THE PURPLE ISLAND, OR THE ISLE OF MAN TOGETHER WITH PISCATORIE ECLOGUES AND OTHER POETICAL MISCELLANIES  
By P. F.  
¶ Printed by the Printers to the University of CAMBRIDGE. 1633.   

TO MY MOST WORTHY AND LEARNED FRIEND, EDWARD BENLOWES ESQUIRE.  
SIR,  
AS some Optick-glasses, if we look one way, increase the object; if the other, lessen the quantity: Such is an Eye that looks through Affection; It doubles any good, and extenuates what is amiss. Pardon me, Sir, for speaking plain truth; such is that eye whereby you have viewed these raw Essays of my very unripe years, and almost childhood. How unseasonable are Blossoms in Autumn! (unless perhaps in this age, where are more flowers than fruit) I am entering upon my Winter, and yet these Blooms of my first Spring must now show themselves to our ripe wits, which certainly will give them no other entertainment but derision. For myself, I cannot account that worthy of your Patronage, which comes forth so short of my Desires, thereby meriting no other light then the fire. But since you please to have them see more Day than their credit can well endure, marvel not if they fly under your Shadow, to cover them from the piercing eye of this very curious (yet more censorious) age. In letting them abroad I desire only to testify, how much I prefer your desires before mine own, and how much I owe to You more than any other: This if they witness for me, it is all their service I require. Sir, I leave them to your tuition, and entreat you to love him who will contend with you in nothing but to out-love you, and would be known to the world by no other Name, than  
Your true friend, P. F. Hilgay. May 1. 1633.   

To the Readers.  
HE that would learn Theology, must first study Autologie. The way to God is by ourselves: It is a blind and dirty way; it hath many windings, and is easy to be lost: This Poem will make thee understand that way; and therefore my desire is, that thou mayst understand this Poem. Peruse it as thou shouldst thyself, from thy first sheet to thy last. The first view, perchance, may run thy judgement in debt; the second will promise payment; and the third will perform promise. Thou shalt find here Philosophy, and Morality, two curious handmaids, dressing the King's daughter, whose garments smell of Myrrh and Cassia, and being wrought with needlework, and gold, shall make thee take pleasure in her beauty. Here are no blocks for the purblind; no snares for the timorous; no dangers for the bold: I invite all sorts to be readers; all readers to be understanders; all understanders to be happy.  
DANIEL FEATLY. D. D.   

ON THE EXCELLENT MORAL POEM, ENTITLED THE ISLE OF MAN.  

LOrd! how my youth with this vain world hath erred,  
Applauding theirs as th' only happy fate,  
Whom to some Empire blood, choice, chance preferred,  
Or who of learned arts could wisely prate;  
Or travelling the world, had well conferred  
men's natures with the mysteries of state!  
But now thy wiser Muse hath taught me this,  
That these and most men else do aim at bliss;  
But these and most men else do take their aim amiss.   

Reign o'er the world, not o'er this Isle of Man,  
Worse than a slave thou thine own slaves obey'st.  
Study all arts devised since time began,  
And not thyself, thou studiest not, but play'st.  
Out-travell wise Ulysses, (if you can)  
Yet miss this Isle, thou travel'st not, but stray'st.  
Let me (O Lord) but reign o'er mine own heart,  
And master be of this self-knowing art,  
I'll dwell in th' Isle of Man, ne'er travel foreign part.   
E. BENLOWES. E. BENEVOLUS.   


INgeniose tuo ne libro supprime nomen;  
Ingenio Authorem deteget ille suo.  
Nempe verecundo memini te scribere vati,  
Quod pulchrè ingenio quadrat, amice, tuo.   

QVid tuas retegis nimis tegendo  
Noctiluca faces? pates latendo:  
Ipsa es sphaera tuae comésque stellae.  
Diem si repetas, die latebis.  
Non te nox tenebris tegit fovendo,  
Sed te nox tenebris fovendo prodit.    

TO THE LEARNED AUTHOR, SON AND BROTHER TO two judicious Poets, himself the third, not second to either.  

GRave Father of this Muse, thou deemest too light  
To wear thy name, 'cause of thy youthful brain  
It seems a sportful child; resembling right  
Thy witty childhood, not thy graver strain,  
Which now esteems these works of fancy vain.  
Let not thy child, thee living, orphan be;  
Who when th' art dead, will give a life to thee.   

How many barren wits would gladly own,  
How few o'th' pregnantest own such another!  
Thou Father art, yet blushest to be known;  
And though 't may call the best of Muse's Mother,  
Yet thy severer judgement would it smother.  
O judge not Thou, let Readers judge thy book:  
Such Cates should rather please the Guest, then Cook.   

O but thou fear'sted will slain the reverend gown  
Thou wearest now; nay then fear not to show it:  
For were't a stain, 't were natures, not thine own:  
For thou art Poet born; who know thee, know it:  
Thy brother, sire, thy very name's a Poet.  
Thy very name will make these Poems take,  
These very Poems else thy name will make.   
W. BENLOWES.   

TO THE INGENIOUS COMPOSER OF THIS PASTORAL, THE SPENCER of this age.  
I Vow (sweet stranger) if my lazy quill  
Had not been disobedient to fulfil  
My quick desires, this glory which is thine,  
Had but the Muses pleased, had been mine.  
My Genius jumped with thine; the very same  
Was our Foundation: in the very Frame  
Thy Genius jumped with mine; it got the start  
In nothing, but Priority, and Art.  
If (my ingenious Rival) these dull times  
Should want the present strength to prise thy rhymes,  
The time-instructed children of the next  
Shall fill thy margin, and admire the text;  
Whose well read lines will teach them how to be  
The happy knowers of themselves and thee.  
FRAN. QUARLES.   

TO THE UNKNOWN Mr P. F. UPON SURVEY of his ISLE OF MAN.  

REnowned Author, let it not seem strange  
A Merchant's eye Should thus thy Island range:  
It is a Merchant's progress to surround  
The earth, and seek out undiscovered ground.   

What though my foot hath trod the fourfold shore?  
And eyes survaid their subdivided store?  
Yet rarer wonders in this Isle of thine  
I viewed this day, then in twice six years' time.   

justly didst thou, great Macedo, repine  
That thou couldst add no other world to thine.  
He is not truly great, nor stout, who can  
Curb the great world, and not the lesser, Man.   

And 
* American.  thou whose name the Western world imposed  
Upon itself, first by thy skill disclosed;  
Yet is thy skill by this far overcome,  
Who hath descried an unknown World at home:   

A World, which to search out, subdue, and till,  
Is the best object of man's wit, strength, skill:  
A World, where all may dangerless obtain.  
Without long travel, cheapest, greatest gain.   
LOD. ROBERTS.   

ON THE MOST ACCURATE POEM, INSCRIBED THE PURPLE ISLAND.  
HEnceforth let wand'ring Delos cease to boast  
Herself the God of Learning's dearest coast;  
And let that double-headed mountain hollow  
No more the honoured name of great Apollo:  
And may the Pegasean spring, that uses  
To cheer the palates of the thirsty Muses,  
Dry up: and let this happy Isle of thine  
Preserve Apollo's harp; where every line  
Carries a Suada with't, and doth display  
The banners of heaven-born Urania.  
Henceforth let all the world thy verse admire  
Before that Thracean Orpheus charming lyre:  
He but enchanted Beasts, but thy divine  
And higher airs bring Deities to this Isle of thine.  
A. C.   

Man's body's like a house: his greater bones  
Are the main timber; and the lesser ones  
Are smaller splints: his ribs are laths, daubed o'er,  
Plastered with flesh, and blood: his mouth's the door,  
His throat's the narrow entry, and his heart  
Is the great chamber, full of curious art:  
His midriff is a large partition-wall  
'Twixt the great chamber, and the spacious hall:  
His stomach is the kitchen, where the meat  
Is often but half sod, for want of heat:  
His splene's a vessel nature does allot  
To take the scum that rises from the pot:  
His lungs are like the bellows, that respire  
In every office, quickening every fire:  
His nose the chimney is, whereby are vented  
Such fumes as with the bellows are augmented:  
His bowels are the sink, whose part's to drain  
All noisome filth, and keep the kitchen clean:  
His eyes are crystal windows, clear and bright;  
Let in the object, and let out the sight.  
And as the timber is or great, or small,  
Or strong, or weak, 'tis apt to stand, or fall:  
Yet is the likeliest building sometimes known  
To fall by obvious chances; overthrown  
Ofttimes by tempests, by the full-mouthed blasts  
Of heaven; sometimes by fire; sometimes it wastes  
Through unadvised neglect: put case the stuff  
Were ruine-proofe, by nature strong enough  
To conquer time, and age; put case it should  
ne'er know an end, alas our leases would.  
What hast thou then, proud flesh and blood, to boast?  
Thy days are evil, at best; but few, at most;  
But sad, as merriest; and but weak, at strongest;  
Unsure, at surest; and but short, at longest.  
FRAN. QUARLES.   

THE PURPLE ISLAND, OR THE ISLE OF MAN.  

CANT. I. STAN. I.  

THe warmer Sun the golden Bull outran,  
And with the Twins made haste to inn and play:  
Scattering ten thousand flowers, he new began  
To paint the world, and piece the length'ning day:  
(The world more aged by new youths accrueing)  
Ah wretched man this wretched world pursuing,  
Which still grows worse by age, & older by renewing!   

2  
The shepherd-boyes, who with the Muses dwell,  
Met in the plain their May-lords new to choose,  
(For two they yearly choose) to order well  
Their rural sports, and year that next ensues:  
Now were they sat, where by the orchyard walls  
The learned Chame with stealing water crawls,  
And lowly down before that royal temple falls.   

3  
Among the rout they take two gentle swains,  
Whose sprouting youth did now but greenly bud:  
Well could they pipe and sing; but yet their strains  
Were only known unto the silent wood:  
Their nearest blood from selfsame fountains flow,  
Their souls selfsame in nearer love did grow:  
So seemed two joined in one, or one disjoined in two.   

4  
Now when the shepherd-lads with common voice  
Their first consent had firmly ratified,  
A gentle boy thus began to wave their choice;  
Thirsil, (said he) though yet thy Muse untried  
Hath only learned in private shades to feign  
Soft sighs of love unto a loser strain,  
Or thy poor Thelgons wrong in mournful verse to plain;   

5  
Yet since the shepherd-swains do all consent  
To make thee lord of them, and of their art,  
And that choice lad (to give a full content)  
Hath joined with thee in office, as in heart;  
Wake, wake thy long- (thy too long) sleeping Muse,  
And thank them with a song, as is the use:  
Such honour thus conferred thou mayst not well refuse.   

6  
Sing what thou list, be it of Cupid's spite,  
(Ah lovely spite, and spiteful loveliness!)  
Or Gemmas grief, if sadder be thy spirit:  
Begin, thou loved swain, with good success.  
Ah, (said the bashful boy) such wanton toys  
A better mind and sacred vow destroys,  
Since in a higher love I settled all my joys.   

7  
New light new love, new love new life hath bred;  
A life that lives by love, and loves by light:  
A love to him, to whom all loves are wed;  
A light, to whom the Sun is darkest night:  
Eyes light, hearts love, souls only life he is:  
Life, soul, love, heart, light, eye, and all are his:  
He eye, light, heart, love, soul; he all my joy, & bliss.   

8  
But if you deign my ruder pipe to hear,  
(Rude pipe, unused, untuned, unworthy hearing)  
These infantine beginnings gently bear,  
Whose best desert and hope must be your bearing.  
But you, O Muses, by soft Chamus sitting,  
(Your dainty songs unto his murmurs fitting,  
Which bears the under-song unto your cheerful dittying;)   

9  
Tell me, ye Muses, what our father-ages  
Have left succeeding times to play upon:  
What now remains unthought on by those Sages,  
Where a new Muse may try her pineon?  
What lightning Heroes, like great Peleus' heir,  
(Darting his beams through our hard-frozen air)  
May stir up gentle heat, and virtues wane repair?   

10  
Who knows not jason? or bold Tiphys hand,  
That durst unite what Nature's self would part?  
He makes Isle's continent, and all one land;  
O'er seas, as earth, he marched with dangerous art:  
He rides the white-mouthed waves, and scorneth all  
Those thousand deaths wide gaping for his fall:  
He death defies, fenced with a thin, low, wooden wall.   

11  
Who has not often read Troy's twice-sung fires,  
And at the second time twice better sung?  
Who has not heard th' Arcadian shepherds quires,  
Which now have gladly changed their native tongue;  
And sitting by slow Mincius, sport their fill,  
With sweeter voice and never equalled skill,  
Chanting their amorous lays unto a Roman quill?   

12  
And thou, choice wit, Loves scholar, and Love's master,  
Art known to all, where Love himself is known:  
Whether thou bid'st Ulysses hie him faster,  
Or dost thy fault and distant exile moan.  
Who has not seen upon the mourning stage  
Dire Atreus' feast, and wronged Medea's rage,  
Marching in tragic state, and buskined equipage?   

13  
And now of late 
* Sannazar.  th' Italian fisher-swain  
Sits on the shore to watch his trembling line;  
There teaches rocks and prouder seas to plain  
By Nesis fair, and fairer Mergiline:  
While his thin net, upon his oars twined,  
With wanton strife catches the Sun, and wind,  
Which still do slip away, and still remain behind.   

14  
And that 
* Bartas  French Muses eagle eye and wing  
Hath soared to heaven, and there hath learned the art  
To frame Angelic strains, and canzons sing  
Too high and deep for every shallow heart.  
Ah blessed soul! in those celestial rays,  
Which gave thee light these lower works to blaze,  
Thou sittest emparadised, and chant'st eternal lays.   

15  
Thrice happy wits, which in your springing May  
(Warmed with the Sun of well deserved favours)  
Disclose your buds, and your fair blooms display,  
Perfume the air with your rich fragrant favours!  
Nor may, nor ever shall those honoured flowers  
Be spoiled by summer's heat, or winter's showers;  
But last when eating time shall gnaw the proudest towers   

16  
Happy, thrice happy times in silver age?  
When generous plants advanced their lofty crest;  
When honour stooped to be learned wisdoms page;  
When base weeds starved in their frozen nest;  
When th' highest flying Muse still highest climbs;  
And virtues rise keeps down all rising crimes.  
Happy, thrice happy age! happy, thrice happy times!   

17  
But wretched we, to whom these iron days  
(Hard days) afford nor matter, nor reward!  
Sings Maro? men deride high Maro's lays;  
Their hearts with lead, with steel their sense is barred:  
Sing Linus, or his father, as he uses,  
Our Midas ears their well tuned verse refuses.  
What cares an ass for arts? he brays at sacred Muses.   

18  
But if fond Bavius vent his clouted song,  
Or Maevius chant his thoughts in brothel charm;  
The witless vulgar, in a numerous throng,  
Like summer flies about their dunghills swarm:  
They sneer, they grin. Like to his like will move.  
Yet never let them greater mischief prove  
Then this, Who hates not one, may he the other love.   

19  
Witness our 
* Spencer.  Colin; whom though all the Graces,  
And all the Muses nursed; whose well taught song  
Parnassus' self, and Glorian embraces,  
And all the learned, and all the shepherd's throng;  
Yet all his hopes were crossed, all suits denied;  
Discouraged, scorned, his writings vilified:  
Poorly (poor man) he lived; poorly (poor man) he died.   

20  
And had not that great Hart, (whose honoured head  
Ah lies full low) pitied thy woeful plight;  
There hadst thou lain unwept, unburied,  
Unblessed, nor graced with any common rite:  
Yet shalt thou live, when thy great foe shall sink  
Beneath his mountain tomb, whose fame shall stink;  
And time his blacker name shall blur with blackest ink.   

21  
O let th' jambick Muse revenge that wrong,  
Which cannot slumber in thy sheets of lead:  
Let thy abused honour cry as long  
As there be quills to write, or eyes to read:  
On his rank name let thine own votes be turned,  
Oh may that man that hath the Muses scorned,  
Alive, nor dead, be ever of a Muse adorned!   

22  
Oft therefore have I chid my tender Muse;  
Oft my i'll breast beats off her fluttering wing:  
Yet when new spring her gentle rays infuse,  
All storms are laid, I begin to chirp and sing:  
At length soft fires dispersed in every vein,  
Yield open passage to the thronging train,  
And swelling numbers tie rolls like the surging main.   

23  
So where fair Thames, and crooked Isis' son  
Pays tribute to his King, the mantling stream  
Encountered by the tides (now rushing on  
With equal force) of's way doth doubtful seem;  
At length the fullgrown sea, and waters King  
Chide the bold waves with hollow murmuring:  
Back fly the streams to shroud them in their mother spring.   

24  
Yet thou sweet numerous Muse, why shouldst thou droop  
That every vulgar ear thy music scorns?  
Nor can they rise, nor thou so low canst stoop;  
No seed of heaven takes root in mud or thorns.  
When owls or crows, imping their flaggy wing  
With thy stolen plumes, their notes through th' air fling;  
Oh shame! They howl & croak, while fond they strain to sing.   

25  
Enough for thee in heaven to build thy nest;  
(far be dull thoughts of winning dunghill praise)  
Enough, if Kings enthrone thee in their breast,  
And crown their golden crowns with higher bays:  
Enough that those who wear the crown of Kings  
(Great Israel's Princes) strike thy sweetest strings:  
heavens Dove when highest he flies, flies with thy heavenly wings.   

26  
Let others trust the seas, dare death and hell,  
Search either Ind, vaunt of their scars and wounds;  
Let others their dear breath (nay silence) sell  
To fools, and (swollen, not rich) stretch out their bounds  
By spoiling those that live, and wronging dead;  
That they may drink in pearl, and couch their head  
In soft, but sleepless down; in rich, but restless bed.   

27  
Oh let them in their gold quaff dropsies down;  
Oh let them surfeits feast in silver bright:  
While sugar hires the taste the brain to drown,  
And bribes of sauce corrupt false appetite,  
His master's rest, health, heart, life, soul to sell.  
Thus plenty, fullness, sickness, ring their knell:  
Death weds and beds them; first in grave, and then in hell.   

28  
But (ah!) let me under some Kentish hill  
Near rolling Medway 'mong my shepherd peers,  
With fearless merrie-make, and piping still,  
Securely pass my few and slow-paced years:  
While yet the great Augustus of our nation  
Shuts up old janus in this long cessation,  
Strengthening our pleasing ease, and gives us sure vacation.   

29  
There may I, master of a little flock,  
Feed my poor lambs, and often change their fare:  
My lovely mate shall tend my sparing stock,  
And nurse my little ones with pleasing care;  
Whose love and look shall speak their father plain.  
Health be my feast, heaven hope, content my gain:  
So in my little house my lesser heart shall reign.   

30  
The beech shall yield a cool safe canopy,  
While down I fit, and chant to th' echoing wood:  
Ah singing might I live, and singing die!  
So by fair Thames, or silver Medwayes flood,  
The dying swan, when years her temples pierce,  
In music strains breathes out her life and verse;  
And chanting her own dirge tides on her watery hearse.   

31  
What shall I then need seek a patron out,  
Or beg a favour from a mistress eyes,  
To fence my song against the vulgar rout,  
Or shine upon me with her Geminies?  
What care I, if they praise my slender song?  
Or reck I, if they do me right, or wrong?  
A shepherd's bliss nor stands nor falls to every tongue.   

32  
Great prince of shepherds, than thy heavens more high,  
Low as our earth, here serving, ruling there;  
Who taughtest our death to live, thy life to die;  
Who when we broke thy bonds, our bonds wouldst bear;  
Who reignedst in thy heaven, yet feltst our hell;  
Who (God) boughtst man, whom man (though God) did sell;  
Who in our flesh, our graves, (and worse) our hearts wouldst dwell:   

33  
Great Prince of shepherds, thou who late didst deign  
To lodge thyself within this wretched breast,  
(Most wretched breast such guest to entertain,  
Yet oh most happy lodge in such a guest!)  
Thou first and last, inspire thy sacred skill;  
Guide thou my hand, grace thou my artless quill:  
So shall I first begin, so last shall end thy will.   

54  
Hark then, ah hark, you gentle shepheard-crue;  
An Isle I fain would sing, an Island fair;  
A place too seldom viewed, yet still in view;  
Near as ourselves, yet farthest from our care;  
Which we by leaving find, by seeking lost;  
A foreign home, a strange, though native coast;  
Most obvious to all, yet most unkown to most:   

35  
Coëvall with the world in her nativity:  
Which though it now hath passed through many ages,  
And still retained a natural proclivity  
To ruin, compassed with a thousand rages  
Of foeman's spite, which still this Island tosses;  
Yet ever grows more prosperous by her crosses;  
By withering springing fresh, and rich by often losses.   

36  
Vain men, too fond wise, who plough the seas,  
With dangerous pains another earth to find;  
Adding new worlds to th' old, and scorning ease,  
The earth's vast limits daily more unbind!  
The aged world, though now it falling shows,  
And hastes to set, yet still in dying grows.  
Whole lives are spent to win, what one deaths hour must lose.   

37  
How like's the world unto a tragic stage!  
Where every changing scene the actors change;  
Some subject crouch and fawn; some reign and rage:  
And new strange plots brings scenes as new & strange,  
Till most are slain; the rest their parts have done:  
So here, some laugh and play; some weep and groan;  
Till all put of their robes, and stage and actors gone.   

38  
Yet this fair Isle, sited so nearly near,  
That from our sides nor place nor time may sever;  
Though to yourselves your selves are not more dear,  
Yet with strange carelessness you travel never:  
Thus while yourselves and native home forgetting,  
You search far distant worlds with needless sweeting,  
You never find yourselves; so lose ye more by getting.   

39  
When that great Power, that All, far more than all,  
(When now his fore-set time was fully come)  
Brought into act this undigested Ball,  
Which in himself till then had only room;  
He laboured not, nor suffered pain, or ill;  
But bid each kind their several places fill:  
He bid, and they obeyed; their action was his will.   

40  
First stepped the Light, and spread his cheerful rays  
Through all the Chaos; darkness headlong fell,  
Frighted with sudden beams, and newborn days;  
And plunged her ugly head in deepest hell:  
Not that he meant to help his feeble sight  
To frame the rest, he made the day of night:  
All else but darkness; he the true, the only Light.   

41  
Fire, Water, Earth, and Air (that fiercely strove)  
His sovereign hand in strong alliance tied,  
Binding their deadly hate in constant love:  
So that great Wisdom tempered all their pride,  
(Commanding strife and love should never cease)  
That by their peaceful fight, and fight peace,  
The world might die to live, and lessen to increase.   

42  
Thus Earth's cold arm cold Water friendly holds,  
But with his dry the others wet defies:  
Warm Air with mutual love hot Fire infolds;  
As moist, his dryth abhors: dry Earth allies  
With Fire, but heats with cold new wars prepare:  
Yet Earth drenched Water proves, which boiled turns Air;  
Hot Air makes Fire: condensed all change, and home repair.   

43  
Now when the first weeks life was almost spent,  
And this world built, and richly furnished;  
To store heaven's courts, and steer earth's regiment,  
He cast to frame an Isle, the heart and head  
Of all his works, composed with curious art;  
Which like an Index briefly should impart  
The sum of all; the whole, yet of the whole a part.   

44  
That Trine-one with himself in council sits,  
And purple dust takes from the newborn earth;  
Part circular, and part triang'lar fits,  
Endows it largely at the unborn birth,  
Deputes his Favourite Viceroy; doth invest  
With aptness thereunto, as seemed him best;  
And loved it more than all, and more than all it blessed.   

45  
Then placed it in the calm pacific seas,  
And bid nor waves, nor troublous winds offend it;  
Then peopled it with subjects apt to please  
So wise a Prince, made able to defend it  
Against all outward force, or inward spite;  
Him framing like himself, all shining bright;  
A little living Sun, Son of the living Light.   

46  
Nor made he this like other Isles; but gave it  
Vigour, sense, reason, and a perfect motion,  
To move itself whither itself would have it,  
And know what falls within the verge of notion:  
No time might change it, but as ages went,  
So still returned; still spending, never spent;  
Moore rising in their fall, more rich in detriment.   

47  
So once the 
* Delos.  Cradle of that double light,  
Whereof one rules the night, the other day,  
(Till sad Latona flying Juno's spite,  
Her double burden there did safely lay)  
Not rooted yet, in every sea was roving,  
With every wave, and every wind removing;  
But since to those fair Twins hath left her ever moving.   

48  
Look as a scholar, who doth closely gather  
Many large volumes in a narrow place;  
So that great Wisdom all this All together  
Confined into this Islands little space;  
And being one, soon into two he framed it;  
And now made two, to one again reclaimed it;  
The little Isle of Man, or Purple Island named it.   

49  
Thrice happy was the world's first infancy,  
Nor knowing yet, nor curious ill to know:  
Joy without grief, love without jealousy:  
None felt hard labour, or the sweeting plough:  
The willing earth brought tribute to her King;  
Bacchus unborn lay hidden in the cling  
Of big-swollen grapes; their drink was every silver spring.   

50  
Of all the winds there was no difference:  
None knew mild Zephyrs from cold Eurus mouth;  
Nor Orithyia's lovers violence  
Distinguished from the ever-dropping South:  
But either gentle West-winds reigned alone,  
Or else no wind, or harmful wind was none:  
But one wind was in all, and all the winds in one.   

51  
None knew the sea; (oh blessed ignorance!)  
None named the stars, the North cars constant race,  
Taurus bright horns, or Fishes happy chance:  
Astraea yet changed not her name or place;  
Her ev'n-poised balance heaven yet never tried:  
None sought new coasts, nor foreign lands descried;  
But in their own they lived, and in their own they died.   

52  
But (ah!) what liveth long in happiness?  
Grief, of an heavy nature, steady lies,  
And cannot be removed for weightiness;  
But joy, of lighter presence, easily flies,  
And seldom comes, and soon away will go:  
Some secret power here all things orders so,  
That for a sunshine day follows an age of woe.   

53  
Witness this glorious Isle, which not content  
To be confined in bounds of happiness,  
Would try what e'er is in the continent;  
And seek out ill, and search for wretchedness.  
Ah fond, to seek what then was in thy will!  
That needs no curious search; 'tis next us still.  
'Tis grief to know of grief, and ill to know of ill.   

54  
That old sly Serpent, (sly, but spiteful more)  
Vexed with the glory of this happy Isle,  
Allures it subtly from the peaceful shore,  
And with fair painted lies, & coloured guile  
Drenched in 
* More mortuum.  dead seas; whose dark streams, full of fright,  
Empty their sulphur waves in endless night;  
Where thousand deaths and hells torment the damned spirit.   

55  
So when a fisher-swain by chance hath spied  
A big-grown Pike pursue the lesser fry,  
He sets a withy Labyrinth beside,  
And with fair baits allures his nimble eye;  
Which he invading with our-streched fin,  
All suddenly is compassed with the gin,  
Where there is no way out, but easy passage in.   

56  
That deathful lake hath these three properties;  
No turning path, or issue thence is found:  
The captive never dead, yet ever dies;  
It endless sinks, yet never comes to ground:  
Hell's self is pictured in that brimstone wave;  
For what retiring from that hellish grave?  
Or who can end in death, where deaths no ending have?   

57  
For ever had this Isle in that foul ditch  
With cureless grief and endless error strayed,  
Boiling in sulphur, and hot-bubbling pitch;  
Had not the King, whose laws he (fool) betrayed,  
Unsnarled that chain, then from that lake secured;  
For which ten thousand tortures he endured:  
So hard was this lost Isle, so hard to be recured.   

58  
O thou deep well of life, wide stream of love,  
(More deep, more wide than widest deepest seas)  
Who dying, Death to endless death didst prove,  
To work this wilfull-rebell Islands ease;  
Thy love no time began, no time decays;  
But still increaseth with decreasing days:  
Where then may we begin, where may we end thy praise?   

59  
My callow wing, that newly left the nest,  
How can it make so high a towering flight?  
O depth without a depth! in humble breast  
With praises I admire so wondrous height.  
But thou, my 
* A book called Christ's Victory and Triumph.  sister Muse, mayst well go higher,  
And end thy flight; ne'er may thy pinions tyre:  
Thereto may he his grace and gentle heat aspire.   

60  
Then let me end my easier taken story,  
And sing this Islands new recovered sear.  
But see, the eye of noon, in brightest glory,  
(Teaching great men) is ne'er so little great:  
Our panting flocks retire into the glade;  
They crouch, and close to th' earth their horns have laid:  
Veil we our scorched heads in that thick beech's shade.    

CANT. II.  

DEclining Phoebus, as he larger grows,  
(Taxing proud folly) gentler waxeth still;  
Never less fierce, then when he greatest shows;  
When Thirsil on a gentle rising hill  
(Where all his flock he round might feeding view)  
Sits down, and circled with a lovely crew  
Of Nymphs & shepherd-boyes, thus began his song renew:   

2  
Now was this Isle pulled from that horrid main,  
Which bears the fearful looks and name of death;  
And settled new with blood and dreadful pain,  
By him who twice had given (once forfeit) breath:  
A base state than what was first assigned;  
Wherein (to curb the too aspiring mind)  
The better things were lost, the worst were left behind.   

3  
That glorious image of himself was razed;  
Ah! scarce the place of that best part we find:  
And that bright Sunlike knowledge much defaced,  
Only some twinkling stars remain behind:  
Then mortal made; yet as one fainting dies,  
Two other in its place succeeding rise;  
And drooping stock with branches fresh immortalize.   

4  
So that'lone bird in fruitful Arabia,  
When now her strength and waning life decays,  
Upon some airy rock, or mountain high,  
In spiced bed (fired by near Phoebus' rays)  
Herself and all her crooked age consumes:  
Strait from the ashes and those rich perfumes  
A newborn Phoenix flies, & widowed place resumes.   

5  
It grounded lies upon a sure 
a The foundation of the body is the bones. Bones are a similar part of the body, most dry, or cold; made by the virtue generative, through heat of the thicker portion of seed, which is most earthy and Fat for the establishment and figure of the whole.  foundation,  
Compact, and hard; whose matter (cold and dry)  
To marble turns in strongest congelation;  
Framed of fat earth, which fires together tie:  
Through all the Isle, and every part extent,  
To give just form to every regiment;  
Imparting to each part due strength and establishment.   

6  

b A cartilege, or griddle, is of a middle nature betwixt bones, and ligaments or sinews made of the Lime matter, and in the same manner as bones, for variety and safety in motion.  Whose loser ends are glued with brother earth,  
Of nature like, and of a near relation;  
Of selfsame parents both, at selfsame birth;  

c Some of these (even as bones) sustain and uphold some parts  That oft itself stands for a good foundation:  

d Both these are knit with ligaments: A ligament or sinew is of nature between grisles, and nerves, framed of a rough and clammy portion of the seed, for knitting & holding the bones together, & fitting them for motion.  Both these a third doth soldier fast, and bind;  
Softer than both, yet of the selfsame kind;  
All instruments of motion, in one league combined.   

7  
Upon this base a 
e Upon the bones as the foundation, is built the flesh. Flesh is a similar part of the body, soft, ruddy, made of bload indifferently dried, covered with the common membrane or skin.  curious work is raised,  
Like undivided brick, entire and one;  
Though soft, yet lasting, with just balance poised;  
Distributed with due proportion:  
And that the rougher frame might lurk unseen,  
All fair is hung with cover slight and thin;  
Which partly hide it all, yet all is partly seen:   

8  
As when a virgin her snow-circled breast  
Displaying hides, and hiding sweet displays;  
The greater segments covered, and the rest  
The vail transparent willingly betrays;  
Thus takes and gives, thus lends and borrows light:  
Lest eyes should surfeit with too greedy sight,  
Transparent lawns withhold, more to increase delight.   

9  

f The whole body is as it were watered with great plenty of rivers veins▪ arteries, and nerves.  Nor is there any part in all this land,  
But is a little Isle: for thousand brooks  
In azure channels glide on silver sand;  
Their serpent windings, and deceiving crooks  
Circling about, and watering all the plain,  
Empty themselves into th' all-drinking main;  
And creeping forward slide, but never turn again.   

10  
Three differing streams from fountains different,  
Neither in nature nor in shape agreeing,  
(Yet each with other friendly ever went)  
Give to this Isle his fruitfulness and being:  

g A vein is a vessel long, round, hollow, rising from the liver, appointed to contain, conduct, and distribute the blood, It hath but one tunicle, and that thin; the colour of this blood is purple.  The first in single channels skie-like blue,  
With lukewarm waters died in porphyr hue,  
Sprinkle this crimson Isle with purple-coloured dew.   

11  

h An artery is a vessel long, round, hollow, form for conveyance of that more sprightly blood, which is elaborate in the heart. This blood is frothy, yellowish, full of spirits, therefore compassed with a double tunicle, that it might not exhale or sweat out by reason of the thinness  The next, though from the same springs first it rise,  
Yet passing through another greater fountain,  
Doth lose his former name and qualities:  
Through many a dale it flows, and many a mountain;  
More fiery light, and needful more than all;  
And therefore fenced with a double wall,  
All froths his yellow streams with many a sudding fall.   

12  

i A nerve is a spermaticall part rising from the brain and the pith of the backbone, the outside skin, the inside full of pith, carrying the animal spirits for sense and motion and therefore doubly skinned as the brain: none of them single, but run in couples.  The last, in all things differing from the other,  
Fall from an hill, and close together go,  
Embracing as they run, each with his brother;  
Guarded with double trenches sure they flow:  
The coldest spring, yet nature best they have;  
And like the lacteall stones which heaven pave,  
Slide down to every part with their thick milky wave.   

13  

k The veins convey nourishment from the liver, the arteries life and heat from the heart, the nerves sense and motion from the brain. The will commands, the nerve brings, and the part executes the mandate, all almost in an instant.  These with a thousand streams through th' Island roving,  
Bring tribute in; the first gives nourishment,  
Next life, last sense and arbitrary moving:  
For when the Prince hath now his mandate sent,  
The nimble posts quick down the river run,  
And end their journey, though but now begun;  
But now the mandate came, & now the mandate's done.   

14  

l The whole body may be parted into three regions: the lowest, or belly; the middle, or breast, the highest, or head. In the lowest the liver is sovereign, whose regiment is the widest, but meanest. In the middle the heart reigns, most necessary. The brain obtains the highest place, and is as the least in compass, so the greatest in dignity.  The whole Isle, parted in three regiments,  
By three Metropolies is jointly swayed;  
Ordering in peace and war their governments  
With loving concord, and with mutual aid:  
The lowest hath the worst, but largest See;  
The middle less, of greater dignity:  
The highest least, but holds the greatest sovereignty.   

15  
Deep in a vale doth that first province lie,  
With many a city graced, and fairly towned;  
And for a fence from foreign enmity,  

m The parts of the lower region are either the contained, or containing: the containing either common or proper: the common are the skin, the fleshy pannicle, and the far: the proper are the muscles of the bellypiece, or the inner rimme of the belly.  With five strong-builded walls encompassed round;  
Which my rude pencil will in limming stain;  
A work more curious, than which poets feign  
Neptune and Phoebus built, and pulled down again.   

16  

n The skin is a membrane of all the rest the most large, and thick, form of the mixture of seed and blood; the covering, and ornament of parts that are under it: the temper moderate, the proper organ of outward touching (say Physicians.)  The first of these is that round spreading fence,  
Which like a sea girts th' Isle in every part;  
Of fairest building, quick and nimble sense,  
Of common matter framed with special art;  
Of middle temper, outwardest of all,  
To warn of every chance that may befall:  
The same a fence, and spy; a watchman, and a wall.   

17  

o The native colour of the skin is white but (as Hypocrates) changed into the same colour which is brought by the humour predominant. Where melancholy abounds, it is swarthy; where phlegm, it is white, and pale; where choler reigns, it is red, and fiery; but in sanguine of a rosy colour  His native beauty is a lily white,  
Which still some other coloured stream infecteth;  
Lest like itself, with diverse stainings dight,  
The inward disposition detecteth:  
If white, it argues wet; if purple, fire;  
If black, a heavy cheer, and fixed desire;  
Youthful and blithe, if suited in a rosy tire.   

18  

p The skin is covered with the cuticle, or flourishing of the skin, it is the mean of touching▪ without which we feel, but with pain. It polisheth the skin, which many times is changed, and (as it is with snakes) put off, and a new, and more amiable brought in.  It covered stands with silken flourishing,  
Which as it oft decays, renews again,  
The others sense and beauty perfecting;  
Which else would feel, but with unusual pain:  
Whose pleasing sweetness, and resplendent shine,  
Softening the wanton touch, and wand'ring ey'n,  
Doth oft the Prince himself with witch'ries undermine.   

19  

q The fat cometh from the airy portion of the blood; which when it flows to the membranes, by their weak heat (which Physicians account, & call cold) grows thick, and close.  The second rampire of a softer matter,  
Cast up by th' purple river's overflowing:  
Whose airy wave, and swelling waters, fatter  
For want of heat congealed, and thicker growing,  

r The fat increaseth inward heat by keeping it from outward parts, and defends the parts subject to it from bruises.  The wand'ring heat (which quiet ne'er subsisteth)  
Sends back again to what confine it listeth;  
And outward enemies by yielding most resisteth.   

20  

s The fleshy panniele is a membrane very thick, sinewy, woven in with little veins.  The third more inward, firmer than the best,  
May seem at first but thinly built, and slight;  
But yet of more defence than all the rest;  
Of thick and stubborn substance, strongly dight.  
These three (three common fences) round impile  
This regiment, and all the other Isle;  
And saving inward friends, their outward foes beguile.   

21  
Beside these three, 
t The proper parts infolding this lower region are two, the first the muscles of the bellypiece, which are eight four side-long, two right, and two cross.  two more appropriate guards  
With constant watch compass this government:  
The first eight companies in several wards,  
(To each his station in this regiment)  
On each side four, continual watch observe,  
And under one great Captain jointly serve;  
Two foreright stand, two cross, and four obliquely swerve.   

22  

u Peritonaeum (which we call the rimme of the belly) is a thin membrane taking his name from compassing the bowels: round, but longer: every where double, yet so thin, that it may seem but single. It hath many holes, that the veins, arteries, and other needful vessels might have passage both in, & out.  The other framed of common matter, all  
This lower region girts with strong defence;  
More long then round, with double-builded wall,  
Though single often seems to slighter sense;  
With many gates, whose strangest properties  
Protect this coast from all conspiracies;  
Admitting welcome friends, excluding enemies.   

23  

* The double tunicle of the rimme is plainly parted into a large space, that with a double wall it might fence the bladder, where the vessels of the navel are contained. These are four: first, the norse; which is a vein nourishing the infant in the womb: 2, two arteries in which the infant breathes: the fourth, the Outachos, a pipe whereby (while the child is in the womb) the urine is carried into the Allantoid, or rather Amnion▪ which is a membrane receiving the sweat and urine.  Between this fences double-walled sides,  
Four slender brooks run creeping o'er the lee;  
The first is called the Nurse, and rising slides  
From this low regions Metropolie:  
Two from th' Heart-citie bend their silent pace;  
The last from Urine-lake with waters base  
In th' Allantoid sea empties his flowing race.   

24  

x The passages carrying the urine from the kidneys to the bladder. Some action that in the passage stands a curious lid, or cover.  Down in a vale, where these two parted walls  
Differ from each with wide distending space,  
Into a lake the Urine-river falls,  
Which at the Nephros hill begins his race:  
Crooking his banks he often runs astray,  
Left his ill streams might backward find a way:  
Thereto, some say, was built a curious framed bay.   

25  

y The bladder endeth in a neck of Hesh, and is guarded with a muscle which is called Sphincter: which holds in the urine lest it flow away without our permission. If this be loosened, or cold, the urine goes away from us of itself without any feeling.  The Urine-lake drinking his coloured brook,  
By little swells, and fills his stretching sides:  
But when the stream the brink begins overlook,  
A sturdy groom empties the swelling tides;  
Sphincter some call; who if he loosed be,  
Or stiff with cold, out flows the senseless sea,  
And rushing unawares covers the drowned lee.   

26  

z Hence the urine is conveyed through the ordinary passages and cast out.  From thence with blinder passage, (flying name)  
These noisome streams a secret pipe conveys;  
Which though we term the hidden parts of shame,  
Yet for the skill deserve no lesser praise  
Than they, to which we honoured names impart.  
Oh powerful Wisdom, with what wondrous art  
Mad'st thou the best, who thus hast framed the vilest part!   

27  

a Beside the bladder there are six special parts contained in this lower region: the liver, stomach, with the guts; the gall, the spleen, or milt; the kidneys, and parts for generation.  Six goodly Cities, built with suburbs round,  
Do fair adorn this lower region:  

b The stomach (or Koilia) is the first in order though not in dignity.  The first Koilia; whose extremest bound  
On this side bordered by the Splenion,  
On that by sovereign Hepars' large commands:  
The merry Diazome above it stands,  
To both these joined in league & never failing bands.   

28  

c Koilia, or the stomach is long & round, like a bagpipe, made to receive and concoct the meat, and to perfect the Chyle or white juice, which riseth from thee meat concocted.  The form (as when with breath our bagpipes rise,  
And swell) round-wise, and long, yet long-wise more;  
Framed to the most capacious figures guise:  
For 'tis the Islands garner; here its store  
Lies treasured up, which well prepared it sends  
By secret path that to th' Arch-citie bends;  
Which making it more fit, to all the Isle dispends.   

29  
far hence at foot of rocky Cephals hills  
This City's 
d Gustus, the taste, is the caterer, or steward to the stomach, which hath his place in Cephal, that is, the head.  Steward dwells in vaulted stone;  
And twice a day Koilia's store-house fills  
With certain rent, and due provision:  
Aloft he fitly dwells in arched cave;  
Which to describe I better time shall have,  
When that fair mount I sing, & his white curdy wave.   

30  
At that cave's mouth 
e In either chap are sixteen teeth; four cutters, two dog-teeths, or breakers, ten grinders.  twice sixteen Porters stand,  
Receivers of the customary rent;  
Of each side four, (the foremost of the band)  
Whose office to divide what in is sent:  
Strait other four break it in pieces small;  
And at each hand twice five, which grinding all,  
Fit it for convoy, and this city's Arsenal.   

31  
From thence a 
f The tongue with great agility delivers up the meat (well chewed) to the instruments of swallowing: eight muscles serving to this purpose which instantly send the meat through the Oesophagus or meat-pipe into the stomach.  Groom with wondrous volubility  
Delivers all unto near officers,  
Of nature like himself, and like agility;  
At each side four, that are the governor's  
To see the vict'als shipped at fittest tide;  
Which strait from thence with prosperous channel slide,  
And in Koilia's port with nimble oars glide.   

32  
The 
g The upper mouth of the stomach hath little veins, or strings circular, to shut in the meat, and keep it from returning.  haven, framed with wondrous sense and art,  
Opens itself to all that entrance seek;  
Yet if aught back would turn, and thence depart,  
With thousand wrinkles shuts the ready creek:  
But when the rent is slack, it rages rife,  
And mutines in itself with civil strife:  
Thereto a 
h Vas breve, or the short vessel, which sending in a melancholy humour, sharpens the appetite.  little groom eggs it with sharpest knife.   

33  

i In the bottom of the stomach (which is placed in the midst of the belly) is concoction perfected.  Below dwells in this City's marketplace  
The Islands common Cook, Concoction;  
Common to all; therefore in middle space  
Is quartered fit in just proportion,  
Whence never from his labour he retires;  
No rest he asks, or better change requires:  
Both night and day he works, ne'er sleeps, nor sleep desires.   

34  

k The concoction of meats in the stomach is perfected, as by an innate property, and special virtue, so also by the outward heat of parts adjoining. For it is on every side compassed with hotter parts, which as fire to a caldron helps to seethe, and concoct; and the hot steams within it do not a little further digestion.  That heat, which in his furnace ever fumeth,  
Is nothing like to our hot parching fire;  
Which all consuming, self at length consumeth;  
But moistening flames a gentle heat inspire,  
Which sure some inborn neighbour to him dareth;  
And oft the bordering coast fit fuel sendeth,  
And oft the rising fume, which down again descendeth.   

35  
Like to a pot, where under hover  
Divided flames, the iron sides entwining,  
Above is stopped with close-laid covering,  
Exhaling fumes to narrow straits confining;  
So doubling heat, his duty doubly speedeth:  
Such is the fire Concoctions vessel needeth,  
Who daily all the Isle with fit provision feedeth.   

36  
There many a groom the busy Cook attends  
In under offices, and several place:  
This gathers up the scum, and thence it sends  
To be cast out; another liquours base,  
Another garbage, which the kitchen cloys,  
And diverse filth, whose sent the place annoys,  
By diverse secret ways in under-sinks convoys.   

37  

l The lower orifice, or mouth of the stomach, is not placed at the very bottom, but at the side, and is called the (Janitor or) Porter, as sending out the food new concocted through the entrails, which are knotty, and full of windings, left the meat too suddenly passing through the body should make it too subject to appetite and greediness.  Therefore a second Port is sidelong framed,  
To let out what unsavoury there remains:  
There sits a needful groom, the Porter named,  
Which soon the fullgrown kitchen cleanly drains  
By diverse pipes, with hundred turnings giring;  
Lest that the food too speedily retiring,  
Should whet the appetite, still cloyed, & still desiring.   

38  
So Erisychthon once fired (as men say)  
With hungry rage, fed never, ever feeding;  
Ten thousand dishes served in every day,  
Yet in ten thousand, thousand dishes needing,  
In vain his daughter hundred shapes assumed:  
A whole camps meat he in his gorge inhumed;  
And all consumed, his hunger yet was unconsumed.   

39  
Such would the state of this whole Island be,  
If those pipes windings (passage quick delaying)  
Should not refrain too much edacitie,  
With longer stay fierce appetite allaying.  

m It is approved that the entrails dried, and blown, are seven times longer than the body: they are all one entire body, yet their differing substance hath distinguished them into the thin, & thick: the thin have the more noble office.  These pipes are sevenfold longer than the Isle,  
Yet all are folded in a little pile,  
Whereof three noble are, and thin; three thick, & vile.   

40  

n The first is strait without any winding, that the chyle might not return; and most narrow, that it might not find too hasty a passage. It takes in a little passage from the gall, which there purges his choler, to provoke the entrails (when they are slow) to cast out the excrements. This is called Duodenum (or twelve finger) from his length.  The first is narrow'st, and downright doth look,  
Lest that his charge discharged might back retire;  
And by the way takes in a bitter brook,  
That when the chanel's stopped with stifling mire,  
Through th' idle pipe with piercing waters soaking,  
His tender sides with sharpest stream provoking,  
Thrusts out the muddy parts, & rids the miry choking.   

41  

o The second is called the lank or hungry gut, as being more empty than the rest: for the liver being near it sucks out his juice, or cream: it is known from the rest by the red colour.  The second lean and lank, still peeled, and harried  
By mighty bord'rers oft his barns invading:  
Away his food and new-inned store is carried;  
Therefore an angry colour, never fading,  
Purples his cheek: 
p The third called Ilium (or winding) from his many folds and turnings, is of all the longest.  the third for length exceeds,  
And down his stream in hundred turnings leads:  
These three most noble are, adorned with silken threads.   

42  

q The first of the base is called blind: at whose end is an appendent, where if any of the thinner chyle do chance to escape, it is stopped, and by the veins of the midriff sucked out.  The foremost of the base half blind appears;  
And where his broad way in an Isthmos ends,  
There he examines all his passengers,  
And those who ought not scape, he backward sends:  

r The second is Colon (or the tormenter) because of the wind there staying, & vexing the body.  The second Aeols court, where tempests raging  
Shut close within a cave the winds encaging,  
With earthquakes shakes the Island, thunders sad presaging.   

43  

s The last called Rectum, or strait, hath no windings, short, larger toward the end; that the excrement may more easily be ejected, and retained also upon occasion.  The last downright falls to port Esquiline,  
More straight above, beneath still broader growing;  
Soon as the gate opes by the Kings assign,  
Empties itself, far thence the filth out-throwing:  
This gate endowed with many properties,  
Yet for his office sight and naming flies;  
Therefore between two hills, in darkest valley lies.   

44  

t The thin entrails serve for the carrying, & through-concocting of the chyle: the thicker for the gathering, and containing the excrements.  To that Arch-citie of this government  
The three first pipes the ready feast convoy:  
The other three, in base office spent,  
Fling out the dregs, which else the kitchen cloy.  

u They are all sprinkled with numberless little veins, that no part of the chyle might escape till all be brought to the liver.  In every one the Hepar keeps his spies;  
Who if aught good with evil blended lies,  
Thence bring it back again to Hepars' treasuries.   

45  
Two several covers fence these twice three pipes:  

x Epiploon (or Overswimmer) descends below the navel; and ascends above the highest entrails, of skinny substance all interlaced with fat.  The first from over-swimming takes his name,  
Like cobweb-lawn woven with hundred stripes:  

y The Mesenterium (or midst amongst the entrails, whence it takes the name) ties and knits the entrails together: it hath a double tunicle.  The second, strengthened with a double frame,  
From foreign enmity the pipes maintains:  

z Pancreas (or All flesh, for so it seems) is laid as a pillow under the stomach; and sustains the veins that are dispread from the gate-vein.  Close by the Pancreas stands, who ne'er complains;  
Though pressed by all his neighbours, he their state sustains.   

46  
Next Hepar, chief of all these lower parts,  
One of the three, yet of the three the least.  
But see, the Sun, like to undaunted hearts,  
Enlarges in his fall his ample breast:  
Now hie we home; the pearled dew ere long  
Will wet the mothers, and their tender young:  
To morrow with the day we may renew our song.    

CANT. III.  

THe Morning fresh, dappling her horse with roses,  
(Vexed at the lingering shades, that long had left her  
In Tithonus' freezing arms) the light discloses;  
And chase Night, of rule and heaven bereft her:  
The Sun with gentle beams his rage disguises,  
And like aspiring tyrants, temporises;  
Never to be endured, but when he falls, or riseth.   

2  
Thirsil from withy prison, as he uses,  
Le's out his flock, and on an hill stood heeding  
Which bites the grass, and which his meat refuses;  
So his glad eyes fed with their greedy feeding:  
Strait flock a shoal of Nymphs & shepherd-swains  
While all their lambs ranged on the flowery plains;  
Then thus the boy began, crowned with their circling trains.   

3  
You gentle shepherds, and you snowy fires,  
That sit around, my rugged rhymes attending;  
How may I hope to quit your strong desires,  
In verse uncombed such wonders comprehending?  
Too well I know my rudeness all unfit  
To frame this curious Isle, whose framing yet  
Was never throughly known to any humane wit.   

4  
Thou Shepherd-God, who only knowst it right,  
And hidest that art from all the world beside;  
Shed in my misty breast thy sparkling light,  
And in this fog my erring footsteps guide;  
Thou who first mad'st, and never wilt forsake it:  
Else how shall my weak hand dare undertake it,  
When thou thyself ask'st counsel of thyself to make it?   

5  
Next to Koilia, on the right side stands,  
Fairly dispread in large dominion,  
Th' 
a Of all this lower region the Hepar, or liver, is the principal. The situation strong and safe, walled in by the ribs.  Arch-citie Hepar, stretching her commands  
To all within this lower region;  
Fenced with sure bars, and strongest situation;  
So never fearing foreiners invasion:  
Hence are the 
b It is covered with one single cunicle; & that very thin, and slight.  walls slight, thin; built but for sight & fashion.   

6  

c The liver is tied to the heart by arteries, to the head by nerves, and to both by veins dispersed to both.  To th' Heart and to th' head-city surely tied  
With firmest league, and mutual reference:  
His leigers there, theirs ever here abide,  
To take up strife, and casual difference:  

d The liver consists of no ordinary flesh, but of a kind proper to itself.  Built all alike, seeming like rubies sheen,  
Of some peculiar matter; such I ween,  
As over all the world may no where else be seen.   

7  

e The livers upper part rises & swells gently; is very smooth, and even; the lower in the outside like to an hollow rock, rugged & craggy.  Much like a mount it easily ascendeth;  
The upper part's all smooth as slippery glass:  
But on the lower many a crag dependeth;  
Like to the hangings of some rocky mass:  

f From it rise all the springs of blood, which runs in the veins.  Here first the purple fountain making vent,  
By thousand rivers through the Isle dispent,  
Gives every part fit growth and daily nourishment.   

8  

g The steward of the whole Isle is here fitly placed, because as all (that is brought in) is here fitted, and disposed, so from hence returned, and dispensed.  In this fair town the Isles great Steward dwells;  
His porphyre house glitters in purple die;  
In purple clad himself: from hence he deals  
His store to all the Isles necessity:  
And though the rent he daily duly pay,  
Yet doth his flowing substance ne'er decay;  
All day he rend receives, returns it all the day.   

9  
And like that golden star, which cuts his way  
Through Satur's ice, and Mars his fiery ball;  
Tempering their strife with his more kindly ray:  
So between the Splenions frost and th' angry Gall  
The jovial Hepar sits; with great expense  
Cheering the Isle by his sweet influence;  
So slakes their envious rage and endless difference.   

10  
Within, some say, 
h Here Plato disposed the seat of love. And certainly though lust (which some perversely call love) be otherwhere seated, yet that affection whereby we wish, and do well to others, may seem to be better fitted in the liver, then in the heart, (where most do place it) because this moderate heat appears more apt for this affection; and fires of the heart where (as a Salamander) anger lives, seem not so fit to entertain it.  Love hath his habitation;  
Not Cupid's self, but Cupid's better brother:  
For Cupid's self dwells with a lower nation,  
But this more sure, much chaster than the other;  
By whose command we either love our kind,  
Or with most perfect love affect the mind;  
With such a diamond knot he often souls can bind.   

11  

i Hence rise the two great rivers of blood, of which all the rest are lesser streams: The first is Porta, or the gate-vein, issuing from the hollow part and is shed toward the stomach, spleen, guts, and the Epiploon. The second is Cava, the hollow vein, spreading his river over all the body.  Two purple streams here raise their boiling heads;  
The first and least in th' hollow cavern breeding,  
His waves on diverse neighbour grounds dispreads:  
The next fair river all the rest exceeding,  
Topping the hill, breaks forth in fierce evasion,  
And sheds abroad his Nile-like inundation;  
So gives to all the Isle their food and vegetation.   

12  
Yet these from other streams much different;  
For others, as they longer, broader grow;  
These as they run in narrow banks impent,  
Are then at least, when in the main they flow:  
Much like a tree, which all his roots so guides,  
That all the trunk in his full body hides;  
Which strait his stem to thousand branches subdivides.   

13  

k The chyle, or juice of meats concocted in the stomach could not all be turned into sweet blood by reason of the diverse kinds of humours in it: Therefore there are three kinds of excremental liquors sucked away by little vessels, and carried to their appointed places: one too light, and fiery; an other too earthy, and heavy; a third wheyish and watery.  Yet lest these streams might hap to be infected  
With other liquours in the well abounding;  
Before their flowing channels are detected,  
Some lesser delves, the fountains bottom sounding,  
Suck out the base streams, the springs annoying,  
An hundred pipes unto that end employing;  
Thence run to fitter place their noisome load convoying.   

14  
Such is fair Hepar; 
l Famous the controversy between the Peripatetics, and Physicians: one holding the heart, the other the liver to be first. That the liver is first in time and making, is manifest; because the Nurse (the vein that feeds the infant yet in the womb) empties itself upon the liver.  which with great dissension  
Of all the rest pleads most antiquity;  
But yet th' Heart-citie with no less contention,  
And justest challenge, claims priority:  
But sure the Hepar was the elder boar;  
For that small river, called the Nurse, of yore  
Laid boths foundation, yet Hepar built afore.   

15  
Three poisonous liquours from this purple well  
Rise with the native streams; 
m The first excrement drawn from the liver to the gall is choleric, bitter, like flame in colour; which were it not removed, and kept in due place, would fill all the body with bitterness, and gnawing.  the first like fire,  
All flaming hot, red, furious, and fell,  
The spring of dire debate, and civil ire;  
Which were't not surely held with strong retention,  
Would stir domestic strife, and fierce contention,  
And waste the weary Isle with never ceased dissension.   

16  
Therefore close by a little conduit stands,  

n Choledochus or the Gall, is of a membranous substance, having but one, yet that a strong tunicle. It hath two passages, one drawing the humour from the liver, another conveying the overplus into the first gut, and so emptying the gall. And this fence hath a double gate to keep the liquor from returning.  Choledochus, that drags this poison hence,  
And safely locks it up in prison bands;  
Thence gently drains it through a narrow fence;  
A needful fence, attended with a guard,  
That watches in the straits all closely barred,  
Lest some might back escape, and break the prison ward.   

17  
The 
o The second ill humour is earthy, and heavy, which is drawn from the liver by little vessels unto the spleen the native seat of melancholy, here some have placed laughter: but the spleen seems rather the seat of malice and heaviness.  next ill stream the wholesome fount offending,  
All dreary black and frightful, hence conveyed  
By diverse drains unto the Splenion tending,  
The Splenion o'er against the Hepar laid,  
Built long, and square: some say that laughter here  
Keeps residence; but laughter fits not there,  
Where darkness ever dwells, and melancholy fear.   

18  

p If the spleen should fail in this office, the whole body would be filled with melancholy fancies, and vain terrors.  And should these ways, stopped by ill accident,  
To th' Hepar streams turn back their muddy humours;  
The cloudy Isle with hellish dreariment  
Would soon be filled, and thousand fearful rumours:  
Fear hides him here, locked deep in earthy cell;  
Dark, doleful, deadly-dull, a little hell;  
Where with him fright, despair, and thousand horrors dwell.   

19  

q Where the spleen flourishes, and the body decays, and withers; where the spleen is kept down, the body flourishes. Hence Stratonicus merrily said, that in Crete dead men walked, because they were so splenitive, and pale-coloured.  If this black town in over-growth increases,  
With too much strength his neighbours over-bearing;  
The Hepar daily, and whole Isle decreases,  
Like ghastly shade, or ashy ghost appearing:  
But when it pines, th' Isle thrives; its curse, his blessing:  

r Trajan compared the spleen to his exchequer: because as his coffers being full drained his subjects purses, so the full spleen makes the body sapless.  So when a tyrant raves, his subjects pressing,  
His gaining is their loss, his treasure their distressing.   

20  

s The watery humour with some good blood (which is spent for the nourishment of those parts) is drawn by the kidneys.  The third bad water, bubbling from this fountain,  
Is wheyish cold, which with good liquours meint,  
Is drawn into the double Nephros mountain;  
Which suck the best for growth, and nourishment:  

t The Ureters receive the water separated from the blood, as distilled from little fleshy substances in the kidneys, like to teats.  The worst, as through a little pap, distilling  
To diverse pipes, the pale cold humour swilling,  
Runs down to th' Urine-lake, his banks thrice daily filling.   

21  

u The kidneys are both alike; the left somewhat higher: both have a double skin, and both compassed with fat.  These mountains differ but in situation;  
In form and matter like: the left is higher,  
Left even height might slack their operation:  
Both like the Moon which now wants half her fire;  
Yet into two obtuser angel's bended,  
Both strongly with a double wall defended;  
And both have walls of mud before those walls extended.   

22  
The sixth and last town in this region,  
With largest stretched precincts, and compass wide,  
Is that, where Venus and her wanton son  
(Her wanton Cupid) will in youth reside:  
For though his arrows and his golden bow  
On other hills he frankly does bestow,  
Yet here he hides the fire with which each heart doth glow.   

23  
For that great Providence, their course foreseeing  
Too easily led into the sea of death;  
After this first, gave them a second being,  
Which in their offspring newly flourisheth:  
He therefore made the fire of generation  
To burn in Venus courts without cessation,  
Out of whose ashes comes another Island nation.   

24  
For from the first a fellow Isle he framed,  
(For what alone can live, or fruitful be?)  
Arren the first, the second Thelu named;  
Weaker the last, yet fairer much to see:  
Alike in all the rest, here disagreeing,  
Where Venus and her wanton have their being:  
For nothing is produced of two in all agreeing.   

25  
But though some few in these hid parts would see  
Their Maker's glory, and their justest shame;  
Yet for the most would turn to luxury,  
And what they should lament, would make their game:  
Fly then those parts, which best are undescried;  
Forbear, my maiden song, to blazon wide  
What th' Isle and Nature's self doth ever strive to hide.   

26  
These two fair Isles distinct in their creation,  
Yet one extracted from the others side,  
Are oft made one by Love's firm combination,  
And from this unity are multiplied:  
Strange may it seem; such their condition,  
That they are more dispread by union;  
And two are twenty made, by being made in one.   

27  
For from these two in Love's delight agreeing,  
Another little Isle is soon proceeding;  
At first of unlike frame and matter being,  
In Venus' temple takes it form and breeding;  
Till at full time the tedious prison flying,  
It breaks all lets its ready way denying;  
And shakes the trembling Isle with often painful dying.   

28  
So by the Bosphor straits in Euxine seas,  
Not far from old Byzantum, closely stand  
Two neighbour Islands, called Symplegades,  
Which sometime seem but one combined land:  
For often meeting on the watery plain,  
And parting oft, tossed by the boisterous main,  
They now are joined in one, and now disjoined again.   

29  
Here oft not Lust, but sweetest Chastity,  
Coupled sometimes, and sometimes single, dwells;  
Now linked with Love, to quench Lust's tyranny,  
Now Phoenixlike alone in narrow cells:  
Such Phoenix one, but one at once may be:  
In Albion's hills thee, Basilissa, thee,  
Such only have I seen, such shall I never see.   

30  
What Nymph was this, (said fairest Rosaleen)  
Whom thou admirest thus above so many?  
She, while she was, (ah!) was the shepherd's Queen;  
Sure such a shepherd's Queen was never any:  
But (ah!) no joy her dying heart contented,  
Since she a dear Deres side unwilling rent;  
Whose death she all too late, too soon, too much, repent.   

31  
Ah royal maid! why shouldst thou thus lament thee?  
Thy little fault was but too much believing:  
It is too much so much thou shouldst repent thee;  
His joyous soul at rest desires no grieving.  
These words (vain words!) fond comforters did lend her;  
But (ah!) no words, no prayers might ever bend her  
To give an end to grief, till endless grief did end her.   

32  
But how should I those sorrows dare display?  
Or how limb forth her virtue's wonderment?  
She was (ay me! she was) the sweetest May  
That ever flowered in Albion's regiment.  
Few eyes fallen lights adore: yet fame shall keep  
Her name awake, when others silent sleep;  
While men have ears to hear, eyes to look back, and weep.   

33  
And though the curs (which whelped & nursed in Spain,  
Learn of fell Geryon to snarl and brawl)  
Have vowed and strove her Virgin tomb to slain;  
And grin, and foam, and rage, and yelp, and bawl:  
Yet shall our Cynthia's high-triumphing light  
Deride their howling throats, and toothless spite;  
And sail through heaven, while they sink down in endless night.   

34  
So is this Islands lower region:  
Yet ah much better is it sure then so.  
But my poor reeds, like my condition,  
(Low is the shepherd's state, my song as low)  
Mar what they make: but now in yonder shade  
Rest we, while Suns have longer shadows made:  
See how our panting flocks run to the cooler glade.    

CANT. IIII  

THe shepherds in the shade their hunger feasted  
With simple cates, such as the country yields;  
And while from scorching beams secure they rested,  
The Nymphs dispersed along the woody fields,  
Pulled from their stalks the blushing strawberries,  
Which lurk close shrouded from high looking-eyes;  
Showing that sweetness oft both low and hidden lies.   

2  
But when the day had his meridian run  
Between his highest throne, and low declining;  
Thirsil again his forced task begun,  
His wont audience his sides entwining.  
The middle Province next this lower stands,  
Where th' Isle's Heart-city spreads his large commands,  
Leagued to the neighbour towns with sure and friendly bands.   

3  
Such as that star, which sets his glorious chair  
In midst of heaven, and to dead darkness here  
Gives light and life; such is this city fair:  
Their ends, place, office, state, so nearly near,  
That those wise ancients from their nature's sight,  
And likeness, turned their names, and called aright  
The sun the great world's heart, the heart the less world's light.   

4  

a The heart is the seat of heat, and life; therefore walled about with the ribs, for more safety.  This middle coast to all the Isle dispends  
All heat and life: hence it another Guard  
(Beside those common to the first) defends;  
Built whole of massy stone, cold, dry, and hard:  
Which stretching round about his circling arms,  
Warrants these parts from all exterior harms;  
Repelling angry force, securing all alarms.   

5  
But in the front 
b The breasts, or paps, are given to men for strength, and ornament; to women, for milk and nursery also.  two fair twin-bulwarks rise,  
In th' Arren built for strength, and ornament;  
In Thelu of more use, and larger size;  
For hence the young Isle draws his nourishment:  
Here lurking Cupid hides his bended bow;  
Here milky springs in sugared rivers flow;  
Which first gave th' infant Isle to be, and then to grow.   

6  

c When the infant grows big, he so oppresseth the vessels of blood, that partly through the readiness of the passage, but especially by the providence of God, the blood turns back to the breast, & there by an innate but wonderful faculty is turned into milk.  For when the lesser Island (still increasing  
In Venus' temple) to some greatness swells,  
Now larger rooms and bigger spaces seizing,  
It stops the Hepar rivers; backward reels  
The stream, and to these hills bears up his flight,  
And in these founts (by some strange hidden might)  
Dies his fair rosy waves into a lily white.   

7  
So where fair Medway, down the Kentish dales  
To many towns her plenteous waters dealing,  
Lading her banks, into wide Thamis falls;  
The big-grown main with foamy billows swelling,  
Stops there the sudding stream; her steady race  
Staggers awhile, at length flies back apace,  
And to the parent fount returns its fearful pace.   

8  

d The breasts are in figure hemisphericall; whose tops are crowned with the teats, about which are reddish circles, called (Areolae, or) little altars.  These two fair mounts are like two hemispheres,  
Endowed with goodly gifts and qualities;  
Whose top two little purple hillocks rears,  
Most like the Poles in heavens Axletrees:  
And round about two circling altars gyre,  
In blushing red; the rest in snowy tire  
Like Thracian Haemus' looks, which ne'er feels Phoebus' fire   

9  
That mighty hand in these dissected wreathes,  
(Where moves our Sun) his thrones fair picture gives;  
The pattern breathless, but the picture breathes;  
His highest heaven is dead, our low heaven lives:  
Nor scorns that lofty one thus low to dwell;  
Here his best stars he sets, and glorious cell;  
And fills with saintly spirits, so turns to heaven from hell.   

10  
About this Region round in compass stands  
A Guard, both for defence, and respiration,  

e In the Thorax or breast, are sixty five muscles for respiration, or breathing, which is either free, or forced: The instruments of forced breathing are sixty four, whereof thirty two distend, and as many contract it.  Of sixty four, parted in several bands;  
Half to let out the smoky exhalation,  
The other half to draw in fresher winds:  
Beside both these, a third of both their kinds,  
That lets both out, & in; which no enforcement binds.   

11  
This third the merry 
f The instrument of the free breathing is the Diazome or Diaphragme, which we call the midriff, as a wall parting the heart and liver: Plato affirms it a partition between the seats of desire, and anger. Aristotle, a bar to keep the noisome odour of the stomach from the heart.  Diazome we call,  
A border-citie these two coasts removing;  
Which like a balk, with his crosse-builded wall,  
Disparts the terms of anger, and of loving;  
Keeps from th' Heart-citie fuming kitchen fires,  
And to his neighbours gentle winds inspires;  

g The midriff dilates itself when it draws in, contracts itself when it puffs out the air.  Lose when he sucks in air, contract when he expires.   

12  

h The midriff consists of two circles, one skinny, the other fleshy. It hath two tunicles, as many veins and arteries, and four nerves.  The Diazome of several matter's framed:  
The first moist, soft; harder the next, and drier:  
His fashion like the fish a Raia named;  
Fenced with two walls, one low, the other higher;  
By eight streams watered; two from Hepar low,  
And from th' Heart-town as many higher go;  
But two twice told down from the Cephal mountain flow.   

13  

i Here most men have placed the seat of laughter: It hath much sympathy with the brain, so that if the midriff be inflamed, present madness easues it.  Here sportful Laughter dwells, here ever sitting,  
Defies all lumpish griefs, and wrinkled care;  
And twenty merrie-mates mirth causes fitting,  
And smiles, which Laughters sons, yet infants are.  
But if this town be fired with burnings nigh,  
With selfsame flames high Cephals towers fry;  
Such is their feeling love, and loving sympathy.   

14  
This coast stands girt with a 
k Within, the Pleura (or skin which clotheth the ribs on the inside) compasses this middle region.  peculiar wall,  
The whole precinct, and every part defending:  

l The chiefest part of this middle region is the Heart, placed in the midst of this province, and of the whole body: fitly was it placed in the midst of all, as being of all the most needful.  The chiefest City, and Imperial,  
Is fair Kerdia, far his bounds extending;  
Which full to know were knowledge infinite:  
How then should my rude pen this wonder write,  
Which thou, who only mad'st it, only knowst aright?   

15  
In middle of this middle Regiment  
Kerdia seated lies, the centre deemed  
Of this whole Isle, and of this government:  
If not the chiefest this, yet needful'st seemed,  
Therefore obtained an equal distant seat,  
More fitly hence to shed his life and heat,  
And with his yellow streams the fruitful Island wet.   

16  

m The Heart is immured partly by a membrane going round about it, (and thence receiving his name) and a peculiar tunicle; partly with an humour like whey or urine, as well to cool the heart, as to lighten the body.  Flankt with two several walls (for more defence)  
Betwixt them ever flows a wheyish moat;  
In whose soft waves, and circling profluence  
This City, like an Isle, might safely float:  
In motion still (a motion fixed, not roving)  
Most like to heaven in his most constant moving:  
Hence most here plant the seat of sure and active loving.   

17  
Built of a substance like smooth porphyry;  

n The flesh of the heart is proper and peculiar to itself, not like other muscles; of a figure pyramicall. The point of the heart is (as with a diadem (girt with two arteries, and a vein, called the crowns.  His matter hid, and (like itself) unknown:  
Two rivers of his own; another by,  
That from the Hepar rises, like a crown,  
Enfold the narrow part: for that great All  
This his works glory made pyramicall;  
Then crowned with triple wreath, & clothed in scarlet pall.   

18  
The City's self in two 
o Though the heart be an entire body, yet it is severed into two partitions, the right, and left; of which the left is more excellent and noble.  partitions reft,  
That on the right, this on the other side:  

p The right receives into his hollowness the blood flowing from the liver, and concocts it.  The right (made tributary to the left)  
Brings in his pension at his certain tide,  
A pension of liquours strangely wrought;  
Which first by Hepars' streams are hither brought,  
And here distilled with art, beyond or words or thought   

19  

q This right side sends down to the lungs that part of this blood which is less laboured, and thicker; but the thinner part it sweats through a fleshy partition into the left side.  The grosser waves of these life-streams (which here  
With much, yet much less labour is prepared)  
A doubtful channel doth to Pneumon bear:  
But to the left those laboured extracts shared,  

r This fleshy partition severs the right side from the left; at first it seems thick, but if it be well viewed, we shall see it full of many pores, or passages.  As through a wall, with hidden passage slide;  
Where many secret gates (gates hardly spied)  
With safe convoy give passage to the other side.   

20  
At each hand of the left 
s Two skinny additions (from their likeness called the ears) receive, the one the thicker blood, (that called the right) the other (called the left) takes in the air sent by the lungs.  two streets stand by,  
Of several stuff, and several working framed,  
With hundred crooks, and deep-wrought cavity:  
Both like the ears in form, and so are named.  
I'th' right hand street the tribute liquor sitteth:  
The left forced air into his concave getteth;  
Which subtle wrought, & thin, for future workmen sitteth.   

21  
The Cities 
t The left side of the heart takes in this air, and blood; and concocting them both in his hollow bosom, sends them out by the great artery into the whole body.  left side, (by some hid direction)  
Of this thin air, and of that right sides rend,  
(Compound together) makes a strange confection;  
And in one vessel both together meynt,  
Stills them with equal never-quenched firing:  
Then in small streams (through all the Island wiring)  
Sends it to every part, both heat and life inspiring.   

22  

u In the heart are four great vessels: the first is the hollow vein bringing in the blood from the liver; at whose mouth stand three little folding doors, with three forks giving passage, but no return to the blood.  In this Heart-citie four main streams appear;  
One from the Hepar, where the tribute landeth,  
Largely pours out his purple river here;  
At whose wide mouth a band of Tritons standeth,  
(Three Tritons stand) who with their three-forkt mace  
Drive on, and speed the rivers flowing race,  
But strongly stop the wave, if once it back repace.   

23  

* The second vessel is called the arterie-vein, which rising from the right side of the heart, carries down the blood here prepared to the lungs for their nourishment. Here also is the like three-folding door, made like half circles; giving passage from the heart, but not backward.  The second is that doubtful channel, lending  
Some of this tribute to the Pneumon nigh;  
Whose springs by careful guards are watched, that sending  
From thence the waters, all regress deny:  

x The third is called the Veiny artery, rising from the left side, which hath two folds three-forked.  The third unlike to this, from Pneumon flowing,  
And his due ayer-tribute here bestowing,  
Is kept by gates and bars, which stop all backward going.   

24  

y The fourth is the great artery. This hath also a floudgate made of three semicircular membranes, to give out load to the virall spirits, and stop their regress.  The last full spring out of this left side rises,  
Where three fair Nymphs, like Cynthia's self appearing,  
Draw down the stream which all the Isle suffices;  
But stop back-ways, some ill revolture fearing.  
This river still itself to less dividing,  
At length with thousand little brooks runs sliding,  
His fellow course along with Hepar channels guiding.   

25  

z The Heart is the fountain of life and heat to the whole body, and the seat of passions.  Within this City is the palace framed,  
Where life, and life's companion, heat, abideth;  
And their attendants, passions untamed:  
(Oft very hell in this straight room resideth)  
And did not neighbouring hills, cold airs inspiring,  
Alloy their rage and mutinous conspiring,  
Heat all (it self and all) would burn with quenchless firing.   

26  
Yet that great Light, by whom all heaven shines  
With borrowed beams, oft leaves his lofty skies,  
And to this lowly seat himself confines.  
Fall then again, proud heart, now fall to rise:  
Cease earth, ah cease, proud Babel earth, to swell:  
Heaven blasts high towers, stoops to a low-rooft cell;  
First heaven must dwell in man, than man in heaven shall dwell.   

27  
Close to Kerdia 
a The Pneumon (or lungs) is nearest the heart, whose flesh is light, and spongy, very large. It is the instrument of breathing, and speaking, divided into many parcels, yet all united into one body.  Pneumon takes his seat,  
Built of a lighter frame, and spongy mould:  
Hence rise fresh airs to fan Kerdia's heat;  
Tempering those burning fumes with moderate cold:  
Itself of largest size, distended wide,  
In diverse streets and outways multiplied:  
Yet in one Corporation all are jointly tied.   

28  
Fitly 't is clothed with hangings 
b The Lungs are covered with a light & very thin tunicle, left it might be an hindrance to the motion.  thin and light,  
Lest too much weight might hinder motion:  
His chiefest use to frame the voice aright;  
(The voice which publishes each hidden notion)  
And for that end 
c The windpipe, which is framed partly of cartilege, or grissy matter, because the voice is perfected with hard & smooth things, (these cartilages are compassed like a ring) partly of skin, which tie the grisles together.  a long pipe down descends,  
(Which here itself in many lesser spends)  
Until low at the foot of Cephal mount it ends.   

29  
This pipe was built for th' airs safe purveiance,  
To fit each several voice with perfect sound;  
Therefore of diverse matter the conveyance  
Is finely framed; the first in circles round,  
In hundred circles bended, hard and dry,  
(For watery softness is sounds enemy)  
Not altogether close, yet meeting very nigh.   

30  
The seconds drith and hardness somewhat less,  
But smooth and pliable made for extending,  
Fills up the distant circles emptiness;  
All in one body jointly comprehending:  

d And because the rings of the grifles do not wholly meet, this space is made up by muscles, that so the meat-pipe adjoining might not be galled, or hurt.  The last most soft, which where the circles scanted  
Not fully met, supplies what they have wanted,  
Not hurting tender parts, which next to this are planted   

31  

e The Larynx, or covering of the windpipe, is a grisly substance, parted into four grisles of which the first is ever unmoved, and in women often double.  Upon the top there stands the pipes safe covering,  
Made for the voices better modulation:  
Above it fourteen careful warders hover,  
Which shut and open it at all occasion:  
The cover in four parts itself dividing,  
Of substance hard, fit for the voices guiding;  
One still unmoved (in Thelu double oft) residing.   

32  

f Adjoining to it is the Oesophagus, or meat-pipe▪ conveying meats and drinks to the stomach.  Close by this pipe runs that great channel down,  
Which from high Cephals mount twice every day  
Brings to Koilia due provision:  

g At whose end is the Epiglottis, or cover of the throat, the principal instrument of tuning, and apting the voice: & therefore grisly, that it might sooner fall when we swallow, and rise when we breathe.  Strait at whose mouth a floodgate stops the way,  
Made like an Ivy leaf, broad-angle-fashion;  
Of matter hard, fitting his operation,  
For swallowing soon to fall, and rise for inspiration.   

33  
But see, the smoke mounting in village nigh,  
With folded wreaths steals through the quiet air;  
And mixed with dusky shades in Eastern sky,  
Begins the night, and warns us home repair:  
Bright Vesper now hath changed his name and place,  
And twinkles in the heaven with doubtful face:  
Home then my full-fed lambs; the night comes, home apace.    

CANT. V.  

BY this the old night's head (grown hoary grey)  
Foretold that her approaching end was near;  
And gladsome birth of young succeeding day  
Lent a new glory to our Hemisphere:  
The early swains salute the infant ray;  
Then drove the dams to feed, the lambs to play:  
And Thirsil with night's death revives his morning lay.   

2  
The highest region in this little Isle  
Is both the Islands and Creators' glory:  
Ah then, my creeping Muse, and rugged style,  
How dare you pencil out this wondrous story?  
Oh thou that mad'st this goodly regiment,  
So heavenly fair, of basest element,  
Make this inglorious verse thy glory's instrument.   

3  
So shall my flagging Muse to heaven aspire,  
Where with thyself thy fellow-shepherd sits;  
And warm her pinions at that heavenly fire;  
But (ah!) such height no earthly shepherd fits:  
Content we here low in this humble vale  
On slender reeds to sing a slender tale.  
A little boat will need as little sail and gale.   

4  

a The head of these three regions is the least, but noblest in frame, and officer: most like to heaven as well in site, being highest in this style world, as also in figure, being round.  The third precinct, the best and chief of all,  
Though least in compass, and of narrow space,  
Was therefore framed like heaven, spherical,  
Of largest figure, and of loveliest grace:  
Though shaped at first the least of all the three;  
Yet highest set in place, as in degree,  
And over all the rest bore rule and sovereignty.   

5  
So of the three parts fair Europe is the least,  
In which this earthly Ball was first divided;  
Yet stronger far, and nobler than the rest,  
Where victory and learned arts resided,  
And by the Greek and Roman monarchy  
Swayed both the rest; now pressed by slavery  
Of Moscow, and the big-swollen Turkish tyranny.   

6  

b The Brain is the seat of the mind, and senses.  Here all the senses dwell, and all the arts;  
Here learned Muses by their silver spring:  
The 
c The head is divided into the City, and Suburbs; the brain within the wall of the skull, and the face without.  City severed in two diverse parts,  
Within the walls, and Suburbs neighbouring;  
The Suburbs girt but with the common fence,  
Founded with wondrous skill, and great expense;  
And therefore beauty here keeps her chief residence.   

7  
And sure for ornament and buildings rare,  
Lovely aspect, and ravishing delight,  
Not all the Isle or world with this compare;  
But in the Thelu is the fairer sight:  
These Suburbs many call the Islands face;  
Whose charming beauty, and bewitching grace  
Ofttimes the Prince himself enthralls in fetters base.   

8  
For as this Isle is a short summary  
Of all that in this All is wide dispread;  
So th' Islands face is th' Isle's Epitome,  
Where even the Prince's thoughts are often read:  
For when that All had finished every kind,  
And all his works would in less volume bind,  
Fair on the face he wrote the Index of the mind.   

9  
Fair are the Suburbs; yet to clearer sight  
The City's self more fair and excellent:  
A thick-grown wood, not pierced with any light,  
Yields it some fence, and much more ornament:  
The diverse-coloured trees and fresh array  
Much grace the town, but most the Thelu gay:  
Yet all in winter turn to snow, and soon decay.   

10  
Like to some stately work, whose quaint devices,  
And glittering turrets with brave cunning dight,  
The gazer's eye still more and more entices  
Of th' inner rooms to get a fuller sight;  
Whose beauty much more wins his ravished heart,  
That now he only thinks the outward part  
To be a worthy covering of so fair an art.   

11  

d Beside the common tunicles of the whole body, the brain is covered first with the bone of the skull, secondly with the Perieranium, or skin covering the skull, & thirdly with two inward skins.  Four several walls, beside the common guard,  
For more defence the city round embrace:  
The first thick, soft; the second dry and hard;  
As when soft earth before hard stone we place.  
The second all the City round enlaces,  
And like a rock with thicker sides embraces;  
For here the Prince his court & standing palace places.   

12  

e These two are called the hard, and tender mother.  The other two of matter thin and light;  
And yet the first much harder than the other;  
Both cherish all the City: therefore right  
They call that th' hard, and this the tender mother.  

f The whole substance of the brain is divided into four parts by diverse folds of the inward skin.  The first with diverse crooks and turnings wries,  
Cutting the town in four quaternities;  
But both join to resist invading enemies.   

13  
Next these, the buildings yield themselves to sight;  
The 
g The outside of the brain is softer, and of a shy colour; the inward part white, and harder, framed of seed.  outward soft, and pale, like ashes look;  
The inward parts more hard, and curdy white:  
Their matter both from th' Isles first matter took;  
Nor cold, nor hot: heats needful sleeps infest,  
Cold nummes the workmen; middle temper's best;  
When kindly warmth speeds work, & cool gives timely rest.   

14  

h Almost in the midst of the brain are two hollow places, like half moons, of much use for preparing the spirits, emptying rheugme, receiving odours, etc.  Within the centre (as a market place)  
Two caverns stand, made like the Moon half spent;  
Of special use, for in their hollow space  
All odours to their Judge themselves present:  
Here first are born the spirits animal,  
Whose matter, almost immaterial,  
Resembles heaven's matter quintessential.   

15  

i Here is a knot of veins and arteries woven together, by which the animal spirits are concocted, thinned and fitted for service: and close by are two little branches like teats, the instruments of smelling.  Hard by, an hundred nimble workmen stand,  
These noble spirits readily preparing;  
Labouring to make them thin, and fit to hand,  
With never ended work, and sleepless caring:  
Hereby two little hillocks jointly rise,  
Where fit two Judges clad in seemly guise,  
That cite all odours here, as to their just assize.   

16  

k Next in that Septum lucidum, or bright wall, severing these hollow caverns.  Next these, a wall built all of saphires shining,  
As fair, more precious, hence it takes his name;  

l The third cavity is nothing else but a meeting of the two former  By which the third cave lies, his sides combining  
To th' other two, and from them hath his frame;  
(A meeting of those former cavities)  

m It lies under (corpus Cameratum or) the chamber-substance, width with three arches bears up the whole weight of the brain.  Vaulted by three fair arches safe it lies,  
And no oppression fears, or falling tyrannies.   

17  

n By the third cavity are two passages; and at the end of the first is the (Infundibulum or, tunnel, under which is (Glans Pituitaria or) the Rheugmkernell, as a sponge sucking the rheugms, & distilling them into the palate.  By this third cave the humid city drains  
Base noisome streams the milky streets annoying;  
And through a wide-mouthed tunnel duly strains,  
Unto a bibbing substance down convoying;  
Which these foul dropping humours largely swills,  
Till all his swelling sponge he greedy fills,  
And then through other sinks by little soft distils.   

18  

o The other passage reaches to the fourth cavity, which yields a safe way for the spirits.  Between this and the fourth cave, lies a vale,  
(The fourth, the first in worth, in rank the last)  
Where two round hills shut in this pleasant dale,  
Through which the spirits thither safe are passed;  

p The fourth cavity is most noble, where all the spirits are perfected. By it is the pith, or marrow, the fountain of these spirits.  Those here refined their full perfection have;  
And therefore close by this fourth wondrous cave  
Rises that silver well, scattering his milky wave.   

19  
Not that bright spring, where fair Hermaphrodite  
Grew into one with wanton Salmacis,  
Nor that where Biblis dropped, too fond light,  
Her tears and self, may dare compare with this;  

q This pith, or marrow, springing in the brain flows down through the back bone.  Which here beginning down a lake descends,  
Whose rocky channel these fair streams defends,  
Till it the precious wave through all the Isle dispends.   

20  

r All the nerves imparting all sense and motion to the whole body have their root partly from the brain, and partly from the back bone.  Many fair rivers take their heads from either,  
(Both from the lake, and from the milky well)  
Which still in loving channels run together,  
Each to his mate a neighbour parallel:  
Thus widely spread with friendly combination,  
They fling about their wondrous operation,  
And give to every part both motion and sensation.   

21  

s The pith of the back bone springeth from the brain, whence by four passages it is conveyed into the back; and there all four join in one, and again are thence divided into diverse others.  This silver lake, first from th' head-city springing,  
To that bright fount four little channels sends;  
Through which it thither plenteous water bringing,  
Strait all again to every place dispends:  
Such is th' head-city, such the Prince's Hall;  
Such, and much more, which strangely liberal,  
Though sense it never had, yet gives all sense to all.   

22  
Of other stuff the Suburbs have their framing;  
May seem soft marble, spotted red and white:  

t The first part of the face is the forehead, at whose base are the eyes.  First stands an Arch, pale Cynthia's brightness shaming,  
The City's forefront, cast in silver bright:  
At whose proud base are built two watching towers,  
Whence hate and love skirmish with equal powers;  
Whence smiling gladness shines, and sullen sorrow showers.   

23  

u The eyes are the index of the mind, discovering every affection.  Here sits retired the silent reverence;  
And when the Prince, incensed with anger's fire,  
Thunders aloud, he darts his lightning hence;  
Here dusky-reddish clouds foretell his ire:  
Of nothing can this Isle more boast aright:  
A twin-born Sun, a double seeing light;  
With much delight they see, are seen with much delight.   

24  
That 
* Orpheus' called the eyes the looking glass of nature.  Thracian shepherd called them Nature's glass;  
Yet than a glass in this much worthier being:  
Blind glasses represent some neare-set face;  
But this a living glass, both seen and seeing:  

x Plato affirmed them lighted up with heavenly fire not burning, but shining.  Like heaven in moving, like in heavenly firing;  
Sweet heat and light, no burning flame inspiring:  
Yet (ah!) too oft we find they scorch with hot desiring.   

25  
They mounted high, sit on a lofty hill;  
(For they the Prince's best intelligence,  
And quickly warn of future good, or ill)  
Here stands the palace of the noblest sense;  
Here Visus keeps, whose Court then crystal smother,  
And clearer seems; he, though a younger brother,  
Yet far more 
y Visus, or the light, is the most noble above all the senses.  noble is, far fairer than the other.   

26  

z There are six muscles moving the eye, thus termed by Anatomists.  Six bands are set to stir the moving tower:  
The first the proud band called, that lifts it higher;  
The next the humble band, that shoves it lower;  
The bibbing third draws it together nigher;  
The fourth disdainful, oft away is moving:  
The other two, helping the compass roving,  
Are called the circling trains, & wanton bands of loving.   

27  

a Above are the eyebrows keeping off the sweat that it fall not into the eyes.  Above, two compass groves, (Loves bended bows)  
Which fence the towers from floods of higher place:  

b The eyelids shutting the eye are two; the lower ever unmoved in man: and hairs keeping off dust, flies, etc.  Before, a wall, deluding rushing foes,  
That shuts and opens in a moment's space:  
The low part fixed, the higher quick descending;  
Upon whose tops spearmen their pikes intending,  
Watch there both night and day, the castles port defending.   

28  

c There are three humours in the eye: the first the Watery, breaking the too vehement light, and stopping the spirits from going out too fast.  Three diverse lakes within these bulwarks lie,  
The noblest parts and instruments of sight:  
The first, receiving forms of bodies nigh,  
Conveys them to the next, and breaks the light,  
Danting his rash and forcible invasion;  
And with a clear and whitish inundation,  
Restrains the nimble spirits from their too quick evasion.   

29  

d The second is the Crystalline, and most noble, seated and compassed between the other two, and being altered by the entering shapes, is the chief instrument of sight.  In midst of both is placed the Cyrstall pond;  
Whose living water thick, and brightly shining,  
Like Saphires, or the sparkling Diamond,  
His inward beams with outward light combining,  
Altering itself to every shapes aspect,  
The diverse forms doth further still direct,  
Till by the nimble post th' are brought to th' Intellect.   

30  

e The third from the likeness is called the glassy humour.  The third, like molten glass, all clear and white:  
Both round embrace the noble Crystalline.  

f 
There are six tunicles belonging to the eye:  
The first called the conjunctive, solid, thick, compassing the whole eye, but only the black window.   Six inward walls fence in this Tower of sight:  
The first, most thick, doth all the frame enshrine,  
And girts the Castle with a close embrace,  
Save in the midst is left a circles space,  
Where light and hundred shapes flock out & in apace.   

31  

g The second is Cornea or, horny tunicle, transparent, and made of the hard mother.  The second not so massy as the other,  
Yet thicker than the rest, and tougher framed,  
Takes his beginning from that harder mother:  
The outward part like horn, and thence is named;  
Through whose translucent sides much light is born  
Into the Tower, and much kept out by th' horn,  
Makes it a pleasant light, much like the ruddy morn.   

32  

h The third is (〈◊〉 or) grapie, made of the tender mother, thin, and pervious by a little and round window: it is diversely coloured without, but exceeding black within.  The third, of softer mould, is like a grape,  
Which all entwines with his encircling side:  
In midst a window lets in every shape;  
Which with a thought is narrow made, or wide:  
His inmost side more black than starrelesse night;  
But outward part (how like an hypocrite!)  
As painted Iris looks, with various colours dight.   

33  

i The fourth is more thin than any cobweb (and thence so called) immediately compassing the Crystalline humour.  The fourth of finest work, more slight, and thin,  
Then or Arachne, (which in silken twine  
With Pallas strove) or Pallas self could spin:  
This round enwraps the fountain Crystalline.  

k The fifth, Reticularis, netty tunicle, framed of the substance of the brain: this diffuseth the visil spirits, and perceives the alteration of the Crystalline; and here is the mean of sight.  The next is made out of that milky spring,  
That from the Cephal mount his waves doth fling,  
Like to a curious net his substance scattering.   

34  
His substance as the Head-spring, perfect white;  
Here thousand nimble spies are round dispread:  
The forms caught in this net, are brought to sight,  
And to his eye are lively portrayed.  

l The sixth is called the glassy tunicle, ●●asping in the glassy humour.  The last the glassy wall (that round encasing  
The moat of glass, is named from that enlacing)  
The white & glassy wells parts with his strict embracing   

35  
Thus then is framed the noble Visus bower;  
The outward light by th' first walls circled sending  
His beams and hundred forms into the tower,  
The wall of horn, and that black gate transcending,  
Is lightened by the brightest Crystalline,  
And fully viewed in that white nettie shine,  
From thence with speedy haste is posted to the mind.   

36  
Much as an one-eyed room, hung all with night,  
(Only that side, which adverse to his eye  
Gives but one narrow passage to the light,  
Is spread with some white shining tapestry)  
An hundred shapes that through flit airs stray,  
Shove boldly in, crowding that narrow way,  
And on that bright-faced wall obscurely dancing play.   

37  

m The eye hath two nerves, the Optic or seeing nerve, and moving. The optic, separate in their root, in the midst of their progress meet, and strengthen one the other.  Two pair of rivers from the Head-spring flow  
To these two Towers: the first in their mid-race  
(The spies conveying) twisted jointly go,  
Strengthening each other with a firm embrace.  

n The moving, rising from the same stem, are at length severed; therefore as one moves, so moves the other.  The other pair these walking Towers are moving;  
At first but one, then in two channels roving:  
And therefore both agree in standing, or removing.   

38  

o Hearing is the second sense, less noble than the eye, more needful.  Auditus, second of the Pemptarchie,  
Is next, not all so noble as his brother;  
Yet of more need, and more commodity:  
His seat is placed somewhat below the other:  
Of each side of the mount a double cave;  
Both which a goodly Portall doth embrave,  
And winding entrance, like Maeanders erring wave.   

39  

p The outward ear is of a grisly matter, covered with the common tunicle. It is framed with many crooks, left the air should enter too forcibly.  The Portall hard and dry, all hung around  
With silken, thin, carnatian tapestry:  
Whose open gate drags in each voice and sound,  
That through the shaken air passes by:  
The entrance winding; lest some violence  
Might fright the Judge with sudden influence,  
Or some unwelcome guest might vex the busy sense.   

40  

q The inward ear consists of four passages: the first is steeple left any thing should creep in.  This caves first part framed with a steep ascent  
(For in four parts 'tis fitly severed)  
Makes th' entrance hard, but easy the descent:  
Where stands a braced drum, whose sounding head  
(Obliquely placed) struck by the circling air,  
Gives instant warning of each sounds repair,  
Which soon is thence conveyed unto the Judgement chair.   

41  

r If the Drum be wet with falling of rheugm, we are hard of hearing; but if it grow thick, we are irrecoverably deaf.  The drum is made of substance hard and thin;  
Which if some falling moisture chance to wet,  
The loudest sound is hardly heard within:  
But if it once grows thick, with stubborn let  
It bars all passage to the inner room;  
No sounding voice unto his seat may come:  
The lazy sense still sleeps, unsummoned with his drum.   

42  

s The Drum parteth the first and second passage. To it are joined three little bones, the instruments of hearing, which never grow, or decrease in childhood or age: they are all in the second passage.  This drum divides the first and second part,  
In which three hearing instruments reside;  
Three instruments compact by wondrous art,  
With slender string knit to th' drums inner side:  
Their native temper being hard and dry,  
Fitting the sound with their firm quality,  
Continue still the same in age and infancy.   

43  

t The first of these bones is called the Hammer, the second the Stithe, the third the Stirrup, all taking their names from their likeness: all tied to the Drum by a little string.  The first an Hammer called, whose out-grown sides  
Lie on the drum; but with his swelling end  
Fixed in the hollow Stithe, there fast abides:  
The Stithes' short foot doth on the drum depend,  
His longer in the Stirrup surely placed;  
The Stirrups sharp side by the Stithe embraced,  
But his broad base tied to a little window fast.   

44  

u These are two small passages, admitting the sounds into the head, and cleansing the air.  Two little windows ever open lie,  
The sound unto the caves third part conveying;  
And slender pipe, whose narrow cavity  
Doth purge the inborn air, that idle staying  
Would else corrupt, and still supplies the spending:  
The caves third part in twenty byways bending,  
Is called the Labyrinth, in hundred crooks ascending.   

45  
Such whilom was that eye-deceiving frame,  
Which crafty Daedal with a cunning hand  
Built to empound the Cretan Prince's shame:  
Such was that Woodstock cave, where Rosamand,  
Fair Rosamand, fled jealous Ellenore;  
Whom late a shepherd taught to weep so sore,  
That woods and hardest rocks her harder fate deplore.   

46  
The third part with his narrow rocky straits  
Perfects the sound, and gives more sharp accenting;  
Then sends it to the 
* The last passage is called the Cochlea, snail, or Periwinkle; where the nerves of hearing plainly appear.  fourth; where ready waits  
A nimble post, who ne'er his haste relenting,  
Flings to the judgement-seat with speedy flight:  
There th' equal Judge attending day and night,  
Receives the entering sounds, & dooms each voice aright.   

47  
As when a stone, troubling the quiet waters,  
Prints in the angry stream a wrinkle round,  
Which soon another and another scatters,  
Till all the lake with circles now is crowned:  
All so the air struck with some violence nigh,  
Begets a world of circles in the sky;  
All which infected move with sounding quality.   

48  
These at Auditus palace soon arriving,  
Enter the gate, and strike the warning drum;  
To those three instruments fit motion giving,  
Which every voice discern: then that third room  
Sharpens each sound, and quick conveys it thence;  
Till by the flying post 'tis hurried hence,  
And in an instant brought unto the judging sense.   

49  
This sense is made the Master of request,  
Prefers petitions to the Prince's ear,  
Admits what best he likes, shuts out the rest;  
And sometimes cannot, sometimes will not hear:  
Ofttimes he lets in anger-stirring lies,  
Oft melts the Prince with oily flatteries.  
Ill might he thrive, that loves his Master's enemies!   

50  
'Twixt Visus double court a Tower stands,  
Placed in the Suburbs centre; whose high top,  
And lofty raised ridge the rest commands:  
Low at his foot a double door stands open,  
Admitting passage to the airs ascending;  
And diverse odours to the City sending,  
Revives the heavy town, his liberal sweets dispending.   

51  
This vaulted Tower's half built of massy stone,  
The other half of stuff less hard and dry,  
Fit for distending, or compression:  
The outward wall may seem all porphyry.  

x The sense of smelling.  Olfactus dwells within this lofty fort;  
But in the city is his chief resort,  
Where 'twixt two little hills he keeps his judging court.   

52  
By two great caves are placed these 
y These are those two little bunches like paps, or teats, spoken of the 15 Stanz. of this Cant.  little hills,  
Most like the nipples of a virgin's breast;  
By which the air that th' hollow Tower fills,  
Into the City passeth: with the rest  
The odours pressing in are here all stayed;  
Till by the sense impartially weighed,  
Unto the common Judge they are with speed conveyed.   

53  
At each side of that Tower stand two fair plains,  
More fair than that which in rich Thessaly  
Was once frequented by the Muse's trains:  
Here ever sits sweet-blushing Modesty;  
Here in two colours Beauty shining bright,  
Dressing her white with red, her red with white,  
With pleasing chain enthralls, & binds loose wand'ring sight.   

54  
Below, a cave roofed with an 
z Gustus, or the taste is in the palate, which in the Greek is called the heaven.  heav'n-like plaster,  
And under strewed with purple tapestry,  
Where Gustus dwells, the Isles and Prince's Taster,  
Koilia's Steward, one of th' Pemptarchie;  

a Taste is a kind of touch, nor can it exist but by touching.  Whom Tactus (so some say) got of his mother:  
For by their nearest likeness one to th' other,  
Tactus may easily seem his father, and his brother.   

55  

b Tactus or the sense of touching.  Tactus the last, but yet the eldest brother;  
(Whose office meanest, yet of all the race  
The first and last, more needful than the other)  
Hath his abode in none, yet every place:  
Through all the Isle distended is his dwelling;  
He rules the streams that from the Cephal swelling  
Run all along the Isle, both sense & motion dealing.   

56  
With Gustus Lingua dwells, his prattling wife,  
Endued with strange and adverse qualities;  
The nurse of hate and love, of peace and strife,  
Mother of fairest truth, and foulest lies:  
Or best, or worst; no mean: made all of fire,  
Which sometimes hell, & sometimes heavens inspire;  
By whom oft Truth self speaks, oft that first murdering liar.   

57  
The idle Sun stood still at her command,  
Breathing his fiery steeds in Gibeon:  
And pale-faced Cynthia at her word made stand,  
Resting her coach in vales of Aialon.  
Her voice oft open breaks the stubborn skies,  
And holds th' Almighty's hands with suppliant cries:  
Her voice tears open hell with horrid blasphemies.   

58  
Therefore that great Creator, well foreseeing  
To what a monster she would soon be changing,  
(Though lovely once, perfect and glorious being)  
Curbed her with iron 
c The Tongue is held with a ligament, ordinarily called the bridle.  bit, and held from ranging;  
And with strong bonds her loser steps enchaining,  
Bridled her course, too many words refraining,  
And doubled all his guards, bold liberty restraining.   

59  

d The Tongue is guarded with thirty two teeth, and with the lips▪ all which do not a little help the speech, and sweeten the voice.  For close within he sets twice sixteen guarders,  
Whose hardened temper could not soon be moved:  
Without the gate he placed two other warders,  
To shut and open the door, as it behoved:  
But such strange force hath her enchanting art,  
That she hath made her keepers of her part,  
And they to all her slights all furtherance impart.   

60  
Thus (with their help) by her the sacred Muses  
Refresh the Prince dulled with much business;  
By her the Prince unto his Prince oft uses  
In heavily throne from hell to find access.  
She heaven to earth in music often brings,  
And earth to heaven: but oh how sweet she sings,  
When in rich grace's key she tunes poor natures strings!   

61  
Thus Orpheus won his lost Eurydice;  
Whom some deaf snake, that could no music hear,  
Or some blind newt, that could no beauty see,  
Thinking to kiss, killed with his forked spear:  
He, when his plaints on earth were vainly spent,  
Down to Avernus' river boldly went,  
And charmed the meager ghosts with mournful blandishment.   

62  
There what his mother, fair Calliope,  
From Phoebus' harp and Muse's spring had brought him,  
What sharpest grief for his Eurydice,  
And love redoubling grief had newly taught him,  
He lavished out, and with his potent spell  
Bend all the rigorous powers of stubborn hell:  
He first brought pity down with rigid ghosts to dwell.   

63  
Th'amazed shades came flocking round about,  
Nor cared they now to pass the Stygian ford:  
All hell came running there, (an hideous rout)  
And dropped a silent tear for every word:  
The aged Ferrieman shoved out his boat;  
But that without his help did thither float;  
And having ta'en him in, came dancing on the moat.   

64  
The hungry Tantal might have filled him now,  
And with large draughts swilled in the standing pool:  
The fruit hung listening on the wondering bough,  
Forgetting hell's command; but he (ah fool!)  
Forgot his starved taste, his ears to fill.  
Ixion's turning wheel unmoved stood still;  
But he was rapt as much with powerful music's skill.   

65  
Tired Sisyphus sat on his resting stone,  
And hoped at length his labour done for ever:  
The vulture feeding on his pleasing moan,  
Glutted with music, scorned grown Tityus' liver:  
The Furies flung their snaky whips away,  
And moult in tears at his enchanting lay,  
No shrieches now were heard; all hell kept holiday.   

66  
That treble Dog, whose voice ne'er quiet fears  
All that in endless nights sad kingdom dwell,  
Stood pricking up his thrice two listening ears,  
With greedy joy drinking the sacred spell;  
And softly whining, pitied much his wrongs;  
And now first silent at those dainty songs,  
Oft wished himself more ears, & fewer mouths & tongues.   

67  
At length returned with his Eurydice,  
But with this law, not to return his eyes,  
Till he was past the laws of Tartary;  
(Alas! who gives love laws in miseries?  
Love is love's law; love but to love is tied)  
Now when the dawns of neighbour day he spied,  
Ah wretch! Eurydice he saw, and lost, and died.   

68  
All so who strives from grave of hellish night  
To bring his dead soul to the joyful sky;  
If when he comes in view of heavenly light,  
He turns again to hell his yielding eye,  
And longs to see what he had left; his sore  
Grows desperate, deeper, deadlier than afore:  
His helps and hopes much less, his crime & judgement more.   

69  
But why do I enlarge my tedious song,  
And tyre my flagging Muse with weary flight?  
Ah! much I fear I hold you much too long.  
The outward parts be plain to every sight:  
But to describe the people of this Isle,  
And that great Prince, these reeds are all too vile:  
Some higher verse may fit, and some more lofty style.   

70  
See, Phlegon drenched in the hizzing main,  
Alleys his thirst, and cools the flaming car;  
Vesper fair Cynthia ushers, and her train:  
See, th' apish earth hath lighted many a star,  
Sparkling in dewy globes: all home invite:  
Home then my flocks, home shepherds, home; 'tis night:  
My song with day is done; my Muse is set with light.   

71  
By this the gentle boys had framed well  
A myrtle garland mixed with conquering bay,  
From whose fit match issued a pleasing smell,  
And all enamelled it with roses gay;  
With which they crown their honoured Thirsils' head:  
Ah blessed shepherd-swain! ah happy meed!  
While all his fellows chant on slender pipes of reed.    

CANT. VI  

THe hours had now unlocked the gate of day,  
When fair Aurora leaves her frosty bed,  
Hasting with youthful Shafalus to play,  
Unmasked her face, and rosy beauties spread:  
Tithonus silver age was much despised.  
Ah! who in love that cruel law devised,  
That old love's little worth, and new too highly prized?   

2  
The gentle shepherds on an hillock placed,  
(Whose shady head a beechie garland crowned)  
Viewed all their flocks that on the pastures grazed:  
Then down they sit, while Thenot begins the round;  
Thenot! was never fairer boy among  
The gentle lads, that in the Muse's throng  
By Chamus' yellow streams learn tune their pipe & song.   

3  
See, Thirsil, see the shepherd's expectation;  
Why then, (ah!) why sittest thou so silent there?  
We long to know that Islands happy nation:  
Oh! do not leave thy Isle unpeopled here.  
Tell us who brought, and whence these colonies;  
Who is their King, what foes, and what allies;  
What laws maintain their peace, what wars & victories.   

4  
Thenot, my dear, that simple fisher-swain,  
Whose little boat in some small river strays;  
Yet fond lanches in the swelling main,  
Soon, yet too late, reputes his foolish plays.  
How dare I then forsake my well-set bounds,  
Whose newcut pipe as yet but harshly sounds?  
A narrow compass best my ungrown Muse impounds.   

5  
Two shepherds most I love with just adoring;  
That Mantuan swain, who changed his slender reed  
To trumpets martial voice, and wars loud roaring,  
From Corydon to Turnus' derring-deed;  
And next our homebred Colins sweetest firing;  
Their steps not following close, but far admiring:  
To lackey one of these is all my prides aspiring.   

6  
Then you my peers, whose quiet expectation  
Seemeth my backward tale would fain invite;  
Deign gently hear this purple Islands nation,  
A people never seen, yet still in sight;  
Our daily guests, and natives, yet unknown;  
Our servants born, but now commanders grown;  
Our friends, and enemies; aliens, yet still our own.   

7  
Not like those Heroes, who in better times  
This happy Island first inhabited  
In joy and peace; when no rebellious crimes  
That Godlike nation yet dispeop'led:  
Those claimed their birth from that eternal Light,  
Held th' Isle, and ruled it in their father's right,  
And in their faces bore their parent's image bright.   

8  
For when the Isle that main would fond forsake,  
In which at first it found a happy place,  
And deep was plunged in that dead hellish lake;  
Back to their father flew this heavenly race,  
And left the Isle forlorn, and desolate,  
That now with fear, and wishes all too late,  
Sought in that blackest wave to hide his blacker fate.   

9  
How shall a worm, on dust that crawls and feeds,  
Climb to th' empyreal court, where these states reign,  
And there take view of what heavens self exceeds?  
The Sun less stars, these lights the Sun distain:  
Their beams divine, and beauties do excel  
What here on earth, in air, or heaven do dwell:  
Such never eye yet saw, such never tongue can tell.   

10  
Soon as these Saints the treacherous Isle forsook,  
Rushed in a false, foul, fiendlike company,  
And every fort, and every castle took;  
All to this rabble yield the sovereignty:  
The goodly temples which those Heroes placed,  
By this foul rout were utterly defaced,  
And all their fences strong, and all their bulwarks razed.   

11  
So where the neatest Badger most abides,  
Deep in the earth she frames her pretty cell,  
And into halls and closulets divides:  
But when the stinking fox with loathsome smell  
Infects her pleasant cave, the cleanly beast  
So hates her inmate and rank-smelling guest,  
That far away she flies, and leaves her loathed nest.   

12  
But when those Graces (at their father's throne  
Arrived) in heaven's high Court to Justice plained,  
How they were wronged, and forced from their own,  
And what foul people in their dwellings reigned;  
How th' earth much waxed in ill, much waned in good,  
So full-ripe vice, how blasted virtues bud,  
Begging such vicious weeds might sink in vengeful flood:   

13  
Forth stepped the just Dicaea, full of rage;  
(The firstborn daughter of th' Almighty King)  
Ah sacred maid, thy kindled ire assuage;  
Who dare abide thy dreadful thundering?  
Soon as her voice but Father only spoke,  
The faultless heavens, like leaves in Autumn, shake;  
And all that glorious throng with horrid palsies quake.   

14  
Herd you not 
* See that sweet poem entitled Christ's victory and triumph. part. 1. stan. 18.  late, with what loud trumpet sound  
Her breath awaked her father's sleeping ire?  
The heavenly armies flamed, earth shook; heaven frowned,  
And heavens dread King called for his three-forkt fire.  
Hark how the powerful words strike through the ear;  
The frighted sense shoots up the staring hair,  
And shakes the trembling soul with fright & shudd'ring fear.   

15  
So have I seen the earth strong winds detaining.  
In prison close; they scorning to be under  
Her dull subjection, and her power disdaining,  
With horrid struggle tear their bonds in sunder:  
Mean while the wounded earth, that forced their stay,  
With terror reels, the hills run far away;  
And frighted world fears hell breaks out upon the day.   

16  
But see how 'twixt her sister and her sire,  
Soft-hearted Mercy sweetly interposing,  
Settles her panting breast against his fire,  
Pleading for grace, and chains of death unloosing:  
Hark, from her lips the melting honey flows;  
The striking Thunderer recals his blows,  
And every armed soldier down his weapon throws.   

17  
So when the day, wrapped in a cloudy night,  
Puts out the Sun, anon the rattling hail  
On earth pours down his shot with fell despite:  
His powder spent, the Sun puts off his vail,  
And fair his flaming beauties now unsteeps;  
The ploughman from his bushes gladly peeps,  
And hidden traveller out of his covert creeps.   

18  
Ah fairest maid, best essence of thy father,  
Equal unto thy never equalled sire;  
How in low verse shall thy poor shepherd gather,  
What all the world can ne'er enough admire?  
When thy sweet eyes sparkle in cheerful light,  
The brightest day grows pale as leaden night,  
And heavens bright burning eye loses his blinded sight.   

19  
Who then those sugared strains can understand,  
Which calmed thy father, and our desperate fears;  
And charmed the nimble lightning in his hand,  
That all unwares it dropped in melting tears?  
Then thou dear 
* A book entitled Christ's victory and triumph.  swain, thy heavenly load unfraught;  
For she herself hath thee her speeches taught;  
So near her heaven they be, so far from humane thought.   

20  
But let my lighter skiff return again  
Unto that little Isle which late it left,  
Nor dare to enter in that boundless main,  
Or tell the nation from this Island reft;  
But sing that civil strife, and home dissension  
'Twixt two strong factions with like fierce contention;  
Where never peace is heard, nor ever peace's mention.   

21  
For that foul rout, which from the Stygian brook  
(Where first they dwelled in midst of death and night)  
By force the left and empty Island took,  
Claim hence full conquest, and possessions right:  
But that fair band, which Mercy sent anew,  
The ashes of that first heroic crew,  
From their forefathers claim their right, & Islands due.   

22  
In their fair look their parent's grace appears,  
Yet their renowned sires were much more glorious;  
For what decays not with decaying years?  
All night, and all the day, with toil laborious,  
(In loss and conquest angry) fresh they fight:  
Nor can the other cease or day or night,  
While th' Isle is doubly rend with endless war and fright.   

23  
As when the Britain and Iberian fleet  
With resolute and fearless expectation  
On trembling seas with equal fury meet,  
The shore resounds with divers acclamation;  
Till now at length Spain's fiery Dons begin shrink:  
Down with their ships, hope, life, and courage sink:  
Courage, life, hope, and ships the gaping surges drink.   

24  
But who (alas!) shall teach my ruder breast  
The names and deeds of these heroic Kings?  
Or downy Muse, which now but left the nest,  
Mount from her bush to heaven with newborn wings?  
Thou sacred maid, which from fair Palestine  
Through all the world hast spread thy brightest shine  
Kindle thy shepherd-swain with thy light flaming eyn.   

25  
Sacred Thespio, which in Sinaies' grove  
First took'st thy being and immortal breath,  
And vauntest thy offspring from the highest jove,  
Yet deign'dst to dwell with mortals here beneath,  
With vilest earth, and men more vile residing;  
Come holy Virgin in my bosom sliding,  
With thy glad Angel light my blindfold footsteps guiding.   

26  
And thou dread Spirit, which at first didst spread  
On those dark waters thy all-opening light;  
Thou who of late (of thy great bounty head)  
This nest of hellish fogs and Stygian night  
With thy bright orient Sun hast fair renewed,  
And with unwonted day hast it endued,  
Which late both day & thee, and most itself eschewed:   

27  
Dread Spirit, do thou those several bands unfold,  
Both which thou sentest a needful supplement  
To this lost Isle, and which with courage bold  
Hourly assail thy rightful regiment;  
And with strong hand oppress & keep them under:  
Raise now my humble vein to lofty thunder,  
That heaven and earth may sound, resound thy praises wonder.   

28  
The Islands Prince, of frame more than celestial,  
Is rightly called th' all-seeing Intellect;  
All glorious bright, such nothing is terrestrial;  
Whose Sunlike face, and most divine aspect  
No humane sight may ever hope descry:  
For when himself on's self reflects his eye,  
Dull and amazed he stands at so bright majesty.   

29  
Look as the Sun, whose ray and searching light  
Here, there, and every where itself displays,  
No nook or corner flies his piercing sight;  
Yet on himself when he reflects his rays,  
Soon back he flings the too bold venturing gleam;  
Down to the earth the flames all broken stream:  
Such is this famous Prince, such his unpierced beam.   

30  
His strangest body is not bodily,  
But matter without matter; never filled,  
Nor filling; though within his compass high  
All heaven and earth, and all in both are held;  
Yet thousand thousand heavens he could contain,  
And still as empty as at first remain;  
And when he takes in most, readiest to take again.   

31  
Though travelling all places, changing none:  
Bid him soar up to heaven, and thence down throwing  
The centre search, and This dark realm; he's gone,  
Returns, arrives, before thou saw'st him going:  
And while his weary kingdom safely sleeps,  
All restless night he watch and warding keeps,  
Never his careful head on resting pillow steeps.   

32  
In every quarter of this blessed Isle  
Himself both present is, and Precedent;  
Nor once retires, (ah happy realm the while,  
That by no Officers lewd lavishment,  
With greedy lust, and wrong consumed art!)  
He all in all, and all in every part,  
Does share to each his due, and equal dole impart.   

33  
He knows nor death, nor years, nor feeble age;  
But as his time, his strength and vigour grows:  
And when his kingdom by intestine rage  
Lies broke and wasted, open to his foes,  
And battered sconce now flat and even lies;  
Sooner than thought to that great Judge he flies,  
Who weighs him just reward of good, or injuries.   

34  
For he the Judge's Viceroy here is placed;  
Where if he live, as knowing he may die,  
He never dies, but with fresh pleasures graced,  
Baths his crowned head in soft eternity;  
Where thousand joys, and pleasures ever new,  
And blessings thicker than the morning dew,  
With endless sweets rain down on that immortal crew.   

35  
There golden stars set in the crystal snow;  
There dainty joys laugh at white-headed caring:  
There day no night, delight no end shall know;  
Sweets without surfeit, fullness without sparing,  
And by its spending growing happiness:  
There God himself in glories lavishness  
Diffused in all, to all, is all full blessedness.   

36  
But if he here neglect his Master's law,  
And with those traitors against his Lord rebels;  
Down to the deeps ten thousand fiends him draw,  
Deeps, where night, death, despair and horror dwells;  
And in worst ills, still worse expecting fears:  
Where fell despite for spite his bowels tears,  
And still increasing grief, and torment never wears.   

37  
Prayers there are idle, death is wooed in vain;  
In midst of death poor wretches long to die:  
Night without day or rest, still doubling pain;  
Woes spending still, yet still their end less nigh:  
The soul there restless, helpless, hopeless lies;  
The body frying roars, and roaring fries:  
There's life that never lives, there's death that never dies.   

38  
Hence while unsettled here he fight reigns,  
Shut in a Tower where thousand enemies  
Assault the fort, with wary care and pains  
He guards all entrance, and by diverse spies  
Searches into his foes and friends designs:  
For most he fears his subjects wavering minds.  
This Tower then only falls, when treason undermines.   

39  
Therefore while yet he lurks in earthly tent,  
Disguised in worthless robes and poor attire,  
Try we to view his glories wonderment,  
And get a sight of what we so admire:  
For when away from this sad place he flies,  
And in the skies abides, more bright than skies,  
Too glorious is his sight for our dim mortal eyes.   

40  
So curl'd-head Thetis, waters feared Queen,  
But bound in cauls of sand, yields not to sight;  
And planets glorious King may best be seen,  
When some thin cloud dims his too piercing light,  
And neither none, nor all his face discloses:  
For when his bright eye full our eye opposes,  
None gains his glorious sight, but his own sight he loses.   

41  
Within the Castle sit eight Counsellors,  
That help him in this tent to govern well:  
Each in his room a several office bears;  
Three of his inmost private counsel deal  
In great affairs: five of less dignity  
Have outward Courts, and in all actions pry,  
But still refer the doom to Courts more fit and high.   

42  
Those 
* The five senses.  five fair brethren which I sung of late,  
For their just number called the Pemptarchie;  
The other three, three pillars of the state:  
The 
* The comen sense.  first in midst of that high Tower doth lie,  
(The chiefest mansion of this glorious King)  
The Judge and Arbiter of every thing,  
Which those five brethren's posts in to his office bring.   

43  
Of middle years, and seemly personage,  
Father of laws, the rule of wrong and right;  
Fountain of judgement, therefore wondrous sage,  
Discreet, and wise, of quick and nimble sight:  
Not those seven Sages might him parallel,  
Nor he whom Pythian Maid did whilom tell  
To be the wisest man that then on earth did dwell.   

44  
As Neptune's cistern sucks in tribute tides  
(Yet never full) which every channel brings,  
And thirsty drinks, and drinking thirsty bides;  
For by some hidden way back to the springs  
It sends the streams in erring conduits spread,  
Which with a circling duty still are led;  
So ever feeding them, is by them ever fed:   

45  
Even so the first of these three Counsellors  
Gives to the five the power of all-descrying;  
Which back to him with mutual duty bears  
All their informing, and the causes trying:  
For through straight ways the nimble Post ascends  
Unto his hall; there up his message sends,  
Which to the next well scanned he straightway recommends.   

46  
The 
* The fancy.  next that in the Castle's front is placed,  
Phantastes hight; his years are fresh and green,  
His visage old, his face too much defaced  
With ashes pale, his eyes deep sunken been  
With often thoughts, and never slacked intention:  
Yet he the fount of speedy apprehension,  
Father of wit, the well of arts, and quick invention.   

47  
But in his private thoughts and busy brain  
Thousand thin forms, and idle fancies flit;  
The three-shaped Sphinx, and direful Harpies train,  
Which in the world had never being yet:  
Oft dreams of fire and water, loose delight;  
And oft arrested by some ghastly spirit,  
Nor can he think, nor speak, nor move for great affright.   

48  
Phantastes from the first all shapes deriving,  
In new abiliments can quickly dight;  
Of all material and gross parts depriving,  
Fits them unto the noble Prince's sight;  
Which soon as he hath viewed with searching eye,  
He strait commits them to his Treasury,  
Which old Eumnestes keeps, Father of memory.   

49  
Eumnestes old, who in his living screen  
(His mindful breast) the rolls and records bears  
Of all the deeds, and men, which he hath seen,  
And keeps locked up in faithful Registers:  
Well he recalls Nimrods' first tyranny,  
And Babel's pride daring the lofty sky;  
Well he recalls the earth's twice-growing infancy.   

50  
Therefore his body weak, his eyes halfblinde,  
But mind more fresh, and strong; (ah better fate!)  
And as his carcase, so his house declined;  
Yet were the walls of firm and able state:  
Only on him a nimble Page attends,  
Who when for aught the aged Grandsire sends,  
With swift, yet backward steps, his helping aidance lends.   

51  
But let my song pass from these worthy Sages  
Unto this Islands highest 
* The understanding.  Sovereign,  
And those hard wars which all the year he wages:  
For these three late a gentle shepherd-swain  
Most sweetly sung, as he before had seen  
In Alma's house: his memory yet green  
Lives in his well-tuned songs, whose leaves immortal been.   

52  
Nor can I guess, whether his Muse divine  
Or gives to those, or takes from them his grace;  
Therefore Eumnestes in his lasting shrine  
Hath justly him enroled in second place:  
Next to our Mantuan poet doth he rest;  
There shall our Colin live for ever blessed,  
Spite of those thousand spites, which living him oppressed.   

53  
The Prince his time in double office spends:  
For first those forms and fancies he admits,  
Which to his Court busy Phantastes sends,  
And for the easier discerning fits:  
For shedding round about his sparkling light,  
He clears their dusky shades, and cloudy night,  
Producing like himself their shapes all shining bright.   

54  
As when the Sun restores the glittering day,  
The world late clothed in nights black livery,  
Doth now a thousand colours fair display,  
And paints itself in choice variety,  
Which late one colour hid, the eye deceiving;  
All so this Prince those shapes obscure receiving,  
With his suffused light makes ready to conceiving.   

55  
This first is called the Active Faculty,  
Which to an higher power the object leaves:  
That takes it in itself, and cunningly  
Changing itself, the object soon perceives:  
For strait itself in self same shape adorning,  
Becomes the same with quick & strange transforming;  
So is all things itself, to all itself conforming.   

56  
Thus when the eye through Visus jettie ports  
Le's in the wand'ring shapes, the crystal strange  
Quickly itself to every sort consorts,  
So is what e'er it sees by wondrous change:  
Thrice happy then, when on that 
* 2. Cor. 3.18.  mirror bright  
He ever fastens his unmoved sight,  
So is what there he views; divine, full, glorious light.   

57  
Soon as the Prince these forms hath clearly seen,  
Parting the false from true, the wrong from right,  
He strait presents them to his beauteous Queen,  
Whose Courts are lower, yet of equal might;  

* The will.  Voletta fair, who with him lives, and reigns;  
Whom neither man, nor fiend, nor God constrains:  
Oft good, oft ill, oft both; yet ever free remains.   

58  
Not that great Sovereign of the Fairy land,  
Whom late our Colin hath eternised,  
(Though Graces decking her with plenteous hand,  
Themselves of grace have all unfurnished;  
Though in her breast she Virtue's temple bare,  
The fairest temple of a guest so fair)  
Not that great Glorians self with this might ere compare.   

59  
Her radiant beauty, dazzling mortal eye,  
striketh blind the daring sense; her sparkling face  
Her husband's self now cannot well descry:  
With such strange brightness, such immortal grace,  
Hath that great parent in her cradle made,  
That Cynthia's silver cheek would quickly fade,  
And light itself to her would seem a painted shade.   

60  
But (ah!) enticed by her own worth and pride,  
She stained her beauty with most loathsome spot;  
Her Lords fixed law, and spouses light denied,  
So filled her spouse and self with leprous blot:  
And now all dark is their first morning ray.  
What verse might then their former light display,  
When yet their darkest night outshines the brightest day?   

61  
On her a royal damsel still attends,  
And faithful Counsellor, 
* Conscience.  Synteresis:  
For though Voletta ever good intends,  
Yet by fair ills she oft deceived is;  
By ills so fairly dressed with cunning slight,  
That Virtue's self they well may seem to sight,  
But that bright Virtue's self oft seems not half so bright.   

62  
Therefore Synteresis of nimble sight,  
Oft helps her doubtful hand, and erring eye;  
Else might she ever stumbling in this night  
Fall down as deep as deepest Tartary:  
Nay thence a sad-fair maid, Repentance, rears,  
And in her arms her fainting Lady bears,  
Washing her often stains with ever-falling tears.   

63  
Thereto she adds a water sovereign,  
Of wondrous force, and skilful composition:  
For first she pricks the heart in tender vein,  
Then from those precious drops, and deep contrition,  
With lips confession, and with pickled cries,  
Stilled in a broken spirit, sad vapours rise,  
Exhaled by sacred fires, and drop through melting eyes.   

64  
These cordial drops, these spirit-healing balms  
Cure all her sinful bruises, clear her eyes,  
Unlock her ears, recover fainting qualms:  
And now grown fresh and strong, she makes her rise,  
And glass of unmasked sin she bright displays,  
Whereby she sees, loathes, mends her former ways;  
So soon repairs her light, trebling her newborn rays.   

65  
But (ah!) why do we (simple as we been)  
With curious labour, dim and veiled sight,  
Prie in the nature of this King and Queen,  
Groping in darkness for so clear a light?  
A light which once could not be thought or told,  
But now with blackest clouds is thick enroled,  
Pressed down in captive chains, and penned in earthly mould.   

66  
Rather lament we this their wretched fate,  
(Ah wretched fate, and fatal wretchedness!)  
Unlike those former days, and first estate,  
When he espoused with melting happiness  
To fair Voletta, both their lights conspiring,  
He saw what e'er was fit for her requiring,  
And she to his clear sight would temper her desiring.   

67  
When both replenished with celestial light,  
All coming evils could foresee and fly;  
When both with clearest eye, and perfect sight  
Could every nature's difference descry:  
Whose pictures now they scarcely see with pain,  
Obscure and dark, like to those shadows vain,  
Which thin and empty glide along Avernus' plain.   

68  
The flowers that frighted with sharp winter's dread,  
Retire into their mother Tellus womb,  
Yet in the Spring in troops new mustered  
Peep out again from their unfrozen tomb:  
The early Violet will fresh arise,  
And spreading his flowered purple to the skies,  
Boldly the little elf the winter's spite defies.   

69  
The hedge green Satin pinked and cut arrays,  
The Heliotrope to cloth of gold aspires;  
In hundred-coloured silks the Tulip plays,  
Th' Imperial flower his neck with pearl attires,  
The Lily high her silver Grogram rears,  
The Pansie her wrought Velvet garment bears;  
The red Rose Scarlet, and the Provence Damask wears.   

70  
How falls it then that such an heavenly light,  
As this great Kings, should sink so wondrous low,  
That scarce he can suspect his former height?  
Can one eclipse so dark his shining brow,  
And steal away his beauty glittering fair?  
One only blot so great a light empair,  
That never could he hope his waning to repair?   

71  
Ah! never could he hope once to repair  
So great a wane, should not that newborn Sun  
Adopt him both his brother and his heir;  
Who through base life, and death, and hell would run,  
To seat him in his lost, now surer cell.  
That he may mount to heaven, he sunk to hell;  
That he might live, he died; that he might rise, he fell.   

72  
A perfect Virgin breeds and bears a Son,  
Th' immortal father of his mortal mother;  
Earth, heaven, flesh, spirit, man, God, are met in one:  
His younger brothers child, his children's brother,  
Eternity, who yet was born and died;  
His own creator, earth's scorn, heaven's pride;  
Who th' deity inflesht, and man's flesh deified.   

73  
Thou uncreated Sun, heaven's glory bright,  
Whom we with knees and hearts low bend adore;  
At rising, perfect, and now falling, light;  
Ah what reward, what thanks shall we restore?  
Thou wretched waist, that we might happy be:  
Oh all the good we hope, and all we see,  
That we thee know and love, comes from thy love, and thee.   

74  
Receive, which we can only back return,  
(Yet that we may return, thou first must give)  
A heart, which fain would smoke, which fain would burn  
In praise; for thee, to thee would only live:  
And thou (who satst in night to give us day)  
Light and inflame us with thy glorious ray,  
That we may back reflect, and borrowed light repay.   

75  
So we beholding with immortal eye  
The glorious picture of thy heavenly face,  
In his first beauty and true Majesty,  
May shake from our dull souls these fetters base;  
And mounting up to that bright crystal sphere,  
Whence thou strik'st all the world with shudd'ring fear,  
May not be held by earth, nor hold vile earth so dear.   

76  
Than should thy shepherd (poorest shepherd) sing  
A thousand Cantos in thy heavenly praise,  
And rouse his flagging Muse, and fluttering wing,  
To chant thy wonders in immortal lays,  
(Which once thou wroughtst, when Nilus slimy shore,  
Or Iordans banks thy mighty hand adore)  
Thy judgements, & thy mercies; but thy mercies more.   

77  
But see, the stealing night with softly pace,  
To fly the Western Sun, creeps up the East;  
Cold Hesper begins unmask his evening face,  
And calls the winking stars from drowsy rest:  
Home then my lambs; the falling drops eschew:  
To morrow shall ye feast in pastures new,  
And with the rising Sun banquet on pearled dew.    

CANT. VII.  

THe rising morn lifts up his orient head,  
And spangled heavens in golden robes invests;  
Thirsil up starting from his fearless bed,  
Where useless nights he safe and quiet rests,  
Unhoused his bleating flock, and quickly thence  
Hasting to his expecting audience,  
Thus with sad verse began their grieved minds incense:   

2  
Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness,  
And here long seeks what here is never found!  
For all our good we hold from heaven by lease,  
With many forfeits and conditions bound;  
Nor can we pay the fine and rentage due:  
Though now but writ, and sealed, and given anew,  
Yet daily we it break, then daily must renew.   

3  
Why shouldst thou here look for perpetual good,  
At every loss against heaven's face repining?  
Do but behold where glorious Cities stood,  
With gilded tops, and silver turrets shining;  
There now the Hart fearless of greyhound feeds,  
And loving Pelican in safety breeds;  
There shrieching Satyrs fill the people's empty steads.   

4  
Where is th' Assyrian Lions golden hide,  
That all the East once grasped in lordly paw?  
Where that great Persian Bear, whose swelling pride  
The Lion's self tore out with ravenous jaw?  
Or he which 'twixt a Lion, and a Pard,  
Through all the world with nimble pinions fared,  
And to his greedy whelps his conquered kingdoms shared?   

5  
Hardly the place of such antiquity,  
Or note of these great monarchies we find:  
Only a fading verbal memory,  
And empty name in writ is left behind:  
But when this second life, and glory fades,  
And sinks at length in times obscurer shades,  
A second fall succeeds, and double death invades.   

6  
That monstrous beast, which nursed in Tiber's fen,  
Did all the world with hideous shape affray;  
That filled with costly spoil his gaping den,  
And trod down all the rest to dust and clay:  
His battering horns pulled out by civil hands,  
And iron teeth lie scattered on the sands;  
Backed, bridled by a Monk, with seven heads yoked stands.   

7  
And that black 
* The Terk.  Vulture, which with deathful wing  
O'ershadows half the earth, whose dismal sight  
Frighted the Muses from their native spring,  
Already stoops, and flags with weary flight.  
Who then shall look for happiness beneath;  
Where each new day proclaims chance, change, and death,  
And life itself's as flit as is the air we breathe?   

8  
Ne might this Prince escape, though he as far  
All these excels in worth and heavenly grace,  
As brightest Phoebus does the dimmest star:  
The deepest falls are from the highest place.  
There lies he now bruised with so sore a fall,  
To his base bonds, and loathsome prison thrall,  
Whom thousand foes besiege, fenced with frail yielding wall.   

9  
Tell me, oh tell me then, thou holy Muse,  
Sacred Thespio, what the cause may be  
Of such despite, so many foemen use  
To persecute unpitied misery:  
Or if these cankered foes (as most men say)  
So mighty be, that gird this wall of clay;  
What makes it hold so long, and threatened ruin stay?   

10  
When that great Lord his standing Court would build,  
The outward walls with gems and glorious lights,  
But inward rooms with nobler Courtiers filled;  
Pure, living flames, swift, mighty, blessed spirits:  
But some his royal service (fools!) disdain;  
So down were flung: (oft bliss is double pain)  
In heaven they scorned to serve, so now in hell they reign.   

11  
There turned to serpents, swollen with pride and hate,  
Their Prince a Dragon fell, who burst with spite  
To see this Kings and Queens yet happy state,  
Tempts them to lust and pride, prevails by slight:  
To make them wise, and gods he undertakes.  
Thus while the snake they hear, they turn to snakes;  
To make them gods he boasts, but beasts, and devils makes.   

12  
But that great 
* Revel. 5.5.  Lion who in judah's plains  
The awful beasts holds down in due subjection,  
The Dragon's craft, and base-got spoil disdains,  
And folds this captive Prince in his protection;  

* Luke 4.18.  Breaks open the jail, & brings the prisoners thence,  
Yet placed them in this castles weak defence,  
Where they might trust and seek an higher providence.   

13  
So now spread round about this little hold,  
With armies infinite encamped lie  
Th' enraged Dragon and his Serpents bold:  
And knowing well his time grows short and nigh,  
He swells with venomed gore and poisonous heat;  

* Revel. 12.4.  His tail unfolded heaven itself doth beat,  
And sweeps the mighty stars from their transcendent seat.   

14  
With him goes 
* The flesh.  Caro, cursed dam of sin,  
Foul filthy dam of fouler progeny;  
Yet seems (skin-deep) most fair by witching gin  
To weaker sight; but to a purged eye  
Looks like (nay worse then) hells infernal hags:  
Her empty breasts hang like lank hollow bags,  
And Iris ulcered skin is patched with leprous rags.   

15  
Therefore her loathsome shape in steel arrayed,  
All rust within, the outside polished bright:  
And on her shield a Mermaid sung and played;  
Whose humane beauties ' lure the wand'ring sight,  
But slimy scales hid in their waters lie:  
She chants, she smiles, so draws the ear, the eye,  
And whom she wins, she kills: the word, Hear, gaze, & die.   

16  
And after march her fruitful serpent fry,  
Whom she of diverse lechers diverse bore;  
Marshaled in several ranks their colours fly:  

* The fruits of the flesh are described Gal. 5.19, 20, 21. and may be ranked into four companies, 1. of unchastity. 2. of Irreligion. 3. of Unrighteousness 4. of Intemperance.  Four to Anagnus, four this painted whore  
To loathsome Asebie brought forth to light;  
Twice four got Adisus, a hateful wight;  
But swollen Acrates two, born in one bed, and night.   

17  

* Adultery. Gal. 5.19.  Moechus the first, of blushless bold aspect;  
Yet with him Doubt and Fear still trembling go:  
Oft looked he back, as if he did suspect  
Th' approach of some unwisht, unwelcome foe:  
Behind, fell Jealousy his steps observed,  
And sure Revenge, with dart that never swerved:  
Ten thousand griefs and plagues he felt, but more deserved.   

18  
His armour black as hell, or starless night;  
And in his shield he lively portrayed bare  
Mars fast impound in arms of Venus' light,  
And tied as fast in Vulcan's subtle snare:  
She feigned to blush for shame now all too late;  
But his red colour seemed to sparkle hate:  
Sweet are stolen waters, round about the marge he wrote.   

19  

* Fornication.  Porneius next him paced, a meager wight;  
Whose leaden eyes sunk deep in swimming head,  
And joyless look, like some pale ashy spirit,  
Seemed as he now were dying, or now dead:  
And with him Wastefulness, that all expended,  
And Want, that still in theft and prison ended:  
A hundred foul diseases close at's back attended.   

20  
His shining helm might seem a sparkling flame,  
Yet soothe nought was it but a foolish fire:  
And all his arms were of that burning frame,  
That flesh and bones were gnawn with hot desire:  
About his wrist his blazing shield did fry  
With sweltering hearts in flame of luxury:  
His word, In fire I live, in fire I burn and die.   

21  
With him 
* Sodomy. Rom. 1.26, 27. Levit. 20.15, 16.  Acatharus in Tuscan guise;  
A thing, that neither man will own, nor beast:  
Upon a boy he leaned in wanton wise,  
On whose fair limbs his eyes still greedy feast;  
He sport's, he toys, kisses his shining face:  
Behind, reproach and thousand devils pace;  
Before, bold Impudence, that cannot change her grace.   

22  
His armour seemed to laugh with idle boys,  
Which all about their wanton sport played;  
all's would himself help out their childish toys,  
And like a boy lend them unmanly aid:  
In his broad targe the bird her wings dispread,  
Which trussing wafts the Trojan Ganymed:  
And round was writ, Like with his like is coupled.   

23  

* Lasciviousness.  Aselges followed next, the boldest boy,  
That ever played in Venus wanton court:  
He little cares who notes his lavish joy;  
Broad were his jests, wild his uncivil sport;  
His fashion too too fond, and loosely light:  
A long love-lock on his left shoulder plight,  
Like to a woman's hair, well showed a woman's spirit.   

24  
Lust in strange nests this Cuckoo egg conceived;  
Which nursed with surfeits, dressed with fond disguises,  
In fancies school his breeding first received:  
So this brave spark to wilder flame arises;  
And now to court preferred, high bloods he fires,  
There blows up pride, vain mirths and loose desires;  
And heavenly souls (oh grief!) with hellish flame inspires.   

25  
There oft to rivals lends the gentle Dor,  
Oft takes (his mistress by) the bitter Bob:  
There learns her each days change of Gules, Verd, Or,  
(His sampler) if she pouts, her slave must sob:  
Her face his sphere, her hair his circling sky;  
Her love his heaven, her sight eternity:  
Of her he dreams, with her he lives, for her he'll die.   

26  
Upon his arm a tinsel scarf he wore,  
Forsooth his Madam's favour, spangled fair:  
Light as himself, a fan his helmet bore,  
With ribbons dressed, begged from his Mistress hair:  
On's shield a winged boy all naked shined;  
His folded eyes willing and wilful blind:  
The word was wrought with gold, Such is a lover's mind.   

27  
These four, Anagnus and foul Caro's sons,  
Who led a different, and disordered rout;  
Fancy, a lad that all in feathers won,  
And loose desire, and danger linked with doubt;  
And thousand wanton thoughts still budding new:  
But lazy ease ushered the idle crew;  
And lame disease shuts up their troops with torments due.   

28  
Next band by Asebie was boldly led,  
And his four sons, begot in Stygian night:  
First 
* Idolatry, either by worshipping the true God by false worship; as by images, against the second commandment: or giving away his worship to any thing that is not God, against the first.  Idololatros, whose monstrous head  
Was like an ugly fiend, his flaming sight  
Like blazing stars; the rest all different:  
For to his shape some part each creature lent,  
But to the great Creator all adversly bend.   

29  
Upon his breast a bloody Cross he scored,  
Which oft he worshipped; but the Christ that died  
Thereon, he seldom but in paint adored;  
Yet wood, stone, beasts, wealth, lusts, fiends deified:  
He makes mere pageants of the 
* Psal. 62.7.  saving Rock,  
Puppetlike trimming his Almighty stock:  
Which then, his god or he, which is the verier block?   

30  
Of Giant shape, and strength thereto agreeing,  
Wherewith he whilom all the world oppressed;  
And yet the greater part his vassals being,  
Slumbering in ignorance, securely rest:  
A golden calf (himself more beast) he bore;  
Which brutes with dance, gifts, and songs adore:  
Idols are laymen's books, he round had wrote in Ore.   

31  
Next 
* Witchcraft and curious arts.  Pharmacus, of ghastly wild aspect;  
Whom hell with seeming fear, and fiends obey:  
Full easily would he know each past effect,  
And things to come with double guests foresay,  
By slain beasts entrails, and fowls marked flight:  
Thereto he tempests raised by many a spirit,  
And charmed the Sun and Moon, & changed the day and night.   

32  
So when the South (dipping his fablest wings  
In humid Ocean) sweeps with's dropping beard  
Th' air, earth, and seas; his lips loud thunderings  
And flashing eyes make all the world afeard:  
Light with dark clouds, waters with fires are met:  
The Sun but now is rising, now is set;  
And finds west-shades in East, and seas in airs wet.   

33  
By birth, and hand, he juggling fortunes tells;  
Oft brings from shades his grandsires damned ghost;  
Oft stolen goods forces out by wicked spells:  
His frightful shield with thousand fiends embossed,  
Which seemed without a circles ring to play:  
In midst himself dampens the smiling day,  
And prints sad characters, which none may write, or say.   

34  
The third 
* Heresy.  Haereticus, a wrangling carl,  
Who in the way to heaven would wilful err;  
And oft convicted, still would snatch and snarl:  
His Crambe oft repeats; all tongue, no ear.  
Him obstinacy, Pride, and Scorn attended:  
On's shield with Truth Error disguised contended:  
His Motto this, Rather thus err, then be amended.   

35  
Last marched Hypocrisy, false form of grace,  
That vaunts the show of all, has truth of none:  
A rotten heart he masks with painted face;  
Among the beasts a mule, 'mong bees a drone,  
'Mong stars a meteor: all the world neglects him;  
Nor good, nor bad, nor heaven, nor earth affects him:  
The earth for glaring forms, for bare forms heaven rejects him.   

36  
His wanton heart he vails with dewy eyes,  
So oft the world, and oft himself deceives:  
His tongue his heart, his hands his tongue belies:  
In's path (as snails) silver, but slime he leaves:  
He Babel's glory is, but Zions taint;  
Religions blot, but Irreligions paint:  
A Saint abroad, at home a Fiend; and worst a Saint.   

37  
So tallow lights live glitt'ring, stinking die;  
Their gleams aggrate the sight, steams wound the smell:  
So Sodom apples please the ravished eye,  
But sulphur taste proclaims their root's in hell:  
So airy flames to heavenly seem allied;  
But when their oil is spent, they swiftly glide,  
And into jellyed mire melt all their gilded pride.   

38  
So rushes green, smooth, full, are spongy light;  
So their ragged stones in velvet peaches gown:  
So rotten sticks seem stars in cheating night;  
So quagmires false their mire with emeralds crown:  
Such is Hypocrisies deceitful frame;  
A stinking light, a sulphur fruit, false flame,  
Smooth rush, hard peach, sear wood, false mire, a voice, a name.   

39  
Such were his arms, false gold, true alchemy;  
glittering with glassy stones, and fine deceit:  
His sword a flattering steel, which gulled the eye,  
And pierced the heart with pride and self-conceit:  
On's shield a tomb, where death had dressed his bed  
With curious art, and crowned his loathsome head  
With gold, & gems: his word, More gorgeous when dead.   

40  
Before them went their nurse, bold Ignorance;  
A loathsome monster, light, sight, 'mendment scorning:  
Born deaf and blind, fitter to lead the dance  
To such a rout; her silver heads adorning  
(Her dotage index) much she bragged, yet feigned:  
For by false tallies many years she gained.  
Wise youth is honoured age; fond's age with dotage stained.   

41  
Her failing legs with erring footsteps reeled;  
(Lame guide to bliss!) her daughters on each side  
Much pained themselves her stumbling feet to wield;  
Both like their mother, dull and beetle-eyed:  
The first was Error false, who multiplies  
Her numerous race in endless progenies:  
For but one truth there is, ten thousand thousand lies.   

42  
Her brood o'erspread her round with sin and blood,  
With envy, malice, mischiefs infinite;  
While she to see herself amazed stood,  
So often got with child and big with spite:  
Her offspring fly about & spread their seed;  
Strait hate, pride, schism, wars & seditions breed,  
Get up, grow ripe. How soon prospers the vicious weed!   

43  
The other Owl-eyed Superstition,  
Deformed, distorted, blind in shining light;  
Yet styles herself holy Devotion,  
And so is called, and seems in shady night:  
Fearful, as is the hare, or hunted hind;  
Her face and breast she oft with crosses signed:  
No custom would she break, or change her settled mind.   

44  
If hare or snake her way, herself she crosses,  
And stops her'mazed steps; sad fears affright her,  
When falling salt points out some fatal losses,  
Till Bacchus' grapes with holy sprinkle quite her:  
Her only bible is an Erra Pater;  
Her antidote are hallowed wax and water:  
I' th' dark all lights are spirits, all noises chains that clatter.   

45  
With them marched (sunk in deep security)  
Profaneness, to be feared for never fearing;  
And by him, new-oaths-coyning Blasphemy,  
Who names not God, but in a curse, or swearing:  
And thousand other fiends in divers fashion,  
Disposed in several ward, and certain station:  
Under, Hell widely yawned; and over, flew Damnation.   

46  
Next Adicus his sons; first 
* Hatred.  Ecthros sly,  
Whose prickt-up ears kept open house for lies;  
And sleering eyes still watch and wait to spy  
When to return still-living injuries:  
Fair weather smiled upon his painted face,  
And eyes spoke peace, till he had time and place;  
Then pours down showers of rage, and streams of rancour base.   

47  
So when a sable cloud with swelling sail  
Comes swimming through calm skies, the silent air  
(While fierce winds sleep in Aeols rocky jail)  
With spangled beams embroid'red, glitters fair;  
But soon begins lowr: strait clatt'ring hail is bred,  
Scattering cold shot; light hides his golden head,  
And with untimely winter earth's o're-silvered.   

48  
His arms well suit his mind, where smiling skies  
Breed thundering tempests: on his lofty crest  
Asleep the spotted Panther couching lies,  
And by sweet scents and skin so quaintly dressed,  
Draws on her prey: upon his shield he bears  
The dreadful monster which great Nilus' fears;  
(The weeping Crocodile) his word, I kill with tears.   

49  
With him Dissemblance went, his Paramour,  
Whose painted face might hardly be detected:  
Arms of offence he seld ' or never wore,  
Lest thence his close designs might be suspected;  
But clasping close his foe, as loath to part,  
He steals his dagger with false smiling art,  
And sheaths the traitorous steel in his own master's heart.   

50  
Two jewish Captains, close themselves enlacing  
In loves sweet twines, his target broad displayed;  
One th' others beard with his left hand embracing,  
But in his right a shining sword he swayed,  
Which unawares through th' others ribs he smites;  
There lay the wretch without all burial rites:  
His word, He deepest wounds, that in his fawning bites.   

51  

* Variance.  Eris the next, of sex unfit for war:  
Her arms were bitter words from flaming tongue,  
Which never quiet, wrangle, fight, and jar;  
Ne would she weigh report with right, or wrong:  
What once she held, that would she ever hold,  
And Non-obstantes force with courage bold:  
The last word must she have, or never leave to scold.   

52  
She is the trumpet to this angry train,  
And whets their fury with loud-railing spite:  
But when no open foes did more remain,  
Against themselves themselves she would incite.  
Her clacking mill, driven by her flowing gall,  
Could never stand, but chide, rail, bark, and bawl:  
Her shield no word could find; her tongue engrossed them all.   

53  

* Emulation▪  Zelos the third, whose spiteful emulation  
Could not endure a fellow in excelling;  
Yet slow in any virtue's imitation,  
At easy rate that fair possession selling:  
Still as he went, he hidden sparkles blue,  
Till to a mighty flame they sudden grew,  
And like fierce lightning all in quick destruction drew.   

54  
Upon his shield lay that Tirinthian Swain,  
Sweltering in fiery gore and poisonous flame;  
His wives sad gift venomed with bloody stain:  
Well could he bulls, snake, shell, all monsters tame;  
Well could he heaven support and prop alone;  
But by fell Jealousy soon overthrown,  
Without a foe, or sword: his motto, First, or none.   

55  

* Wrath  Thumos the fourth, a dire, revengeful swain;  
Whose soul was made of flames, whose flesh of fire:  
Wrath in his heart, hate, rage and fury reign;  
Fierce was his look, when clad in sparkling tire;  
But when dead paleness in his cheek took seizure,  
And all the blood in's boiling heart did treasure,  
Then in his wild revenge kept he nor mean, nor measure.   

56  
Look as when waters walled with brazen wreath  
Are sieged with crackling flames, their common foe;  
The angry seas begin foam and hotly breathe,  
Then swell, rise, rave, and still more furious grow;  
Nor can be held, but forced with fires below,  
Tossing their waves, break out and all o'erflow:  
So boiled his rising blood, and dashed his angry brow.   

57  
For in his face red heat, and ashy cold  
Strove which should paint revenge in proper colours:  
That, like consuming fire, most dreadful rolled;  
This, liker death, threatens all deadly dolours:  
His trembling hand a dagger still embraced,  
Which in his friend he rashly oft encased:  
His shields devise fresh blood with foulest stain defaced.   

58  
Next him 
* Strife.  Erithius, most unquiet swain,  
That all in law and fond contention spent;  
Not one was found in all this numerous train,  
With whom in any thing he would consent:  
His Will his Law, he weighed not wrong or right;  
Much scorned to bear, much more forgive a spite:  
Patience he th' asses load, and coward's Virtue hight.   

59  
His weapons all were framed of shining gold,  
Wherewith he subtly fought close under hand:  
Thus would he right from right by force withhold,  
Nor suits, nor friends, nor laws his slights withstand:  
Ah powerful weapon! how dost thou bewitch  
Great, but base minds, & spott'st with leprous itch,  
That never are in thought, nor ever can be rich!   

60  
Upon his belt (fastened with leather laces)  
Black boxes hung, sheaths of his paper-swords;  
Filled up with Writs, Sub-poena's, Triall-cases;  
This trespassed him in cattle, that in words:  
Fit his device, and well his shield became,  
A Salamander drawn in lively frame:  
His word was this, I live, I breathe, I feed in flame.   

61  
Next after him marched proud 
* Sedition or Schism.  Dichostasis,  
That want but in the factious court to dwell;  
But now to shepherd-swains close linked is;  
And taught them (fools!) to change their humble cell,  
And lowly weed for courts, and purple gay,  
To sit aloft, and States and Princes sway:  
A hook, no sceptre needs our erring sheep to stay.   

62  
A Mitre trebly crowned th' Impostor wore;  
For heaven, earth, hell he claims with lofty pride.  
Not in his lips, but hands, two keys he bore,  
heavens doors and hells to shut, and open wide:  
But late his keys are marred, or broken quite:  
For hell he cannot shut, but opens light;  
Nor heaven can open, but shut; nor buys, but sells by slight.   

63  
Two heads, oft three, he in one body had,  
Nor with the body, nor themselves agreeing▪  
What this commanded, th' other soon forbade;  
As different in rule, as nature being:  
The body to them both, and neither prone,  
Was like a double-hearted dealer grown;  
Endeavouring to please both parties, pleasing none.   

64  
As when the powerful wind and adverse tide  
Strive which should most command the subject main;  
The scornful waves, swelling with angry pride,  
Yielding to neither, all their force disdain:  
Mean time the shaken vessel doubtful plays,  
And on the staggering billow trembling stays,  
And would obey them both, and none of both obeys.   

65  
A subtle craftsman framed him seemly arms,  
Forged in the shop of wrangling sophistry;  
And wrought with curious arts, and mighty charms,  
Tempered with lies, and false philosophy:  
Millions of heedless souls thus had he slain.  
His sev'n-fold targe a field of Gules did slain;  
In which two swords he bore: his word, Divide, and reign.   

66  
Envy the next, Envy with squinted eyes;  
Sick of a strange disease, his neighbour's health:  
Best lives he then, when any better dies;  
Is never poor, but in another's wealth:  
On best men's harms and griefs he feeds his fill;  
Else his own maw doth eat with spiteful will.  
Ill must the temper be, where diet is so ill.   

67  
Each eye through diverse optics slily leers,  
Which both his sight, and object self belie;  
So greatest virtue as a mote appears,  
And molehill faults to mountains multiply.  
When needs he must, yet faintly, than he praises;  
Somewhat the deed, much more the means he raises:  
So marreth what he makes, & praising most dispraises.   

68  
Upon his shield that cruel Herd-groom played,  
Fit instrument of Juno's jealous spite;  
His hundred eyes stood fixed on the maid;  
He piped, she sighed: his word, Her day my night.  
His missile weapon was a lying tongue,  
Which he far off like swiftest lightning flung,  
That all the world with noise & foul blaspheming rung.   

69  
Last of this rout the savage 
* Murder.  Phonos went,  
Whom his dire mother nursed with humane blood;  
And when more age and strength more fierceness lent,  
She taught him in a dark and desert wood  
With force and guile poor passengers to slay,  
And on their flesh his barking stomach stay,  
And with their wretched blood his fiery thirst allay.   

70  
So when the never-setled Scythian  
Removes his dwelling in an empty wain;  
When now the Sun hath half his journey ran,  
His horse he bloods, and pricks a trembling vein,  
So from the wound quenches his thirsty heat:  
Yet worse, this fiend makes his own flesh his meat.  
Monster! the ravenous bear his kind will never eat.   

71  
Ten thousand Furies on his steps awaited;  
Some seared his hardened soul with Stygian brand:  
Some with black terrors his faint conscience baited,  
That wide he stared, and starched hair did stand:  
The firstborn man still in his mind he bore,  
Foully arrayed in guiltless brother's gore,  
Which for revenge to heaven from earth did loudly roar.   

72  
His arms offensive all, to spill, not spare;  
Swords, pistols, poisons, instruments of hell:  
A shield he wore (not that the wretch did care  
To save his flesh, oft he himself would quell)  
For show, not use: on it a viper swilling  
The dams spilt gore, his empty bowels filling  
With flesh that gave him life: his word, I live by killing.   

73  
And last his brutish sons Acrates sent,  
Whom Caro bore both in one birth and bed;  

* Drunkenness.  Methos the first, whose paunch his feet outwent,  
As if it ushered his unsettled head:  
His soul quite soused lay in grapie blood;  
In all his parts the idle dropsy stood;  
Which, though already drowned, still thirsted for the flood.   

74  
This thing, nor man, nor beast, tons all his wealth  
In drink, his days, his years in liquor drenching:  
So quaffs he sickness down by quaffing health,  
Firing his cheeks with quenching, strangely quenching  
His eyes with firing; dull and faint they rolled:  
But nimble lips known things, and hid unfold;  
Belchings, oft-sips, large spits point the long tale he told.   

75  
His armour green might seem a fruitful vine;  
The clusters prisoned in the close-set leaves,  
Yet oft between the bloody grape did shine;  
And peeping forth, his jaylers' spite deceives:  
Among the boughs did swilling Bacchus ride,  
Whom wilde-grown Moenads bore, and every stride  
Bacche, jon Bacche, loud with madding voice they cried.   

76  
On's shield the goatish Satyrs dance around,  
(Their heads much lighter than their nimble heels)  
Silenus old, in wine (as ever) drowned,  
Closed with the ring, in midst (though sitting) reels:  
Under his arm a bagpipe swollen he held,  
(Yet wine-swoln cheeks the windy bag out-swelled)  
So loudly pipes: his word, But full, no mirth I yield.   

77  
Insatiate sink, how with so general stain  
Thy spu'd-out puddles court, town, fields entice!  
Ay me! the shepherd's selves thee entertain,  
And to thy Curtain gulf do sacrifice:  
All drink to spew, and spew again to drink.  
Sour swil-tub sin, of all the rest the sink,  
How canst thou thus bewitch with thy abhorred stink?   

78  
The eye thou wrong'st with vomits reeking streams,  
The ear with belching; touch thou drownest in wine;  
The taste thou surfet'st; smell with spewing steams  
Thou woundest: foh! thou loathsome putrid swine,  
Still thou increasest thirst, when thirst thou slakest;  
The mind and will thou (wits bane) captive takest:  
Senseless thy hoggish filth, & sense thou senseless makest.   

79  
Thy fellow sins, and all the rest of vices  
With seeming good are fairly clothed to sight;  
Their feigned sweet the blear-eyed will entices,  
Cozening the dazzled sense with borrowed light:  
Thee neither true, nor yet false good commends;  
Profit nor pleasure on thy steps attends:  
Folly begins thy sin, which still with madness ends.   

80  
With Methos, Gluttony, his gutling brother,  
Twin parallels, drawn from the selfsame line;  
So foully like was either to the other,  
And both most like a monstrous-panched swine:  
His life was either a continued feast,  
Whose surfeits upon surfeits him oppressed;  
Or heavy sleep, that helps so great a load digest.   

81  
Mean time his soul, weighed down with muddy chains,  
Can neither work, nor move in captive bands;  
But dulled in vaprous fogs, all careless reigns,  
Or rather serves strong appetites commands:  
That when he now was gorged with cramm'd-down store,  
And porter wanting room had shut the door,  
The glutton sighed that he could gourmandize no more.   

82  
His crane-like neck was long unlaced; his breast,  
His gouty limbs, like to a circle round,  
As broad as long; and for his spear in rest  
Oft with his staff he beats the yielding ground;  
Wherewith his hands did help his feet to bear,  
Else would they ill so huge a burden steer:  
His clothes were all of leaves, no armour could he wear.   

83  
Only a target light upon his arm  
He careless bore, on which old Gryll was drawn,  
Transformed into a hog with cunning charm;  
In head, and paunch, and soul itself a brawn:  
Half drowned within, without, yet still did hunt  
In his deep trough for swill, as he was wont;  
Cased all in loathsome mire: no word; Gryll could but grunt.   

84  
Him served sweet-seeming lusts, self-pleasing lies;  
But bitter death flowed from those sweets of sin:  
And at the Rear of these in secret guise  
Crept Thievery, and Detraction, near akin;  
No twins more like: they seemed almost the same;  
One stole the goods, the other the good name:  
The latter lives in scorn, the former dies in shame.   

85  
Their boon companions in their jovial feasting  
Were new-shapt oaths, and damning perjuries:  
Their cates, fit for their taste, profanest jesting,  
Sauced with the salt of hell, dire blasphemies.  
But till th'ambitious Sun, yet still aspiring,  
Alleys his flaming gold with gentler firing,  
We'll rest our weary song in that thick groves retiring.    

CANT. VIII.  

THe Sun began to slack his bended bow,  
And more obliquely dart his milder ray;  
When cooler airs gently began to blow,  
And fan the fields parched with the scorching day:  
The shepherds to their wont seats repair;  
Thirsil, refreshed with this soft-breathing air,  
Thus began renew his task, and broken song repair:   

2  
What watchful care must fence that weary state,  
Which deadly foes begirt with cruel siege;  
And frailest wall of glass, and traitorous gate  
Strive which should first yield up their woeful liege?  
By enemies assailed, by friends betrayed;  
When others hurt, himself refuses aid:  
By weakness self his strength is foiled and overlayed.   

3  
How comes it then that in so near decay  
We deadly sleep in deep security,  
When every hour is ready to betray  
Our lives to that still-watching enemy?  
Wake then thy soul that deadly slumbereth:  
For when thy foe hath seized thy captive breath,  
Too late to wish past life, too late to wish for death.   

4  
Caro the Vanguard with the Dragon led,  

* The World or Mammon.  Cosmos the battle guides, with loud alarms;  
Cosmos, the first son to the Dragon red,  
Shining in seeming gold, and glittering arms:  
Well might he seem a strong and gentle Knight,  
As e'er was clad in steel and armour bright;  
But was a recreant base, a foul, false, cheating spirit.   

5  
And as himself, such were his arms; appearing  
Bright burnished gold, indeed base alchemy,  
Dim beetle eyes, and greedy worldlings blearing:  
His shield was dressed in nights sad livery,  
Where manlike Apes a Gloworm compass round,  
Glad that in wintry night they fire had found;  
Busy they puff & blow: the word, Mistake the ground.   

6  
Mistake points all his darts; his sunshines bright  
(Mistaken) light appear, sad lightning prove:  
His clouds (mistake) seem lightnings, turn to light;  
His love true hatred is, his hatred love;  
His shop, a Pedlar's pack of apish fashion;  
His honours, pleasures, joys are all vexation:  
His wages, glorious care, sweet surfeits, wooed damnation.   

7  
His liberal favours, complemental arts;  
His high advancements, Alpine slipp'ry straits;  
His smiling glances, deaths most pleasing darts;  
And (what he vaunts) his gifts are gilded baits:  
Indeed he nothing is, yet all appears.  
Hapless earth's happy fools, that know no tears!  
Who baths in worldly joys, swims in a world of fears.   

8  
Pure Essence, who hast made a stone descry  
'Twixt natures hid, and check that metals pride  
That dares aspire to golds high sovereignty;  
Ah leave some touchstone erring eyes to guide,  
And judge dissemblance; see by what devices  
Sin with fair gloss our mole-eyed sight entices,  
That vices virtues seem to most; and virtues, vices.   

9  
Strip thou their meretricious seemliness,  
And tinfold glittering bare to every sight,  
That we may loathe their inward ugliness;  
Or else uncloud the soul, whose shady light  
Adds a fair lustre to false earthly bliss:  
Thine and their beauty differs but in this;  
Theirs what it is not, seems; thine seems not what it is.   

10  
Next to the Captain coward 
* Fearfulness.  Deilos fared;  
Him right before he as his shield projected,  
And following troops to back him as his guard;  
Yet both his shield and guard (faint heart) suspected:  
And sending often back his doubtful eye,  
By fearing taught unthought of treachery;  
So made him enemies, by fearing enmity.   

11  
Still did he look for some ensuing cross,  
Fearing such hap as never man befell:  
No mean he knows, but dreads each little loss  
(With tyranny of fear distraught) as hell.  
His sense he dare not trust, (nor eyes, nor ears)  
And when no other cause of fright appears,  
Himself he much suspects, and fears his causeless fears.   

12  
Harnessed with massy steel, for fence, not fight;  
His sword unseemly long he ready drew:  
At sudden shine of his own armour bright  
He started oft, and stared with ghastly hue:  
He shrieks at every danger that appears,  
Shaming the knightly arms he goodly bears:  
His word, Safer that all, than he that nothing fears.   

13  
With him went Doubt, staggering with steps unsure,  
That every way, and neither way inclined;  
And fond Distrust, whom nothing could secure;  
Suspicion lean, as if he never dined:  
He keeps intelligence by thousand spies;  
Argus to him bequeathed his hundred eyes:  
So waking still he sleeps, and sleeping wakeful lies.   

14  
Fond Deilos all, 
* Overboldnesse, or foolhardiness.  Tolmetes nothing fears;  
Just frights he laughs, all terrors counteth base;  
And when of danger, or sad news he hears,  
He meets the thundering fortune face to face:  
Yet oft in words he spends his boisterous threat;  
That his hot blood, driven from the native seat,  
Leaves his 
* The Philosopher rightly calls such 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Ethic. 3. cap. 7. not only foolhardy, but fainthardy.  faint coward heart empty of lively heat.   

15  
Himself (weak help!) was all his confidence;  
He scorns low ebbs, but swims in highest rises:  
His limbs with arms or shield he would not fence;  
Such coward fashion (fool!) he much despises:  
Even for his single sword the world seems scant;  
For hundred worlds his conquering arm could daunt:  
Much would he boldly do, but much more boldly vaunt.   

16  
With him went self-admiring Arrogance,  
And Bragge, his deeds without an helper praising:  
Blind Carelessness before would lead the dance;  
Fear stole behind, those vaunts in balance peysing,  
Which far their deeds outweighed; their violence,  
'Fore danger spent with lavish diffluence,  
Was none, or weak in time of greatest exigence.   

17  
As when a fiery courser ready bend,  
Puts forth himself at first with swiftest pace;  
Till with too sudden flash his spirits spent,  
Already fails now in the middle race:  
His hanging crest far from his wont pride,  
No longer now obeys his angry guide;  
Rivers of sweat and blood flow from his gored side:   

18  
Thus ran the rash Tolmetes, never viewing  
The fearful fiends that duly him attended;  
Destruction close his steps in post pursuing,  
And certain ruins heavy weights depended  
Over his cursed head, and smooth-faced guile,  
That with him oft would loosely play and smile;  
Till in his snare he locked his feet with treacherous wile.   

19  
Next marched 
* Prodigality.  Asotus, carelesse-spending Swain;  
Who with a fork went spreading all around,  
Which his old sire with sweeting toil and pain  
Long time was raking from his racked ground:  
In giving he observed nor form, nor matter,  

* Arist. Eth. 4.  But best reward he got, that best could flatter;  
Thus what he thought to give, he did not give, but scatter.   

20  
Before arrayed in sumptuous bravery,  
Decked courtlike in the choice and newest guise;  
But all behind like drudging slavery,  
With ragged patches, rend, and bared thighs:  
His shameful parts, that shun the hated light,  
Were naked left; (ah foul unhonest sight!)  
Yet neither could he see, nor feel his wretched plight.   

21  
His shield presents to life deaths latest rites,  
A sad black hearse born up with sable swains;  
Which many idle grooms with hundred lights  
(Tapers, lamps, torches) usher through the plains  
To endless darkness; while the Sun's bright brow  
With fiery beams quenches their smoking tow,  
And wastes their idle cost: the word, Not need, but show.   

22  
A vagrant rout (a shoal of tattling daws)  
Strew him with vain-spent prayers, and idle lays;  
And flatt'rie to his sin close curtains draws,  
Clawing his itching ear with tickling praise:  
Behind, fond pity much his fall lamented,  
And misery, that former waste repent:  
The usurer for his goods, jail for his bones indented.   

23  
His steward was his kinsman, Vain-expence,  
Who proudly strove in matters light to show  
Heroic mind in braggart affluence;  
So lost his treasure, getting nought in lieu,  
But ostentation of a foolish pride;  
While women fond, and boys stood gaping wide;  
But wise men all his waste and needless cost deride.   

24  
Next 
* Covetousness.  Pleonectes went, his gold admiring,  
His servants drudge, slave to his basest slave;  
Never enough, and still too much desiring:  
His gold his god, yet in an iron grave  
Himself protects his god from noisome rusting;  
Much fears to keep, much more to lose his lusting;  
Himself, and golden god, and every god mistrusting.   

25  
Age on his hairs the winter snow had spread;  
That silver badge his near end plainly proves:  
Yet as to 
* Arist. Eth.  earth he nearer bows his head,  
So loves it more; for Like his like still loves.  
Deep from the ground he digs his sweetest gain,  
And deep into the earth digs back with pain:  
From hell his gold he brings, and hoards in hell again.   

26  
His clothes all patched with more than honest thrift,  
And clouted shoes were nailed for fear of wasting;  
Fasting he praised, but sparing was his drift;  
And when he eats, his food is worse than fasting:  
Thus starves in store, thus doth in plenty pine,  
Thus wallowing on his god, his heap of Mine,  
He feeds his famished soul with that deceiving shine.   

27  
Oh hungry metal, false deceitful ray,  
Well laidst thou dark, pressed in th' earth's hidden womb;  
Yet through our mother's entrails cutting way,  
We drag thy buried coarse from hellish tomb:  
The merchant from his wife and home departs,  
Nor at the swelling ocean ever starts;  
While death & life a wall of thin planks only parts.   

28  
Who was it first, that from thy deepest cell,  
With so much costly toil and painful sweat  
Durst rob thy palace, bordering next to hell?  
Well mayst thou come from that infernal seat;  
Thou all the world with hell-black deeps dost fill.  
Fond men, that with such pain do woo your ill!  
Needless to send for grief, for he is next us still.   

29  
His arms were light, and cheap, as made to save  
His purse, not limbs; the money, not the man:  
Rather he dies, then spends: his helmet brave,  
An old brass pot; breastplate a dripping-pan:  
His spear a spit, a potlid broad his shield,  
Whose smoky plain a chalked Impresa filled,  
A bag sure sealed: his word, Much better saved, then spilled.   

30  
By Pleonectes shameless Sparing went,  
Who whines and weeps to beg a longer day,  
Yet with a thundering voice claims tardy rent;  
Quick to receive, but hard and slow to pay:  
His care's to lessen cost with cunning base;  
But when he's forced beyond his bounded space,  
Loud would he cry, & howl, while others laugh apace.   

31  
Long after went 
* Feeble-mindednesse.  Pusillus, weakest heart,  
Able to serve, and able to command,  
But thought himself unfit for either part;  
And now full loath, amidst the warlike band  
Was hither drawn by force from quiet cell:  
Loneness his heaven, and business was his hell.  
A weak distrustful heart is virtues aguish spell.   

32  
His goodly arms, eaten with shameful rust;  
Bewrayed their master's ease, and want of using;  
Such was his mind, tainted with idle must,  
His goodly gifts with little use abusing:  
Upon his shield was drawn that noble Swain  
That loath to change his love and quiet reign  
For glorious warlike deeds, did crafty madness feign.   

33  
Finely the workman framed the toilsome plough  
Drawn with an ox and ass, unequal pair;  
While he with busy hand his salt did sow,  
And at the furrows end his dearest heir  
Did helpless lie, and Greek lords watching still  
Observed his hand guided with careful will:  
About was wrote, Who nothing doth, doth nothing ill.   

34  
By him went Idleness, his loved friend,  
And Shame with both; with all, ragged Poverty:  
Behind sure Punishment did close attend,  
Waiting a while fit opportunity;  
And taking count of hours misspent in vain,  
And graces lent without returning gain,  
Poured on his guilty corpse late grief, & helpless pain.   

35  
This dull cold earth with standing water froze;  
At ease he lies to coin pretence for ease;  
His soul like Ahaz dial, while it goes  
Not forward, posteth backward ten degrees:  
In's couch he's pliant wax for fiends to seal;  
He never sweats, but in his bed, or meal:  
He'd rather steal than work, and beg then strive to steal.   

36  
All opposite, though he his brother were,  
Was 
* Arrogancy.  Chaunus, that too high himself esteemed:  
All things he undertook, nor could he fear  
His power too weak, or boasted strength misdeemed,  
With his own praise like windy bladder blown:  
His eyes too little, or too much his own;  
For 
* The arrogant are more stupid. Arist. Ethic. 4.  known to all men weak, was to himself unknown.   

37  
Fondly himself with praising he dispraised,  
Vaunting his deeds and worth with idle breath;  
So razed himself, what he himself had raised:  
On's shield a boy threatens high Phoebus' death,  
Aiming his arrow at his purest light;  
But soon the thin reed, fired with lightning bright,  
Feel idly on the strand: his word, Yet high, and right.   

38  
Next brave 
* Ambition.  Philotimus in post did ride:  
Like rising ladders was his climbing mind;  
His high-flown thoughts had wings of courtly pride,  
Which by foul rise to greatest height inclined;  
His heart aspiring swelled until it burst:  
But when he gained the top, with spite accursed  
Down would he fling the steps by which he clamb'red first.   

39  
His head's a shop furnished with looms of state:  
His brain the weaver, thoughts are shuttles light,  
With which in spite of heaven he weaves his fate;  
Honour his web: thus works he day and night,  
Till fates cut off his thread; so heapeth sins  
And plagues, nor once enjoys the place he wins;  
But where his old race ends, there his new race begins.   

40  
Ah silly man, who dreamest that honour stands  
In ruling others, not thyself! thy slaves  
Serve thee, and thou thy slaves: in iron bands  
Thy servile spirit pressed with wild passions raves.  
Wouldst thou live honoured? clip ambition's wing;  
To reason's yoke thy furious passions bring:  
Thrice noble is the man, who of himself is King.   

41  
Upon his shield was framed that venturous lad,  
That durst assay the Sun's bright-flaming team;  
Spite of his feeble hands, the horses mad  
Fling down on burning earth the scorching beam;  
So made the flame in which himself was fired;  
The world the bonfire was, where he expired:  
His motto written thus, Yet had what he desired.   

42  
But 
* Baseness of mind.  Atimus, a careless idle swain,  
Though Glory offered him her sweet embrace,  
And fair Occasion with little pain  
Reached him her ivory hand, yet (lozel base!)  
Rather his way, and her fair self declined;  
Well did he thence prove his degenerous mind:  
Base were his resty thoughts, base was his dunghill kind.   

43  
And now by force dragged from the monkish cell,  
(Where teeth he only used, nor hands, nor brains,  
But in smooth streams swum down through ease to hell;  
His work to eat, drink, sleep, and purge his reins)  
He left his heart behind him with his feast:  
His target with a flying dart was dressed,  
Posting unto his mark: the word, I move to rest.   

44  
Next 
* Flattery.  Colax all his words with sugar spices;  
His servile tongue, base slave to greatness name,  
Runs nimble descant on the plainest vices;  
He lets his tongue to sin, takes rend of shame:  
He tempering lies, porter to th' ear resides,  
Like Indian apple, which with painted sides,  
More dangerous within his lurking poison hides.   

45  
So Echo, to the voice her voice conforming,  
From hollow breast for one will two repay;  
So, like the rock it holds, itself transforming,  
That subtle fish hunts for her heedless prey:  
So crafty fowlers with their fair deceits  
Allure the hungry bird; so fisher waits  
To bait himself with fish, his hook and fish with baits.   

46  
His art is but to hide, not heal a sore,  
To nourish pride, to strangle conscience;  
To drain the rich, his own dry pits to store,  
To spoil the precious soul, to please vile sense:  
A carrion crow he is, a gaping grave,  
The rich coats moth, the courts bane, trenchers slave;  
Sins & hell's winning bawd, the devils fact'ring knave.   

47  
A mist he casts before his patron's sight,  
That blackest vices never once appear;  
But greater than it is, seems virtue's light;  
His Lord's displeasure is his only fear:  
His clawing lies, tickling the senses frail  
To death, make open way where force would fail.  
Less hurts the lion's paw, than foxes softest tail.   

48  
His arms with hundred tongues were poud'red gay,  
(The mint of lies) gilt, filled, the sense to please;  
His sword which in his mouth close sheathed lay,  
Sharper than death, and framed to kill with ease.  
Ah cursed weapon, life with pleasure spilling!  
The Sardoin herb with many branches filling  
His shield, was his device: the word, I please in killing.   

49  
Base slave! how crawl'st thou from thy dunghill nest,  
Where thou wast hatched by shame and beggary,  
And pearchest in the learned and noble breast?  
Nobles of thee their courtship learn, of thee  
Arts learn new art their learning to adorn:  
(Ah wretched minds!) He is not nobly born,  
Nor learned, that doth not thy ignoble learning scorn.   

50  
Close to him Pleasing went, with painted face,  
And Honour, by some hidden cunning made;  
Not Honours self, but Honour's semblance base,  
For soon it vanished like an empty shade:  
Behind, his parents duly him attend;  
With them he forced is his age to spend:  
Shame his beginning was, and shame must be his end.   

51  
Next followed 
* Morosity.  Dyscolus, a froward wight;  
His lips all swollen, and eyebrows ever bend,  
With sooty locks, swart looks, and stalling sight,  
His face a tell-tale to his foul intent:  
He nothing liked, or praised; but reprehended  
What every one beside himself commended.  
Humours of tongues impostumed, purged with shame, are mended.   

52  
His mouth a poisonous quiver, where he hides  
Sharp venomed arrows, which his bitter tongue  
With squibs, carp, jests, unto their object guides;  
Nor fears he gods on earth, or heaven to wrong:  
Upon his shield was fairly drawn to sight  
A raging dog, foaming out wrath and spite:  
The word to his device, Impartial all I bite.   

53  

* Mad laughter. Eccles. 2.2.  Geloios next ensued, a merry Greek,  
Whose life was laughter vain, and mirth misplaced;  
His speeches broad, to shame the modest cheek;  
Ne cared he whom, or when, or how disgraced.  
Salt round about he flung upon the sand;  
If in his way his friend or father stand,  
His father & his friend he spreads with careless hand.   

54  
His foul jests steeped and drowned in laughter vain,  
And rotten speech, (ah!) was not mirth, but madness:  
His armour crackling thorns all flaming stain  
With golden fires, (emblem of foppish gladness)  
Upon his shield two laughing fools you see,  
(In number he the third, first in degree)  
At which himself would laugh, and fleer: his word, We three.   

55  
And after, 
* Rusticity, or feritie.  Agrios, a sullen swain,  
All mirth that in himself and others hated;  
Dull, dead, and leaden was his cheerless vein:  
His weary sense he never recreated;  
And now he marched as if he somewhat dreamed:  
All honest joy but madness he esteemed,  
Refresh idleness, but sport he folly deemed.   

56  
In's arms his mind the workman fit expressed,  
Which all with quenched lamps, but smoking yet,  
And foully stinking, were full quaintly dressed;  
To blind, not light the eyes, to choke, not heat:  
Upon his shield an heap of fennie mire  
In flags and turfs (with suns yet never drier)  
Did smothering lie, not burn: his word, Smoke without fire.   

57  
Last Impudence, whose never-changing face  
Knew but one colour; with some brasse-browed lie▪  
And laughing loud she drowns her just disgrace:  
About her all the fiends in armies fly:  
Her feathered beaver sidelong cocked, in guise  
Of roaring boys; set look with fixed eyes  
Out-looks all shamefaced forms, all modesty defies.   

58  
And as her thoughts, so arms all black as hell:  
Her brazen shield two sable dogs adorn,  
Who each at other stare, and snarl, and swell:  
Beneath the word was set, All change I scorn.  
But if I all this rout and foul array  
Should muster up, and place in battle ray,  
Too long yourselves & flocks my tedious song would stay.   

59  
The aged day grows dim, and homeward calls:  
The parting Sun (man's state describing well)  
Falls when he rises, riseth when he falls:  
So we by falling rose, by rising fell.  
The shady cloud of night begins softly creep,  
And all our world with sable tincture steep:  
Home now ye shepherd-swains; home now my loved sheep.    

CANT. IX.  

THe Bridegroom Sun, who late the Earth had spoused,  
Leaves his star-chamber; early in the East  
He shook his sparkling locks, head lively roused,  
While Morn his couch with blushing roses dressed;  
His shines the Earth soon latcht to gild her flowers:  
Phosphor his gold-fleeced drove folds in their bowers,  
Which all the night had grazed about th' Olympic towers.   

2  
The cheerful Lark, mounting from early bed,  
With sweet salutes awakes the drowsy light;  
The earth she left, and up to heaven is fled;  
There chants her Maker's praises out of sight:  
Earth seems a molehill, men but ants to be;  
Teaching proud men, that soar to high degree,  
The farther up they climb, the less they seem, and see.   

3  
The shepherds met, and Thomalin began;  
Young Thomalin, whose notes and silver string  
Silence the rising Lark, and falling Swan:  
Come Thirsil, end thy lay, and cheerly sing:  
Hearest how the Larks give welcome to the day,  
Tempering their sweetest notes unto thy lay?  
Up then, thou loved swain; why dost thou longer stay?   

4  
Well sett'st thou (friend) the Lark before mine eyes,  
Much easier to hear then imitate:  
Her wings lift up her notes to lofty skies;  
But me a leaden sleep, and earthly state  
Down to the centre ties with captive string:  
Well might I follow here her note and wing;  
Singing she lofty mounts: ah! mounting should I sing.   

5  
Oh thou dread King of that heroic band,  
Which by thy power beats back these hellish spirits,  
Rescuing this State from death and base command;  
Tell me, (dread King) what are those warlike Knights?  
What force? what arms? where lies their strengths increase,  
That though so few in number, never cease  
To keep this sieged town against numbers numberless?   

6  
The first Commanders in this holy train,  
Leaders to all the rest, an ancient pair;  
Long since sure linked in wedlock's sweetest chain;  
His name Spiritto, she 
* Heaven.  Urania fair:  
Fair had she been, and full of heavenly grace,  
And he in youth a mighty warrior was,  
Both now more fair, & strong; which proved their heavenly race.   

7  
His arms with flaming tongues all sparkled bright,  
Bright flaming tongues, in diverse sections parted;  
His piercing sword, edged with their fiery light,  
'Twixt bones and marrow, soul and spirit disparted:  
Upon his shield was drawn a glorious Dove,  
Against whom the proudest Eagle dares not move;  
glittering in beams: his word, Conquering by peace and love.   

8  
But she Amazon-like in azure arms,  
Silvered with stars, and gilt with sunny rays,  
Her mighty Spouse in fight and fierce alarms  
Attends, and equals in these bloody frays;  
And on her shield an heavenly globe (displaying  
The constellations lower bodies swaying,  
Swayed by the higher) she bore: her word, I rule obeying.   

9  
About them swarmed their fruitful progeny;  
An heavenly offspring of an heavenly bed:  
Well might you in their looks his stoutness see  
With her sweet graces lovely tempered.  
Fit youth they seemed to play in Prince's hall,  
(But ah long since they thence were banished all)  
Or shine in glittering arms, when need fierce war doth call.   

10  
The first in order (nor in worth the last)  
Is Knowledge, drawn from peace and Muse's spring;  
Where shaded in fair Sinaies' groves, his taste  
He feasts with words and works of heavenly King;  
But now to bloody field is fully bend:  
Yet still he seemed to study as he went:  
His arms cut all in books; strong shield slight papers lent.   

11  
His glittering armour shined like burning day,  
Garnished with golden Suns, and radiant flowers;  
Which turn their bending heads to Phoebus' ray,  
And when he falls, shut up their leavy bowers:  
Upon his shield the silver Moon did bend  
Her horned bow, and round her arrows spend:  
His word in silver wrote, I borrow what I lend.   

12  
All that he saw, all that he heard, were books,  
In which he read and learned his Maker's will:  
Most on his word, but much on heaven he looks,  
And thence admires with praise the workman's skill.  
Close to him went still-musing Contemplation,  
That made good use of its by meditation;  
So to him ill itself was good by strange mutation.   

13  
And Care, who never from his sides would part,  
Of knowledge oft the ways and means enquiring,  
To practise what he learned from holy art;  
And oft with tears, and oft with sighs desiring  
Aid from that Sovereign Guide, whose ways so steep,  
Though fain he would, yet weak he could not keep:  
But when he could not go, yet forward would he creep.   

14  
Next 
* Humility.  Tapinus, whose sweet, though lowly grace  
All other higher than himself esteemed;  
He in himself prized things as mean and base,  
Which yet in others great and glorious seemed:  
All ill due debt, good undeserved he thought;  
His heart a low-rooft house, but sweetly wrought,  
Where God himself would dwell, though he it dearly bought.   

15  
Honour he shuns, yet is the way unto him;  
As hell, he hates advancement won with bribes;  
But public place and charge are forced to woo him;  
He good to grace, ill to desert ascribes:  
Him (as his Lord) contents a lowly room,  
Whose first house was the blessed Virgin's womb,  
The next a cratch, the third a cross, the fourth a tomb.   

16  
So choicest drugs in meanest shrubs are found;  
So precious gold in deepest centre dwells:  
So sweetest violets trail on lowly ground;  
So richest pearls lie closed in vilest shells:  
So lowest dales we let at highest rates;  
So creeping strawberries yield daintiest cates.  
The Highest highly loves the low, the lofty hates.   

17  
Upon his shield was drawn that Shepherd lad,  
Who with a sling threw down faint Israel's fears;  
And in his hand his spoils, and trophies glad,  
The Monster's sword and head, he bravely bears:  
Plain in his lovely face you might behold  
A blushing meekness met with courage bold:  
Little, not little worth, was fairly wrote in gold.   

18  
With him his kinsman both in birth and name,  
Obedience, taught by many bitter showers  
In humble bonds his passions proud to tame,  
And low submit unto the higher powers:  
But yet no servile yoke his forehead brands;  
For tied in such an holy service bands,  
In this obedience rules, and serving thus commands.   

19  
By them went 
* Faith.  Fido, Marshal of the field:  
Weak was his mother, when she gave him day;  
And he at first a sick and weakly child,  
As e'er with tears welcomed the sunny ray:  
Yet when more years afford more growth, & might,  
A champion stout he was, and puissant Knight,  
As ever came in field, or shone in armour bright.   

20  
So may we see a little lionet,  
When newly whelped, a weak and tender thing,  
Despised by every beast; but waxen great,  
When fuller times full strength and courage bring,  
The beasts all crouching low, their King adore,  
And dare not see what they contemned before:  
The trembling forest quakes at his affrighting roar.   

21  
Mountains he flings in seas with mighty hand;  
Stops, and turns back the Sun's impetuous course;  
Nature breaks natures laws at his command;  
No force of hell or heaven withstands his force:  
Events to come yet many ages hence  
He present makes, by wondrous prescience;  
Proving the senses blind, by being blind to sense.   

22  
His sky-like arms, died all in blue and white,  
And set with golden stars that flamed wide;  
His shield invisible to mortal sight,  
Yet he upon it easily descried  
The lively semblance of his dying Lord;  
Whose bleeding side with wicked steel was gored,  
Which to his fainting spirits new courage would afford.   

23  
Strange was the force of that enchanted shield,  
Which highest powers to it from heaven impart;  
For who could bear it well, and rightly wield,  
It saved from sword, and spear, and poisoned dart:  
Well might he slip, but yet not wholly fall:  
No final loss his courage might appall;  
Growing more sound by wounds, and rising by his fall.   

24  
So some have feigned that Tellus giant son  
Drew many newborn lives from his dead mother;  
Another rose as soon as one was done,  
And twenty lost, yet still remained another:  
For when he fell, and kissed the barren heath,  
His parent strait inspired successive breath;  
And though herself was dead, yet ransomed him from death.   

25  
With him his Nurse went, careful 
* Hearing.  Acoe;  
Whose hands first from his mother's womb did take him,  
And ever since have fostered tenderly:  
She never might, she never would forsake him;  
And he her loved again with mutual band:  
For by her needful help he oft did stand,  
When else he soon would fail, and fall in foeman's hand.   

26  
With both sweet Meditation ever paced,  
His Nurse's daughter, and his Foster-sister:  
Dear as his soul he in his soul her placed,  
And oft embraced, and oft by stealth he kissed her:  
For she had taught him by her silent talk  
To tread the safe, and dangerous ways to balk;  
And brought his God with him, him with his God to walk.   

27  
Behind him Penitence did sadly go,  
Whose cloudy dropping eyes were ever raining;  
Her swelling tears, which even in ebbing flow,  
Furrow her cheek, the sinful puddles draining:  
Much seemed she in her pensive thought molested,  
And much the mocking world her soul infested;  
More she the hateful world, and most herself detested.   

28  
She was the object of lewd men's disgrace,  
The squint-eyed, wrie-mouthed scoff of carnal hearts;  
Yet smiling heaven delights to kiss her face,  
And with his blood God baths her painful smarts:  
Afflictions iron flail her soul had thrashed;  
Sharp Circumcisions knife her heart had slashed;  
Yet was it angels wine, which in her eyes was mashed.   

29  
With her a troop of mournful grooms abiding,  
Help with their sullen blacks their Mistress woe;  
Amendment still (but still his own faults) chiding,  
And Penance armed with smarting whips did go:  
Then sad Remorse came sighing all the way;  
Last Satisfaction, giving all away:  
Much surely did he owe, much more he would repay.   

30  
Next went 
* Hope.  Elpinus, clad in skie-like blue;  
And through his arms few stars did seem to peep,  
Which there the workman's hand so finely drew,  
That rocked in clouds they softly seemed to sleep:  
His rugged shield was like a rocky mould,  
On which an anchor bit with surest hold:  
I hold by being held, was written round in gold.   

31  
Nothing so cheerful was his thoughtful face,  
As was his brother Fido's: Fear seemed dwell  
Close by his heart; his colour changed apace,  
And went, and came, that sure all was not well:  
Therefore a comely Maid did oft sustain  
His fainting steps, and fleeting life maintain:  

* Promise.  Pollicita she hight, which ne'er could lie or feign.   

32  
Next to Elpinus marched his brother Love;  
Not that great Love which clothed his Godhead bright  
With rags of flesh, and now again above  
Hath dressed his flesh in heaven's eternal light;  
Much less the brat of that false Cyprian dame,  
Begot by froth, and fire in bed of shame,  
And now burns idle hearts swelt'ring in lustful flame:   

33  
But this from heaven brings his immortal race,  
And nursed by Gratitude; whose careful arms  
Long held, and hold him still in kind embrace:  
But trained to daily wars, and fierce alarms,  
He grew to wondrous strength, and beauty rare:  
Next that God-Love, from whom his offsprings are,  
No match in earth or heaven may with this Love compare.   

34  
His Page, who from his side might never move,  
Remembrance, on him waits; in books reciting  
The famous passions of that highest Love,  
His burning zeal to greater flames exciting:  
Deep would he sigh, and seem empassioned sore,  
And oft with tears his backward heart deplore,  
That loving all he could, he loved that Love no more.   

35  
Yet sure he truly loved, and honoured dear  
That glorious name; for when, or where he spied  
Wronged, or in hellish speech blasphemed did hear,  
Boldly the rash blasphemer he defied,  
And forced him eat the words he foully spoke:  
But if for him he grief or death did take,  
That grief he counted joy, and death life for his sake.   

36  
His glittering arms, dressed all with fiery hearts,  
Seemed burn in chaste desire, and heavenly flame▪  
And on his shield kind jonathan imparts  
To his souls friend his robes, and princely name,  
And kingly throne, which mortals so adore:  
And round about was writ in golden ore,  
Well might he give him all, that gave his life before.   

37  
These led the Vanguard; and an hundred more  
Filled up the empty ranks with ordered train:  
But first in middle ward did justly go  
In goodly arms a fresh and lovely Swain,  
Vaunting himself Loves twin, but younger brother:  
Well might it be; for even their very mother  
With pleasing error oft mistook the one for th' other.   

38  
As when fair Paris gave that golden ball,  
A thousand doubts ran in his staggering breast:  
All liked him well, fain would he give it all;  
Each better seems, and still the last seems best:  
Doubts ever new his reaching hand deferred;  
The more he looks, the more his judgement erred:  
So she first this, then that, than none, then both preferred   

39  
Like them, their armour seemed full near of kin:  
In this they only differ; th' elder bend  
His higher soul to heaven, the younger Twin  
'Mong mortals here his love and kindness spent;  
Teaching strange alchemy, to get a living  
By selling land, and to grow rich by giving;  
By emptying filling bags, so heaven by earth achieving.   

40  
About him troop the poor with numerous trains,  
Whom he with tender care, and large expense,  
With kindest words, and succour entertains;  
Ne looks for thanks, or thinks of recompense:  
His wardrobe serves to clothe the naked side,  
And shameful parts of bared bodies hide;  
If other clothes he lacked, his own he would divide.   

41  
To rogues his gate was shut; but open lay,  
Kindly the weary traveller inviting:  
Oft therefore Angels, hid in mortal clay,  
And God himself in his free roofs delighting,  
Lowly to visit him would not disdain,  
And in his narrow cabin oft remain,  
Whom heaven, & earth, & all the world cannot contain.   

42  
His table still was filled with wholesome meat,  
Not to provoke, but quiet appetite;  
And round about the hungry freely eat,  
With plenteous cates cheering their feeble spirit:  
Their earnest vows broke open heavens wide door,  
That not in vain sweet Plenty evermore  
With gracious eye looks down upon his blessed store.   

43  
Behind attend him in an uncouth wise  
A troop with little caps, and shaved head;  
Such whilom was infranched bondmen's guise,  
New freed from cruel masters servile dread:  
These had he lately bought from captive chain;  
Hence they his triumph sing with joyful strain,  
And on his head due praise and thousand blessings rain.   

44  
He was a father to the fatherless,  
To widows he supplied an husband's care;  
Nor would he heap up woe to their distress,  
Or by a Guardians name their state impair;  
But rescue them from strong oppressors might:  
Nor doth he weigh the great man's heavy spite.  
Who fears the highest judge, needs fear no mortal wight.   

45  
Once every week he on his progress went,  
The sick to visit, and those meager swains,  
Which all their weary life in darkness spent,  
Clogged with cold iron, pressed with heavy chains:  
He hoards not wealth for his loose heir to spend it,  
But with a willing hand doth well expend it.  
Good then is only good, when to our God we lend it.   

46  
And when the dead by cruel tyrant's spite  
Lie out to ravenous birds and beasts exposed,  
His yearnfull heart pitying that wretched sight,  
In seemly graves their weary flesh enclosed,  
And strewed with dainty flowers the lowly hearse;  
Then all alone the last words did rehearse,  
Bidding them softly sleep in his sad sighing verse.   

47  
So once that royal 
* Antigone, daughter of Oedipus, contrary to the edict of Creon, buries Polynices.  Maid fierce Thebes beguiled,  
Though wilful Creon proudly did forbid her;  
Her brother, from his home and tomb exiled,  
(While willing night in darkness safely hid her)  
She lowly laid in earth's all-covering shade:  
Her dainty hands (not used to such a trade)  
She with a mattock toils, and with a weary spade.   

48  
Yet feels she neither sweat, nor irksome pain,  
Till now his grave was fully finished;  
Then on his wounds her cloudy eyes begin rain,  
To wash the guilt painted in bloody red:  
And falling down upon his gored side,  
With hundred varied plaints she often cried,  
Oh had I died for thee, or with thee might have died!   

49  
Ay me! my ever wronged, and banished brother,  
How can I fitly thy hard fate deplore,  
Or in my breast so just complain smother?  
To thy sad chance what can be added more?  
Exile thy home, thy home a tomb thee gave:  
Oh no; such little room thou must not have,  
But for thy banished bones I (wretch) must steal a grave.   

50  
But whither, woeful Maid, have thy complaints  
With fellow passion drawn my feeling moan?  
But thus this Love deals with those murdered Saints;  
Weeps with the sad, and sighs with those that groan.  
But now in that beech grove we'll safely play,  
And in those shadows mock the boiling ray;  
Which yet increases more with the decreasing day.    

CANT. X.  

THe Shepherds to the woody mount withdrew,  
Where th' hillock seats, shades yield a canopy;  
Whose tops with violets died all in blue  
Might seem to make a little azure sky:  
And that round hill, which their weak heads maintained,  
A lesser Atlas seemed, whose neck sustained  
The weight of all the heavens, which fore his shoulders pained.   

2  
And here and there sweet Primrose scattered,  
Spangling the blue, fit constellations make:  
Some broadly flaming their fair colours spread;  
Some other winked, as yet but half awake:  
Fit were they placed, and set in order due:  
Nature seemed work by art, so lively true  
A little heaven on earth in narrow space she drew.   

3  
Upon this earthly heaven the shepherd's play,  
The time beguiling, and the parching light;  
Till the declining Sun, and elder day  
Abate their flaming heat, and youthful might:  
The sheep had left the shades, to mind their meat;  
Then all returning to their former seat,  
Thirsil again began his weary song repeat.   

4  
Great power of Love! with what commanding fire  
Dost thou inflame the world's wide Regiment,  
And kindly heat in every heart inspire!  
Nothing is free from thy sweet government:  
Fish burn in seas; beasts, birds thy weapons prove;  
By thee dead elements and heavens move,  
Which void of sense itself, yet are not void of love.   

5  
But those twin Loves, which from thy seas of light  
To us on earth derive their lesser streams,  
Though in their force they show thy wondrous might,  
On thee reflecting back their glorious beams,  
Yet here encountered with so mighty foe,  
Had need both armed and surely guarded go:  
But most thy help they need; do not thy help foreslow.   

6  
Next to the younger Love 
* peaceableness.  Irenus went,  
Whose frosty head proclaimed his winter age:  
His spring in many battles had he spent,  
But now all weapons changed for counsel sage.  
His heavy sword (the witness of his might)  
Upon a lopped tree he idly pight;  
There hid in quiet sheath, sleeps it in endless night.   

7  
Patience his shield had lent to ward his breast,  
Whose golden plain three Olive-branches dress:  
The word in letters large was fair expressed,  
Thrice happy author of a happy peace.  
Rich plenty yields him power, power stores his will;  
Will ends in works, good works his treasures fill:  
Earth's slave, 
* Matth. 5.9.  heaven's heir he is; as God, pays good for ill.   

8  
By him 
* Fortitude.  Andreos paced, of middle age,  
His mind as far from rashness, as from fears;  
Hating base thoughts as much as desperate rage:  
The world's loud thund'ring he unshaken hairs;  
Nor will he death or life or seek or fly,  
Ready for both. He is as cowardly  
That longer fears to live, as he that fears to die.   

9  
Worst was his civil war, where deadly fought  
He with himself, till Passion yields, or dies:  
All heart and hand, no tongue; not grim, but stout:  
His flame had counsel in't, his fury eyes;  
His rage well tempered is: no fear can daunt  
His reason; but cold blood is valiant:  
Well may he strength in death, but never courage want.   

10  
But like a mighty rock, whose unmoved sides  
The hostile sea assaults with furious wave,  
And against his head the boisterous Northwind rides;  
Both fight, and storm, and swell, and roar, and rave;  
Hoarse surges drum, loud blasts their trumpets strain:  
Th' heroic cliff laughs at their frustrate pain:  
Waves scattered drop in tears, winds broken whining plain:   

11  
Such was this Knights undaunted constancy;  
No mischief weakens his resolved mind:  
None fiercer to a stubborn enemy,  
But to the yielding none more sweetly kind.  
His shield an even-ballast ship embraves,  
Which dances light, while Neptune wildly raves:  
His word was this, I fear but heaven, nor winds, nor waves.   

12  
And next, 
* Long-suffering.  Macrothumus, whose quiet face  
No cloud of passion ever shadowed;  
Nor could hot anger Reasons rule displace,  
Purpling the scarlet cheek with fiery red:  
Nor could revenge, clad in a deadly white,  
With hidden malice eat his vexed spirit:  
For ill he good repaid, and love exchanged for spite.   

13  
Was never yet a more undaunted spirit;  
Yet most him deemed a base and timorous swain:  
But he well weighing his own strength and merit,  
The greatest wrong could wisely entertain.  
Nothing resisted his commanding spear:  
Yielding itself to him a winning were;  
And though he died, yet dead he rose a conqueror.   

14  
His natural force beyond all nature stretched:  
Most strong he is, because he will be weak;  
And happy most, because he can be wretched.  
Then whole and sound, when he himself doth break;  
Rejoicing most when most he is tormented:  
In greatest discontents he rests contented:  
By conquering himself all conquests he prevented.   

15  
His rocky arms of massy adamant  
Safely could back rebutt the hardest blade:  
His skin itself could any weapon daunt,  
Of such strange mould and temper was he made:  
Upon his shield a Palmtree still increased,  
Though many weights his rising arms depressed:  
His word was, Rising most, by being most oppressed.   

16  
Next him 
* Gentleness or courtesy.  Androphilus, whose sweetest mind  
'Twixt mildness tempered, and low courtesy,  
Could leave as soon to be, as not be kind:  
Churlish despite ne'er looked from his calm eye,  
Much less commanded in his gentle heart:  
To base men fair looks he would impart;  
Nor could he cloak ill thoughts in complemental art.   

17  
His enemies knew not how to discommend him,  
All others dear loved; fell rancorous Spite,  
And vile Detraction fain would reprehend him;  
And oft in vain his name they closely bite,  
As popular, and flatterer accusing:  
But he such slavish office much refusing,  
Can easily quit his name from their false tongues abusing.   

18  
His arms were framed into a glittering night,  
Whose sable gown with stars all spangled wide  
Affords the weary traveller cheerful light,  
And to his home his erring footsteps guide:  
Upon his ancient shield the workman fine  
Had drawn the Sun, whose eye did ne'er repine  
To look on good, and ill: his word, To all I shine.   

19  
Fair Virtue, where stayest thou in poor exile,  
Leaving the Court from whence thou took'st thy name?  
While in thy place is stepped Disdaining vile,  
And Flattery, base son of Need and Shame;  
And with them surly Scorn, and hateful Pride;  
Whose artificial face false colours died,  
Which more display her shame, then loathsome foulness hide.   

20  
Late there thou livedst with a gentle Swain,  
(As gentle Swain as ever lived there)  
Who lodge thee in his heart, and all thy train,  
Where hundred other Graces quartered were:  
But he (alas!) untimely dead and gone,  
Leaves us to rue his death, and thee to moon,  
That few were ever such, & now those few are none.   

21  
By him the stout 
* Temperance.  Encrates boldly went,  
Assailed oft by mighty enemies,  
Which all on him alone their spite misspent;  
For he whole armies single bold defies:  
With him nor might, nor cunning slights prevail;  
All force on him they try, all forces fail:  
Yet still assail him fresh, yet vainly still assail.   

22  
His body full of vigour, full of health;  
His table feeds not lust, but strength, and need:  
Full stored with plenty, not by heaping wealth,  
But topping rank desires, which vain exceed:  
On's shield an hand from heaven an orchyard dressing,  
Pruning superfluous boughs the trees oppressing,  
So adding fruit: his word, By lessening increasing.   

23  
His settled mind was written in his face:  
For on his forehead cheerful gravity  
False joys and apish vanities doth chase;  
And watchful care did wake in either eye:  
His heritance he would not lavish sell,  
Nor yet his treasure hide by neighbouring hell:  
But well he ever spent, what he had gotten well.   

24  
A lovely pair of twins closed either side:  
Not those in heaven, the flowery Geminies,  
Are half so lovely bright; the one his Bride,  

* Chastity in the married.  Agnia chaste, was joined in Hymen's ties,  
And love, as pure as heaven's conjunction:  
Thus she was his, and he her flesh and bone:  
So were they two in sight, in truth entirely one.   

25  
Upon her arched brow unarmed Love  
Triumphing sat in peaceful victory;  
And in her eyes thousand chaste Graces move,  
Checking vain thoughts with awful majesty:  
Ten thousand more her fairer breast contains;  
Where quiet meekness every ill restrains,  
And humbly subject spirit by willing service reigns.   

26  
Her skie-like arms glittered in golden beams,  
And brightly seemed to flame with burning hearts:  
The scalding ray with his reflected streams  
Fire to their flames, but heavenly fire, imparts:  
Upon her shield a pair of Turtles shone;  
A loving pair, still coupled, ne'er alone:  
Her word, Though one when two, yet either two, or none.   

27  
With her, her sister went, a warlike Maid,  

* Chastity in the single.  Parthenia, all in steel, and gilded arms;  
In needle's stead a mighty spear she swayed,  
With which in bloody fields and fierce alarms  
The boldest champion she down would bear,  
And like a thunderbolt wide passage tear,  
Flinging all to the earth with her enchanted spear.   

28  
Her goodly armour seemed a garden green,  
Where thousand spotless lilies freshly blue;  
And on her shield the 'lone bird might be seen,  
Th' Arabian bird, shining in colours new:  
Itself unto itself was only mate;  
Ever the same, but new in newer date:  
And underneath was writ, Such is chaste single state.   

29  
Thus hid in arms, she seemed a goodly Knight,  
And fit for any warlike exercise:  
But when she list lay down her armour bright,  
And back resume her peaceful Maiden's guise;  
The fairest Maid she was, that ever yet  
Prisoned her locks within a golden net,  
Or let them waving hang, with roses fair beset.   

30  
Choice Nymph, the crown of chaste Diana's train,  
Thou beauty's lily, set in heavenly earth;  
Thy fairs unpatterned all perfections slain:  
Sure heaven with curious pencil, at thy birth,  
In thy rare face her own full picture drew:  
It is a strong verse here to write but true:  
Hyperboles in others are but half thy due.   

31  
Upon her forehead Love his trophies fits,  
A thousand spoils in silver arch displaying;  
And in the midst himself full proudly sits,  
Himself in awful majesty araying:  
Upon her brows lies his bend Ebon bow,  
And ready shafts: deadly those weapons show;  
Yet sweet that death appeared, lovely that deadly blow.   

32  
And at the foot of this celestial frame  
Two radiant stars, than stars yet better being,  
Endued with living fire, and seeing flame;  
Yet with heaven's stars in this too near agreeing;  
They timely warmth, themselves not warm, inspire;  
These kindle thousand hearts with hot desire,  
And burning all they see, feel in themselves no fire.   

33  
Ye matchless stars, (yet each the others match)  
heavens richest diamonds, set on Ammel white,  
From whose bright spheres all grace the Graces catch,  
And will not move but by your load-starres bright;  
How have you stolen, and stored your armoury  
With Loves and deaths strong shafts, and from your sky  
Pour down thick showers of darts to force whole armies fly?   

34  
Above those Sun's two Rainbows high aspire,  
Not in light shows, but sadder liveries dressed;  
Fair Iris seemed to mourn in sable tire;  
Yet thus more sweet the greedy eye they feast:  
And but that wondrous face it well allowed,  
Wondrous it seemed, that two fair Rainbows showed  
Above their sparkling Suns, without or rain, or cloud.   

35  
A bed of lilies flower upon her cheek,  
And in the midst was set a circling rose;  
Whose sweet aspect would force Narcissus seek  
New liveries, and fresher colours choose  
To deck his beauteous head in snowy tire;  
But all in vain: for who can hope t' aspire  
To such a fair, which none attain, but all admire?   

36  
Her ruby lips lock up from gazing sight  
A troop of pearls, which march in goodly row:  
But when she deigns those precious bones undight,  
Soon heavenly notes from those divisions flow,  
And with rare music charm the ravished ears,  
Danting bold thoughts, but cheering modest fears:  
The spheres so only sing, so only charm the spheres.   

37  
Her dainty breasts, like to an April rose  
From green-silk fillets yet not all unbound,  
Began their little rising heads disclose,  
And fairly spread their silver circlets round:  
From those two bulwarks Love doth safely fight;  
Which swelling easily, may seem to sight  
To be enwombed both of pleasure and delight.   

38  
Yet all these Stars which deck this beauteous sky,  
By force of th' inward Sun both shine and move:  
Throned in her heart sits Love's high majesty;  
In highest majesty the highest Love.  
As when a taper shines in glassy frame,  
The sparkling crystal burns in glittering flame:  
So does that brightest Love brighten this lovely dame.   

39  
Thus, and much fairer, fair Parthenia  
Glistering in arms, herself presents to sight;  
As when th' Amazon Queen, Hippolyta,  
With Theseus entered lists in single fight,  
With equal arms her mighty foe opposing;  
Till now her bared head her face disclosing,  
Conquered the conqueror, & won the fight by losing.   

40  
A thousand Knights wooed her with busy pain,  
To thousand she her virgin grant denied;  
Although her deare-sought love to entertain  
They all their wit and all their strength applied:  
Yet in her heart Love close his sceptre swayed,  
That to an heavenly spouse her thoughts betrayed,  
Where she a maiden wife might live, and wifely maid.   

41  
Upon her steps a virgin Page attended,  
Fair 
* Modesty.  Erythre, whose often-blushing face  
Sweetly her inborn shamefaced thoughts commended;  
The faces change proved th' hearts unchanged grace,  
Which she a shrine to purity devotes:  
So when clear ivory vermilion fitly blots,  
By stains it fairer grows, and lovelier by its spots.   

42  
Her golden hair, her silver forehead high,  
Her teeth of solid, eyes of liquid pearl;  
But neck and breast no man might bore descry,  
So sweetly modest was this bashful girl:  
But that sweet paradise (ah!) could we see,  
On these white mountlets daintier apples be,  
Then those we bought so dear on Eden's tempting tree.   

43  
These noble Knights this threatened fort defend;  
These, and a thousand more heroic Swains,  
That to this ' stressed State their service lend,  
To free from force, and save from captive chains.  
But now too late the battle to recite;  
For Hesperus heavens tapers begins to light,  
And warns each star to wait upon their Mistress Night.    

CANT. XI.  

THe early Morn lets out the peeping day,  
And strewed his paths with golden Marygolds:  
The Moon grows won, and stars fly all away,  
Whom Lucifer locks up in wont folds,  
Till light is quenched, and heaven in seas hath flung  
The headlong day: to th' hill the shepherd's throng,  
And Thirsil now began to end his task and song.   

2  
Who now (alas!) shall teach my humble vein,  
That never yet durst peep from covert glade;  
But softly learned for fear to sigh and plain,  
And vent her griefs to silent myrtils shade?  
Who now shall teach to change my oaten quill  
For trumpet ' larms, or humble verses fill  
With graceful majesty, and lofty rising skill?   

3  
Ah thou dread Spirit, shed thy holy fire,  
Thy holy flame into my frozen heart;  
Teach thou my creeping measures to aspire,  
And swell in bigger notes, and higher art:  
Teach my low Muse thy fierce alarms ring,  
And raise my soft strain to high thundering:  
Tune thou my lofty song; thy battles must I sing.   

4  
Such as thou wert within the sacred breast  
Of that thrice famous Poet-Shepherd-King;  
And taughtest his heart to frame his Cantos best  
Of all that e'er thy glorious works did sing:  
Or as those holy Fishers once amongst  
Thou flamedst bright with sparkling parted tongues,  
And brought'st down heaven to earth in those all-conquering songs.   

5  
These mighty Heroes, filled with justest rage  
To be in narrow walls so closely penned,  
glittering in arms, and goodly equipage,  
Stood at the Castle's gate, now ready bend  
To sally out, and meet the enemy:  
A hot disdain sparkled in every eye,  
Breathing out hateful war, and deadly enmity.   

6  
Thither repairs the careful Intellect,  
With his fair Spouse Voletta, heavenly fair:  
With both, their daughter; whose divine aspect,  
Though now sad damps of sorrow much empair,  
Yet through those clouds did shine so glorious bright,  
That every eye did homage to the sight,  
Yielding their captive hearts to that commanding light.   

7  
But who may hope to paint such majesty,  
Or shadow well such beauty, such a face,  
Such beauteous face, unseen to mortal eye?  
Whose powerful looks, and more than mortal grace▪  
Loves self hath loved, leaving his heavenly throne,  
With amorous sighs, and many a lovely moan  
(Whom all the world would woo) wooed her his only one.   

8  
far be that boldness from thy humble swain,  
Fairest Ectecta, to describe thy beauty,  
And with unable skill thy glory stain,  
Which ever he admires with humble duty:  
But who to view such blaze of beauty longs,  
Go he to Sinah, th' holy groves amongst;  
Where that wise Shepherd chants her in his Song of songs.   

9  
The Islands King with sober countenance  
Aggrates the Knights, who thus his right defended;  
And with grave speech, and comely amenance  
Himself, his State, his Spouse, to them commended:  
His lovely child, that by him pensive stands,  
He last delivers to their valiant hands;  
And her to thank the Knights, her Champions, he commands.   

10  
The Godlike Maid a while all silent stood,  
And down to th' earth let fall her humble eyes;  
While modest thoughts shot up the flaming blood,  
Which fired her scarlet cheek with rosy dies:  
But soon to quench the heat, that lordly reigns,  
From her fair eye a shower of crystal reins,  
Which with his silver streams o're-runs the beauteous plains.   

11  
As when the Sun in midst of summer's heat  
Draws up thin vapours with his potent ray,  
Forcing dull waters from their native seat;  
At length dim clouds shadow the burning day:  
Till coldest air, soon melted into showers,  
Upon the earth his welcome anger powers,  
And heavens clear forehead now wipes off her former lours.   

12  
At length a little lifting up her eyes,  
A renting sigh way for her sorrow broke,  
Which from her heart began in her face to rise,  
And first in th' eye, then in the lip thus spoke;  
Ah gentle Knights, how may a simple maid,  
With justest grief and wrong so ill paid,  
Give due reward for such your pains, and friendly aid?   

13  
But if my Princely Spouse do not delay  
His timely presence in my greatest need,  
He will for me your friendly love repay,  
And well requite this your so gentle deed:  
Then let no fear your mighty hearts assail:  
His word's himself; himself he cannot fail.  
Long may he stay, yet sure he comes, and must prevail.   

14  
By this the long-shut gate was open laid;  
Soon out they rush in order well aranged:  
And fastening in their eyes that heavenly Maid,  
How oft for fear her fairest colour changed!  
Her looks, her worth, her goodly grace, and state  
Comparing with her present wretched fate,  
Pity whets just revenge, and loves fire kindles hate.   

15  
Long at the gate the thoughtful Intellect  
Stayed with his fearful Queen, and daughter fair;  
But when the Knights were passed their dim aspect,  
They follow them with vows, and many a prayer:  
At last they climb up to the Castle's height;  
From which they viewed the deeds of every Knight,  
And marked the doubtful end of this intestine fight.   

16  
As when a youth, bound for the Belgic war,  
Takes leave of friends upon the Kentish shore;  
Now are they parted, and he sailed so far,  
They see not now, and now are seen no more:  
Yet far off viewing the white trembling sails,  
The tender mother soon plucks off her veils,  
And shaking them aloft, unto her son she hails.   

17  
Mean time these Champions march in fit array,  
Till both the armies now were come in sight:  
A while each other boldly viewing stay,  
With short delays whetting fierce rage and spite.  
Sound now ye trumpets, sound alarms loud;  
Hark how their clamours whet their anger proud:  
See, yonder are they met in midst of dusty cloud.   

18  
So oft the South with civil enmity  
Musters his watery forces against the West;  
The rolling clouds come tumbling up the sky,  
In dark folds wrapping up their angry guest:  
At length the flame breaks from th' imprisoning cold,  
With horrid noise tearing the limber mould;  
While down in liquid tears the broken vapours rolled.   

19  
First did that warlike Maid herself advance;  
And riding from amidst her company,  
About her helmet waved her mighty lance,  
Daring to fight the proudest enemy:  
Porneios soon his ready spear addressed,  
And kicking with his heel his hasty beast,  
Bend his sharp-headed lance against her dainty breast.   

20  
In vain the broken staff sought entrance there,  
Where Love himself oft entrance sought in vain:  
But much unlike the Martial Virgin's spear,  
Which low dismounts her foe on dusty plain,  
Broaching with bloody point his breast before:  
Down from the wound trickled the bubbling gore,  
And bid pale death come in at that red gaping door.   

21  
There lies he covered now in lowly dust,  
And foully wallowing in cluttered blood,  
Breathing together out his life and lust,  
Which from his breast swam in the steaming flood:  
In maids his joy; now by a maid defied,  
His life he lost, and all his former pride:  
With women would he live, now by a woman died.   

22  
Aselges, struck with such a heavy sight,  
Greedy to venge his brother's sad decay,  
Spurred forth his flying steed with fell despite,  
And met the virgin in the middle way:  
His spear against her head he fiercely threw,  
Which to that face performing homage due,  
Kissing her helmet, thence in thousand shivers flew.   

23  
The wanton boy had dreamt that latest night,  
That he had learned the liquid air dispart,  
And swim along the heavens with pinions light;  
Now that fair maid taught him this nimble art:  
For from his saddle far away she sent,  
Flying along the empty element;  
That hardly yet he knew whither his course was bend.   

24  
The rest that saw with fear the ill success  
Of single fight, durst not like fortune try;  
But round beset her with their numerous press:  
Before, beside, behind they on her fly,  
And every part with coward odds assail:  
But she redoubling strokes as thick as hail,  
Drove far their flying troops, & thresht with iron flail.   

25  
As when a gentle greyhound set around  
With little curs, which dare his way molest,  
Snapping behind; soon as the angry hound  
Turning his course, hath caught the busiest,  
And shaking in his fangs hath well-nigh slain;  
The rest feared with his crying, run amain;  
And standing all aloof whine, howl, and bark in vain.   

26  
The subtle Dragon, that from far did view  
The waste and spoil made by this maiden Knight,  
Fell to his wont guile; for well he knew  
All force was vain against such wondrous might:  
A crafty swain well taught to cunning harms,  
Called false Delight, he changed with hellish charms;  
That true Delight he seemed, the selfsame shape and arms.   

27  
The watchfull'st sighed no difference could descry;  
The same his face, his voice, his gate the same:  
Thereto his words he feigned; and coming nigh  
The Maid, that fierce pursues her martial game,  
He whets her wrath with many a guileful word,  
Till she less careful did fit time afford:  
Then up with both his hands he lifts his baleful sword.   

28  
You powerful heavens! and thou their Governor!  
With what eyes can you view this doleful sight?  
How can you see your fairest Conqueror  
So nigh her end by so unmanly slight?  
The dreadful weapon through the air doth glide;  
But sure you turned the harmful edge aside:  
Else must she there have fallen, and by that traitor died.   

29  
Yet in her side deep was the wound impight;  
Her flowing life the shining armour stains:  
From that wide spring long rivers took their flight,  
With purple streams drowning the silver plains:  
Her cheerful colour now grows won and pale,  
Which oft she strives with courage to recall,  
And rouse her fainting head, which down as oft would fall.   

30  
All so a Lily, pressed with heavy rain,  
Which fills her cup with showers up to the brinks;  
The weary stalk no longer can sustain  
The head, but low beneath the burden sinks:  
Or as a virgin Rose her leaves displays,  
Whom too hot scorching beams quite disarayes;  
Down flags her double ruff, and all her sweet decays.   

31  
Th' undaunted Maid, feeling her feet deny  
Their wont duty, to a tree retired;  
Whom all the rout pursue with deadly cry:  
As when a hunted Stag, now well-nigh tired,  
Shored by an oak, begins with his head to play;  
The fearful hounds dare not his horns assay,  
But running round about, with yelping voices bay.   

32  
And now perceiving all her strength was spent,  
Lifting to listening heaven her trembling eyes,  
Thus whispering soft, her soul to heaven she sent;  
Thou chastest Love, that rul'st the wand'ring skies,  
More pure than purest heavens by thee moved;  
If thine own love in me thou sure hast proved;  
If ever thou myself, my vows, my love hast loved.   

33  
Let not this Temple of thy spotless love  
Be with foul hand and beastly rage defiled:  
But when my spirit shall his camp remove,  
And to his home return, too long exiled;  
Do thou protect it from the ravenous spoil  
Of rancorous enemies, that hourly toil  
Thy humble votary with loathsome spot to foil.   

34  
With this few drops fell from her fainting eyes,  
To due the fading roses of her cheek;  
That much high Love seemed passioned with those cries;  
Much more those streams his heart and patience break:  
Strait he the charge gives to a winged Swain,  
Quickly to step down to that bloody plain,  
And aid her weary arms, and rightful cause maintain.   

35  
Soon stoops the speedy Herald through the air,  
Where chaste Agneia and Encrates fought:  
See, see, he cries, where your Parthenia fair,  
The flower of all your army, hemmed about  
With thousand enemies, now fainting stands,  
Ready to fall into their murdering hands:  
High ye, oh hie ye fast; the highest Love commands.   

36  
They casting round about their angry eye,  
The wounded Virgin almost sinking spied:  
They prick their steeds, which strait like lightning fly:  
Their brother Continence runs by their side;  
Fair Continence, that truly long before  
As his heart's liege, this Lady did adore:  
And now his faithful love kindled his hate the more.   

37  
Encrates and his Spouse with flashing sword  
Assail the scattered troops, that headlong fly;  
While Continence a precious liquor poured  
Into the wound, and suppled tenderly:  
Then binding up the gaping orifice,  
Revived the spirits, that now she began to rise,  
And with new life confront her heartless enemies.   

38  
So have I often seen a purple flower  
Fainting through heat, hang down her drooping head;  
But soon refreshed with a welcome shower,  
Begins again her lively beauties spread,  
And with new pride her silken leaves display;  
And while the Sun doth now more gently play,  
Lay out her swelling bosom to the smiling day.   

39  
Now rush they all into the flying trains;  
Blood fires their blood, and slaughter kindles fight:  
The wretched vulgar on the purple plains  
Fall down as thick, as when a rustic wight  
From laden oaks the plenteous acorns pours,  
Or when the blubbering air sadly lours,  
And melts his sullen brow, and weeps sweet April showers.   

40  
The greedy Dragon, that aloof did spy  
So ill success of this renewed fray;  
More vexed with loss of certain victory,  
Deprived of so assured and wished prey,  
Gnashed his iron teeth for grief and spite:  
The burning sparks leap from his flaming sight,  
And forth his smoking jaws steams out a smouldering night.   

41  
Strait thither sends he in a fresh supply,  
The swelling band that drunken Methos led,  
And all the rout his brother Gluttony  
Commands, in lawless bands disordered:  
So now they bold restore their broken fight,  
And fiercely turn again from shameful flight;  
While both with former loss sharpen their raging spite.   

42  
Freshly these Knights assault these fresher bands,  
And with new battle all their strength renew:  
Down fell Geloios by Encrates hands,  
Agneia Moechus and Anagnus slew;  
And spying Methos fenced in's iron vine,  
Pierced his swollen paunch: there lies the grunting swine,  
And spews his liquid soul out in his purple wine.   

43  
As when a greedy lion, long unfed,  
Breaks in at length into the harmless folds;  
(So hungry rage commands) with fearful dread  
He drags the silly beasts: nothing controls  
The victor proud; he spoils, devours, and tears:  
In vain the keeper calls his shepherd peers:  
Mean while the simple flock gaze on with silent fears:   

44  
Such was the slaughter these three Champions made;  
But most Encrates, whose unconquered hands  
Sent thousand foes down to th' infernal shade,  
With useless limbs strewing the bloody sands:  
Oft were they succoured fresh with new supplies,  
But fell as oft: the Dragon grown more wise  
By former loss, began another way devise.   

45  
Soon to their aid the Cyprian band he sent,  
For easy skirmish clad in armour light:  
Their golden bows in hand stood ready bend,  
And painted quivers (furnished well for fight)  
Stuck full of shafts, whose heads foul poison stains;  
Which dipped in Phlegeton by hellish swains,  
Bring thousand painful deaths, and thousand deadly pains.   

46  
Thereto of substance strange, so thin, and slight,  
And wrought by subtle hand so cunningly,  
That hardly were discerned by weaker fight;  
Sooner the heart did feel, than eye could see:  
far off they stood, and flung their darts around,  
Raining whole clouds of arrows on the ground;  
So safely others hurt, and never wounded wound.   

47  
Much were the Knight's encumbered with these foes;  
For well they saw, and felt their enemies:  
But when they back would turn the borrowed blows,  
The lightfoot troop away more swiftly flies,  
Then do their winged arrows through the wind:  
And in their course oft would they turn behind,  
And with their glancing darts their hot pursuers blind.   

48  
As when by Russian Volgha's frozen banks  
The false-back Tartars fear with cunning feign,  
And posting fast away in flying ranks,  
Oft backward turn, and from their bows down rain  
Whole storms of darts; so do they flying fight:  
And what by force they lose, they win by slight;  
Conquered by standing out, and conquerors by flight:   

49  
Such was the craft of this false Cyprian crew:  
Yet oft they seemed to slack their fearful pace,  
And yield themselves to foes that fast pursue;  
So would they deeper wound in nearer space:  
In such a fight he wins, that fastest flies.  
Fly, fly, chaste Knights, such subtle enemies:  
The vanquished cannot live, and conqueror surely dies.   

50  
The Knights oppressed with wounds and travel past,  
Began retire, and now were near to fainting:  
With that a winged Post him sped fast,  
The General with these heavy news acquainting:  
He soon refreshed their hearts that began to tyre.  
But let our weary Muse a while respire:  
Shade we our scorched heads from Phoebus' parching fire.    

CANT. XII.  

THe shepherds guarded from the sparkling heat  
Of blazing air, upon the flowery banks,  
(Where various flowers damask the fragrant seat,  
And all the grove perfume) in wont ranks  
Securely sit them down, and sweetly play:  
At length thus Thirsil ends his broken lay,  
Left that the stealing night his later song might stay.   

2  
Thrice, oh thrice happy shepherd's life and state,  
When Courts are happiness unhappy pawns!  
His cottage low, and safely humble gate  
Shuts out proud fortune, with her scorns, and fawns:  
No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep:  
Singing all day, his flocks he learns to keep;  
Himself as innocent as are his simple sheep.   

3  
No Sirian worms he knows, that with their thread  
Draw out their silken lives; nor silken pride:  
His lambs warm fleece well fits his little need,  
Not in that proud Sidonian tincture died:  
No empty hopes, no courtly fears him fright;  
No begging wants his middle fortune bite:  
But sweet content exiles both misery and spite.   

4  
In stead of music and base flattering tongues,  
Which wait to first-salute my Lord's uprise;  
The cheerful lark wakes him with early songs,  
And birds sweet whistling notes unlock his eyes:  
In country plays is all the strife he uses,  
Or sing, or dance unto the rural Muses;  
And but in music's sports, all difference refuses.   

5  
His certain life, that never can deceive him,  
Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content:  
The smooth-leaved beech's in the field receive him  
With coolest shades, till noon-tides rage is spent:  
His life is neither tossed in boisterous seas  
Of troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease:  
Pleased & full blessed he lives, when he his God can please.   

6  
His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps,  
While by his side his faithful spouse hath place:  
His little son into his bosom creeps,  
The lively picture of his father's face:  
Never his humble house or state torment him;  
Less he could like, if less his God had sent him:  
And when he dies, green turfs with grassy tomb content him.   

7  
The world's great Light his lowly state hath blessed,  
And left his heaven to be a shepherd base:  
Thousand sweet songs he to his pipe addressed:  
Swift rivers stood; beasts, trees, stones ran apace,  
And serpents flew to hear his softest strains:  
He fed his flock, where rolling jordan reigns;  
There took our rags, gave us his robes, and bore our pains.   

8  
Then thou high Light, whom shepherds low adore,  
Teach me, oh do thou teach thy humble swain  
To raise my creeping song from earthly floor:  
Fill thou my empty breast with lofty strain;  
That singing of thy wars and dreadful fight,  
My notes may thunder out thy conquering might,  
And 'twixt the golden stars cut out her towering flight.   

9  
The mighty General moved with the news  
Of those four famous Knights so near decay,  
With hasty speed the conquering foe pursues;  
At last he spies where they were led away,  
Forced to obey the Victor's proud commands:  
Soon did he rush into the middle bands,  
And cut the slavish cords from their captived hands.   

10  
And for the Knights were faint, he quickly sent  
To Penitence, whom Phoebus taught his art;  
Which she had eakt with long experiment:  
For many a soul, and many a wounded heart  
Had she restored, and brought to life again  
The broken spirit, with grief and horror slain;  
That oft revived, yet died as oft with smarting pain.   

11  
For she in several baths their wounds did steep;  
The first of Rue which purged the foul infection,  
And cured the deepest wound, by wounding deep:  
Then would she make another strange confection,  
And mix it with Nepenthe sovereign;  
Wherewith she quickly swaged the rankling pain:  
Thus she the Knights recured, and washed from sinful stain.   

12  
Mean time the fight now fiercer grows then ever:  
(For all his troops the Dragon hither drew)  
The two Twin- Loves, whom no place might dissever,  
And Knowledge with his train begins anew  
To strike fresh summons up, and hot alarms:  
In midst great Fido, clad in sunlike arms,  
With his unmatched force repairs all former harms.   

13  
So when the Sun shines in bright Taurus' head,  
Returning tempests all with winter fill;  
And still successive storms fresh mustered  
The timely year in his first springings kill:  
And oft it breathes a while, then strait again  
Doubly pours out his spite in smoking rain:  
The country's vows & hopes swim on the drowned plain.   

14  
The lovely Twins ride against the Cyprian bands,  
Chase their troops now with no feigned flight:  
Their broken shafts lie scattered on the sands,  
Themselves for fear quite vanished out of sight:  
Against these conquerors Hypocrisy,  
And Cosmo's hated bands, with Echthros sly,  
And all that rout do march, & bold the Twins defy.   

15  
Elpinus mighty enemies assail;  
But Doubt of all the other most infested;  
That oft his fainting courage began to fail,  
More by his craft then odds of force molested:  
For oft the treachour changed his weapon light,  
And sudden altered his first kind of fight,  
And oft himself and shape transformed with cunning slight.   

16  
So that great river, with Alcides striving  
In Oeneus court for the Aetolian Maid,  
To diverse shapes his fluent limbs contriving,  
From manly form in serpent's frame he stayed,  
Sweeping with speckled breast the dusty land;  
Then like a bull with horns did armed stand:  
His hanging dewlap trailed along the golden sand.   

17  
Such shapes and changing fashions much dismayed him,  
That oft he staggered with unwonted fright;  
And but his brother Fido oft did aid him,  
There had he fell in unacquainted fight:  
But he would still his wavering strength maintain,  
And chase that Monster through the sandy plain;  
Which from him fled apace, but oft returned again.   

18  
Yet him more strong and cunning foes withstand,  
Whom he with greater skill and strength defied:  
Foul Ignorance, with all her owl-eyed band;  
Oft-starting Fear, Distrust ne'er satisfied,  
And fond Suspect, and thousand other foes;  
Whom far he drives with his unequal blows,  
And with his flaming sword their fainting army mows.   

19  
As when bloud-guilty earth for vengeance cries,  
(If greatest things with less we may compare)  
The mighty Thunderer through the air flies,  
While snatching whirlwinds open ways prepare:  
Dark clouds spread out their sable curtains o'er him;  
And Angels on their flaming wings up bore him:  
Mean time the guilty heavens for fear fly fast before him   

20  
There while he on the winds proud pinions rides,  
Down with his fire some lofty mount he throws,  
And fills the low vale with his ruined sides;  
Or on some church his three-forkt dart bestows;  
(Which yet his sacred worship foul mistakes)  
Down falls the spire, the body fearful quakes;  
Nor sure to fall, or stand, with doubtful trembling shakes.   

21  
With Fido Knowledge went, who ordered right  
His mighty hands: so now his scattered troops  
Make head again, filling their broken fight;  
While with new change the Dragon's army droops,  
And from the following victors headlong run:  
Yet still the Dragon frustrates what is done;  
And easily makes them lose what they so hardly won   

22  
Out of his gorge a hellish smoke he drew,  
That all the field with foggy mist enwraps;  
As when Typhoeus from his paunch doth spew  
Black smothering flames, rolled in loud thunderclaps:  
The pitchy vapours choke the shining ray,  
And bring dull night upon the smiling day;  
The wavering Aetna shakes, and fain would run away.   

23  
Yet could his bat-eyed legions easily see  
In this dark Chaos; they the seed of night:  
But these not so, who night and darkness flee;  
For they the sons of day, and joy in light:  
But Knowledge soon began a way devise,  
To bring again the day, and clear their eyes:  
So opened Fido's shield, and golden veil unties.   

24  
Of one pure diamond, celestial fair,  
That heavenly shield by cunning hand was made;  
Whose light divine, spread through the misty air,  
To brightest morn would turn the Western shade,  
And lightsome day beget before his time;  
Framed in heaven without all earthly crime;  
Dipped in the fiery Sun, which burned the base slime.   

25  
As when from fennie moors the lumpish clouds  
With rising steams damp the bright morning's face;  
At length the piercing Sun his team unshrouds,  
And with his arrows th' idle fog doth chase:  
The broken mist lies melted all in tears:  
So this bright shield the stinking darkness tears,  
And giving back the day, dissolves their former fears.   

26  
Which when afar the fiery Dragon spies,  
His slights deluded with so little pain;  
To his last refuge now at length he flies:  
Long time his poisonous gorge he seemed to strain;  
At length with loathly sight he up doth spew  
From stinking paunch a most deformed crew,  
That heaven itself did fly from their most ugly view.   

27  
The first that crept from his detested maw,  
Was 
* Sinne.  Hamartia, foul deformed wight;  
More foul, deformed, the Sun yet never saw;  
Therefore she hates the all-betraying light:  
A woman seemed she in her upper part;  
To which she could such lying gloss impart,  
That thousands she had slain with her deceiving art.   

28  
The rest (though hid) in serpent's form arrayed,  
With iron scales, like to a plaited mail:  
Over her back her knotty tail displayed,  
Along the empty air did lofty sail:  
The end was pointed with a double sting,  
Which with such dreaded might she want to fling,  
That nought could help the wound, but blood of heavenly King.   

29  
Of that first woman her the Dragon got,  
(The foulest bastard of so fair a mother)  
Whom when she saw so filled with monstrous spot,  
She cast her hidden shame and birth to smother;  
But she well-nigh her mother's self had slain:  
And all that dare her kindly entertain;  
So some parts of her dam, more of her sire remain.   

30  
Her viperous locks hung loose about her ears;  
Yet with a monstrous snake she them restrains,  
Which like a border on her head she wears:  
About her neck hang down long adder chains,  
In thousand knots, and wreaths enfolded round;  
Which in her anger lightly she unbound,  
And darting far away would sure and deadly wound.   

31  
Yet fair and lovely seems to fools dim eyes;  
But hell more lovely, Pluto's self more fair  
Appears, when her true form true light descries:  
Her loathsome face, blanched skin, and snaky hair,  
Her shapeless shape, dead life, her carrion smell,  
The devil's dung, the child and dam of hell,  
Is chaffer fit for fools their precious souls to sell.   

32  
The second in this rank was black Despair,  
Bred in the dark womb of eternal Night:  
His looks fast nailed to Sin, long sooty hair  
Filled up his lank cheeks with wide-staring fright:  
His leaden eyes, retired into his head,  
Light, heaven, and earth, himself, and all things fled:  
A breathing coarse he seemed, wrapped up in living lead.   

33  
His body all was framed of earthly paste,  
And heavy mould; yet earth could not content him:  
Heaven fast he flies, and heaven fled him as fast;  
Though ' kin to hell, yet hell did much torment him:  
His very soul was nought but ghastly fright:  
With him went many a fiend, and ugly spirit,  
Armed with ropes and knives, all instruments of spite.   

34  
In stead of feathers, on his dangling crest  
A luckless Raven spread her blackest wings;  
And to her croaking throat gave never rest,  
But deathful verses and sad dirges sings:  
His hellish arms were all with fiends embossed,  
Who damned souls with endless torments roast,  
And thousand ways devise to vex the tortured ghost.   

35  
Two weapons sharp as death he ever bore;  
Strict judgement, which from far he deadly darts;  
Sin at his side, a two edged sword, he wore,  
With which he soon appalls the stoutest hearts:  
Upon his shield Allecto with a wreath  
Of snaky whips the damned souls tortureth:  
And round about was wrote, Reward of sin is death.   

36  
The last two brethren were far different,  
Only in common name of death agreeing;  
The first armed with a scythe still mowing went;  
Yet whom, and when he murdered, never seeing;  
Born deaf, and blind: nothing might stop his way:  
No prayers, no vows his keenest scythe could stay;  
Nor Beauty's self his spite, nor Virtue's self allay.   

37  
No state, no age, no sex may hope to move him;  
Down falls the young, and old, the boy, and maid:  
Nor beggar can entreat, nor King reprove him;  
All are his slaves in's cloth of flesh arrayed:  
The bride he snatches from the bridegrooms arms,  
And horror brings, in midst of love's alarms:  
Too well we know his power by long experienced harms.   

38  
A dead man's skull supplied his helmets place,  
A bone his club, his armour sheets of lead:  
Some more, some less fear his all-frighting face;  
But most who sleep in downy pleasures bed:  
But who in life have daily learned to die,  
And dead to this, live to a life more high;  
Sweetly in death they sleep, and slumbering quiet lie.   

39  
The second far more foul in every part,  
Burnt with blue fire, and bubbling sulphur streams;  
Which creeping round about him, filled with smart  
His cursed limbs, that direly he blasphemes:  
Most strange it seems, that burning thus for ever,  
No rest, no time, no place these flames may sever:  
Yet death in thousand deaths without death dieth never.   

40  
Soon as these hellish monsters came in sight,  
The Sun his eye in jettie vapours drowned,  
Scared at such hellhounds view; heaven's 'mazed light  
Sets in an early evening; earth astounded,  
Bids dogs with houls give warning: at which sound▪  
The fearful air starts, seas break their bound,  
And frighted fled away; no sands might them impound.   

41  
The palsied troop first (like asps shaken) fare;  
Till now their heart, congealed in icy blood,  
Candied the ghastly face; locks stand and stare:  
Thus charmed, in ranks of stone they marshaled stood:  
Their useless swords fell idly on the plain,  
And now the triumph sounds in lofty strain;  
So conquering Dragon binds the Knights with slavish chain.   

42  
As when proud Phineus in his brother's feast  
Filled all with tumult, and intestine broil;  
Wise Perseus, with such multitudes oppressed,  
Before him bore the snaky Gorgon's spoil:  
The vulgar rude stood all in marble changed,  
And in vain ranks and rocky order ranged,  
Were now more quiet guests, from former rage estranged.   

43  
The fair Eclecta, who with grief had stood,  
Viewing th' oft changes of this doubtful fight,  
Saw now the field swim in her Champion's blood,  
And from her heart, rend with deep passion, sighed;  
Limming true sorrow in sad silent art.  
Light grief floats on the tongue; but heavy smart  
Sinks down, and deeply lies in centre of the heart.   

44  
What Daedal art such griefs can truly show,  
Broke heart, deep sighs, thick sobs, & burning prayers,  
Baptising ever limb in weeping dew?  
Whose swollen eyes, pickled up in briny tears,  
Crystalline rocks, coral the lid appears,  
Compassed about with tides of grief and fears;  
Where grief stores fear with sighs, and fear stores grief with tears.   

45  
At length sad Sorrow, mounted on the wings  
Of loud-breathed sighs, his leaden weight uprears;  
And vents itself in softest whisperings,  
Followed with deadly groans, ushered by tears:  
While her fair hands, and watery shining eyes  
Were upward bend upon the mourning skies,  
Which seemed with cloudy brow her grief to sympathise.   

46  
Long while the silent passion, wanting vent,  
Made flowing tears her words, and eyes her tongue;  
Till Faith, Experience, Hope assistance lent  
To shut both floodgates up with patience strong:  
The streams well ebbed, new hopes some comforts borrow  
From firmest truth; then glimpst the hopeful morrow:  
So spring some dawns of joy, so sets the night of sorrow.   

47  
Ah dearest Lord, my hearts sole Sovereign,  
Who sittest high mounted on thy burning throne;  
Hark from thy heavens, where thou dost safely reign,  
Clothed with the golden Sun, and silver Moon:  
Cast down a while thy sweet and gracious eye,  
And low avail that flaming Majesty,  
Deigning thy gentle sight on our sad misery.   

48  
To thee, dear Lord, I lift this watery eye,  
This eye which thou so oft in love 
* Cant. 1.15.  hast praised;  
This eye with which thou 
* Cant. 4.9.  wounded oft wouldst die;  
To thee (dear Lord) these suppliant hands are raised:  
These to be lilies thou hast often told me;  
Which if but once again may ever hold thee,  
Will never let thee lose, will never more unfold thee.   

49  
Seest how thy foes despiteful trophies rear,  
Too confident in thy prolonged delays?  
Come then, oh quickly come, my dearest dear:  
When shall I see thee crowned with conquering bays,  
And all thy foes trod down, and spread as clay?  
When shall I see thy face, and glories ray?  
Too long thou stayest, my Love; come Love, no longer stay.   

50  
Hast thou forgot thy former word and love,  
Or locked thy sweetness up in fierce disdain?  
In vain didst thou those thousand mischiefs prove?  
Are all those griefs, thy birth, life, death in vain?  
Oh no; of ill thou only dost repent thee,  
And in thy dainty mercies most content thee:  
Then why with stay so long so long dost thou torment me?   

51  
Reviving Cordial of my dying spirit,  
The best Elixir for souls drooping pain;  
Ah now unshade thy face, uncloud thy sight;  
See, every way's a trap, each paths a train:  
Hells troops my soul beleaguer; bow thine ears,  
And hear my cries pierce through my groans & fears:  
Sweet Spouse, see not my sins, but through my plaints and tears.   

52  
Let frailty favour, sorrow succour move;  
Anchor my life in thy calm streams of blood:  
Be thou my rock, though I poor changeling rove,  
Tossed up and down in waves of worldly flood:  
Whilst I in vale of tears at anchor ride,  
Where winds of earthly thoughts my sails misguide,  
Harbour my fleshly bark safe in thy wounded side.   

53  
Take, take my contrite heart, thy sacrifice,  
Washed in her eyes that swims and sinks in woes:  
See, see, as seas with winds high working rise,  
So storm, so rage, so gape thy boasting foes.  
Dear Spouse, unless thy right hand even steers,  
Oh if thou anchor not these threatening fears;  
Thy ark will sail as deep in blood, as now in tears.   

54  
With that a thundering noise seemed shake the sky,  
As when with iron wheels through stony plain  
A thousand chariots to the battle fly;  
Or when with boisterous rage the swelling main,  
Puffed up with mighty winds, does hoarsly roar;  
And beating with his waves the trembling shore,  
His sandy girdle scorns, & breaks earth's rampart door   

55  
And strait 
* Our late most learned Sovereign in his remonstrance and comment on the Apocal.  an Angel full of heavenly might,  
(Three several crowns circled his royal head)  
From Northern coast heaving his blazing light,  
Through all the earth his glorious beams dispread,  
And open lays the Beasts and Dragon's shame:  
For to this end th' Almighty did him frame,  
And therefore from supplanting gave his ominous name   

56  
A silver trumpet oft he loudly blew,  
Frighting the guilty earth with thundering knell;  
And oft proclaimed, as through the world he flew,  
Babel, great Babel lies as low as hell:  
Let every Angel loud his trumpet sound,  
Her heaven exalted towers in dust are drowned:  
Babel, proud Babel's fallen, and lies as low as ground.   

57  
The broken heavens dispart with fearful noise,  
And from the breach out shoots a sudden light;  
Strait shrilling trumpets with loud sounding voice  
Give echoing summons to new bloody fight:  
Well knew the Dragon that all-quelling blast,  
And soon perceived that day must be his last;  
Which struck his frighted heart, & all his troops aghast.   

58  
Yet full of malice and of stubborn pride,  
Though oft had striven, and had been foiled as oft,  
Boldly his death and certain fate defied:  
And mounted on his flaggie sails aloft,  
With boundless spite he longed to try again  
A second loss, and new death; glad and fain  
To show his poisonous hate, though ever showed in vain.   

59  
So up he rose upon his stretched fails,  
Fearless expecting his approaching death:  
So up he rose, that th' air starts, and fails,  
And over-pressed sinks his load beneath:  
So up he rose, as does a thunder-cloud,  
Which all the earth with shadows black does shroud:  
So up he rose, and through the weary air rowed.   

60  
Now his Almighty foe far off he spies;  
Whose Sunlike arms dazed the eclipsed day,  
Confounding with their beams lesse-glitt'ring skies,  
Firing the air with more than heavenly ray;  
Like thousand Suns in one: such is their light;  
A subject only for immortal spirit,  
Which never can be seen, but by immortal sight.   

61  
His threatening eyes shine like that dreadful flame,  
With which the Thunderer arms his angry hand:  
Himself had fairly wrote his wondrous name,  
Which neither earth nor heaven could understand:  
A hundred crowns, like towers, beset around  
His conquering head: well may they there abound,  
When all his limbs and troops with gold are richly crowned.   

62  
His armour all was died in purple blood;  
(In purple blood of thousand rebel Kings)  
In vain their stubborn powers his arm withstood:  
Their proud necks chained he now in triumph brings,  
And breaks their spears, & cracks their traitor swords  
Upon whose arms and thigh, in golden words  
Was fairly writ, The KING of Kings, & LORD of Lords.   

63  
His snow-white steed was born of heavenly kind,  
Begot by Boreas on the Thracian hills;  
More strong and speedy than his parent Wind:  
And (which his foes with fear and horror fills)  
Out from his mouth a two-edged sword he darts;  
Whose sharpest steel the bone and marrow parts,  
And with his keenest point unbreasts the naked hearts.   

64  
The Dragon, wounded with this flaming brand,  
They take, and in strong bonds and fetters tie:  
Short was the fight, nor could he long withstand  
Him, whose appearance is his victory.  
So now he's bound in adamantine chain;  
He storms, he roars, he yells for high disdain:  
His net is broke, the fowl go free, the fouler ta'en.   

65  
Thence by a mighty Swain he soon was led  
Unto a thousand thousand torturings:  
His tail, whose folds were wont the stars to shed,  
Now stretched at length, close to his belly clings:  
Soon as the pit he sees, he back retires,  
And battle new, but all in vain, respires:  
So there he deeply lies, flaming in icy fires.   

66  
As when Alcides from forced hell had drawn  
The three-head dog, and mastered all his pride;  
Basely the fiend did on his Victor fawn,  
With serpent tail clapping his hollow side:  
At length arrived upon the brink of light,  
He shuts the day out of his dullard sight,  
And swelling all in vain renews unhappy fight.   

67  
Soon at this sight the Knights revive again,  
As fresh as when the flowers from winter tomb  
(When now the Sun brings back his nearer wain)  
Peep out again from their fresh mother's womb:  
The primrose lighted new, her flame displays,  
And frights the neighbour hedge with fiery rays:  
And all the world renew their mirth & sportive plays.   

68  
The Prince, who saw his long imprisonment  
Now end in never-ending liberty;  
To meet the Victor, from his castle went,  
And falling down, clasping his royal knee,  
Pours out deserved thanks in grateful praise:  
But him the heavenly Saviour soon doth raise,  
And bids him spend in joy his never spending days.   

69  
The fair Eclecta, that with widowed brow  
Her absent Lord long mourned in sad array,  
Now 
* Revel. 19.8.  silken linen clothed like frozen snow,  
Whose silver spanglets sparkle against the day:  
This shining robe her Lord himself had wrought,  
While he her love with hundred presents sought,  
And it with many a wound, & many a torment bought.   

70  
And thus arrayed, her heavenly beauties shined  
(Drawing their beams from his most glorious face)  
Like to a precious 
* Revel 21.11.  Jasper, pure refined;  
Which with a Crystal mixed, much mends his grace:  
The golden stars a garland fair did frame,  
To crown her locks; the Sun lay hid for shame,  
And yielded all his beams to her more glorious flame.   

71  
Ah who that flame can tell? ah who can see?  
Enough is me with silence to admire;  
While bolder joy, and humbe majesty  
In either cheek had kindled graceful fire:  
Long silent stood she, while her former fears  
And griefs ran all away in sliding tears;  
That like a watery Sun her gladsome face appears.   

72  
At length when joys had left her closer heart,  
To seat themselves upon her thankful tongue;  
First in her eyes they sudden flashes dart,  
Then forth i'th' music of her voice they throng;  
My Hope, my Love, my Joy, my Life, my Bliss,  
(Whom to enjoy is heaven, but hell to miss)  
What are the world's false joys, what heavens true joys to this?   

73  
Ah dearest Lord! does my rapt soul behold thee?  
Am I awake? and sure I do not dream?  
Do these thrice blessed arms again enfold thee?  
Too much delight makes true things feigned seem.  
Thee, thee I see; thou, thou thus folded art:  
For deep thy stamp is printed in my heart,  
And thousand ne're-felt joys stream in each melting part.   

74  
Thus with glad sorrow did she sweetly plain her,  
Upon his neck a welcome load depending;  
While he with equal joy did entertain her,  
Herself, her Champions, highly all commending:  
So all in triumph to his palace went,  
Whose work in narrow words may not be penned;  
For boundless thought is less than is that glorious tent.   

75  
There sweet delights, which know nor end, nor measure;  
No chance is there, nor eating times succeeding:  
No wasteful spending can empair their treasure;  
Pleasure full grown, yet ever freshly breeding:  
Fullness of sweets excludes not more receiving:  
The soul still big of joy, yet still conceiving;  
Beyond slow tongues report, beyond quick thoughts perceiving.   

76  
There are they gone, there will they ever bide;  
Swimming in waves of joys, and heavenly loves:  
He still a Bridegroom, she a gladsome Bride;  
Their hearts in love, like spheres still constant moving:  
No change, no grief, no age can them befall:  
Their bridal bed is in that heavenly hall,  
Where all days are but one, and only one is all.   

77  
And as in state they thus in triumph ride,  
The boys and damsels their just praises chant;  
The boys the Bridegroom sing, the maids the Bride,  
While all the hills glad Hymen's loudly vaunt:  
heavens winged shoals, greeting this glorious spring,  
Attune their higher notes, and Hymen's sing:  
Each thought to pass, & each did pass thoughts loftiest wing.   

78  
Upon his lightning brow Love proudly sitting  
Flames out in power, shines out in majesty;  
There all his lofty spoils and trophies fitting,  
Displays the marks of highest Deity:  
There full of strength in lordly arms he stands,  
And every heart, and every soul commands:  
No heart, no soul his strength and lordly force withstands.   

79  
Upon her forehead thousand cheerful Graces,  
Seated in thrones of spotless ivory;  
There gentle Love his armed hand unbraces,  
His bow unbent disclaims all tyranny:  
There by his play a thousand souls beguiles,  
Persuading more by simple modest smiles,  
Then ever he could force by arms, or crafty wiles.   

80  
Upon her cheek doth Beauty's self implant  
The freshest garden of her choicest flowers;  
On which if Envy might but glance ascant,  
Her eyes would swell, and burst, and melt in showers:  
Thrice fairer both then ever fairest eyed.  
Heaven never such a Bridegroom yet descried;  
Nor ever earth so fair, so undefiled a Bride.   

81  
Full of his Father shines his glorious face,  
As far the Sun surpassing in his light,  
As doth the Sun the earth with flaming blaze:  
Sweet influence streams from his quickening sight:  
His beams from nought did all this All display;  
And when to less than nought they fell away,  
He soon restored again by his new orient ray.   

82  
All heaven shines forth in her sweet faces frame:  
Her seeing Stars (which we miscall bright eyes)  
More bright than is the morning's brightest flame,  
More fruitful than the May-time Geminies:  
These back restore the timely summer's fire;  
Those springing thoughts in winter hearts inspire,  
Inspiriting dead souls, and quickening warm desire.   

83  
These two fair Suns in heavenly sphere are placed,  
Where in the centre Joy triumphing sits:  
Thus in all high perfections fully graced,  
Her midday bliss no future night admits;  
But in the mirrors of her Spouses eyes  
Her fairest self she dresses; there where lies  
All sweets, a glorious beauty to imparadise.   

84  
His locks like ravens plumes, or shining jet,  
Fall down in curls along his ivory neck;  
Within their circlets hundred Graces set,  
And with love-knots their comely hangings deck:  
His mighty shoulders, like that Giant Swain,  
All heaven and earth, and all in both sustain;  
Yet knows no weariness, nor feels oppressing pain.   

85  
Her amber hair, like to the sunny ray,  
With gold enamels fair the silver white;  
There heavenly loves their pretty sport play,  
Firing their darts in that wide flaming light:  
Her dainty neck, spread with that silver mould,  
Where double beauty doth itself unfold,  
In th'own fair silver shines, and fairer borrowed gold.   

86  
His breast a rock of purest alabaster,  
Where Loves self sailing shipwrecked often sitteth;  
Hers a twinne-rock, unknown, but to th' shipmaster;  
Which harbours him alone, all other splitteth.  
Where better could her love then here have nested?  
Or he his thoughts then here more sweetly feasted?  
Then both their love & thoughts in each are ever rested.   

87  
Run now you shepherd-swains; ah run you thither,  
Where this fair Bridegroom leads the blessed way:  
And haste you lovely maids, haste you together  
With this sweet Bride; while yet the sunshine day  
Guides your blind steps, while yet loud summons call,  
That every wood & hill resounds withal,  
Come Hymen, Hymen come, dressed in thy golden pall.   

88  
The sounding Echo back the music flung,  
While heavenly spheres unto the voices played.  
But see, the day is ended with my song,  
And sporting baths with that fair Ocean Maid:  
Stoop now thy wing, my Muse, now stoop thee low:  
Hence mayst thou freely play, and rest thee now;  
While here I hang my pipe upon the willow bough.   

89  
So up they rose, while all the shepherds throng  
With their loud pipes a country triumph blue,  
And led their Thirsil home with joyful song:  
Mean time the lovely Nymphs with garlands new  
His locks in Bay and honoured Palmtree bound,  
With Lilies set, and Hyacinths around;  
And Lord of all the year, and their May-sporting crowned.    
FINIS.   

PISCATORIE ECLOGUES, AND OTHER POETICAL MISCELLANIES.  
By P. F.  
¶ Printed by the Printers to the UNIVERSITY of CAMBRIDGE. 1633.   

Anag Edward Benlowes, Sun-warde beloved.  

While Panses Sun = ward look; that glorious Light  
With gentle Beams entering their purple Bowers  
Shedds there his Love, & heat, and fair to sight  
Prints his bright form within their golden flowers.  
Look in their Leaves, and see begotten there  
The Sunes less Sun glitring in acure sphere.   

So when from Shades of superstitious night  
Mine eye turned to the Sun, his heaunly powers  
Stamped on my newborn spirit his Image bright  
And Love, Light, Life, into my bosom Showers.  
This difference; They in themselves have moving,  
But his sweet Love me dead, and Senseless proving,  
First Loves, and draws to Love,  
Then Lover my Soul for Loving.   
P. F:.   

ΑΛΙΕΓΤΙΚΟ'Ν, OR, PISCATORIE ECLOGUES.  

ECLOG. I. AMYNTAS.  

IT was the time faithful Halcyone,  
Once more enjoying new-lived Ceyx's bed,  
Had left her young birds to the wavering sea,  
Bidding him calm his proud white-curled head,  
And change his mountains to a champain lea;  
The time when gentle Flora's lover reigns,  
Soft creeping all along green Neptunes smoothest plains;   

2  
When hapless Thelgon (a poor fisher-swain)  
Came from his boat to tell the rocks his plaining:  
In rocks he found, and the highswelling main  
More sense, more pity far, more love remaining,  
Then in the great Amyntas fierce disdain:  
Was not his peer for song 'mong all the lads,  
Whole shrilling pipe, or voice the sea-born maiden glads.   

3  
About his head a rocky canopy,  
And craggy hangings round a shadow threw,  
Rebutting Phoebus parching fervency;  
Into his bosom Zephyr softly flew;  
Hard by his feet the sea came waving by;  
The while to seas and rocks (poor swain!) he sang;  
The while the seas & rocks answering loud echoes-rang.   

4  
You goodly Nymphs, that in your marble cell  
In spending never spend your sportful days,  
Or when you list in pearled boats of shell  
Glide on the dancing wave, that leaping plays  
About the wanton skiff, and you that dwell  
In Neptune's court, the Ocean's plenteous throng,  
Deign you to gently hear sad Thelgons plaining song.   

5  
When the raw blossom of my youth was yet  
In my first childhoods green enclosure bound,  
Of Aquadune I learned to fold my net,  
And spread the sail, and beat the river round,  
And withy labyrinths in straits to set,  
And guide my boat, where Thames and Isis heir  
By lowly Aeton slides, and Windsor proudly fair.   

6  
There while our thin nets dangling in the wind  
Hung on our oars tops, I learned to sing  
Among my Peers, apt words to fitly bind  
In numerous verse: witness thou crystal Spring,  
Where all the lads were pebbles wont to find;  
And you thick hasles, that on Thamis brink  
Did oft with dallying boughs his silver waters drink.   

7  
But when my tender youth began fairly blow,  
I changed large Thames for Chamus narrower seas:  
There as my years, so skill with years did grow;  
And now my pipe the better sort did please;  
So that with Limnus, and with Belgio  
I durst to challenge all my fisher-peers,  
That by learned Chamus' banks did spend their youthful years.   

8  
And janus' self, that oft with me compared,  
With his oft losses raised my victory;  
That afterward in song he never dared  
Provoke my conquering pipe, but enviously  
Deprave the songs which first his songs had marred;  
And closely bite, when now he durst not bark,  
Hating all others light, because himself was dark.   

9  
And whether nature, joined with art, had wrought me,  
Or I too much believed the fisher's praise;  
Or whether Phoebus' self, or Muses taught me,  
Too much inclined to verse, and Music plays;  
So far credulity, and youth had brought me,  
I sang sad Telethusa's frustrate plaint,  
And rustic Daphnis wrong, and magics vain restraint:   

10  
And then appeased young Myrtilus, repining  
At general contempt of shepherd's life;  
And raised my rhyme to sing of Richard's climbing;  
And taught our Chame to end the old-bred strife,  
Mythicus claim to Nicias resigning:  
The while his goodly Nymphs with song delighted,  
My notes with choicest flowers, & garlands sweet requited.   

11  
From thence a Shepherd great, pleased with my song,  
Drew me to Basilissa's Courtly place:  
Fair Basilissa, fairest maid among  
The Nymphs that white-cliffe Albion's forest's grace.  
Her errand drove my slender bark along  
The seas, which wash the fruitful Germans land,  
And swelling Rhine, whose wines run swiftly o'er the sand.   

12  
But after bold'ned with my first success,  
I durst assay the newfound paths, that led  
To slavish Mosco's dullard sluggishness;  
Whose slothful Sun all winter keeps his bed,  
But never sleeps in summer's wakefulness:  
Yet all for nought: another took the gain:  
Faitour, that reaped the pleasure of another's pain!   

13  
And travelling along the Northern plains,  
At her command I passed the bounding Twead,  
And lived a while with Caledonian swains:  
My life with fair Amyntas there I led:  
Amyntas fair, whom still my sore heart plains.  
Yet seemed he then to love, as he was loved;  
But (ah!) I fear, true love his high heart never proved.   

14  
And now he haunts th' infamous woods and downs,  
And on Napaean Nymphs doth wholly dote:  
What cares he for poor Thelgons plaintfull sounds?  
Thelgon, poor master of a poorer boat.  
janus is crept from his wont prison bounds,  
And fits the Porter to his ear and mind:  
What hope, Amyntas love a fisher-swain should find?   

15  
Yet once he said, (which I, than fool, believed)  
(The woods of it, and Damon witness be)  
When in fair Albion's fields he first arrived,  
When I forget true Thelgons' love to me,  
The love which ne'er my certain hope deceived;  
The wavering sea shall stand, and rocks remove:  
He said, and I believed: so credulous is love.   

16  
You steady rocks, why still do you stand still?  
You fleeting waves, why do you never stand?  
Amyntas hath forgot his Thelgons' quill;  
His promise, and his love are writ in sand:  
But rocks are firm, though Neptune rage his fill;  
When thou, Amyntas, like the fire-drake rangest:  
The sea keeps on his course, when like the wind thou changest.   

17  
Yet as I swiftly sailed the other day,  
The settled rock seemed from his seat remove,  
And standing waves seemed doubtful of their way,  
And by their stop thy wavering reprove:  
Sure either this thou didst but mocking say,  
Or else the rock and sea had heard my plaining.  
But thou (ay me!) art only constant in disdaining.   

18  
Ah! would thou knewest how much it better were  
To 'bide among the simple fisher-swains:  
No shrieching owl, no night-crow lodgeth here;  
Nor is our simple pleasure mixed with pains:  
Our sports begin with the beginning year,  
In calms to pull the leaping fish to land,  
In roughs to sing, and dance along the golden sand.   

19  
I have a pipe, which once thou lovedst well,  
(Was never pipe that gave a better sound)  
Which oft to hear fair Thetis from her cell,  
Thetis the Queen of seas, attended round  
With hundred Nymphs and many powers that dwell  
In th' Ocean's rocky walls, came up to hear,  
And gave me gifts, which still for thee lie hoarded here.   

20  
Here with sweet bays the lovely myrtils grow,  
Where th' Ocean's fair-cheekt maidens oft repair;  
Here to my pipe they dancen on a row:  
No other swain may come to note their fair;  
Yet my Amyntas there with me shall go.  
Proteus' himself pipes to his flocks hereby,  
Whom thou shalt hear, ne'er seen by any jealous eye.   

21  
But (ah!) both me, and fishers he disdains,  
While I sit piping to the gadding wind,  
Better that to the boisterous sea complains;  
Sooner fierce waves are moved, than his hard mind:  
I'll to some rock far from our common mains,  
And in his bottom learn forget my smart,  
And blot Amyntas name from Thelgons' wretched heart.   

22  
So up he rose, and launched into the deep;  
Dividing with his oar the surging main,  
Which dropping seemed with tears his case to weep;  
The whistling winds joined with the seas to plain,  
And o'er his boat in whines lamenting creep.  
Nought feared he fierce Ocean's watery ire,  
Who in his heart of grief and love felt equal fire.   
FINIS.   

ECLOG. II. THIRSIL.  Dorus, Myrtilus, Thomalin, Thirsil. Dorus. 

MYrtil, why idle sit we on the shore?  
Since stormy winds, and waves intestine spite  
Impatient rage of sail, or bending oar;  
Sat we, and sing, while winds & waters fight;  
And carol loud of love, and loves delight.   Myrtil. 

2  
Dorus, ah rather stormy seas require  
With sadder song the tempest's rage deplore:  
In calms let's sing of love, and lovers fire.  
Tell we how Thirsil late our seas forswore,  
When forced he left our Chame, and desert shore.   Dorus. 

3  
Now as thou art a lad, repeat that lay;  
Myrtil, his songs more please my ravished ear,  
Then rumbling brooks that with the pebbles play,  
Than murmuring seas broke on the banks to hear,  
Or winds on rocks their whistling voices tear.   Myrtil. 

4  
Seest thou that rock, which hanging o'er the main  
Looks proudly down? there as I under lay,  
Thirsil with Thomalin I heard complain,  
Thomalin, (who now goes sighing all the day)  
Who thus began tempt his friend with Chamish boys to stay.   Thom. 

5  
Thirsil, what wicked chance, or luckless star  
From Chamus' streams removes thy boat and mind?  
far hence thy boat is bound, thy mind more far;  
More sweet, or fruitful streams where canst thou find?  
Where fisher-lads, or Nymphs more fair, or kind?  
The Muse's selves sit with the sliding Chame:  
Chame and the Muse's selves do love thy name.  
Where thou art loved so dear, so much to hate is shame.   Thirsil. 

6  
The Muses me forsake, not I the Muses;  
Thomalin, thou knowst how I them honoured ever:  
Not I my Chame, but me proud Chame refuses:  
His froward spites my strong affections sever;  
Else, from his banks could I have parted never.  
But like his Swans, when now their fate is nigh,  
Where singing sweet they lived, there dead they lie;  
So would I gladly live, so would I gladly die.   

7  
His stubborn hands my net hath broken quite:  
My fish (the guerdon of my toil and pain)  
He causeless seized, and with ungrateful spite  
Bestowed upon a less deserving swain:  
The cost and labour mine, his all the gain.  
My boat lies broke; my oars cracked, and gone:  
Nought has he left me, but my pipe alone,  
Which with his sadder notes may help his master moan.   Thom. 

8  
Ungrateful Chame! how oft hath Thirsil crowned  
With songs and garlands thy obscurer head?  
That now thy name through Albion loud doth sound.  
Ah foolish Chame! who now in Thirsils' stead  
Shall chant thy praise, since Thelgon's lately dead?  
He whom thou lov'st, can neither sing, nor play;  
His dusty pipe, scorned, broke, is cast away:  
Ah foolish Chame! who now shall grace thy holiday?   Thirsil. 

9  
Too fond my former hopes! I still expected  
With my desert his love should grow the more:  
Ill can he love, who Thelgons love rejected,  
Thelgon, who more hath graced his graceless shore,  
Then any swain that ever sang before.  
Yet Gripus he preferred, when Thelgon strove:  
I wish no other curse he ever prove;  
Who Thelgon causeless hates, still may he Gripus love.   Thom. 

10  
Thirsil, but that so long I know thee well,  
I now should think thou speakest of hate, or spite:  
Can such a wrong with Chame, or Muses dwell,  
That Thelgons' worth and love with hate they'quite?   Thirsil. 

Thomalin, judge thou; and thou that judgest right,  
Great King of seas, (that grasp'st the Ocean) hear,  
If ever thou thy Thelgon lovedst dear:  
Though thou forbear a while, yet long thou canst not bear.   

11  
When Thelgon here had spent his prentise-yeares,  
Soon had he learned to sing as sweet a note,  
As ever struck the churlish Chamus' ears:  
To him the river gives a costly boat,  
That on his waters he might safely float,  
The songs reward, which oft unto his shore  
He sweetly tuned: Then armed with sail, and oar,  
Dear the gift he loved, but loved the giver more.   

12  
Scarce of the boat he yet was full possessed,  
When, with a mind more changing then his wave,  
Again bequeathed it to a wand'ring guest,  
Whom then he only saw; to him he gave  
The sails, and oars: in vain poor Thelgon strave,  
The boat is under sail, no boot to plain:  
Then banished him, the more to eke his pain,  
As if himself were wronged, & did not wrong the swain.   

13  
From thence he furrowed many a churlish sea,  
The viny Rhine, and Volgha's self did pass,  
Who sleds doth suffer on his watery lee,  
And horses trampling on his icy face:  
Where Phoebus prisoned in the frozen glass,  
All winter cannot move his quenched light,  
Nor in the heat will drench his chariot bright:  
Thereby the tedious year is all one day and night.   

14  
Yet little thank, and less reward he got:  
He never learned to soothe the itching ear:  
One day (as chanced) he spies that painted boat,  
Which once was his: though his of right it were,  
He bought it now again, and bought it dear.  
But Chame to Gripus gave it once again,  
Gripus the basest and most dunghill swain,  
That ever drew a net, or fished in fruitful main.   

15  
Go now, ye fisher-boyes, go learn to play,  
To play, and sing along your Chamus' shore:  
Go watch, and toil, go spend the night and day,  
While winds & waves, while storms & tempests roar;  
And for your trade consume your life, and store:  
Lo your reward; thus will your Chamus use you.  
Why should you plain, that lozel swains refuse you?  
Chamus' good fishers hates, the Muse's selves abuse you.   Thomal. 

16  
Ah Thelgon, poorest, but the worthiest swain,  
That ever graced unworthy poverty!  
How ever here thou liv'dst in joyless pain,  
Pressed down with grief, and patient misery;  
Yet shalt thou live when thy proud enemy  
Shall rot, with scorn and base contempt oppressed.  
Sure now in joy thou safe and glad dost rest,  
Smil'st at those eager foes, which hear thee so molest.   Thirsil. 

17  
Thomalin, mourn not for him: he's sweetly sleeping  
In Neptune's court, whom here he sought to please;  
While humming rivers by his cabin creeping,  
Rock soft his slumbering thoughts in quiet ease:  
Mourn for thyself, here winds do never cease;  
Our dying life will better fit thy crying:  
He softly sleeps, and blessed is quiet lying.  
Who ever living dies, he better lives by dying.   Thomal. 

18  
Can Thirsil then our Chame abandon ever?  
And never will our fishers see again?   Thirsil. 

Who against a raging stream doth vain endeavour  
To drive his boat, gets labour for his pain:  
When fates command to go, to lag is vain.  
As late upon the shore I chanced to play,  
I heard a voice, like thunder, loudly say,  
Thirsil, why idle liv'st? Thirsil, away, away.   

19  
Thou God of seas, thy voice I gladly hear;  
Thy voice (thy voice I know) I glad obey:  
Only do thou my wand'ring whirry steer;  
And when it errs, (as it will easily stray)  
Upon the rock with hopeful anchor stay.  
Then will I swim, where's either sea, or shore,  
Where never swain, or boat was seen afore:  
My trunk shall be my boat, my arm shall be my oar.   

20  
Thomalin, me thinks I hear thy speaking eye  
Woe me my posting journey to delay:  
But let thy love yield to necessity:  
With thee, my friend, too gladly would I stay,  
And live, and die: were Thomalin away,  
(Though now I half unwilling leave his stream)  
How ever Chame doth Thirsil lightly deem,  
Yet would thy Thirsil less proud Chamus scorns esteem.   Thom. 

21  
Who now with Thomalin shall sit, and sing?  
Who left to play in lovely myrtils shade?  
Or tune sweet ditties to as sweet a string?  
Who now those wounds shall 'swage in covert glade,  
Sweet-bitter wounds, which cruel love hath made?  
You fisher-boyes, and sea-maids dainty crew,  
Farewell; for Thomalin will seek a new,  
And more respectful stream: ungrateful Chame adieu.   Thirsil. 

22  
Thomalin, forsake not thou the fisher-swains,  
Which hold thy stay and love at dearest rate:  
Here mayst thou live among their sportful trains,  
Till better times afford thee better state:  
Then mayst thou follow well thy guiding fate:  
So live thou here with peace, and quiet blessed;  
So let thy love afford thee ease and rest;  
So let thy sweetest foe recure thy wounded breast.   

23  
But thou, proud Chame, which thus hast wrought me spite,  
Some greater river drown thy hateful name:  
Let never myrtle on thy banks delight,  
But willows pale, the badge of spite and blame,  
Crown thy ungrateful shores with scorn and shame.  
Let dirt and mud thy lazy waters seize,  
Thy weeds still grow, thy waters still decrease:  
Nor let thy wretched love to Gripus ever cease.   

24  
Farewell ye streams, which once I loved dear;  
Farewell ye boys, which on your Chame do float;  
Muses farewell, if there be Muses here;  
Farewell my nets, farewell my little boat:  
Come sadder pipe, farewell my merry note:  
My Thomalin, with thee all sweetness dwell;  
Think of thy Thirsil, Thirsil loves thee well.  
Thomalin, my dearest dear, my Thomalin, farewell.   Dorus. 

25  
Ah hapless boy, the fisher's joy and pride!  
Ah woe is us we cannot help thy woe!  
Our pity vain: ill may that swain betide,  
Whose undeserved spite hath wronged thee so.  
Thirsil, with thee our joy, and wishes go.   Myrtil. 

26  
Dorus, some greater power prevents thy curse:  
So vile, so basely lives that hateful swain;  
So base, so vile, that none can wish him worse.  
But Thirsil much a better state doth gain,  
For never will he find so thankless main.   
FINIS.   

ECLOG. III. MYRTILUS.  

A Fisher-lad (no higher dares he look)  
Myrtil, sat down by silver Medwayes shore:  
His dangling nets (hung on the trembling oar  
Had leave to play, so had his idle hook,  
While madding winds the madder Ocean shook.  
Of Chamus had he learned to pipe, and sing,  
And frame low dirties to his humble string.   

2  
There as his boat late in the river strayed,  
A friendly fisher brought the boy to view  
Celia the fair, whose lovely beauties drew  
His heart from him into that heavenly maid:  
There all his wand'ring thoughts, there now they stayed.  
All other fairs, all other love defies,  
In Celia he lives, for Celia dies.   

3  
Nor durst the coward woe his high desiring,  
(For low he was, lower himself accounts;  
And she the highest height in worth surmounts)  
But sits alone in hell his heaven admiring,  
And thinks with sighs to fan, but blows his firing.  
Nor does he strive to cure his painful wound;  
For till this sickness never was he sound.   

4  
His blubbered face was tempered to the day;  
All sad he looked, that sure all was not well;  
Deep in his heart was hid an heavenly hell;  
Thick clouds upon his watery eyebrows lay,  
Which melting shower, and showering never stay:  
So sitting down upon the sandy plain,  
Thus began he vent his grief, and hidden pain;   

5  
You sea-born maids, that in the Ocean reign,  
(If in your courts is known Loves matchless power,  
Kindling his fire in your cold watery bower)  
Learn by your own to pity others pain.  
Tryphon, that knowst a thousand herbs in vain,  
But knowst not one to cure a lovesick heart,  
See here a wound, that far outgoes thy art.   

6  
Your stately seas (perhaps with love's fire) glow,  
And over-seeth their banks with springing tide,  
Mustering their white-plumed waves with lordly pride,  
They soon retire, and lay their curled heads low;  
So sinking in themselves they backward go:  
But in my breast full seas of grief remain,  
Which ever flow, and never ebb again.   

7  
How well, fair Thetis, in thy glass I see,  
As in a crystal, all my raging pains!  
Late thy green fields slept in their even plains,  
While smiling heavens spread round a canopy:  
Now tossed with blasts, and civil enmity,  
While whistling winds blow trumpets to their fight,  
And roaring waves, as drums, whet on their spite.   

8  
Such cruel storms my restless heart command:  
Late thousand joys securely lodged there,  
Ne feared I then to care, ne cared to fear;  
But pulled the prisoned fishes to the land,  
Or (spite of winds) piped on the golden sand:  
But since love swayed my breast, these seas alarms  
Are but dead pictures of my raging harms.   

9  
Love stirs desire; desire, like stormy wind,  
Blows up high swelling waves of hope, and fear:  
Hope on his top my trembling heart doth bear  
Up to my heaven, but strait my lofty mind  
By fear sunk in despair deep drowned I find.  
But (ah!) your tempests cannot last for ever;  
But (ah!) my storms (I fear) will leave me never.   

10  
Hapless, and fond! too fond, more hapless swain,  
Who lovest where thouart scorned, scornest where thouart loved:  
Or learn to hate, where thou hast hatred proved;  
Or learn to love, where thou art loved again:  
Ah cease to love, or cease to woe thy pain.  
Thy love thus scorned is hell; do not so earn it;  
At least learn by forgetting to unlearn it.   

11  
Ah fond, and hapless swain! but much more fond,  
How canst unlearn by learning to forget it,  
When thought of what thou shouldst unlearn does whet it,  
And surer ties thy mind in captive bond?  
Canst thou unlearn a ditty thou hast conned?  
Canst thou forget a song by oft repeating?  
Thus much more wilt thou learn by thy forgetting.   

12  
Hapless, and fond! most fond, more hapless swain!  
Seeing thy rooted love will leave thee never,  
(She hates thy love) love thou her hate for ever:  
In vain thou hop'st, hope yet, though still in vain:  
Joy in thy grief, and triumph in thy pain:  
And though reward exceedeth thy aspiring,  
Live in her love, and die in her admiring.   

13  
Fair-cruel maid, most cruel, fairer ever,  
How hath foul rigour stolen into thy heart?  
And on a comic stage hath learned thee art  
To play a Tyrant-tragical deceiver?  
To promise mercy, but perform it never?  
To look more sweet, masked in thy looks disguise,  
Then Mercy self can look with Pity's eyes?   

14  
Who taught thy honeyed tongue the cunning slight,  
To melt the ravished ear with music's strains?  
And charm the sense with thousand pleasing pains?  
And yet, like thunder rolled in flames, and night,  
To break the rived heart with fear and fright?  
How rules therein thy breast, so quiet state,  
Spite leagued with mercy, love with lovelesse hate?   

15  
Ah no, fair Celia, in thy sunlike eye  
Heaven sweetly smiles; those stars soft loving fire,  
And living heat, not burning flames inspire:  
Love's self enthroned in thy brows ivory,  
And every grace in heaven's livery:  
My wants, not thine, me in despairing drown:  
When hell presumes, no marvel if heaven's frown.   

16  
Those graceful tunes, issuing from glorious spheres,  
Ravish the ear and soul with strange delight,  
And with sweet Nectar fill the thirsty spirit;  
Thy honeyed tongue, charming the melted ears,  
Stills stormy hearts, and quiets frights and fears:  
My daring heart provokes thee; and no wonder,  
When earth so high aspires, if heaven's thunder.   

17  
See, see, fair Celia, seas are calmly laid,  
And end their boisterous threats in quiet peace;  
The waves their drums, the winds their trumpets cease:  
But my sick love (ah love full ill apaid!)  
Never can hope his storms may be allayed;  
But giving to his rage no end, or leisure,  
Still restless rests: Love knows no mean or measure.   

18  
Fond boy, she justly scorns thy proud desire,  
While thou with singing wouldst forget thy pain:  
Go strive to empty the still-flowing main:  
Go fuel seek to quench thy growing fire:  
Ah foolish boy! scorn is thy music's hire.  
Drown then these flames in seas: but (ah!) I fear  
To fire the main, and to want water there.   

19  
There first thy heaven I saw, there felt my hell;  
There smooth-calm seas raised storms of fierce desires;  
There cooling waters kindled burning fires,  
Nor can the Ocean quench them: in thy cell  
Full stored with pleasures, all my pleasures fell.  
Die then, fond lad: ah, well my death may please thee:  
But love, (thy love) not life, not death, must ease me.   

20  
So down he swooning sinks; nor can remove,  
Till fisher-boyes (fond fisher-boyes) revive him,  
And back again his life and loving give him:  
But he such woeful gift doth much reprove:  
Hopeless his life; for hopeless is his love.  
Go then, most loving, but most doleful swain:  
Well may I pity; she must cure thy pain.   
FINIS.   

ECLOG. FOUR CHROMIS.  Thelgon. Chromis. Thel. 

CHromis my joy, why drop thy rainy eyes?  
And sullen clouds hang on thy heavy brow?  
Seems that thy net is rend, and idle lies;  
Thy merry pipe hangs broken on a bough:  
But late thy time in hundred joys thou spent'st;  
Now time spends thee, while thou in vain lamentest.   Chrom. 

2  
Thelgon, my pipe is whole, and nets are new:  
But nets and pipe contemned, and idle lie:  
My little reed, that late so merry blue,  
Tunes sad notes to his master's misery:  
Time is my foe, and hates my rugged rhymes:  
And I as much hate both that hate, and times.   Thel. 

3  
What is it then that causeth thy unrest?  
Or wicked charms? or love's new-kindled fire?  
Ah! much I fear love eats thy tender breast;  
Too well I know his never quenched ire,  
Since I Amyntas loved, who me disdains,  
And loves in me nought but my grief and pains.   Chrom. 

4  
No lack of love did ever breed my smart:  
I only learned to pity others pain,  
And ward my breast from his deceiving art:  
But one I love, and he loves me again;  
In love this only is my greatest sore,  
He loves so much, and I can love no more.   

5  
But when the fisher's trade, once highly prized,  
And justly honoured in those better times,  
By every lozel-groom I see despised;  
No marvel if I hate my jocund rhymes,  
And hang my pipe upon a willow bough:  
Might I grieve ever, if I grieve not now.   Thel. 

6  
Ah foolish boy! why shouldst thou so lament  
To be like him, whom thou dost like so well?  
The Prince of fishers thousand tortures rend.  
To heaven, lad, thou art bound: the way by hell.  
Wouldst thou adored, and great and merry be,  
When he was mocked, debased, and dead for thee?   

7  
men's scorns should rather joy, than sorrow move;  
For than thou highest art, when thou art down.  
Their storms of hate should more blow up my love;  
Their laughters my applause, their mocks my crown.  
Sorrow for him, and shame let me betide,  
Who for me wretch in shame and sorrow died.   Chrom. 

8  
Thelgon, 'tis not myself for whom I plain,  
My private loss full easy could I bear,  
If private loss might help the public gain:  
But who can blame my grief, or chide my fear,  
Since now the fisher's trade, and honoured name  
Is made the common badge of scorn and shame?   

9  
Little know they the fisher's toilsome pain,  
Whose labour with his age, still growing, spends not:  
His care and watchings (oft misspent in vain)  
The early morn begins, dark evening ends not.  
Too foolish men, that think all labour stands  
In travel of the feet, and tired hands!   

10  
Ah wretched fishers! born to hate and strife;  
To others good, but to your rape and spoil.  
This is the briefest sum of fisher's life,  
To sweat, to freeze, to watch, to fast, to toil,  
Hated to love, to live despised, forlorn,  
A sorrow to himself, all others scorn.   Thel. 

11  
Too well I know the fisher's thankless pain,  
Yet bear it cheerfully, nor dare repine.  
To grudge at loss is fond, (too fond and vain)  
When highest causes justly it assign.  
Who bites the stone, and yet the dog condemns,  
Much worse is then the beast he so contemns.   

12  
Chromis, how many fishers dost thou know,  
That rule their boats, and use their nets aright?  
That neither wind, nor time, nor tide foreslow?  
Such some have been; but (ah!) by tempests spite  
Their boats are lost; while we may sit and moan,  
That few were such, and now those few are none.   Chrom. 

13  
Ah cruel spite, and spiteful cruelty,  
That thus hath robbed our joy, and desert shore!  
No more our seas shall hear your melody;  
Your songs and shrilling pipes shall sound no more:  
Silent our shores, our seas are vacant quite.  
Ah spiteful cruelty, and cruel spite!   Thel. 

14  
In stead of these a crew of idle grooms,  
Idle, and bold, that never saw the seas,  
Fearless succeed, and fill their empty rooms:  
Some lazy live, bathing in wealth and ease:  
Their floating boats with waves have leave to play,  
Their rusty hooks all year keep holiday.   

15  
Here stray their skiffs, themselves are never here,  
ne'er saw their boats: ill might they fishers be:  
Mean time some wanton boy the boat doth steer,  
(Poor boat the while!) that cares as much as he:  
Who in a brook a whirry cannot row,  
Now backs the seas, before the seas he know.   Chrom. 

16  
Ah foolish lads, that think with waves to play,  
And rule rough seas, which never knew command!  
First in some river thy new skill assay,  
Till time and practice teach thy weakly hand:  
A thin, thin plank keeps in thy vital breath:  
Death ready waits. Fond boys, to play with death!   Thel. 

17  
Some stretching in their boats supinely sleep,  
Seasons in vain recalled, and winds neglecting:  
Other their hooks and baits in poison steep,  
Neptune himself with deathful drugs infecting:  
The fish their life and death together drink,  
And dead pollute the seas with venomed stink.   

18  
Some teach to work, but have no hands to row:  
Some will be eyes, but have no light to see:  
Some will be guides, but have no feet to go:  
Some deaf, yet ears; some dumb, yet tongues will be:  
Dumbe, deaf, lame, blind, and maimed; yet fishers all:  
Fit for no use, but store an hospital.   

19  
Some greater, scorning now their narrow boat,  
In mighty hulks and ships (like courts) do dwell;  
Slaving the skiffs that in their seas do float;  
Their silken sails with winds do proudly swell;  
Their narrow bottoms stretch they large and wide,  
And make full room for luxury and pride.   

20  
Self did I see a swain not long ago,  
Whose lordly ship kept all the rest in awe:  
About him thousand boats do waiting row;  
His frowns are death, his word is firmest law;  
While all the fisher-boyes their bonnets veil,  
And far adore their lord with strucken sail.   

21  
His ear is shut to simple fisher-swain.  
For Gemmas self (a sea-nymph great and high)  
Upon his boat attended long in vain:  
What hope, poor fisher-boy may come him nigh?  
His speech to her, and presence he denied.  
Had Neptune come, Neptune he had defied.   

22  
Where Tiber's swelling waves his banks o'erflow,  
There princely fishers dwell in courtly halls:  
The trade they scorn, their hands forget to row;  
Their trade, to plot their rising, others falls;  
Into their seas to draw the lesser brooks,  
And fish for steeples high with golden hooks.   Chrom. 

23  
Thelgon, how canst thou well that fisher blame,  
Who in his art so highly doth excel,  
That with himself can raise the fisher's name?  
Well may he thrive, that spends his art so well.  
Ah, little needs their honour to depress:  
Little it is; yet most would have it less.   Thel. 

24  
Alas poor boy! thy shallow-swimming sight  
Can never dive into their deepest art;  
Those silken shows so dim thy dazzled sight.  
Couldst thou unmask their pomp, unbreast their heart,  
How wouldst thou laugh at this rich beggary!  
And learn to hate such happy misery!   

25  
Panting ambition spurs their tired breast:  
Hope chained to doubt, fear linked to pride and threat,  
(Too ill yoked pairs) give them no time to rest;  
Tyrants to lesser boats, slaves to the great.  
That man I rather pity, then adore,  
Who feared by others much, fears others more.   

26  
Most cursed town, where but one tyrant reigns:  
(Though less his single rage on many spent)  
But much more misery that soul remains,  
When many tyrants in one heart are penned:  
When thus thou servest, the comfort thou canst have  
From greatness is, thou art a greater slave.   Chrom. 

27  
Ah wretched swains, that live in fisher's trade;  
With inward griefs, and outward wants distressed;  
While every day doth more your sorrow lad;  
By others scorned, and by yourselves oppressed!  
The great the greater serve, the lesser these:  
And all their art is how to rise and please.   Algon. 

28  
Those fisher-swains, from whom our trade doth flow,  
That by the King of seas their skill were taught;  
As they their boats on jordan wave did row,  
And catching fish, were by a Fisher caught;  
(Ah blessed chance! much better was the trade,  
That being fishers, thus were fishes made)   

29  
Those happy swains, in outward show unblessed,  
Were scourged, were scorned, yet was this loss their gain:  
By land, by sea, in life, in death, distressed;  
But now with King of seas securely reign:  
For that short woe in this base earthly dwelling,  
Enjoying joy all excellence excelling.   

30  
Then do not thou, my boy, cast down thy mind,  
But seek to please with all thy busy care  
The King of seas; so shalt thou surely find  
Rest, quiet, joy, in all this troublous fare.  
Let not thy net, thy hook, thy singing cease:  
And pray these tempests may be turned to peace.   

31  
Oh Prince of waters, Sovereign of seas,  
Whom storms & calms, whom winds and waves obey;  
If ever that great Fisher did thee please,  
Chide thou the winds, and furious waves allay:  
So on thy shore the fisher-boys shall sing  
Sweet songs of peace to our sweet peaces King.   
FINIS.   

ECLOG. V. NICAEA.  Damon, Algon, Nicaea. 

THe well known fisher-boy, that late his name,  
And place, and (ah for pity!) mirth had changed;  
Which from the Muse's spring, & churlish Chame  
Was fled, (his glory late, but now his shame:  
For he with spite the gentle boy estranged)  
Now along the Trent with his new fellows ranged:  
There Damon (friendly Damon) met the boy,  
Where lordly Trent kisses the Darwin coy,  
Bathing his liquid streams in lovers melting joy▪   Damon. 

2  
Algon, what luckless star thy mirth hath blasted?  
My joy in thee, and thou in sorrow drowned.  
The year with winter storms all rent and wasted  
Hath now fresh youth and gentler seasons tasted:  
The warmer sun his bride hath newly gowned,  
With fiery arms clipping the wanton ground,  
And gets an heaven on earth: that primrose there,  
Which amongst those violets sheds his golden hair,  
Seems the sun's little son, fixed in his azure sphere.   

3  
Seest how the dancing lambs on flowery banks  
Forget their food, to mind their sweeter play?  
Seest how they skip, and in their wanton pranks  
Bound o'er the hillocks, set in sportful ranks?  
They skip, they vault; full little caren they  
To make their milky mother's bleating stay.  
Seest how the salmon (waters colder nation)  
Lately arrived from their sea-navigation,  
How joy leaps in their heart, show by their leaping fashion?   

4  
What witch enchants thy mind with sullen madness?  
When all things smile, thou only fitt'st complaining.   Algon. 
Damon, I, only I, have cause of sadness:  
The more my woe, to weep in common gladness:  
When all eyes shine, mine only must be raining;  
No winter now, but in my breast, remaining:  
Yet feels this breast a summer's burning fever:  
And yet (alas!) my winter thaweth never:  
And yet (alas!) this fire eats and consumes me ever.  Damon. 

5  
Within our Darwin, in her rocky cell  
A Nymph there lives, which thousand boys hath harmed;  
All as she gliding rides in boats of shell,  
Darting her eye, (where spite and beauty dwell:  
Ay me, that spite with beauty should be armed!)  
Her witching eye the boy, and boat hath charmed.  
No sooner drinks he down that poisonous eye,  
But mourns and pines: (ah piteous cruelty!)  
With her he longs to live; for her he longs to die.   Algon. 

6  
Damon, what Tryphon taught thine eye the art  
By these few signs to search so soon, so well,  
A wound deep hid, deep in my festered heart,  
Pierced by her eye, Loves, and death's pleasing dart?  
Ah, she it is, an earthly heaven, and hell,  
Who thus hath charmed my heart with sugared spell.  
Ease thou my wound: but (ah!) what hand can ease,  
Or give a medicine that such wound may please;  
When she my sole Physician is my souls disease?   Damon. 

7  
Poor boy! the wounds which spite and Love impart,  
There is no ward to fence, no herb to ease.  
heavens circling folds lie open to his dart:  
Hell's Lethe's self cools not his burning smart:  
The fishes cold flame with this strong disease,  
And want their water in the midst of seas:  
All are his slaves, hell, earth, and heaven above:  
Strive not i'th' net, in vain thy force to prove.  
Give, woe, sigh, weep, & pray: Love's only cured by love.   Algon. 

8  
If for thy love no other cure there be,  
Love, thou art cureless: gifts, prayers, vows, and art,  
She scorns both you and me: nay Love, even thee:  
Thou sighest her prisoner, while she laughs as free.  
What ever charms might move a gentle heart,  
I oft have tried, and showed the earnfull smart,  
Which eats my breast: she laughs at all my pain:  
Art, prayers, vows, gifts, love, grief, she does disdain:  
Grief, love, gifts, vows, prayers, art; ye all are spent in vain.   Damon. 

9  
Algon, oft hast thou fished, but sped not strait;  
With hook and net thou beatest the water round:  
Ofttimes the place thou changest, oft the bait;  
And catching nothing, still, and still dost wait:  
Learn by thy trade to cure thee: time hath found  
In desperate cures a salve for every wound.  
The fish long playing with the baited hook,  
At last is caught: Thus many a Nymph is took;  
Mocking the strokes of Love, is with her striking struck.   Algon. 

10  
The marbles self is pierced with drops of rain:  
Fires soften steel, and hardest metals try:  
But she more hard then both: such her disdain,  
That seas of tears, Aetna's of love are vain.  
In her strange heart (weep I, burn, pine, or die)  
Still reigns a cold, coy, careless apathy.  
The rock that bears her name, breeds that hard stone  
With goat's blood only softened, she with none:  
More precious she, and (ah!) more hard than diamond.   

11  
That rock I think her mother: thence she took  
Her name and nature. Damon, Damon, see,  
See where she comes, armed with a line and hook:  
Tell me, perhaps thou think'st, in that sweet look,  
The white is beauties native tapestry;  
'Tis crystal, (friend) yced in the frozen sea:  
The red is rubies; these two joined in one,  
Make up that beauteous frame: the difference none  
But this; she is a precious, living, speaking stone.   Damon. 

12  
No gem so costly, but with cost is bought:  
The hardest stone is cut, and framed by art:  
A diamond hid in rocks is found, if sought:  
Be she a diamond, a diamond's wrought.  
Thy fear congeals, thy fainting steels her heart.  
I'll be thy Captain, boy, and take thy part:  
Alcides self would never combat two.  
Take courage, Algon; I will teach thee woe.  
Cold beggars freeze our gifts: thy faint suit breeds her no.   

13  
Speak to her, boy.   Al. 
Love is more deaf than blind.  Damon. 
She must be wooed.  Al. 
Love's tongue is in the eyes.  Damon. 
Speech is Love's dart.  Al. 
Silence best speaks the mind.  Damon. 
Her eye invites.  Al. 
Thence love and death I find.  Damon. 
Her smiles speak peace.  Al. 
Storms breed in smiling skies  Damon. 
Who silent loves?  Al. 
Whom speech all hope denies.  Damon. 
Why shouldst thou fear?  Al. 
To Love Fear's near akin.  Damon. 

Well, if my cunning fail not, by a gin  
(Spite of her scorn, thy fear) I'll make thee woe, and win.   

14  
What, ho, thou fairest maid, turn back thine oar,  
And gently deign to help a fisher's smart.   Nicaea. 

Are thy lines broke? or are thy trammels tore?  
If thou desir'st my help, unhide the sore.  
Ah gentlest Nymph, oft have I heard, thy art  
Can sovereign herbs to every grief impart:  
So mayst thou live the fisher's song, and joy,  
As thou wilt deign to cure this sickly boy.  
Unworthy they of art, who of their art are coy.   

15  
His inward grief in outward change appears;  
His cheeks with sudden fires bright-flaming glow;  
Which quenched, end all in ashes: storms of tears  
Becloud his eyes, which soon forced smiling clears:  
Thick tides of passions ever ebb, and flow:  
And as his flesh still wastes, his griefs still grow.   Nicaea. 
Damon, the wounds deep rankling in the mind  
What herb could ever cure? what art could find?  
Blind are mine eyes to see wounds in the soul most blind.  Algon. 

16  
Hard maid, 'tis worse to mock, then make a wound:  
Why shouldst thou then (fair-cruel) scorn to see  
What thou by seeing mad'st? my sorrows ground  
Was in thy eye, may by thy eye be found.  
How can thy eye most sharp in wounding be,  
In seeing dull? these two are one in thee,  
To see, and wound by sight: thy eye the dart.  
Fair-cruel maid, thou well hast learned the art,  
With the same eye to see, to wound, to cure my heart.   Nicaea. 

17  
What cures thy wounded heart?   Algon. 
Thy heart so wounded.  Nicaea. 
Is't love to wound thy love?  Algon. 
Love's wounds are pleasing.  Nicaea. 
Why plain'st thou then?  Al. 
Because thou art unwounded.  
Thy wound my cure: on this my plaint is grounded.  Nicaea. 
Cures are diseases, when the wounds are easing:  
Why wouldst thou have me please thee by displeasing?  Algon. 
Scorned love is death; loves mutual wounds delighting:  
Happy thy love, my love to thine uniting.  
Love paying debts grows rich; requited in requiting.  Damon. 

18  
What lives alone, Nicaea? stars most chaste  
Have their conjunctions, spheres their mixed embraces,  
And mutual folds. Nothing can single last:  
But die in living, in increasing waste.   Nicaea. 
Their joining perfects them, but us defaces.  Algon. 
That's perfect which obtains his end: your graces  
Receive their end in love. She that's alone  
Dies as she lives: no number is in one:  
Thus while she's but herself, she's not herself, she's none.  Nicaea. 

19  
Why blamest thou then my stony hard confection,  
Which nothing loves? thou single nothing art.   Algon. 
Love perfects what it loves; thus thy affection  
Married to mine, makes mine and thy perfection.  Nicaea. 

Well then, to pass our Tryphon in his art,  
And in a moment cure a wounded heart;  
If fairest Darwin, whom I serve, approve  
Thy suit, and thou wilt not thy heart remove;  
I'll join my heart to thine, and answer thee in love.   

20  
The sun is set; adieu.   Algon. 
'Tis set to me;  
Thy parting is my even, thy presence light.  Nicaea. 
Farewell.  Algon. 
Thou giv'st thy wish; it is in thee:  
Unless thou wilt, hapless I cannot be.  Damon. 
Come Algon, cheerly home; the thievish night  
Steals on the world, and robs our eyes of sight.  
The silver streams grow black: home let us coast:  
There of love's conquest may we safely boast:  
Soon in love he wins, that oft in love hath lost.  
FINIS.   

ECLOG. VI THOMALIN.  Thirsil, Thomalin. 

A Fisher-boy that never knew his peer  
In dainty songs, the gentle Thomalin,  
With folded arms, deep sighs, & heavy cheer  
Where hundred Nymphs, & hundred Muses inn,  
Sunk down by Chamus' brinks; with him his dear,  
Dear Thirsil lay; oft times would he begin  
To cure his grief, and better way advise;  
But still his words, when his sad friend he spies,  
Forsook his silent tongue, to speak in watery eyes.   

2  
Under a sprouting vine they careless lie,  
Whose tender leaves bit with the Eastern blast,  
But now were born, and now began to die;  
The latter warned by the former's haste,  
Thinly for fear salute the envious sky:  
Thus as they sat, Thirsil embracing fast  
His loved friend, feeling his panting heart  
To give no rest to his increasing smart,  
At length thus spoke, while sighs words to his grief impart:   Thirsil. 

3  
Thomalin, I see thy Thirsil thou neglectest,  
Some greater love holds down thy heart in fear;  
Thy Thirsils love, and counsel thou reject'st;  
Thy soul was wont to lodge within my ear:  
But now that port no longer thou respectest;  
Yet hath it still been safely harboured there.  
My ear is not acquainted with my tongue,  
That either tongue, or ear should do thee wrong:  
Why then shouldst thou conceal thy hidden grief so long?   Thom. 

4  
Thirsil, it is thy love that makes me hide  
My smothered grief from thy known faithful ear:  
May still my Thirsil safe, and merry 'bide;  
Enough is me my hidden grief to bear:  
For while thy breast in haven doth safely ride,  
My greater half with thee rides safely there.   Thirsil. 

So thou art well; but still my better part,  
My Thomalin, sinks loaden with his smart:  
Thus thou my finger cur'st, and wound'st my bleeding heart.   

5  
How oft hath Thomalin to Thirsil vowed,  
That as his heart, so he his love esteemed!  
Where are those oaths? where is that heart bestowed,  
Which hides it from that breast which dear it deemed,  
And to that heart room in his heart allowed?  
That love was never love, but only seemed.  
Tell me, my Thomalin, what envious thief  
Thus robs thy joy: tell me, my liefest lief:  
Thou little lov'st me, friend, if more thou lov'st thy grief.   Thom. 

6  
Thirsil, my joyous spring is blasted quite,  
And winter storms prevent the summer's ray:  
All as this vine, whose green the Eastern spite  
Hath died to black, his catching arms decay,  
And letting go their hold for want of might,  
Mar'le winter comes so soon, in first of May.   Thirsil. 
Yet see the leaves do freshly bud again:  
Thou drooping still diest in this heavy strain:  
Nor can I see or end or cause of all thy pain.  Thom. 

7  
No marvel, Thirsil, if thou dost not know  
This grief, which in my heart lies deeply drowned:  
My heart itself, though well it feels his woe,  
Knows not the woe it feels: the worse my wound,  
Which though I rankling find, I cannot show.  
Thousand fond passions in my breast abound;  
Fear leagued to joy, hope and despair together,  
Sighs bound to smiles; my heart though prone to either,  
While both it would obey, 'twixt both obeyeth neither   

8  
Oft blushing flames leap up into my face;  
My guiltless cheek such purple flash admires:  
Oft stealing tears slip from mine eyes apace,  
As if they meant to quench those causeless fires.  
My good I hate; my hurt I glad embrace:  
My heart though grieved, his grief as joy desires:  
I burn, yet know no fuel to my firing:  
My wishes know no want, yet still desiring:  
Hope knows not what to hope, yet still in hope aspiring.   Thirsil. 

9  
Too true my fears: alas, no wicked spirit,  
No writheled witch, with spells or powerful charms,  
Or hellish herbs digged in as hellish night,  
Gives to thy heart these oft and fierce alarms:  
But Love, too hateful Love, with pleasing spite,  
And spiteful pleasure, thus hath bred thy harms,  
And seeks thy mirth with pleasance to destroy.  
'Tis Love, my Thomalin, my liefest boy;  
'Tis Love robs me of thee, and thee of all thy joy.   Thomal. 

10  
Thirsil, I ken not what is hate, or Love,  
thou well I love, and thou lov'st me as well;  
Yet joy, no torment, in this passion prove:  
But often have I heard the fishers tell,  
He's not inferior to the mighty jove;  
jove heaven rules; Love jove, heaven, earth, and hell:  
Tell me, my friend, if thou dost better know:  
Men say, he goes armed with his shafts, and bow,  
Two darts, one swift as fire, as lead the other slow.   Thirsil. 

11  
Ah heedless boy! Love is not such a lad,  
As he is fancied by the idle swain;  
With bow and shafts, and purple feathers clad;  
Such as Diana (with her buskined train  
Of armed Nymphs along the forest's glade  
With golden quivers) in Thessalian plain,  
In level race outstrips the jumping Deer  
With nimble feet; or with a mighty spear  
Flings down a bristled boar, or else a squalid bear.   

12  
Love's sooner felt, then seen: his substance thin  
Betwixt those snowy mounts in ambush lies:  
Oft in the eyes he spreads his subtle gin;  
He therefore soon wins, that fastest flies.  
Fly thence my dear, fly fast, my Thomalin:  
Who him encounters once, for ever dies:  
But if he lurk between the ruddy lips,  
Unhappy soul that thence his Nectar sips,  
While down into his heart the sugared poison slips!   

13  
Oft in a voice he creeps down through the ear:  
Oft from a blushing cheek he lights his fire:  
Oft shrouds his golden flame in likest hair:  
Oft in a soft-smooth skin doth close retire:  
Oft in a smile; oft in a silent tear:  
And if all fail, yet virtue's self he'll hire:  
Himself's a dart, when nothing else can move.  
Who then the captive soul can well reprove,  
When Love, and virtue's self become the darts of Love?   Thom. 

14  
Sure, Love it is, which breeds this burning fever:  
For late (yet all too soon) on Venus' day,  
I chanced (Oh cursed chance, yet blessed ever!)  
As careless on the silent shores I stray,  
Five Nymphs to see (five fairer saw I never)  
Upon the golden sand to dance and play:  
The rest among, yet far above the rest,  
Sweet Melite, by whom my wounded breast,  
Though rankling still in grief, yet joys in his unrest.   

15  
There to their sport while I pipe, and sing,  
Out from her eyes I felt a fiery beam,  
And pleasing heat (such as in first of Spring  
From Sol, inned in the Bull, do kindly stream)  
To warm my heart, and with a gentle sting  
Blow up desire: yet little did I dream  
Such bitter fruits from such sweet roots could grow,  
Or from so gentle eye such spite could flow:  
For who could fire expect hid in an hill of snow?   

16  
But when those lips (those melting lips) I pressed,  
I lost my heart, which sure she stole away:  
For with a blush she soon her guilt confessed,  
And sighs (which sweetest breath did soft convey)  
Betrayed her theft: from thence my flaming breast  
Like thundering Aetna burns both night and day:  
All day she present is, and in the night  
My wakeful fancy paints her full to sight:  
Absence her presence makes, darkness presents her light.   Thirsil. 

17  
Thomalin, too well those bitter sweets I know,  
Since fair Nicaea bred my pleasing smart:  
But better times did better reason show,  
And cured those burning wounds with heavenly art.  
Those storms of loser fire are laid full low;  
And higher love safe anchours in my heart:  
So now a quiet calm does safely reign.  
And if my friend think not my counsel vain;  
Perhaps my art may cure, or much assuage thy pain.   Thom. 

18  
Thirsil, although this witching grief doth please  
My captive heart, and Love doth more detest  
The cure, and curer, than the sweet disease;  
Yet if my Thirsil doth the cure request,  
This storm, which rocks my heart in slumbering ease,  
Spite of itself, shall yield to thy behest.   Thirsil. 

Then hark how Tryphons self did salve my paining,  
While in a rock I sat of love complaining;  
My wounds with herbs, my grief with counsel sage restraining.   

19  
But tell me first; Why should thy partial mind  
More Melite, than all the rest approve?   Thom. 
Thirsil, her beauty all the rest did blind,  
That she alone seemed worthy of my love.  
Delight upon her face, and sweetness shined:  
Her eyes do spark as stars, as stars do move:  
Like those twin-fires, which on our masts appear,  
And promise calms. Ah that those flames so clear  
To me alone should raise such storms of hope and fear!  Thirsil. 

20  
If that which to thy mind doth worthiest seem,  
By thy well-tempered soul is most affected;  
Canst thou a face worthy thy love esteem?  
What in thy soul then love is more respected?  
Those eyes which in their sphere thou, fond, dost deem  
Like living stars, with some disease infected,  
Are dull as leaden dross: those beauteous rays,  
So like a rose, when she her breast displays,  
Are like a rose indeed; as sweet, as soon decays.   

21  
Art thou in love with words? her words are wind,  
As flit as is their matter, flittest air.  
Her beauty moves? can colours move thy mind?  
Colours in scorned weeds more sweet, and fair.  
Some pleasing quality thy thoughts doth bind?  
Love then thyself. Perhaps her golden hair?  
False metal, which to silver soon descends!  
Is't pleasure then which so thy fancy bends?  
Poor pleasure, that in pain begins, in sorrow ends!   

22  
What? is't her company so much contents thee?  
How would she present stir up stormy weather,  
When thus in absence present she torments thee?  
Lov'st thou not one, but all these joined together?  
All's but a woman. Is't her love that rends thee?  
Light winds, light air; her love more light then either.  
If then due worth thy true affection moves,  
Here is no worth. Who some old hag approves,  
And scorns a beauteous spouse, he rather dotes, then loves.   

23  
Then let thy love mount from these base things,  
And to the highest love, and worth aspire:  
Love's born of fire, fitted with mounting wings;  
That at his highest he might wind him higher;  
Base love, that to base earth so basely clings!  
Look as the beams of that celestial fire  
Put out these earthly flames with purer ray▪  
So shall that love this base heat allay,  
And quench these coals of earth with his more heavenly day.   

24  
Raise then thy prostrate love with towering thought;  
And clog it not in chains, and prison here:  
The God of fisher's dear thy love hath bought:  
Most dear he loves: for shame, love thou as dear.  
Next, love thou there, where best thy love is sought;  
Myself, or else some other fitting peer.  
Ah might thy love with me forever dwell!  
Why shouldst thou hate thy heaven, and love thy hell?  
She shall not more deserve, nor cannot love so well.   

25  
Thus Tryphon once did wean my fond affection;  
Then fits a salve unto th' infected place,  
(A salve of sovereign and strange confection)  
Nepenthe mixed with Rue, and Herb-de-grace:  
So did he quickly heal this strong infection,  
And to myself restored myself apace.  
Yet did he not my love extinguish quite:  
I love with sweeter love, and more delight:  
But most I love that Love, which to my love has right.   Thom. 

26  
Thrice happy thou that couldst! my weaker mind  
Can never learn to climb so lofty flight.   Thirsil. 
If from this love thy will thou canst unbind;  
To will, is here to can: will gives thee might:  
'Tis done, if once thou wilt; 'tis done, I find.  
Now let us home: for see, the creeping night  
Steals from those further waves upon the land.  
To morrow shall we feast; then hand in hand  
Free will we sing, and dance along the golden sand.  
FINIS.   

ECLOG. VII. The PRIZE.  Thirsil, Daphnis, Thomalin. 

AVrora from old Tithonus' frosty bed  
(Cold, wintry, withered Tithon) early creeps;  
Her cheek with grief was pale, with angerred;  
Out of her window close she blushing peeps;  
Her weeping eyes in pearled dew she steeps,  
Casting what sportlesse nights she ever led:  
She dying lives, to think he's living dead.  
Cursed be, and cursed is that wretched fire,  
That yokes green youth with age, want with desire.  
Who ties the sun to snow? or marries frost to fire?   

2  
The morn saluting, up I quickly rise,  
And to the green I post; for on this day  
Shepherd and fisher-boyes had set a prize,  
Upon the shore to meet in gentle fray,  
Which of the two should sing the choicest lay;  
Daphnis the shepherd's lad, whom Mira's eyes  
Had killed; yet with such wound he gladly dies:  
Thomalin the fisher, in whose heart did reign  
Stella; whose love his life, and whose disdain  
Seems worse than angry skies, or never quiet main.   

3  
There soon I view the merry shepherd-swains  
March three by three, clad all in youthful green:  
And while the sad recorder sweetly plains,  
Three lovely Nymphs (each several row between,  
More lovely Nymphs could no where else be seen,  
Whose faces snow their snowy garments stains)  
With sweeter voices fit their pleasing strains.  
Their flocks flock round about; the horned rams,  
And ewes go silent by, while wanton lambs  
Dancing along the plains, forget their milky dams.   

4  
Scarce were the shepherds set, but strait in sight  
The fisher-boyes came driving up the stream;  
Themselves in blue, and twenty sea-nymphs bright  
In curious robes, that well the waves might seem:  
All dark below, the top like frothy cream:  
Their boats and masts with flowers, and garlands dight;  
And round the swan's guard them with armies white:  
Their skiffs by couples dance to sweetest sounds,  
Which running corners breath to full plain grounds,  
That strikes the river's face, and thence more sweet rebounds.   

5  
And now the Nymphs and swains had took their place;  
First those two boys; Thomalin the fisher's pride,  
Daphnis the shepherds: Nymphs their right hand grace;  
And choicest swains shut up the other side:  
So sit they down in order fit applied;  
Thirsil betwixt them both, in middle space:  
(Thirsil their judge, who now's a shepherd base,  
But late a fisher-swain, till envious Chame  
Had rend his nets, and sunk his boat with shame;  
So robbed the boys of him, and him of all his game)   Thirsil. 

6  
So as they sit, thus Thirsil begins the lay;  
You lovely boys, (the woods, and Ocean's pride)  
Since I am judge of this sweet peaceful fray,  
First tell us, where, and when your Loves you spied:  
And when in long discourse you well are tried,  
Then in short verse by turns we'll gently play:  
In love begin, in love we'll end the day.  
Daphnis, thou first; to me you both are dear:  
Ah, if I might, I would not judge, but hear:  
Nought have I of a judge, but an impartial ear.   Daph. 

7  
Phoebus, if as thy words, thy oaths are true;  
Give me that verse which to the honoured bay  
(That verse which by thy promise now is due)  
To honoured Daphne in a sweet tuned lay  
(Daphne thy changed, thy love unchanged aye)  
Thou sangest late, when she now better stayed,  
More humane when a tree, then when a maid,  
Bending her head, thy love with gentle sign repaid.   

8  
What tongue, what thought can paint my Love's perfection?  
So sweet hath nature portrayed every part,  
That art will prove that artists imperfection,  
Who, when no eye dare view, dares limb her face,  
Phoebus, in vain I call thy help to blaze  
More light than thine, a light that never fell:  
Thou tell'st what's done in heaven, in earth, and hell:  
Her worth thou mayst admire; there are no words to tell.   

9  
She is like thee, or thou art like her, rather:  
Such as her hair, thy beams; thy single light,  
As her twin-sunnes: that creature then, I gather,  
Twice heavenly is, where two suns shine so bright:  
So thou, as she, confound'st the gazing sight:  
Thy absence is my night; her absence hell.  
Since then in all thyself she doth excel,  
What is beyond thyself, how canst thou hope to tell?   

10  
First her I saw, when tired with hunting toil,  
In shady grove spent with the weary chase,  
Her naked breast lay open to the spoil;  
The crystal humour trickling down apace,  
Like ropes of pearl, her neck and breast enlace:  
The air (my rival air) did coolly glide  
Through every part: such when my Love I spied,  
So soon I saw my Love, so soon I loved, and died.   

11  
Her face two colours paint; the first a flame,  
(Yet she all cold) a flame in rosy die,  
Which sweetly blushes like the morning's shame:  
The second snow, such as on Alps doth lie,  
And safely there the sun doth bold defy:  
Yet this cold snow can kindle hot desire.  
Thou miracle; mar'le not, if I admire,  
How flame should coldly freeze, and snow should burn as fire.   

12  
Her slender waste, her hand, that dainty breast,  
Her cheek, her forehead, eye, and flaming hair,  
And those hid beauties; which must sure be best,  
In vain to speak, when words will more impair:  
Of all the fairs she is the fairest fair.  
Cease then vain words; well may you show affection,  
But not her worth: the mind her sweet perfection  
Admires: how should it then give the lame tongue direction?   Thom. 

13  
Unless thy words be flitting as thy wave,  
Proteus', that song into my breast inspire,  
With which the seas (when loud they roar and rave)  
Thou softly charmest, and winds intestine ire  
(When against heaven, earth, and seas they did conspire)  
Thou quiet laidst: Proteus, thy song to hear,  
Seas listening stand, and winds to whistle fear;  
The lively Delphins' dance, and brisly Seals give ear.   

14  
Stella, my starlike love, my lovely star:  
Her hair a lovely brown, her forehead high,  
And lovely fair; such her cheeks roses are:  
Lovely her lip, most lovely is her eye:  
And as in each of these all love doth lie;  
So thousand loves within her mind retiring,  
Kindle ten thousand loves with gentle firing.  
Ah let me love my Love, not live in loves admiring?   

15  
At Proteus feast, where many a goodly boy,  
And many a lovely lass did lately meet;  
There first I found, there first I lost my joy:  
Her face mine eye, her voice mine ear did greet;  
While ear & eye strove which should be most sweet,  
That face, or voice: but when my lips at last  
Saluted hers, those senses strove as fast,  
Which most those lips did please; the eye, ear, touch, or taste.   

16  
The eye swears, never fairer lip was eyed;  
The ear with those sweet relishes delighted,  
Thinks them the spheres; the taste that nearer tried  
Their relish sweet, the soul to feast invited;  
The touch, with pressure soft more close united,  
Wished ever there to dwell; and never cloyed,  
(While thus their joy too greedy they enjoyed)  
Enjoyed not half their joy, by being overjoyed.   

17  
Her hair all dark more clear the white doth show,  
And with its night her faces morn commends:  
Her eyebrow black, like to an ebon bow;  
Which sporting Love upon her forehead bends,  
And thence his never-missing arrow sends.  
But most I wonder how that jetty ray,  
Which those two blackest suns do fair display,  
Should shine so bright, & night should make so sweet a day.   

18  
So is my love an heaven; her hair a night:  
Her shining forehead Diana's silver light:  
Her eyes the stars; their influence delight:  
Her voice the spheres; her cheek Aurora bright:  
Her breast the globes, where heaven's path milkie-white  
Runs 'twixt those hills: her hand (Arion's touch)  
As much delights the eye, the ear as much.  
Such is my Love, that, but my Love, was never such.   Thirsil. 

19  
The earth her robe, the sea her swelling tide;  
The trees their leaves, the moon her diverse face;  
The stars their courses, flowers their springing pride;  
Days change their length, the Sun his daily race:  
Be constant when you love; Love loves not ranging:  
Change when you sing; Muse's delight in changing.   Daph. 

20  
Pan loves the pinetree; jove the oak approves;  
High populars Alcides' temples crown:  
Phoebus, though in a tree, still Daphne loves,  
And hyacinths, though living now in ground:  
Shepherds, if you yourselves would victors see,  
Girt then this head with Phoebus' flower and tree.   Thom. 

21  
Alcinous pears, Pomona apples bore:  
Bacchus the vine, the olive Pallas chose:  
Venus loves myrtils, myrtils love the shore:  
Venus Adonis loves, who freshly blows,  
Yet breathes no more: wove, lads, with myrtils roses  
And bay, and hyacinth the garland loses.   Daph. 

22  
Mira, thine eyes are those twin-heav'nly powers,  
Which to the widowed earth new offspring bring:  
No marvel then, if still thy face so flowers,  
And cheeks with beauteous blossoms freshly spring:  
So is thy face a never-fading May:  
So is thine eye a never-falling day.   Thom. 

23  
Stella, thine eyes are those twin-brothers fair,  
Which tempests slake, and promise quiet seas:  
No marvel then if thy brown shady hair,  
Like night, por tend sweet rest and gentle ease.  
Thus is thine eye an ever-calming light:  
Thus is thy hair a lovers ne'r-spent night.   Daph. 

24  
If sleepy poppies yield to lilies white;  
If black to snowy lambs; if night to day;  
If Western shades to fair Aurora's light;  
Stella must yield to Mira's shining ray.  
In day we sport, in day we shepherds toy:  
The night, for wolves; the light, the shepherd's joy.   Thom. 

25  
Who white-thorn equals with the violet?  
What workman rest compares with painful light?  
Who wears the glaring glass, and scorns the jet?  
Day yield to her, that is both day and night.  
In night the fishers thrive, the workmen play;  
Love loves the night; night's lover's holiday.   Daph. 

26  
Fly thou the seas, fly far the dangerous shore:  
Mira, if thee the king of seas should spy,  
He'll think Medusa (sweeter than before)  
With fairer hair, and double fairer eye,  
Is changed again; and with thee ebbing low,  
In his deep courts again will never flow.   Thom. 

27  
Stella, avoid both Phoebus' ear, and eye:  
His music he will scorn, if thee he hear:  
thou Daphne, (if thy face by chance he spy)  
Daphne now fairer changed, he'll rashly swear:  
And viewing thee, will later rise and fall;  
Or viewing thee, will never rise at all.   Daph. 

28  
Phoebus and Pan both strive my love to gain,  
And seek by gifts to win my careless heart;  
Pan vows with lambs to fill the fruitful plain;  
Apollo offers skill, and pleasing art:  
But Stella, if thou grant my suit, a kiss;  
Phoebus and Pan their suit, my love, shall miss.   Thom. 

29  
Proteus' himself, and Glaucus seek unto me;  
And twenty gifts to please my mind devise:  
Proteus with songs, Glaucus with fish doth woe me:  
Both strive to win, but I them both despise:  
For if my Love my love will entertain,  
Proteus himself, and Glaucus seek in vain.   Daph. 

30  
Two twin, two spotted lambs, (my songs reward)  
With them a cup I got, where Jove assumed  
New shapes, to mock his wives too jealous guard;  
Full of Jove's fires it burns still unconsumed:  
But Mira, if thou gently deign to shine,  
Thine be the cup, the spotted lambs be thine.   Thom. 

31  
A pair of swans are mine, and all their train;  
With them a cup, which Thetis self bestowed,  
As she of love did hear me sadly plain;  
A pearled cup, where Nectar oft hath flowed:  
But if my Love will love the gift, and giver;  
Thine be the cup, thine be the swans for ever.   Daph. 

32  
Thrice happy swains! thrice happy shepherd's fate!   Thom. 
Ah blessed life! ah blessed fishers state!  
Your pipes assuage your love; your nets maintain you.  Daph. 
Your lambkins cloth you warm; your flocks sustain you:  
Your fear no stormy seas, nor tempests roaring.  Thom. 
You sit not rots or burning stars deploring:  
In calms you fish; in roughs use songs and dances.  Daph. 
More do you fear your Love's sweet-bitter glances,  
Then certain fate, or fortune ever changing.  Thom. 
Ah that the life in seas so safely ranging,  
Should with loves weeping eye be sunk, and drowned!  Daph. 
The shepherd's life Phoebus a shepherd crowned,  
His snowy flocks by stately Peneus leading.  Thom. 
What herb was that, on which old Glaucus feeding,  
Grows never old, but now the gods augmenteth?  Daph. 
Delia herself her rigour hard relenteth:  
To play with shepherd's boy she's not ashamed.  Thom. 
Venus, of frothy seas thou first wast framed;  
The waves thy cradle: now Love's Queen art named.  Daph. 

33  
Thou gentle boy, what prize may well reward thee?  
So slender gift as this not half requites thee.  
May prosperous stars, and quiet seas regard thee;  
But most, that pleasing star that most delights thee:  
May Proteus still and Glaucus dearest hold thee;  
But most, her influence all safe enfold thee:  
May she with gentle beams from her fair sphere behold thee.   Thom. 

34  
As whistling winds against rocks their voices tearing;  
As rivers through the valleys softly gliding;  
As haven after cruel tempests fearing;  
Such, fairest boy, such is thy verses sliding.  
Thine be the prize: may Pan and Phoebus grace thee;  
Most, whom thou most admirest, may she embrace thee;  
And flaming in thy love, with snowy arms enlace thee.   Thirsil. 

35  
You lovely boys, full well your art you guided;  
That with your striving songs your strife is ended:  
So you yourselves the cause have well decided;  
And by no judge can your award be mended.  
Then since the prize for only one intended  
You both refuse, we justly may reserve it,  
And as your offering in Love's temple serve it;  
Since none of both deserve, when both so well deserve it.   

36  
Yet, for such songs should ever be rewarded;  
Daphnis, take thou this hook of ivory clearest,  
Given me by Pan, when Pan my verse regarded:  
This fears the wolf, when most the wolf thou fearest.  
But thou, my Thomalin, my love, my dearest,  
Take thou this pipe, which oft proud storms restrained;  
Which, spite of Chamus' spite, I still retained:  
Was never little pipe more soft, more sweetly plained.   

37  
And you, fair troop, if Thirsil you disdain not,  
Vouch safe with me to take some short refection:  
Excess, or daints my lowly roofs maintain not;  
Pears, apples, plums, no sugared made confection.  
So up they rose, and by Love's sweet direction  
Sea-nymphs with shepherd's sort: sea-boys complain not  
That wood-nymphs with like love them entertain not.  
And all the day to songs and dances lending,  
Too swift it runs, and spends too fast in spending.  
With day their sports began, with day they take their ending.    
FINIS.   

POETICAL MISCELLANIES.  

An Hymen at the Marriage of my most dear Cousins Mr. W. and M. R.  

CHamus, that with thy yellow-sanded stream  
Slid'st softly down where thousand Muses dwell,  
Gracing their bowers, but thou more graced by them;  
Hark Chamus, from thy low-built greeny cell;  
Hark, how our Kentish woods with Hymen ring,  
While all the Nymphs, and all the shepherds sing,  
Hymen, oh Hymen, here thy saffron garment bring.   

With him a shoal of goodly shepherd-swains;  
Yet he more goodly than the goodliest swain:  
With her a troop of fairest wood-nymphs trains;  
Yet the more fair than fairest of the train:  
And all in course their voice attempering,  
While the woods back their bounding Echo fling,  
Hymen, come holy Hymen; Hymen loud they sing.   

His high-built forehead almost maiden fair,  
Hath made an hundred Nymphs her chance envying:  
Her more than silver skin, and golden hair,  
'Cause of a thousand shepherds forced dying.  
Where better could her love then here have nested?  
Or he his thoughts more daintily have feasted?  
Hymen, come Hymen; here thy saffron coat is rested.   

His looks resembling humble Majesty,  
Rightly his fairest mother's grace besitteth:  
In her face blushing, fearful modesty,  
The Queens of chastity and beauty, sitteth:  
There cheerfulness all sadness far exileth:  
Here love with bow unbent all gently smileth.  
Hymen come, Hymen come; no spot thy garment' fileth.   

Love's bow in his bend eyebrows bended lies,  
And in his eyes a thousand darts of loving:  
Her shining stars, which (fools) we oft call eyes,  
As quick as heaven itself in speedy moving;  
And this in both the only difference being,  
Other stars blind, these stars endued with seeing.  
Hymen, come Hymen; all is for thy rites agreeing.   

His breast a shelf of purest alabaster,  
Where Love's self sailing often shipwrecked sitteth:  
Hers a twin-rock, unknown but to th'ship-master;  
Which though him safe receives, all other splitteth:  
Both Love's highway, yet by Love's self unbeaten,  
Most like the milky path which crosses heaven.  
Hymen, come Hymen; all their marriage joys are even.   

And yet all these but as gilt covers be;  
Within, a book more fair we written find:  
For Nature, framing th' Alls epitome,  
Set in the face the Index of the mind.  
Their bodies are but Temples, built for state,  
To shrine the Graces in their silver plate:  
Come Hymen, Hymen come, these Temples consecreate.   

Hymen, the tier of hearts already tied;  
Hymen, the end of lovers never ending;  
Hymen, the cause of joys, joys never tried;  
Joys never to be spent, yet ever spending:  
Hymen, that sow'st with men the desert sands;  
Come, bring with thee, come bring thy sacred bands:  
Hymen, come Hymen, th' hearts are joined, join thou the hands.   

Warrant of lovers, the true seal of loving,  
Signed with the face of joy; the holy knot,  
That binds two hearts, and holds from slippery moving;  
A gainful loss, a stain without a blot;  
That mak'st one soul as two, and two as one;  
Yoke lightning burdens; love's foundation:  
Hymen, come Hymen, now untie the maiden zone.   

Thou that mad'st Man a brief of all thou mad'st,  
A little living world, and mad'st him twain,  
Dividing him whom first thou one creat'st,  
And by this bond mad'st one of two again,  
Bidding her cleave to him, and him to her,  
And leave their parents, when no parents were:  
Hymen, send Hymen from thy sacred bosom here.   

See where he goes, how all the troop he cheereth,  
Clad with a saffron coat, in's hand a light;  
In all his brow not one sad cloud appeareth:  
His coat all pure, his torch all burning bright.  
Now chant we Hymen, shepherd's; Hymen sing:  
See where he goes, as fresh as is the Spring.  
Hymen, oh Hymen, Hymen, all the valleys ring.   

Oh happy pair, where nothing wants to either,  
Both having to content, and be contented;  
Fortune and nature being spare to neither!  
ne'er may this bond of holy love be rent,  
But like two parallels, run a level race,  
In just proportion, and in even space.  
Hymen, thus Hymen will their spotless marriage grace.   

Live each of other firmly loved, and loving;  
As far from hate, as self-ill, jealousy:  
Moving like heaven still in the self same moving;  
In motion ne'er forgetting constancy.  
Be all your days as this; no cause to plain:  
Free from satiety, or (but lovers) pain.  
Hymen, so Hymen still their present joys maintain.    

To my beloved Cousin W. R. Esquire. Calend. januar.  

COusin, day-birds are silenced, and those fowl  
Yet only sing, which hate warm Phoebus' light;  
Th' unlucky * Parra, and death-boding Owl,  
Which ushering in to heaven their mistress Night,  
Hollow their mates, triumphing o'er the quick-spent light.   

The wronged Philomela hath left to plain  
Tereus' constraint and cruel ravishment:  
Seems the poor bird hath lost her tongue again.  
Progne long since is gone to banishment;  
And the loud-tuned Thrush leaves all her merriment.   

All so my frozen Muse, hid in my breast,  
To come into the open air refuses;  
And dragged at length from hence, doth oft protest,  
This is no time for Phoebus-loving Muses;  
When the farre-distant sun our frozen coast disuses.   

Then till the sun, which yet in fishes hasks,  
Or watery urn, impounds his fainting head,  
'Twixt Taurus' horns his warmer beam unmasks,  
And sooner rises, later goes to bed;  
Calling back all the flowers, now to their mother fled:   

Till Philomela resumes her tongue again,  
And Progne fierce returns from long exiling;  
Till the shrill Blackbird chants his merry vein;  
And the day-birds the long-lived sun beguiling,  
Renew their mirth, and the years pleasant smiling:   

Here must I stay, in sullen study penned,  
Among our Cambridge fens my time misspending;  
But then revisit our long-long'd-for Kent.  
Till then live happy, the time ever mending:  
Happy the first o'th' year, thrice happy be the ending.    

To Master W. C.  

WIlly my dear, that late by Haddam sitting,  
By little Haddam, in those private shades,  
Unto thy fancy thousand pleasures fitting,  
With dainty Nymphs in those retired glades,  
Didst spend thy time; (time that too quickly fades)  
Ah! much I fear, that those so pleasing toys  
Have too much lulled thy sense and mind in slumbering joys.   

Now art thou come to nearer Maddingly,  
Which with fresh sport and pleasure doth enthrall thee;  
There new delights withdraw thy ear, thy eye;  
Too much I fear, left some ill chance befall thee:  
Hark, how the Cambridge Muses thence recall thee;  
Willy our dear, Willy his time abuses:  
But sure thou hast forgot our Chame, and Cambridge Muses.   

Return now, Willy; now at length return thee:  
Here thou and I, under the sprouting vine,  
By yellow Chame, where no hot ray shall burn thee,  
Will fit, and sing among the Muses nine;  
And safely covered from the scalding shine,  
We'll read that Mantuan shepherds sweet complaining  
Whom fair Alexis grieved with his unjust disdaining:   

And when we list to lower notes descend,  
Hear Thirsil's moan, and Fusca's cruelty:  
He cares not now his ragged flock to tend,  
Fusca his care, but careless enemy:  
Hope oft he sees shine in her humble eye;  
But soon her angry words of hope deprives him:  
So often dies with love, but love as oft revives him.    

To my ever honoured Cousin W. R. Esquire.  

STrange power of home, with how strong-twisted arms  
And Gordian-twined knot dost thou enchain me!  
Never might fair Calisto's doubled charms,  
Nor powerful Circe's whispering so detain me,  
Though all her art she spent to entertain me;  
Their presence could not force a weak desire:  
But (oh!) thy powerful absence breeds still-growing fire.   

By night thou try'st with strong imagination  
To force my sense against reason to belie it:  
Me thinks I see the fast-imprinted fashion  
Of every place, and now I fully eye it;  
And though with fear, yet cannot well deny it,  
Till the morn bell awakes me; then for spite  
I shut mine eyes again, and wish back such a night.   

But in the day, my never-slaked desire  
Will cast to prove by welcome forgery,  
That for my absence I am much the nigher;  
Seeking to please with soothing flattery.  
Love's wing is thought; and thought will soon fly,  
Where it finds want: then as our love is dearer,  
Absence yields presence; distance makes us nearer.   

Ah! might I in some humble Kentish dale  
For ever easily spend my slow-paced hours;  
Much should I scorn fair Aeton's pleasant vale,  
Or Windsor Tempe's self, and proudest towers:  
There would I sit safe from the stormy showers,  
And laugh the troublous winds, and angry sky.  
Piping (ah!) might I live, and piping might I die!   

And would my lucky fortune so much grace me,  
As in low Cranebrook, or high Brenchly's hill,  
Or in some cabin near thy dwelling place me,  
There would I gladly sport, and sing my fill,  
And teach my tender Muse to raise her quill;  
And that high Mantuan shepherd self to dare;  
If aught with that high Mantuan shepherd might compare.   

There would I chant either thy Gemmas praise,  
Or else my Fusca; (fairest shepherdess)  
Or when me list my slender pipe to raise,  
Sing of Eliza's fixed mournfulnesse,  
And much bewail such woeful heaviness;  
Whilst she a dear-loved Hart (ah luckless!) slew:  
Whose fall she all too late, too soon, too much, did rue.   

But seeing now I am not as I would,  
But here among th'unhonoured willows shade,  
The muddy Chame doth me enforced hold;  
Here I forswear my merry piping trade:  
My little pipe of seven reeds maked  
(Ah pleasing pipe!) I'll hang upon this bough.  
Thou Chame, and Chamish Nymphs, bear witness of my vow.    

To E. C. in Cambridge, my son by the University.  

WHen first my mind called itself in to think,  
There fell a strife not easy for to end;  
Which name should first crown the white papers brink,  
An awing father, or an equal friend:  
Fortune gives choice of either to my mind;  
Both bonds to tie the soul, it never move;  
That of commanding, this of easy love.   

The lines of love, which from a father's heart  
Are drawn down to the son; and from the son  
Ascend to th'father, drawn from every part,  
Each other cut, and from the first transition  
Still further wander with more wide partition:  
But friends, like parallels, run a level race,  
In just proportion, and most even space.   

Then since a double choice, double affection  
Hath placed itself in my twice-loving breast;  
No title then can add to this perfection,  
Nor better that, which is already best:  
So naming one, I must imply the rest;  
The same a father, and a friend; or rather,  
Both one; a father-friend, and a friend-father.   

No marvel then the difference of the place  
Makes in my mind at all no difference:  
For love is not produced or penned in space,  
Having i'th' soul his only residence.  
Love's fire is thought; and thought is never thence,  
Where it feels want: then where a love is dear,  
The mind in farthest distance is most near.   

Me Kent holds fast with thousand sweet embraces;  
(There might I die with thee, there with thee live!)  
All in the shades, the Nymphs and naked Graces  
Fresh joys and still-succeeding pleasures give;  
So much we sport, we have no time to grieve:  
Here do we sit, and laugh white-headed caring;  
And know no sorrow simple pleasures marring.   

A crown of wood-nymphs spread i'th' graffie plain  
Sat round about, no niggards of their faces;  
Nor do they cloud their fair with black disdain;  
All to myself will they impart their graces:  
Ah! not such joys find I in other places:  
To them I often pipe, and often sing,  
Sweet notes to sweeter voices tempering.   

And now but late I sang the Hymen toys  
Of two fair lovers, (fairer were there never)  
That in one bed coupled their spousal joys;  
Fortune and Nature being scant to neither:  
What other dare not wish, was full in either.  
Thrice happy bed, thrice happy lovers firing,  
Where present blessings have outstripped desiring!   

And when me list to sadder tunes apply me,  
Pasilia's dirge, and Eupathus complaining;  
And often while my pipe lies idle by me,  
Read Fusca's deep disdain, and Thirsil's plaining;  
Yet in that face is no room for disdaining;  
Where cheerful kindness smiles in either eye,  
And beauty still kisses humility.   

Then do not marvel Kentish strong delights  
Stealing the time, do here so long detain me:  
Not powerful Circe with her Hecate rites,  
Nor pleasing Lotos' thus could entertain me,  
As Kentish powerful pleasures here enchain me.  
Mean time, the Nymphs that in our Brenchly use,  
Kindly salute your busy Cambridge Muse.    

To my beloved Thenot in answer of his verse.  

THenot my dear, how can a lofty hill  
To lowly shepherd's thoughts be rightly fitting?  
An humble dale well fits with humble quill:  
There may I safely sing, all fearless sitting,  
My Fusca's eyes, my Fusca's beauty dittying;  
My loved loneness, and hid Muse enjoying:  
Yet shouldst thou come, and see our simple toying,  
Well would fair Thenot like our sweet retired joying.   

But if my Thenot love my humble vein,  
(Too lowly vein) ne'er let him Colin call me;  
He, while he was, was (ah!) the choicest swain,  
That ever graced a reed: what ere befall me,  
Or Myrtil, (so'fore Fusca fair did thrall me,  
Most was I known) or now poor Thirsil name me,  
Thirsil, for so my Fusca pleases frame me:  
But never mounting Colin; Colin's high style will shame me.   

Two shepherds I adore with humble love;  
Th' high-towring swain, that by slow Mincius waves  
His well-grown wings at first did lowly prove,  
Where Corydon's sick love full sweetly raves;  
But after sung bold Turnus daring braves:  
And next our nearer Colin's sweetest strain;  
Most, where he most his Rosalind doth plain.  
Well may I after look, but follow all in vain.   

Why then speaks Thenot of the honoured Bay?  
Apollo's self, though fain, could not obtain her;  
She at his melting songs would scorn to stay,  
Though all his art he spent to entertain her:  
Wild beasts he tamed, yet never could detain her.  
Then sit we here within this willow glade:  
Here for my Thenot I a garland made  
With purple violets, and lovely myrtil shade.    

Upon the picture of Achmat the Turkish tyrant.  

SUch Achmat is, the Turks great Emperor,  
Third son to Mahomet, whose youthly spring  
But now with blossomed cheek begins to flower;  
Out of his face you well may read a King:  
Which who will throughly view, will easily find  
A perfect Index to his haughty mind.   

Within his breast, as in a palace, lie  
Wakeful ambition leagued with hasty pride;  
Fierceness allied with Turkish Majesty;  
Rests hate, in which his father living died:  
Deep in his heart such Turkish virtue lies,  
And thus looks through the window of his eyes.   

His pleasure (far from pleasure) is to see  
His navy spread her wings unto the wind:  
In stead of gold, arms fill his treasury,  
Which (numberless) fill not his greedy mind.  
The sad Hungarian fears his tried might;  
And waning Persia trembles at his sight.   

His greener youth, most with the heathen spent,  
Gives Christian Princes justest cause to fear  
His riper age, whose childhood thus is bend,  
A thousand trophies will he shortly rear,  
Unless that God, who gave him first this rage,  
Bind his proud head in humble vassalage.    

To Mr. Jo. Tomkins.  

THomalin my lief, thy music strains to hear,  
More raps my soul, then when the swelling winds  
On craggy rocks their whistling voices tear;  
Or when the sea, if stopped his course he finds,  
With broken murmurs thinks weak shores to fear,  
Scorning such sandy cords his proud head binds:  
More than where rivers in the summer's ray  
(Through covert glades cutting their shady way)  
Run tumbling down the lawns, & with the pebbles play.   

Thy strains to hear, old Chamus from his cell  
Comes guarded with an hundred Nymphs around;  
An hundred Nymphs, that in his rivers dwell,  
About him flock with water-lilies crowned:  
For thee the Muses leave their silver well,  
And marvel where thou all their art hast found:  
There sitting they admire thy dainty strains,  
And while thy sadder accent sweetly plains,  
Feel thousand sugared joys creep in their melting veins.   

How oft have I, the Muse's bower frequenting,  
Missed them at home, and found them all with thee!  
Whether thou singest sad Eupathus lamenting,  
Or tunest notes to sacred harmony,  
The ravished soul, with thy sweet songs consenting,  
Scorning the earth, in heavenly ecstasy  
Transcends the stars, and with the angels train  
Those courts survaies; and now come back again,  
Finds yet another heaven in thy delightful strain.   

Ah! couldst thou here thy humble mind content  
Lowly with me to live in country cell,  
And learn suspect the courts proud blandishment;  
Here might we safe, here might we sweetly dwell.  
Live Pallas in her towers and marble tent;  
But (ah!) the country bowers please me as well:  
There with my Thomalin I safe would sing,  
And frame sweet ditties to thy sweeter string:  
There would we laugh at spite and fortunes thundering.   

No flattery, hate, or envy lodgeth there;  
There no suspicion walled in proved steel,  
Yet fearful of the arms herself doth wear:  
Pride is not there; no tyrant there we feel;  
No clamorous laws shall deaf thy music ear:  
They know no change, nor wanton fortunes wheel:  
Thousand fresh sports grow in those dainty places:  
Light Fawns & Nymphs dance in the woody spaces,  
And little Love himself plays with the naked Graces.   

But seeing fate my happy wish refuses,  
Let me alone enjoy my low estate.  
Of all the gifts that fair Parnassus uses,  
Only scorned poverty, and fortunes hate  
Common I find to me, and to the Muses:  
But with the Muses welcome poorest fate.  
Safe in my humble cottage will I rest;  
And lifting up from my untainted breast  
A quiet spirit to heaven, securely live, and blessed.   

To thee I here bequeath the courtly joys,  
Seeing to court my Thomalin is bend:  
Take from thy Thirsil these his idle toys;  
Here I will end my loser merriment:  
And when thou singest them to the wanton boys,  
Among the courtly lass' blandishment,  
Think of thy Thirsil's love that never spends;  
And softly say, his love still better mends:  
Ah too unlike the love of court, or courtly friends!   

Go little pipe; for ever I must leave thee,  
My little little pipe, but sweetest ever:  
Go, go; for I have vowed to see thee never,  
Never, (ah!) never must I more receive thee;  
But he in better love will still persever:  
Go little pipe, for I must have a new:  
Farewell ye Norfolk maids, and Ida crew:  
Thirsil will play no more; for ever now adieu.    

To Thomalin.  

THomalin, since Thirsil nothing has to leave thee,  
And leave thee must; pardon me (gentle friend)  
If nothing but my love I only give thee;  
Yet see how great this Nothing is, I send:  
For though this love of thine I sweetest prove,  
Nothing's more sweet than is this sweetest love.   

The soldier Nothing like his prey esteems;  
Nothing tossed sailors equal with the shore:  
Nothing before his health the sick man deems;  
The pilgrim hugs his country; Nothing more:  
The miser hoarding up his golden wares,  
This Nothing with his precious wealth compares.   

Our thoughts ambition only Nothing ends;  
Nothing fills up the golden-dropsied mind:  
The prodigal, that all so lavish spends,  
Yet Nothing cannot; Nothing stays behind:  
The King, that with his life a kingdom buys,  
Then life or crown doth Nothing higher prize.   

Who all enjoys, yet Nothing now desires;  
Nothing is greater than the highest jove:  
Who dwells in heaven, (then) Nothing more requires;  
Love, more than honey; Nothing more sweet than love:  
Nothing is only better than the best;  
Nothing is sure: Nothing is ever blessed.   

I love my health, my life, my books, my friends,  
Thee; (dearest Thomalin) Nothing above thee:  
For when my books, friends, health, life, fainting ends,  
When thy love fails, yet Nothing still will love me:  
When heaven, and air, the earth, and floating mains  
Are gone, yet Nothing still untouched remains.   

Since then to other streams I must betake me,  
And spiteful Chame of all has quite bereft me;  
Since Muse's selves (false Muses) will forsake me,  
And but this Nothing, nothing else is left me;  
Take thou my love, and keep it still in store:  
That given, Nothing now remaineth more.    

Against a rich man despising poverty.  

IF well thou viewst us with no squinted eye,  
No partial judgement, thou wilt quickly rate  
Thy wealth no richer than my poverty;  
My want no poorer than thy rich estate:  
Our ends and births alike; in this, as I;  
Poor thou wert born, and poor again shalt die.   

My little fills my little-wishing mind;  
Thou having more then much, yet seekest more:  
Who seeks, still wishes what he seeks, to find;  
Who wishes, wants; and who so wants, is poor:  
Then this must follow of necessity;  
Poor are thy riches, rich my poverty.   

Though still thou get'st, yet is thy want not spent,  
But as thy wealth, so grows thy wealthy itch:  
But with my little I have much content;  
Content hath all; and who hath all, is rich:  
Then this in reason thou must needs confess,  
If I have little, yet that thou hast less.   

What ever man possesses, God hath lent,  
And to his audit liable is ever,  
To reckon, how, and where, and when he spent:  
Then this thou bragg'st, thou art a great receiver:  
Little my debt, when little is my store:  
The more thou hast, thy debt still grows the more.   

But seeing God himself descended down  
T' enrich the poor by his rich poverty;  
His meat, his house, his grave, were not his own,  
Yet all is his from all eternity:  
Let me be like my Head, whom I adore:  
Be thou great, wealthy, I still base and poor.    

Contemnenti.  

Continual burning, yet no fire or fuel,  
Chill icy frosts in midst of summer's frying,  
A hell most pleasing, and a heaven most cruel,  
A death still living, and a life still dying,  
And whatsoever pains poor hearts can prove,  
I feel, and utter in one word, I LOVE.   

Two fires, of love and grief, each upon either,  
And both upon one poor heart ever feeding;  
I'll cold despair, most cold, yet cooling neither,  
In midst of fires his icy frosts is breeding:  
So fires and frosts, to make a perfect hell,  
Meet in one breast, in one house friendly dwell.   

Tired in this toilsome way (my deep affection)  
I ever forward run, and never ease me:  
I dare not swerve, her eye is my direction:  
A heavy grief, and weighty love oppress me.  
Desire and hope, two spurs, that forth compelled me;  
But awful fear, abridle, still withheld me.   

Twice have I plunged, and flung, and strove to cast  
This double burden from my weary heart:  
Fast though I run, and stop, they sit as fast:  
Her looks my bait, which she doth seld ' impart.  
Thus fainting, still some inn I wish and crave;  
Either her maiden bosom, or my grave.    

A vow.  

BY hope and fear, by grief and joy oppressed,  
With deadly hate, more deadly love infected;  
Without, within, in body, soul, distressed;  
Little by all, least by myself respected,  
But most, most there, where most I loved, neglected;  
Hated, and hating life, to death I call;  
Who scorns to take what is refused by all.   

Whither, ah, whither then wilt thou betake thee,  
Despised wretch, of friends, of all forlorn,  
Since hope, and love, and life, and death forsake thee?  
Poor soul, thy own tormenter, others scorn!  
Whither, poor soul, ah, whither wilt thou turn?  
What inn, what host (scorned wretch) wilt thou now choose thee?  
The common host, and inn, death, grave, refuse thee.   

To thee, great Love, to thee I prostrate fall,  
That right'st in love the heart in false love swerved:  
On thee, true Love, on thee I weeping call;  
I, who am scorned, where with all truth I served,  
On thee, so wronged, where thou hast so deserved:  
Disdained, where most I loved, to thee I plain me,  
Who truly lovest those, who (fools) disdain thee.   

Thou never-erring Way, in thee direct me;  
Thou Death of death, oh, in thy death engrave me:  
Thou hated Love, with thy firm love respect me;  
Thou freest Servant, from this yoke unslave me:  
Glorious Salvation, for thy glory save me.  
So neither love, nor hate, scorn, death, shall move me;  
But with thy love, great Love, I still shall love thee.    

On women's lightness.  

Who sows the sand? or ploughs the easy shore?  
Or strives in nets to prison in the wind?  
Yet I, (fond I) more fond, and senseless more,  
Thought in sure love a woman's thoughts to bind.  
Fond, too fond thoughts, that thought in love to tie  
One more inconstant than inconstancy!   

Look as it is with some true April day,  
Whose various weather stores the world with flowers;  
The sun his glorious beams doth fair display,  
Then reins, and shines again, and strait it lours,  
And twenty changes in one hour doth prove;  
So, and more changing is a woman's love.   

Or as the hairs which deck their wanton heads,  
Which loosely fly, and play with every wind,  
And with each blast turn round their golden threads;  
Such as their hair, such is their loser mind:  
The difference this, their hair is often bound;  
But never bonds a woman might impound.   

False is their flattering colour, false and fading;  
False is their flattering tongue; false every part:  
Their hair is forged, their silver foreheads shading;  
False are their eyes, but falsest is their heart:  
Then this in consequence must needs ensue;  
All must be false, when every part's untrue.   

Fond then my thoughts, which thought a thing so vain!  
Fond hopes, that anchor on so false a ground!  
Fond love, to love what could not love again!  
Fond heart, thus fired with love, in hope thus drowned!  
Fond thoughts, fond heart, fond hope; but fondest I,  
To grasp the wind, and love inconstancy!    

A reply upon the fair M. S.  

A Dainty maid, that draws her double name  
From bitter sweetness, (with sweet bitterness)  
Did late my skill and faulty verses blame,  
And to her loving friend did plain confess,  
That I my former credit foul did shame,  
And might no more a poet's name profess:  
The cause that with my verse she was offended,  
For women's levity I discommended.   

Too true you said, that poet I was never,  
And I confess it (fair) if that content ye,  
That then I played the poet less than ever;  
Not, for of such a verse I now repent me,  
(Poets to feign, and make fine lies endeavour)  
But I the truth, truth (ah!) too certain sent ye:  
Then that I am no poet I deny not;  
For when their lightness I condemn, I lie not.   

But if my verse had lied against my mind,  
And praised that which truth cannot approve,  
And falsely said, they were as fair as kind,  
As true as sweet, their faith could never move,  
But sure is linked where constant love they find,  
That with sweet braving they vie truth and love;  
If thus I write, it cannot be denied  
But I a poet were, so foul I lied.   

But give me leave to write as I have found:  
Like ruddy apples are their outsides bright,  
Whose skin is fair, the core or heart unsound;  
Whose cherry-cheek the eye doth much delight,  
But inward rottenness the taste doth wound:  
Ah! were the taste so good as is the sight,  
To pluck such apples (lost with self same price)  
Would back restore us part of paradise.   

But truth hath said it, (truth who dare deny?)  
Men seldom are, more seldom women sure:  
But if (fair-sweet) thy truth and constancy  
To better faith thy thoughts and mind procure,  
If thy firm truth could give firm truth the lie,  
If thy first love will first and last endure;  
Thou more than woman art, if time so proves thee,  
And he more than a man, that loved loves thee.    

An Apology for the premises to the Lady Culpepper.  

WHo with a bridle strives to curb the waves?  
Or in a cypress chest locks flaming fires?  
So when love angered in thy bosom raves,  
And grief with love a double flame inspires,  
By silence thou mayst add, but never less it:  
The way is by expressing to repress it.   

Who then will blame affection not respected,  
To vent in grief the grief that so torments him?  
Passion will speak in passion, if neglected:  
Love that so soon will chide, as soon reputes him;  
And therefore boyish Love's too like a boy,  
With a toy pleased, displeased with a toy.   

Have you not seen, when you have chid or fought,  
That lively picture of your lovely beauty,  
Your pretty child, at first to lower or pout,  
But soon again reclaimed to love and duty;  
Forgets the rod, and all her anger ends,  
Plays on your lap, or on your neck depends:   

Too like that pretty child is childish Love,  
That when in anger he is wronged, or beat,  
Will rave and chide, and every passion prove,  
But soon to smiles and fawns turns all his heat,  
And prays, and swears he never more will do it;  
Such one is Love: alas that women know it!   

But if so just excuse will not content ye,  
But still you blame the words of angry Love;  
Here I recant, and of those words repent me:  
In sign hereof I offer now to prove,  
That changing women's love is constant ever,  
And men, though ever firm, are constant never.   

For men that to one fair their passions bind,  
Must ever change, as do those changing fairs;  
So as she altars, altars still their mind,  
And with their fading Loves their love impairs:  
Therefore still moving, as the fair they loved,  
Most do they move, by being most unmoved.   

But women, when their lovers change their graces,  
What first in them they loved, love now in others,  
Affecting still the same in diverse places;  
So never change their love, but change their lovers:  
Therefore their mind is firm and constant proved,  
Seeing they ever love what first they loved.   

Their love tied to some virtue, cannot stray,  
Shifting the outside oft, the inside never:  
But men (when now their Loves dissolved to clay  
Indeed are nothing) still in love persever:  
How then can such fond men be constant made,  
That nothing love, or but (a nothing) shade?   

What fool commends a stone for never moving?  
Or blames the speedy heavens for ever ranging?  
Cease then, fond men, to blaze your constant loving;  
Love's fiery, winged, light, and therefore changing:  
Fond man, that thinks such fire and air to fetter!  
All change; men for the worse, women for better.    

To my only chosen Valentine and wife, Anagram. MAYSTRESS ELISABETH VINCENT IS MY BREASTS CHASTE VALENTINE.  
THink not (fair love) that Chance my hand directed  
To make my choice my chance; blind Chance & hands  
Could never see what most my mind affected;  
But heaven (that ever with chaste true love stands)  
Lent eyes to see what most my heart respected:  
Then do not thou resist what heaven commands;  
But yield thee his, who must be ever thine:  
My heart thy altar is, my breast thy shrine;  
Thy name for ever is, My breasts chaste Valentine.   

A translation of Boëthius, the third book and last verse.  
Happy man, whose perfect sight  
Views the overflowing light!  
Happy man, that canst unbind  
Th' earth-barres pounding up the mind!  
Once his wives quick fate lamenting  
Orpheus sat, his hair all renting,  
While the speedy woods came running,  
And rivers stood to hear his cunning;  
And the lion with the hart  
Joined side to side to hear his art:  
Hares ran with the dogs along,  
Not from dogs, but to his song.  
But when all his verses turning  
Only fanned his poor hearts burning,  
And his grief came but the faster,  
(His verse all easing, but his master)  
Of the higher powers complaining,  
Down he went to hell disdaining:  
There his silver lute-strings hitting,  
And his potent verses fitting,  
All the sweets that e'er he took  
From his sacred mother's brook,  
What his double sorrow gives him,  
And love, that doubly-double grieves him,  
There he spends to move deaf hell,  
Charming devils with his spell,  
And with sweetest ask leave  
Does the lords of ghosts deceive.  
The dog, whose never quiet yell  
Affrights sad souls in night that dwell,  
Pricks up now his thrice two ears;  
To howl, or bark, or whine he fears:  
Struck with dumb wonder at those songs,  
He wished more ears, and fewer tongues.  
Charon amazed his oar foreslows,  
While the boat the sculler rows.  
Tantal might have eaten now  
The fruit as still as is the bough;  
But he (fool!) no hunger fearing,  
Starved his taste, to feed his hearing.  
Ixion, though his wheel stood still,  
Still was rapt with music's skill.  
At length the Judge of souls with pity  
Yields, as conquered with his ditty;  
Let's give back his spouses' hearse,  
Purchased with so pleasing verse:  
Yet this law shall bind our gift,  
He turn not, till has Tartar left.  
Who to laws can lovers draw?  
Love in love is only law:  
Now almost he left the night,  
When he first turned back his sight;  
And at once, while her he eyed,  
His Love he saw, and lost, and died.  
So, who strives out of the night  
To bring his soul to joy in light,  
Yet again turns back his eye  
To view left hell's deformity;  
Though he seems enlightened more,  
Yet is blacker than afore.   

A translation of Boëthius, book 2 verse 7.  

WHo only honour seeks with prone affection,  
And thinks that glory is his greatest bliss;  
First let him view the heaven's wide-stretched section,  
Then in some map the earth's short narrowness:  
Well may he blush to see his name not able  
To fill one quarter of so brief a table.   

Why then should high-grow'n minds so much rejoice  
To draw their stubborn necks from man's subjection?  
For though loud fame stretch high her prattling voice  
To blaze abroad their virtues great pefection;  
Though goodly titles of their house adorn them  
With ancient Heraldry, yet death doth scorn them:  
The high and base lie in the self same grave;  
No difference there between a King and slave.   

Where now are true Fabricius bones remaining?  
Who knows where Brutus, or rough Cato lives?  
Only a weak report, their names sustaining,  
In records old a slender knowledge gives:  
Yet when we read the deeds of men inhumed,  
Can we by that know them, long since consumed?   

Now therefore lie you buried and forgotten;  
Nor can report frustrate encroaching death:  
Or if you think when you are dead, and rotten,  
You live again by fame, and vulgar breath;  
When with times shadows this false glory wanes,  
You die again: but this your glory gains.    

Upon my brother, Mr G. F. his book entitled Christ's Victory and Triumph.  
FOnd lads, that spend so fast your posting time,  
(Too posting time, that spends your time as fast)  
To chant light toys, or frame some wanton rhyme,  
Where idle boys may glut their lustful taste;  
Or else with praise to cloth some fleshly slime  
With virgin roses, and fair lilies chaste:  
While itching bloods, and youthful ears adore it;  
But wiser men, and once yourselves will most abhor it.  
But thou, (most near, most dear) in this of thine  
Hast proved the Muses not to Venus bound;  
Such as thy matter, such thy Muse, divine:  
Or thou such grace with mercy's self haste found,  
That she herself deigns in thy leaves to shine;  
Or stolen from heaven, thou brought'st this verse to ground,  
Which frights the numbed soul with fearful thunder,  
And soon with honeyed dews thaws it'twixt joy and wonder.  
Then do not thou malicious tongues esteem;  
(The glass, through which an envious eye doth gaze,  
Can easily make a molehill mountain seem)  
His praise dispraises; his dispraises praise;  
Enough, if best men best thy labours deem,  
And to the highest pitch thy merit raise;  
While all the Muses to thy song decree  
Victorious Triumph, Triumphant Victory.   

Upon the B. of Exon. Doct. Hall his Meditations.  

MOst wretched soul, that here carousing pleasure,  
Hath all his heaven on earth; and ne'er distressed  
Enjoys these fond delights without all measure,  
And freely living thus, is thus deceased!  
Ah greatest curse, so to be ever blessed!  
For where to live is heaven, 'tis hell to die.  
Ah wretch, that here begins hell's misery!   

Most bessed soul, that lifted up with wings  
Of faith and love, leaves this base habitation,  
And scorning sluggish earth, to heaven up springs;  
On earth, yet still in heaven by meditation;  
With the souls eye foreseeing th' heavenly station:  
Then begins his life, when he's of life bereaven.  
Ah blessed soul, that here begins his heaven!    

Upon the Contemplations of the B. of Excester, given to the Lady E. W. at New-year-tide.  

THis little world's two little stars are eyes;  
And he that all eyes framed, framed all others  
Downward to fall, but these to climb the skies,  
There to acquaint them with their starry brothers;  
Planets fixed in the head (their sphere of sense)  
Yet wand'ring still through heaven's circumference,  
The Intellect being their Intelligence.   

Dull then that heavy soul, which ever bend  
On earth and earthly toys, his heaven neglects;  
Content with that which cannot give content:  
What thy foot scorning kicks, thy soul respects.  
Fond soul! thy eye will up to heaven erect thee;  
Thou it directest, and must it now direct thee?  
Dull, heavy soul! thy scholar must correct thee.   

Thrice happy soul, that guided by thine eyes,  
Art mounted up unto that starry nation;  
And leaving there thy sense, interest the skies,  
Enshrined and sainted there by contemplation!  
Heaven thou enjoyest on earth, and now bereaven  
Of life, a new life to thy soul is given.  
Thrice happy soul, that hast a double heaven!   

That sacred hand, which to this year hath brought you  
Perfect your years, and with your years, his graces;  
And when his will unto his will hath wrought you,  
Conduct your soul unto those happy places,  
Where thousand joys, and pleasures ever new,  
And blessings thicker than the morning dew  
With endless sweets rain on that heavenly crew.    

These Asclepiads of Mr. H. S. translated and enlarged.  

Nè Verbum mihi sit mortua Litera,  
Nec Christi Meritum Gratia vanida;  
Sed Verbum fatuo sola Scientia,  
Et Christus misero sola Redemptio.   

Unlettered Word, which never ear could hear;  
Unwritten Word▪ which never eye could see,  
Yet syllabled in flesh-spelled character,  
That so to senses thou mightst subject be;  
Since thou in bread art stamped, in print art read,  
Let not thy print-stampt Word to me be dead.   

Thou all-contriving, all-deserving Spirit,  
Made flesh to die, that so thou mightst be mine,  
That thou in us, and we in thee might merit,  
We thine, thou ours; thou humane, we divine;  
Let not my dead life's merit, my dead heart  
Forfeit so dear a purchased deaths desert.   

Thou Sun of wisdom, knowledge infinite,  
Made folly to the wise, night to profane;  
Be I thy Moon, oh let thy sacred light  
Increase to th' full, and never, never wane:  
Wise folly set in me, fond wisdom rise,  
Make me renounce my wisdom, to be wise.   

Thou Life eternal, purest blessedness,  
Made mortal, wretched, sin itself for me;  
Show me my death, my sin, my wretchedness,  
That I may flourish, shine, and live in thee:  
So I with praise shall sing thy life, death's story,  
O thou my Merit, Life, my Wisdom, Glory.    

Certain of the royal Prophet's Psalms metaphrased.  
Psalm 42. which agrees with the tune of Like the Hermit poor.  

LOok as an hart with sweat and blood embrued,  
Chased and embossed, thirsts in the soil to be;  
So my poor soul with eager foes pursued,  
Looks, longs, O Lord, pines, pants, and faints for thee:  
When, O my God, when shall I come in place  
To see thy light, and view thy glorious face?   

I dine and sup with sighs, with groans and tears,  
While all thy foes mine ears with taunting load;  
Who now thy cries, who now thy prayer hears?  
Where is, say they, where is thy boasted God?  
My molten heart deep plunged in sad despairs  
Runs forth to thee in streams of tears and prayers.   

With grief I think on those sweet now past days,  
When to thy house my troops with joy I led:  
We sang, we danced, we chanted sacred lays;  
No men so haste to wine, no bride to bed.  
Why droop'st, my soul? why faintest thou in my breast?  
Wait still with praise; his presence is thy rest.   

My famished soul driven from thy sweetest word,  
(From Hermon hill, and Jordan's swelling brook)  
To thee laments, sighs deep to thee, O Lord,  
To thee sends back her hungry longing look:  
Floods of thy wrath breed floods of grief and fears;  
And floods of griefbreed floods of plaints and tears.   

His early light with morn these clouds shall clear,  
These dreary clouds, and storms of sad despairs:  
Sure am I in the night his songs to hear,  
Sweet songs of joy, as well as he my prayers.  
I'll say, My God, why slightest thou my distress,  
While all my foes my weary soul oppress?   

My cruel foes both thee and me upbraid;  
They cut my heart, they vaunt that bitter word,  
Where is thy trust? where is thy hope? they said;  
Where is thy God? where is thy boasted Lord?  
Why droop'st, my soul? why faintest thou in my breast?  
Wait still with praise; his presence is thy rest.    

Psal. 63. which may be sung, as The widow, or mock-widow.  

O Lord, before the morning  
Gives heaven warning  
To let out the day,  
My wakeful eyes  
Look for thy rise,  
And wait to let in thy joyful ray.  
Lank hunger here peoples the desert cells,  
Here thirst fills up the empty wells:  
How longs my flesh for that bread without leaven!  
How thirsts my soul for that wine of heaven!  
Such (oh!) to taste thy ravishing grace!  
Such in thy house to view thy glorious face!   

Thy love, thy light, thy faces  
Bright-shining graces,  
(Whose unchanged ray  
Knows nor morns dawn,  
Nor evenings wane)  
How far surmount they life's winter day!  
My heart to thy glory tunes all his strings;  
My tongue thy praises cheerly sings:  
And till I slumber, and death shall undress me,  
Thus will I sing, thus will I bless thee.  
Fill me with love, oh fill me with praise;  
So shall I vent due thanks in joyful lays.   

When night all eyes hath quenched,  
And thoughts lie drenched  
In silence and rest;  
Then will I all  
Thy ways recall,  
And look on thy light in darkness best.  
When my poor soul wounded had lost the field,  
Thou wast my fort, thou wast my shield.  
Safe in thy trenches I boldly will vaunt me,  
There will I sing, there will I chant thee;  
There I'll triumph in thy banner of grace,  
My conquering arms shall be thy arms embrace.   

My foes from deeps ascending,  
In rage transcending,  
Assaulting me sore,  
Into their hell  
Are headlong fell;  
There shall they lie, there howl, and roar:  
There let deserved torments their spirits tear;  
Feel they worst ills, and worse yet fear.  
But with his spouse thine anointed in pleasure  
Shall reign, and joy past time or measure:  
There new delights, new pleasures still spring:  
Haste there, oh haste, my soul, to dance and sing.    

PSAL. 127.  
To the tune of that Psalm.  

IF God build not the house, and lay  
The groundwork sure; who ever build,  
It cannot stand one stormy day:  
If God be not the city's shield,  
If he be not their bars and wall;  
In vain is watchtower, men, and all.   

Though then thou wakest when others rest,  
Though rising thou prevent'st the Sun;  
Though with lean care thou daily feast,  
Thy labour's lost, and thou undone:  
But God his child will feed and keep,  
And draw the curtains to his sleep.   

Though thoust a wife fir, young, and fair,  
An heritage heirs to advance;  
Yet canst thou not command an heir;  
For heirs are God's inheritance▪  
He gives the seed, the bud, the bloom;  
He gives the harvest to the womb.   

And look as arrows, by strong arm  
In a strong bow drawn to the head,  
Where they are meant, will surely harm,  
And if they hit, wound deep and dead;  
Children of youth are even so;  
As harmful, deadly, to a foe.   

That man shall live in bliss and peace,  
Who fills his quiver with such shot:  
Whose garners swell with such increase,  
Terror and shame assail him not;  
And though his foes deep hatred bear,  
Thus armed, he shall not need to fear.    

PSAL. 137. To be sung as, See the building.  

WHere Perah's flowers  
Perfume proud Babel's bowers,  
And paint her wall;  
There we laid asteeping  
Our eyes in endless weeping,  
For Zions fall.  
Our feasts and songs we laid aside;  
On forlorn willows  
(By Perah's billows)  
We hung our harps, and mirth and joy defied,  
That Zions ruins should build foul Babel's pride.   

Our conqueror's vaunting  
With bitter scoffs and taunting,  
Thus proudly jest;  
Take down your harps, and string them,  
Recall your songs, & sing them,  
For Zions feast.  
Were our harps well tuned in every string,  
Our heartstrings broken,  
Throats drowned, and soaken  
With tears and sighs, how can we praise and sing  
The King of heaven under an heathen king?   

In all my mourning,  
jerusalem, thy burning  
If I forget;  
Forget thy running,  
My hand, and all thy cunning  
To th' harp to set:  
Let thy mouth, my tongue, be still thy grave;  
Lie there asleeping,  
For Zion weeping:  
Oh let mine eyes in tears thy office have;  
Nor rise, nor set, but in their briny wave.   

Proud Edom's raging,  
Their hate with blood assuaging,  
And vengeful sword,  
Their cursed joying  
In Zions walls destroying  
Remember, Lord:  
Forget not, Lord, their spiteful cry,  
Fire and deface it,  
Destroy and raze it;  
Oh let the name of Zion ever die:  
Thus did they roar, and us and thee defy.   

So shall thy towers  
And all thy princely bowers,  
Proud Babel, fall:  
Him ever blessed,  
Who th' oppressor hath oppressed,  
Shall all men call:  
Thrice blessed, that turns thy mirth to groans;  
That burns to ashes  
Thy towers, and dashes  
Thy brats against rocks, to wash thy bloody stones  
With thine own blood, and pave thee with thy bones.    

PSAL. I.  

BLessed, who walkest not in the worldling's way;  
Blessed, who with foul sinners wilt not stand:  
Blessed, who with proud mockers dar'st not stay;  
Nor sit thee down amongst that scornful band.  
Thrice blessed man, who in that heavenly light  
Walkest, standest, and sittest, rejoicing day and night.   

Look as a thirsty Palm full jordan drinks,  
(Whose leaf and fruit still live, when winter dies)  
With conquering branches crowns the rivers brinks;  
And summers fires, and winter's frosts defies:  
All so the soul, whom that clear light revives,  
Still springs, buds, grows, and dying time survives.   

But as the dust of chaff, cast in the air,  
Sinks in the dirt, and turns to dung and mire;  
So sinners driven to hell by fierce despair,  
Shall fry in ice, and freeze in hellish fire:  
For he, whose flaming eyes all actions turn,  
Sees both; to light the one, the other burn.    

PSAL. 130.  

FRom the deeps of grief and fear,  
O Lord, to thee my soul repairs:  
From thy heaven bow down thine ear;  
Let thy mercy meet my prayers.  
Oh if thou mark'st  
what's done amiss,  
What soul so pure,  
can see thy bliss?   

But with thee sweet mercy stands,  
Sealing pardons, working fear:  
Wait my soul, wait on his hands;  
Wait mine eye, oh wait mine ear:  
If he his eye  
or tongue affords,  
Watch all his looks,  
catch all his words.   

As a watchman waits for day,  
And looks for light, and looks again;  
When the night grows old and grey,  
To be relieved he calls amain:  
So look, so wait,  
so long mine eyes,  
To see my Lord,  
my Sun, arise.   

Wait ye saints, wait on our Lord;  
For from his tongue sweet mercy flows:  
Wait on his cross, wait on his word;  
Upon that tree redemption grows:  
He will redeem  
his Israel  
From sin and wrath,  
from death and hell.    

AN HYMN.  

WAke, O my soul; awake, and raise  
Up every part to sing his praise,  
Who from his sphere of glory fell,  
To raise thee up from death and hell:  
See how his soul, vexed for thy sin,  
Weeps blood without, feels hell within:  
See where he hangs:  
hark how he cries:  
Oh bitter pangs!  
Now, now he dies.   

Wake, O mine eyes; awake, and view  
Those two twin-lights, whence heavens drew  
Their glorious beams, whose gracious sight  
Fills you with joy, with life, and light:  
See how with clouds of sorrow drowned,  
They wash with tears thy sinful wound:  
See how with streams  
of spit th' are drenched;  
See how their beams  
with death are quenched.   

Wake, O mine ear; awake, and hear  
That powerful voice, which stills thy fear,  
And brings from heaven those joyful news,  
Which heaven commands, which hell subdues▪  
Hark how his ears (heaven's mercy-seat)  
Foul slanders with reproaches beat:  
Hark how the knocks  
our ears resound;  
Hark how their mocks  
his hearing wound.   

Wake O my heart; tune every string:  
Wake O my tongue; awake, and sing:  
Think not a thought in all thy lays,  
Speak not a word, but of his praise:  
Tell how his sweetest tongue they drowned  
With gall; think how his heart they wound:  
That bloody spout  
gagged for thy sin,  
His life lets out,  
thy death lets in.    

AN HYMN.  
DRop, drop, slow tears,  
and bathe those beauteous feet,  
Which brought from heaven  
the news and Prince of peace:  
Cease not, wet eyes,  
his mercies to entreat;  
To cry for vengeance  
sin doth never cease:  
In your deep floods  
drown all my faults and fears;  
Nor let his eye  
see sin, but through my tears.   

On my friend's picture, who died in travel.  
THough now to heaven thy travels are confined,  
Thy wealth, friends, life, and country, all are lost;  
Yet in this picture we thee living find;  
And thou with lesser travel, lesser cost,  
Hast found new life, friends, wealth, and better coast:  
So by thy death thou liv'st, by loss thou gainest,  
And in thy absence present still remain'st.   

Upon Doctor Playser.  
WHo lives with death, by death in death is lying;  
But he who living dies, best lives by dying:  
Who life to truth, who death to error gives,  
In life may die, by death more surely lives.  
My soul in heaven breathes, in schools my fame:  
Then on my tomb write nothing but my name.   

Upon my brother's book called, The grounds, labour, and reward of faith.  

THis lamp filled up, and fired by that blessed Spirit,  
Spent his last oil in this pure heavenly flame;  
Laying the grounds, walls, roof of faith: this frame  
With life he ends; and now doth there inherit  
What here he built, crowned with his laurel merit:  
Whose palms and triumphs once he loudly rang,  
There now enjoys what here he sweetly sang.   

This is his monument, on which he drew  
His spirits image, that can never die;  
But breathes in these ' live words, and speaks to th' eye:  
In these his winding-sheets he dead doth show  
To buried souls the way to live anew,  
And in his grave more powerfully now preacheth.  
Who will not learn, when that a dead man teacheth?    

Upon Mr. Perkins his printed sermons.  
PErkins (our wonder) living, though long dead,  
In this white paper, as a winding-sheet,  
And in this velome lies enveloped:  
Yet still he lives, guiding the erring feet,  
Speaking now to our eyes, though buried.  
If once so well, much better now he teacheth.  
Who will not hear, when a live-dead man preacheth?   
FINIS.   

ELISA, OR AN ELEGY UPON THE UNRIPE DECEASE OF Sr. ANTONY IRBY:  
Composed at the request (and for a monument) of his surviving Lady.  
Anagramma Antonius Irbeus An virtus obiens?  
Esto mei mortisque memor.  
Funus virtuti foenus.  
Printed by the printers to the University of Cambridge. 1633.   

To the right worthy Knight, Sr. ANTONY IRBY.  
SIR, I am altogether (I think) unknown to you, (as having never seen you since your infancy) neither do I now desire to be known by this trifle. But I cannot rule these few lines composed presently after your father's decease; They are broken from me, and will see more light than they deserve. I wish there were any thing in them worthy of your vacant hours: Such as they are, yours they are by inheritance. As an Urn therefore of your father's ashes (I beseech you) receive them, for his sake, and from him, who desires in some better employment to be  
Your servant, P. F.   

ELISA.  

LOok as a stag, pierced with a fatal bow,  
(As by a wood he walks securely feeding)  
In coverts thick conceals his deadly blow,  
And feeling death swim in his endless bleeding,  
(His heavy head his fainting strength exceeding)  
Bids woods adieu, so sinks into his grave;  
Green brakes and primrose sweet his seemly hearse embrave:   

2  
So lay a gentle Knight now full of death,  
With cloudy eyes his latest hour expecting;  
And by his side, sucking his fleeting breath,  
His weeping Spouse Elisa; life neglecting,  
And all her beauteous fairs with grief infecting:  
Her cheek as pale as his; 't were hard to scan,  
If death or sorrows face did look more pale or won.   

3  
Close by, her sister, fair Alicia, sits;  
Fairest Alicia, to whose sweetest graces  
His tears and sighs a fellow passion fits:  
Upon her eye (his throne) Love sorrow places;  
There Comfort Sadness, Beauty Grief embraces:  
Pity might seem a while that face to borrow,  
And thither now was come to comfort death & sorrow.   

4  
At length loud Grief thus with a fearful shriek  
(His trumpet) sounds a battle, joy defying;  
Spreading his colours in Elisa's cheek,  
And from her eyes (his watchtower) far espying  
With Hope Delight, and Joy, and Comfort flying,  
Thus with her tongue their coward flight pursues,  
While sighs, shrieks, tears give chase with never fainting crues:   

5  
Thou traitor Joy, that in prosperity  
So loudly vauntest; whither, ah, whither fliest?  
And thou that bragg'st never from life to fly,  
False Hope, ah whither now so speedy highest?  
In vain thy winged feet so fast thou pliest:  
Hope, thou art dead, and Joy in Hope relying  
Bleeds in his hopeless wounds, and in his death lies dying.   

6  
But then Alicia (in whose cheerful eye  
Comfort with Grief, Hope with Compassion lived)  
Renews the fight; If Joy and Comfort die,  
The fault is yours: so much (too much) you grieved,  
That Hope could never hope to be relieved.  
If all your hopes to one poor hope you bind,  
No marvel if one fled, not one remains behind.   

7  
Fond hopes on life, so weak a thread, depending!  
Weak, as the thread such knots so weakly tying:  
But heavenly joys are circular, ne'er ending,  
Sure as the rock on which they grow; and lying  
In heaven, increase by loss, live best by dying.  
Then let your hope on those sure joys depend,  
Which live & grow by death, & waste not when they spend.   

8  
Then she; Great Lord, thy judgements righteous be,  
To make good ill, when to our ill we use it:  
Good leads us to the greatest good, to Thee;  
But we to other ends most fond abuse it;  
A common fault, yet cannot that excuse it:  
We love thy gifts, and take them gladly ever:  
We love them (ah too much!) more than we love the giver.   

9  
So falling low upon her humbled knees,  
And all her heart within her eye expressing;  
'Tis true, great Mercy, only miseries  
Teach us ourselves, and thee: oh, if confessing  
Our faults to thee be all our faults releasing,  
But in thine ear, I never sought to hide them:  
Ah! thou hast heard them oft, as oft as thou hast eyed them.   

10  
I know the heart knows more than tongue can tell;  
But thou perceivest the heart his foulness telling:  
Yet knows the heart not half, so wide an hell,  
Such seas of sin in such scant banks are swelling:  
Who sees all faults within his bosom dwelling?  
Many my tenants are, and I not know them.  
Most dangerous the wounds thou feelest, and canst not show them.   

11  
Some hidden fault, my Father, and my God,  
Some fault I know not yet, nor yet amended,  
Hath forced thee frown, and use thy smarting rod;  
Some grievous fault thee grievously offended:  
But let thy wrath, (ah!) let it now be ended.  
Father, this childish plea (if once I know it)  
Let stay thy threatening hand, I never more will do it.   

12  
If to my heart thou show this hidden sore,  
Spare me; no more, no more I will offend thee;  
I dare not say I will, I would no more:  
Say thou I shall, and soon I will amend me.  
Then smooth thy brow, and now some comfort lend me;  
Oh let thy softest mercies rest contented:  
Though late, I most repent, that I so late repent.   

13  
Lay down thy rod, and stay thy smarting hand;  
These raining eyes into thy bottle gather:  
Oh see thy bleeding Son betwixt us stand;  
Remember me a child, thyself a father:  
Or if thou mayst not stay, oh punish rather  
The part offending, this rebellious heart.  
Why pardon'st thou the worse, and plagu'st my better part?   

14  
Was't not thy hand, that tied the sacred knot?  
Was't not thy hand, that to my hand did give him?  
Hast thou not made us one? command'st thou not,  
None lose what thou hast bound? if than thou reave him,  
How without me by halves dost thou receive him!  
Tak'st thou the head, and leav'st the heart behind?  
Ay me! in me alone canst thou such monster find?   

15  
Oh why dost thou so strong me weak assail?  
Woman of all thy creatures is the weakest,  
And in her greatest strength did weakly fail:  
Thou who the weak and bruised never breakest,  
Who never triumph in the yielding seekest;  
Pity my weak estate, and leave me never:  
I ever yet was weak, and now more weak than ever.   

16  
With that her fainting spouse lifts up his head,  
And with some joy his inward griefs refraining,  
Thus with a feeble voice, yet cheerful, said;  
Spend not in tears this little time remaining;  
Thy grief doth add to mine, not ease my paining:  
My death is life; such is the scourge of God:  
Ah, if his rods be such, who would not kiss his rod?   

17  
My dear, (once all my joy, now all my care)  
To these my words (these my last words) apply thee:  
Give me thy hand; these my last greetings are:  
Show me thy face, I never more shall eye thee.  
Ah would our boys, our lesser selves, were by thee!  
Those my ' live pictures to the world I give:  
So single only die, in them twice-two I live.   

18  
Your little souls, your sweetest times enjoy,  
And softly spend among your mother's kisses;  
And with your pretty sports and hurtless joy  
Supply your weeping mothers grievous misses:  
Ah, while you may, enjoy your little blisses,  
While yet you nothing know: when back you view,  
Sweet will this knowledge seem, when yet you nothing knew.   

19  
For when to riper times your years arrive,  
No more (ah than no more) may you go play you:  
Launched in the deep far from the wished hive,  
Change of world's tépests through blind seas will sway you,  
Till to the long-longed haven they convey you:  
Through many a wave this brittle life must pass,  
And cut the churlish seas, shipped in a bark of glass.   

20  
How many ships in quicksands swallowed been!  
What gaping waves, whales, monsters there expect you!  
How many rocks, much sooner felt then seen!  
Yet let no fear, no coward fright affect you:  
He holds the stern, and he will safe direct you,  
Who to my sails thus long so gently blue,  
That now I touch the shore, before the seas I knew.   

21  
I touch the shore, and see my rest preparing.  
Oh blessed God how infinite a blessing  
Is in this thought, that through this troubled faring,  
Through all the faults this guilty age depressing  
I guiltless past, no helpless man oppressing;  
And coming now to thee, lift to the skies  
Unbribed hands, cleansed heart, and never tainted eyes!   

22  
Life, life! how many Sylla's dost thou hide  
In thy calm streams, which sooner kill then threaten!  
Gold, honour, greatness, and their daughter, pride!  
More quiet lives, and less with tempests beaten,  
Whose middle state content doth richly sweeten:  
He knows not strife, or brabbling lawyers brawls;  
His love and wish live pleased within his private walls.   

23  
The King he never sees, nor fears, nor prays;  
Nor sits court-promise and false hopes lamenting:  
Within that house he spends and ends his days,  
Where day he viewed first: his hearts contenting,  
His wife, and babes; nor sits new joys inventing:  
Unspotted there, and quiet he remains;  
And 'mong his duteous sons most loved and fearless reigns.   

24  
Thou God of peace, with what a gentle tide  
Through this world's raging tempest hast thou brought me!  
Thou, thou my open soul didst safely hide,  
When thousand crafty foes so nearly sought me;  
Else had the endless pit too quickly caught me;  
That endless pit, where it is easier never  
To fall, then being fallen to cease from falling ever.   

25  
I never knew or want or luxury,  
Much less their followers; or cares tormenting,  
Or ranging lust, or base-bred flattery:  
I loved, and was beloved with like consenting:  
My hate was hers, her joy my sole contenting:  
Thus long I lived, and yet have never proved  
Whether I loved her more, or more by her was loved.   

26  
Four babes (the fifth with thee I soon shall find)  
With equal grace in soul and body framed:  
And left these goods might swell my bladdered mind,  
(Which last I name, but should not last be named)  
A sickness long my stubborn heart hath tamed,  
And taught me pleasing goods are not the best;  
But most unblessed he lives, that lives here ever blessed.   

27  
Ah life, once virtue's spring, now sink of evil!  
Thou change of pleasing pain, and painful pleasure;  
Thou brittle painted bubble, shop o' th' devil;  
How dost thou bribe us with false gilded treasure,  
That in thy joys we find no mean or measure!  
How dost thou witch! I know thou dost deceive me:  
I know I should, I must, and yet I would not leave thee.   

28  
Ah death! once greatest ill, now only blessing,  
Untroubled sleep, short travel, ever resting,  
All sickness cure, thou end of all distressing,  
Thou one meals fast, usher to endless feasting;  
Though hopeless griefs cry out thy aid requesting,  
Though thou art sweetened by a life most hateful;  
How is't, that when thou comest, thy coming is ungrateful?   

29  
Frail flesh, why wouldst thou keep a hated guest,  
And him refuse whom thou hast oft invited?  
Life thy tormenter, death thy sleep and rest.  
And thou (poor soul) why at his sight art frighted,  
Who clears thine eyes, and makes thee eagle-sighted?  
Mount now my soul, & seat thee in thy throne:  
Thou shalt be one with him, by whom thou first waste one.   

30  
Why shouldst thou love this star, this borrowed light,  
And not that Sun, at which thou oft hast guessed,  
But guessed in vain? which dares thy piercing sight,  
Which never was, which cannot be expressed?  
Why lov'st thy load, & joy'st to be oppressed?  
Seest thou those joys? those thousand thousand graces?  
Mount now my soul, & leap to those outstretched embraces.   

31  
Dear country, I must leave thee; and in thee  
No benefit, which most doth pierce and grieve me:  
Yet had not hasty death prevented me,  
I would repay my life, and somewhat give thee:  
My sons for that I leave; and so I leave thee:  
Thus heaven commands; the lord outrides the page,  
And is arrived before: death hath prevented age.   

32  
My dearest Bettie, my more loved heart,  
I leave thee now; with thee all earthly joying:  
Heaven knows, with thee alone I sadly part:  
All other earthly sweets have had their cloying;  
Yet never full of thy sweet loves enjoying,  
Thy constant loves, next heaven I did refer them:  
Had not much grace prevailed, 'fore heaven I should prefer them.   

33  
I leave them, now the trumpet calls away;  
In vain thine eyes beg for some times reprieving;  
Yet in my children here immortal stay:  
In one I die, in many ones am living:  
In them, and for them stay thy too much grieving:  
Look but on them, in them thou still wilt see  
Married with thee again thy twice-two Antony.   

34  
And when with little hands they struck thy face,  
As in thy lap they sit (ah careless) playing,  
And stammering ask a kiss, give them a brace;  
The last from me: and then a little staying,  
And in their face some part of me survaying,  
In them give me a third, and with a tear  
Show thy dear love to him, who loved thee ever dear.   

35  
And now our falling house leans all on thee;  
This little nation to thy care commend them:  
In thee it lies that hence they want not me;  
Themselves yet cannot, thou the more defend them;  
And when green age permits, to goodness bend them:  
A mother were you once, now both you are:  
Then with this double style double your love and care.   

36  
Turn their unwary steps into the way:  
What first the vessel drinks, it long retaineth;  
No bars will hold, when they have used to stray:  
And when for me one asks, and weeping plaineth,  
Point thou to heaven, and say, he there remaineth:  
And if they live in grace, grow, and persever,  
There shall they live with me: else shall they see me never.   

37  
My God, oh in thy fear here let them live;  
Thy wards they are, take them to thy protection:  
Thou gav'st them first, now back to thee I give;  
Direct them thou, and help her weak direction;  
That reunited by thy strong election;  
Thou now in them, they then may live in thee,  
And seeing here thy will, may there thy glory see.   

38  
Bettie, let these last words long with thee dwell:  
If yet a second Hymen do expect thee,  
Though well he love thee, once I loved as well:  
Yet if his presence make thee less respect me,  
Ah do not in my children's good neglect me:  
Let me this faithful hope departing have;  
More easy shall I die, and sleep in careless grave.   

39  
Farewell, farewell; I feel my long long rest,  
And iron sleep my leaden heart oppressing:  
Night after day, sleep after labour's best;  
Port after storms, joy after long distressing:  
So weep thy loss, as knowing 'tis my blessing:  
Both as a widow and a Christian grieve:  
Still live I in thy thoughts, but as in heaven I live.   

40  
Death, end of old joys, entrance into new,  
I follow thee, I know I am thy debtor;  
Not unexpect thou comest to claim thy due:  
Take here thine own, my souls too heavy fetter;  
Not life, life's place I change, but for a better:  
Take thou my soul, that boughtst it: cease your tears:  
Who sighing leaves the earth, himself and heaven fears.   

41  
Thus said, and while the body slumbering lay,  
(As Theseus Ariadne's bed forsaking)  
His quiet soul stole from her house of clay;  
And glorious Angels on their wings it taking,  
Swifter than lightning flew, for heaven making:  
There happy goes he, heavenly fires admiring,  
Whose motion is their bait; whose rest is restless giring:   

42  
And now the courts of that thrice blessed King  
It enters, and his presence sits enjoying;  
While in itself it finds an endless spring  
Of pleasures new, and never weary joying,  
ne'er spent in spending; feeding, never cloying:  
Weak pen to write! for thought can never feign them:  
The mind that all can hold, yet cannot half contain them.   

43  
There doth it blessed sit, and looking down,  
Laughs at our busy care, and idle paining;  
And fitting to itself that glorious crown,  
Scorns earth; where even Kings most serve by reigning;  
Where men get wealth, and hell; so loose by gaining.  
Ah blessed soul! there sit thou still delighted,  
Till we at length to him with thee shall be united.   

44  
But when at last his Lady sad espies  
His flesh of life, herself of him deprived;  
Too full of grief, closing his quenched eyes,  
As if in him, by him, for him she lived,  
Fell dead with him; and once again revived,  
Fell once again: pain weary of his paining,  
And grief with too much grief felt now no grief remaining.   

45  
Again relieved, all silent sat she long;  
No word to name such grief durst first adventure:  
Grief is but light that floats upon the tongue,  
But weighty sorrow presses to the centre,  
And never rests till th' heavy heart it enter;  
And in life's house was married to life:  
Grief made life grievous seem, and life enlivens grief:   

46  
And from their bed proceeds a numerous press,  
First shrieks, than tears & sighs the heart's ground renting:  
In vain poor Muse wouldst thou such dole express;  
For thou thyself lamenting her lamenting,  
And with like grief transformed to like tormenting,  
With heavy pace bring'st forth thy lagging verse,  
Which clothed with blackest lines attends the mournful hearse.   

47  
The cunning hand which that Greek Princess drew  
Ready in holy fires to be consumed,  
Pity and sorrow paints in diverse hue;  
One wept, he prayed, this sighed, that chafed and fumed;  
But not to limb her fathers look presumed:  
For well he knew his skilful hand had failed:  
Best was his sorrow seen, when with a cloth 't was veiled.   

48  
Look as a nightingale, whose callow young  
Some boy hath marked, and now half naked hath taken,  
Which long she closely kept, and fostered long,  
But all in vain; she now poor bird forsaken  
Flies up and down, but grief no place can slaken:  
All day, and night her loss she fresh doth rue,  
And where she ends her plaints, there soon begins anew:   

49  
Thus sat she desolate, so short a good,  
Such gift so soon exacted sore complaining:  
Sleep could not pass, but almost sunk i'th' flood;  
So high her eye-banks swelled with endless raining:  
Surfeit of grief had bred all meats disdaining:  
A thousand times my Antony, she cried,  
Irby a thousand times; and in that name she died.   

50  
Thus circling in her grief it never ends,  
But moving round back to itself inclineth;  
Both day and night alike in grief she spends:  
Day shows her day is gone, no sun there shineth:  
Black night her fellow mourner she defineth:  
Light shows his want, and shades his picture draw:  
Him (nothing) best she sees, when nothing now she saw.   

THou blacker Muse, whose rude uncombed hairs  
With fatal yew and cypress still are shaded;  
Bring hither all thy sighs, hither thy tears:  
As sweet a plant, as fair a flower is faded,  
As ever in the Muse's garden bladed;  
While th'owner (hapless owner) sits lamenting,  
And but in discontent & grief, finds no contenting.   

2  
The sweet (now sad) Elisa weeping lies,  
While fair Alicia's words in vain relieve her;  
In vain those wells of grief she often dries:  
What her so long, now doubled sorrows give her,  
What both their loves (which doubly double grieve her)  
She careless spends without or end or measure;  
Yet as it spends, it grows: poor grief can tell his treasure.   

3  
All as a turtle on a bared bough  
(A widow turtle) joy and life despises,  
Whose trusty mate (to pay his holy vow)  
Some watchful eye late in his roost surprises,  
And to his God for error sacrifices;  
She joyless bird sits mourning all alone,  
And being one when two, would now be two, or none:   

4  
So sat she gentle Lady weeping sore,  
Her desert self and now cold lord lamenting;  
So sat she careless on the dusty floor,  
As if her tears were all her souls contenting:  
So sat she, as when speechless griefs tormenting  
Locks up the heart, the captive tongue enchaining:  
So sat she joyless down in wordless grief complaining.   

5  
Her cheerful eye (which once the crystal was,  
Where Love and Beauty dressed their fairest faces,  
And fairer seemed by looking in that glass)  
Had now in tears drowned all their former graces:  
Her snow-white arms, whose warm & sweet embraces  
Could quicken death, their now dead lord enfold,  
And seemed as cold and dead as was the flesh they hold.   

6  
The roses in her cheek grow pale and wan;  
As if his pale cheeks livery they affected:  
Her head, like fainting flowers oppressed with rain,  
On her left shoulder leaned his weight neglected:  
Her dark-gold locks hung loosely unrespected;  
As if those fairs, which he alone deserved,  
With him had lost their use, and now for nothing served.   

7  
Her Lady sister sat close by her side,  
Alicia, in whose face Love proudly lorded;  
Where Beauty's self and Mildness sweet reside,  
Where every Grace her naked sight afforded,  
And Majesty with Love sat well accorded:  
A little map of heaven, sweet influence giving;  
More perfect yet in this, it was a heaven living.   

8  
Yet now this heaven with melting clouds was stained:  
Her starry eyes with sister grief infected  
Might seem the Pleyades, so fast they reigned:  
And though her tongue to comfort she directed,  
Sighs waiting on each word like grief detected;  
That in her face you now might plainly see  
Sorrow to sit for Love, Pity for Majesty.   

9  
At length when now those storms she had allayed,  
A league with grief for some short time indenting;  
She began to speak, and sister only said:  
The sad Elisa soon her words preventing,   El. 
In vain you think to ease my hearts tormenting;  
Words, comforts, hope, all medicine is in vain:  
My heart most hates his cure, & loves his pleasing pain.  Al. 

10  
As vain to weep, since fate cannot reprieve.   El. 
Tears are most due, when there is no reprieving.  Al. 
When doom is past, weak hearts that fond grieve.  El. 
A helpless griefs sole joy is joyless grieving.  Al. 
To losses old new loss is no relieving:  
You lose your tears.  El. 
When that I only fear  
For ever now is lost, poor loss to lose a tear.  Al. 

11  
Nature can teach, that who is born must die.   El. 
And Nature teaches tears in griefs tormenting.  Al. 
Passions are slaves to Reason's monarchy.  El. 
Reason best shows her reason in lamenting.  Al. 
Religion blames impatient discontenting.  El. 
Not passion, but excess Religion branded;  
Nor ever countermands what Natures self commanded  Al. 

12  
That hand which gave him first into your hand,  
To his own hand doth now again receive him:  
Impious and fond, to grudge at his command,  
Who once by death from death doth ever reave him!  
He lives by leaving life, which soon would leave him:  
Thus God and him you wrong by too much crying.  
Who living died to life, much better lives by dying.   El. 

13  
Not him I plain; ill would it fit our loves,  
In his best state to show my hearts repining;  
To mourn at others good, fond envy proves:  
I know his soul is now more brightly shining  
Then all the stars their light in one combining:  
No, dearest soul; (so lifting up her eyes,  
Which showed like watery suns quenched in the moister skies)   

14  
My dear, my dearest Irby, (at that name,  
As at a well-known watchword, forth there pressed  
Whole floods of tears, and strait a sudden quame  
Seizing her heart, her tongue with weight oppressed,  
And locked her grief within her soul distressed;  
There all in vain he close and hidden lies:  
Silence is sorrows speech; his tongue speaks in her eyes:   

15  
Till grief new mounted on uneven wings  
Of loud-breathed sighs, his leaden weight up sending,  
Back to the tongue his heavy presence brings,  
His usher tears, deep groans behind attending,  
And in his name her breath most gladly spending,  
As if he gone, his name were all her joying)  
Irby, I never grudged thee heaven, and heavens enjoying.   

16  
'Tis not thy happiness that breeds my smart,  
It is my loss, and cause that made me lose thee;  
Which hatching first this tempest in my heart,  
Thus justly rages; he that lately chose thee  
To live with him, where thou mightst safe repose thee,  
Hath found some cause out of my little caring,  
By spoiling thine to spare, and spoil my life by sparing.   

17  
Whither, ah whither shall I turn my head,  
Since thou my God so sore my heart hast beaten?  
Thy rods yet with my blood are warm and red:  
Thy scourge my soul hath drunk, my flesh hath eaten.  
Who helps, when thou my Father so dost threaten?  
Thou hidest thy eyes; or if thou dost not hide them,  
So dost thou frown, that best I hidden may abide them.   

18  
I weeping grant, what ever may be dreaded,  
All ill thou canst inflict, I have deserved;  
Thy mercy I, I mercy only pleaded.  
Most wretched men, if all that from thee swerved,  
By merit only in just weight were served!  
If nought thou giv'st, but what desert doth get me,  
Oh give me nothing then; for nothing I entreat thee.   

19  
Ah wherefore are thy mercies infinite,  
If thou dost hoard them up, and never spend them?  
Mercy's no mercy hid in envious night:  
The rich man's goods, while in his chest he penned them,  
Were then no goods; much better to misspend them.  
Why mak'st thou such a rod? so fierce dost threat me?  
Thy frowns to me were rods; thy forehead would have beat me.   

20  
Thou seized my joy; ah he is dead and gone,  
That might have dressed my wounds, when thus they smarted:  
To all my griefs I now am left alone;  
Comfort's in vain to hopeless grief imparted:  
Hope, comfort, joy with him are all departed.  
Comfort, hope, joy, life's flatterers, most I fly you,  
And would not deign to name, but naming to defy you.   Al. 

21  
Sister, too far your passions violent heat  
And griefs too headlong in your plaint convey you:  
You feel your stripes, but mark not who does beat;  
'Tis he that takes away, who can repay you:  
This grief to other rods doth open lay you:  
He binds your grief to patience, not dejection.  
Who bears the first not well, provokes a new correction.   El. 

22  
I know 'tis true; but sorrows blubbered eye  
Fain would not see, and cannot well behold it:  
My heart surround with grief is swollen so high,  
It will not sink, till I alone unfold it;  
But grows more strong, the more you do withhold it:  
Leave me a while alone; griefs tide grows low,  
And ebbs, when private tears the eye-banks overflow.   

23  
She quickly rose, and ready now to go,  
Remember measure in your griefs complaining;  
His last, his dying words command you so:  
So left her; and Elisa sole remaining,  
Now every grief more boldly entertaining,  
They flock about her round; so one was gone,  
And twenty fresh arrived. ' Loan grief is least alone.   

24  
Thus as she sat with fixed and settled eye,  
Thousand fond thoughts their wand'ring shapes depainted:  
Now seemed she mounted to the crystal sky,  
And one with him, and with him fellow-sainted;  
Strait pulled from heaven: & then again she fainted:  
Thus while their numerous thoughts each fancy brought,  
The mind all idle sat: much thinking lost her thought.   

25  
And fancy, finding now the dulled sight  
Idle with business, to her soul presented  
(While th' heavy mind obscured his shaded light)  
Her woeful body from her head absented;  
And sudden starting, with that thought tormented,  
A thing impossible too true she found:  
The head was gone, and yet the headless body sound.   

26  
Nor yet awake she cries; ah this is wrong,  
To part what Nature's hand so near hath tied;  
Stay oh my head, and take thy trunk along:  
But then her mind (recalled) her error spied;  
And sighed to see how true the fancy lied,  
Which made the eye his instrument to see  
That true, which being true itself must nothing be.   

27  
Vile trunk (says she) thy head is ever gone;  
Vile headless trunk, why art thou not engraved?  
One wast thou once with him, now art thou none;  
Or if thou art, or wert, how art thou saved?  
And livest still, when he to death is slaved?  
But (ah) when well I think, I plainly see,  
That death to him was life, and life is death to me.   

28  
Vile trunk, if yet he live; ah then again  
Why seekest thou not with him to be combined?  
But oh since he in heaven doth living reign,  
Death were't to him in such knots to be twined;  
And life to me with him to be confined:  
So while I better think, I easily see  
My life to him were death, his death were life to me.   

29  
Then die with him, vile trunk, and dying live;  
Or rather with him live, his life applying;  
Where thou shalt never die, nor ever grieve:  
But ah, though death thou feelest within thee lying,  
Thou ne'er art dead, though still in sorrow dying:  
Most wretched soul, which hast thy seat and being,  
Where life with death is one, & death with life agreeing!   

30  
He lives and joys; death life to him hath bred:  
Why is he living then in earth enwombed?  
But I, a walking coarse, in life am dead:  
'Tis I, my friends, 'tis I must be entombed;  
Whose joy with grief, whose life with death's benumbed:  
Thou coffin art not his, nor he is thine;  
Mine art thou: thou the dead, & not the livings shrine.   

31  
You few thin boards, how in so scanted room  
So quiet such great enemies contain ye?  
All joy, all grief lies in this narrow tomb:  
You contraries, how thus in peace remain ye,  
That one small cabin so should entertain ye?  
But joy is dead, and here entombed doth lie,  
While grief is come to moan his dead-loved enemy.   

32  
How many virtues in this little space  
(This little little space) lie buried ever!  
In him they lived, and with them every grace:  
In him they lived, and died, and rise will never.  
Fond men! go now, in virtue's steps persever;  
Go sweat, and toil; thus you inglorious lie:  
In this old frozen age virtue itself can die.   

33  
Those petty Northern stars do never fall;  
The unwashed Bear the Ocean wave despises;  
Ever unmoved it moves, and ever shall:  
The Sun, which oft his head in night disguises,  
So often as he falls, so often rises;  
And stealing backward by some hidden way,  
With self same light begins and ends the year & day.   

34  
The flowers, which in the absence of the Sun  
Sleep in their winter-houses all disarmed,  
And backward to their mother's womb do run;  
Soon as the earth by Taurus' horns is warmed,  
Muster their coloured troops; and freshly armed,  
Spreading their braving colours to the sky,  
Winter and winter's spite, bold little elves, defy.   

35  
But Virtues heavenly and more glorious light,  
Though seeming ever sure, yet oft dismounteth;  
And sinking low, sleeps in eternal night,  
Nor ever more his broken sphere remounteth:  
Her sweetest flower, which other flowers surmounteth  
As far as roses nettles, soon fadeth:  
Down falls her glorious leaf, & never more it bladeth.   

36  
And as that dainty flower, the maiden roof,  
Her swelling bosom to the Sun discloses;  
Soon as her lover hot and fiery grows,  
Strait all her sweets unto his heat exposes,  
Then soon disrobed her sweet and beauty loses;  
While hurtful weeds, hemlocks, & nettles stinking  
Soon from the earth ascend, late to their graves are sinking.   

37  
All so the virtuous bud in blooming falls,  
While vice long flourishing late sees her ending:  
Virtue once dead no gentle spring recalls;  
But vice springs of itself; and soon ascending,  
Long views the day, late to his night descending.  
Vain men, that in this life set up your rest,  
Which to the ill is long, and short unto the best!   

38  
And as a dream, where th'idle fancy plays,  
One thinks that fortune high his head advances;  
Another spends in woe his weary days;  
A third seems sport in love, and courtly dances;  
A fourth to find some glittering treasure chances;  
Soon as they wake, they see their thoughts were vain,  
And either quite forget, or laugh their idle brain:   

39  
Such is the world, and such life's quick-spent play:  
This base, and scorned; that great, in high esteeming;  
This poor, and patched seems; that rich, and gay;  
This sick, that sound; yet all is but a seeming:  
So like that waking oft we fear weare dreaming;  
And think we wake oft, when we dreaming play.  
Dreams are as living nights; life as a dreaming day.   

40  
Go then, vain life; for I will trust no more  
Thy flattering dreams: death, to thy resting take me:  
Thou sleep without all dreams, life's quiet shore,  
When wilt thou come? when wilt thou overtake me?  
Enough I now have lived; loathed life forsake me:  
Thou good men's endless fight, thou ill men's feast;  
That at the best art bad, and worst art to the best.   

41  
Thus as in tears she drowns her swollen eyes,  
A sudden noise recalls them; backward bending  
Her weary head, there all in black she spies  
Six mournful bearers, the sad hearse attending,  
Their feet and hands to that last duty lending:  
All silent stood she, trembling, pale, and wan;  
The first grief left his stage, a new his part began.   

42  
And now the coffin in their arms they take,  
While she with weight of grief sat still amazed;  
As do sear leaves in March, so did she quake,  
And with intended eyes upon them gazed:  
But when from ground the doleful hearse they raised,  
Down on the beer half dead she careless fell;  
While tears did talk apace, and sighs her sorrows tell.   

43  
At last, Fond men (said she) you are deceived;  
It is not he, 'tis I must be interred:  
Not he, but I of life and soul bereaved;  
He lives in heaven, among the saints referred:  
This trunk, this headless body must be buried.  
But while by force some hold her, up they rear him,  
And weeping at her tears, away they softly bear him.   

44  
But then impatient grief all passion proves,  
She prays & weeps; with tears she doth entreat them:  
But when this only fellow passion moves,  
She storms and raves, and now as fast doth threat them;  
And as she only could, with words doth beat them;  
Ah cruel men, ah men most cruel, stay:  
It is my heart, my life, my soul, you bear away.   

45  
And now no sooner was he out of sight,  
As if she would make good what she had spoken,  
First from her hearts deep centre deep she sighed;  
Then, (as if heart, and life, and soul were broken)  
Down dead she fell; and once again awoken,  
Fell once again; so to her bed they bore her:  
While friends (no friends) hard love to life and grief restore her.   

46  
Unfriendly friends, (saith she) why do ye strive  
To bar wished death from his so just ingression?  
Your pity kills me; 'tis my death to live,  
And life to die: it is as great oppression  
To force out death, as life from due possession;  
'Tis much more great: better that quickly spills  
A loathed life, than he that with long torture kills.   

47  
And then, as if her guiltless bed offended;  
Thou traitorous bed, when first thou didst receive me,  
Not single to thy rest I then ascended:  
Double I came, why should I single leave thee?  
Why of my better part dost thou bereave me?  
Two pressed thee first: why should but one depart?  
Restore, thou traitorous bed, restore that better part.   

48  
Thus while one grief another's place inherits,  
And one yet hardly spent, a new complained:  
Griefs leaden vapour dulls the heavy spirits,  
And sleep too long from so wished seat restrained,  
Now of her eyes un'wares possession gained;  
And that she might him better welcome give,  
Her lord he new presents, and makes him fresh to live.   

49  
She thinks he lives, and with her goes along;  
And oft she kissed his cheek, and oft embraced;  
And sweetly asked him where he stayed so long,  
While he again her in his arms enlaced;  
Till strong delight her dream and joy defaced:  
But then she willing sleeps; sleep glad receives her;  
And she as glad of sleep, that with such shapes deceives her.   

50  
Sleep widowed eyes, and cease so fierce lamenting;  
Sleep grieved heart, and now a little rest thee:  
Sleep sighing words, stop all your discontenting;  
Sleep beaten breast; no blows shall now molest thee:  
Sleep happy lips; in mutual kisses nest ye:  
Sleep weary Muse, and do not now disease her:  
Fancy, do thou with dreams and his sweet presence please her.   
FINIS.   

¶ To my dear friend, the SPENCER of this age.  
Dear friend,  

NO more a Stranger now: I lately past  
Thy curious Building; called; but then my haste  
Denied me a full draught; I did but taste.   

Thy Wine was rich and pleasing; did appear  
No common grape: My haste could not forbear  
A second sip; I hung a Garland there:   

Past on my way; I lashed through thick and thin,  
Dispatched my business, and returned again;  
I called the second time; unhorsed, went in:   

Viewed every Room; each Room was beautified  
With new Invention, carved on every side,  
To please the common and the curious eyed:   

Viewed every Office; every Office lay  
Like a rich Magazine; & did bewray  
‛ Thy Treasure, oped with thy golden key:   

Viewed every Orchyard; every Orchyard did  
Appear a Paradise, whose fruits were hid  
(Perchance) with shadowing Leaves, but none forbid.   

Viewed every Plot; spent some delightful hours  
In every Garden, full of newborn flowers,  
Delicious banks, and delectable bowers.   

Thus having stepped and travelled every stair  
Within, and tasted every fruit that's rare  
Without; I made thy house my thoroughfare.   

Then give me leave, rare Fletcher, (as before  
I left a Garland at thy Gates) once more  
To hang this Ivy at thy Postern-doore.   
FRANCIS QUARLES.  
FINIS.