POEMS ON His Majesties BIRTH and RESTAURATION, His Highness Prince Rupert's And His Grace the Duke of Albemarles NAVAL VICTORIES; The late Great PESTILENCE and FIRE of LONDON.
By ABRAHAM MARKLAND.
LONDON: Printed by JAMES COTTEREL. 1667.
UPON THE ANNIVERSARY OF His Majesties BIRTH and RESTAURATION, May 29. (1667.)
1.
HAve we forgot to pay this Month its due?
And is our Soveraign gone as soon as come?
Can his Return (like Him) be Banish'd too
Such Kings, as CHARLES, are always coming home.
2.
O let Him be Returning all the Year!
And every Morn the Twenty ninth of May!
The Sun, though old, yet shines as fresh and clear
As first he did on the Creation-day.
3.
Permit then, Mighty CHARLES, the Sacred Nine
To sing Your Restauration, and their own:
Let them their Bays about Your Temples twine,
And to Your Golden add a Laurel Crown.
4.
When Hercules was got, three Nights in one
(Another Cerberus) together grew;
But we so black a Night have undergone,
That brought more Monsters forth than e're he slew.
5.
Say, British Souls! how were ye grown so vile
To give that monstrous Tyrant your esteem?
So those who dwell upon the Banks of Nile,
Ador'd the Crocodile that devour'd them.
6.
Thought ye him Valiant, or believ'd him Wise?
No, 'twas the Throne that made him so appear:
A sordid vapor got into the Skies
Is easily mistaken for a Star.
7.
Art thou that Tyrant to the Bar hast brought
So pious, just, and merciful a Prince?
That didst Condemn Him because thou couldst not?
Because He guilty was of Innocence?
8.
A Prince as Good as ever thou wert Bad;
(But Arrows always at the White are driven)
Thou didst not CHARLES, but Piety behead:
Who cuts off Atlas head does pull down Heaven.
9.
Dull Fool! thou dost but lift him to the Skies,
And He stands Taller too without a Head:
His value, being lost, the more we prize;
As people stretch out Longer when they're Dead.
10.
Such innocent Blood might Damn and Save thee too.
Yet were we certain by the Moan we made,
That CHARLES in heav'n was happy; for we know
How high the Sun is risen, by our Shade.
11.
But as when proud Typhaeus did denounce
A bold defiance to the Godds above;
Threw Trees like Arrows, and huge Rocks like Stones;
Himself a greater Thunderer than Jove.
12.
When tearing up an Oak; Thus, thus, cry'd He,
From his high Seat I'll tear the Tyrant too;
With his own Oak I'll kill him; and the Tree
Which once was Sacred, shall be Cursed now.
13.
The Godds, like falling Starrs, came rowling down:
With pride the Conqueror began to swell:
When straightway under Aetna he is thrown;
And stead of Heaven, is possess'd of Hell.
14.
So fell our great Usurper in his pride,
When high exalted in the Royal Throne;
VVhich (like the VVhirlwind on the day he dy'd)
Lifted him up, only to hurl him down.
15.
To that eternal Aetna down he went;
VVhere laughing; cry'd, So, so, 'tis wondrous well!
The murther'd Father unto Heav'n I sent;
The Son has Sea and Land, and I have Hell.
16.
Then boast not Lucifer, poor Rebel thou!
For by my self, my mighty self I swear,
If thou but offer to resist me now;
I'll Banish thee, and be Protector here.
17.
VVhat, though against thy Prince thou drew'st thy Sword?
For this poor Act was Hell confer'd on thee?
Though thou gave Battail to th' Almighty Lord,
Thou never could Depose thy King, like Me.
18.
Straight Lucifer descends his flaming Throne,
Resigns his place to One it more was due:
Thrice did he howl with such a dreadful groan,
Made all the Devils quake, and himself too.
19.
Long had Great CHARLES been toss'd by Land and Seas,
Finds Scepters as inconstant as the Wind:
And doth himself with Contemplation please;
Beholds a Kingdom in his larger Mind.
20.
So e're the Chaos was at first begun,
The great Creator did its Image view;
The Monarch of the World sat all alone,
And was himself both King and Kingdom too.
21.
Yet to his Country CHARLES retain'd his love,
And though an Exile, still in England was:
Thus in a constant round the Heavens move,
Yet ne'r Excentrick from their former place.
22.
CHARLES all this while preserv'd his Royal State,
And was as Great a King without a Crown:
He's a true Prince can trample on his Fate;
And be a King too, even when he's none.
23.
So doth the mighty Parthian Monarch dwell,
And all the Pomp of other Courts deride;
Scorning a Palace, he Preferrs a Cell;
And shews at once Humility and Pride.
24.
You little number of that Exil'd train,
(And yet far more than all that never went)
That daily could behold our Soveraign,
How happy were you in your banishment!
25.
For his Attendants many more had gon,
But hop'd, though absent, they might serve him here.
A thousand Starrs attend upon the Sun,
Although his bright Retinue disappear.
26.
Then did ill Fortune, that obscur'd our Prince,
Declare the virtues of His Royal youth:
As Sacred Oracles in Mystick sence
At once both Cover and Reveal the Truth.
27.
Why brags the Spaniard, he beholds the Sun
In his own Empire both to Rise and Set?
So could the Cynick in his Wooden Throne,
And thought the Empire of his Tub as great.
28.
But CHARLES would rather in contenment sit,
Whilst above Crowns his soaring Thoughts do move:
Like to that part of Heav'n against our feet,
Which seems below the Earth, but is above.
29.
To thrice ten years our Monarch did arrive;
The Godds beheld him with relenting Eyes;
And now kind Heav'n thought fit he should revive:
VVhen Alexander fell, Great CHARLES did rise.
30.
Then did the Spring in gawdy pomp appear,
VVhich all the VVinter had in Exile been;
The Trees new Garlands round their Temples wear,
As joyful to be Crown'd, with CHARLES agen.
31.
Those Choristers that heard the Thracian sing,
And o're his Head with joy and envy flew;
Now chirp their pretty welcomes to their King,
And are themselves the Birds and Orpheus too.
32.
The young Trees dance as nimbly as the VVind:
And aged Oaks, with one foot in their Graves,
Come after slowly Limping on behind,
VVhilst their own Trunks become their native Staves.
33.
How would that Royal Tree, which lent its aid
To your conveyance from our English Shoar;
To save you once again, your Barge be made!
And gladly turn each Branch into an Oar.
34.
Lo, in what glorious pomp the Sea-gods pass!
Into two Ranks on either hand they brake;
On their reflected Images they gaze;
And stand Admiring at the shew they Make.
35.
Then let Tigranes boast in all his pride,
That Kings, as Foot-men, by his Coach have gon:
The Godds attend our CHARLES, and on each side
Like Lacquies by his watry Chariot run.
36.
Those lovely Nymphs that from the Thunderer flew,
And gentle Rivers and sweet Springs became;
Wish, they from Springs could turn to Virgins now;
And in the Waters meet a hotter Flame.
37.
Hopes the Venetian Duke to wed the Main,
And to espouse bright Cynthia? whilst a War
Against the Turkish Moon he doth maintain?
And so at once both Woo's and Threatens her.
38.
While thus he Courts, he doth a Xerxes seem,
And his gold Ring is to a Fetter grown:
Thessalian Exorcists do Court like him,
When with their charms they woo her from her Throne.
39.
CHARLES is her Lord; whom cruel Fates compel
Daily to suffer changes, more than She:
CHARLES could not his misfortunes want; as well
Her glorious Body without spots might be.
40.
Thus doth our Monarch triumph o're the deep,
Whilst all the Godds Fann him a gentle gale;
And round about him wait; as though his Ship
The Argo were, and he in Heav'n did Sail.
41.
That Star which shone the Twenty ninth of May,
Again attends him at his second Birth;
Thus whilst, Leander-like he cuts the Sea,
Heav'n, like kind Hero, holds a Taper forth.
42.
The day of his Return and Birth the same!
Bless me ye Godds! who are not Poets now?
When there is height of Fancy in the Theam,
When Godds do Jest, and Heav'n is Witty too.
43.
Who are not Poets at such happy times,
Nor Raptures can invent for CHARLES his sake;
May they be Poets the wrong way; and Rymes
At the Beginning of their Verses make.
44.
When as the Theam's a Miracle, the Wit
On such a Miracle should be one too:
Like that, it should both Torture and Delight,
And even please us, 'cause it doth Not so.
45.
Let not dull Souls in humble strains appear;
And think that nothing can be Clear and High:
The soaring Lark more easie cuts the Air,
And Smoother, as he doth more Lofty fly.
46.
Then tell me, Muse, how on the happy day
Of CHARLES his Birth, a glorious Star at noon
Did to the world his bolder Beams display;
And, like an Eagle, Gaz'd upon the Sun.
47.
Speak of his Exile, wond'rous as his Birth;
In Forraign Realms no less a King than Here:
So Skies afar off seem to touch the Earth,
Yet are as High as over-head they were.
48.
But now, dear Muse, his Restauration sing;
To joyful welcomes let thy Lyre accord;
'Tis not more pleasant to resound our King
Was this day Born, than that he was Restor'd.
49.
So when in Groves a Banish'd Virgin tryes
VVith her melodious voice to ease her wrong,
Still the Return more sweetly doth surprize,
And th' Eccho's more delightful than the Song.
50.
Nor let the Vulgar count Kings Births like theirs;
Kings then are Born, when they begin to Raign;
Thus CHARLES his Life begins at thirty years;
Like our first Parent, he is Born a Man.
51.
Through those white Rocks, which do our coasts adorn,
Our Monarch sails, and now on Shoar is driven:
For when the wandring Godds from Earth return,
Still o're the Galaxy they pass to Heaven.
52.
Let other Princes boast their cruel might,
VVhat foes they slew, what towns by war they took:
CHARLES can o'recome three Kingdoms, and ne'r fight;
Like beauteous Queens, he Conquers with a Look.
53.
Three joyful Realms he leads along enchain'd:
Thus we of old in the same Charior see
A Captive with a glorious Victor joyn'd,
The Captive Triumphs too as well as he.
54.
How the glad Nations do their Conquer or meet,
Embrace their thraldom, and their Fetters kiss!
So lies a Lover at his Mistress feet,
And thinks his Slavery his greatest Bliss.
55.
Hark how the Cannon roar, whilst every blow
Mounts to the Skie, and cuts the trembling Air;
Heav'n it self eccho's with the noise, as though
Another CHARLES too were Returning There.
56.
So when the Priests of Bacchus found their God,
With the shrill Trumpet and the winding Horn;
VVith sounding Instruments they play aloud;
Loud, as the Thunder wherein he was Born.
57.
But ah, who's That from the cold Climate comes!
VVhat, Loyal MONK from farthest Scotland? so
[...]earls spring from Rocks; so Odours and Perfumes
Do in the wilde Arabian Deserts grow.
58.
That gallant Satyrist would curse his VVit,
And hate it like bad Verses, did he know it;
Against himself he would a Satyr write;
And turn his Rebel-Scot to Rebel-Poet.
59.
MONK saves them all, with sweet and gentle charms
Redeems the Nation from eternal night:
Thus what Alcides did with Toil and Arms,
Sweet Orpheus eas'ly did, and with Delight.
60.
Not with his Sword but Harp he Hell controul'd;
'Twas that made Trees and Rocks come dancing thus:
The glad Aeolian Stone o're mountains roll'd,
And was it self both Stone and Sisyphus.
61.
How MONK betray'd Scotch-English, English-Scots
Into their Loyalty! how did he shrowd
From both their Generals his warlike Plots!
Both close and strong, like Thunder in a Cloud.
62.
MONK to each Land doth their lost Honor bring;
At once pretends to Loose and Wins the game:
He to both Realms Delivers up their King,
And raises his chief Glory from their Shame.
63.
See where with Mighty CHARLES He comes along;
VVhilst full-throng'd Streets upon the Houses grow:
So in green Tapestry are Buildings hung,
It seems a VVilderness and City too.
64.
The English Youth appear'd in Armor bright,
Their sparkling Swords they Brandish'd in the Skie;
Vow'd to defend their CHARLES; and in His right
All Others and Themselves they did Defie.
65.
Hark, how the Bells proclaim their joy! and tell
This day's glad Triumph with their Artful breath:
The Spheres too dance; and every Golden Bell
A glorious Angel for its Ringer hath.
66.
Now night approach'd; and all the Starry Plain,
Like the glad City, did with Bonfires throng:
But ah, dear Heav'n! little thought London then
It self should be a Bonfire too e're long.
67.
Such are the fatal Ruins all about,
The dismal alteration is so great;
That viewing it, Great CHARLES Himself might doubt
VVhether or no He were Returned yet.
68.
Stop, stop, poor Muse! the Fire will crack thy strings,
And the Still-raging Flame will burst thy Lute:
Not all thy Fountains, nor Castalian Springs,
Can quench this Fire, although Already Out.
69.
Poets with Verse, as Fluent as her Thames;
With Stanzaes, as Her self, Majestick too;
In vain Deplore; unless with mighty Rymes
They could, Amphion- like, Rebuild her New.
70.
So when the Phoenix dyes, the Birds do meet;
And while She's lying in her spicy urn,
The Winged Poets round about her Sit,
And dolefully both Sing, and see her Burn.
71.
Thus fell that City, which did Fleets defie,
Nor could by bloody Civil VVars expire:
So Porsia when She saw she could not Dye
By Sword or Flood, dispatch'd her self by Fire.
72.
Ah, London! how shall we thy fate deplore?
England's Metropolis, and Europe's too!
Behold, O Heav'ns! our mighty King Before,
Our very Kingdom is Beheaded Now.
73.
What wealthy Sums and Subsides were lost!
Which as a tribute for the Hearths were pay'd:
Strange! Chimnies should be Ruin'd, when almost
The City's nothing but a Chimney made.
74.
How in a moment the devouring flame
Flew o're the Streets, like Lightning through the Skies.
Those Poets err who fancy Vulcan Lame;
Swift, as his little winged Son he Flies.
75.
London was risen to that Greatness now
That, like the Fire, she did Her self Devour:
So mighty Empires when too large they grow,
Fall by their strength, O'recome by their Own Power.
76.
VVaste lye her Structures and her Stately VVall;
O're which, like Babylon's, the Chariots ride;
As Famous in her Ruin and her Fall,
As was that glorious City in its Pride.
77.
The Silver Thames fair London so adorns,
That one might think 'twere Paradise Restor'd:
But now in such a dreadful light she burns,
That Paradise it self's the Flaming Sword.
78.
Thus the Dead Queen with Lamps about her lies,
And hangs the City round in mourning Clouds;
Mounting her waving Flames into the Skies,
Seems both to Threaten and Implore the Godds.
79.
Bless me! ah, what do I behold? who's That!
Can a King Weep? are Tears for such as Him?
How Sorrow robs Him of his Royal State!
All things Uneven in the Water seem.
80.
Thou Miracle of Kings! whose pious Tears
Adorn thy Crown more than its Jewels do:
Lo ev'n in Weeping He Supream appears,
As though He'd be a King in Sorrow too.
81.
How from His eyes the pretious drops do fall!
(So Jove appear'd, when turn'd a Golden Rain:)
The Sun will draw His Tears up, turn them all
To Falling Stars, and weep them o're Again.
82.
How great, how glorious, and how lovely shone
Our Monarch Kneeling unto heav'n in tears!
Humility Exalts him: For the Sun
As he is Lower, Greater he appears.
83.
Now call'd He on His God; and unto Him
His humble Soul in Silent Whispers rear'd;
Like the harmonious Sphaeres, which men esteem
The Sweetest Musick, though 'twas never Hear'd.
84.
Then rising up, thus He began to mourn:
Was this your Goodness, this your Kind intent?
O cruel Heavens! And could not I Return,
Unless my Kingdom suffer'd Banishment?
85.
But 'tis not you alone these judgements bring;
There's Treason too: And dare those Rebels still
Provoke the wrath of an Incensed King?
Who with my Touch, as well as Cure, can Kill.
86.
Were I but certain that this flame proceeds
From French design; by my severe commands
Home should they go; and carry their own Heads,
Just like their Great St. Dennis, in their Hands.
87.
In vain their Innocency they avouch;
So Snowie AEtna's cover'd o're with VVhite,
Yet Fire's Beneath: no marveil they so much.
In Ashes and in Reliques take delight.
88.
Still we will Rise, ev'n whilst we are Deprest;
To Heav'n, which beat us Down, we will Ascend:
That gallant Valor born in English breasts,
Like Fire it self, doth always Upwards Tend.
89.
Thus spoke Great CHARLES: the joyful people bow,
VVhom with a warmer Flame he doth inspire;
Their City they almost forgot; as though
CHARLES, like the Sun, too could Extinguish Fire.
90.
Close by our King the Valiant YORK we See;
(For the Next Star to Jupiter is Mars.)
Fly foolish Vulcan! or He'll Fetter Thee,
As thou His Brother once, the God of VVarrs.
91.
Thy Chains are Smooth and Tender as the Curls
Of the fair Goddess fetter'd in the Snare;
Soft are the Links which He about them hurls,
Soft as the Golden Beams, Betray'd them, are.
92.
YORK for Chain-Bullets and his Guns doth call;
Th'insulting foe, cries He, shall soon retire;
VVith one blow will I make the Victor fall;
VVith Flames I'll Quench it, and Burn out the Fire.
93.
Straight He commands a skilful Souldier by
To lay a Barrel to some building's prop:
Then Smiling, cries, as He beholds it fly;
Just so, my Friends, I blew Great Opdam Up.
94.
Lo, a Dutch East-wind doth its aid afford!
Stay, Traytor, Stay! ah, whither dost thou blow?
Cannot my Word Repel thee? then my Sword
Shall Beat thee back again upon the foe.
95.
Ah London! must I see thee thus expire,
When all the Ocean's subject unto Me?
So Neptune once beheld His Troy on fire,
Yet could not Quench the flame with all His Sea.
96.
Great YORK no longer can abstain from tears;
His Pity now his Courage overcame:
He well deserves the Title which He bears,
When (like a Rose) He Weeps before the Flame.
97.
Now the proud soe grew bolder; then he shakes
His Scarlet Streamers, and to battail flew;
Converting all things into Flame, and makes
Himself the Victor and the Trophy too.
98.
He marches forward, nor the Tower fears;
With her own Arms he'll vanquish her; and waste
The spoils and glories of a Thousand years;
And Conquer Battails many Ages past.
99.
Loud as her Cannon did her Lyons roar;
But then her Guardian rose, and stopt the stream:
Th'affrighted foe stood trembling, and fear'd more
The brave Lieutenant, than the Lyons Him.
100.
Back to the Royal Burse in rage he flings,
And threatning to repair his honor; vents
His fury on the Statues of our Kings;
No more their Statues, but their Monuments.
101.
So when of old the Capitol was fir'd,
The Marble Godds too with their Temple burn'd:
Vulcan himself in his Own Flames expir'd;
And Jove a Scorched Thunder-bolt was turn'd.
102.
This that Exchange, where wealthly Merchants meet
To visit Forreign Countries; and with ease
Travail o're all the World, as though they sate
In their own Ships and Sailed o're the Seas.
103.
Enough, thou cruel Conqueror, return [...]
A [...] our Great Cathedrall what, wilt thou
VVith wicked pride Diana's Temple burn?
Be both Herostratus and the Fire too?
104.
Lo now the Church shines in as great a Light
As once from heav'n on the Apostle came:
St. Peter's Abbey trembled at the sight,
And (like Himself) was VVarm'd against the Flame.
105.
By this time all assistance was in vain;
The very Temples become Victims too;
Cities are Martyrs turn'd, as well as Men;
And Tombs and Graves themselves are Buried now.
106.
So you, Fam'd Pyramids, whom Kings did build
To be Their Tombs, shall be your Own e're long:
The Mausolaeum unto fate shall yeild,
And Vanish into th' Air, in which it Hung.
107.
Alas, we need no Brazen Pillar raise;
Strangers shall come from ev'ry forraign land,
Themselves to Monumental Pillars gaze,
And the Spectators shall the Statues stand.
108.
Thus the fair Queen doth in her ashes grieve;
Her Dwellings now her Sepulchre are made:
So Cleopatra built her Tomb alive,
And Dwelt i'th' Monument where she lay Dead.
109.
Then, London, let some Pindar raise thee thence;
Flames cannot harm thee, wert thou once built Thus:
Though Fire again (like the Pellaean Prince)
Sack'd the whole Town, 'twould spare the Poet's-house.
To the two Most ILLUSTRIOUS & INVINCIBLE His HIGHNESS PRINCE RUPERT, And his GRACE The Duke of ALBEMARLE Upon their Victories against the Dutch.
I.
WHen our great Poets your Return had roar'd,
As though they would your Ship with Verses Board;
VVhen they such whole Broad-sides let fly,
So that they seem'd to be
Like Royal Soveraigns of Poetry:
Then I presum'd I might, Great Sirs, like you,
Send out my little Fanfan too:
VVhen for a Helicon I have all the Sea;
And every Rock will a Parnassus be.
Nay, and my Fanfan here doth nothing vary
From Yours (which almost had De Ruyter sunk;)
For This doth also but Two Great Guns carry,
The Thundring RƲPERT and the Dreadful MONK.
II.
Lo! yonder both the Navies come;
Whilst Neptune, but Rere-admiral of the Sea,
Drives all the trembling Nymphs away,
And with his Trident makes more room:
The golden Ships make such a glorious Sight,
You'd think it were a Triumph, not a Fight:
And yet they look so brave and stout, as though
Both Sides would overthrow.
See where the Belgick Navy doth appear,
VVith a Hoghen Moghen French-man there,
And then a Mounsieur Myn Heer!
Never was such a Medley seen till now,
The French-men are Themselves the Quelk-chose too:
Ye Bedlam Dutch, were ye stark mad
To call such Leachers to your aid?
They'll not be your Protectors but your VVives,
They will not Save but Get you Lives.
On what Disgrace and Shame you run?
No marveil your Fleet came in a Horned Moon.
VVhat? did you think That Form might lucky be,
Because the Moon is Mistress of the Sea?
Hence Dutch! our Fleet's in view, whose very Sight
Is able to o'recome without a Fight.
The English Youth their Arms so took,
And to their Ships so speedily did hye,
As though Themselves, like Ships, with Sails did fly:
Their friends and homes they all forsook,
The Kingdom too (as once the King) doth lye within an Oak.
III.
Behold, the Royal Soveraign comes on!
It self a Fleet alone:
O how the Ocean's cover'd o're!
The Sea had many times before
Drown'd Men and Ships, but now
The Sea it self and Water's Drowned too:
Whilst Triton with the Load
Of RƲPERT-MONK upon his back grows proud;
And thinks that He hath got the odds
Of Atlas, for He onely bears
The Heavens and Stars,
But Triton bears the Gods.
The Sun admires to see his watry Bed
Blockt up with ships and covered;
And fears lest (like the Drunk Dutch Poet) he shou'd
Be forc'd to take up his Night's Lodging in a Wood.
IV.
Have ye, O Dutch, forgot the last years work,
And valiant deeds perform'd by Royal YORK!
Who when the Belgike Lyon He had slain
(Like Hercules) with the Spoils returned home again!
Come hither Dutch, and if thou want
Spirit or Courage, do but once
The mighty Name of YORK pronounce,
The mighty Name will make thee Valiant:
And yet be careful what you do,
The very Name will Beat thee too.
YORK! how I tremble at the word!
And now I wish I could a while
Lay aside this foolish Quill,
And VVrite (as He doth Conquer) with a Sword.
O that great day when on the Deck He stood,
Like a strong Tower upon an Elephant!
When an unhappy Shot did paint
His Blushing Cheeks in his Friends Blood;
Straight through the Enemy He tears,
As though He'd wash it off with Theirs:
And now the Blood of Thousand Belgike Souls
Swims in their brim-ful Ships, like Wooden Bowls:
But seeing Opdam's case is such
He cannot go without a Crutch,
Away He sends him in a Fiery Coach.
And yet there is no need,
'Cause the Besprinkled Duke escap'd the Fray,
To marke the joyful day in Red,
The Duke Himself's the Holy-day.
V.
But now they mad and desperate grow,
Hating both Us and Themselves too:
With shame of their late Overthrow again they rise,
And Valiant grow by Cowardize;
And yet this Second Conquest ours had been,
Had not then fell the brave couragious Mynn:
For, Valiant Captain, at the death of Thee
We Lost even when we Got the Victorie:
Thy Fall not Men alone
But Ships lament; each Sail
Not with wind, but Sighs doth swell;
And Cannon Shoot not off, but Groan.
The Fire-ship which Great CHARLES for love of Thee
Gave to thy Sea-men, He
Meant it thy Funeral-Pile should be.
Let not our Warlike Captain then
Be Buried like other men:
Let him not Dust and Ashes have,
Cast Gun-powder upon him in his Grave;
Throw not in rotten dead-mens Bones,
But Charged Guns;
Cover his Grave with Bullets, not with Stones;
Do what you will with other Dead;
Wrap Myun up in a Cannon, not in Lead.
VI.
Thou warlike Soul! ah whither dost thou go?
Dost thou thine Enemies still Persue?
And wilt thou Fight with them below?
And Kill ev'n their Ghosts too?
Where will the Dutch-men Fly? our Kings Great Brother
Hath driven them out of This World, and Mynn driver them out of Th' Other
Go mighty Spirit then; look all about
The Shades, and find the Fatal Spinsters out;
And when thou meet'st with any Dutch Threads there,
Cut them as fast as they our Tackle here.
But Mynn is gon! for whom 'tis not enough
To say, He's Dead; say rather, He's Shot off!
Those Holes which Bullets in his Flesh did tear,
Not VVounds, but Port-holes are.
Yet brag not Dutch! we (like good Gamesters) then
A little suffer'd you to win,
Only in hopes to make you Play agen.
Still for all this we bravely kept the Sea,
And who the Conquerors were, 'tis hard to tell;
So that your highly-boasted Victory
Seems (like your Erasmus) to hang 'twixt Heav'n and Hell.
VII.
Lo! the third time they're lanch'd into the deep;
But not to fight with us, but with our Sheep:
So once a mighty Army rais'd at Rome,
Conquer'd some Cockles, and Returned home.
But stay Dutch! not so fast! we'll have you know
There's Valour in our English Cattle too.
See where the pretty Sheep march to the field,
Brave Souldiers sure that with Buff-coats are Born:
The Ram their Captain is, whose Horn
May serve for Helmet, Spear, and Shield;
The Bell-weathers the Heralds are,
VVho not with Trumpets do denounce a VVar;
But, like brave Scythians, who (as story tells)
Sounded Alarums with their jingling Bells.
To fight for CHARLES, for such a Prince as He,
Each Lamb an angry VVolf will be;
The Ram, that even Dead can VValls o'rethrow,
VVhat will He do Alive, and for CHARLES too?
Thou gallant Ram come forward then,
And with thy Thunder-bolt upon thy Head
Strike thy proud enemies dead,
As though the Thundring Jove were hid within a Ram agen.
See where the Mutton-stealers run away;
Themselves as Timerous as their Prey:
And let them go! who at the best but seem
As much too Hard for Sheep, as VVe for Them.
VIII.
But now grown greedy of a fresh assault,
Without the Gallick Fleet they're come agen:
So that their very Navy seemed then
(Like its old Admiral) on one Leg to halt.
Their proud Fleet rides o're watry Hills and Dales;
Whilst they themselves swell bigger than their Sails.
But MONK doth all their brags despise;
MONK, whose each Word He breaths, a Tempest is.
The trembling Dutch already conquer'd seem;
Had rather hear our Cannon Speak, than Him.
Nor is brave MONK Alone; lo! there
With Him the Valiant Prince doth raign;
They Both do Share the Empire of the Main;
Thus always in the Sea Two Suns appear.
This is that dreadful RƲPERT, who
Makes th' Enemies tremble, and his Own Men too.
Alcides clad i'th Lyon's skin
Was but Without, RƲPERT's a Lyon Within.
But Muse, be silent! 'tis as hard a Theme
To Commend RƲPERT, as to Conquer him.
IX.
Come on, brave English then! But first let's sink
The Belgike Fleet in Drink.
We'll not alone their Navy over-flow,
But (like the Sea it self) their Country too.
We'll drink a Town
At each Go-down;
A City is but Two or Three;
And a full Glass shall a whole Province be.
Is the Hogshead out? Another of the same!
Come, come, let the Bung loose;
By opening This one Sluice
We'll Drown all Amsterdam.
And when that Ebb doth in our Drink begin,
As at Low Water in the Sea,
So Steeples then and Tops of Towns shall be
I'th' Bottom of our Glasses seen.
And yet our Foes too drink about;
Though should you see them, you would doubt,
Whether the Hog-head were, the Dutch-man, or the Bu [...]
They drink so deep, you'd almost swear
The Fisher-men themselves the Fishes were.
And though the Wine might the Gun's office do,
Split both their Swelling Corps and Brains asunder,
Yet doth our Cannon tear the Drunkards too;
Bacchus is Slain as well as Born in Thunder.
X.
See both the Navies now
Come on; and having with a Ball or two
At distance first Shook Hands, then to't they go:
The Sun is lost; and now 'tis Night:
The Sun (of old) to see a Fight
Stood still all day;
But whilst the dreadful English sought, He Ran away.
From cloudy smoak the Thunder breaks aloud,
And Jove (as well as Juno) too is Hid within a Cloud.
The very Heav'ns seem'd of the Noise afraid,
Which Brazen Guns and brazen Trumpets made:
A Noise, that would not call the Moon
From an Eclipse, but fright her into one.
The Sea with Smoak is cover'd so,
That even Venus too
Is Blind as well as Cupid now.
Such dismal Blackness all about; you'ld swear,
Hell (like the Devils) too were in the Air.
Now Mars Alone doth rule o're all,
Is of Both Navies the Sole Admiral:
He sits the Sov'raign of the Main,
And doth enjoy his Venus once again.
The angry Bullets meet and clash i'th' Air,
Fighting amongst themselves Another War.
Our Fleet receives their heaviest shocks;
Yet stands as strong, as do the Neighb'ring Rocks;
Firm, and unmov'd: as though
'Twere not a Floating Delos only, but a Fix'd one too.
XI.
The leaking Belgian Fleet with Water fills,
As though its Masters too it would out-drink:
They all are bor'd so full of Holes, you'ld think
The Fisher-men had turn'd their Ships to Weels.
But when their guns to pierce Our Ships begin,
VVe will not Stop the Holes with Beef, but ramm a Dutchman in.
And when our Bullets all are out,
VVe'll Dutch-men Shoot,
And Kill them with Themselves;
VVhilst they our furious rage to shun,
Shall fly for Harbour to the Shelves,
And to the Rocks for Death and Safety too shall run.
Behold, how thick into the sky
The mangled Limbs of Belgians fly;
That ev'n Agen
The Godds (as once of old) might Feast on Men.
Here doth a Ship down to the Bottom go;
No more a Ship, but Anchor now.
One flames a while, then into th' Air is blown,
And ev'n the Ship it self's a Gun.
A Burning ship sinks here,
VVhich under water shines so bright and clear,
You'd think the Sun were Setting there.
The Godds thought Giants were come again, who threw
Not only Trees at Heav'n, but whole VVoods too.
O're all the Ocean nought is seen
But Carcasses of Ships, and Shackled Hulls of Men.
The Sea is now one Crimson Flood,
And Mars's Laws (like Draco's) too are writ in Blood.
XII.
Scatter'd to Heav'n the burning Belgians flew;
Themselves the Chariots, and the Drivers too:
But down to Hotter Flames they fell;
Anti-Elijahs these, flew up to Hell.
Their Ships, which seem'd such floating VVhales to be,
Do not their Masters cast
Out of the Sea upon the Shore at last;
But from their wooden Shores do cast them in the Sea.
The French and Dutch together dy,
In VVater and in Blood Twice Drowned ly.
The Gallick Nation must its Arms disown;
Their Lilie's Bow-di'd, English Bloud-wort grown.
The Belgians shall no more their Lyon bear;
For now 'tis plainly seen,
That VVe the Lyons were,
And they but Asses in the Lyon's Skin.
Fly then, thou heavy Sottish Dutch-man! Thou
That (like thy Country) art a Quagmire too.
You that like huge Colosses strut;
That Tall in Thickness are, and High ev'n Round About:
That drink, until you do not only Stare
And Double See, but Double Are;
Yet are such Eaters too, that who'so seeth
Would swear (like Cadmus Men) you were Begot of Teeth.
Hence then! for RƲPERT, if you fly not soon,
Will make you (like his Dog) to Swallow Bullets down.
XIII.
Lo! now the Dutch no longer can withstand;
With trembling hast into their Ports they go,
Into their Dorps they fly; as though
The Sea-fight might be fought by Land.
Whilst the Thracian Poet sings,
Not only Birds, but Trees do Fly;
Their Leaves turn Feathers, and their Branches Wings;
Such was the Power of his Harmony,
That after him not Hares alone,
But ev'n their Burrows and their Foarms too Run.
Lo, RƲPERT now doth Wonders great as They:
Orpheus made Woods to Follow him, they say;
But RƲPERT with his Voice doth make them Fly away.
If that Salmoneus now did live and hear'd
Of Thee and Thy dread Fame:
His Brazen Bridge he would have spar'd,
And Thunder'd (Dreadful RƲPERT) with Thy Name.
So would Caligula at Thy Name's found
Not under Bed have hid himself, but under Ground:
Had he but RƲPERT hear'd, he would not run
To put his Laurel, but his Helmet on.
VVhilst other Captains sweat and labour, He
Doth Look a War, doth Breath a Fight, and Speak a Victory.
XIV.
VVas ever Prince so fam'd in VVars?
No marveil, his Country's Arms do bear a Mars;
Though surely rather He
Himself That Mars should be.
He stands amidst the thickest Shot,
And yet the Bullets touch him not:
Like the Hyrcanians who did use to set
Under the water in the Sea, and ne'r were VVet.
VVhy sure the Fates made a Decree
That RƲPERT, though he would, should never Drowned be:
Some Stars, we know, can never Set i'th' Sea.
How shall I, Gallant Prince, Thy glories sing?
Thou that art like Thy German Eagle too;
As that of old bore Arms for Jove, ev'n so
Thou art the Thunder-bearer to Great Britain's King.
XV.
And hail thou Valiant MONK! who writes on Thee,
As well as Poet, must a Souldier be.
Thou that didst lately with thy conqu'ring Hands
Lay Dutch-men on the Shore as thick as Sands.
When Charon, Admiral of the Seas below,
Cry'd out, Why MONK! I prithee, what dost do?
Dost think, that I have such great Ships as you?
Mine but a Fanfan is, you know.
Besides, these Dutch-men's Souls are Heavier far
Than Other Bodies are.
Should I take Many in Together, they
Would Sink, and go to Hell the Nearer way,
And so would cheat me of my Pay.
My Boat leaks so with Working; as I live
The Belides (I fear) anon will claim it for their Sieve.
And yet Our Duke some for himself doth spare,
And with the Grave the Booty share:
How many Captives wait upon Him home!
As though He meant to bring
The Dutch In also, as He did the KING.
Yet though in such Triumphant State He come,
Unmov'd He sits, neglects the pompous Shew,
And Triumphs o're his very Triumph too.
TO THE KING.XVI.
BUt You, Great Monarch, still did keep Your Throne;
Nor turn'd Your Scepter to a Gun;
Nor to an Helmet chang'd Your Crown:
You knew the Belgians were not worth
Your Arms, and therefore sent Your Agents forth.
So Jove of old, when He would make a Prey
Of the poor silly Phrygian Boy,
Himself sate still upon His Throne,
And sent his Winged Standard-bearer down.
To Fight with Foes let Mighty CHARLES disdain;
Let Him but only Think, and they are Slain:
Thus Pallas Goddess of War was begotten of JOVE's Brain.
Let other Kings go to the Warrs;
Thou may'st remain, Great CHARLES, at home, and thence.
Destroy (like Titan) with Thine Influence;
As though Thy Sword (like bright Orion's Sword) were made of Starrs.
Ah, Mighty CHARLES! that Twice our King hast been,
Both at Thy Fathers Death, and at Thy Coming in:
And may'st Thou long survive; and may
The Starrs showr Blessings on Thee every day,
Blessings as Numberless as They.
Thou, CHARLES, hast Travail'd almost Europe o're;
And mayst Thou with Thy Victories too Travail it once more.
Let Thy Conquest know no Bound;
But mayst Thou (like Thy Starry Wain) the Globe surround.
May all Thy Journies be as free
Through Sea and Land as through the Air to Thee,
And may the Poles Thy two Herculean Pillars be.
And since the Dutch no more Great CHARLES esteem,
He shall destroy them with those Arms, which once Preserved them.
So Phoebus, darting Rays, the Earth-born Python Shot;
And Slew him with the Beams, by which he was begot.
On the Great PLAGUE 1665. His Majestie Retiring to Oxford.
I.
ENgland so long enjoy'd her health and ease,
Our happiness grew Tedious, as if
We had been weary of our life,
Or Health it self were a Disease:
We now could bragge
A King Return'd without a War or Plague,
Which seem'd to be
Almost as Great a Miracle, as He.
How was our Prince amaz'd that day, to see
Such joyful throngs before Him run,
Like crouded Atomes sporting in the Sun!
The people were so healthful then,
Multiply'd so every where,
And in such mighty swarms appear,
That we almost began to fear a Plague of Living Men.
Scarce a Sick body there was known
Or in the Country, or the Town;
Diseases all were fled, as though
Ev'n the Diseases had been Cured too.
2.
Nor was this all, for we
As well as health had Victorie:
Our forreign Foes we did o'recome,
And Slew as fast abroad, as we Encreas'd at Home.
But now as on that wretched Town
The morning-Sun shin'd bright,
Shedding his gentler beams and milder light,
Where hotter fires did rain e're noon:
So on our Kingdom after all
Its happiness a Plague did fall;
By whose strange Burnings we enflamed are,
Almost as bad as they with fire and brimstone were.
Unto God's ears the crimes of England came;
Their Sins were Loud, as was their Fame.
Now having vanquished a Naval foe,
They Launch into the Sea Above, as though
With Valiant Sins they'd conquer Heaven too.
Heav'n did already see the Land forlorn,
And every Evening wept and every Morn.
At length our daring crimes were such,
Angels came flying down in armed trains,
Slew all they met; and with as little pains
Destroy'd and Conquer'd us, as We the Dutch.
3.
Michael, of old by the Almighty chose
Captain of his Life-guard, arose;
To heav'n's Artillery He streight retires,
Takes a bright Sword, and Scabbard bright as That:
The Sword was made of Comets deadly fires;
As Killing as the Flames it should anon Create.
From heav'n the glorious VVarrior withdrew,
Carrying an heaven with him as he flew:
A Mantle of a Cloud he made,
Which in It self he first did VVash;
Thus was the mighty Conqueror array'd,
And girded with a Rain-bow for a Shash.
The Body he assum'd, did show
So bright and glorious, as though
His Body were an Angel too.
On a high Steeple He came down,
And there did sit and thus did moan.
If thou, dear London, to thy God wouldst go,
VVith humble knee and trembling hand,
How glorious how securely mightst thou stand!
Ah would'st thou like this senceless Tower grow!
VVhich doth its Firmness in its Trembling show.
If thou, dear City, to thy God wouldst rise,
And like this lofty Spire, mount the Skies;
Like its Foundation, thou must lie as Low.
How happy, England, mightst thou be
Didst thou but Fear thy God as much as Other Nations Thee!
4.
Beloved Island! I thy griefs do grieve,
Die over all thy deaths, and feel the wounds I give.
Wouldst thou but seek to heav'n with holy Vows,
This sword that hangs o're Thee, I'd use
In thy Revenge against thy forraign Foes.
London repent! what shall my Flaming Sword
Destroy the Paradise which it should Guard?
The Plague already doth begin to rage,
Yet would thy tears its fury soon asswage:
As in the Pharian Land although
Never so much the Plague encrease,
Yet if Nile but overflow,
It instantly doth Cease.
In vain he spoke; for wicked men
Him and the present judgement both neglect;
A judgement, like the Air it did Infect,
Which always hangs before our Eyes yet never can be Seen.
5.
London, that stately Palace, is
A Desert grown:
When on the Israelites the Plague did seize,
It Found them in a wilderness,
Here it Makes one.
England was clear'd of Salvage beasts in vain,
They're all return'd again:
The People prove the Tyger, Wolf and Bear,
And mad distracted Men the wild Beasts are.
Our multitudes are grown
From almost infinite, to none:
Whilst we against our will do number those remain,
And fear another Plague again.
6.
The Birds do grieve to see us dye,
Though in our Deaths their safeties lye:
The Swan doth droop his head, and hang his wing;
And will not now His own, but our Death sing.
The mournful Sparrow grieves in's chirping rime
As sweet for us, as Lesbia once for Him.
The Philomel begins her song,
Now Thanks her Brother's cruelty and wrong,
VVhich made her Sing the More, by Cutting our her Tongue.
The greedy Crows could not forbear,
Devour'd the Corps and streight infected were,
And do within burn hotter far
Than Sol himself to whom they Sacred are.
The wretched Bird grew so enflam'd, as t [...]ough
The Sun again were hid within a Crow.
Should the infernal Vulture leave her cell,
And gnaw the scorching bowels of the Dead,
He'd surely think he fed
Not on Prometheus Liver, but on Hell.
The Eagle hates the Sun, and dares not now
Behold it, lest it should infect Him too:
VVith untry'd eyes he chuses to remain;
And will not by his Death, his Birth maintain,
7.
Into the Vallies are the Bodies thrown;
Vallies no more, Mountains of Dead-men grown.
Cattle do men devoure
As greedily as men did Them before.
The Country-man is made a Feast
To his own Beast;
And now alas
All men without a metaphor are Grass.
VVhen as the future Age shall Plow this ground,
And all these Carcasses be found,
They'll startle back with fear,
And think that Cadmus had been Sowing There.
So fought so fell those Sons of earth;
Sharp syths, instead of swords, they bore;
And at their very Birth
Just like the Serpent, whence they sprung, they did Themselves Devour.
8.
How falsely do old Poets speak, when they
Their Sun the God of Physick call?
VVhen lo we find by his own burning ray
He doth not Cure, but Murder all.
His scorching fires do pierce our hearts,
And his Beams wound us deeper than his Darts.
Let him no longer chide his Son
The rash and giddy Phaeton;
For now we see
Thoebus had Burnt the Earth, as well as He;
With his hot fire has scorcht us all,
And is a Phaeton without a Fall.
Prometheus, who rob'd Titan's Chariot-wheel,
Might now have had his fire, yet never Steal:
Such fire, with which he had not made a man,
But others and Himself had slain.
The glorious Starrs admire,
And trembling at the dreadful fight
Of the dead Corps, do loose their twinkilng light;
So wheresoe're
A Ghost doth scatter fear,
The Lamps and Candles Disappear.
9.
Mars looks upon the dead down from his sphaere,
Wonders what bloody Conqueror hath been there;
And angry is to See
Himself our-done in Cruelty.
The pale-fac'd Moon
Grew paler than the Ghosts she Lookt upon:
And though she's fixt in heav'n, she still doth fear;
And hardly thinks her self secure ev'n There.
Nay some men through their Optick-glass
Closely beholding her bright face,
When her black Spots they view,
They're tempted to believe that She's Infected too.
10.
Ah greedy Plague! must Britain be thy food?
And must thy thirst be quencht with English blood?
Unto the Dutch, base glutton fly!
Those fatter Corps will better feast thy Luxury;
Carry to them thy Carbuncles, they'll think
They're only the effects of their Thick Drink:
They'll ne're mistrust those Botches to be Thine,
But think they came from their own Brandy-VVine.
Then fly to France and rage in every Town,
There thou mayst kill, and ne're be Known;
Thy Flame on Them may safely seize,
They'll think it is Their own Disease:
Yet mighty Conquerour, make not here thy stay!
Cut through the Alpes though ne'r so tall,
And like Another Hannibal,
Melt with thy Flames those Snowy Hills away.
Then forward courteous Plague, and fly
To remote Sicily;
They when they feel thy flames will fear
Another Burning Aetna's near,
Nay, and the very People there
VVill no less flames in their own Bosoms bear,
But being burnt by Thee,
The Men themselves will Aetnaes be.
They'll think, when once they feel thy scorching pain,
That Phalaris had thither brought his Bull Again.
11.
From thence thou mayst to Egypt fly,
And be Thy self all their Ten Plagues in One:
There raise thy Trophies up on high;
And build an huge Colosse of Carkasses, not Stone:
Why boast the proud Aegyptian Princes then?
Thou canst build mighty Pyramids of Men.
Nor shall'st thou need, like them, whole Ages stay;
But rear thy Structures in a Day:
Nay, thou a greater Miracle canst show;
Finish thy work, and yet the work-men Slay;
Canst make them both the Builders and the Building too.
In vain amidst their fears,
The foolish people seek
Unto their noysome and infectious Leek;
Such Godds their Sorrow do encrease,
Such Godds Themselves breed the Disease;
Those Roots now truely are the cause of Tears.
How will those black Inhabitants admire,
When they no longer shall be smoak but Fire?
Those Moorish people (ev'n as Black,
As was the Darkness once which did their Land o'reflow)
Still fear the Plague Three Thousand years ago;
Their own thick Darkness on Themselves they view,
And every Native is the Walking Plague.
On these, Great Conquerour, thy fury vent;
Not men, but dismal Sepulchers that Breath and Talk:
Each hideous Moor's a Living Monument;
And even Tombs themselves, like Ghosts, do Walk.
See how the foolish Nation wears
Jewels at Noses Lips and Ears,
Like a black Night stuck full with Starrs:
Go then, thou mighty Conquerour,
And add unto their gaudy Store;
Adorn them with Thy Rubies too beside,
And at once Punish and Encrease their Pride.
12.
But if these conquests seem too vile;
To the Sev'n-mountain'd City take thy flight;
Whose proud Tops emulate the Sev'n Heads of Nile;
Those by their Distance are unknown, These by their Height.
Hills that so Lofty seem, as though
They were not only Rome's Foundation, but Heav'ns too.
These the True walls; Remus ne'er leapt o're them;
They might have Sooner Strided over Him.
Yet, Proud Disease, do Thou such stops deride;
And Think thy self to th' Other side:
There with thy Greater Cruelties evince
That Sylla was no Murderer; make Rome admire
Their Nero for a Mild and Pious Prince;
Set thou the People not the Town on Fire:
And Thou, as well as He,
Shalt hear harmonious tunes,
Both hideous and pleasant ones;
Sad sighs and howlings shall thy Musick be,
Thy Elaes are their Shreeks, thy Gamuts are their Groans.
No longer shall the Romans need
To Burn their dead;
They shall Anticipate their Funeral-Fires,
And be Themselves the Standing Pyres.
13.
No Magistrates in Royal Purple clad
Shall sit unmoved in the Senate-house,
When they shall see
Such a Destroying Gaul as Thee.
Unto the Desarts shall they flee,
(Like their great Founder Romulus)
Shall live amongst wild beasts; and only then
Seem like Kings, when they're no Men.
The Vestal Virgin to her Hearth doth run,
Doth still more fewel on the Altar cast,
And Fire with Fire Attone:
Then silling to her Goddess on her knees,
Ala [...] she crys, I that have liv'd so Cold and Chast,
A [...], how have I deserv'd such Flames as These?
Behold, Great Deity!
Behold in what tormenting flames I lye!
Extinguish these, and Thine shall never Dye.
Thus did she pray, but pray'd in vain;
No God in Rome dare longer stay;
Old heavy Saturn swiftly fled away
And in his Latium Hid himself Again.
Great Jove doth upwards, like his Eagle, soar;
Nor can the raging flames endure:
His Eagle never such a Lightning bore.
And Juno too amazed stands,
Hates her own Air, and Dreads what she Commands.
14.
Ah cruel Plague! in vain we bid thee go;
In vain do we to heav'n for mercy Sue;
Our holy'st Sighs are tainted with the Air,
And we are M [...]der'd by our very Prayer.
Nor dare the Priest to his own Temple come;
For fear his Pulpit should be made his Tomb;
Nor thinks it fit,
To turn his Surplice to a Winding-sheet.
The ancient custom's alter'd, we
For life run from the Sanctuarie.
Th' infected people out of Church do fly,
Cursing their very Prayers and Piety:
And of their Godliness do more
Repent, than of their very Sins before.
15.
St. Paul on his Cathedral streight looks down,
VVonders to see his Church and Quire all gon,
And finds the barbarous Plague to be
A far worse Persecutor of the Church, than He.
About his Head a glorious light there shone,
As Bright as That at his Conversion;
Able to strike beholders dim
And make them Blind, like Him.
He gaz'd and wonder'd what the cause should be;
But streight perceiving us bespotted, He
Almost believ'd 't had been his Leprosie.
No, great Apostle! This
Rather thy burning Serpent is.
Organs are dumb; instead of their sweet voice
Nothing but the dreaful noise
Of doleful knells;
And passing Bells;
Bells, which do strike the trembling Hearers too
Almost as Dead as Those for whom they Go.
Away the Singers ran;
And though before they wisht and would be Glad,
Yet now they are afraid
Lest they should Sing like the Melodious Swan.
The mournful Bells do ne're lye still;
England may truely now be call'd the Ringing Isle.
16.
The weeping mothers o're their infants set,
Hoping with tears t' allay the scorching heat.
The Babes are poyson'd with their tender food,
Their milk is mingled with their Blood:
The Children of Israel so
Unto the Land which did with milk o'reflow
Through a Red-sea did go.
Infected Mothers Breasts such flames dispence,
So hot a mortal Influence,
As though the Milky-way which There appears,
Like that in Heav'n, were nothing else but Starrs.
17.
Here doth a little Son
To ask his Father's Blessing run:
He Stabs his Father with infectious Air,
And Kills him with a Prayer.
The Child now Doubly feels the raging fire,
And sees Himself Again infected in his Sire.
The weeping Sire at once doth Bless and Chide
The Pious Murderer, the Obedient Paricide.
Children no more with terrour are amaz'd
To hear the Story of Narcissus told,
How the Fair Youth was Drown'd of old;
Fair, as the Nymph in which he gaz'd:
They count his Fate an Happiness; and do
Ev'n wish that They might dye so too:
They would rejoyce and think they're bound
To bless the very Waters where they're Drown'd.
18.
By his dead Mistress there a Lover lies;
Who raves and beats himself, as if he meant
The Pestilence to Prevent,
And do Himself what was the Plague's intent.
Then looking on his Dear, he cryes,
Ye Godds! why tear you not away these Eyes?
I've nothing now to Look upon,
Since that my Fair-ones gon.
The loveli'st creatures still do fare the worst;
Thus Roses always are Infected First.
Had she not Beauty-spots enough before?
Why then, ah cursed Plague, wouldst thou bring more?
Tell me curst Plague, tell me!
How could Her Breath Infected be?
Breath that doth Sweeten all where're it comes;
Breath that was able to have cur'd ev'n Thee;
And turn thy Poyson to Perfumes;
For when rude winds upon sweet Flowers Blow,
The winds themselves are sweeten'd too.
Ah wretch! and must I part with all my bliss,
VVithout one farewell-Kiss?
In those sweet Lips can death or danger be?
Those Lips which often have Recover'd me,
VVhen in Despair I've lain as Dead, as Shee:
That face, from which I often Life have took,
How can it Kill me with a look?
O that it could! and like Medusa's Face,
Transform me to a Stone; that in this place
Embracing thus my Dear-one I might dye,
And on her Corps her Tomb might lye.
19.
People were now grown almost mad,
Cheating and Stealing was the only Trade;
A Sin which to the Plague new Plagues did Adde.
One with his loaden Coffin home doth bye,
Wherein a little afterwards Himself doth lye.
Another, when the Plague had clear'd an house
At midnight into it he goes;
He ransacks all he there doth find,
Destroys what e're the Plague had left behind.
O how Unhappy is that Nations Doom,
VVhere men themselves the worser Pestilence become?
For whilst the Plague all other men doth Slay
These by the Pestilence do Thrive,
And by the very Plague do Live:
So greedy are they of their wicked pelf,
They strip and Rob the Dead; and seize
On the Infected Carkasses;
As if they meant to Steal away the Plague It self.
20.
The Mayor within the City stays,
And is Imprison'd where he Sways;
He hates the glory of his Sword and Mace;
Curses his Honour and his Place:
He fears his very Guards will him annoy,
And whom they should Protect, Destroy.
He strives to get away in vain,
He's fetter'd with his own gold Chain.
Sad and disconsolate he sits alone,
Nor will admit too many Waiters on;
He nothing cares for watch or ward,
But thinks he's safest now Without a Guard.
21.
But then as if the Plague destroy'd too Slow,
And murder'd not enough;
Accursed Rebels had a Plot begun;
A Plot, which is High-Treason but to Think upon.
They Mines of Sulphur get,
To add unto the Plague a fiercer heat.
Fools that they were;
The very Powder which they did prepare,
VVas th'only remedy to cleanse the Air.
They had been Courteous thus,
And had not Murder'd but Cur'd us.
Such dull ridiculous Souldiers sure as These
Were never known, who chuse
Weapons that may not Hurt their foes,
Who fight not to Destroy, but Save their Enemies.
Here was a valiant Troop indeed!
Of Living Souldiers now there was no need,
VVe could have overcome these with our Dead:
A mighty army sure! where one
Dead Infant could have made them Run.
And yet suppose they'd got the better then,
Still had they Conquer'd been;
The Spoils they plunder from the slain
Infect and murder them Again.
And they who are the Conquerours do Fly;
Destroy'd and Overcome by their own Victory.
22.
Famine beholding what was done,
Rose up in rage, and thus begun:
So many Thousands, and not One for me?
Have I so long, O Death, thee serv'd?
Have I so often Feasted thee,
And must I now my self be Sterv'd?
Hast thou a purpose to destroy?
Thou shouldst not Pestilence, but Me employ.
Me, who can Kill that very Pestilence; Me,
VVho to the Plague It self a Plague can be.
Should I but rage, the famisht people streight
The dead infected Carkasses would Eat;
They'd tremble at the Plague no more,
But would the Plague it self Devour,
And Glut on Him as He on Them before.
'Tis I can make each Father be
Thyestes, and devour his Progenie:
I can make men on their Own bodies feast,
And be Themselves the Banquet and the Guest.
Should I my powerful anger show,
Not only Men but Godds would tremble too.
Should I ascend to heav'n, and take away
The Godd's Ambrosia,
The Godds themselves, I fear,
Would Famish, though they never so Immortal are.
No more would hungry Jove his Eagle spare;
But kill her with the Thunder she doth Bear.
And Juno wanting whereupon to feed,
Would quickly turn to Air, and be a Cloud indeed.
23.
She spoke, and streight the hungry people dye,
Meet a worse Death than that they flye:
The Famine doth not Quickly slay;
But kills, like Salvage Tyrants, with Delay:
In ling'ring pains they loose their breath,
As if they Liv'd a Death.
They wish the Plague, they cannot Get;
And Envy those who Dye with it.
Here's one with such thin hollow Cheeks, you'd say
His Teeth had Eat his Cheeks away.
Here's one with Legs so thin and bare,
That ev'n the naked Bones appear;
So that you'd think, they not his Legs but Crutches were.
Painters their art now needless find
To paint a Lady with grim Death behind:
She takes her Looking-glass,
Startles to See she hath no Eyes;
Affrighted at her hollow face,
Blushes to see her cheeks in Pale disguise;
And Her self now
Is both the Lady and Death too.
24.
People no more frequent the Theatre,
Since this new Tragedy began to rage;
A Tragedy ne're heard of, where
All the People Actors are,
And all the City is the Stage.
We act a while, and then we have
Our Exit, and retire into the grave:
Only in this, out far worse doom
From Players is distinguished,
For we, alas, are Dead
Both on the Stage and in the Tyring-room.
The Royal Theatre is empty Seen,
Nor dare the boldest Gallant enter in;
He fears the Lamps will Funeral-Torches be;
And they shall. Act the Tragick-Play, they only came to See.
25.
Death's writ in blood on every door;
Red Characters on our Posts are signs of Life no more.
Some without Nurses helpless lye,
Yet knowing well their cruelty,
VVill suffer none come nigh;
But rather than with Two, they will with One Plague dy.
Before each house are Bone-fires made;
As though they meant, as once of old, to Burn their Dead.
Strange way methinks is this
VVith Fires to Cure an Hot Disease.
VVas ever sickness like to This endur'd,
VVhich can by nothing but It self be cur'd?
How can we hope that Smoak should Clear,
VVhich is the only thing that Clouds the Air?
26.
Strange Conqueror sure is that, who with more ease
Defeats his Strong than weaker enemies;
Yet such an one is this Disease:
Old men do live secure and safe,
And they who nearest are, are farthest from the Grave.
Should but the Plague begin
VVith his hot fires and burning pains
To heat their blood and warm their veins,
They would Rejoyce, and think they're growing Young agen.
The strong and lusty dye at their best time;
VVhen Youth is at its height, and life is in its prime.
So an Eclipse is never known
But at Full Moon;
Thus Shadows always shortest are at Noon.
27.
The Drunkard felt the raging flame begin,
And swore he'd put it out with wine.
The Grape that oft Distemper'd him before,
Doth now his health and life restore:
Thus is he quicken'd by the strange device,
And (like his Bacchus) is begotten Twice.
Then he prepares the Grave to cheat;
Stead of himself, buries his Winding-sheet.
Such a deceit did Charles the Fifth contrive,
He to his Herse all funeral-rites did give;
But 'twas his Coffin only Dy'd, himself was yet Alive.
The Gamesters view'd themselves and were dismay'd,
For all their faces and their bodies o're
They now black spots and patches wore,
And Lookt just like the Dice with which they Play'd.
In vain they meet at Ordinaries, when
Amongst them in the room
A strange unheard-of Gamester there was come;
Who did not play for Money, but for Men.
The Lustful man who burns with hot desire,
Felt a new Flame burn hotter than his Lust:
And sure the heavens were just,
To send the Plague on Him, and Punish Fire with Fire.
Oft he on Venus call'd, yet could not She
Allay his flames, although begotten of the Sea.
In vain on Cupid doth he cry;
Well did He know, and therefore comes not nigh,
That chiefly in a Plague the Little Children Dye.
28.
We laught at all Diseases else; for they,
Like lesser guns, but one a time do slay;
This, like whole Cannon, tears whole Troops away.
Here's one doth in a shivering Ague lye,
Would Dance and Leap, not Tremble, should the Plague come nigh.
Here Swims another in a Dropsie, who
Himself doth seem to be
Both his own Ship and Sea,
Who is both Tantalus and the water too.
He at the burning Plague does laugh;
Thinks in his VVaters he is safe.
The Dropsie though in time it self be sure
To Kill him, keeps him from the Plague secure;
Is both his Life-guard and his Murderer:
Small comfort in the change is found;
He escapes Burning, only to be Drown'd.
29.
Some did their Dead in Gardens throw;
And on the Corps grew Flowers all along,
Decking the Bodies whence they sprung;
Flowers, as Fading as the Corps from which they Grow.
The Dead who buried be
Within these Gardens do
Safer keep These,
Than the Hesperian Dragon His;
Nay, and with Flames far worse than He;
Flames able to Consume Him, and his Fires too.
Thus did they hide the Dead,
And every Garden a Church-yard was made.
Often, alas, the wretched people thought
Upon the customs and the times before;
How that the Dead of old were wafted o're
The Stygian Lake in Charon's Boat:
And oh, how do they wish, that also now
Over That River they might go;
For in those VVaves having allay'd their heat and pain,
They did almost believe they should Revive again.
30.
Spots on their bodies did appear, as though
The angry Sun
Had not on them sent forth his Beams alone,
But his Spots too.
Ladies wear Patches not to Grace,
But to Hide their blushing face.
Their cheeks which lately painted were with Red
In sable colours now are clad:
So in an Evening you might see the Sun
Setting in Purple Blushes, yet anon
A dark and blacker Night comes on.
Their Beauty in those Sable weeds adorn'd
Did seem, as if for Its own Death it mourn'd▪
Those Clouds arising in that Sky,
Truly foretold a Tempest nigh:
VVhen the Black Sails we see appear,
VVe, like Aegeus, needs must fear
Death and Destruction near
The people's whiter skins were speckled o're,
And all the common Rout the Royal Ermine wore.
And Black Spots now
Don't only show
(As 'tis in Maps) the Places, but the People too.
31.
Hold nimble Muse!
Check the loose rains, and stop thy hafty speed!
Ah wherefore (like that Roman Lady) thus
Lov'st thou to drive thy Chariot o're the Dead?
Alas, dear Muse, thou spendst thy time in vain;
Nor wilt thou Laurel here, but Cypress gain.
Thou'lt meet with nothing here but tears, and sighs, and woes;
Where're thou strik'st thy Foot, a Fountain flows:
And must thy Noble Pegasus then
(Like Diomedes Steeds) be Fed with Men?
Thou that canst with mighty lays
Another Thebes for thy Great Master Pindar raise;
Whilst Towers (like their Guards within) advance;
And Marbles nimbly, as thy Strings, would Dance:
Now thy breath in vain consumes;
Nor wilt thou Here Build Walls or Palaces, but Tombs.
In urnes and graves such pleasure to be had?
Dost thou, like Orpheus, Sing among the Dead?
And shall the Laurel which adorns thy brow
Only on Graves (like fatal Mandrake) grow?
Come, come, fond Muse, away!
See where on Thames thy guilded Barge does stay;
Let it to Isis thee convey:
Thy Phoebus Steers thee; and thy Barge shall move.
Swift as Himself doth Sail i'th' Crystal Thames Above.
And whilst to Mighty CHARLES thou cut'st the stream,
The Silver Swans by thy Barge-side shall swim.
Singing, Like Thee; and Crown'd, Like Him.
32.
The Muse retiring to her Native Town
Streight clapt her wings, and back again she flew:
So Bright a Majesty She could not view;
The Bird of Athens looks not on the Sun.
What dazling Lights do there
From yonder Coach appear?
'Tis CHARLES his Chariot comes, and in it move
As Glorious Stars as in His Wain above.
Behold the King himself, and the Queen too!
The World upon an Axle-Tree moves truly now.
Did but the Sun this Glorious Train espy,
He would believe he had Mistook the Sky,
And think that This is Heav'n Below.
Yonder's that Wondrous Monarch, who Defeats
Both forraign Foes, and native Wits:
VVho on a Tripos of Three Kingdoms sits,
And (like Apollo) at once Inspires Poets, and makes them Mad:
So whilst the Sun doth in his Chariot go,
And on the Stars around his beams are shed,
He both Enlightens, and Obscures them too.
VVhat joys, Great Sir, to us You bring!
Bells for the Dead at London shall not Ring
So fast as ours to welcome here our King.
How do those wretched people moan!
Not that they Dye, but that their Prince is Gone:
They only grieve that CHARLES away is driv'n;
Hell's greatest Torment is the loss of Heav'n.
33.
Since unto us, Great Monarch, you resort,
Each Colledge shall a Sanctuary stand,
Shall be at once a Temple and a Fort,
To Guard You from the Foe by Sea, and from the Plague by Land.
VVith Charming Verse (like Conjurers) we'll lay
The Stalking Belgick Foe i'th' bottome of the Sea:
With Armed Rymes we will the foe disperse,
(Like Irish Rats) we'll Murder them with Verse.
Like mighty Nero, that Poetick King,
We'll Burn their Floating City, whilst we Sing.
Pindar himself, Great CHARLES, shall Fight for Thee,
Marshal his Forces under thy command:
He (whose fam'd House a Garrison did stand,
And stopt that mighty Conqueror's hand)
Squadrons of Stanzaes he shall bring; and be
As Famous for his VVars and Victories as He.
Thus the Ancients very fit
Made Pallas Goddess both of War and VVit.
Thus Poets like Great Caesars do appear;
One Hand a Poem, th' other a Sword doth bear.
The valiant Troops unto the Sea do throng,
And Drown their foes (like Syrens) with a Song.
Thither couragiously they go;
Conquer, and Sing their Conquests too.
Down all opposers, like the Main, they Beat;
And gain a Fame as Boundless too, as That:
No wonder Phoebus God of Poetry
Doth Rise so glorious from the Sea.
34.
But ah, just Heavens, as for that other Foe,
Your selves have brought, as if you meant to show
That none should boast a Conquest over CHARLES, but You:
Enough, enough, we quit the field;
'Tis Piety and Valor here to Yeild:
Not others, but our selves we Conquer now;
And Victors are, good Heavens, as well as You:
So doth the Palm Arise by Bowing down;
Not unto Other Conquerors alone,
But to its self becomes a Palm, and its Own Head doth Crown.
So Daphne once pursu'd by the bright God of day,
Became a Laurel while She Fled away.
When Heaven it self begins to war,
He the best Souldier is who most doth Fear;
That lies perdue upon the ground in Prayers,
Fills up the Trenches with his Tears;
Shoots ardent Sighs; and stead of guns
Discharges Vollies of deep Groans.
Thus doth our Monarch wage His Holy VVarrs,
Counts it the noblest Onset when He Flies,
By Prostrating Himself He Climbs the Scarrs;
And Riseth nearer up to Heav'n, by Falling on His Knees.
Behold, the Mighty power of CHARLES his Prayers!
For Heaven it self is Conquer'd with his Tears:
Thus Heaven and Starrs Above do show,
But yet are in the VVaters seen Below.
35.
Such was our Prince's pious care,
London with Oxford did its Monarch share;
For Thames and Isis but one River are.
When He departs, with joyful heavy mind,
He leaves Himself in His Fair Queen behind.
Thus when our Athens did Great Neptune loose,
Minerva for its Guard arose.
To You, Great Queen, returns our Trembling Muse;
One only Smile She begs thus low;
And thinks Her self a Queen, if She might VVorship You.
Her Presents merit no esteem,
Unless made Pretious by Your Royal Beam:
So when the Sun doth gentle Raies bestow
On some dull Vapour in the Skies below,
Of a dark Cloud He makes a Glorious Bow.
But Pardon, you Divinest Pair,
That thus my Humble Muse should dare
Before such Royal Majesties appear:
Thus the Lark's Tenant both of Earth and Skies;
No Bird Lies Lower, and none Higher Flies.
FINIS.