Parnassus Aboriens: OR, SOME SPARKES OF Poesie.
By R.W. Philomus.
Ovid: Trist: 5. Eleg: 1: Hic quoque talis erit, qualis fortuna Poetae, Invenies toto Carmine dulce nihil.
LONDON, Printed in the Year; 1664.
ITER ORIENTALE: Performed in Aprill, 1662.
A Templar, who had's Littleton dissolv'd,
Eaten his Cook, &'s Kitchin pawn'd, resolv'd
To take the aire, and for his recreation
To grant his broken window's a vacation.
Leaving his fellow-Students for to eat
Their wheaten Trenchers in the stead of Meat:
The only heyrlome that's traduc't from (a) those
Tr [...]jans, which they their ancestors suppose.
But first to Lealbare' a goes, where he
Was wont to meet with the Fraternitie.
There found a Draper, who his shop had drunk,
And trusted all his Wares unto a Punk.
Him he engag'd for sympathy of state
As convoy, to encounter sim'lar fate.
And, see the strange concurrence of their wills,
He, in his own, his friends desire fulfills.
As courtlike Gallants use to doe, he meant
To wait upon a Lady into Kent
Then there in company, a pretty woman,
For disposit'on coy, and yet not common.
Well, time's prefixed, and we all provide
To take advantage of the morning tyde.
Thus suffrages agreeing the debate
Was ended, and we p rt for it grew late.
Next morn' the Lady (who receiv'd a shot
O'er night by th' Paph'an Archer, but knew not
From whence it came, for th' subtile boy did lye
Behind the Sable Curtains of an Eye.
Yet th' symptomes were so poignant, that they broke
Morpheus his le de [...] locks and burst his yoak.)
As soon as Phospher had his course begun
Arose and did anticip [...]te the [...]un:
Hastens to th' meetingplace, and there attends
Th' [...]ppro [...]ch of her desiderated friends.
At last, but not so soon as she desir'd,
With longing expect [...]tion well near tyr'd,
Through the Tralucent-glass she did espye
The blind Where's Footbal's doom'd for company.
Her surly p [...]ss ons being thus [...]ppe [...]s [...]d
O res were at hand, to waft us when we pleas'd,
To Belines gate, [...]nd now twastime for Thames,
By th' help of th retrogade aspiring streams,
Was at his Zenith, and would quickly wend
Along with th [...] Pass [...]ge-boat towards Graves-end.
So off we thrun and stem the watry tract
But 't seems the Watermen were not exact
In calculat'on for before we can
Arrive at th' Key from th' almost singing Swan,
The Water ebb'd so f [...]st, the Gravesend boat
Was put from th'stairs riding along a float.
And we, bec [...]use the Barge was gone before's,
Were well content to trust our selves in Oares.
So down we hasted, and they'd quickly born's
With a side winde beyond the Cuckold's hornes.
But from that port, scarce halfe a mile had went,
Before the Reaches grew more turbulent.
So that the boat with lofty tolutation,
Struck fear in some, in others a vexation;
Because some fear'd, and th' Lady was full loath
To lye invelop'd in the course Tilt-cloath.
Such is the nature of timidity
Though seeing caus'd it, yet she lov'd to see.
At last a long-wing'd Pinnace, which was bound
For some remoter bay, did more astound.
The lusty lazy lubbers cease to row,
And, having leave a little way to tow,
Cross'd o'er to meet their Scyph, and here appears
Their utmost skill, and our extreamest feares
For, had we gone too fast our boat h [...]d split,
Too slow, we could not have o'ertaken it.
Thus in a strange Dilemma we avoid
Scyll' and Charybdis and to th' boat are ty'd.
And now with Eaglewinged speed we plow
The watry ridges, and can scarce tell how
We are so fast transported, but at last
Their Sails begin to flag, and we as fast
Release our prow which was fast bound to them,
And trust to th' mercey of a r [...]ging stream.
Which sometimes throws us up into the Sky,
And sometimes lets us fall to hell well nigh.
Meanwhile we lye supinely on our backs,
One laughs, one sings, another fears a Wrack:
And therefore her ejaculations sends
To the supreme Director to defend's;
And so he did indeed, at last we land
All s [...]fe on the long wish'd-for Kentish strand.
And here the Lyon is the word, where we
Turn'd off Canary-bowls with jollitie.
Thus after storms of sighs, and showres of tears,
Joy, when it comes, most joviall appears.
But th'clock strikes One, and fourteen miles to ride,
'Tis time for those to goe that want a guide.
But ye're most vile Exactors that ye are,
Five shillings for a double horse so farre?
What is the reason that ye thus exact,
'Bove other Englishmen in each compact?
Is't cause those Travellors which touch your border,
May be deterred from proceeding farther?
Or that Exoticks which are outward bound,
May have cause to forswear the English ground?
Hereby you verifie those (a) imputations
Impos'd upon's of old by foreign Nations.
But we're for Rochester, where we survay
The stately Bridge, and Chatham's royall Bay.
And 'mongst the rest the Crown mu'nt be forgot,
Where we must needs alight and drink a pot.
There we are shew'd the Room which did contain
The Majesty of Britain's Soveraign:
And the great Bed he lay in as he went
Towards his Throne from direfull banishment.
But we soon mount again, and fix our station
Nigh th' Ham to which frogs give denomination.
Next day we traverse the enamel'd Fields,
And view the rarities Pomona yeilds.
Walk those Quincunc' all Cherry-orchards round,
From Stroma to the hoary-Rock renown'd.
Able to glut Voluptas with delight,
And dull old Avariti's appetite.
'Tis with exub'rant sweets so well endow'd,
That, maugre opposit'on, I'll conclude
Kent is old Alb'on's Eden for delight,
And his Hesperides for all but site.
But what is this that thus disturbs my rest?
Sure Love hath taken Seisin of my breast.
Celarent's Prodroma and I must be
Subjugated in signe of slavery.
Ah poor Medea, how I (a) pitty those
Whose reason doth their love, like (b) thine, oppose!
But I submit old boy, and will sit still
Let Hymen and the sisters work their will.
By this time Phoebus Patron of the Bayes
Unlock'd the Daisy five times with his rayes.
Soe we returne again, and take no care
Who must defray the fundling bill of fare.
THE CHRONICLE
Insulting Anna first posses't
Th' Elective Empire of my breast.
But she still kept me in such slavery,
I could not long admit her tyranny.
So I dethron'd her, and a while
With her was monarchy exil'd.
For Pegg and Sal yeares three or foure
Rul'd by a Consulary pow'r.
But yet I seemed well amended now,
For these indulgent Queens did but allow
Me too much freedome, which provok'd
My Rebell-heart to quit their yoak.
Then reign'd Elizabeth the first
That bears that n [...]me, and most accurst.
[...]all the priviledges that were done
[...] her for me were by compulsion.
And what man is there but believes
The will enhanceth what one gives.
Then Besse the second bore the sway,
Untill the helme was pluck't away
[...] of her hand by the admired Anne,
[...]gh not the first yet second unto none.
And she had reigned untill now
[...] that the Fates would not allow.
Then did deposed Besse arise
And first began to tyrannize.
Intending, but she was deceiv'd, thereby
To frowne a Rebell into loyalty.
For ANNE the third possest the chair
Whom God grant Atr'pos long may spare.
Ʋpon a Kisse.
Dialogue
Sylvanus. Cupid.
Sylv.
I Pre'thee Cupid tell me this,
What pleasure is there in a kisse?
I've kiss'd our Mopsa's lips, but ne'er
Could find one jot of sweetnesse there.
Cup.
Poor silly swain 't no wonder is
Thou could'st not taste that subtile blisse.
Tis sublimated farre above
All sense but what's inspir'd by Love.
Sylv.
I cannot chuse but laugh to see
A boy fraught with such subtilty.
To make's believe such sweets there dwell
Which nought but Ignorance can tell.
Cup.
Peace daring mortall rul'd by sense,
Blaspheme not mine omnipotence.
Least with this shaft, my thunder, I
Do burne thee for thy Haeresy.
Sylv.
[Page 8]Alas blind boy do'n't think that I
Regard thy weak Artillery.
Goe, shoot at Sparrows not at Hearts
Mine here defyes thy sharpest darts.
Cup.
This bowe made Phaebus yeild to me,
And now, rash youth, it shall wound thee.—
Now goe and see if thou can'st tast
The sweets of Lovers chiefe repast.
Novembris. 16.
Sylv.
I've been and seen and tasted more
Than e'er I could discerne before.
And now conclude no pow'r's above
That Oecumenick Monarch, Love.
Such kisses (a) Erycina gave
To Jove her father, when she'd crave
A respite for her wandring boy
Escaping from the flames of Troy.
Nor were her namesake's ought behind
By th' Lovers Alchymy refin'd.
Of (c) suavity and Innocence.
And now the Heptarchs of the skyes
With us did seem to sympathize.
The King of Poets and the Queen
Of Love were in (a) conjunct'on seen.
Hence, by a Praedesigne of Fate,
Her Or'entality beares date.
And my Ianthe shines to me
As bright a Morning-star as she.
Chorus.
Let Rebels now his rule disclaim,For my part I Love's Liegeman am:
And henceforth Orthodox will be
In worshipping his Deity.
Obeying his Poppoean law
Which keeps the Universe in awe.
The Paralell.
LEt Nature's Cabalists explore the cause
That Ignivomous mount' hath stop'd his jawes,
Who with his often eructat'ons hurl'd,
Such flames as us'd to terrify the world.
Those subterran'an fires, though there at rest,
Have broken out, I feel, within my breast.
My heart is now Vesuvius, that flame
Wherein I broyl, proves Vulcan is not lame.
Here Sirius still reigns, nor can I find
The least abatement by Etes'an wind.
That seeming Amphitheatre, where eye
Ne'er saw ought personate but Vacancy,
Is here becom the real place where lyes
Both Scene and Stage of my long Tragedies
By Erycina acted; and beneath
Her Statue's fix't crown'd with a victors wreath.
But here we differ, that fire us'd to be
Kindled to bode some dire Catastrophe:
And so was transient, or did admit
Respite for want of stuff to cherish it.
But these great Conflagrations which I
Endure (alass) do still receive supply
Of Fuel to augment them, while the same
Proves both Incendiary, and the flame.
Upon the Ides of March.
Onomasticon.
PErusing my old Kalend r, I find
This day to great (a) Perenna's feast assign'd:
Which hard by Tyber's banks was wont to be
Celebrated with much solemnity.
But sith their Flamins left it in suspence
Who 'twas did merit such preeminence,
Whether the Moon, Themis, Elisa's sister,
Or her Jove made a Cow because he kiss'd her.
I hope I may without offence apply't
To one that more deserves that Epithet.
For all our Druids have long since forsook
These Woods wherein they once such pleasure took.
And no Remayns can shew what Rituals
Serv'd at these antiquated Festivals.
Here then I'll sit, and in my fancy raise
A Fane for Erycina's ann'all praise.
Wherein our Oreads and Hamadryads,
Our Seagreen Nereids, and our clearskin'd Naiads,
Shall yearly the new Operas recite
As was the custome in the (a) former rite,
Then 'tshall appear Ianthe doth excell
The famous gossip of our Buxton well.
Then Decio shall be in more repute
Than she that Malta's Knights did institute.
She that tought Ladies first to ride aside
Shall be by Amaranta then outvy'd.
And Polyonoma more right shall shew,
Then any other can pretend, thereto.
Then future ages may perhaps believe
The yeare, to which she Etymon doth give,
Hence took (b) beginning: While my Muse shall do
Her best to make this Anne Perenna too.
And I will unto nothing else aspire
But so much happiness as not t'
(c) Nil admirari, prope res est una, Numici, Sola (que) quae possit facere & servare bea [...]ū Hor: lib: 1. Ep: 6.
admire.To Idonea
Upon her distrust of his constancy.
CAn Fishes live i'th' aire? can Eagles creep
Along the caverns of the raging deep?
Can Salamanders change their Element?
Or can the lean Camel'on break up Lent,
Usurp old Amphitrite's proper ward,
And feed o'th' Nobles of the scaly herd?
Can Rivers lose their way, and backward run
Unto the Fountains where their Stre [...]ms begun?
Can Rocks forget their ponderosity,
And soare like atomes in the azure Sky?
Can Bladders sound the Cataracts of Nile,
Or the abysse of Canacus his hill?
Can th' Needle turne to th' South? Can Magnets fly
From Iron by innate antipathy?
Can th' Orbes oth' Planets cease? Can fixt Stars fall,
And lye like Bristel-Diamends on this ball?
Can Fire descend? Can Water scale the cliff
Of Athos, or aspiring Tenariff?
Canth' Earth turne fluid, and expose to view
Her weighty treasure like the pearly dew?
Can Aire condens'd grow ponderous, and flit
Unto the Centre as it's proper seat?
Can Nature abrog [...]te those lawes which she
Confirm'd to last to perpetuity?
If so, you have some cause to deem that I
Apostatize from vow'd fidelity.
Oh no, my Deare, that wound, which in my heart
The winged boy made with his golden dart,
Is not so supersic'al to admit
Absence or objects for to pall'ate it;
Much less recure, what ev'ry SIGHT of thee
Doth bruise, and every WORD doth scarify.
What ev'ry TOUCH doth venome and make swell,
What ev'ry KISSE doth make incurable.
What will't be then, when th' (a) Black-ey'd Queen shail squeeze
Into our cups the QUINTESSENCE of these?
That (b) fifth part of her Nectar? Which may I
And thou long drink without satiety.
For while that Morta deigns to spare my thred,
By all the pleasures of thy Nupt'all bed
I will be thine, and common fairs detest,
And in this resolution IREST, &c.
An ELO / EGIE Upon the death of the Incomparable Violist FRANCES POLEWHEELE deceased April, 12. 1663.
BUT can'st thou goe great soul of Melody,
And not a Bard vouchsafe an Elegy?
No, that thou shalt not, from my blooming yeares
Accept this tribute of a Sister's tears.
Methinks I see thee mount thy Pedestal,
And hear the Organs play the Gradual.
Methinks I see thee st ll possess thy chair
Running divis'on on thy Lyd'an Aire.
While the attentive croud amazed stand
At the Aspend'an touches of thy hand.
Whereby more men to virtue thou didst call
Than th' Author stones unto the Theban wall.
Had'st thous yl'd to Anticyra, thou might'st—
Have play'd a Motet in divinest rites.
They that went from thee discompos'd in spirit
Do Pindar's heavy censure justly merit.
Thou mad'st in [...]nimates extatick too,
Which Orpheus, nor Arion, ne'er could do.
Their Agathon'an lightness made them dance,
But thine put ev'ry tree in [...]o a trance.
Na, Lachesis was so attentive grown
Unto thy part, that she forgat her own.
And so through inadvertency she left
Spinning, and wretch [...]d us of thee bereft.
Oh fatal Girle! had she knowne what she did
She would not have so soon put up thy thred.
Or had'st thou taken but thy Viol with thee,
Minos would have had nothing to say to thee.
That might the incorrupted bench have brib'd,
And forc'd the Judges to have thee repriv'd.
But now expostulat'ons are in vain,
No hopes my Muse shall fetch thee back again.
Wherefore I'll dreyn the torrent of her eyes,
And leave the Sphoeres to sing thy obsequies.
To Erycina, Upon her retirement to Norwich.
Madam,
SIth 'tis your pleasure to deprive
Us of that influence by which we live,
Permit your poor Devoto to recount
To what his infoelicities amount.
Which, though they be as (a) numberless as true,
Are all summ'd up in this, his loss of you
Who only are not heaven, whil'st his all
Of comfort left is that they're (b) Veniall.
When first mine eyes these hidden flames reveal'd,
Which, to increase my woes my tongue (c) conceal'd,
By misconstruction you did reprove
That silence which doth (d) magnify my love.
In modesty distrusting that try'd dart
Your light'ning eye, which, though it pierc'd my heart,
Yet I was forc'd to love and to endure,
With confidence in Telephus his (e) cure.
But now that love, (alass) which us'd to be
Fed with his proper (a) food, by Cachexy
Lives onely on it's contrary despair
More subtle than the lean Camel'on's fare.
And yet he (b) thrives upon't, although I try
All shifts for to evade's Ʋbiquity.
Now with some friends I tast of (c) Liber's wealth,
And drink the Poets (d) Nonade to your health.
Then with Diana in the woods I chear
Yet allin vain, my heart doth still resent
Those fires your absence will, I fear, (f) augment.
Though had I kept them (g) secret they might then
Have had the honour to have (h) greater been.
But cursed Anteloquia, whose tongue
First did your matchless innocence that wrong,
My hopes of their increase are turn'd to fears.
For which may all those miserable evils
That ever were contriv'd by Duns or Devils
Light on her: Or, what's worse, O let her be
Full as unhappy as she hath made me.
Now, through my fancy's opticks I perceive
The Trinobantine Virgins take their leave:
With what unwillingness they strive to spell
The parting lover's Shibboleth farewell.
Such as those matrons valedict'on, when
And reason good, we by your absence have
Lost more of happiness than e'er you gave.
For of all bad conditions his state
Is the most wretched who was fortunate.
How blest, if their own happiness they knew,
Were those Icenians enjoying you!
Whose presence onely's able to exclude,
From the most wildring desart solitude.
And now to Norwich shall this glory add
To reinstate her in the place she (a) had:
Usurping Bristow from her throne detrude,
And seat her third of the first magnitude.
Nay, what devotion old Bards express'd
In standing with their faces tow'rds the West
'Cause the Canary Isles, which by them were
So memoriz'd, are scituated there.
Such and sarre more to her shall moderns shew
That's made more fortunate than (b) they by you.
And with what Saint must that place be possest
That makes the Poet thus to turne a Priest?
But may you not yet prove what some suspect,
Unless in the Norsol [...]'an Dialect,
A mother there; and so seem to beguile's
In your retirement with their famous Wyles.
Your pardon, Madam, if my love offends,
Which mine, as well as others, faith transcends.
'Tis not the shrine, though chief in nature's store,
It is the Saint that I so much adore.
Which I hope still I may, in spite of Fame,
Without a Catachresis terme the same.
Tis true were chastity intail'd upon
Deformed persons by succession,
Whereby all those that would be perfect Nuns
Must be as ugly as th'Colanians;
Perhaps I then might think those censures true
Which malice hath so often cast on you:
But now I must regard their words no more
Then you did my neglected flames before.
Those flames which have consuted all that thought
You had no other beauty than you bought.
For, though Parrhasius his cloath might be
Exact enough to cheat a Zeuxis eye
As much as did his painted Grapes the birds,
Of such a thing no history affords
A president; Apelles ne'er could turne
A painted fire so right to make it burne.
So that I cannot yet deny, what's due
From all unto (a) formosity and you,
A good opinion, although I know
Those many snares that (b) place subjects you to.
For, by the aide of your chast (a) soul, you scorne
All their assaults whether by mine or storme.
And, while some tugg at little Rumwald's shrine,
And others Wilfrid's needle think too fine
Because they cannot thred it, you defye
All these Criterions of chastity.
And, when you enter Hymen's bonds, and so
Shall have a Joynture of a double (b) woe,
Should he be blind again, I dare assure
Pheron might here obtain a second cure.
Nor need you fear the (c) Stork, nor to try all
Your issue by the (d) Psylline Ordeal.
No, thither you remove to shun this noise,
And tast the sweetness of retired joyes:
Secure in innocence to hate and pitty
The toyl and croud of this unweildy city.
Whil'st we the Orphan Theatre frequent,
Depriv'd o'th' patronage your beauty lent.
Better than that which once love would not let
Ovid, Maugre his exile, to (e) forget,
'Cause from obscenity reform'd; although
Our Zealots think it not reform'd enough.
They threaten't with a thorow reformation
Taken according to the last translation.
And how that version did change the sense
Some of our Churches too much evidence.
Thus doth the Ignis fatuus delude
That (a) many headed beast the multitude.
So have I seen a Monkey break a glass
Because it did reflect his ugly face.
But there you are exempt, and uncontrol'd
May laugh at th' dotage of this aged world;
And in those (b) Ashen groves these fools lament
That realize what you did represent.
O may the Marshland baily ne'er arrest you,
Nor any other malady molest you.
But may your life, and that long, alwaies be
As free from sorrow as dishonesty.
So wisheth he who hopes in time to prove
His verse is farre inferiour to's love.
To Janus.
Upon the new year.
REview old Janus with thy backward face
All past years by time's footsteps thou can'st trace
Search his dull mouldy Annals, try to find
An year like this which thou hast left behind.
Such grand remarques as Phoebus ne'r did see
Since he and's Sister slept in (a) Chaos thee.
At the last Session when all the Gods
Were summon'd, Love, and Hymen were at odds
About a business then mov'd; which jars
Alarm'd to these much more that civill wars,
Scarce to be reconcil'd; I wish that wine
Were not the cause and so the Trumpet (b) thine.
But they're resolv'd, although against her will,
Dunmow shall keep her stinking Bacon still.
Whil'st I, supported on mine either hand
By hope and patience climbe an (c) hill of sand.
And now thou Turn-key to the (d) Universe,
Who do'st with thy al-seeing eye disperse
The mists of ignorance, (If o'er the fates
Thou hast that pow'r as o'er (e) Olympus gates)
See if in their Decretals thou can'st find
An end unto this am'rous war assign'd.
And when Portumnus thou do'st next survey
Thy Kingdome scituate ith' Belgick sea,
Before the rest let my beloved Yar
Receive a pledge of thy pecul'ar care.
Upon whose happy banks there doth reside
Augusta's loss, and the Icen'an pride
My Amaranta, whom perhaps thou may'st
Encounter walking on the marine wast.
Going to see the wanton Nereids keep
Their Revels in the curled German deep.
If so, sollicite her to grant a truce,
And let my heart, her long since captive, loose.
If she deny't (but speak as suppl'ants use)
Get thy beloved Carna to infuse
Some of her principles, her name alone
Apply'd can make her verify her (a) owne
And 'twixt these Gods a moderator be
To reconcile their dire hostility;
To which if she a per'ode please to put,
Tell her she must Love's Janus-Temple shut.
Satyricon.
PEace testy dotard, wilt thou still dispence
The rusty rules of thy experience?
Thy Axioms to us but onely be
True signs of thy deceptibility.
For thou didst once as much approve what now
Thou seem'st to us so much to disallow.
So that thy errour's plain, for it would be,
Monstrous should contradictorys agree.
And is't not reason we should now suspect
The Organs of thy purblnd Intellect.
A constant symptome of that (a) malady
Which bends thee with its (b) ponderosity.
Goe to the Earth, wherto thou tend'st, and see
That Mans'on which must hold thy dross and thee.
For ye will never part while thou'rt alive,
If when thou'rt dead; a man as well may strive
To wean the Steel from th' Agat as to hold
Thee from th' embraces of thy God thy Gold,
Which stil is worship'd though there's nought whereby
To prove the custome but the (c) frequency.
Such a magnetick virtu's in that bed
To which thou'd'st have thy sons too married.
Notorious blindness to have Cupid be
Guided by Fortune who's as blind as he.
But what talk I of Cupid now? his bow,
Alass was broken many years agoe.
There's no such thing as love remains, those darts
Which wound the hardest adamantine hearts.
The dowry (a) throws, and nothing's thought so bad
As that good Statute which (b) Lycurgus made.
O! what egreg'ous cow'rdise 'tis to be
Led captive by so weak an enemy!
Poor feeble bloodless trunk, where hast thou lost
Those brave heroick streams which thou did'st boast
Ran in thy veins? Was't some Romantick strayn
Drew that Chimoera from thy tow'ring brain?
I think so too, Nobility's nought else
But a meer name created by our selves.
But such a wench deserves not such a Lord
Because her rustick birth cannot afford
Enough Easterling thousands for to be
A counterpoize to his nobility.
Yet this is no embargo to his course,
Though't be a common Aphorisme, the source
Of whose affection is true love, a mint
That hath a mixture o'th' Platonick in't.
That man's pretended ardour's but desire
Which needs such fuel to maintain his fire.
And who would stand upon this word call'd birth?
Heroick souls oft lodge in humble earth.
Si Natura negat facit indignatio versum
Qualemcunque potest—Juv. Sat. 1.
A Map of the World.
THis World's a Theatre whereon are acted
Blind Fortune's plays;
And 'tis so commodiously compacted
It serves alwayes:
Sometimes she represents a Tragick scene
Then party ones;
And then instead of Coruses between
Chants Comick tones:
Thus by vicissitudes her wheel alwayes
Degrades and elevates what spoakes she please.
Just now she'll throw a man into the aire
Of pop lar breath;
Then let him fall into the hell despair
And tempt his death:
Nay I observe those Dung-bred scarabyes
Which hate the light,
Hov'ring upon her wings aloofe i'th' Skyes
Ere it be night:
So blind is Plutus who promoting Braves
Dooms more deserving ones to be their slaves.
Here goes a Gallant hurr'ed on before's
In Fortunes lap,
Who talks of nothing but his hounds or whores,
Or else a clap:
At last he doth repent, when 'tis too late,
That e'er he see one;
When they have brought him to the currish fate
Of poor Acteon.
So Phoebus passing the Merid'an line
Admits no Remora but must decline.
There runs a Poet that's in need of Money
And so pursues him,
Begging for Patronage and Patrimony
Though he abuse him:
Yet still his fancy domineers in spite
And cares not for her,
But flouts at Fortune's foolish favorites
Who thus adore her.
And that's the reason why this purblind whore
Hath Poets doom'd inevitably poor.
Walk o'er the forked hill, I doe not think
There is one there
But out of th' horse's footing used to drink
For want beere.
They'll sing thy praise in hope to gain thereby
Exchange for verse;
Like those that waiting on the Chilterne lye
For passengers.
And when thou do'st returne thoul't say, I know it,
The way to begg'ry's to be first a Poet.
Here sails a Merchant with an eager chase
Pursuing wealth;
Who, so that he can stow it up a pace
Scornes ease or health:
Through stormy seas to both the Indies flyes
To setch home's wares,
And when his Cue of Exit comes he dyes,
And leaves it's heirs.
And they in recompence will let him ly
Perhaps within a tomb of Porphyrie.
There walks a plodding Student beating's brains
About a notion,
Another stands musing on lofty strains
Of Elocution;
A third consumes his oyl and wealth to dive
Hermetick mysteries,
Till at the last perhaps he doth perceive
His gross simplicities,
For the most learned onely come to know
After all's done that they are nothing so.
Here wades a Farmer wearing time and leather
To fill his barnes,
Drives on regarding neither wind nor weather
Nor Nocturne harmes;
Goes to bed late, and antedates the day
To look his sheep,
Where if he misseth one that's gone astray
He cannot sleep;
And after all his breath and labour's spent
Death tells him he must leave his tenement.
There sits a Miser hugging of his chest
Full fraught with treasure,
Who for anxiety can't take his rest
Nor any pleasure;
But as he's casting up's accounts Death comes
And finds him set
And tells him he must lose his ill-gott' sums,
Pay Nature's debt,
And leave what he on Usury hath lent
Unto his heyrs to be profusely spent.
Here lyes a Sould'er clap in massy steel
Upon the ground
Who, when he wakes, for numness cannot feel
His deepest wound;
Then up he gets and toed'ous march assumes
To meet his foes,
Where he perhaps may get some costly plumes
Or else he goes
To bed with's fathers; Thus men strive to have
A toylsome life or honourable grave.
Such is this World which we may well compare
Unto a bubble,
Where ev'ry one that comes takes pains and care
To purchase trouble,
Thinking perhaps it will eternize them,
I can't tell why,
Though they live Nestor or Methusalem
Yet they must dye.
And after th' revolut'on of few yeares
Are quite forgot'as if they never were.
Thus we are sent upon this spac'ous stage
To act our parts,
Some goe off Mutes, others sigh out an age
In ach and smarts.
The Earth is our Proscenium where we
Tire and retire,
(a) Wherefore than th'living happy'r they that be
Long since expir'd,
And than them both such as have never been
Nor these innumerable evills seen.
FINIS