Message to him. David sent for to play before Saul. A Digression concerning Musick. Davids Psalm. Saul attempts to kill him. His escape to his own house, from whence being pursued by the Kings Guard, by the artifice of his wife Michol he escapes, and flies to Naioh, the Prophets Colledge at Ramah. Sauls speech, and rage at his escape. A long Digression describing the Prophets Colledge, and their manner of life there, and the ordinary subjects of their Poetry. Sauls Guards pursue David thither, and prophe­sie. Saul among the Prophets. He is compared to Balaam, whose Song concludes the Book.

[Page 4]DAVIDEIS The first Book.

1 , 2 I Sing the Man who Iudahs Scepter bore
In that right hand which held the Crook before;
Who from best Poet, best of Kings did grow;
The two chief Gifts Heav'n could on Man bestow.
Much danger first, much toil did he sustain,
Whilst Saul and Hell crost his strong fate in vain.
Nor did his Crown less painful work afford;
Less exercise his Patience, or his Sword;
So long her Conque'ror Fortunes spight pursu'ed;
Till with unwearied Virtue he subdue'd
All homebred Malice, and all foreign boasts;
Their strength was Armies, his the Lord of Hosts.
Ioh. 8. 58.
who didst Davids royal stem adorn,
And gav'st him birth from whom thy self was't born.
Who didst in Triumph at Deaths Court appear,
And slew'st him with thy Nails, thy Cross and Spear,
Whilst Hells black Tyrant trembled to behold,
The glorious light he forfeited of old,
Who Heav'ens glad burden now, and justest pride,
Sitst high enthron'ed next thy great Fathers side,
(Where hallowed Flames help to adorn that Head
Which once the blushing Thorns invironed,
Till crimson drops of pretious blood hung down
Like Rubies to enrich thine humble Crown.)
Ev'en Thou my breast with such blest rage inspire,
As mov'ed the tuneful strings of Davids Lyre,
Guid my bold steps with thine old trav'elling Flame,
Exod. 13. 21.
3 In these untrodden paths to Sacred Fame;
Lo, with pure hands thy heav'enly Fires to take,
My well-chang'ed Muse I a chaste Vestal make!
From earths vain joys, and loves soft witchcraft free,
I consecrate my Magdalene to Thee!
Lo, this great work, a Temple to thy praise,
On polisht Pillars of strong Verse I raise!
A Temple, where if Thou vouchfafe to dwell,
4 . It Solomons, and Herods shall excel.
Too long the Muses-Lands have Heathen bin;
Their Gods too long were Dev'ils, and Vertues Sin;
But Thou, Eternal Word, hast call'ed forth Mee
5 . Th'Apostle, to convert that World to Thee;
T'unbind the charms that in flight Fables lie,
And teach that Truth is truest Poesie.
The malice now of jealous Saul grew less,
Orecome by constant Virtue, and Success;
6 He grew at last more weary to command
New dangers, then young David to withstand
Or Conquer them; he fear'd his mastring Fate,
And envy'ed him a Kings unpowerful Hate.
Well did he know how Palms by'oppression speed,
7 . Victorious, and the Victors sacred Meed!
The Burden lifts them higher. Well did he know,
How a tame stream does wild and dangerous grow
By unjust force; he now with wanton play,
Kisses the smiling Banks, and glides away.
But his known channel stopt, begins to roare,
8 . And swell with rage, and buffet the dull shore.
His mutinous waters hurry to the war,
And Troops of Waves come rolling from afar.
Then scorns he such weak stops to his free source,
And overruns the neighboring fields with violent course.
This knew the Tyrant, and this useful thought
His wounded mind to health and temper brought.
He old kind vows to David did renew,
Swore constancy, and meant his oath for true.
A general joy at this glad news appear'd,
For David all men lov'ed, and Saul they fear'd.
Angels and Men did Peace, and David love,
But Hell did neither Him, nor That approve;
From Mans agreement fierce Alarms they take;
And Quiet here, does there new Business make.
Beneath the silent chambers of the earth,
Where the Suns fruitful beams give metals birth,
Where he the growth of fatal Gold does see,
Gold which above more Influence has then Hee.
9 Beneath the dens where unfletcht Tempests lye,
And infant Winds their tender Voyces try,
Beneath the mighty Oceans wealthy caves,
10 . Beneath th'aeternal Fountain of all Waves,
Where their vast Court the Mother-waters keep,
And undisturb'd by Moons in silence sleep,
There is a place deep, wondrous deep below,
Which genuine Night and Horror does o'reflow;
11 No bound controls th'unwearied space, but Hell
Endless as those dire pains that in it dwell.
Here no dear glimpse of the Suns lovely face,
Strikes through the Solid darkness of the place;
No dawning Morn does her kind reds display;
One slight weak beam would here be thought the Day.
No gentle stars with their fair Gems of Light
Offend the tyr'annous and unquestion'd Night.
Here Lucifer, the mighty Captive, reigns,
Proud, midst his Woes, and Tyrant in his Chains.
Once General of a guilded Host of Sprights,
Like Hesper, leading forth the spangled Nights.
But down like Lightning, which him strook, he came;
And roard at his first plunge into the Flame.
Myriads of Spirits fell wounded round him there;
With dropping Lights thick shone the singed Aire.
Since when the dismal Solace of their wo,
Has onely been weak Mankind to undo;
Themselves at first against themselves they'excite,
(Their dearest Conquest, and most proud delight)
And if those Mines of secret Treason fail,
With open force mans Vertue they assail;
Unable to corrupt, seek to destroy;
And where their Poysons miss, the Sword employ.
Thus sought the Tyrant Fiend young Davids fall;
And 'gainst him arm'd the powerful rage of Saul.
He saw the beauties of his shape and face,
His female sweetness,
1 Sam. 16. 12.
and his manly grace,
He saw the nobler wonders of his Mind,
Great Gifts, which for great works he knew design'd.
He saw (t'ashame the strength of Man and Hell)
1 Sam. 17.
How by's young hands their Gathite Champion fell.
He saw the reverend Prophet boldly shed
12 . The royal drops round his enlarged Head.
1 Sam. 16. 13.
13 And well he knew what Legacy did place,
Gen. 49. 10.
The sacred Scepter in blest Iudahs race,
From which th'aeternal Shilo was to spring;
A Knowledge which new Hells to Hell did bring!
And though no less he knew himself too weak
The smallest Link of strong-wrought Fate to break;
Yet would he rage, and struggle with the Chain;
Lov'ed to Rebel though sure that 'twas in vain.
And now it broke his form'd design, to find
The gentle change of Sauls recov'ering Mind.
He trusted much in Saul, and rag'ed and griev'd
(The great Deceiver) to be Himself Deceiv'd.
Thrice did he knock his iron teeth, thrice howl,
And into frowns his wrathful forehead rowl.
His eyes dart forth red flames which scare the night,
And with worse fires the trembling Ghosts affright.
A troop of gastly Fiends compass him round,
And greedily catch at his lips fear'd sound.
Are we such Nothings then (said He) Our will
Crost by a Shepherds Boy? and you yet still
Play with your idle Serpents here? dares none
Attempt what becomes Furies? are ye grown
Benumb'd with Fear, or Vertues sprightless cold,
You, who were once (I'm sure) so brave and bold?
Oh my ill-chang'ed condition! oh my fate!
14 Did I lose Heav'en for this?
With that, with his long tail he lasht his brest,
And horribly spoke out in Looks the rest.
The quaking Pow'ers of Night stood in amaze,
And at each other first could onely gaze.
A dreadful Silence fill'd the hollow place,
Doubling the native terror of Hells face;
Rivers of slaming Brimstone, which before
So loudly rag'ed, crept softly by the shore;
No hiss of Snakes, no clanck of Chains was knowne;
The Souls amidst their Tortures durst not groane.
Envy at last crawls forth from that dire throng,
Of all the direfulst; her black locks hung long,
Attir'ed with curling Serpents; her pale skin
Was almost dropt from the sharp bones within,
And at her breast stuck Vipers which did prey
Upon her panting heart, both night and day
Sucking black blood from thence, which to repaire
Both night and day they left fresh poysons there.
Her garments were deep stain'd in humane gore,
And torn by her own hands, in which she bore
A knotted whip, and bowl, that to the brim
Did with green gall, and juice of wormwood swim.
With which when she was drunk, she furious grew
And lasht herself; thus from th'accursed crew,
Envy, the worst of Fiends, herself presents,
Envy, good onely when she'herself torments.
Spend not, great King, thy pretious rage (said she)
Upon so poor a cause; shall Mighty We
The glory of our wrath to him afford?
Are We not Furies still? and you our Lord?
At thy dread anger the fixt World shall shake,
And frighted Nature her own Laws forsake.
Do Thou but threat, loud storms shall make reply,
And Thunder eccho'it to the trembling Sky,
Whilst raging Seas swell to so bold an height,
As shall the Fires proud Element affright.
Th'old drudging Sun from his long-beaten way,
Shall at thy Voyce start, and misguid the day.
The jocond Orbs shall break their measure'd pace,
And stubborn Poles change their allotted place.
Heav'ens guilded Troops shall flutter here and there,
Leaving their boasting songs tun'ed to a Sphaere;
15 . Nay their God too—for fear he did, when We
Took noble Arms against his Tyrannie,
So noble Arms, and in a Cause so great,
That Triumphs they deserve for their Defeat.
There was a Day! oh might I see't agin
Though he had worser flames to thrust us in!
And can such pow'ers be by a Child withstood?
Will Slings, alas, or Peebles do him good?
What th'untam'ed. Lyon, whet with hunger too,
And Gyants could not, that my Word shall do;
I'll soon dissolve this Peace; were Sauls new Love
(But Saul we know) great as my Hate shall prove,
Before their Sun twice more be gone about,
I, and my faithful Snakes would drive it out.
16 . By Me Cain offer'd up his Brothers gore,
Gen. 4. 8
A Sacrifice far worse then that before;
I saw him fling the stone, as if he meant,
At once his Murder, and his Monument,
And laught to see (for 'twas a goodly show)
The Earth by her first Tiller fatned so.
Ib. v. 2. Exod. 14 23.
I drove proud Pharaoh to the parted sea;
He, and his Host drank up cold death by Mee;
By Me rebellious arms fierce Corah took,
And Moses (curse upon that Name!)
Num. 16. 1
17 . Hither (ye know) almost alive he came
Through the cleft Earth;
Ib. 31.
Ours was his Fun'eral Flame.
By Me—but I lose time, methinks, and should
Perform new acts whilst I relate the old;
David's the next our fury must enjoy;
'Tis not thy God himself shall save thee, Boy;
No, if he do, may the whole World have Peace;
May all ill Actions, all ill Fortune cease,
And banisht from this potent Court below,
May I a ragged, contemn'd Vertue grow.
She spoke; all star'ed at first, and made a pause;
But strait the general murmur of applause
Ran through Deaths Courts; she frown'd still, and begun
To envy at the praise herself had won.
18 . Great Belzebub starts from his burning throne
To'embrace the Fiend, but she now furious grown
To act her part; thrice bow'd, and thence she fled;
The Snakes all hist, the Fiends all murmured.
It was the time when silent night began
T'enchain with sleep the busie spirits of Man;
And Saul himself, though in his troubled brest
The weight of Empire lay, took gentle rest:
So did not Envy; but with haste arose;
And as through Israel's stately Towns she goes,
She frowns and shakes her head; thine own (says she)
Ruines ere long shall your sole Mon'uments be.
The silver Moon with terrour paler grew,
And neighbring Hermon sweated flow [...]y dew;
Swift Iordan started, and straight backward fled,
Hiding among thick reeds his aged head;
19 Lo, at her entrance Sauls strong Palace shook;
And nimbly there the reverend shape she took
of Father Benjamin; so long her beard,
So large her limbs, so grave her looks appear'd:
20 Iust like his statue which bestrid Sauls gate,
And seem'd to Guard the race it did create.
In this known form she'approacht the Tyrants side;
And thus her words the sacred Form bely'd.
Arise, lost King of Isra'el; can'st thou lie
Dead in this sleep, and yet thy Last so nigh?
If King thou be'est, if Iesses race as yit
Sit not on Israels Throne! and shall he sit?
Did ye for this from fruitful Egypt fly?
From the mild Brickhils nobler slavery?
For this did Seas your pow'erful Rod obey?
Did Wonders guide, and feed you on your way?
Could ye not there great Pharaohs bondage beare,
You who can serve a Boy, and Minstrel here?
Forbid it God, if thou be'st just; this shame
Cast not on Sauls, on mine, and Israels Name.
Why was I else from Canaans Famine lead?
Gen. 43.
thrice happy had I[?] there been dead
Ere my full Loyns discharg'ed this num'erous race,
This luckless Tribe, ev'en Crown'd to their Disgrace!
Ah Saul, thy Servants Vassal must thou live?
Place to his Harp must thy dread Scepter give?
What wants he now but that? can'st thou forget
(If thou be'st man thou can'st not) how they met
The Youth with Songs?
[...]. Sam. 18. 7.
Alas, poor Monarch! you
Your thousand onely, he ten thousand slew!
Him Isra'el loves, him neighbring Countreys fear;
You but the Name, and empty Title bear;
And yet the Traytor lives, lives in thy Court;
The Court that must be his; where he shall sport
Himself with all thy Concubines, thy Gold,
Thy costly robes, thy Crown; Wert thou not told
This by proud Samuel,
1 Sam. 13. 13.
when at Gilgal he
With bold false threats from God affronted Thee?
The dotard ly'd; God said it not I know;
Not Baal or Moloch would have us'd thee so;
Was not the choice his own? did not thy worth
Exact the royal Lot,
1 Sam. 19. 21.
and call it forth?
Hast thou not since (my best and greatest Sonne)
To Him, and to his perishing Nation done
Such lasting ben'efits as may justly claime
A Scepter as aeternal as thy Fame?
Poor Prince, whom Madmen, Priests, and Boys invade!
By thine own Flesh thy ingrateful Son betray'd!
Unnat'ural Fool, who can thus cheated be!
By Friendships Name against a Crown and Thee!
Betray not too thy self; take courage, call
21 Thy'enchanted Vertues forth, and be Whole Saul.
Lo, this great cause makes thy dead Fathers rise,
Breaks the firm Seals of their clos'd Tombs and Eyes.
Nor can their jealous Ashes, whilst this Boy
Survives, the Priv'iledge of their Graves enjoy.
Rise quickly Saul, and take that Rebels breath
Which troubles thus thy Life, and ev'en our Death.
Kill him, and thou'rt secure; 'tis onely Hee
That's boldly interpos'ed 'twixt God and Thee,
As Earths low Globe robs the High Noon of Light;
When this Eclypse is past, thy Fate's all bright.
Trust me, dear Son, and credit what I tell;
I'have seen thy royal Stars, and know them well.
Hence Fears and dull Delays! Is not thy Brest
(Yes, Saul it is) with noble thoughts possest?
May they beget like Acts. With that she takes
One of her worst, her best beloved Snakes,
Softly, dear Worm, soft and unseen (said she)
Into his bosom steal, and in it be
My Vice-Roy. At that word she took her flight,
And her loose shape dissolv'ed into the Night.
The infected King leapt from his bed amaz'ed,
Scarce knew himself at first, but round him gaz'd,
And started back at piec'ed-up shapes, which feare
And his distracted Fancy painted there.
Terror froze up his hair, and on his face
Show'ers of cold sweat roll'd trembling down apace.
Then knocking with his angry hands his brest,
Earth with his feet; He cries, Oh 'tis confest;
22 I'have been a pious fool, a Woman-King;
Wrong'd by a Seer, a Boy, every thing.
23 Eight hundred years of Death is not so deep,
So unconcern'd as my Lethargick sleep.
My Patience ev'en a Sacriledge becomes,
Disturbs the Dead, and opes their sacred Tombs.
Ah Benjamin, kind Father! who for me
This cursed World endur'est again to see!
All thou hast said, Great Vision, is so true,
That all which thou command'st and more I'll do:
Kill him? yes mighty Ghost the wretch shall dy,
Though every Star in heav'en should it deny;
Nor mock thassault of our just wrath again,
Had he ten times his fame'd ten thousand slain.
Should that bold popular Madman,
1 Sam. 8. 19.
whose design
Is to revenge his own disgrace by Mine,
Should my ingrateful Son oppose th'intent,
Should mine own heart grow scrup'ulous and relent.
Curse me, just Heaven (by which this truth I sweare)
If I that Seer, my Son, or Self do spare.
No gentle Ghost, return to thy still home;
Thither this day mine, and thy Foe shall come.
If that curst object longer vex my sight,
It must have learnt to appear as Thou to night.
Whilst thus his wrath with threats the Tyrant fed,
The threatned youth slept fearless on his bed;
Sleep on, rest quiet as thy Conscience take,
For though Thou sleep'st thy self, thy God's awake.
24 Above the subtle foldings of the Sky,
Above the well-set Orbs soft Harmony,
Above those petty Lamps that guild the Night;
There is a place o'reslown with hallowed Light;
Where Heaven, as if it left it self behind,
Is stretcht out far, nor its own bounds can find:
Here peaceful Flames swell up the sacred place,
25 Nor can the glory contain it self in th'endless space.
For there no twilight of the Suns dull ray,
Glimmers upon the pure and native day.
No pale-fac'ed Moon does in stoln beams appeare,
Or with dim Taper scatters darkness there.
On no smooth Sphear the restless seasons slide,
No circling Motion doth swift Time divide;
Nothing is there To come, and nothing Past,
26 But an Eternal Now does always last.
There sits th' Almighty, First of all, and End;
Whom nothing but Himself can comprehend.
Who with his Word commanded All to Bee,
And All obey'd him, for that Word was Hee.
Onely he spoke, and every thing that Is
From out the womb of Fertile Nothing ris.
Oh who shall tell, who shall describe thy throne,
Thou Great Three-One?
There Thou thy self do'st in full presence show,
Not absent from these meaner Worlds below;
No, if thou wert, the Elements League would cease,
And all thy Creatures break thy Natures peace▪
The Sun would stop his course, or gallop back,
The stars drop out, the Poles themselves would crack:
Earths strong foundations would be torn in twain,
And this vast work all ravel out again
To its first Nothing; For his Spirit contains
27 The well-knit Mass, from him each creature gains
Being and Motion, which he still bestows;
From him th'effect of our weak Action flows.
28 Round him vast Armies of swift Angels stand,
Which seven triumphant Generals command,
They sing loud anthemes of his endless praise,
And with fixt eyes drink in immortal rayes.
29 Of these he call'd out one; all Heav'en did shake,
And silence kept whilst its Creator spake.
Are we forgotten then so soon? can He
Look on his Crown, and not remember Me
That gave it? can he think we did not hear
(Fond Man!) his threats? and have we made the Ear
To be accounted deaf? No, Saul, we heard;
And it will cost thee dear; the ills thou'st fear'd,
Practis'd, or thought on, I'll all double send;
Have we not spoke it, and dares Man contend!
Alas, poor dust! did st thou but know the day
When thou must lie in blood at Gilboa,
1 Sam. 31.
Thou, and thy Sons, thou wouldst not threaten still,
Thy trembling Tongue would stop against thy will.
Then shall thine Head fixt in curst Temples bee,
And all their foolish Gods shall laugh at Thee.
That hand which now on Davids Life would prey,
Shall then turn just, and its own Master slay;
He, whom thou hat'est, on thy lov'ed Throne shall sit,
And expiate the disgrace thou do'est to it.
Hast then; tell David what his King has sworn,
Tell him whose blood must paint this rising Morn.
Yet bid him go securely when he sends;
30 'Tis Saul that is his Foe, and we his Friends.
The Man who has his God no ayd can lack,
And we who bid him Go, will bring him back.
He spoke; the Heavens seem'd decently to bow,
With all their bright Inhabitants; and now
The jocond Sphaeres began again to play,
Again each Spirit sung Halleluia.
Onely that Angel was strait gon; Ev'en soe
(But not so swift) the morning Glories flow
At once from the bright Sun, and strike the ground;
So winged Lightning the soft ayr does wound.
Slow Time admires, and knows not what to call
The Motion, having no Account so small.
So flew this Agel, till to Davids bed
He came, and thus his sacred Message said,
31 Awake, young Man, hear what thy King has sworn;
He swore thy blood should paint this rising Morn.
Yet to him go securely when he sends;
'Tis Saul that is your Foe, and God your Friends.
The Man who has his God, no aid can lack;
And he who bids thee Go, will bring thee back.
Up leapt Iessides, and did round him stare;
But could see nought; for nought was left but aire,
Whilst this great Vision labours in his thought,
Lo, the short Prophesie t'effect is brought.
In treacherous haste he's sent for to the King,
And with him bid his charmful Lyre to bring.
1 Sam. 18. 10. & 19. 9.
The King, they say, lies raging in a Fit,
Which does no cure but sacred tunes admit;
32 And true it was,
1 Sam. 16. 23.
soft musick did appease
Th'obscure fantastick rage of Sauls disease.
33 Tell me, oh Muse (for Thou, or none can'st tell
The mystick pow'ers that in blest Numbers dwell,
Thou their great Nature knowst, nor is it fit
This noblest Gem of thine own Crown t'omit)
Tell me from whence these heav'nly charms arise;
Teach the dull world t'admire what they despise,
As first a various unform'd Hint we find
Rise in some god-like Poets fertile Mind,
Till all the parts and words their places take,
And with just marches verse and musick make;
34 Such was Gods Poem, this Worlds new Essay;
So wild and rude in its first draught it lay;
Th'ungovern'd parts no Correspondence knew,
An artless war from thwarting Motions grew;
Till they to Number and fixt rules were brought
By the aeternal minds Poetick Thought.
35 Water and Air he for the Tenor chose,
Earth made the Base, the Treble Flame arose,
36 To th'active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave,
To Saturns string a quick brisk stroke he grave,
The motions Strait, and Round, and Swift, and Slow,
And Short and Long, were mixt and woven so,
Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall,
As made this decent measur'ed Dance of All.
And this is Musick; Sounds that charm our ears,
Is but one Dressing that rich Science wears.
Though no man hear't, though no man it reherse,
Yet will there still be musick in my Verse.
In this Great World so much of it we see;
37 The Lesser, Man, is all o're Harmonie.
Storechouse of all Proportions! single Quire!
Which first Gods Breath did tunefully inspire!
From hence blest Musicks heav'enly charms arise,
From sympathy which Them and Man allies.
Thus they our souls, thus they our Bodies win,
Not by their Force, but Party that's within.
38 Thus the strange Cure on our spilt Blood apply'd,
Sympathy to the distant Wound does guid.
39 Thus when two Brethren strings are set alike,
To move them both, but one of them we strike.
Thus Davids Lyre did Sauls wild rage controul,
40 And tun'd the harsh disorders of his Soul.
41 When Isra'el was from bondage led,
Psal. 114. 41
Led by th'Almighties hand
From out a foreign land,
The great Sea beheld, and fled.
As men pursu'ed, when that fear past they find,
Stop on some higher ground to look behind,
So whilst through wondrous ways
The sacred Army went,
The waves afar stood up to gaze,
And their own Rocks did represent,
Solid as Waters are above the Firmament.
Old Iordans waters to their spring
Start back with sudden fright;
The spring amaz'ed at sight,
Asks what News from Sea they bring.
The Mountains shook; and to the Mountains side,
The little Hills leapt round themselves to hide;
As young affrighted Lambs
When they ought dreadful spy,
Run trembling to their helpless Dams;
The mighty Sea and River by,
Were glad for their excuse to see the Hills to fly.
What ail'd the mighty Sea to flee?
Or why did Iordans tide
Back to his fountain glide?
Iordans Tide, what ailed Thee?
Why leapt the Hills? why did the Mountains shake?
What ail'd them their fixt Natures to forsake?
Fly where thou wilt, O Sea!
And Iordans currant cease;
Iordan there is no need of thee,
For at Gods word, when e're he please,
The Rocks shall weep new Waters forth instead of these.
Exo. 17. 6. Num. 20. 11.
Thus sung the great Musician to his Lyre;
And Sauls black rage grew softly to retire;
But Envys serpent still with him remain'd,
42 And the wise Charmers healthful voyce disdain'd.
Psa. 58. 5.
Th'unthankful King cur'ed truly of his fit,
Seems to lie drown'd and buried still in it.
From his past madness draws this wicked use,
To sin disguis'ed, and murder with excuse:
For whilst the fearless youth his cure pursues,
And the soft Medicine with kind art renews;
The barb'arous Patient casts at him his spear,
1 Sam. 18. 11. & 19. 10.
(The usual Scepter that rough hand did bear)
Casts it with violent strength, but into th'roome
An Arm more strong and sure then his was come;
An Angel whose unseen and easie might
Put by the weapon, and misled it right.
How vain Mans pow'er is! unless God command,
The weapon disobeys his Masters hand!
Happy was now the error of the blow;
At Gilboa it will not serve him so.
One would have thought, Sauls sudden rage t'have seen,
He had himself by David wounded been.
He scorn'd to leave what he did ill begin,
And thought his Honor now engag'ed i'th Sin.
A bloody Troop of his own Guards he sends
(Slaves to his Will, and falsly call'ed his Friends)
To mend his error by a surer blow,
So Saul ordain'ed, but God ordain'ed not so.
Home flies the Prince, and to his trembling Wife
Relates the new-past hazard of his life,
Which she with decent passion hears him tell;
For not her own fair Eyes she lov'ed so well.
43 Upon their Palace top beneath a row
Of Lemon Trees, which there did proudly grow,
And with bright stores of golden fruit repay
The Light they drank from the Suns neighb'ring ray,
(A small, but artful Paradise) they walk'd;
And hand in hand sad gentle things they talk'd.
Here Michol first an armed Troop espies
(So faithful and so quick are loving Eyes)
Which marcht, and often glister'd through a wood,
That on right hand of her fair Palace stood;
1 Sam. 19. 11.
She saw them; and cry'd out; They're come to kill
My dearest Lord; Sauls spear pursues thee still.
Behold his wicked Guards; Haste quickly, fly,
For heavens sake haste; My dear Lord, do not dy.
Ah cruel Father, whose ill-natur'ed rage
Neither thy Worth, nor Marriage can asswage!
Will he part those he joyn'd so late before?
Were the two-hundred Foreskins worth no more?
He shall not part us;
1 Sam. 18. 27.
(Then she wept between)
At yonder Window thou maist scape unseen;
This hand shall let thee down; stay not, but hast;
'Tis not my Use to send thee hence so fast.
Best of all women, he replies—and this
Scarce▪ spoke, she stops his answer with a Kiss;
Throw not away (said she) thy precious breath,
Thou stay'st too long within the reach of death.
Timely he'obeys her wise advice, and streit
44 To unjust Force she' opposes just deceit.
1 Sam 19 13.
Shee meets the Murd'erers with a vertuous Ly,
And good dissembling Tears; May he not dy
In quiet then?
1 Sam. 19▪ 14.
(said she) will they not give
That freedom who so fear least he should Live?
Even fate does with your cruelty conspire,
And spares your guilt, yet does what you desire.
Must he not live? for that ye need not sin;
My much-wrong'd Husband speechless lies within,
And has too little left of vital breath
To know his Murderers, or to feel his Death.
One hour will do your work—
Here her well-govern'd Tears dropt down apace;
Beauty and Sorrow mingled in one face
Hath such resistless charms that they believe,
And an unwilling aptness find to grieve
At what they came for; A pale Statues head
In linnen wrapt appear'd on Davids bed;
Two servants mournful stand and silent by,
And on the table med'cinal reliques ly;
In the close room a wel-plac'ed Tapers light,
Adds a becoming horror to the sight.
And for thImpression God prepar'ed their Sence;
They saw, beleiv'd all this, and parted thence.
How vain attempts Sauls unblest anger tryes,
By his own hands deceiv'd, and servants Eyes!
It cannot be (said he) no, can it? shall
Our great ten thousand Slayer idlely fall?
The silly rout thinks God protects him still;
But God, alas, guards not the bad from ill.
Oh may he guard him! may his members be
In as full strength, and well-set harmonie
As the fresh body of the first made Man
Ere Sin, or Sins just meed, Disease began.
He will be else too small for our vast Hate;
And we must share in our revenge with fate.
No; let us have him Whole; we else may seem
To' have snatcht away but some few days from him
And cut that Thread which would have dropt in two;
Will our great anger learn to stoop so low?
I know it cannot, will not; him we prize
Of our just wrath the solemn Sacrifize,
45 That must not blemisht be; let him remain
Secure, and grow up to our stroke again.
'Twill be some pleasure then to take his breath,
When he shall strive, and wrestle with his death;
Go, let him live—And yet—shall I then stay
So long? good and great actions hate delay.
Some foolish piety perhaps, or He
That has been still mine honors Enemie,
Samuel may change or cross my just intent,
And I this Formal Pitty soon repent.
Besides Fate gives him me, and whispers this,
That he can fly no more, if we should miss;
Miss? can we miss again; go, bring him strait,
Though gasping out his Soul;
1 Sam. 19. 15.
if the wisht date
Of his accursed life be almost past,
Some Ioy 'twill be to see him breath his last:
The Troop return'd, of their short Virtue' ashame'd,
Sauls courage prais'd, and their own weakness blam'ed,
But when the pious fraud they understood,
Scarce the respect due to Sauls sacred blood,
Due to the sacred beauty in it reign'ed,
From Michols murder their wild rage restrain'ed.
She'alleag'ed the holiest chains that bind a wife,
Duty and Love;
1 Sam. 19. 17.
she alleag'ed that her own Life,
Had she refus'ed that safety to her Lord,
Would have incurr'd just danger from his sword.
Now was Sauls wrath full grown; he takes no rest;
A violent Flame rolls in his troubled brest,
And in fierce Lightning from his Eye do's break;
Not his own fav'orites, and best friends dare speak,
Or look on him; but mute and trembling all,
Fear where this Cloud will burst, and Thunder fall.
So when the pride and terrour of the Wood,
A Lyon prickt with rage and want of food,
Espies out from afar some well-fed beast,
And brustles up preparing for his feast;
If that by swiftness scape his gaping jaws;
His bloody eyes he hurls round, his sharp paws
Tear up the ground; then runs he wild about,
Lashing his angry tail, and roaring out.
Beasts creep into their dens, and tremble there;
Trees, though no wind be stirring, shake with feare;
Silence and horror fill the place around;
Eccho it self dares scarce repeat the sound.
46 Midst a large Wood that joyns fair Ramahs Town
(The neighbourhood fair Rama's chief renown)
47 A Colledge stands,
1 Sam. 19. 19.
where at great Prophets feet
The Prophets Sons with silent dilig'ence meet,
By Samuel built, and mod'erately endow'ed,
Yet more to'his lib'eral Tongue then Hands they ow'ed.
There himself taught, and his blest voyce to heare,
Teachers themselves lay proud beneath him there.
The House was a large Square; but plain and low;
Wise Natures use Art strove not to outgo.
An inward Square by well-rang'd Trees was made;
And midst the friendly covert of their shade,
A pure, well-tasted, wholesome Fountain rose;
Which no vain cost of Marble did enclose;
Nor through carv'd shapes did the forc'ed waters pass,
Shapes gazing on themselves i'th liquid glass.
Yet the chaste stream that 'mong loose peebles fell
48 For Cleanness, Thirst, Religion serv'd as well.
49 The Schollars, Doctors▪ and Companions here,
Lodg'ed all apart in neat small chambers were:
Well-furnisht Chambers, for in each there stood,
50 A narrow Couch, Table and Chair of wood;
More is but clog where use does bound delight;
And those are rich whose Wealth's proportion'ed right
To their Lifes Form; more goods would but becom
A burden to the man contracts his room.
A second Court more sacred stood behind,
Built fairer, and to nobler use design'd:
The Hall and Schools one side of it possest;
The Library and Synagogue the rest.
Tables of plain-cut Firre adorn'ed the Hall;
51 And with beasts skins the beds were cov'red all.
52 The reverend Doctors take their seats on high,
Th'Elect Companions in their bosoms ly.
The Schollars far below upon the ground,
On fresh-strew'd rushes place themselves around▪
With more respect the wise and ancient lay;
But eat not choicer Herbs or Bread then they,
Nor purer Waters drank, their constant feast;
But by great days, and Sacrifice encreast.
The Schools built round and higher, at the end
With their fair circle did this side extend;
To which their Synagogue on th'other side,
And to the Hall their Library replide.
The midst tow'ards their large Gardens open lay,
To'admit the joys of Spring and early day.
I'th' Library a few choice Authors stood;
Yet 'twas well stor'ed, for that small store was good;
Writing, Mans Spir'itual Physick was not then
It self, as now, grown a Disease of Men.
Learning (young Virgin) but few Suitors knew;
The common Prostitute she lately grew,
And with her spurious brood loads now the press;
Laborious effects of Idleness!
Here all the various forms one might behold
How Letters save'd themselves from Death of old;
53 Some painfully engrav'ed in thin wrought plates,
Some cut in wood, some lightlier trac'ed on slates;
54 Some drawn on fair Palm leaves, with short-live'd toyl,
Had not their friend the Cedar lent his Oyl.
55 Some wrought in Silks, some writ in tender barks;
Some the sharp Stile in waxen Tables marks;
56 Some in beasts skins, and some in Biblos reed;
Both new rude arts, which age and growth did need.
The Schools were painted well with useful skill;
Stars, Maps, and Stories the learn'd wall did fill.
Wise wholesome Proverbs mixt around the roome▪
57 Some writ, and in Egyptian Figures some.
Here all the noblest Wits of men inspir'ed,
From earths slight joys, and worthless toils retire'd,
Whom Samuels Fame and Bounty thither lead,
Each day by turns their solid knowledge read.
58 The course and power of Stars great Nathan taught,
And home to man those distant wonders brought,
How toward both Poles the Suns fixt journey bends,
And how the Year his crooked walk attends.
By what just steps the wandring Lights advance,
And what aeternal measures guid their dance.
Himself a Prophet; but his Lectures shew'ed
How little of that Art to them he owed.
Mahol th'inferior worlds fantastick face,
Though all the turns of Matters Maze did trace,
Great Natures well-set Clock in pieces took;
On all the Springs and smallest Wheels did look
Of Life and Motion; and with equal art
Made up again the Whole of ev'ry Part.
The Prophet Gad in learned Dust designes
Th'immortal solid rules of fanci'ed Lines.
Of Numbers too th' unnumbred wealth he showes,
And with them far their endless journey goes.
59 Numbers which still encrease more high and wide
From One, the root of their turn'd Pyramide.
Of Men, and Ages past Seraiah read;
Embalm'd in long-live'd History the Dead.
Show'd the steep falls, and slow ascent of States;
What Wisdom and what Follies make their Fates.
Samuel himself did Gods rich Law display;
Taught doubting men with Iudgement to obay.
And oft his ravisht Soul with sudden flight
Soar'd above present Times, and humane sight.
These Arts but welcome strangers might appear,
Musick and Verse seem'd born and bred up here;
Scarce the blest Heav'en that rings with Angels voyce,
Does with more constant Harmony rejoyce.
The sacred Muse does here each brest inspire;
Heman, and sweet-mouth'd Asaph rule their Quire:
Both charming Poets, and all strains they plaid,
By artful Breath, or nimble Fingers made.
The Synagogue was drest with care and cost,
(The onely place where that they'esteem'd not lost)
The glittering roof with gold did daze the view,
60 The sides refresh't with silks of sacred blew.
Here thrice each day they read their perfect Law,
Thrice pray'ers from willing Heav'en a blessing draw;
Thrice in glad Hymns swell'd with the Great Ones praise,
61 The plyant Voyce on her sev'en steps they raise,
Whilst all th' enlivened Instruments around
To the just feet with various concord sound;
Such things were Muses then, contemn'd low earth;
Decently p [...]oud, and mindful of their birth.
'Twas God himself that here tun'ed every Toung;
And gratefully of him alone they sung.
62 They sung how God spoke out the worlds vast ball;
From Nothing, and from No where call'd forth All.
No Nature yet, or place for't to possess,
But an unbottom'ed Gulf of Emptiness.
Full of Himself, th'Almighty sat, his own
63 Palace, and without Solitude Alone.
But he was Goodness whole, and all things will'd;
Which ere they were, his active word fulfill'd;
And their astonisht heads o'th' sudden rear'ed;
An unshap'ed kind of Something first appeared,
Confessing its new Being, and undrest
As if it stept in haste before the rest.
Yet buried in this Matters darksome womb,
Lay the rich Seeds of ev'ery thing to com.
From hence the chearful Flame leapt up so high;
Close at its heels the nimble Air did fly;
Dull Earth with his own weight did downwards pierce
To the fixt Navel of the Universe,
And was quite lost in waters: till God said
To the proud Sea, shrink in your ins'olent head,
See how the gaping Earth has made you place;
That durst not murmure, but shrunk in apace.
Since when his bounds are set, at which in vain
He foams, and rages, and turns back again.
With richer stuff he bad Heav'ens fabrick shine,
And from him a quick spring of Light divine
Swel'd up the Sun, from whence his cher'ishing flame
Fills the whole world, like Him from whom it came.
He smooth'd the rough-cast Moons imperfect mold,
And comb'ed her beamy locks with sacred gold;
Be Thou (said he) Queen of the mournful night,
And as he spoke, she'arose clad o're in Light,
With thousand stars attending on her train;
With her they rise, with her they set again.
Then Herbs peep'ed forth, new Trees admiring stood,
And smelling Flow'ers painted the infant wood.
Then flocks of Birds through the glad ayr did flee,
Ioyful, and safe before Mans Luxurie,
Teaching their Maker in their untaught lays:
Nay the mute Fish witness no less his praise.
For those he made, and cloath'd with silver scales;
From Minoes to those living Islands, Whales.
Beasts too were his command: what could he more?
Yes, Man he could, the bond of all before;
In him he all things with strange order hurl'd;
In him, that full Abridgement of the World.
This, and much more of Gods great works they told;
His mercies, and some judgements too of old:
How when all earth was deeply stain'd in sin;
With an impetuous noyse the waves came rushing in.
Where birds ere while dwelt, and securely sung;
There Fish (an unknown Net) entangled hung.
The face of shipwrackt Nature naked lay;
The Sun peep'd forth, and beheld nought but Sea.
This men forgot, and burnt in lust again;
Till show'rs, strange as their Sin, of fiery rain,
And scalding brimstone, dropt on Sodoms head;
Alive they felt those Flames they fry in Dead.
No better end rash Pharaohs pride befel
When wind and Sea wag'ed war for Israel.
In his gilt chariots amaz'ed fishes sat,
And grew with corps of wretched Princes fat.
The waves and rocks half-eaten bodies stain;
Nor was it since call'd the Red sea in vain.
Much too they told of faithful Abrams fame,
64 To whose blest passage they owe still their Name:
Of Moses much, and the great seed of Nun;
What wonders they perform'd, what lands they won.
How many Kings they slew or Captive brought;
They held the Swords, but God and Angels fought.
Thus gain'd they the wise spending of their days▪
And their whole Life was their dear Makers praise.
No minutes rest, no swiftest thought they sold
To that beloved Plague of Mankind, Gold.
Gold for which all mankind with greater pains
Labour towards Hell, then those who dig its vains.
Their wealth was the Contempt of it; which more
They valu'd then rich fools the shining Ore.
The Silk-worm's pretious, death they scorn'd to wear,
And Tyrian Dy appear'd but sordid there.
Honor, which since the price of Souls became,
Seem'd to these great ones a low idle Name.
Instead of Down, hard beds they chose to have,
Such as might bid them not forget their Grave.
Their Board dispeopled no full Element,
Free Natures bounty thriftily they spent
And spar'ed the Stock; nor could their bodies say
We owe this Crudeness t'Excess yesterday.
Thus Souls live cleanly, and no soiling fear,
But entertain their welcome Maker there.
The Senses perform nimbly what they're bid,
And honestly, nor are by Reason chid.
And when the Down of sleep does softly fall,
65 Their Dreams are heavenly then, and mystical.
With hasty wings Time present they outfly,
And tread the doubtful Maze of Destiny.
There walk and sport among the years to come;
And with quick Eye pierce ev'ery Causes wombe:
Thus these wise Saints enjoy'd their Little All;
Free from the spight of much-mistaken Saul:
For if mans Life we in just ballance weigh,
David deserv'd his Envy less then They.
Of this retreat the hunted Prince makes choice,
Adds to their Quire his nobler Lyre and Voyce.
But long unknown even here he could not lye;
So bright his Lustre, so quick Envies Eye!
Th'offended Troop,
1 Sam. 19. 20.
whom he escap'ed before,
Pursue him here, and fear mistakes no more;
Belov'ed revenge fresh rage to them affords;
Some part of him all promise to their Swords:
They came, but a new spirit their hearts possest,
Scatt'ring a sacred calm through every brest:
The furrows of their brow, so rough erewhile,
Sink down into the dimples of a Smile.
Their cooler veins swell with a peaceful tide,
And the chaste streams with even current glide.
A sudden day breaks gently through their eyes,
And Morning-b [...]ushes in their cheeks arise.
The thoughts of war, of blood, and murther cease;
In peaceful tunes they adore the God of Peace.
New Messengers twice more the Tyrant sent,
Ib. v. 21.
And was twice more mockt with the same event.
His heightned rage no longer brooks delay;
It sends him there himself;
Ib. v. 23.
but on the way
His foolish Anger a wise Fury grew,
And Blessings from his mouth unbidden flew.
His Kingly robes he laid at Naioth down,
Began to understand and scorn his Crown;
Employ'd his mounting thoughts on nobler things;
And felt more solid joys then Empire brings.
Embrac'ed his wondring Son, and on his head
The balm of all past wounds, kind Tears he shed.
So cov'etous Balam with a fond intent
Of cursing the blest Seed,
Num. 22.
to Moab went.
But as he went his fatal tongue to sell;
His Ass taught him to speak, God to speak well.
Ib. v. 28.
How comely are thy Tents,
Num, 24. 5.
oh Israel!
(Thus he began) what conquests they foretel!
Less fair are Orchards in their autumn pride,
Adorn'd with Trees on some fair Rivers side.
Less fair are Valleys their green mantles spread!
Or Mountains with tall Cedars on their head!
'Twas God himself (thy God who must not fear?)
Brought thee from Bondage to be Master here.
Slaughter shall wear out these; new weapons get;
And Death in triumph on thy darts shall sit.
When Iudahs Lyon starts up to his prey,
The beasts shall hang their ears, and creep away.
When he lies down, the Woods shall silence keep,
And dreadful Tygers tremble at his sleep.
Thy Cursers, Iacob, shall twice cursed bee;
And he shall bless himself that blesses Thee.


1. THe custom of beginning all Poems, with a Proposition of the whole work, and an Invocation of some God for his assistance to go through with it, is so Solemnly and religiously observed by all the ancient Poets, that though I could have found out a better way, I should not (I think) have ventured upon it. But there can be, I believe, none better; and that part, of the Invocation, if it became a Hea­then, is no less then Necessary for a Christian Poet. A Iove princi­pium, Musae; and it follows then very naturally, Iovis omnia plena. The whole work may reasonably hope to be filled with a Divine Spirit, when it begins with a Prayer to be so. The Grecians built this Portal with less state, and made but one part of these Two; in which, and almost all things else, I prefer the judgement of the Latines; though generally they abused the Prayer, by converting it from the Deity, to the worst of Men, their Princes: as Lucan ad­dresses it to Nero, and Statius to Domitian; both imitating there­in (but not equalling) Virgil, who in his Georgicks chooses Augustus for the Object of his Invocation, a God little superior to the other two.

2. I call it Iudah's, rather then Israel's Scepter (though in the notion of distinct Kingdoms, Israel was very much the greater) First, be­cause David himself was of that Tribe. Secondly, because he was first made King of Iudah, and this Poem was designed no farther then to bring him to his Inauguration at Hebron. Thirdly, because the Monarchy of Iudah lasted longer, not onely in his Race, but out-lasted all the several races of the Kings of Israel. And lastly, and chiefly, because our Saviour descended from him in that Tribe, which makes it infinitely more considerable then all the rest.

3. I hope this kind of boast (which I have been taught by almost all the old Poets) will not seem immodest; for though some in other Languages have attempted the writing a Divine Poem; yet none, that I know of, hath in English: So Virgil says in the 3 of his Geor­gicks [Page 25]

Sed me Parnassi deserta per ardua dulcis
Raptat amor, juvat ire jugis, quà nulla priorum
Castaliam molli divertitur orbita clivo.

Because none in Latin had written of that subject. So Horace,

Libera, per vacuum posui vestigia princeps,
Non aliena meo pressi pede.—

And before them both Lucretius,

Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nullius antè
Trita solo, juvat integros accedere fontes
At (que) haurire—

And so Nemessarius,

—Ducit (que) per avia, quà sola nunquam
Trita rotis—

Though there he does wrong to Gratius, who treated of the same argument before him. And so Oppian, 1o Ven. [...]. My own allusion here is to the passage of the Israelites through the Wilderness, in which they were guided by a Pillar of Flame.

4. Though there have been three Temples at Ierusalem, the first built by Solomon, the second by Zorobabel, and the third by Herod (for it appears by Iosephus, that Herod pluckt down the old Temple, and built a new one) yet I mention onely the first, and last, which were very much superior to that of Zorobabel in riches and magni­ficence, though that was forty six years a building, whereas Herods was but eight, and Solomons seven; of all three the last was the most stately; and in that, and not Zorobabels Temple, was fulfilled the Prophesie of Hagai, that the glory of the last House should be great­er then of the first.

5. To be made an Apostle for the conversion of Poetry to Christianity, as S. Paul was for the conversion of the Gentiles; which was done not onely by the Word, as Christ was the Eternal Word of his Father; but by his becoming a Particular Word or Call to him. This is more fully explained in the Latin Translation.

6. It was the same case with Hercules; and therefore I am not afraid to apply to this subject that which Seneca makes Iuno speak of him in Hercul. Fur.

Superat, & crescit malis,
Irâ (que) nostrâ fruitur, in laudes suas
Mea vertit odia, dum nimis saeva impero.
Patrem probavi; gloriae feci locum.

And a little after,

Minor (que) labor est Herculi jussa exequi,
Quàm mihi jubere—

7. In the publique Games of Greece, Palm was made the sign and re­ward of Victory, because it is the nature of that Tree to resist, over­come, and thrive the better for all pressures,

—Palma (que) nobilis
Terrarum dominos evehit ad Deos. Hor. Od. 1.

[Page 26] From whence Palma is taken frequently by the Poets, and Orators too, for the Victory it self. And the Greek Grammarians say, that [...] (to overcome) is derived from the same sense, [...], à non cedendo.

8. Shore is properly spoken of the Sea, and Banks of Rivers: and the same difference is between Littus and Ripa; but yet Littus is fre­quently taken among the best Latin Authors for Ripa, as I do here Shore for Bank; Virgil

Littora quae dulces auras diffunditis agris,

Speaking of Minéius.

9. That the Matter of winds is an Exhalation arising out of the con­concavities, of the Earth, is the opinion of Aristotle, and almost all Philosophers since him, except some few who follow Hippocrates his doctrine, who defined the wind to be Air in motion, or flux. In those concavities when the Exhalations (which Seneca calls (Subterranean Clouds) overcharge the place, the moist ones turn into water, and the dry ones into Winds; and these are the secret Treasuries, out of which God is in the Scripture said to bring them. This was also meant by the Poets, who feign'd that they were kept by Aeolus, imprisoned in deep caves,

—Hic vasto Rex Aeolus antro
Luct antes ventos tempestates (que) sonoras
Imperio premit, ac vinclis & carcere fraenat.

Upon which methinks, Seneca is too critical, when he says, Non in­toller it, nec id quod clausum est, esse adhuc ventum, nec id quod ven­tus est, posse claudi; nam quod in clause est, quiescit, & aeris statio est, emnis in fugâ ventus est: For though it get not yet out, it is wind as soon as it stirs within, and attempts to do so. However, my Epithete of unfletcht Tempests might pass with him; for as soon as the wings are grown, it either flies away, or in case of extream resistance (if it be very strong) causes an Earthquake. Iuvenal Sat. 5. expresses very well the South wind, in one of these dens.

—Dum se continet Auster,
Dum sedet, & siccat madidas in carcere pennas.

10. To give a probable reason of the perpetual supply of waters to Fountains and Rivers, it is necessary to establish an Abyss or deep gulph of waters, into which the Sea discharges it self, as Rivers do into the Sea; all which maintain a perpetual Circulation of wa­ter, like that of Blood in mans body: For to refer the original of all Fountains to condensatîon, and afterwards dissolution of vapors under the earth, is one of the most unphilosophical opinions in all Aristotle. And this Abyss of waters is very agreeable to the Scriptures. Iacob blesses Ioseph with the Blessings of the heavens above, and with the Blessings of the Deep beneath; that is, with the dew and rain of heaven, and with the fountains and rivers that arise from the Deep; and Esdras conformably to this, asks, What habitations are in the heart of the Sea, and what veins in the root of the Abyss? So at the end of the Deluge, Moses says, that God stopt the windows of heaven, and the fountains of the Abyss.

And undisturb'd by Moons in silence sleep. For I suppose the Moon [Page 27] to be the principal, if not sole cause of the Ebbing and Flowing of the Sea, but to have no effect upon the waters that are beneath the Sea it self.

11. This must be taken in a Poetical sense; for else, making Hell to be in the Center of the Earth, it is far from infinitely large, or deep; yet, on my conscience, where ere it be, it is not so strait, as that Crowding and sweating should be one of the Torments of it, as is plea­santly fancied by Bellarmin. Lessius in his Book de Morib. Divinis, as if he had been there to survey it, determines the Diameter to be just a Dutch mile. But Ribera, upon (and out of the Apocalypse) allows Pluto a little more elbow-room, and extends it to 1600 furlongs, that is 200 Italian miles. Virgil (as good a Divine for this matter as any of them both) says it is twice as deep as the distance betwixt hea­ven and earth:

Bis patet in praeceps tantum. tendit (que) sub umbras
Quantus ad aethereum coeli supectus Olympum.

Hesiod is more moderate: [...]. Statius puts it very low, but is not so punctual in the distance: He finds out an Hell beneath the vulgar one,

Indespecta tenet vebis qui Tartara, quorum
Vos est is superi—

Which sure Aeschylus meant too by what he cals [...], the Scripture terms it Utter Darkness, [...], & [...]

12. There are two opinions concerning Samuels anointing of David: one (which is Iosephus his) that he did it privately, and that it was kept as a secret from Davids Father and Brethren; the other, that it was done before them, which I rather follow; and therefore we use the word Boldly: nay, I believe, that most of the people, and Ionathan, and Saul himself knew it, for so it seems by Sauls great jealousie of his being appointed to succeed him; and Ionathan avows his knowledge of it to David himself; and therefore makes a Cove­nant with him, that he should use his family kindly when he came to be King. Anointing did properly belong to the Inauguration of High Priests; and was applyed to Kings (and likewise even to Pro­phets) as they were a kind of extraordinary High Priests, and did often exercise the duties of their function, which makes me believe that Saul was so severely reproved and punished; not so much for of­fering Sacrifice (as an usurpation of the Priests office) as for his infideli­ty in not staying longer for Samuel, as he was appointed by Samuel; that is, by God himself. But there is a Tradition out of the Rabbins, that the manner of anointing Priests and Kings was different; as, that the Oyl was poured in a Cross (decussatim, like the figure of Ten X) upon the Priests heads, and Round in fashion of a Crown upon their Kings; which I follow here, because it sounds more poetically (The royal drops round his enlarged head) not that I have any faith in the authority of those Authors.

13. The Prophesie of Iacob at his death concerning all his Sons, Gen. 49. v. 10. The Scepter shall not depart from Iudah, nor the Law­giver from between his fect, till Shilo come, and to him shall [Page 28] belong the assembling of Nations. All Interpreters agree, that by Shilo is meant the Messias; but almost all translate it differently. The Septuagint, Donec veniant, [...], quae reposita sunt ei. Tertullian, and some other Fathers, Donec veniat cui repositum est. The vulgar Edition, Qui mittendus est; some of the Rabbies, Filius ejus; others, Filius mulieris others, Rex Messias; others, Sospi­tator, or Tranquillator; ours, and the French Translation retain the word Shilo, which I choose to follow.

14. Though none of the English Poets, nor indeed of the ancient Latine, have imitated Virgil in leaving sometimes half verses (where the sense seem to invite a man to that liberty) yet his authority alone is sufficient, especially in a thing that looks so naturally and grace­fully: and I am far from their opinion, who think that Virgil him­self intended to have filled up those broken Hemistiques: There are some places in him, which I dare almost swear have been made up since his death by the putid officiousness of some Grammarians; as that of Dido,

—Moriamur inultae?
Sed moriamur, ait.—

Here I am confident Virgil broke off; and indeed what could be more proper for the passion she was then in, then to conclude abrupt­ly with that resolution? nothing could there be well added; but if there were a necessity of it, yet that which follows, is of all things that could have been thought on, the most improper, and the most false,

Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras;

Which is contrary to her sense; for to have dyed revenged, would have been

Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras.

Shall we dye (says she) unrevenged? That's all that can make death unpleasant to us: but however it is necessary to dye. I remember, when I made once this exception to a friend of mine, he could not tell how to answer it, but by correcting the Print, and putting a note of Intorrogation after the first Sic.

Sic? sic juvat ire sub umbras:

Which does indeed a little mend the sense; but then the expression (to make an Interrogation of Sic alone) is lame, and not like the La­tin of Virgil, or of that age: But of this enough. Though the An­cients did not (as I said) imitate Virgil in the use of these broken verses; yet that they approved it, appears by Ovid, who (as Se­neca reports in the 16 Controversie) upon these two verses of Varro.

Desierant latrare canes, urbes (que) silebant,
Omnia noctis erant placidâ compôsta quiete,

Said they would have been much better, if the latter part of the se­cond verse had been left out; and that it had ended,

Omnia noctis erant—

Which it is pity that Ovid saw not in some of his own verses, as most remarkably in that,

Omnia pontus erant, deêrant quo (que) littora ponto,
All things was Sea, nor had the Sea a Shore.

[Page 29] Where he might have ended excellently with

Omnia pontus erat—

But the addition is superfluous, even to ridiculousness.

15. An Aposiopoesis, like Virgils

Quos ego—Sed motos praestat componere fluctus.

This would ill befit the mouth of any thing but a Fury; but it were improper for a Devil to make a whole speech without some lies in it; such are those precedent exaltations of the Devils power, which are most of them false, but not All, for that were too much even for a Fury; nor are her boasts more false, then her threatnings vain, where she says afterwards, 'Tis not thy God himself— yet Seneca ventures to make a man say as much in Her. Fur.

Amplectere aras, nullus eripiet Deus
Te m [...]hi—

16. Cain was the first and greatest example of Envy in this world; who slew his Brother, because his Sacrifice was more acceptable to God then his own; at which the Scripture says, He was sorely an­gred, and his countenance cast down. It is hard to guess what it was in Cains Sacrifice that displeased God; the Septuagint make it to be a defect in the Quality, or Quantity of the Offering, [...]; If thou hast offered right, but not rightly divided, hast thou not sinned? but this Tran­slation, neither the Vulgar Edition, nor ours, nor almost any fol­lows. We must therefore be content to be ignorant of the cause, since it hath pleased God not to declare it; neither is it declared in what manner he slew his Brother: And therefore I had the Li­berty to choose that which I thought most probable; which is, that he knockt him on the head with some great stone, which was one of the first ordinary and most natural weapons of Anger. That this stone was big enough to be the Monument or Tomb-stone of Abel, is not so Hyperbolical, as what Virgil says in the same kind of Turnus,

—Saxum circumspicit ingens,
Saxum antiquum ingens, campo qui fortè jacebat
Limes agro positus, litem ut discerneret agris,
Vix illud lecti bis sex cervice subirent,
Qualia nunc hominum producit corpora tellus,
Ille manu raptum trepidâ torquebat in hostem:

Which he takes from Homer, but adds to the Hyperbole, [...]. Il. 21. Ovid is no less bold, Metamorph. 12.

Codice qui misso quem vix juga bina moverent
Iuncta, Phololeniden à summo vertice fregit.

17. Though the Iews used to buty, and not to Burn the Dead, yet it is very probable that some Nations, even so anciently, practised Burning of them, and that is enough to make it allowable for the Fury here to allude to that custom: which if we believe Statius, [Page 28] [...] [Page 29] [...] [Page 30]was received even among the Graecians before the Theban War.

18. Belzebub. That one evil Spirit presided over the others, was not onely the received opinion of the ancients, both Iews and Gen­tiles; but appears out of the Scriptures, where he is called, Prince of this world▪ Iohn 12. 31. Prince of this age, Corinth. 11. 6. Prince of the power of the ayr, Ephes. 11. 2. Prince of Devils, Mat. 12. 24. by the express name of Belzebub, which is the reason why I use it here. Porphyrius says his name is Serapis, [...]. According to which Statius calls him Triplicis mundi summum; but names him not: for he addes, Quem scire nefastum est. This is the Spirit to whom the two verses, cited by the same Porphyry address themselves,


O thou Spirit that hast the command of guilty souls, beneath the vaults of the ayr, and above those of the eatth; which I should rather read [...]; And beneath the vaults of the earth too.

Now for the name of Belzebub, it signifies the Lord of Flies; which some think to be a name of scorn given by the Iews to this great Iupiter of the Syrians, whom they called [...], id est, [...], because the Sacrifices in his Temple were infested with multitudes of Flies, which by a peculiar priviledge, notwithstand­ing the darly great number of Sacrifices, never came (for such is the Tradition) into the Temple at Ierusalem. But others believe it was no mock-name, but a Surname of Baal, as he was worshipt at Ekron, either from bringing or driving away swarms of Flies, with which the Eastern Countreys were often molested; and their reason is, because Ahaziah in the time of his sickness (when it is likely he would not railly with the God from whom he hoped for relief) sends to him under this name of Belzebub.

19. That even insensible things are affected with horror at the presence of Devils, is a frequent exaggeration of stories of that kind; and could not well be omitted at the appearance of Poetical Spi­rits,

Tartaream intendit vocem, quà protinus omne
Contremuit nemus, & sylvae intonuere profundae.
Audiit & Triviae longè lacus, &c.—Virg. Aeneid. 7.

And Seneca nearer to my purpose in Thyestes: Sensit in­troitus tuos Domus, & nefando tota contactu horruit—Iam tuum moestiae[?] pedem Terrae gravantur, Cernis ut fontes liquor In­trorsus actus linquat, ut regio vacent, &c: And after, Imo mu­git è fundo solum, Tonat dies serenus ac totis domus ut fracta tectis crepuit, & moti Lares vertere vultum. When Statius makes the Ghost of Laius to come to Eteocles to encourage him to the war with his Brother, I cannot understand why he makes him assume the shape of Tiresias, Longaevi vatis opacos Induitur [Page 31] vultus, vocém (que) & vellera, since at his going away he discovers him to be Laius,

—Ramos, ac vellera fronti
Diripuit confessus avum—

Neither do I more approve in this point of Virgils method, who in the 7 Aeneid, brings Alecto to Turnus at first in the shape of a Priestes [...],

Fit Calybe Iunonis anus;—

But at her leaving of him, makes her take upon her, her own figure of a Fury, and so speak to him▪ which might have been done, me­thinks, as well at first, or indeed better not done at all; for no per­son is so imp [...]oper to perswade man to any undertaking, as the Devil without a disguise: which is the reason why I make him here both come in, and go out too in the likeness of Benjamin, who as the first and chief of Sauls Progenitors, might the most probably seem con­cern'd for his welfare, and the easiliest be believed and obeyed.

20. I fancy here that the statue of Benjamin stood in maner of a Co [...]ossus over Sauls gate; for which perhaps I shall have some Criticks fall severely upon me; it being the common opinion, that the use of all statues, nay, even pictures, or other representations of things to the sight, was forbidden the Iews. I know very well, that in latter ages, when they were most rigid in observing of the Letter of the Law (which they began to be about the time when they should have left it) even the civil use of Images was not allowed, as now among the Mahumetans. But I believe that at first it was otherwise: And first, the words of the Decalogue forbid the making of Images, not absolutely, but with relation to the end of bowing down, or wor­shipping them; and if the Commandment had implyed more, it would bind us Christians as well as the Iews, for it is a Moral one. Se­condly, we have several examples in the Bible, which shew that statues were in use among the Hebrews, nay, appointed by God to be so, as those of the Cherubins, and divers other Figures, for the or­nament of the Tabernacle and Temple; as that likewise of the Brazen Serpent, and the Lyons upon Solomons Throne, and the statue of David, placed by Michol in his Bed, to deceive the Souldiers who came to murder him; of which more particularly hereafter. Vasques says, that such Images onely were unlawful, as were Erectae aut con­stitutae modo accommodato adorationi, made, erected, or constituted in a Maner proper for Adoration; which Modus accommodatus ado­rationis, he defines to be, when the Image is made or erected Per se, for its own sake, and not as an Appendix or addition for the or­nament of some other thing; as for example, Statues are Idols, when Temples are made for them; when they are onely made for Temples, they are but Civil Ornaments.

21. Enchanted Vertues. That is, whose operation is stopt, as it were, by some Enchantment. Like that Fascination called by the French, Nouement d'esguillette, which hinders the natural faculty of gene­ration.

22. So Homer, [...] ▪ And Virg. O verè Phrygiae, ne (que) enim Phryges!

23. [Page 32]The number of years from Benjamin to Sauls reign; not exactly: but this is the next whole number, and Poetry will not admit of broken ones: and indeed, though it were in prose, in so passionate a speech it were not natural to be punctual.

24. In this, and some like places, I would not have the Reader judge of my opinion by what I say; no more then before in divers expressi­ons about Hell, the Devil, and Envy. It is enough that the Do­ctrine of the Orbs, and the Musick made by their motion had been received very anciently, and probably came from the Eastern parts; for Pythagoras (who first brought this into Greece) learnt there most of his Philosophy. And to speak according to common opinion, though it be false, is so far from being a fault in Poetry, that it is the custom even of the Scripture to do so; and that not onely in the Poetical pieces of it; as where it attributes the members and passions of mankind to Devils, Angels, and God himself; where it calls the Sun and Moon the two Great Lights, whereas the latter is in truth one of the smallest; but is spoken of, as it seems, not as it Is, and in too many other places to be collected here. Seneca upon Virgils Verse, ‘Tarda venit seris factura nepotibus umbram,’ Says in his 86 Epistle, That the Tree will easily grow up to give shade to the Planter: but that Virgil did not look upon, what might be spoken most Truly, but what most gracefully; and aimed more at Delighting his Readers, then at instructing Husbandmen: Infi­nite are the examples of this kind among the Poets; one there is, that all have from their Master Homer; 'tis in the description of a Tempest (a common place that they all ambitiously labour in) where they make all the four winds blow at once, to be sure to have enough to swell up their Verse,

Unà Eurús (que) Notús (que) ruunt, creber (que) procellis

And so all the rest. Of this kind I take those Verses to be of Sta­tius to Sleep in his fist Sylva, which are much commended, even by Scaliger himself,

—Iacet omne pecus, volucres (que) feraeque,
Et simulant fessos curvata cacumina somnos.

Hitherto there is no scruple; for he says onely, The bowing Moun­tains seem to nod. He adds,

Nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus, occidit horror
Aequoris, & terris maria inclinata quie scunt;

Which is false, but so well said, that it were ill changed for the Truth.

25. I am sorry that it is necessary to admonish the most part of Readers, that it is not by negligence that this verse is so loose, long, and, as it were, Vast; it is to paint in the number the nature of the thing which it describes, which I would have observed in divers other places of this Poem, that else will pass for very careless verses: as be­fore, And over-runs the neighb'ring fields with violent course. In the second Book, Down a praecipice deep, down he casts them all—and, [Page 33] And fell adown his shoulders with loose care. In the 3. Brass was his Helmet, his Boots brass, and ore his breast a thick plate of strong brass he wore. In the 4. Like some fair Pine ore-looking all th'ig­nobler Wood; and, Some from the Rocks cast themselves down head­long; and many more: but it is enough to instance in a few. The thing is, that the disposition of words and numbers should be such, as that out of the order and found of them, the things themselves may be represented. This the Greeks were not so accurate as to bind themselves to; neither have our English Poets observed it, for ought I can find. The Latines (qui Musas colunt severiores) some­times did it, and their Prince, Virgil, always. In whom the ex­amples are innumerable, and taken notice of by all judicious men, so that it is superfluous to collect them.

26. Eternity is defined by Boet. Lib. 5. de Consolat. Interminabilis vitoe tota simul & perfecta possessio. The whole and perfect pos­session, ever all at once, of a being without beginning or end­ing. Which Definition is followed by Tho: Aquin, and all the Schoolmen; who therefore call Eternity Nunc stans, a standing Now, to distinguish it from that Now, which is a difference of time, and is always in Fluxu.

27. Seneca, methinks, in his 58 Epist. expresses this more divinely then any of the Divines: Manent enim cuncta, non quia aeterna sunt, sed quià defenduntur curâ regent is, Immortalia tutore non egent, haec conservat Artifex, fragilitatem materiae vi suâ vin­cens. And the Schoolmen all agree (except, I think, Durandus) that an immediate Concurse of God is required as well now for the Conservation, as at first it was necessary for the Creation of the world, and that the nature of things is not left to it self to produce any action, without a concurrent act of God; which when he was pleased to omit, or suspend, the fire could not burn the three yong men in the red-hot furnace.

28. The Book of Tobias speaks of Seven Angels superior to all the rest; and this has been constantly believed according to the Letter, by the ancient Iews and Christians. Clem. Alex and, Stromat. 6. [...]. The Se­ven that have the greatest power, the First-born Angels; Tob. 12. 15. I am Raphael, one of the Seven holy Angels, which pre­sent the prayers of the Saints, and which go in and out before the glory of the Holy one; and this Daniel may very well be thought to mean, when he says, Chap. 10. 13. Lo Michael, one of the chief Princes came to help me. That some Angels were under the command of others, may be collected out of Zechar. 2. 3. where one Angel commands another; Run, speak to this young man, &c. and out of Rev. 12. 7. where Michael and his Angels, fought with the Dragon and his Angels. The number of just seven supreme Angels, Grotius conceived to be drawn from the seven chief Princes of the Persian Empire; but I doubt whether the seven there were so ancient as this Tradition. Three names of these seven the Scripture af­fords, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael; but for the other four, Oriphiel, Zachariel, Samael, and Anael, let the Authours [Page 34] of them answer, as likewise for their presiding over the Seven Planets.

The Verses attributed to Orpheus has an expression very like this of the Angels,


So Gabriel is called Luke 1. 19. [...]. He that stands before the face of God. And Daniel had his vision in­terpreted by one, [...], of the standers before God.

29. The Poets are so civil to Iupiter, as to say no less when he either Spoke, or so much as Nodded. Hom.

Virgil. Annuit, & totum nutu tremefecit Olympum.
Stat.—Placido quatiens tamen omnia vultu.

30. Friends in the plural, as an intimation of the Trinity; for which cause he uses sometimes We, and sometimes I, and Me.

31. I do not like Homers repeating of long messages just in the same words: but here I thought it necessary, the message coming from God, from whose words no creature ought to vary, and being delivered by an Angel, who was capable of doing it pun­ctually. To have made him say a long, eloquent, or figurative speech, like that before of Envy to Saul, would have pleased per­haps some Readers, but would have been a crime against [...], that is, Decencie.

32. That Timotheus by Musick enflamed and appeased Alexander to what degrees he pleased, that a Musician in Denmark by the same art enraged King Ericus, even to the striking of all his friends about him, that Pythagoras taught by the same means a woman to stop the fury of a young man, who came to set her house on fire; that his Schollar Empedocles hindred another from murdering his father, when the sword was drawn for that pur­pose; that the fierceness of Achilles his nature was allayed by playing on the harp (for which cause Homer gives him nothing else out of the spoils of Eëtion: that Damon by it reduced wild and drunken youths; and Asclepiades, even seditious multitudes to temper and reason; that the Corybantes and effeminate Priests of Cybele, could be animated by it to cut their own flesh (with many more examples of the like kind) is well known to all men conversant among Authors. Neither is it so wonderful, that sudden passions should be raised or supprest (for which cause Pindar says to his Harp, [...]. Thou quenchest the raging Thunder. But that it should cure set­tled diseases in the body, we should hardly believe, it we had not both Humane and Divine testimony for it. Plin. Lib. 28. cap. I. Dixit Homerus profluvinm sanguinis vulnerato [Page 35] femine Ulyssem inhibuisse carmine, Theophrastus Ischiadicos sanari, Cato prodidit luxatis membris carmen auxiliari. Mar. Varro Podagris; Where Carmen is to be understood as joyned with musical notes. For the cure of the Sciatick, Theophrastus commends the Phrygian Musick upon the Pipe, and A. Gell. for giving ease to it, Ut memo­riae proditum est, as it is (says he) reported. Apollon. in his Book de Miris speaks thus. It is worthy admiration, that which Theophrastus writes in his Treatise of Enthysiasm, that Musick cures many passi­ons and diseases, both of the Mind and Body, [...]. And the same Author wit­nesses, that many in his time, especially the Thebans, used the Pipe for the cure of several sicknesses, which Galen calls [...], Super loco affecto tibia canere; or, Loca dolentia decantare. So Zeno­crates is said to have cured Mad men, Terpander and Arion di­vers other Maladies. But if it were not for this example of Da­vid, we should hardly be convinced of this Physick, unless it be in the particular cure of the Tarantism, the experiments of which are too notorious to be denyed or eluded, and afford a probable argument that other diseases might naturally be expelled so-too, but that we have either lost, or not found out yet the Art. For the explication of the reason of these cures, the Magicians fly to their Colcodea; the Platoniques, to their Anima Mundi; the Rabbies to Fables and Prodigies not worth the repeating. Baptista Porta in his Natural Magick, seems to attribute it to the Magical Power of the Instrument, rather then of the Mu­sick; for he says, that Madness is to be cured by the harmony of a Pipe made of Hellebore, because the Iuice of that plant is held good for that purpose; and the Sciatique by a Musical In­strument made of Poplar, because of the virtue of the Oyle of that Tree to mitigate those kind of pains. But these, and ma­ny Sympathetical experiments are so false, that I wonder at the negligence or impudence of the Relators. Picus Mirand says, That Musick moves the Spirits to act upon the Soul, as Medicines do to operate upon the body, and that it cures the bo­dy by the Soul, as Physick does the Soul by the Body. I conceive the true natural reason to be, that in the same manner as Musical sounds move the outward ayr, so that does the Inward, and that the Spirits, and they the Humors (which are the seat of Diseases) by Condensation, Rarefaction, Dissipation, or Expulsion of Va­pors, and by Vertue of that Sympathy of Proportion, which I ex­press afterwards in Verse. For the producing of the effect desired, Athan. Kercherus requires four conditions: 1. Harmony. 2. Num­ber and Proportion. 3. Efficacious and pathetical words joyned with the Harmony (which (by the way) were fully and distinctly understood in the Musick of the Ancients.) And 4. An adapt­ing of all these to the Constitution, Disposition, and Inclinations of the Patient. Of which, and all things on this subject, he is well worth the diligent reading, Liber de Arte magnâ Consoni & Dissoni.

33. [Page 36] Scaliger in his Hypercrit. blames Claudian for his excursion con­cerning the burning of Aetna, and for enquiring the cause of it in his own person. If he had brought in, says he, any other person making the relation, I should endure it. I think he is too Hypercritical up­on so short a Digression; however, I choose here upon this new oc­casion, by the by to make a new short Invocation of the Muse, and that which follows, As first a various unform'ed, and is to be under­stood as from the person of the Muse. For this second Invocation upon a particular matter, I have the authority of Homer and Virgil; which nevertheless I should have omitted, had the digression been upon any subject but Musick. Hom. Il. 2.


And Virgil twice in the same Book (Aen. 7.)

Nunc age qui Reges, Erato—
Tu Vatem tu Diva mone, &c.—

And a little after,

Pandite nunc Helicona Deae, cantús (que) ciete—
Et meministis enim Divae, & memorare potestis,
Ad nos vix tenuis famae perlabitur auras.

34. I have seen an excellent saying of S. Augustines, cited to this purpose, Ordinem saeculorum tanquam pulcherrimum Carmen ex qui­busdam quasi antithet is honestavit Deus—sicut contraria contra­riis opposita sermonis pulchritudinem reddunt, ità quâdam non ver­borum sed rerum eloquentia contrariorum oppositione soeculi pulchritudo componitur. And the Scripture witnesses, that the World was made in Number. Weight, and Measure; which are all qualities of a good Poem. This order and proportion of things is the true Musick of the world, and not that which Pythagoras, Plato, Tully, Macrob. and many of the Fathers imagined, to arise audibly from the circumvolu­tion of the Heavens. This is their musical and loud voyce, of which David speaks, Psal. 19. The heavens declare the glory of the Lord— There is no Speech nor Language where their voyce is not heard. Their sound is gone out through all the Earth, and their words to the end of the world— Or as our Translation nearer the Hebrew (they say) renders it, Their Line is gone out, Linea, vel amuss is eorum. To shew the exactness of their proportion.

35. Even this distinction of sounds in the art of Musick, is thought by some to have been invented from the consideration of the elemen­tary qualities: In imitation of which, Orpheus is said to have formed an Harp with four strings, and set them to different Tunes: The first to Hypate, to answer to the Fire. The second to Parhypate, for the Water. The third to Paranete, for the Air. And the fourth to Nete, for the Earth.

36. Because the Moon is but 28 days, and Saturn above 29 years in finishing his course.

37. There is so much to be said of this subject, that the best way is to say nothing of it. See at large Kercherus in his 10 Book de Arte Consoni & Dissoni.

38. [Page 37]The Weapon salve.

39. The common Experiment of Sympathy in two Unisons, which is most easily perceived by laying a straw upon one of the strings, which will presently move upon touching the other.

40. Here may seem to want connexion between this verse and the Psalm. It is an Elleipsis, or leaving something to be understood by the Reader; to wit; That David sung to his Harp, before Saul, the ensuing Psalm. Of this kind is that in Virgil,

Iungimus hospitio dextras, & tecta subimus.
Templa Dei saxo venerabar structa vetusto.
Da propriam Thymbrae domum, &c.—

Where is understood Et venerans dixi, or some such words, which, methinks; are more gracefully omitted, then they could have been supplyed by any care. Though Scaliger be of another mind in the 4 Book of Poesie, where he says, that there are some places in Virgil, where the sense is discontinued and interrupted by the leaving out of some verses, through the overmuch severity of his judgement (moro­sissimo judicio) with an intent of putting in better in their place; and he instances in these, where for my part I should be sorry that Virgil himself had filled up the gap. The like Elleipsis is in his 5 Book, upon the death of Palinurus,

Multa gemens casu (que) animum percussus amici,
O nimium coelo & pelago confise sereno,
Nudus in ignotâ Palinure jacebis arenâ:

And such is that in Statius, 2 Theb.

—Ni tu Tritonia Virgo
Consilio dignata virum.—Sate gente superbi
Oeneos, absentes cui dudum vincere Thebas

And why do I instance in these, since the examples are so frequent in all Poets?

41. For this liberty of inserting an Ode into an Heroick Poem, I have no authority or example; and therefore like men who venture up­on a new coast, I must run the hazard of it. We must sometimes be bold to innovate,

Nec minimum meruere decus vestigia Graeca
Ausi deserere—Hor.

42. Psal. 58. 5. They are like the deaf Adder, that stoppeth her ear, which will not hearken to the voyce of the Charmer, charm he never so wisely. So Ierem. 8. 17. Behold I will send Serpents, Cockatrices among you, which will not be charmed. Serpentes Regulos quibus non est Incantatio: which Texts are ill produced by the Magick-mongers for a proof of the power of Charms. For the first is plainly against them, Adder being there taken for Serpent in general, not for one Species of Serpents, which alone had a quality of resisting Incanta­tions. And the other is no more then if the Prophet should have said, Though you practice Magick Arts, like other Nations; and think like them, that you can charm the very Serpents, yet you shall find with all your Magick, no remedy against those which I shall send among you; for nothing in all the whole humane, or diabo­lical [Page 36] [...] [Page 37] [...] [Page 38]Illusion of Magick was so much boasted of as the power of Spells upon Serpents, they being the creatures most antipathetical and terrible to humane nature.

Frigidus in pratis cantando rumpitur anguis. Virg.
Vipereas rumpo verbis & carmine fauces. Ovid.
In (que) pruinoso coluber distenditur arvo,
Viperei coëunt abrupto corpore nodi,
Humano (que) cadit Serpens afflata veneno. Lucan.

43. Nothing is more notorious (for it was accounted one of the won­ders of the World) then the [...], ren­dred by the Latines, Hortus pensilis at Babylon, which was planted on the top of prodigious buildings, made for that purpose, fifty cubits high, foursquare, and each side containing four Acres of ground. It was planted with all sorts of Trees, even the greatest, and adorned with many Banquetting-houses. The particular descri­ption see in Diodor. Sicul. l. 11. and out of him in Qu. Curt. 1. 5. It was built, they say, by a Syrian King (to wit, Nabucodonosar, for so Io­sephus, l 10. and Suidas expresly say) in favour of a Persian Wife of his, who as Q. Curt. speaks, Desiderio nemorum sylvarum (que) in cam­pestribus locis virum compulit naturae genium amoenitate hujus operis imitari. And D. Chrysostome mentions another of the like kind at Susae, in his Sermon of Riches, [...]. These were miracles of their kind; but the use of Gardens made upon the top of Palaces, was very frequent among the ancients, Seneca, Trag. Act. 3. Thyest.

Nulla culminibus meis Imposita nutat sylva. Sen. Epist. 122. Non vivunt contra naturam qui pomaria in summis turribus serunt? quorum silvae in tect is domorum ac fastigiis nutant, inde ortis radici­bus, quò improb&é cacumina egissent. Plin. In tecta olim Romae scan­debant silvae; Which luxury, as all others, came out of Asia into Europe; and that it was in familiar use among the Hebrews, even in Davids time, several Texts of Scripture make me conjecture, 2 Sam. 26. 22. They spread for Absalom a Tent upon the Top of the House, and Absalom went unto his fathers concubines in the sight of all Israel, 2 Sam. 11. 2. And it came to pass in an evening, that David arose from off his bed, and walked upon the roof of the Kings house; and from the roof he saw a woman washing herself. And 1 Sam. 9. 25. Samuel communed with Saul upon the top of the house. And again, verse 26.

44. 1 Sam. 19. 13. And Michol took an image, and put it in the bed, and put a pillow of goats hair for his [...]olster, and covered it with a cloath. An Image, the Hebrew is Theraphim, a word much disputed of, and hardly ever used in a good sense but here. The Images that Rachel stole from Laban, are so called; which there the Septuagint tran­slate by [...], in other places by [...] or [...], some­times by [...], here by [...], the most improperly of all, Herse or the representations of the Dead, laid upon Herses. The Latine uses Simulachrum, or Statua, and Aquila, [...]. The fancy of Iosephus is extraordinarily Rabbinical. He says, that Michol [Page 39] put between the cloathes the Liver of a she Goat, newly cut out, and shewed the palpitation of it under the coverlet to the Souldiers saying that it was David, and that he had not slept all night: How come such men as he to have such odd dreams? Ribera upon Hosea says thus, What Statue was it that she placed in the bed? Certain­ly no Idol, for those were not to be found in the house of David; nor any Astronomical Image, made for the reception of celestial influences, which R. Abraham believes, for those were not allowable among the Iews; but she made some figure like a man, out of seve­ral cloathes, which she stuft with other things, like Scar-crows, or those figures presented to wild Bulls in the Theaters, or those that are placed upon great mens Herses. And she put the skin of a she­Goat about his head, to represent his red hair; which last is most ri­diculous, and all before onely improbable: For what time had she to make up such a Puppet? I do therefore believe, that she had a statue of David in the house, and laid that in the bed, pretending that he was speechless; and even this deceit I am forced to help, with all the circumstances I could imagine, especially with that most ma­terial one, And for th'impression God prepared their sense. And now concerning the Civil use of Images among the Iews, I have declared my opinion before, which whether it be true or no, is not of impor­tance in Poetry, as long as it hath any appearance of probability.

45. It was a necessary condition required in all Sacrifices, that they should be without Blemish. See Levit. 1. and this was observed too among the Heathen.

46. Rama, or Ramatha, and Naioth, were not several Towns, but Naioth was a place in, or close by Rama, where there were wont to be solemn Religious meetings. Adricom.

47. The Description of the Prophets Colledge at Naioth, looks at first sight, as if I had taken the patern of it from ours at the Uni­versities; but the truth is, ours (as many other Christian customs) were formed after the example of the Iews. They were not pro­perly called Prophets, or foretellers of future things, but Religious persons, who separated themselves from the business of the world, to employ their time in the contemplation and praise of God; their manner of praising him was by singing of Hymns, and playing upon Musical Instruments: for which cause in 1 Sam. 10. 5. they carry­ed with them a Psaltery, Tabret, Pipe, and Harp; These it is pro­bable were instituted by Samuel; for the 19, and 20. they saw the the company of Prophets prophesying (that is, saw them together in Divine Service) and Samuel standing, as appointed over them, Stan­tem super cos; which the Chaldee interprets Stantem docentem eos, Preaching to them. These are the first Religious Orders heard of in Antiquity, for whom David afterward composed Psalms. They are called by the Chaldee Scribes, because they laboured in reading, writing, learning and teaching the Scriptures; and they are called Filii Prophetarum, as 2 King. 2. 3. The Sons of the Prophets that were at Bethel; and v. 5. the Sons of the Prophets that were at Iericho: out of which may be collected, that Colledges of them were founded in several Towns. They are thus named (Sons of [Page 40] the Prophets) either because they were taught by Samuel, Elias, Elisha, or some of the great and properly called Prophets, or in the sense that the Greeks term Physicians, [...], The Sons of the Physicians; and the Hebrews Men, the Sons of Men, but I ra­ther believe the former, and that none but the young Scholars or Students are meant by this appellation. To this alludes S. Matth. 11. 19. Wisdom is justified of her Children. And the Masters were called Fathers, as Elisha to Elijah, 2 King. 2. 12. My Father, my Father, &c.

48. For the several Sprinklings and Purifications by water, command­ed in the Law of Moses, and so often mentioned in the Books of Exod. Levit. Numb. and Deuteron. the omission of which, in some cases was punished with no less then Death, Exod. 30. 20.

49. I have learned much of my Masters, or Rabbies, more of my Compa­nions, most of my Scholars, was the speech of an ancient Rabbi; from whence we may collect this distinction, of Scholars, Companions, and Rabbies, or Doctors. The chief Doctors fate in the Synagogues, or Schools, in high chairs (perhaps like Pulpits) the Companions upon Benches below them, and the Scholars on the ground at the feet of their Teachers, from whence S. Paul is said to be brought up at the feet of Gamaliel; and Mary sate at Iesus his feet, and heard his word, Luke 10. 39. After the Scholars had made good progress in learning, they were Elected and made, by imposition of hands, Com­panions to the Rabbies, like our Fellows of Colleges to the Masters, which makes me call them Th'Elect Companions.

50. The Furniture of the Prophet Elisha's chamber, 2 Kings 4. 10.

51. It was the ancient custom to cover the Seats and Table-Beds with Beasts skins: So Eumaeus places Ulysses, Odyss. 14.

Collocavit super pellem villosoe silvestris caprae.

So Euander Aeneas, 8 Aeneid.

Praecipuum (que), toro & villosi pelle Leonis
Accipit Aeneam.—
Ovid. Qui poterat pelles addere, dives erat.

52. There is a great dispute among the Learned, concerning the an­tiquity of this custom of Lying down at meat; and most of the Critiques are against me, who make it here so ancient. That the Ro­mans at first used sitting at Table, is affirmed by Pliny; that the Grae­cians did so too, appears by Athenaeus, l. 7. c. 15. That in our Saviours time (long before which the Romans and Graecians had changed sit­ting into lying) the Iews lay down is plain from the several words used in the New Testament upon this occasion, as [...], Luk. 22. [...], Matth. 26. [...], Luke 14. [...], Mat. 14. so Iohn is said to lean on Iesus bosom, Ioh. 13. 23. that is, lay next to him at the feast; and alluding to this custom, Christ is said to be in the bosom of his Father, and the Saints in the bosom of Abra­ham. Some think the Iews took this fashion from the Romans af­ter they were subdued by them, but that is a mistake; for the Ro­mans rather took it from the Eastern people: even in the Prophets time we have testimony of this custom, EZek. 23. 41. Thou satest [Page 41] upon a stately bed, and a table prepared before it, Amos 2. 8. They lay themselves upon cloathes laid to pledge by every Altar; that is, They used garments laid to pledge instead of Beds, when at the Altars they eat things sacrificed to Idols. What was the fashion in Samuels time, is not certain; it is probable enough for my turn, that Discubation was then in practice, and long before; for the plucking off their shoes when they went to Table, seems to imply it, that being done to preserve the Beds clean. And why had the Iews a strict particular command to have their shoes on their feet at the eating of the Passover, but because they were wont to have their shoes off at other meals?

53. There is no matter capable of receiving the marks of Letters, that hath not been made use of by the ancients for that purpose. The twelve Tables of the Roman Laws were engraven in Brass; so was the League made with the Latines, Liv. Dec. j. Lib. 2. and Tatus a­mong the Cretans was seigned to be a Man made of Brass by Vulcan (of whom they report many ridiculous stories) because he carried about in that Country the Laws graven in brass, and put them se­verely in execution. Pausan. in Boetius makes mention of the whole Book of Hesiods [...], written in Lead; which kind of plates, Sueton. in Nerone calls Chartam plumbeam, Leaden paper. This fashion was in use before Iobs time; for he says, Iob 19. 23, 24. Oh that my words were graven with an Iron pen and Lead in the rock for ever. Rock, that is, the Leaden plates should be placed upon Rocks or Pillars. They likewise anciently engraved the very pil­lars themselves; as those two famous ones of Enoch, one of which was extant even in Iasephus his days. And Iamblicus avows, that he took the principles of his mystical Philosophy from the Pillars of Mercurie. Plin. l. 7. 56. reports, that the Babylonians and Assy­rians write their Laws in Coctis lateribus, that is, Pillars of Brick. Moses his in Stone. Horace,

Non incisa not is marmor a publicis.

But of this kind of writing, I was not to make mention in a private Library. They used also of old Plates or Leaves of Ivory; from whence they were termed Libri Elephantini; not as some conceive, from their bigness. Mart.

Nigra tibi niveum littera pingat ebur.

As for Wood and Slates, we may easily believe, that they and all o­ther capable materials were written upon. Of thin shavings of wood the Longobards at their first coming into Italy, made Leaves to write on; some of which Pancirollus had seen and read in his time.

54. See Plin. l. 13. 11. From whence Letters are called Phoenicean, not from the Country, but from [...], a Palm Tree. But Guiland. de Papyro thinks that Phoenicea in Pliny is not the same with [...], and has a long discourse to prove that Palm Leaves were not in use for writing, and that we should read Malvarum instead of Palmarum, which is a bold correction upon very slight grounds. It is true, they did anciently write too upon Mallows, as appears by Isidor. and the Epigram of Cinna cited by him: [Page 42]

Haec tibi Arateis multùm invigilata lucernis
Carmina queis ignes novimus aethereos,
Laevis in aridulo Malvoe descripta libello
Prusiacâ vexi munera naviculâ.

But this was a raritie; for Mallows are too soft to be proper for that use. At Athens the names of those who were expelled the Senate, were written in some kind of Leaf, from whence this sen­tence was called [...], as the names of t