MISCELLANY POEMS.
On the Right Honourable John Earl of Rutland, &c.
OFF-spring of Hero's! Who art truly Great,
Above the reach of pleas'd, or angry, Fate;
And equally dost scorn her smile and hate.
In Innocence and Vertuous Courage safe,
Above the World, You at its Troubles laugh:
Nor can its Pageantry attract your Eyes;
You fear not one, and th' other You despise.
A Life like this did Atticus commend,
The pride of glorious Rome and Tully's Friend,
Who 'n Rome none of its Civil wars did feel,
With no Commotions of the State did reel,
But in the world scarce with the World did deal.
"Tis the world's Imperfection still to want,
"And satisfaction, nor to have, nor grant;
"But with incessant pains to tear the Breast,
"And beg of every helpless Cause for rest.
Angelick Natures our weak state exceed,
Their Purity's from taint of Matter freed,
Their Knowledge no increase or growth doth need.
In this they most show our confined store;
They are so happy, they can wish no more.
Ambition is the Feaverish Soul's disease,
Which restless seeks for something, that may please.
[Page 2]About with them their Malady they bear,
And wheresoe're they fly, they find it near,
And grope for help around and grasp the Air.
"Content's not there: He that doth strive for more
"Doth live uneasie with his present store.
"The wise Man doth Retirement's pleasures know,
"And's never less alone, than when he's so.
Fools are for nothing fit; the Middle Size
Drive on the Business of the world and Noise,
The Highest Souls to Nobler pleasures rise.
Out of the reach of Fortune they are plac'd,
Draughts of Sublime AEthereal Joys do tast,
Whom no Misfortunes break, nor Time doth wast
So Adam in his Paradise did live,
Bless'd in himself and his beloved Eve.
Er'e Glory drew unwary Eyes aside,
Er'e Gold did or'e the servile Troops preside:
And to all Mischief ope'd a passage wide.
Er'e glittering Courts Mens yielding Minds did sway,
Did all their tender precious Hours betray;
Whose loss not all their hopes and golden dreams could pay.
[...]r'e Men their Ease barter'd for Gold or State,
And sold themselves at an Unworthy rate:
E [...]'e Vice on Innocency's Tomb did grow:—
Such is Your Life, and such a Paradise have You.
Who in Your Self find Native Inborn store,
No [...] from the World do need to borrow more.
For he, that wants, thô ne'r so rich, is poor.
A scheme of Life, like Yours, Lucretius laid,
(Whose Boundless Wit all Nature's works, survey'd)
And fitted to th' Immortal Gods, he made:
He gave them what would most Divinely please;
And [...] them up in bless'd Content and Ease.
To the Right Honourable Katherine Countess of Rutland.
THE Cautious Heathens, er'e they would admit
Their Poets of their Deities to treat,
First at their Altars made them Homage pay,
And purge their Dross and looser Strains away:
That the Exalted Purified mind
Might Notions fit for Heavenly Beings find.
So the bold Artist, that of You would speak,
Should Patterns from Celestial Natures take;
And stamp his Soul in an Angeli [...]k Mold;
Er'e he Your Vertues should attempt to' unfold.
In highest Sciences we words do want;
Expressions, that may give our Notions vent:
Thus Rhet'rick dumb at Your Perfections grows;
Our Language then, that 'tis defective, shows.
And thô those Flowers, which other Tongues refine,
She doth unto her Treasures wisely join;
All's yet too low for Subjects so Divine.
Homer the Language of the Heavens could tell,
Mysterious Secrets of the Gods reveal:
He that, how Good, of Great You are, would show,
Had need the Depth of Heavenly wisdom know:
For all we deal with here doth flag too low.
Angels the Mighty work should undertake,
And shew what Words they for such Merits make.
Had You liv'd in those Fabulous Ages, when
The Heavenly Seats he [...]d Colonies of Men;
When every Spark of Worth or Mounting Fire
Durst up into a Deity aspire;
[Page 4]What Deities had Your Perfections showd,
How many from Your Single Worth had flow'd?
Each Vertue had a God or Goddess given,
And You could from Your Self have peopled Heaven.
Nor of this Age alone extends Your Fame,
The Times to come shall spread Your Glorious Name.
And wheresoer'e the Name of MANNERS flies,
(A Name that doth all Excellence comprize)
As down the Ages it doth pass along,
You'l be the Subject of their Gratefull song:
And with Your Beauteous Offspring fix it fast,
Coëval with the World and Time to last.
And as Great Caesar's haughty Name did come
Successively to all, that govern'd Rome;
Your Name, like Incence, shall descend to story,
And be the Age's Bliss and Sexe's Glory.
And all, whose Generous Breasts aspire to Fame,
With decent boldness shall assume Your Name,
Which in all Ages shall be understood
Significant for what is Great or Good.
Had but the Early Centuries, that could find
The Vertues and the Graces Woman-kind,
Seen the Fair Draughts of Your Celestial Mind:
New Sexes to their Deities they 'had given,
Nor left one Single God to rule in Heaven.
On the Lord Roos, Eldest Son of the Earl of Rutland.
WHen common Work for Painters hands doth call,
Rude artless Draughts do from their Pencils fall;
[Page 5]Adapted to the judgment of the Crowd,
No Dancing Life doth make the Members proud:
[...]ut when a Celebrated Piece doth sit,
For Wisdom known, for Beauty, or for Wit;
The a [...]tfull strokes do Life and Vigor breathe,
And steal an Immortality from Death.
So Nature, when the Common Herd she makes,
Rough worthless Matter from base Rubbish takes:
Careless in any Shape she molds the Clay,
No Beauteous Characters thereon doth lay:
To the Dull lump no cost she doth impart,
Course the Materials and as course the Art.
But when some Godlike Birth she would improve,
That draws his Sparkling Line from Thundring Iove:
With her bright Seal she stamps him for her own,
In dazling Hieroglyphicks writes him down.
For's Body takes Materials, fair as those,
That do the Mass of Common Soul's compose:
Fills it with every Vertue, every Grace,
And heavenly Beauties in the M [...]nd doth place:
Vertues, that soar far above Common ken,
Known but to Angels, and Seraphick Men!
So Nature, Princely Youth, with you did deal,
With Excellence did Soul and Body fill:
And that it might not Casual appear,
A Turn of G [...]eatness and a Generous Air,
A shining S [...]i [...]it thrô the Whole did bear.
Rays, such s [...]own the Gods, o're all did fly
And every [...]d breathe Divinity.
Others wi [...]ious steps to Vertue rise.
Break to't thrô crowds of pressing Enemies;
Must violence on headst [...]ong Nature lay,
Unhinge the Passions, er'e they will obey:
[Page 6]Which, like tame Lions, if not rul'd by Art,
Will back into their Natural wildness start:
Like Countries, that but newly are subdu'd,
Will soon rebell and cast off Servitude.
Your Happy Mind inherent Vertue bears,
The Gift of Heaven and of Your Ancesters.
Others attain't; an Habit 'tis in You,
What others do to Pains and Culture owe,
In Your Great Mind doth Naturally grow.
Your Family's Vertues so upon You wait,
It doth the Question put beyond debate,
That Parents Children's Souls do generate.
Grant blessed Heaven, Your Worth mayn't fatal be;
Nor too soon purchase Immortality! —
And when Your Wisdom and Your Worth are known,
To th' wo [...]ld Your Candor and Your Goodness shown:
And when those Vertues, that to Age belong,
Shall in Your Youthfull Breast be found to throng:
Let not too soon bless'd Souls for You make room,
Nor Death believe You old and sign Your doom.
On an Indian Tomineios, the Least of Birds.
I.
IM'E made in sport by Nature, when
Shee's tir'd with the stupendious weight
Of forming Elephants and Beasts of State;
Rhinocerots, that love the Fen;
The Elkes, that scale the hills of Snow,
And Lions couching in their awfull Den:
These do work Nature hard, and then
[Page 7]Her wearied Hand in Me doth show,
What she can for her own Diversion doe.
II.
Man is a little World ('tis said)
And I in Miniature am drawn,
A Perfect Creature, but in Short-hand shown.
The Ruck, in Madagascar bred,
(If new Discoveries Truth do speak)
Whom greatest Beasts and armed Horsemen dread,
Both Him and Me one Artist made:
Nature in this Delight doth take,
That can so Great and Little Monsters make.
III.
The Indians me a Sunbeam name,
And I may be the Child of one:
So small I am, my Kind is hardly known.
To some a sportive Bird I seem,
And some believe me but a Fly;
Th [...] me a Feather'd Fowl the Best esteem:
What er'e I am, I'me Nature's Gemm;
And, like a Sunbeam from the Sky.
I can't be follow'd by the quickest Eye.
IV.
I'me the true Bird of Paradise,
And heavenly Dew's my only Meat:
My Mouth so small, 'twill nothing else admit.
No Scales know how my weight to poise,
So Light, I seem condensed Air;
And did at th' End of the Creation rise,
When Nature wanted more Supplies,
When she could litte Matter spare,
[...]ut in Return did make the work more Rare.
Claudian's Eagle.
THE Eagle doth not let his Eaglets rove,
Till th' Sun doth their Legitimacy prove.
When kindly heat doth the ripe Brood reveal,
And swelling Births do break the tender shell;
He turns his unsledg'd Off-spring to the sky,
And bids them look on Heaven with daring Eye.
Well the discerning Rays he views, to see
What will their Nature, Strength and Vigor be.
The Spurious Bird, that can't the Sunbeams bear,
His Father's Talons do in pieces tear:
But He, that views the Sun with daring sight,
Nor shrinks at, what dazzles all else, the Light;
Nurs'd up with love becomes his Father's Heir
Destin'd the mighty Thunderer to bear.
The Fisherman and Treasure.
BEneath a shade, that overlook'd a Sea,
To whom a Chrystal stream did Homage pay,
A Fisher, a [...]m'd with skill and patience, s [...]ood,
Whose Age bespoke him Native of the flood:
By' whose Antick look and garb the Fish deceiv'd,
Him but a Tree's poor leafless Trunk believ'd:
Round whom the c [...]edulous Fry did fearless play,
While he with Specious baits did them betray.
It happ'd, as he his quiet Art employ'd,
Which him with Sport and Livelihood suppli'd,
Something far off did on a Billow ride;
[Page 9]And as he watch'd his Quill with patient care,
The moving Waves had brought the body near.
A lovely Youth, perhaps some Virgin's flame,
Perhaps his Father's joy, that should uphold his Name,
With mournfull Miene, to beg a Burial came.
The Aged Fisher the sad Object view'd.
And doubly him with briny Tears bedew'd.
"Death makes a dreadfull change! perhaps (said he)
"Thou mightst the Favourite of some Monarch be:
"Nothing is spar'd by Death or by the Sea.
"Perhaps, said he, some Love-sick Maid doth wait
"Thy safe return, nor dreams of thy sad fate;
"Counts every Moment of thy tedious stay,
"And thinks each hour an Age doth bear away!
"To our own doom we'r Ignorant and blind,
"Much less, what haps to distant friends, can find.
"Perhaps—alas, what may not we suppose;
"And yet what thoughts shall we in errour loose?
"Time past lyes hid, as well as Time to come,
"And we of both in vain enquire the doom.
"Physiognomists pretend events to tell,
"But can't, what hapned to the dead, reveal:
"Both unintelligible Mysteries ly,
"What hath been, or what future times shall be.
"That which is sure, is, thou dost want a Grave,
"The resting place indulgent Nature gave,
"That, which the Rich with all their Treasures buy,
"Nor Mother Earth doth to the Poor deny,
"Where Kings and Peasants, Spades and Sceptersly.
"Thy restless Soul wanders in devious ways,
"Not suffered the Stygian Lake to pass;
"While thy cold Members dance upon the Sea,
"And thy unburied Corps a prey doth ly.
"There is a debt we owe to all Mankind,
[Page 10]"Not to Relations or to Friends confin'd;
"The whole World in our kindness claims a share,
"And every One in need demands our Care.
"Thou noting needest, and dost nothing crave,
"But, what's in all Mens power to give, a Grave.
"Riches I've none, nor dost thou need them now,
"That which I have I freely will bestow,
"A Grave is the last Favour I can show.
The Gods the Aged Man's intention heard,
And, that his piety they might reward,
Where he a Grave with trembling Members made,
A mass of Treasure underneath convey'd.
Vertue, that seldom her Reward doth gain,
But cloath'd in Rags despised doth remain,
While gilded Vice in costly State doth Reign,
Rich now by th' gift of Bounteous Heaven doth grow;
Who to th' mistaken World design'd to show,
What is to Piety and Vertue due.
On the Lady Bridget Noel.
WOnder of Nature! never yet
So bright a Soul and fair a Body met,
A Iewell worthy such a Cabinet:
Nature her gifts us'd wisely to dispence,
And with good Miene supply the Want of sence.
In You the stores of Wit and Beauty meet,
This Decks your Face, and that your Mind:
Heaven's Treasures are in You combin'd,
And every God with gifts your Birth did greet.
II.
Angels to You do brag they'r kin,
Whose Soul doth thrô your Chrystal body shine;
And what appears without comes from within.
Your Body such, as Goddesses put on,
When they to meet their Earthly Loves come down.
Nature on You hath Lavish'd all her store,—
A Dearth of Beauty must succeed,
And Fools revolving Years must breed;
For She, that hath given all, can give no more.
Hippomenes and Atalanta.
WHen young Hippomenes beheld the place,
The ground, on which was run the fatal Race,
Where Atalanta should the Victor grace:
And saw their Members scatter'd o're the plain,
Whom Fate ordain'd to Love and to be slain;
Who paid their Life which in the Race did yield,
By fair, but cruell, Atalanta kill'd.—
"Is this the sole Reward, great Love, he cry'd,
"That doth to thy unhappy Slaves betide?
"Are these the Deities we must adore;
"That thus delight themselves in humane gore?
"If i'th the AEthereal Plains such Monsters be,
"Heaven shall be uninhabited for me.
"My bleeding Country shall my Aid demand,
"My Friend in danger shall require my hand,
"Actions like these beget a glorious Name,
"If i'th attempt I die, I die with Fame.
"These mangled Limbs were Men, that by their Hands
"Might have gain'd Crowns and conquer'd foreign Lands.
[Page 12]"But Love betray'd them,—Low in dust they sleep,
"And Ignominy o're their Names doth creep.
"They throve by War, were by soft Love undone,
"They well knew how to stand, but not to run.
"Hence then for ever I abjure the flame.—
—But as he spoke, fair Atalanta came.—
A Bearded shaft did thrô his Liver dart:
And throbbing pain went tingling to his heart,
Silence seal'd up his lips, the sight took place,
The Valiant Heart bow'd to the charming Face.
Th' expanded Organ greedily receiv'd
Those piercing Looks, that him of rest bereav'd.
A secret Warmth thrô every Vein did glide,
And his Blood flow'd in an unusual tide.
In's Mind thoughts of untasted Joys did move.
And sunk insensibly his Soul to Love.
His hardned Resolutions now expire,
And melt like rigid Ice before the Fire.
He now rejects the vows he once did make,
And thus, quite chang'd, his Words in Raptures brake.
"Pardon, great Love, a Criminal, that ne're knew
"What was to Thee, or Atalanta due.
"And you (bless'd Souls) whom Love and Beauty slew,
"I'll either Conquer, or make One of You.
"In bold Attempts 'tis gallant even to dare,
"For thô we miss the Prize, we Honour share.
"Show me the Post—I with Impatience dy,—
"My eager Love will double strength supply;
"And in the Race what warmth my breast will hea [...],
"To save a Life, and Atalanta get:
"All that I fear is, lest my throbbing heart,
"From her fair side unwillingly will part:
"It will be Lead, when it from Her is gone,
"Nor can I from so great a Treasure run.
[Page 13]"But if, at worst, the Fates my Bliss withstand,
"'Twill be worth while to perish by her Hand.
"For since we once must yield to Destiny,
"By such an Angel who'd not wish to dy?
"Her Eyes can cure the wounds, her fair Hand gave,
"One Look of hers can ransom from the grave.
The Honourable Grazier.
THE Roman Heroes, that the World subdu'd
Both by their Candor and their Fortitude;
Did with their Arms as usefull Arts put on,
And Govern'd all by Moderation.
Conquer'd themselves, and then for Rule were fit;
Masters at Home, and then made All submit.
The spirit of Magistracy could put on,
And could without resentment lay it down.
Could in all states an even Temper show,
This day Dictator and the next at Plow.
So calmly you did bear the change of State,
Steer'd right the dangerous Ship of being Great,
Not swell'd with empty Gales of flattering Fate.
And when that needfull Maxims you did call,
From thence you gently did descend, not fall.
Your great Soul less employments stoop'd to bear,
As Gods sometimes to earthly seats repair.
Fate rules mean Souls, the brave do Fate command,
Who still unmov'd on their own Basis stand.
And should the World in pieces break, and all
The shatter'd ruines in one Tempest fall;
No fear could from the rowling Mountains rise,
Nor could their Innocence admit surprize.
[Page 14]"Tis the great Good, that we from Vertue gain;
"Unmov'd in all Earth's changes to remain!
On a Peacock.
I.
THou foolish Bird, of Feathers proud,
Whose Lustre yet thine Eyes ne're see;
The gazing Wonder of the Crowd,
Beauteous, not to thy self, but Me!
Thy Hellish Voice doth those affright,
Whose Eyes were charmed at thy sight.
II.
Vainly thou think'st, those Eyes of thine
Were such as sleepy Argus lost;
When he was touch'd with rod Divine,
Who late of Vigilance did boast.
Little at best they'll thee avail,
Not in thine Head, but in thy Tayl.
III.
Wisemen do forward look to try
What will in following Moments come:
Backward thy useless Eyes do ly,
Nor do enquire of future doom.
"Nothing can remedy what's past;
"Wisedom must guard the present cast.
IV.
Our Eyes are best employ'd at home,
Not when they are on others plac'd:
From thine but little good can come,
Which never on thy self are cast:
A Tayl well-furnish'd, but an empty Head.
On a Flea presented to a Lady, whose Breast it had bitten, in a Golden Wire, Extempore 1679. (by Mr. Joshua Barnes.)
—HEre, Madam, take this Humble Slave,
Once vile,— But, since your blood is in him, Brave!
I saw him surfet on your Lovely Breast;
And snatch'd the Traytor from that precious Feast.
For his Attempt sure He by me had dy'd;
But the respect, I bore your Blood deny'd.
The Gods forbid, fair Madam, that by me
Your Blood be shed althô in this poor Flea!—
'Twas Sacrilege in him those Drops to draw;
But now that Treasure in his skin doth ly,
It consecrates his Life and strikes an awe;
That no bold Nayl dare make the Traytor dy.
Nay if a Quaff of Nectar once could make
Mankind Immortal, as the Poets feign,
This Flea can never dy for that Drops sake,
Which he hath suck'd, sweet Madam, from your Vein;
At least—no human Power his life can spill,
(Which lyes in your pure blood, that can't decay:)
But You, whose Property's to save and kill,
As you did lend that Blood, may take't away.
Then lo! —this Royal Slave in chains of Gold,
Here I submit most humbly to your doom:
Either let Mercy him your Prisoner hold,
Or let your Ivory Nayl prepare his Tomb!
[Page 16]Oh! could he speak, I'm sure the Wretch would crave
A Prisoner's life, to be confin'd with You:
Nay he could be content to meet his Grave;
If by your Hand death might to him accrue.
Go, happy Flea! for now to One you go,
Gives Bliss, if She's your Friend, and Glory, if your Foe▪
On an Ape.
I.
THIS Creature, that our Scorn doth grow,
Whose Actions we with laughter see,
Of Reason doth resemblance show,
And follows us with pleasing Mimickry:
It aims at Wit; a Man would grow;
And would be Rational, if it knew how.
II.
'Tis more than We to Angels can;
Their Deeds we cannot Imitate:
We'er after all Endeavours Man;
Nor can we even in Shadow change our state:
Nor what they are, or what they doe,
Can we but even in Show attain unto.
III.
Trifles our anxious Heads do fill,
Which this bless'd Creature trouble not:
Quarrels thence flow, the Cause of ill,
While Unconcern'dness is his happy Lot.
He is our Scorn, and much more W'
The Scorn or Pitty may of Angels be.
IV.
Like Man ambitiously he acts,
While We in Paths of Beasts do tread;
Follow vain Fools in Vitious tracts,
And even to Hell are by Example led:
Great Aims his Mind doth upward call;
While basely We to what's below us crawl,
No to Morrow.
AN Holy Hermite, that to aged Years
His precious Moments had employ'd in Prayers;
Renew'd the Golden age, by Nature fed,
Took his Repose upon Earth's flowry Bed,
And had Heaven's Canopy above his Head:
With what was pre [...]ent did content his Mind,
And future things to Providence resign'd.
To Him some Friends did earnestly repair,
And begg'd at th' Consul's Choosing hee'd appear.
To whom Gray Hairs and Piety reply'd,
"What's in my power You shall not be deny'd.
"What You desire of me to Day I'le doe,
"But for to Morrow I can nothing show.
"You that are Young and hope for Future years,
"For times to come may fill your Heads with Cares.
"I use the Time is present; and no more,
"Than what to Day brings forth, account my store.
"I many Years have liv'd, yet never knew
"What was to Future Times and to to Morrow due.
Mart. Lib. 12. Epig. 23.
WHen Mony I on my bare Bond do crave,
Youv' none: I'le Mortgage, Sir,—oh! now you have,
Thus, Thelesine, you will not trust a Friend,
But on the Credit of his Field You'l lend.
You'r cast at Law; tell not me, tell my Land—
You want a Friend— not I, my Field shall stand.
On the Crocodile.
I.
I AM the Terrour of the Sea,
Proud Nile's chief Glory and his Fear:
From far I dart upon my Prey,
Which to my watry Hold I bear.
Dogs dare not drink for doubt of Me,
Thô they 'gainst Bulls and Lyons dare.
I am chief Instrument of Fate;
Two Elements upon me wait;
Water and Land conspire to make me great.
II.
Of food I no Distinction make,
But in my Cruelty am Just:
Of Man and Beast alike I take,
And eat them both with equal Gust.
With Draughts of Gore my thrist I slake,
And Flesh I down my throat do thrust.
Fear gave rise to Divinity;
And Gods have rose from Cruelty:
Wise AEgypt showd so; when She worship'd me,
III.
The Indians kill me for their Food,
And say, I am Delicious meat:
They drink of their Relations Blood,
And eat, what did their Fathers eat.
In me they injure their own Brood,
Their Malice doth their Judgment cheat.
But I may yet a Question make,
Whether when Me they hunt and take,
They think their Hunger or Revenge to slake.
IV.
No Creature can my Power withstand:
Yet to that power Deceit I tie:
And by this Double Gordian band
Secure my hungry Tyranny;
The Terrour of the Sea and Land
In ambush on the Sands I lie.
What e're I take I do devour,
Yet o're the Head I tears do shower,
And weep and grieve,—because I have no more.
V.
Men me Abhor, yet Imitate;
Like Falshood use without all Shame:
As Lawless Power, as deep Deceit
Doth Christian under Christian tame:
I live i'th' Actions of the Great;
What they're to Others, to them I am.
Would you then Power and Cunning see
Mixed with deep Hypocrisie?
They are conjoyn'd in Man, as well as Me!
On a Pen.
THE feather'd Herald of loud Fame I sing;
Love's sweetest Friend and Satyr's sharpest sting.
The fierce Denounce [...] of devouring Arms,
The soft Proposer of mild Peace's charms:
That o're the Troops of Proudest Monarchs sways,
That rules the Sword, which Heaven and Earth obeys:
That charm'd the Barbarous World, and brought the Rude
And Savage Troops from lonely Solitude:
That made them down in Peace together lie,
And molded them into Civility:
Their yeilding Hearts with secret Joy did move,
With tyes of Friendship and of mutual Love:
First shew'd the Service, we to Heaven did owe,
The Rev'rence we should unto Justice show,
And Rules of Converse, and what e're we know.
Earth's Distant parts the Nimble Pen doth bind,
And to re [...]otest Nations bears the Mind.
Thou wondrous Gift of Heaven! that can'st dispence
Immortall favours and eternall Sence.
Thou to dark Ages dost full Luster give;
By Thee Great Homer and Great Maro live!
Those, we ne're saw, yet by thy Help we know;
And Friendship can at greatest distance show.
Thou needfull Rules for Government dost give,
And from Oppression dost the Weak relieve.
The Reins of all things in thy power do lie,
And He rules All, who well can govern Thee.
The peacefull Mind thou canst to War excite,
And sink the Warriour down into delight,
[Page 21]Great Revolutions on thy power depend,
And Fates of Kings thy Motion do attend.
What secret spell doth in thy Letters ly?
What Magick Powers do from thy figures fly?
What wonders do the Savages relate
Of thine all-wise, all-wonderfull Estate?
That Characters, which from our Pens do stray,
To distant Climates should our thoughts convey.
Well might the Indian think the Letter spoke,
When by its help He in his theft was took.
On a Faithfull Dog.
MOST Loyal Creature! whom no Bribes can bend:
Still thou untaught thy Master dost defend.
Lov'st generous Actions, that will bear the Light,
Irreconcilable to deeds of Night.
To Thieves and Villains a professed Foe,
And what soe're doth hidden treachery know.
Ne're in distress didst leave thy wretched Lord,
But didst at Life's expence thy help afford.
From thy indulgent Master ne're didst fly,
Nor e're betray'd the hand, that nourish'd Thee.
But when all Loyal help is try'd in vain,
True and unmov'd dost by his side remain,
And dost thy Faith in Fates extreams maintain:
Well did the fierce
Masinissa
Numidia's Prudent Lord
Choose from thy tribe his uncorrupted Guard.
Thy Life shames giddy Man's; for He's a slave
To every Veering Wind and Dancing Wave.
Him Gold, or Spleen, or Flattery moves to range,
Or, what is worse, meerly the Love of change.
[Page 22] He knows nor Gratitude, nor Honour's Laws,
But in extremity his help withdraws,
And leaves his Lord to th' mercy of his Foes.—
Villains or Fools the noisy Crowds compose;
Or sprightly Traytors, or dull stupid Logs;
How are they honour'd, if we style them Dogs?
On the Mole.
I.
BY Niggard unkind Nature I
Am doomed to perpetual Night;
In my dark solitude I ly,
And hate, what all do Love, the Light.
My days from nights no difference have,
But all my Life I'm in my Grave.
II.
I in Earth's bowels seek my prey,
In cursed solitude remain,
In those dark Regions, where no Ray
May help to ease me of my pain:
Doubly accurs'd, that have no sight,
Or, had I, am debarr'd the Light!
III.
Once I was an AEthereal mind
(If learn'd Antiquity ought know)
But cloy'd with Joys of Heavenly kind,
I long'd for Pleasures here below:
Till angry Heaven from thence me thrust,
And set my Mansion in the Dust.
IV.
Now Blind, who once did Glory see,
And dwelt in the AEthereal Air:
From Heaven, and thoughts of it, I fly,
And do all Commerce with it fear.
In caverns deep my Seat I place,
And shun, as guilty men, Heaven's face.
V.
The starting▪ trembling, Guilty Soul,
And Conscience, that awake doth keep,
Might seek for shelter with the Mole;
And fix her habitation deep.
But tell me where a troubled mind,
A Dungeon deep enough shall find!
The Norway Whale.
I.
I Am the Messenger of angry Fate,
And do approaching Monarchs Death relate▪
Norway with trembling Eyes doth look on me,
And I 'me the Comet of the Sea.
Meteors from Heaven betoken Death,
And I do tell it from beneath,
II.
To Mariners an Island I appear,
And fearless they unto my side draw near,
Wondering what unknown Land their course doth stay,
And think they have mistook their way.
[Page 24]Their Charts and Mapps in vain they spread,
Believing Nature's lately brought to Bed.
III.
Yet wisely Nature with my Bulk doth deal,
And Folly on my Greatness doth entail;
Makes me a dull, stupid, and senceless Piece,
My Head but not my Brains encrease.
Did Wit or Mali [...]e dwell in me,
How dangerous a Monster should I be?
IV.
How many Whales may even our Country boast,
Whose Souls are in their Massy Bodies lost?
Who, if it haps they don't mischievous grow,
Their praise is, that they know not how:
Their Innocence from Folly got,
Their Excellence not in their Head, but Throat.
On Sleep.
SLeep, thou most soft and pleasing of the Gods,
That kindly easest weary Mortals Loads!
What other angry Deities infer,
Thou, Tutelary, Genius help'st to bear.
Even Iove himself must part the time with Thee,
Thou Ease and Aid of our Mortality!
To th' Gods and Fate we do the day resign,
But half the Time, the Night, sweet Sleep, is thine:
To whom our Life those Cordial hours doth owe,
Help to digest the Bitterness of woe!
[Page 25]The Springs of Life would soon exhausted be,
If not replenish'd and refresh'd by Thee.
Thou call'st the flagging Spirits to the Brain,
With Balmy Dew sprinklest the wearied Train,
That grow and flourish with thy moistning showers;
As silver Drops lift up the tender Flowers.
The long-distended Nerves are laid to rest,
And silent Ease spreads o're the heaving Breast:
A pleasing Numness on the Limbs doth seize,
And all, but Labouring Fancy, is at ease:
A thousand shapes She o're the Brain doth roul,
Disjointed Schemes play i'th' deluded Soul:
Inverted thoughts without, or Form, or Law,
Fragments of what before we heard, or saw:
Till the refreshed Spirits with haughty Pride,
With vigorous Strength thrô all the Limbs do glide,
And break the Silken Fetters, Sleep had ty'd.
Thou lull'st at once Vs and our Woes asleep;
Thy Guards from Troubles faithfull Centry keep.
It is the sacred Time they must refrain,
And wait, till we rise from thy Arms again.
Thou Safe Asylum, where the wretched Slave
With the proud Victor equal share can have:
Both meet in thy Embraces, both lie down,
(I' th' Grave and Sleep there's no Distinction known)
Both senceless of the Joys, or Griefs, they own,
The weary Wretch, that Tugs at th'Oar doth find.
Of all the Gods, Thou art to him most kind.
Thy Charitable help doth condescend
Ease to the loaded Prisoner to lend,
That low in Dungeons lies far from the sight
Of Mortal Eyes, and th' common Good, the Light:
Thou cheer'st his blinded Eyes and troubled Mind,
And Him, that's lost to all the World, dost find.
[Page 26]Thou visit'st Humble Cotes and silent Cells,
Where Native Innocence and Pleasure dwells;
Where Love and Peace do undisturbed reign,
And Truth and Safety's more esteem'd, than Gain.
But far thou fliest from Courts and Rooms of State,
From Noise of Business and of being Great.
Ambition there upon the Mind doth seize,
And Lust and Rage do rob the Soul of Ease:
Bloody Revenge the Tortur'd heart doth tear,
Nor doth black Iealousie the Entrails spare.
They smile without, but inwardly do bleed,
And restless Vultures on the Liver feed.
Scorpions and Furies there may make aboad,
But there's no Room for Thee, thou pleasing God!
With weary steps they may to Honour crawl,
And Golden showers into their Laps may fall:
But Thee they want, bless'd Sleep, who sweet'nest all.
All States and Tempers of thy Pleasures tast;
Which, when all other Joys are gone, do last.
Despairing Wretches, from whom Comforts fly,
May in Ambitious Dreams yet happy be,
And what they ne're shall have, Enjoy by Thee.
The Valiant Souldier dreams of Mortal Wars,
Of bloody Wounds and Honourable Scars,
Grasps at Imaginary Crowns, and lies
Entranc'd in Ravishing Sighs and Exstasies:
Till the soft Bonds of downy Sleep do break,
Then grieves and sighs, that he so soon doth wake,
A Lover's mind Beauteous Ideas dress,
While slumber doth his wandring Soul possess.
The Object of his Flame he doth adore,
Freely Embraces, what was Coy before,
What his unbounded thoughts desire, enjoys;
Fancy the room of what's not there supplies.
[Page 27]Unwillingly he's wak'd out of his Dream,
And grieves, that all was but Ixion's Scheme.
The sweet-tongu'd Poet, whose Immortal Song
Makes Men rise Gods, and Age it self grow young,
Thô poor Contempt offend his waking eyes,
Rich in thine Arms, thou Sole Moecenas, lyes.
Sleep doth the Draughts of former Acts retrieve,
Disorder'd Cuts of Ancient Gests doth give:
Each of his Calling or his Deeds doth dream,
Merchants o'th' Sea, the Husbandman of's Team,
Lawyers of Strife, and Sportsmen of their Game.
Sleep the Day's Pleasures doubles in the Night,
And kindly represents what doth delight;
Death's younger Brother!—
The first Essay of our Mortality;
The First, that learns us, what it is to dy!
A near agreement Sleep and Death do keep,
"Sleep's a short Death and Death a longer sleep.
In sleep our business with the World is done,
What's acted, or what's spoke, to us unknown:
Secret, as when we in the Grave lie down.
We'r unconcern'd at th' buz and Noise of things,
At the Erection or the fall of Kings.
No plots nor deep Designs in hand we have,
Are but one step on this side of the Grave.
The Dust doth equal all, and Sleep doth so:
Alike to both, Monarchs and Captives bow:
While [...]ast their sences sleepy Fetters bind,
No difference We 'twixt Prince and Peasant find;
All senceless Lumps of flesh alike; nor can
The Wise be sever'd from the Foolish Man.
Both may have Dreams, and both alike confus'd;
Chance governs all, where Wisdom is not us'd.
[Page 28]And
P [...]asants may have Dreams as great and high,
As those that fill the head of Majesty.
They'r breathing Mummies all, and till they wake,
Wisdom or Greatness no Distinction make.
Martial's Ague. Lib. 10. Ep. 45.
IN sighs, Leutinus, thou dost spend the Days,
And wonder'st much so long thy Ague stays.
With Thee in gilded Coach it lolls at ease,
With Thee doth sup on far-fetch'd Rarities:
With Generous Liquor drunk it still is thine,
And knows no Water, but what cooles the Wine,
Crowned with Roses and with Perfumes spred.
Sleeps upon Down and rests on Purple Bed.
With Thee so entertain'd, what should it do?
Would'st have it to an half-starv'd Wretch to go?
AEtas parentum pejor avis tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos Progeniem vitiosiorem. Hor.
WE all prize Life; and yet how short's the Date?
Not worth the trouble we are daily at.
Press'd with the load of Years, with Life we'r pleas'd,
With both our Arms, thô wretched, 'tis embrac'd.
Unhappy man! curs'd with a double Woe,
With Life's Vexation and its Shortness too.
How blessed was our uncorrupted State;
When from God's Hand we dropt Immaculate?
[Page 29]E're Nature had from Vice receiv'd its stain,
E're the Creation's Glory had its Bane.
When Moderation kept in drink and meat,
Men eat to Live, and did not Live to eat;
Before luxurious Variety
Had taught our Fathers Immature to dy.
When Nature open'd her unrifled store,
By former Ages never touch'd before,
Which flourish'd in its fresh unbafled Power.
When Native Knowledge o're the Soul was spread,
That could the use of Herbs and Mettals read,
And all, that might draw out Life's tender thread.
When benign Influences of the Stars
Contributed to Length of Happy Years,
That Those, who many Ages liv'd, might find
Those needfull Arts, of use to Humanekind,
We, of all Generations far the worst,
In Time, in Place, and in our Selves accurs'd,
In the gross Lees o'th' Elements do dwell,
With nauseous Air and putrid Matter swell:
A Place, refined Souls would think an Hell.
Where old Decrepit Nature, thrô Decay,
Doth feeble, weak, inglorious Births display;
Robb'd of her pristine store, the spirits fled,
The shortliv'd shadows withered Look and dead.
But yet the greatest and worst part of Woe,
Unhappy Man unto Himself doth owe!
We by our Vice our Natures do deprave,
We by Intemperance make too soon our Grave.
Passions do Knowledge blast and Reason blind,
And wear at once our Body and our Mind,
No wise designs for future times we lay,
Confin'd to the small Compass of to day.
Nature hath made us Wretched, but We more;
Fate curses us, and we add to the store.
[Page 30]Woes from our selves, or outward Causes, bred
With our own hands We pull down on our head.
A Vertuous Life would all these ills remove;
Our Nature, Years, and Knowledge, would improve;
Would render our short Lives more blest, and fair,
Than theirs, that did so many Ages wear.
This Life's in order to an other State,
The End and Crown doth upon Death await:
The Way to Happiness is thrô that Gate.
And in our Life it matters not to tell,
How many Years we've lived, but how Well.
Martial Lib. 9. Ep. 15.
DOST think, He whom thy liberal Table drew,
Can ever be to Love or Friendship true? —
He loves thy Mullets, Oysters, and not Thee:
Could I so entertain him, hee'd love Me.
The Battle between a Cock and a Capon. Lamport 1682.
LET other Poets treat of lofty Things,
The rise of States and fall of Captive Kings:
A lower subject doth my Muse invite,
An humbler Theme, but of no less Delight.
A bloody Battle late was sought between
Two Combatants of different hopes and Meine.
One, the proud Captain of the brooding Race,
That doth the Yard o'th' carefull Houswife grace:
With tender Chuck calls the admiring Rout,
And proudly leads th' obsequious Hens about:
[Page 31]The drowsie Peasant's Clock, whose wakefull throat
Doth Midnight's shades and Day's approach denote:
Calls up from his course Bed the snoring Hind,
Whom Sleep's strong fetters do securely bind,
While guilty Greatness can no Quiet find.
The Creature, whom enjoyment can't appease,
But Raves in lust, and Rivals all his Race;
Not a Seraglio his Desires can please.
Impatient Lust doth in his Visage lie,
And deadly Rage dwells in his bloody Eye.
The Other of the Combatants was one
Of meaner hopes and expectation:
Not much unlike in shape, but much in Meine,
Nor Male, nor Female, but a sort between.
Monster! not made by Nature, but by Art;
Whose sex the carefull Housewife did impart:
Who conscious, Lust did fret the Nerves away,
And on Life's Balsame did too freely prey,
With bloody Knife did rob him of the p [...]ize,
Where Love is plac'd, and some say, Courage lies.
Angry with all the World for th' Inju'ry done,
A melancholly fullen Creature grown,
He Confort shuns, and loves to be alone.
Ghastly and pale he look'd, whether for fear,
Or rage at the Misfortunes, he did bear,
Or want of generous spirits and active fires,
Which daring uncontrouled Love inspires:
Each part unseemly look'd, but most of all
The bending Feathers of his useless Tail.
The Combat nois'd, to the unusual Sport
A gallant Train of Noble Youth resort.
All do the Castrate's sneaking looks deride,
And give their suffrage o'th' proud Champion's side.
[Page 32]Till from the rest
[...]
One, born of noble Race,
Whom Honour, Beauty, Wit, and Worth did grace;
Whether it was his perspicacious Eye
Did growing sparks of hidden Valour spy;
(And who of Valour greater Judge than H [...] ▪)
Or that he scorn'd to walk i'th' beaten road,
The common Path, that all the Vulgar trod;
[...], that, as generous Spirits do, He chose
To lend his help unto the weaker cause,
As Cato did thô Gods did him oppose:
Castrate's Defence he took, and thus he spoke.
"Narses did once an Empire's fate revoke:
"Renown with Kingdoms he did bravely win.
"And Victory sat on his beardless Chin.
"Europe and Asia still deplore the fate,
"That Sinan Bassa's Valour did create!
"Both fill'd with Fame and Honourable scars;
"Unfit for Venus, fit for Mars's Wars.
O're Castrate's Soul the pleasing Accents spread,
And lifted up his long-dejected Head.
Great thoughts in his depressed Mind did grow,
And glowing Heat thrô every Limb did flow,
From valiant Race he sprung, (if Fame says true)
And his Descent from bloody Warriours drew:
Till Numerous Injuries and long Disgrace
(Scorn'd and contemn'd by all the female Race)
His high-born generous Spirit did debase.
But now swell'd up by Praise to bloody Fight,
Praise, that the Coward doth to Fame excite,
With deep Revenge his Soul doth inward bleed,
And Jealousie doth on his Liver feed,
A Jealousie from Impotence that's bred.
Rage, Madness, and Revenge his soul possess,
And his torn Heart to mighty Acts address.
[Page 33]Fierce
Chanticleer with haughty scornfull Pride
And mix'd Disdain over the Pit did stride,
And did th' Unworthy Combatant deride:
But, see'ing at last he did to fight prepare,
He gives the signal to th' unlucky Warr,
With that shrill Note, that ope's the Morning's Eye,
That dreadfull Note, that makes even Lions fly:
And with Revenge, which his proud Soul did swell,
He like a Tempest on his Enemy fell.
Both met, both others heightned Courage try'd,
And in deep Gore their shining Weapons died.
The Cautious Castrate let his eager Foe
In haughty Vaunts and scorn his strength bestow:
Disgrace and long-felt Shame had made him wise,
Taught him grave Arts and usefull Policies:
How to beguile a fierce and eager Foe,
How to ward off, and how return a Blow;
With circling winding Course his Foe deceive,
And deadly and unlook'd-for wounds to give.
To make his Enemie's fierceness useless still,
To fly and wound, and Parthian-like to kill.
With various fortune the event they try,
One doth on Force, th' other on Fraud rely,
And Victory with equal wings doth fly.
Besmeard with gore, with blood and fury red,
Blood they drink down, and showers of blood they shed.
With loss of blood at length the Cock grows faint,
And doth, too late, those fiery spirits want,
Which he so prodigally spent to please
The Lust of all his Speckled Mistresses:
Finds, what his glory was, his shame doth grow,
And Lust, that heightens, doth enervate too.
Yet scorning longer a base Foe to' engage,
He summons the remains of force and rage:
[Page 34]One blow he with united Forces made.
And Castrate senseless on the Pavement laid.
Netled with the Disgrace, brave Castrate rose:
Disgrace, that sparks of hidden Valour blows,
[...]rments within, and wakes the sleeping seeds,
That many years lay dead, to gallant deeds.
All, that from Rage or wrankled Malice flow,
All, that Revenge or Jealousie can show,
All, that past Scorn, Disgrace, or biting Slight;
All in one fatal bloody Blow unite;
Which strow'd the Cock supinely on the ground,
While Blood and Life flow'd from the gaping wound.
Castrate on his fall'n Foe with pride did tread,
And lifting up his late-dejected Head,
He would have Crow'd, to show the Victory;
But barr'd by former wrongs that faculty,
He Cackled something out, which those, that know
The Tongue, he spoke in, do interpret so.
"Here the Insulting Conquerour doth lie,
"Mighty in Venus School, that could supply
"The Love of twenty Hens, and every Morn
"With fiery Lust his blushing Cheeks adorn.
"Venus and Mars have different ways of fight;
"One doth in Love, th' other in Rage delight:
"Courage resides i'th' noble seat the Heart;
"But Love's confin'd unto a lower Part.
Olympias's Lamentation over Dead Alexander.
VAin Youth! to what amounts now all thy Toil,
Or what Enjoyment hast thou of thy Spoil?
[Page 35]That, which with the Expence of sweat and blood
Thou dearly bought'st, is shar'd by th' wrangling Crowd.
Each on thy Spacious Empire sets his Eye,
And Thou neglected dost unburied ly.
Alive the trembling World to Thee did pray,
To Thee, now dead, none doth Obedience pay.
Thy former Deeds forgotten, by thy side
Thy fear, thy Reverence, and Authority did.
Nor could'st Thou, out of all thy Conquests, save
So much ground, as would serve Thee for a Grave.
The World but Yesterday thou thought'st too small,
And scornd'st the Narrow compass of this Ball:
Thy Towring thoughts and thy Designs laid low,
Seven foot of ground thy Burial place will grow;
But even that common Right thou wantest now.
Thy wild Ambition up to Heaven would soar,
Made servile Priests thy Altars to adore:
Alive thou we'rt inroll'd with Gods above,
But Death Thee truly did a Mortal prove:
Thy Death unravell'd all, thy Life had Wove.
Better, hot Boy, thou hadst in Greece remain'd,
And o're thy Native Land in quiet reign'd:
Than thus the peace o'th' Injur'd World to break,
And unjust Spoils from faultless Nations take:
And for thy Glorious Robberies, but to claim
The whole World's Curses and a Posthume Fame.
Big with great Schemes and flattering hopes we dy:
New crowding Numbers do the Soul employ,
While others swell up to Maturity:
Death closes up the Scene of Actions past,
And the imperfect Embrio's into Air do wast.
On a Robin-red-breast, that for many years built and dwelt in a Church.
I.
PRoud Man with high conceits doth swell,
And wonders of's own Worth doth tell:
Vainly believes, that he alone
Hath any Notion of Religion.
But they, blest Bird, that hear thy Songs, believe
The Truest Devotion in thy Breast doth live.
No Envy, Pride, or Discontent dwells there;
No factious Interest, mean Designs, or Fear,
Nor do Hypocrisy thy Actions wear.
II.
Angels are said their Prayers to Join
With holy Men in Acts Divine:
Thou mak'st the Chorus, when we pray,
And when we praise, thou sing'st thy cheerfull Lay.
To highest flights thy warm Devotion goes,
Thou op'st the Morning, and the Day dost close.
Thou by thy Carolls own'st a Deity,
To th' Altar dost for Sanctuary fly,
And wisest Men can only follow Thee.
III.
And if those Ancient Dreams be true,
That Souls thrô many changes go;
Some pious Mind, That wanted Rest,
Came and took up thy Zealous flaming Breast.
[Page 37]We here below with mists and Errours deal,
What Language Angels speak, there's none can tell;
Nor know we, but those Airs, that pleas'd our Soul,
That did in high Seraphick Numbers roul,
Might be some Hallelujah, Thou had'st stole.
On the Death of a Monkey.
I.
HEre Busy and yet Innocent lyes Dead,
Two things, that seldom meet:
No Plots nor Stratagems disturb'd his head,
Or's merry Soul did fret:
He shew'd like Superannuated Peer,
Grave was his look, and Politick his Air;
And he for Nothing too spent all his care.
II.
But that he died of Discontent, 'tis fear'd,
Head of the Monkey Rout;
To see so many Brother Apes preferr'd,
And he himself left out:
On all below he did his Anger showr,
Fit for a Court did all above adore,
H'had Shows of Reason, and few Men have more.
Advice to a Despairing Lover.
I.
WHY, silly Wretch, wil't pine and dy,
And unregarded ly?
[Page 38]Thou never sure did'st think to move
Either her Pitty, or her Love,
That's free from passion, like the Gods above.
II.
Let dy with Thee those hopes, that fed
These follies in thy head:
The Sun doth never cease to fly,
Nor th' Moon her wonted Course lays by,
Because a silly peevish Worm will dy.
III.
Monarchs may dy; and yet stern Fate
Flies at the wonted rate:
The Laws of Nature still wheel on,
And their unerring Course do run,
And no new grief doth stop their Motion.
IV.
Why then wilt thou resign thy Breath,
Since she minds not thy Death?
She, like the Stars, perhaps may see;
But plac'd in her Felicity,
She can't have sence of sorrow, or of Thee.
V.
Thou by thy Death wilt add one more,
One Victim to the Store,
And as those Heaps, in Battail slain,
Are known by Number, not by Name,
Thou nothing by thy Death, but Death shalt gain.
VI.
So do the unregarded Fry,
Like Beasts neglected dy;
And after some few Years of sleep
Oblivion o're their Names doth creep;
And their left Friends scarce their Remembrance keep.
Death's Warning.
A Gallant liv'd in Pride of Youthfull Powers,
Lull'd in soft Ease, bless'd Health, and tender hours;
Whose Easy Mind ne're ruffled was with Care,
Nor did the Toyl, or Load of Business bear:
Ne're knew Concern, but an Intreague of Love,
Nor beyond that amuzing Court did rove.
But stretch'd in shades he like an Indian lay,
To every smiling Moment's Birth did play,
And drank and danc'd and sang the Circling Years away.
To whom Death did in griezly shape appear,
Unerring Death, that doth to all repair,
Meets us in Beds of Down, as well as Fields of War.
Th' Officious Fiend doth on our footsteps tread,
Dresses in every Shape his hatefull Head,
As oft in what we Love, as what we dread.
The Poor beneath their troubles groaning dy,
The Rich expire in Exstasies of Joy:
The Manner differs, not the Destiny.
Th' Amazed Spark, struck with a cold surprize.
Who had with pleasing Objects fed his Eyes,
Found at the sight, wild Notions fill'd his head,
And all his Youthfull Warmth and Vigour fled.
[Page 40]Till he, recover'd from his deep amaze,
Ask'd the Grim Shape, from whence, and what He was.
To whom the Spectre with insulting pride,
Li [...]ting his Conquering Arm on high reply'd.—
"I'me the world's Monarch; to Me Princes bow,
"Scepters and Crowns do at my feet fall low.
"At my Command the suppliant Numbers come,
"And take their fixt inevitable Doom.
"All Creatures do beneath my Empire lie;
"And willing, or unwilling, they must die.
The Pointed Accents the Young Spark did hear,
Being already almost dead for fear;
And cry'd, "My tender Youth great Monarch spare.
"I am feeble, unresisting, Prey,
"Too mean for your Victorious hand to slay.
"'Twill fully all your former glorious Fame,
"To say, You such a Prostrate overcame.
"The rugged Souldier doth your force defie,
"And loudly calls on You, that from him fly.
"Dares you in your own Realm, the Scenes of blood,
"Where scatter'd Members o're the Fields are strow'd.
"The wretched Prisoner your Relief demands,
"And begs his wish'd-for Freedom from your hands,
"That can his fetters lose and break his Bands.
"Despairing Lovers, that no Joy do know,
"Do hope to find in You an End of Woe.
"You fly from those, that do defie your power,
"Are deaf to those, that do your Aid implore.—
"Humble the Haughty, with the Wretch comply;
"And let untouch'd the prostrate Suppliant lie.
Death seem'd to such a soft entreaty kind;
If ever he to Pitty was inclin'd,
(But Wisemen say, he's Deaf, as well as Blind.)
[Page 41]And told him, He his unripe Youth would spare,
But bad him for his next Approach prepare,
For he would then no vain excuses hear.
Th' emboldned Youth acknowledg'd his high sway,
And promis'd, his next Summons to obey;
But begg'd, he might have notice of the Day.
To whom Death cry'd, "You shall have what you crave,
"You shall of my Approach due warning have.
Glad of's Departure the Joy'd Youth arose,
Lapp'd his late frighted Soul in soft Repose:
Sang Requiems to' his now-composed Mind,
Tasted each pleasure, that look'd fair or kind:
Did set no bounds to' impetuous Desire,
Freely embrac'd what Passion did require.
Ne're thought of Death more, or the threatned Grave
Which Melancholly dreadfull Prospects gave,
But still on this rely'd, He should a Warning have.
No Preparations for's Departure made,
But to the Time of Age that Work delay'd,
And hop'd, that Debt ev'en then might be defray'd.
At last unlook'd-for Death approach did make
And him did from's enchanted slumber wake:
Who loudly at the Injury did rave,
And taxed Death, that he no Warning gave.
Who, smiling with a Grin, in Scorn reply'd,
"My Justice in all Ages hath been try'd:
"With equal feet to Crowns and Spades I come,
"None are above, none are below, my Doom.
"I've kept my promise; I fair warning gave,
"Each time you slept, I warn'd You of the Grave.
"Sleep is my Younger Brother, we dwell nigh;
"And there's but one step betwixt Him and Me.
"I i'th' last Feaver did to you appear,
"And when the Dropsie seiz'd You, I was near.
[Page 42]"Your Nerves in
Lust and in
Debauch'ry broke,
"Your Palsie Hands in drunken Revels shook,
"Loudly with pressing signes did on You call:
"But You, regardless You, was Deaf to all.
"You scap'd before, and hop'd still so to doe,
"Far from your thoughts did drive the Day of Wo,
"You would not hear me call, nor will I you.
Th' Astonish'd Youth but little had to say,
And Death, who now refus'd to hear him Pray,
With one stroke even to That did stop the Way.
On a Sunbeam.
I.
THou Beauteous Off-spring of a Syre as Fair;
With thy kind Influence thou dost all things heat:
Thou gild'st the Heaven, the Sea, the Earth, and Air,
And under massy Rocks dost Gold beger.
Th' opaque dull Earth thou dost make fine,
Thou dost ith'Moon and Planets shine;
And if Astronomy say true,
Our Earth to them doth seem a Planet too.
II.
How unaccountable thy Journeys prove!
Thy swift Course thrô the Universe doth fly,
From lofty heights in distant Heavens above,
To all that at the lowly Center ly.
Thy Parent Sun once in a Day
Thrô Heaven doth steer his well-beat way;
Thou of a swifter subtler breed
Dost every Moment his Day's Course exceed.
III.
Thy Common presence makes thee little priz [...]d,
Which if we once had lost, wee'd dearly Buy:
How would the Blind hugg, what's by us despis'd▪
How welcome wouldst thou in a Dungeon be?
Thrice-wretched those, in Mines are bred,
That from thy sight are buried,
When all the Stores, for which they try,
Neither in Use, nor Beauty, equal Thee.
IV.
Could there be found an Art to fix thee down,
And of condensed Rays a Gem to make,
'Twould be the brightest Lustre of a Crown,
And an esteem invaluable take,
New Wars would the tir'd World molest,
And new Ambition fire Mens breast,
More Battels fought for it, than e're
Before for Love, Empire, or Treasure, were.
V.
Thou'rt quickly born and dost as quickly die:
Pitty so fair a Birth to fate should fall!
Now here and now in abject Dust dost lie;
One Moment 'twixt thy Birth and Funeral.
Art thou, like Angels, only shown,
Then to our Grief for ever flown?
Tell me, Apollo, tell me where
The Sunbeams go, when they do disappear.
The Athenian Madman.
I.
IN Athens, once the Nurse of Arms and Arts,
Where Wit and Learning fix'd their seat,
Sometimes even there doth Folly meet,
For Nature variously her Gifts imparts:)
A Madman dwelt, the Laughter of the Town,
Who every Morning to the Port went down,
And thought all Ships, that enter'd, were his own.
II.
The Captains Hail'd, did for the Cockets call;
Enquir'd what Riches were on board,
What Merchandizes they had stor'd;
And what mishaps did in their Voyage fall.
Did his commands upon his servants lay;
To various parts the Cargo sent away,
To Merchants all, or storehouse, did convey.
III.
Nor was his (so dispis'd) a cursed state;
An Innocent Madness him doth seize,
A Frenzy, that his Mind doth please;
And uncontrouled thoughts upon him wait.
He thinks he's Happy and he's therefore so.
Believes he's Rich, and Wealth in Streams do flow:
He hugs the thought, and thence doth blessed grow.
IV.
How many Men, than he, more raving are,
Who are amidst their Treasure poor,
And pine and starve in swelling store,
And might be happy, if they thought they were.
It is not Riches, that Content can win,
The secret we must to our heart resign,
Content lives not without, but dwells within.
V.
We all alike do Happiness desire,
Yet commonly the Treasure loose:
The Madman doth, what's present choose,
He thinks no farther, nor doth more require.
Fancy makes him, what others fain would grow;
A serious Judgment doth small difference know,
'Twixt being Happy, and 'twixt thinking so.
Martial's happy Life. Vitam quae faciunt, &c. Lib. 10. Ep. 45.
WHat things our Life do happy make
From me, my sweetest Martial, take.
A left Estate, not got with pain;
A fruitful Field, that swells with grain;
A Kitching, that is ever warm;
Life free from Quarrels and from Harm.
Rarely to be concern'd with State,
Never to' have Law-sutes, or debate;
But on the Mind Content to wait.
And Innocence with Prudence crown'd:
An [...]qual and a Faithfull Friend,
Discourse, that may in Pleasure end,
Nor Feasts, that may to Riot tend.
No drunken Nights, yet such, as may,
Wash off the sully of the Day.
No lonely Bed, yet One, that's chast;
And Sleep, that tendious Nights may wast.
With what we have to be Content,
Nor, what we have not, to resent:
Not fear our last approaching Day,
And yet not rashly fling our Life away.
Advice to a Virgin.
FAir blooming Beauty, left without defence,
Nothing to guard Thee, but thine Innocence!
Whose unexperienc'd Mind no ill doth know,
But Judges all things good, 'cause Thou art so.
Little thou think'st, what Dangers Thee surround,
What Plots and Strategems laid under ground;
Which the fond Lovers, in thy Rays that play,
Against thy Innocent Designs do lay:
And thô they crouch beneath your sparkling Eyes,
Each boldly hopes, that You will be his Prize.
'Tis all great Fortunes and great Beauties get,
The One to buy th' Other to invite, Deceit.
For barren Countries none will ever fight,
'Tis the rich Soil the Conquest doth invite.
To gather common Stones no labour strives,
'Tis for rich Gems the Sun-burnt Negro dives.
[Page 47]Where Plenty springs, or where rich Mines abound,
The Victory with due Rewards is Crown'd;
To Birds and Beasts is left the Barren ground.
Guard then your Beauty; 'tis a Dangerous Store,
A Fatal Treasure, that hath Ruin'd more,
Than e're were Wretched made by being poor.
Expect then often Storms; all are your Foes,
What e're their Countenance, or Behaviour shows,
That would possess those Treasures, You disclose.
Let Vertue Rule, and Prudence be your Guide,
All Vice and the Suspicion of't avoid.
Be Vertuous and be thought so; Few there be,
That dare attempt upon Your Chastity,
If no unwary Action did precede,
By which they gather'd hopes, they might Succeed.
"Fame's quickly lost and ne're to be retriev'd,
"And Rumour, true or false, blasts, if believ'd.
You're Angels, while You do admit no Stain;
But when You fall, You Mortals are again.
See that fair Flower, the Glory of the Field,
That did enchanting Joy and Pleasure yield,
By some rude Hand crop'd in its height of Pride;
How, all its Beauty fled, it withering died.
See but the Snow; like You, 'tis Starry bright,
While no warm touch doth taint its Native White:
But if ought doth its Virgin-Beauty stain,
Not all Earth's Treasures can restore't again.
Nor let (fair Piece of Nature) Your young Years
Be drawn away with Lovers vows and tears.
Love every Passion, it doth see, can Ape,
The changing Proteus puts on every shape.
Whom Love doth seize, he strait grows Eloquent;
And Streams of Words flow from desire and want;
[Page 48]Mind not the Trifles, on Mens lips that grow;
Tis Scum, that from their bo [...]ling Breasts doth flow;
Free of their Oaths, but in performance slow.
Impunity renders the Traytors safe,
Even Iove at Lovers perjuries doth laugh.
Your Yielding Mind let not vain presents bend,
Beware of Gifts an Enemy doth send:
They are the price they'd buy You at, and when
You are their own, the Gifts are theirs again.
Be deaf to Flattery; it deludes the Mind,
And oft, when all Arts fail, doth entrance find.
But then's most Danger, we should to't resign,
When't meets with that Arch-Flatterer within.
Ne're dream, that Constancy in Man resides,
Who lessi'th' Prize, then in the Conquest Prides,
In Love and in Ambition what Men have,
They slight, and for what they possess not, rave.
One Conquest got, another fills the Mind,
Nor can the greatest Treasures keep't confind.
Of Thoughts and of Desires no bounds are known,
Nor can the brightest Beauty fix Love down.
Nor will Preeminence more be You allow'd,
Once got, you're lost among the Common Crowd.
No greater Privilege will Your Beauty gain,
But in the Mass of things will Scorn'd remain,
Nor but for change be visited again.
The tasting Bee doth search the secret Bowers,
And rifles all the Beds of filver flowers:
Nor Rose, nor Lilly, can inforce his stay;
Fresh sweets the winged Chymist call away.
Untouch'd You'll th' object of their Worship be;
Yielding You do at their Discretionly,
And when the Thief hath robb'd, he'll hate and sly.
See! The throat-parched Wretch, whom Thirst doth fire,
Approaches the cool Fount with hot desire.
[Page 49]He bows his Head, and kneels upon the brink,
And freely o'th' transparent Waves doth drink.
Refresh'd, he careless doth pursue his way,
No thanks to th' charitable Nymph doth pay,
Nor her once-rav'shing Charms can beg his stay:
Rises and slights what he did late adore;
Turns his ungratefull Back, never to see her more.—
Thus sang my Friend— But did Fair Martha know
The Truth and Love, that in my Soul do flow;
Her Virgin-Sweets She'd to my Arms resign,
Bless Me, and bless Her Self in being Mine.
No Goddess e're deserv'd so well as She!
And no True Lover e're exceeded Me.
The Twelve Rules of Friendship to my Worthy Friend, Mr Joshua Barnes, B. D. President of Emmanuel College in Cambridge.
FRiendship's the purest, the Divinest Love,
The onely Passion, Angels know above:
Where purg'd from Matter Souls do truly join,
Abstracted from all sordid low design,
And where no Mixture of the Sex creeps in.
The Gordian Knot, that nothing can unty,
No Time can wear, nor date of Age destroy.
Whose Rules, without the gawdy Dress of Art,
Accept from Him, who freely sends his Heart.
FIRST RVLE.
No Supercilious Look, no Cato's brow,
No surly State, or Pride, in Friendship show.
[Page 50]Act not a Master, or Superior's part
But freely to your Friend disclose your Heart.
When Friendship's bonds concording Hearts do tie,
Why should a distance 'twixt the Persons lie?
II.
Be Deaf to Rumour, and to whisper'd Lyes,
Which wicked Arts and Envious Tongues devise.
Detraction's secret-wounding Arrows fly
Silent as Night, and Black as Destiny.
Still keep One Ear for what your Friend may say:
Fame may deceive; in Iustice Hear his Plea.
III.
No base, mean Action of your Friend desire,
Nor basely act for Him, if He require.
Do vertuously, you'll please your vertuous Friend,
If not, let Friendship, not your Vertue, end:
That Friendship's bad, which Vertue can't commend.
IV.
Warn him of Dangers, which he doth not see
Thrô Ignorance, or Inadvertency;
Chiefly those Snakes, that under Flowers repose,
Pretended Friends, the very worst of Foes:
From these our treacherous Disappointments rise;
These know our Hearts, with these we do advice;
But Guard our selves from Open Enemies.
V.
Causeless Suspicions shun; they taint the Mind,
And make the best-meant Actions seem unkind.
Shew not too quick a sense of Injuries,
Our greatest G [...]iefs do from Opinion rise.
He, that on Trivial Grounds doth Frantick grow,
Doth live Vneasie, and makes Friendship so.
VI.
Honour your Friend's brave Acts with worthy Praise,
But don't your Eulogies to Flattery raise.
Labour'd Expressions flote above the Heart,
The Product not of Nature, but of Art.
Yet been't too sparing: If Extremes must be,
Let them upon the side of Kindness lie.
VII.
Severely Blame his faults, but Taunting spare.
Scorn from a Friend the deadli'est Sting doth wear,
And in a Friend's disguise a Foe is there.
Chide but with Goodness, blame with Clemency;
Publick Reproofs are kin to Calumny.
Comfort Him, if his Shame or Grief abound,
And pour in Oyl, when you have search'd the Wound.
VIII.
Speak well of Him; but shun officious Lies:
Immoderate Praises turn to Injuries.
Defend him Absent; Vindicate his Name,
And boldly from Detraction free his Fame.
Nay, if he's Justly taxt, excuse his Fault,
With all, from Truth, or Prudence, can be brought.
IX.
Be in your Kindness generous and free,
Give, but upbraid not: That turns Injury.
And when his Gratitude he'd make appear,
Accept his Presents, thô but mean they are.
Despise no Gift, that doth from Love proceed:
Slights and unkindness make Love deeply bleed.
X.
Counsel him Faithfully; let not Advice
From your Advantage or Designs arise.
[Page 52]We're all ill Judges of our Acts: Bless'd he,
Can with Impartial Eyes and Judgment see,
And hath a Friend, on whom he can rely.
His Interest be your Aim, and Truth your Guide:
Advise on Safety, not on Favour's side.
XI.
Be Gallant in's defence: For no design,
Fear, or unworthy thoughts your Love decline.
To' his Aid thrô strongest Opposition fly,
Nor draw your Hand back, till you've set him free.
Nothing's too dear for Friendship: For his sake
Your Name, Estate, and Life lay down at stake.
XII.
Value and prize his Kindness, Love him high,
In gallant Actions with his Friendship vie.
Wear him still next your Heart, the lasting stay,
When Health, Wealth, Pleasure, Honour fly away:
The mighty Cordial, that doth ease our trouble
Divides our Griefs, and makes our Pleasures double.
The Memorandum.
FRiendship can numerous Mountain-Faults pass by;
They are but Molehills in a Friendly Eye:
And Love can Multitudes of Sins conceal.—
But He, that Secrets doth reveal,
And what's entrusted to his Breast doth tell;
Or He, that treacherously his Friend doth smite,
Whispers Reproach, and stabs him in the Night,
Forfeits to all these Laws his Right:
Branded like Cain like Cain accursed too,
Foe to the World, and all the World his Foe,
Never may He the Joys of sacred Friendship know!
On the Phaenix.
I'M Nature's wonder, the Creation's glory,
Pride of Arabia, Prodigy of story:
On whom profusely Nature spends her store,
And after for a thousand years is Poor.
Wonder not then, she Me alone doth make;
So much from her my single Worth doth take,
Another cost would Bankrupt Nature break.
I, to my self both Parent am, and Heir;
My Parent Me, and I my Parent bear.
I'm always Diverse, and am yet the Same;
Find a new Life by dying in the Flame:
Chang'd, yet unchang'd, thrô endless Ages I
Wear out alone a long Eternity.
Nor yet can I with all my Pomp and State
Keep Scandal off, th' Attendant of the Great;
The Sceptick World only believes, I'm bred
In the warm Climes of a Romantick head.
My tedious Years I without Joys delude
In my uncomfortable Solitude:
The Birds and Beasts, and all the World besides
At Spring's approach do choose their Loving Brides,
Into Extatick Charms the hours improve,
And melt the Circling Moments into Love.
Those happy Minutes are to Me unknown,
Not all my Spices can their loss attone;
But I am curs'd, because I am Alone
"'Tis oft the Lot o'th' eminently Great,
"To want those Pleasures, meaner Men await;
"Captives to Grandeur, and the Slaves of State.
An Epitaph on his Dear Friend Mr. Robert Cony, the Younger, who died November the Ninth 1681. and lies buried in Weypole-Church in Marchland Norf. By J. B.
IN Prime of Youth and near to Manhood drawn,
Here envious Night opprest my hopefull Dawn:
Before the Nuptial Crown adorn'd my Head;
Before I tasted of the Bridal Bed,
In Parent Dust seal'd up to Death I lie
A sad Example of Mortality.
Beauty and Youth and Wit and Wealth are vain;
For I had All: Yet all could not obtain
A short Reprieve from the Unwelcome Grave:
The last Possession, that Poor Man must have.
Then let All know, how Nought by Death's regarded;
And Vertue's in the other World rewarded.
To my Worthy Friend Mr. Joshua Barnes B D. Senior Fellow of Emmanuel College, on his Incomparable History of King EDWARD the Third, &c.
TO bring back Fate, which knows not to Return;
And raise the Heroes from their silent Urn;
[Page 55]Long-past revolving Ages to restore,
And Acts, done many hundred Years before,
Mauger Obli [...]on, in Just Garbs to dress,
And bring August Shades from their dark Recess,
Out of the gloomy hidden Cave; where ly
Days past, like Dreams, and waning Moons slid by;
And mixed Heaps of lost Mortality:
To [...]a [...]se the World anew; lost Years to trace,
Make present Times to Ages past give place;
And Monarchs once again with their old Crowns to Grace:
Fame's quite-spent Lamp more brightly to Renew:—
Seem'd, Learned Friend, a Task befitting You.
The Ancients dream'd of Charmes, that brought the Moon
From her bright Orb, st [...]ugling, enraged, down:
But None could e're dark Shades to Life restore,
And break Fate's Adamantine Gates before;
Except
Alcides and
Apollo's AEscul [...] [...]u [...]
Son;
This They could do, and You as much have done:
Nay more, for You no common Life do give;
Your Heroes to Eternity do Live!
With this Addition to their smiling Fate,
You make them Happy, as You make them Great,
And add not onely to their Life, but State.
O [...]d Time in Your Learn'd Work grows Young again:
In You our Valiant Worthies Live and Reign.
Their Souls, as Rivers under Mountains Dive
And after in the open Air revive,
In our Great WILLIAM and his Captains Live.
The Mighty Grafton like Your Chandos [...]ell,
He liv'd, as Bravely, and He dy'd, as well:
To Edward That, and This to William Dear,
And both the GARTER'S honour'd Badge did wear:
Both dy'd too soon:—But both Immo [...]tal are.
[Page 56]Nor do Your
Heroes now Ignobly stand;
Once more they Influence their Native Land:
You give them Life, and they do Souls bestow;
They actuate the Senceless Clods below;
Reading their Acts Cowards do Valiant grow.
Th' Esseminate Gallant, on his Bed of Ease,
Feels a new Warmth on all his Vitals seize;
Gets a new Soul from each enlivening Word,
Rises a Champion, and calls for his Sword.
Nothing to' exalt our Glory doth remain,
But to Read You, and grow True Englishmen:
Your Book alone would armed Troops advance,
To claim once more our long-lost Right to FRANCE.
How Boundless was Your Mind; to fill that Sphear,
Where sparkling Fame did lofty Trophies rear!
How Fair and Beau [...]eous Your Idaeas were!
That could the Treaties, Councels, Battels, show;
Stupendious Acts, that made even Fate to bow;
And but seem'd fit for Your BLACK-PRINCE to do,
That Reign of Wonder; Gem of Times; the Glory,
But hardest part, of all the English Story:
When one Sun by our Conquering Arms beheld,
Two Monarchs slain, a Third to quit the Field;
Two Captive Kings to London's Tower were brought,
And injur'd Princes here for Comfort sought.
Our Edward then, the whole World's Love and Fear,
Did at his Will the Fate of Kingdoms steer:
H [...]ld Europe's Ballance, and fix'd Fortune's Wheel,
And where he turn'd, made Fate's strong Pillars reel.
To Merit more, than to Possess, did choose;
And p [...]offe [...]'d Empire bravely did refuse.
When, Honour's Darl [...]ng, his Victorious SON,
Kings, as He pleas'd, could make, or could dethrone:
And all the Neighbouring Monarchs thought their Crowns,
Fix'd with his Smiles, but tottering with his Frowns.
[Page 57]When
England was the Theatre of Fame,
And Warriours hither to gain Honour came.
Our EDWARD solely Valour's Umpire stood,
His Approbation made the Brave and Good.
Then High Exploits, and Acts on Vertue plac'd,
Above French Princes English Commons rais'd:
That Subjects (Vertue makes the meanest Great)
Five Kings at once could at their Tables treat.
When Victory due to Piety was given:
Their Arms forc'd Kingdoms and their Prayers took Heaven.
When Valiant and Religious Acts could meet,
Christian and Souldier mutually did greet.
History before was but like Fairy Land,
That thick with Monsters and wild Shapes did stand:
'Twas modell'd, not to' instruct; but cheat the Mind,
Truth and its usefull Ends were left behind,
And all for Flattery and mean Arts design'd.
But You did all its Primitive Worth restore;
Truth never look'd so Beautiful before.
Above Expression Soars the lofty Mind;
But You fit Words do for great Actions find.
Your lofty Style's fill'd with such Manly Heat;
You could have fought the Battels, that You writ.
Bold and Expressive, fit for Godlike Men:
Mars tun'd Your Soul and Phoebus steer'd Your Pen.
Our Souls go, as we read; our Present State,
Is lost i'th' Mighty Acts, that You relate;
We Joy at Good and Grieve at Adverse Fate.
We Glorious Patterns in each Line do read,
And here we truly may consult the Dead.
And now—
You, Modern Sparks, that in degenerate Ease,
Or active Vice spend Your ignoble Days!
[Page 58]That ne're did crown'd with Forreign Trophies come,
But brought the Vices and Diseases home:
Senceless of-Fame to late Posterity,
You can't be mention'd but for Infamy,
While Your great Sires embalm'd in Honourly.
Read This—and blush to see, how You disgrace
Those Names, whom Vertue to the Stars did raise,
Your Ancestors, their own and Nation's Fame,
You, their Degenerate Sons, to Both a Shame.
They Conquer'd France, which now Your Arms outbraves;
You're Apes to those, were Your Forefathers Slaves.
Why then, my Friend, should Your bright Rays be hid?
And You, that can new Life bestow, ly Dead?
Show to the World, You are for all things fit,
In
History True, in
Poema Latin [...]m Heroicum Franciados [...] Libb. 12. ja [...]jam abs [...]lvend [...].
Poetry a Wit.
That Your Black-Prince can now in You acquire
What Alexander did in vain desire,
An Homer, who his Godlike Acts might praise,
And found his Honour forth in endless Layes.
So sung by You, shall CRESSY's deathless Field,
Neither to Homer's Pen, nor Maro's yield.
But th' English Valour then shall soar as high,
As ever well-tongu'd Greece or Rome could fly.
Then Kings shall bribe Your Verse, and each Crown'd Head
With emulous Strife shall beg Your Muse's Aid:
Shall doe Great Acts, to be rehears'd by You;
And Vertue for Your Praise's sake pursue.
The Greatest Monarchs court You for their Friend,
And Presents, to bespeak your Favour, send:
Jealously strive each other to outvie
In Gifts to You; Who can return them Immortality.
On Old Age.
I.
OLD-Age, the State we all desire,
For none would immaturely die:
But Riddles in our Nature lie;
Thô we with frequent Prayers do it require;
Yet when Indulgent Heaven grants our Request,
How are we with its Weight opprest?
II.
In vain we for Content do seek;
Tir'd with what doth to us betide,
We wish for things as yet untri'd,
Which, when we have obtain'd, we still dislike.
Gray hairs we pray for, yet when they are come,
We querulously curse our Doom.
III.
So Life we do accept, and yet,
If we beforehand could foresee
Of our few days the Misery,
And had our choice, All would refuse the Cheat.
At all Adventures it becomes our Lot,
And's given to those, that know it not.
IV.
Except we early Victims fall,
Yet we this State must undergo:
When Age shall wrinkle Caelia's brow,
When Milo shall his shrunken Limbs bewail:
When all the Joys, do upon Youth attend,
Shall in unwelcome Aches end.
V.
Yet 'tis our fault, this State don't please;
Our Youth we foolishly engage,
And no Provision make for Age.
Inherent Vanity our Mind doth seize;
None of those Vertues laid in store, that might
Give to the wearied Mind delight.
VI.
The Wise and Vertuous well the Time can spend,
When the disinterested Mind
None of the Body's setters bind;
But Peace and Fame do on Gray hairs attend:
When well-spent Days add to the Aged powers,
And to Old Years insert Young hours.
VII.
The cooler hours of elder Days
Are well adapted to Delight,
On whom no turbulent Passions light:
'Tis folly that doth every state debase.
"Nothing more monstrous to the World appears,
"Than Gray-hair'd Fools, or Children of old Years.
Plutarch's Serpent.
A Subtle Serpent, that long time did reign
O're all the Subjects of the spacious Plain;
That often to old Age did Youth afford
And with his cast-off Skin new strength re [...]or'd;
In his Divided bosome long did bear
The fatal seeds of an Intestine war.
Th' Ambitious Tail, that long time had been led
(And Justly too) by Conduct of the Head,
[Page 61]To
Iove complain'd, that now it was but due,
That he should Govern for a Day or two.
In anger Iove did to the prayer consent
To teach Ambitious Fools to be content;
And a Decree unalterable made,
That in no case the Head should lend his Aid.
The Tail, a part of great Activity,
But with a curse annext, It cannot see,
With haughty Pride assumes the fatal state,
And makes the once-commanding Head to wait:
What was his Lord doth in proud Triumph draw,
And now despises what once gave the Law.
Proud of the Government thrô Woods he hies,
O're Rocks and fatal Precipices flies.
The Head beholds the Danger and doth fear,
The stupid Tail hath neither Eye, nor Ear;
Nor Reason to perceive, when Danger's near.
Till, after many dreadfull Perils past,
The wrigling Tail in narrow holes at last,
And dark blind Caverns, is past help set fast.
Forward he cannot, backward must not move,
And no way's left, but to Petition Iove.
Iove is implor'd, but's Deaf unto the cry,
In the deserved plague doth let him die;
And to the World doth a sad warning shew,
"What, when the Rabble governs, will ensue.
The Looking-Glass to Gellia.
FOR Interest Men know how to please,
And praise even your Deformities:
Wither'd and Old you shall be Young,
And purchase Beauty from their Tongue,
[Page 62]Not your own Art their Wit shall want,
They'l doe in Words, what you in Paint.
If You do laugh, why▪ I laugh too;
If You do weep, to weep I know:
Yet think not, 'tis for flattery meant;
I what You are do represent.
When You was Young, I show'd You so,
And alter, now You alter, too:
Yet thó I thus Extreams do try,
The Change in You not Me doth lie.
When You with Paint bedaub your Face;
And call back long-lost Youthfull Grace:
When You new Sets of Teeth prepare;
And deck your Head with others Hair:
When You your hated Breath perfume,
And line your Mouth, that stinks of Rheume:
'Tis not my fault, that You look Fair;
I truly show the Cheats, You wear.
With Shows You first the World deceive,
I back to You the Poison give.
Yet, faithless Gellia, know among
The Arts you have to make You Young,
Death can't be chouc'd with borrow'd Grace,
Nor will mistake your Painted Face.
Not all your Instruments of Pride
Your Age's Date from him can hide.
Death knows his Time, will surely come,
And lay You old and ugly in your Tomb.
On Speech.
I.
THOU wondrous Modulation of the Air,
The brightest Index of the Heart:
Who all those Lively Signatures dost bear,
By which our thoughts to others We impart!
[Page 63]What else would in Oblivion's shadows sleep,
To Knowledge by thy help doth creep!
II.
There's not a secret passion of the Mind,
No Motion in the Soul doth rise;
But it from Speech can fit Expressions find,
And's Judged of more by the Ears, than Eyes.
How do fit Words and Sentences advance,
And on our Tongues in order dance!
III.
In various sounds the senceless Creatures play,
And welcome the returning Spring:
Their joys i'th' rudes notes the Beasts Essay;
And tunefull Birds their warbling Carols sing,
Distinct their Voices; only Man is found;
That can Articulate the Sound.
IV.
Admired Faculty, that stamps the Air,
And seals upon't, what We would have,
Which doth a Draught of our Ideas bear,
And keeps the speaking Portraitures, We gave,
Doth the Mysterious tract of Thoughts unfold;
Thô each Tongue hath a different Mold!
V.
This Privilege, granted alone to Man,
No other Creatures do partake:
Beasts have no Language, 'tis well known; nor can.
We prove, what Speech Angels above do speak.
All that belongs to them do Mysteries grow,
Stupendious heights, we never know.
VI.
Angelick Motions we can never find,
Nor trace the steps, in which they move.
To our Infirmities they'r not confin'd,
Nor Nature's Laws do fetter them above.
[Page 64]All, that we know of those Superiour Powers
Is, that their State is not like Ours.
VII.
They may by Heavenly Hieroglyphicks speak,
To which our Souls can never rise:
Draughts of their thoughts by forms or figures make,
Or unintelligible Mysteries.
Their Tongue all apprehension doth excell,
No Ear can hear't, no Voice can tell.
VIII.
What empty shrunken things our Minds would be,
What Melancholy on them seize;
Were they debarr'd the Joys of Phantasie,
And roving Thoughts, which the tir'd Soul do ease:
Where in unbounded fields the Mind may fly,
And find new blandishments for Joy.
IX.
How much more miserable were our State,
Were This, our greatest Comfort. [...]ed;
That mollifies the Stings of angry Fate;
Unloads the Sorrows of the anxious Head:
Doth cure the Wounds, that from Fate's Arrows fall,
And in a Friend's Breast buries all?
X.
Delight of Life and Mirrour of the Heart,
By which our Thoughts, which none can see,
We to our own and others Joys impart;
And bring to View the boundless Treasury.
Thou of our Inward Soul a Scheme should'st give;—
And curs'd be He, that doth Deceive!
XI.
Bond of Society and Tie of Love,
From whence doth lasting Friendship flow:
Thou our Exalted pleasure dost improve;
And art the Universal Soul below.
[Page 65]With raptur'd Joys thou charm'st the fleeting Hours,
And lull'st up Love in shady Bowers.
XII.
Rhetorick, that doth th' unstable People move
And raise, or lay, as Storms the Sea,
From well-plac'd Words and Reasons doth improve,
And ows his Energy, bless'd Speech, to Thee.
What was a Chaos, thou a World did'st make:
From thee the Mass did Beauty take.
XIII.
The Raptur'd Flights of Poetry do owe
Their Birth and Beauty unto Thee:
From Thee the fam'd Castalian Waters flow,
An in soft Musick's Numbers melted bee.
How low would all their Lofty Flights be laid.
If not in Robes by Thee array'd:
XIV.
Reason may in the solid Mind be found,
And Judgment in the Soul appear:
But they'r like Treasures buried under ground,
Or secret Mines, that do no Products bear.
Thou deck'st them in Rich Garbs, and mak'st them shine;
Thou stamp'st them, and they'r currant Coin.
On Time.
THou saw'st (and oh! how glorious was the sight?)
When the Creation smil'd at Infant Light,
And banish'd all the Dismall shades of Night.
When the bright Births at fruitfull Heaven's command
Immac'ulate drop'd from the Great Workman's hand,
E're Sin, or Curse, their genuine Beauty stain'd.
[Page 66]The Rowling Ages, that have since slid by,
Have all been brought forth by thy Midwifry:
From the first Monarch, but without a Crown,
To Him, that last forsook th' Uneasie Throne.
Thou saw'st at first, when swelling Families,
(Widely dispersing round their Colonies)
Did into Towns; Towns into Cities rise.
When Right of Empire was in Fatherhood,
And every one was King of his own Blood.
Till the Paternal Rule in Numbers lost,
In various Multitudes and Errours crost,
The Reins of Empire were by One ingrost.
Thou saw'st the Faults, in the first Empire grew,
The vicious Habits, its Destruction drew:
Till th' fatal Period swiftly hurrying on,
The mighty Babel from its height was thrown,
And from its shatter'd Limbs, in pieces broke,
Their Rise the lesser States and Kingdoms took:
Till one above the rest more Powerfull grown,
For Iustice, Valour, and for Wisedom known,
Exalts by secret steps her lofty head,
And, some by kindness won, and some by dread,
O're all at last doth her wide Empire spread.
Till she, or Cruel, or Effeminate grown,
Less hurt by others Arms, than by her own,
Falls into th' Pit of sure Destruction.
Thus hast thou view'd the slippery State of things,
The Persian, Grecian, and the Roman Kings:
And shortly shal't the sad Catastrophe
And Fall o'th' now-decreasing CRESCENT see.
Wisest of Beings! What we do design,
And in dark Caverns of our Breast confine;
Ev'n where no Thought comes, where no Eye can peep,
But all's lap'd up in misty Clouds of sleep,
[Page 67]What Princes wish, or Cabinet Councils plot,
The Births, that are from their Conjunction got,
Subtlest Interpreter, thou dost reveal;
Thô Oaths and Sanctions do the secret Seal.
Even what Just Heaven before the World decreed,
What can from nothing, but his Hand proceed:
What shall to Peasants happen, what to Kings,
What to the Lofty, what to Humbler things:
What swallows up Man's bold and daring Mind,
And where even Angels can no footsteps find,
What doth surpass th' Intelligences sight,
Or hath, or shall by Thee be brought to Light.
Nor is't enough, thou saw'st the former days,
And in our Times know'st, what will come to pass:
But when this Generation hath its Doom,
And crowding Numbers in our Places come;
When all, that now is High, must Low be laid,
And Generations after Us are dead:
Then Thou wilt see, what now doth fly our Eyes,
What Abject People shall to Empire rise:
Where Mighty Citties, now their Nation's Glory,
Shall lie in Dust and be forgot in Story:
And in some unthought unsuspected place,
Others shall in their Room their proud Heads raise.
What Families shall up to Rule be born,
Whom Ages past ne're knew, or else did scorn:
And all be to such Alteration brought,
The very Ancient Names of things forgot:
That even the World may in the World be sought.
The Mighty Innovator Time, that brings
Those changes, are not in the Power of Kings.
What neither their Commands nor Arms can raise,
By secret unknown means He brings to pass.
[Page 68]Should
Scipio or should
Caesar now awake,
And into Light from their dark Mansions break;
Should They, to what was the World's Mistress, come,
How would they wonder at once Glorious Rome!
Their once-known Palaces would seek in vain,
Nor their Triumphal Arches find remain:
But She that did of the World's Empire boast,
See in her Heaps of Scatter'd Ruines lost;
And to such steps of Desolation led
Her very Name and Valour buried.
Little they thought, what Time would once bring forth,
That the despised People of the North,
The Barbarous Scum, which Roman Souls did hate,
The Dregs and Lees of Men and Scourge of Fate,
Should thrô the Barrs of that strong Empire break,
And the vast Fabrick into pieces shake,
That other Nations proud with their Success,
Should their own Fame and Rome's Contempt increase:
Till o're Her every Land did Conquest boast,
And took again what their Forefathers lost.
They knew not what was in Fate's leaves enrol'd.
Nor would have credited, had they been told:
Such Revolutions there's no Art can tell;
'Tis only Time, that will the Truth reveal.
Time! Thou dost bring things into open view,
But Thou can'st drink a Cup of Lethe too.
Thou over all dost draw a sullen, Cloud,
And dost in Mists, what's now apparent throw'd;
The Acts of Ancient Days, to us unknown,
Bu [...]ied long since in deep Oblivion:
What Heroes did, and Common People bore,
Forgetfull Time, thou can'st not now restore!
Those Noble Seats, that Honour'd once our Isle,
When Roman Eagles nested in our Soil,
[Page 69]Low with their Mistress
Rome in dust are laid;
No footstep's found, may lead unto their Head:
Are sought in vain among their poor remains,
Shown but to puzzle Antiquaries Brains.
As Father Ocean here to Earth doth Lend,
And there his Watry Empire doth extend;
So thou dost sometimes new Inventions show,
But hidest other Rarer Matters low.
Tobacco, Guns, and Printing late arose.
But We are Rob'd of Richer things, than those;
Faith, Justice, Honour, Liberality,
And Ancient Friendship deep in Lethe ly.
Where is an Hero now, that owns a Muse:
Hawks, Hounds, and Mistresses they'd rather choose.
Thy Essence doth a Train of Wonders hold:
Thou never art above a Moment old,
Yet Thou beheld'st the rude mishapen Mass,
E're Light, Heaven's First-born, show'd her darling Face.
The Circling Years do dy and leave their Place,
And new Times in their rooms their Heads do raise:
Yet Thou Coaeval with the World dost Live,
And to its utmost Period shalt survive.
Thou'rt ever here, and yet art ever past,
Thou'rt ever dying, yet dost ever last.
Thy subtle Parts always in Motion be,
Yet Thou dost ever a Succession see.
Waves crowd on Waves, and while We look they'r past,
And Eager Brethren after them do hast.
These press the former, those behind them press,
Nor let the fresh Supplies the Stream decrease:
New Waves the Place of what pass'd by retain;
The River yet unchanged doth remain.
Thou of all Jewels the most Precious, (Time!)
Of all the Stores o'th' East or Western Clime.
[Page 70]Imperious Gold, that all things doth command,
Whose powerfull Charms there's nothing can withstand:
Doth here an End of his vast Empire see;
That cannot have an Influence over Thee.
Thy moving Wheels cannot be stop'd by force,
No Bribes perswade Thee to renew thy Course:
Deaf to Intreaties, and to all our Moan,
"Once past, Thou'rt lost, and art for ever gone.
A Drug, while Thou upon our hand dost stay,
Which We well know not how to throw away:
But when thou'rt past, a Iewel in our Eye;
Whom not the Treasures of the World can buy▪
Ages before our Birth We can't recall;
They no Relation have to Us at all:
What then was done, as We can ne're retrieve,
So neither are We bound account to give.
The Future Time We know not, that 'twill come;
We may before to morrow have our Doom;
We may be Summon'd by Death's Mighty Power:
And when We dy, Time is to Us no more.
"The Present Time's then all the Time We have,
"Those precious Moments our best Conduct crave:
"That We be Wise our latest Stake to Save.
On a Covetous Man. Mart. Lib. 4. Ep. 40.
WHen Heaven to You a small Estate did lend,
You kept your Coach and Footmen did attend:
But when blind Fortune had your Store increas'd,
And ten times doubled what You had at least:
Your Narrow Soul, contracted with the Store,
Lost all the Pleasure, it did tast before.
[Page 71]A Curse into your Treasures Heaven did put;
You groan'd beneath their weight, and went afoot.
For all your Merits what doth then remain;
But that we pray, Heaven send your Coach again?
DORINDA weeping.
I.
Stay pretty Prodigal, oh stay;
Throw not those Pearly Drops away:
Each little shining Gem might be
Price for a Captive Prince's Liberty.
See down her Cheeks the shining Jewels slide,
Brighter than Meteors, that from Heaven do glide.
II.
Sorrow ne're look'd before so Fair,
Nor ever had so sweet an Air:
All-conquering Rays her Woes do dart,
And unknown Passions to the Soul impart.
More Fair she looks, while Griefs her face doth shrowd;
Than the Sun peeping thrô a watry cloud.
III.
Oh turn away those Killing Eyes!—
Venus from such a Sea did rise.
Love doth in Tears triumphant ride;
Such mighty Charms can never be deni'd:
That at one sight such different Passions move,
Relenting Pitty and Commanding Love
IV.
Come, curious Artist, as they fall,
Gather the shining Jewels all:
Harden the Gems, and each will be
More valued, than the Indie's Treasury:
[Page 72]But if the secret doth exceed thy Art,
It is but borrowing Hardness from her Heart.
To Sr. James Butler, on the Death of the Lady Butler: In a Dialogue between H. and J.
(H.)
WElcome dear Friend! Thou dost my Griefs dispell,
No Sorrow long can wound, when Thou art well.
Ill-boding Dreams o're my sad Fancy rowl'd,
And the approach of some black Fate foretold:
Strange frightfull Spectres o're my Mind were spread;
I saw the Vertues and the Graces bleed,
As thô the Soul o'th' Universe was dead.
Avert the Omen Heaven!
(I.)
Thy Cautions spare,
There's nothing left that now deserves thy Care.
All Worth and Excellence with One is fled,
The Quintessence of all, that's Great, is dead.
Th' Expiring World groan'd at Her Funeral,
With whom the Glories of her Sex did fall.
(H.)
What ill do my Presaging thoughts Divine?
Spare One, Just Heaven, I'll to thy Will resign;
One Inno'cent spare; and all the rest be Thine.
(I.)
We multiply the sorrows, that we dread,—
Meet then the Storm that hover's o're thy Head;
The Fair, Chaste, Spouse of Noble Butler's dead.
(H.)
Too much—Fate hath not now a Curse in store,
I've heard the worst of Ills, and Fear no more.
(I.)
The whole World seem'd distracted at her fall,
Amazing Horrour seized upon All.
[Page 73]So, when the
Sun's Eclips'd, with
Panick fear
The Savages confused Cries do rear,
And think, the World's Catastrophe is near.
With frightfull Fury hideously they roar
To scare the Monster, would the Sun devour.
They gain their Point, but we lament in vain,
Our Sun is set, never to Rise again.
(H.)
Yet let's Lament; 'tis all that we can doe,
To think of Bliss, that's past, amidst our Wo,
Heightens our Grief; but vents our Sorrows too.
(I.)
She fell an Holocaust of Chast Delight,
Beauteous and Fair, as Rays of new-born Light.
Charming, as Vertues i'th' Idea be,
Or Graces, seen by th' Intellectual Eye.
(H.)
So falls the Rose, Queen of the fragrant Bowers,
She falls the Glory o'th' Enamell'd Flowers,
While Heav'en laments her Death in melting Showers.
(I.)
To blooming Youth a boundless Wit was given,
Not go with Labour, but infus'd from Heaven.
Beauty did o're her Soul and Body shine,
Her Body seem'd, ev'n as her Soul, Divine.
CHORVS.
Wit, Youth, and Beauty made Her Bright,
Did all in Her agree:
None else, but Phoebus, God of Light,
Is Sourse of all the Three.
(H.)
Angels can't sin: They'r plac'd in such a State,
They nor can Fall, nor can Degenerate.
They merit Praise, who by their Choice are Good,
Not those, who can't be Vitious, if They wou'd.
Nor justly can Rewards to Angels come;
Vertue's not Abstinence in them, but Doom.
[Page 74]How high and Glorious do Her acts appear,
That liv'd in Heaven, thô in this lower Sphear:
And, thô a Mortal, rival'd Angels here?
They've no Temptation, and She sco [...]ned all:
They live Above, She trampled on this Ball.
To what was Good, like Angels, vigorous still,
And every thing did Dare to doe, but [...]
(I.)
What Vertues were there, Put her Soul did grace,
Vertues not known, but in an Higher place,
Nor acted, but by the Seraphick Race?
Her Help, like Guardian Angels, she bestow'd,
Bounteous as Nature, or as Nature's God.
On all she look'd with an Auspicious Ray,
So Good, from Her none went displeas'd away.
And so Devout, she seem'd all o'r Divine,
That Hallelujah's her whole task had been,
Or that one Saint pray'd at another's Shrine.
(H.)
She's Dead! not all her Worth could bribe her Fate;
So in the Grave, d [...]vested of all state,
Lie Young and Old, the Humble and the Great.
Th [...]u, Butler's Hero; who 'mong all the Stars
Of Courtly Beauties ne're saw'st One like Hers,
Art left like Us in vain to seek relief:
"Greatness is not exempt from Fate or Grief.
That Loss is trivial, which we can supply,
How stinging that, which Riches cannot buy,
Nor doth i'th' reach of Art or Honour lie!
To Thee a while the Heavenly Form was show'd,
Worthy the Gift or Ransome of a God.
Thy blessed Arms the Trea [...]ure d d enfold,
(Too soon, alass! with Saints to be enrold.)
And when thy Soul did to high Transports rise,
She sunk from thy Admiring, Longing, Eyes.
[Page 75]Who can wish Thee thy Sorrows to refrain▪
Even the Souls in Hell know no such Pain,
As once to' have been in Heaven and then to lose't again.
(I.)
Farewell, Heaven's Best of Gifts! In Thee were laid
Perfections, that have Gods of Mortals made.
Greatness of Soul, without insulting Pride.
Humility, where no mean thoughts reside;
And Vertue, unto Candour near ally'd!
(H.)
Thou Highest Point, that Nature could attain,
The Moddel, She can never [...]each again.
Th' Acme, to which our finite Worth can rise,
Perfect, if Ought can be below the Skies.
CHORVS.
The World no longer gives us Ease,
All here must loathsome be:
But doubly Heaven our Souls will please,
When there We meet with Thee.
On a Pearl.
I.
The daring Negro dives for Me,
And I'm the noble Price of Blood:
Blind with my Rays he doth no danger fee.
The common Stones in Quiet sleep;
Nor are torn from their Mother's Arms, the Deep.
So curs'd 'tis to be eminently Good ;
No Rocks, nor shelte [...]s Me can shrowd.
II.
Some say, I am condensed Dew,
And from high Heaven my Extract claim:
That Drops, whom Night upon the Sea doth strow,
Till they are big with Heavenly Embrio's grown:
From Pearly Drops of Dew at first I came,
And hardned I am but the same.
III.
My Worth I from Opinion get,
And roving thoughts o'th' empty Mind:
In Me the Price of Provinces to eat,
The lavish Cleopatra taught,
And drink dissolved Kingdoms at a Draught.
Such Sparkling Juice not Gods themselves can find;
But must to Nectar be confin'd.
IV.
Condens'd in Regions of the Main,
The Wife think Me a Sunbeam set;
Where I my Orient hew unchang'd retain:
When Sol doth gild fair Thetis face,
And the Sea represents a Burning-glass;
Where the contracted Rays in one do meet,
Hardned by Cold they Me beget.
V.
Yet thô I'm of AEthereal kind,
My Habitation is but mean;
To rugged Rocks and Oyster-shells confin'd:
So Heaven doth many a Gallant Mind,
To a deformed crazy Body bind.
Both promise little, while the Shell is seen,
But yet the Pearl is found within.
On the Earth, our Common Mother.
THOU Universal Mother of Us all,
From whom the Creatures have Original;
[Page 77]From Monarch
Man, with awfull Empire crown'd,
To the base Reptile creeping on the ground.
There's nothing, that hath Life, but owes its Birth
To Father Sun and teeming Mother Earth.
With genial Warmth He doth Her Bosom heat,
She with wide Arms doth his Embraces meet:
Conceives, grows big, and from Her fruitfull Womb,
The Lovely Births in Beauteous Order come.
Nor Life alone Her Liberal Hand doth give,
Her Bosom bears the Food, on which they Live.
With needfull Herbage She doth cloath the Field,
That Nourishment to Man and Beast doth yeild.
Each Species of Her Creatures finds Her Good,
Appropriating to each kind Her Food.
And, that the Generations might not end,
With seminal Vertue She doth them befriend.
Each Creature gets his Like, and not one Plant
A way to Propagate his Kind doth want.
Unlike the Tree, from whence it fell, the Seed
By wondrous Vertue doth the Species breed.
And, what no form o'th' Parent doth retain,
By Plastick Power doth get its Like again.
Nor is She Mother and kind Nurse alone;
Her Arms receive Us, when our Race is run:
And when our wearied Days we bring to end,
We find Her Bosom an Eternal Friend.
There in our Resting-place we all lie down,
All sense of Grief and former Sorrow flown,
"Life is to Trouble ty'd, the Grave to none.
The former Ages, that long since slid by,
At Quiet in Her Clasping Arms do ly.
The King and Peasant do together rest:
No Pride fills One, nor Envy th' Other's breast.
The present Ages the same Fate shall have,
Tend to their Common Resting-place the Grave.
[Page 78]And Ages not yet sprung from Fate's Decree,
When they've run out the Line of Destiny,
(An equal Fate Death upon all things brings)
Shall all be lost i'th' Mass and crowd of Things.
So doth the River borrow from the Main
Those Streams, that rest not, till they'r there again.
From its first Rise thrô devious ways it goes,
With swift unwearied Course to th' Sea it flows,
And in its Mother's Lap seeks long Repose.
The Parting Lover.
I.
BEneath a Mournfull Yew, more than half-Dead,
The Melancholy Damon fate;
With Moving Accents fighing out his Fate,
The Object of his Passion fled:
Caelia, the Glory of the Plains,
Caelia, the Flame of all the Youthfull Swains;—
With pale dead Eyes he saw her Flight,
His Eyes Just closing in Eternal Night.
His loaden bosom thus his Sorrow spoke,
His Words and Heart thus at one instant broke.
II.
"So by Design or Chance, some Lonely Wretch,
"Left on a distant, Northern, Land
"With Swelling Eyes beholds the barren Strand,
"Th' uncomfortable, naked, Beach;
"Where grizely Famine leads the way,
"Fruitfull in nothing, but in Beasts of Prey.
"Monsters behind his back do roar,
"The Sea Destruction doth present before.
"And if to Heaven he looks with weeping Eyes,
"He sees that setting Sun, that ne're will rise.
III.
"What shall He do, lost Wretch! Where shall He go▪
"His Sighs the Fatal Winds increase;
"And flouds of Tears do swell the Mounting Seas:
"All things conspire unto his Woe.
"The ragged Rocks no comfort give,
"The barren Sands on them forbid to Live.
"With sooty Wings sad Night draws on,
"A Night, that ne're will see a Rising Sun:
"Till griping Famine him doth eat away,
"Or He to hungry Jaws becomes a Prey.
IV.
"And to increase his Woe, far off at Sea
"The Ship, in which his Hope's confin'd,
"Opens Her Bosom to the Prosperous Wind,
"Regardless of his Misery.
"Loudly He doth of Fate complain,
"Loudly laments his Wretched State in vain.
"The Noisy Billows cannot hear;
"Relentless Rocks are deaf unto his Prayer,
"The floating Ships before the Winds do play:
"The Winds bear them, his Hopes, and fruitless Prayers away.
The Chase of the Fox at Welby 1677. To St. John Bennet of Welby, Esquire.
THE Morn was fair and still; the Heaven was clear,
And not one [...]ullen Star would disappear:
The Winds were not yet up; but in their Beds
In a deep Sleep had sunk their Drowsie Heads:
The Sluggard Sun had not yet left his Rest,
Nor rais'd his weary Head from Thetis Breast:
When I in Field a Gallant Train did meet,
For Vigorous Sport and Generous Actions fit:
[Page 80]They all on winged Coursers mounted stay
And big with Expectation wait the Prey.
Their curious Spies they first send out to try
And make Discovery of the Enemy:
These Scorn, as others do, to trust the Sight,
Abus'd so oft, so seldom in the Right:
Which every palpable Appearance scapes,
And cheats it with Imaginary shapes:
A s [...]rer Guide leads these sagacious Spies,
That makes the Nose Supply the place of Eyes.
Their cautious Foe, the Fox, had fled the Light,
And wisely before Day had crept from sight;
Gorg'd with his Prey, and in his Brakes immur'd,
Fearless He slept and thought himself secur'd:
But his Pusuers trace his hidden Course,
And follow him by a Magnetick Force,
First they employ their curious Nose to find
Those subtle Atoms, he had left behind;
Those Exhalations in his Footsteps lie,
That from his Breath, or from his Sweat do slie:
So Small, they to our Eyes do disappear,
And undiscern'd mix with the Common Air.
These, as i'th' wanton Wind they play about,
Their Noses, Chymist-like, can draw them out;
And following the Stream, these Atoms make,
Run to the place, from whence the Fountain brake.
Mean while the Fox, wak'd with th' unusual Noise,
And with Attentive Ears catching the Voice,
Fears some Pursuers; but doth wonder, how
Thrô all his Mazes they his Course should know:
What Eyes could trace his Footsteps on the Green,
What Witchcraft thus could follow him unseen.
But now not trusting to a Longer stay
Resolves with silent Steps to steal away,
[Page 81]And use those secret Arts, and that Deceit,
With which his raging Followers he could cheat:
But as he thrô the shady Goss doth slide,
By one o'th' Watchfull Huntsmen he's espi'd.
His Joyfull Horn doth quickly tell it out,
And's Eccho'd back again by all the Rout:
A noise more Dismall than the Mandrake's Voice,
A Noise, that chills the Fox's Blood to Ice.
The Sentence not more sad to th' Guilty Man,
Or Cannon to the trembling Indian.
Thunder speaks Musick to't. Death's in each Note,
And sure Destruction breathes from every throat.
A Plague lies in each Breath, He hates to meet;
And wishes oft, his Ears were turn'd to Feet.
Yet to his Arts he flies, and all doth use,
With which so oft he could his Foes abuse.
The River, with his wanton Banks that plays,
Runs not more secret, nor more winding Ways,
Nor Dancing Atoms change more quick their Round,
Nor Snow, that hovers loth to touch the Ground.
But all (alass!) in vain his Arts he tries,
In vain Acts over all his Treacheries:
And like those, that would from Diseases run,
He flies a while from what he cannot shun:
Nor can He hope to scape, thô ne'er so fleet,
That Death, that's brought him by an Hundred feet.
For the quick-scented Dogs thrô all the Ways,
And those strange Shapes, that cautious Reynard plays,
With an unerring Course pursue their Chase.
Follow him, where no Tract is left behind,
And catch the Scent, that dances in the Wind;
Extract it from the Mass of other Parts,
And find it, thô mix'd with a thousand Arts.
[Page 82]Noses so qui
[...]k and pure, methinks, should find
The Secret tract, an Angel leaves behind:
And might with little pains in time be brought
To trace the wandring Passage of a Thought!
Thus, while they follow with an eager Cry,
And chase their faint and panting Enemy,
O'th' suddain all was hush'd, and every Throat
In a dull silence choak'd his joyfull Note.
No Shout, nor Noise, did rend the parting Air,
Only the raging Huntsmen fret and swear.
All ply their busie Noses, round they coast
To catch that Scent, which in the Crowd was lost:
Till the Grave
One of the Finde [...]s.
Talbot with a
Spanish pace
The long-lost and neglected Scent doth trace;
Finds what their eager Hast had left behind,
And catch'd it Just dissolving in the Wind.
He gives the Signal; strait they follow, all
With their Loud throats do one another call,
And, striving to regain the Time, they'd lost,
With doubled Hast after their Foe they post:
And with such winged Speed they now pursue;
The unknown Foe is quickly brought to view.
When Jo! a mixed Crowd from th' neighbouring Town,
Warn'd by the Noise, tumultuously came down;
All, arm'd with Pitchfork, Spit, Flail, Spade and Pole,
To kill the Fox, that had their Poultry stole,
Outnoise the Dogs, and with loud Curses fill
The Air with sound of Follow, follow, kill!
"Kill him, cries One, he stole my Peckled Hen,
"And got my fatted Capons out o'th' Pen.
Another Woman lets [...]er Tongue fly loose,
And cries, "the Thief did kill her Brooding Goose.
"My Cock, faith One, my Turkey, faith Another,
"My pretty, Copled, Pullet, cries the tother,
[Page 83]Then all poor
Reynard with fell Curses rate;
With Noises rude and inarticulate.
The Amazed Fox, astonish'd at the Noise
Much of the Dogs, more of the Women's Cries;
Seeing his useless Arts no help could show,
Resolves at last to see, what Force would doe:
Summons his Vigor, doth new Courage rear,
And down the Wind his even Course doth steer.
So some smooth River, loth to leave the Plains,
And those fresh Fields, where Mirth and Pleasure reigns,
In many wandring Turns his Passage takes,
A thousand Stops, a thousand Windings makes:
Plays with his flowry Banks, oft turns his Head
And with full Eyes o'relooks his watry Bed,
Courts every wanton Shade, and feigns Delay,
Untill at last, unable more to stay,
Forc'd by the raging Streams, that do descend,
His direct Course He to the Sea doth bend.
The Fox begins; the Chase they all pursue,
Swift, as wing'd Thoughts e're to far Countries flew:
Light's flow to them, the sluggish Wind doth stay;
They catch that Scent, his Wings had bore away.
All that by Force or Courage could be shown,
That could by Swiftness, or by Art be done;
Th' Industrious Fox did for his Safety try;—
"But there's no struggling with our Destiny.
He's grown Infectious to himself; — They find
His Course by th' fatal Breath, he left behind.
His Breathing brings his Ruine on; that Breath,
That gives to others Life, to him gives Death.
Death doth from Breathing, or Refraining grow;
To Breathe is Death, and not to Breathe, is so.
At last the Fox unable more to strive,
Unable more their Fury to survive:
[Page 84]Seeing i'th' Dog's approach his certain Fate,
Resolves to sell his Life at a dear rate.
So some great Hero, compass'd by his Foes,
Death and Destruction all around him strows:
With fiery Rage on all Opposers flies,
And makes a Bulwark of slain Enemies:
Sure not to Live, unwilling yet to dy,
Till he hath left a dear-bought Victory.
Thus the brave Fox, when all his hopes were dead,
And no way left to hide his loathed Head,
Resolves, he will not unrevenged dy,
Nor fall a tame and heartless Enemy:
With Rage salutes the First; his bloody Jaws
Fix'd on the next, do make the Others pawse,
And keep an awfull Distance; Till they all
With one accord upon their Foe do fall,
In vain he strives, in vain he fights; for soon
Being by the Raging Tempest overthrown:
He with a faint and trembling Voice doth cry;
"I liv'd by Rapine and by Rapine dy.
On a Mandrake.
I.
THE Play of Nature under ground,
The Draught, that from her Hands doth fall
In Regions, where no Light is found,
But Sullen Darkness Covers all:
Like Man; as like, as Draughts could be;
Where Nature had no Eyes to see.
II.
Each Limb and Part exactly drawn,
Doth much our Admiration raise;
Nature her Mimick Art hath shown,
And wantonly with Mankind plays:
The very Sex She don't omit.
III.
In this the Picture doth excell,
And doth above the Substance rise:
The Mandrake doth in Regions dwell,
Unseen, unknown to Mortal Eyes;
And, where our final Rest we have;
Doth Live and Flourish, in the Grave.
On Man's unhappy Composition.
UNhappy Man! how ill in Thee are Join'd,
A Feeble Body, and an Active Mind.
A Soul of Fire, a Body but of Earth;
That do from different Regions draw their Birth:
One Natu'rally doth tend to Heaven above;
Th' Other tow'rd Earth, from whence it came, doth move.
When such Discordant Parts in Man do meet,
They Justle and each other roughly Greet:
The Motions of the Soul the Body sway;
Which every Nod and Impulse should obey:
But at each Sally of the Towring Mind,
With wearied Journeys That doth lag behind.
Thoughts are our Plagues; the Beasts, that none do know,
Are Free from trouble and resentment too.
As Nature bids, they every thing receive,
And take it, as her Bounteous Hand doth give.
No pining Thoughts do sowre the Joys, they tast,
No preying Passion doth their Body wast;
While Ours by the Souls Motion's worn so thin;
'Twill scarce keep Life, and Breath, Life's Tenant, in.
At Things above Ambition makes us Soar,
And grasp at what is plac'd beyond our Power:
[Page 86]Our feeble Strength we ne'r consult: And then
No wonder, We are tumbled back again.
A chain of Sorrows hangs upon our State:
We for Impossibilities do wait,
Anxiously seek for what will never come,
And yet are angry, when We meet our Doom.
The fault doth not in outward Causes ly,
But in our Judgment, that is warp'd awry.
Our Power's confin'd, and we should Happy be,
If We the Limits of our Power could see.
If We could fix our wandring Thoughts at home,
Nor let beyond our Sphear our Wishes roam,
All things, We see, are Passive here below,
Nor from themselves their Power-to-act doth flow,
They'r dead, unless some greater Essence give
Influx of being, that may make them Live.
'Tis only Heaven doth purely act, and can,
Crumble in Dust the vast Designs of Man:
His Will must stand, whatever We Design,
Nothing can stop the course of things Divine.
All Aids are useless; what is Infinite,
Doth need no Help, nor doth Increase admit.
How Happy Man, was He intirely One,
Nor did admit of Composition;
Was his AEthereal Soul of Heavenly breed;
Like Angels, from the clogs of Matter freed:
Or, like the Beasts, only with Flesh array'd,
And only of unthinking Matter made.
One State would all his Hopes and Thoughts exceed;
By th' Other He would from all Care be freed.
Excess of Ioy in Orre his Soul would Crown;
In th' Other Ignorance all Fears would drown.
The Sceptick, against Mechanism.
LEarning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line,
And weakly do we guess at things Divine!
When those near hand our strict Discovery fly,
What Hopes to dive into Infinity?
The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire,
And boldly doth to every thing aspire:
But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall;
When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!
Our Apprenhension Angels do exceed,
Like Thought, they can to distant Regions speed,
Nor helps They for Progressive Motion need.
Yet Mysteries, deep hid, they cannot find,
Such as Exceed th' Intelligences Mind,
And render all created Beings Blind.
No more, vain Friend, your useless Knowledge show,
Lost in Abysses, that no bottom know:
Lapp'd up in Shades, where not one cheerfull Ray
Amid the dismal Darkness points out day.
I grant your Skill,—but how far doth it reach;
Or what import the Mysteries, you teach?
If solid Orbs cramp up the Heaven above,
Or if they Free i'th' fluid AEther move:
What unseen Spring to them doth Motion give?
Leave these to those, who in those Regions Live.
How the Sun's piercing fire and genial heat,
Doth Mettals under Massy Rocks beget:
What are the Marchasites, of which they'r made,
And changing Salts, in the Composure laid:
How Heat Course Mettals into Gold refines,
(The Art for which the broyling Chymist pines)
Leave this (if such there be) to Daemons of the Mines.
[Page 88]How
Orient Pearls from Heavenly Dew are bred,
And, by what They at first were made, are fed.
The Wonders that in Neptune's Storehouse be,
The ragged Sea-calves better know, than We.
Thou think'st to search all with thy narrow Mind;
The Grasp's too wide for what is so confin'd.
Be Man: And if thou can'st, Inform me how
This Tree, this Flower, this Spire of Grass doth grow:
Why the same Moisture different Shapes doth wear;
Why this doth Green, why this doth Red appear;
Why this doth Fruit, this Flowers, this Herbage bear:
How each a seminal Vertue doth retain,
And thô not conscious, gets his Like again:
Whose Plastick Vertue can new Being give,
From whom new Birth, when Dead, they can receive,
And even burnt Flowers can from their Ashes live.
How doth the Imp, when with the Stock 'tis knit,
The Stock's rough Juice to its own Nature fit,
And in the twisted Knot doth sweeten it?
Or Buds of generous Fruits in Wild ones set
A precious off-spring from base Plants beget?
Our Knowledge by the Sence's help we find,
'Tis those deceitful Guides inform our Mind.
If then the Medium's false, thrô which Arts go,
How can we hope the genuine Truth to know?
The Water pure and clear i'th' Fountain flows;
But with ill Mixtures doth its Nature lose;
And tafts of every Soil, thrô which it goes.
We from our Sences upon trust Receive,
And Them, althô they oft delude, believe.
But Truth and Skill must Disputable grow;
If no account we of our Sences know.
If hidden Secrets in their Nature lie,
That all our diligent Enquiries flie,
[Page 89]If we their Nature strive to search in vain,
What then's the Learning, that by them we gain?
That we do Hear and See, we all do grant,
But of the manner how, are Ignorant.
If then in things within us we may err,
With which each Moment we're familiar:
What hope remains, that we the Truth should find
Of things without, by our deluded Mind?
The Sense deceivs us, and like Painted Glass
Tinges all Objects, that do thrô it pass.
All Sense is made by Contact, You allow:
Contact from unseen Particles doth grow,
Which from all Objects to the Senses flow.
If they'r Material, whence do they arise?
What is't their Energy and Force supplies?
Whether they always in the Air do rove,
And wait Impulses, by whole Laws they move?
Or, when they'r wanted, by the Object made,
And thence with Message to the Sense convey'd?
If these their Subtlety to Motion owe,
Fragments, that from attrited Matter grow,
How happ's it, Time hath not worn all things so?
And why may not succeeding Ages fear,
That Length of Time the Universe should wear,
Till nothing Solid in the World appear?
The Senses various Particles employ;
What strikes the Ear, doth not affect the Eye;
And where the Ear is deaf, and Eye is blind,
The subtle Smell can a Sensation find.
The Atoms different, as the Organs are,
And various Forms, various Contextures wear
Besides the different Motions they dispence
From diverse Objects unto every Sense:
[Page 90]By which they to the Judging Soul do show,
Whether they Acceptable are or no.
The Eye doth Knowledge of each Colour take,
That various Motions doth i'th' Organ make;
In such Variety, such Cost and Dress,
Not all the Flowers of Rhetorick can express.
But whether What do these Impulses give
Their Power from Angulous Particles receive;
Or barely they This unto Motion owe;
A Secret lies we vainly with to know.
Since then Effluviums from all Objects break,
And thrô the Air their unseen Journeys take,
To every Sense in various Measures come;
How is it that the crowding Troops find room?
Numberless Numbers to each Sense repair,
That various Motions, Forms, and Garbs do wear;
Enough to stifle up the liquid Air.
The justling Streams, always in Motions be,
To all around without Distinction fly.
And from all parts of Matter since they flow,
And heady Journeys in cross Paths do go:
Who in their Passage doth prescribe them Laws?
Or guards them, that they no Confusion cause?
Why do not Storms disperse the Rays of Light,
Why not obstruct their Journey to our fight?
Or those bright Rays, that in clear Days arise,
And from ten thousand Objects cheer our Eyes,
Hinder the Motion of progressive Noise?
In the same Moment from all parts they flow,
Contrary Courses in their Journeys go;
At the same time all Senses gratifie,
Yet we no Battle, nor Confusion spy.
'Tis true they'r Subtle; But they Numerous are:
They'r liquid: Yet the thwarting troops may jarr;
For waves meet waves, & streams with streams do war.
[Page 91]A Guardian
Angel must be their Defence,
Or we must grant, that Atoms have a Sense.
No humane Force their Fury can restrain;
No giddy Chance their Motion can maintain;
No Mechanism their Nature can unfold;
No Laws, nor Rules in Sage's Books enrold.
Nature the Eye in beauteous Orbs hath dress'd,
Laid out more Work on't, than on all the rest;
'Tis her much valued Gem, that doth excell
The Treasure, Mines, or Sands, or Seas reveal:
Whose wise Contexture may deep Wits employ,
And hath made Atheists own a Deity.
Man is a Microcosm [...]; suppose him One,
The Eye is of that Little-World the Sun.
Heaven's first-born Light without this had been lost;
In vain had Nature then been at that Cost.
Yet how this Organ entertains the Light,
And how that wondrous Act is made, the Sight
Whether it Rays receives, or Rays sends-out,
Remains yet an inextricable Doubt.
If th' Eye by sending-forth of Rays doth see,
So great Expence what is it can supply?
How do the Streams make Journeys to the Sky?
For if our Sight we on Emission ground,
We must lend Rays to fill the World around;
These too to' each Object must adapted be
And Images bring back, by which we see.
In vain, what Life and Light doth give, the Sun
His annual and dayly Course doth run;
In vain his chearfull Beams doth send: If we
Can from our Selves the want of Rays supply.
If we do from our Selves send Beams of Light;
What is the Difference betwixt Day and Night?
This then's untenable— —
How flows the Poison from an Envious Eye?
How do his Opticks venemous Beams instill,
And Great Men in the height of Glory kill?
Whence hath the Basilisk his deadly Ray;
That can th' unwary Wretch at distance slay?
How is't, if Wolves first upon Men do look,
Men are with Hoarsness, or with Dumbness strook?
Whence are the Charms flow from a Beauteous Eye?
That do the strugling Slave in Fetters tie?
What Energy doth thrô his Vitals move;
What Magick Charm doth stirr him up to Love?
When Thoughts on winged Particles advance,
When piercing Looks the Lover's mutually entrance,
And their Souls on the fiery Atoms dance?
How is it Cats and Owls see in the Night,
When no Ray can illuminate the Sight.
Their Eyes in Darkness shine; why may not We
Inferr, that they by their own Beams do see?
This Object is a Central Point, from whence
Rays move around the whole Circumference:
To all about, where e're they'r plac'd, do flie;
In every station, do salute the Eye.
Th' adjoining Atom is a Center too,
From whence in equal streams the Rays do flow.
Ten thousand Objects entertain the Eye;
From each ten thousand thousand Beams do fly.
Since in straight Lines the Rays of Sight are led,
How are they truly to the Eye convey'd?
Why don't the Numbers in each way that rove,
The direct Course of steady Beams remove?
Why is no End unto their Motion put;
When they each other Infinitely cut?
But yet admit, they to the Eye arrive,
Who of their Nature can a Reason give!
[Page 93]Do they each Moment from the
Sun repair;
Or have they setled Mansions in the Air?
If One; they swifter far than Matter move,
Their Nature from their extract they improve,
And seem a Quintessence sent from above.
What Nourishment must the vast Fount supply;
From whence such Streams incessantly do fly,
And fill the Liquid Air and Spacious Sky?
If from the Sun the Beams of Light do flow,
How doth a Candle the same Office do?
How doth the Glow-worm with the Sun contest,
And Brandish forth her Beams, when He's at rest?
Why's Rotten Wood and Fishes Scales so Bright?
Why doth Sea-water Sparkle in the Night?
These Subtle Parts, if in the Air they lie,
How haps, i'th' dark that they escape our Eye?
And then in Shades of Night why don't We see?
If Colour's in the Superficies made,
And variously, as that reflects, is bred:
If what absorps the Light is Black; that White,
Which forcibly Reflects the Rays of Light;
And all the dresses, that the World can show,
Are the compounded Mixtures of these two:
Why should two Marble Stones of equal weight,
Polish'd alike, equally Smooth and Bright,
Two different Colours wear of Black and White?
The same Contexture, Form, and Parts they show:
From whence in them do different Colours grow?
Admit all Colours, to the Organ brought,
Are by Reflection of the Object wrought:
And Draughts and Schemes present Deform'd or Fair,
As they Impulses rude or pleasing bear:
From various Parts that various Colours grow,
And all do on the Superficies flow;
For under that the Sight doth nothing know:
[Page 94]Whether these Parts, so subtle and refin'd,
That carry the Ideas to the Mind,
Barely by contact do their Acts maintain;
Or do materially invade the Brain,
A pressing doubt doth yet unsolv'd remain.
If these Impulses to the Eye do give,
That thence doth an Account of things receive;
The Sense, that only did from Motion grow,
When Motion sinks and dies, must perish too.
How haps it then, Ideas stay behind,
And, when We please, can paint anew the Mind,
When what created them is fled, like Wind?
If th' Eye into't nothing Material drew,
How is't the Mind can former Objects view,
And dress i'th' Brain the wandring Schemes anew?
How haps, what did unto our Sight advance,
In Dreams again i'th' cheated Soul do dance,
And with fresh Charms the credulous Mind entrance?
Dreams that arise, as all the Learned own,
From confus'd Parts of Bodies seen or known.
If thrô the Eye the Vigorous Object darts
Into the Brain these small AErial Parts;
How are they entertain'd, when Crowds do come?
How do the little narrow Cells make room?
Do all, that to an Object do belong,
Into one Place unmixt with others throng?
If not: how are things past call'd back with ease?
How is, what's gone, remember'd, when We please,
Even Adjuncts and Particularities?
But if new Streams the former do expell,
How is't of so mer Days we acts can tell?
The various Turns of Years long-since repeat;
What We've seen acted, what We've read, relate.
If Old and New i'th Brain together crowd,
How is it Room and Peace is them allow'd?
[Page 95]How do they and their Equipages come?
For if Material, they must take up room.
And tract of Time would hoard up such a Crop,
The crowded Atoms would the Channels stop,
And choke the Passages of Vision up.
The Ear in winding Labyrinths is laid,
Fit to recieve and keep the Sound, is made:
But yet what Mind's so sharp, so deep, so strong.
To tell the Mysteries to this Sense belong?
What Garbs the fluid Atoms do array
When they our Thoughts to others do convey?
Whether the Atoms are of different size,
Or but from various Impulses rise?
When Soft and Melting Streams do flow from Love,
Or Stormy Accents do from Anger move?
Whence flow the Charms that do to Speech belong,
When Graces dance on a beloved Tongue!
Why the same Words from one should Love create,
And from another but ingender Hate?
Who can the Charms of Rhetorick express,
The Tunefull Motions and the Godlike Dress?
What Magick force the Captiv'd Ear doth ty,
When well plac'd Words from Artfull Lips do fly,
And calm or raise the Mind, as Storms the Sea?
How these Impulses, that to th' Ear do pass,
Such transports in the heightned Spirits cause?
The Ferment scarce will cool and sink again,
And Pleasure's more tumultuous, than Pain.
What Motions Speech must to the Ear convey,
Or in how many Forms the Atoms stray?
Since We can scarcely find two words alike,
But all must diversly the Organ strike.
Some no distinct Idea do create;
And Some are what We call Articulate.
[Page 96]The
Birds have one, the
Beasts another Tone,
And every Species hath a different one.
Beside from senseless things the various Noise,
That from Collision of their Parts doth rise:
What doth from Solids, what from Fluids flow,
What do from Winds, from Seas, and Thunder grow.
Whence are the Charms, that Musick doth dispence;
That lulls in pleasing Slumbers up the Sense?
When Raptures from the Numbers are compil'd,
Which render'd Alexander Fierce, or Mild:
Can quell the Lustfull or Revengefull Flame,
Can Bloody Rage and Savage Fury tame:
Can Conquer when all Arguments do fail,
When Reason's Ineffectual, can prevail:
Can Witchcraft's force and Poyson's fire asswage,
And, when all Medicines fail, Disease's Rage.
What Sorcery doth in these Numbers ly,
And what Enchantment from the Sounds doth fly?
The wondrous Art what Learning can explain,
That from mov'd Air doth all its Vertue gain,
And yet so Forcible and Strong, to call
The Senseless Stones to build Thebe's stately wall?
Enchanting Art! the Learn'd do own in Thee,
The next great Power unto the Deity.
By Musical Numbers, Heaven, they say, was made:
And by their help the Earth in Beauty laid.
Reason and Sense do from thy Concords fly,
For th' Human Soul it self's but Harmony.
Smelling, Thou subtle Sense, what th' Eye can't see,
Nor doth within the Sphear of Hearing lie;
What no Brisk Sallyes, no Impulses brings,
But silent lies hid in the Mass of things;
Thy secret Art can thrô all Mazes find,
Thô with confused Heaps of Parts combin'd.—
[Page 97]But how 'tis done, a Myst'ry yet remains
That Baffles all our curious Wit and Pains.
How is it the Sagacious Hound doth find
The unseen Parts, that mix with Air and Wind?
When with a trembling fear the Prey doth fly,
Employs his eager speed to' outstrip the Eye,
And hopes, that done, no farther Danger's nigh.
How is't, the Wind don't the Composure break,
And all the chain of Steames in pieces shake?
What doth those Parts from mixed Heaps extract,
And render the disjointed Parts exact?
How doth the Hound pursue, when no tract's shown,
And keep the steady Path, where no Guide's known?
Thô others of the Kind the footsteps tread,
The mixture cannot Him to Errour lead:
How are the Kindred Vapours severed?
How doth He follow what at first He trac'd,
And Hunt without distraction to the last;
And all the bragging Chymist's Art surpass,—
Who, when mix'd Mettals do compound one Mass,
In time, by Pains, and by the help of Fire,
Each Mettal can extract and render each entire.
How is't, the Vultur hath so quick a smell,
He can in distant Realms of Battels tell;
And Slaughters at three hundred Leagues reveal?
How do the Particles of Smell come whole,
That must so far o'r Seas and Mountains rowl?
Who gives them Knowledge to find out the Way?
How haps, they are not wilder'd, while they stray,
Or lost, when they must mix with those of Land, or Sea?
How is it, Pestilential Vapours fly?
Why fix on this, and why the next pass by?
How Poyson they in pleasing Odours breath,
And while We suck Delight, We draw in Death.
[Page 98]No Light of Sense or Reason can descry,
What Steames from Aromatick Bodies fly:
When different Bodies different Odours cast,
And these Effluvium's are unlike the last.
How is it Gums such Streams of sweet diffuse;
And yet in Bulk or Weight do nothing loose?
Thô many Ages they to last are found,
With Odorous Parts incessantly abound,
Impregnate all the Sphear of Air around.
Yet for so great Expence, no great Decrease,
Nor do they grow proportionably less.
Now if these Atoms are Material, why,
Since they the small parts of the Compound be,
Doth not the Whole at length by parcels die?
Do they a secret unknown Vertue bear;
To change into their Kind the Ambient Air:
As all, Fire meets, doth his fierce Nature wear?
As Load-stones in the Iron their Vertue leave;
For what they touch, to Iron again will cleave?
Or do the Odours, that they thus disclose,
When they have circled round, i'th' Drugs repose?
In their first Parent loose themselves again,
And so their Odour, Bulk, and Weight maintain?
As Tapers in fast-closed Urnes are found,—
(Whose Circling Rays do move for ever round)
To feed on Unctuous Fumes, they from them cast;
Supply themselves, and so can never wast.
I pass the Doubts, that ly i'th' Sense of Tast:
And those as great, that are in Feeling plac'd.
For wheresoe'r We look's an unknown Coast,
Our Mind perplex'd in endless Storms is tost;
And in th' Abyss all Wit and Learning lost.
There may more Senses be, that yet We want,
Whole Absence renders Us so Ignorant.
[Page 99]We known't, how high
Angelick Sense doth rise,
Nor what th' Intelligences makes so wise.
We wondrous Acts done by the Creatures see,
Nor can We tell, but they new Senses be.
What makes the Cock at his due Seasons crow,
And Time of Midnight so exactly know?
How doth the Haleyon future Calmes presage,
And how Sea fowl approaching Tempest's Rage?
When they to Isles retire, and Seamen show
(Their Hate and Terrour) Storms before they blow.
Why Palms do flourish, when to Palms they'r nigh;
And when they'r parted, or decay, or die?
How doth the Needle his dear North pursue,
What Sense doth learn him to be ever true?
Why doth the Magnet his Course Iron enfold,
Nor can be Brib'd by what's more Precious, Gold?
The Subjects that for Sympathy are fam'd,
And what by Us Antipathies are nam'd,
May different Senses be; and so may those,
Whose Nature all our Learning can't disclose;
That do above our Ignorant darkness rise,
Lost in the name of Occult-Qualities,
Th' Asylum of the Slothfull or Unwise.
Boast of thy Mechanism, vain Friend, no more;
Nor think these Depths by Reason to explore.
Fix on what Part Thou wilt in all the Round,
Questions arise, thy Wisdom will confound.
What may Opinions try, no Standard's known,
Where Genuine Truth from falshood may be shown;
But gloomy Mists over the Mind do rowl,
And Prejudice doth prepossess the Soul.
All here we know's but Probability,
The Utmost Bound, to which our Wit can fly,
And that which Terminates Philosophy.
[Page 100] One Starts a
Wit; the Schools his Schemes allow;
Untill Another Specious grounds doth show,
And doth the long-built Fabrick overthrow.
All strive for Empire, both in State and Wit,
He's Victor, unto whom the rest submit.
But here's the Fate of Both, Both slippery stand,
And yield to th' next Intruder their Command.
How wretched 'tis to trust on Chance, that's blind!
It brings no Comfort to the doubtfull Mind.
The Human Soul can't rest on such a Guide,
Nor's with unthinking Matter satisfied.
No Truth from Principles so weak can flow,
The more We search, the Darker still We grow.
Doubts after Doubts arise, and when one's done,
New Crowding Numbers hastning hurry on.
And what appear'd a Trifle to our Mind,
At nearer insight We a Mystery find.
So Countries seem to Seamen from the shore
But small; yet when they farther do explore,
They find with stretch'd-out Arms the widened Coast;
Till the bold Eye is in the Prospect lost.
A Wise, Just, Being over all presides,
The turns of Stupid Thoughtless Matter guides;
Whose boundless Wisdom knows to govern all
The Startling Wonders of this changing Ball.
In Him Man's Happy and his Soul at rest;
Doubts are husht up and Peace becalms the breast.
Courage on his Alliance doth depend;
In Him our anxious Fears and Terrours end.
"We in the Deity alone can rest,
"And in that Acquiescence must be blest.