The Preface to the Reader.

THe Authors friend, will not usurpe much upon thy eye: This is onely for those, whom the name of our Divine Poet hath not yet seized into admirati­on, I dare undertake, that what Jamb­licus (in vita Pythagorae) affirmeth of his Master, at his Contemplations, these Poems can, viz. They shal lift thee Reader, some yards above the ground: and, as in Pythagoras Schoole, every temper was first tuned into a height by severall pro­portions of Musick; and spiritualiz'd for one of his weighty Lectures; S [...] maist [Page] thou take a Poem hence, and tune thy soule by it, into a heavenly pitch; and thus refined and borne up upon the wings of meditation. In these Poems thou maist talke freely of God, and of that other state.

Here's Herbert's second, but equall, who hath retriv'd Poetry of late, and re­turn'd it up to its Primitive use; Let it bound back to heaven gates, whence it came. Thinke yee, St. Augustine would have steyned his graver Learning with a booke of Poetry, had he fancied their dearest end to be the vanity of Love-Sonnets, and Epithalamiums? No, no, he thought with this, our Poet, that every foot in a high-borne verse, might helpe to measure the soule into that better world: Divine Poetry; I dare hold it, in posi­tion against Suarez on the subject, to be the Language of the Angels; it is the Quintessence of Phantasie and discourse center'd in Heaven; 'tis the very Out­goings of the soule; 'tis what alone our Author is able to tell you, and [Page] that in his owne verse.

It were prophane but to mention here in the Preface those under-headed Poets, Retainers to seven shares and a halfe; Madrigall fellowes, whose onely businesse in verse, is to rime a poore six-penny soule, a Subburd sinner into hell; — May such arrogant pretenders to Poetry va­nish, with their prodigious issue of tumo­rous heats and flashes of their adulterate braines, and for ever after, may this our Poet fill up the better roome of man, Oh! when the generall arraignment of Poets shall be, to give an accompt of their higher soules, with what a triumphant brow, shall our divine Poet sit above, and looke downe upon poore Homer, Virgil, Horace, Claudian? &c. who had amongst them the ill lucke to talke out a great part of their gallant Genius upon Bees, Dung, froggs, and Gnats, &c. and not as himselfe here, upon Scriptures, divine Graces, Martyrs and Angels.

Reader, we stile his Sacred Poems, Stepps to the Temple, and aptly, for [Page] in the Temple of God, under his wing, he led his life in St. Maries Church neere St. Peters Colledge: There be lodged un­der Tertullian's roofe of Angels: There he made his nest more gladly then Da­vid's Swallow neere the house of God: where like a primitive Saint, he offered more prayers in the night, then others usually offer in the day; There, he penned these Poems, Stepps for happy soules to [...]limbe heaven by.

And those other of his pieces intituled, The Delights of the Muses, (though of a more humane mixture) are as sweet as they are innocent.

The praises that follow are but few of many that might be conferr'd on him, hee was excellent in five Languages (besides his Mother tongue) vid. Hebrew, Greek, Latine, Italian, Spanish, the two last whereof hee had little helpe in they were of his owne acquisition.

Amongst his other accomplishments in Accademick (as well pious as harm­lesse arts) hee made his skill in Poetry [Page] Musicke, Drawing, Limming, graving, (exercises of his curious invention and sudden fancy) to bee but his subservi­ent recreations for vacant houres, not the grand businesse of his soule.

To the former Qualifications I might adde that which would crowne them all, his rare moderation in diet (almost Lessian temperance) hee never created a Muse out of dist [...]mpers, nor with our Canary scribblers) cast any strange mists of surfets before the Intelectuall beames of his mind or memory, the lat­ter of which, hee was so much a master of, that hee had there under locke and key in readinesse, the richest treasures of the best Greeke and Latine Poets, some of which Authors hee had more at his command and by heart, then others that onely read their workes, to retaine little, and understand lesse.

Enough Reader, I intend not a vo­lume of praises, larger then his booke, nor need I longer transport thee to thinke over his vast perfections, I will [Page] conclude all that I have impartially writ of this Learned young Gent. (now dead to us) as hee himselfe doth, with the last line of his Poem upon Bishop Andrews Picture before his Sermons Verte paginas.