CERTAIN SELECTED ODES OF HORACE, ENGLISHed; and their Arguments annexed.  
With Poems (Ancient and Modern) of diverse Subjects, Translated.  
Whereunto are added, both in Latin and English, sundry new  

EPIGRAMS.  
ANAGRAMMS.  
EPITAPHS.    printer's device? (not indexed in McKerrow) or decoration 
LONDON, Printed by H. L. for Richard Moor; and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint Dunstan's Churchyard, in Fleetstreet. 1621.   

 Rectangular illustration with center circle containing a wheat sheaf supported by two animals, around which are the words: "Cor unum via una" (description from EEBO catalogue record of Tract Supplement/E4: 1 [52a] which consists entirely of this same device)  
RVERENDISSIMO IN CHRISTO PATRI ET DOMINO, D. TOBIAE, Archiepiscopo Eboracensi, Angl. Primati & Metropolitano dignissimo.  
ANAGR. 


Tωbias' MATHEUS.  
I HOMO SAT BEATUS.     

EPIGR. de Eodem.  
Ipse beatus homo es, coelestia dona beatum  
Si faciant. I: SAT nempe BEATVS HOMO es.   
Aliud. 


Tωbias' MATHEIUS.  
JEHOVA SIT THERE SABOT.     

Epigram.  
Tranquillâ pacis mea mens sic sede locata,  
MI terrae saturo, SIT que JEHOVA SABOT.   

Angl.  
My Soul, SIT in the seat of Safety, blest:  
JEHOVA is MI SABOT, my sweet Rest.   

Ad Eundem.  
SI tibi (cui reserant sacrae sua claustra Camoenae,  
Cuius & à labijs Attica mella fluunt)  
Haec non displiceant Venusini carmina vatis,  
Strididulae (ut potui) mî modulata lyrae,  
Sed vultus crepta tui splendore tenebris,  
Incipiant coelo liberiore frui;  
Non ronchos metuam, non vani scommata vulgi,  
Censores tetricos, grammaticásve Tribus.  
Solus eris contra haec Aiacis spicula scutum;  
Dulce & praesidium Tu mihi solus eris.   

Angl.  
IF Thee, the Muse's sacred Rites that knows,  
And from whose Lips pure Attic Honey flows,  
These Lyric Poet's Songs do not displease,  
Tuned (as I could) to my Pipe's homely Lays,  
But (doomed to darkness) by thy graceful Sight  
Be brought abroad, to see the gladsome Light;  
No gleering Scorns I'll fear, nor spiteful Gibes,  
Nor crabbed Critics, nor Grammarian Tribes.  
Thou, thou alone, 'gainst all these Darts shalt be  
An Aiax-Shield, and sweet Defence to me.   
Amplitudini tuae, omni observantiâ devotus, IOH: ASHMORE.   

To my Friend, the Author.  

TO praise Thee, is a Labour to no end;  
Since those, that read Thee, cannot but Commend.  
Let Envy read, and Envy will become  
A Convert; or, at least, she will be dumb.   
G. S.   

Ad Amicum suum, joh. Ashmore.  

LAus in laudato, non in laudante, Poëta est:  
Laus meritum sequitur, corpus ut umbra suum.  
Extollam licèt ergo tuos ad sydera Versus  
Laudibus, extollent te tua Metra magis.   
joh. Owen.   

In harum Eligantiss. Odarum Translationem, Hexastichon.  

EN, Flaccus rediviws adest; nimiumque negatâ  
Anglica dulce melos protulit arte lyra.  
Flaccus adest: Eadem mens est, & carminis idem  
Sensus: forma eadem est, ingenij que genus.  
Flaccus eris totus, si qui aspiraverit orsis  
Sit tibi Maecenas (docte Poëta) tuis.   
Samuel Pullein.   

To the ingenious Author.  

Much have I read: but, never could I find  
A Poem that so well did please my Mind,  
As thy sweet Numbers. It is hard to tell,  
The Matter, or the Manner, which excel.  
This Work of Thine, with such Perfection framed,  
So Scholarlike, may Others make ashamed  
(When they reflect upon thy Strains their sight)  
To publish their Composures to the Light.  
Let no brow-bended envious Carper say,  
That my Affection made my judgement stray.  
Such Stateliness doth in thy Poems dwell,  
That what thou writ'st but few can Parallel.   
Thomas Cordin.   

Graced by the Muses, Poet most expert,  

My Praises cannot equal thy Desert.  
My ravished Soul thy rare Strains doth admire,  
And thy sweet Muses high aspiring fire.  
Come Poets; and his temples Crown with Bays:  
Not many have, or can write better Lays.   
R. I.   

CERTAIN SELECTED ODES OF HORACE TRANSLATED.  

Ad Mecaenatem. Lib. 1. Ode prima.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
That many a way, most men assay  
Their heads up high to raise:  
Which he neglects, and most affects  
A Lyric Poet's praise.   

The English answereth the Latin, in Lines and syllables.  
Maecenas, of the race of Kings thy grandsires, bred,  
O thou my chief support, & garland of my head;  
Some with Olympian dust besmeared delight to ride  
In Chariots, and the burning wheels with skill to guide  
Fast by the mark, whom victory and palms of praise,  
With shouts unto the gods, Lords of the earth, doth raise.  
This man's puffed up, if fickle Romans do agree  
To rear him up with styles of three fold dignity.  
If he in Garners safely have laid up in store  
His corn from Africa brought, he careth for no more.  
He that in peace at home delights his Land to till,  
On no condition unto him proposed, will  
Turn Mariner, and fearful with a Cyprian plank  
Cut out a way through hills and dales of billows rank.  
The Merchant, fearing winds that in th' Icarian Seas  
Do wrestle in great rage, the country life doth praise,  
And their town fields: Then strait his shake-ship doth repair,  
Untaught the scornful wrongs of poverty to bear.  
In froathing boawles of generous wine he healths doth drink,  
And busies not his brain, of State affairs to think;  
But careless under th' Arbute shade sometime he lies,  
Sometime by th' holy well where bubbling waters rise.  
In camps entrenched▪ & trumpets sound some men delight,  
And in stiff shocks of bloody wars that matrons fright.  
The huntsman stays i'th' cold with hazard of his life,  
Unmindful how he left his young and tender wife;  
Whether his trusty Dogs pursue the fleeing Deer,  
Or the revengeful Boars the toils asunder tear.  
The Ivy wreathes, rewards that learned foreheads get,  
Me canonised among the highest gods will set.  
The pleasant groves, the lightfoot Nymphs, and Satyrs dance,  
Shall me above the vulgar sort of men advance,  
If Euterpe my pipes stop not, nor the sweet Muse  
Polymnia my Lesbian Harp to tune refuse.  
But if that thou among the Lyric Poets place me,  
Not heaven itself can then with more contentment grace me.    

Ad Licinium. Lib. 2. Ode 10.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
Those that desire soon to aspire  
To happiness of life,  
By th' golden means, the same must gain,  
Which most is freed from strife.   

THou shalt Licinius better live, if still  
Thy Bark thou do not force into the Deep;  
Or, ore-much fearing lest rough winds should fill  
Thy sails, too near the crooked shore do creep.   

He that regards and love's the golden means,  
Is not with smoke of his poor house blear-eyed:  
And, well advised, he blends not with the train  
Of mighty Princes that are most envied.   

Oft-times, the winds do toss the Cedars tall:  
And stately Towers upreard into the air,  
With greater danger to the earth do fall:  
And thunderbolts the highest hills do tear.   

In all distress, a well instructed mind  
Hope entertains: And fears, when fortune smiles,  
That suddenly she'll turn and prove unkind.  
jove black faced winters brings and them exiles.   

If now wished-for success do thee refuse,  
Think not that still it will continue so:  
Sometime Apollo's Harp the drooping Muse  
Strikes up; Nor bends he still his angry bow.   

If clouds of hard mishap o'ercast thy day,  
With beams of thy great courage them expel:  
And when thy Ship doth dance upon the Sea,  
Led down the sails with too proud winds that swell.    

Ad Lydiam. Lib. 1. Ode 13.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
It much him moves, that Lydia love's  
His Rival: And their life  
He doth commend, whose love toth' end  
Continueth without strife.   

WHen Lydia thou of Telephus dost tell,  
His rosy neck and pliant arms dost praise,  
My liver then (alas!) gins to swell,  
Enraged with wrath which nothing can appease.   

My colour, changing oft, doth plainly show  
How my perplexed mind is plunged in woe:  
And tears, by stealth from watery eyes that flow,  
Can nothing quench love's fire that still doth grow.   

I vexed am, whether iarre-breeding wine  
Caused roaring Boys to wrong thy shoulders fair;  
Or the Lust-raging Lad, those lips of thine  
The wanton mark caused of his tooth to bear.   

Believe me, he will never constant prove,  
That rudely wrongs sweet kisses in such sort;  
Those kisses, which the Goddess fair of love  
Graceth with the fift part of her best sport.   

Thrice happy, and more happy, are they sure,  
Whose mutual love so banisheth all strife,  
That pure and constant it doth still endure  
Till Fates cut off their well-spun thread of life.    

Ad Grosphum. Lib. 2. Ode 16.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
No outward thing thee well can bring  
Unto a quiet mind.  
Within it is, that brings this bliss:  
There help we best may find.   

THe Merchant toiled in the Egëan Sea,  
When Phoebe's face is veiled with a dark cloud,  
And the known stars from sight are fled away,  
For ease unto the gods doth cry aloud.   

For Ease, the Thracians (terrible in war)  
For Ease, the Medes (with comely quivers bold)  
O Grosphus, to the gods still suitors are,  
Bought with no gems, with purple, or with gold.   

No treasure, neither Sergeant can arrest  
The wretched hurly-burlies of the mind,  
And cares with rest-less wings that beat the breast,  
And in faire-fretted roofs still harbour find.   

He lives well with a little, that doth keep  
His late Sires table furnished with mean fare;  
That is not robbed of rest, nor scared from sleep  
With hidebound Avarice, or heart-scorching Care.   

Why do we, short-lived things, on tentars set  
Our greedy thoughts with vain desire of pelf?  
In climates furthest off, What would we get?  
Who, from his Country exiled, flees from himself?   

Care, vice-borne, climbs into the brass-stemd ships:  
In warlike troops herself she slily shrowds:  
Swifter than Stags, swifter than winds she skips,  
That do disperse, and drive away the clouds.   

Be jovial while time serves (Time will not stay.)  
Hate curiously t' inquire what will betide:  
Sour discontentments with sweet mirth allay.  
Entirely good, nothing doth still abide.   

Untimely death did stout Achilles slay:  
Old age Tithonus did Epitomise:  
And my birth-star perhaps grants me a day  
To date my life; which thine to thee denies.   

Fair flocks of sheep, fat herds of cattles low  
About thee, and thy lustful Mare with pride  
Neighs out, now for the Chariot fit: and thou  
Wear'st purple, twice in Tyrian liquors died.   

The Dest'nie, ne'er deceived, on me bestows  
A little ground, and vein of Poesy  
Which from the pleasant Greekish fountains flows,  
And th' un-taught Vulgar wils me to defy.    

In ambitiosum quendam & avarun. Li. 2. Od. 18  

THE ARGUMENT.  
That he's content with his small rent;  
When richer still do crave,  
And for more look by hook or crook  
Though one foot in the grave.   

NO Ivory ceiling, nor roof adorned  
With light-out-streaming gold, in my house shineth:  
No beams from Hymet press pillars form  
Where the sky-touching hill Africa confineth.  
No wealth by ill means do I win,  
Nor for me clients purple spin.   

But of trust and wit some store have I:  
To me but poor, come men raised high by fortune:  
More of the Gods themselves ne'er crave I,  
Nor greater things of my great friend importune:  
I wish not for more land or rent.  
Sabine alone yields me content.   

One day another day expelleth,  
New-moons soon die: Thou marble-trimmers hyrest  
Ready to go where Pluto dwelleth;  
And, building, vainly to long life aspirest.  
From Neptune thou the shore dost steal away,  
Encroaching on the angry Sea.   

What should I tell, how 'gainst all order  
Thy neighbour's landmarks always thou removest,  
And from thy tenants that upon thee border,  
Ground pilfers: Thou from house and home out-shovest  
Both man and wife, that wailing bear  
Their household gods and children dear.   

Yet hast thou (rich Lord) no assurance  
So great of any house where thou remained,  
As that thou shalt be kept in durance  
Of all-devouring hell, and there restrained.  
What wilt thou? None the grave can shun:  
It takes the King, and the King's son.   

Nor was hell's Catchpole with gold bribed  
Wily Prometheus backward to bring again:  
He boasting Tantalus derided,  
And his proud offspring though they cried out amain.  
He easeth men cast down with woe,  
Whether they call on him or no.    

Ad Posthumum. Lib. 2. Ode. 14.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
None can deny, we all must die.  
And riches to no end  
Some keep with fears, which their glad heirs  
Soon riotously will spend.   

OPosthume, Posthume, years do pass away  
Like gliding streams. Nor piety can stay  
The wrinkled brow, nor old age hasting fast,  
Nor death, that all attacheth at the last.   

Not if my friend, each day in all thy years,  
Stern Pluto thou should with three-hundred Steers  
Seek to appease. Three-headed Geryon,  
And Tytius, o'er the Stygian stream are gone:  
Which all must do that here do draw their breath;  
Both Kings, and silly Labourers of the earth.   

In vain from bloody broils we take our ease,  
And from th' encounters of the Adrian Seas:  
In vain in Autumn seek we to avoid  
The Southern blasts, whereby we are annoyed.   

We needs must see Cocytus' heavy flood,  
And Danaus' cruel daughters stained with blood,  
And Sisyphus that rowles against the hill  
The stone that tumbles back upon him still.   

Thy house, thy land, and wife to thee most dear,  
Thou needs must leave: Nor to the mournful beer  
Will any of these trees that thou dost dress,  
Attend on thee, but the sad Cyparess.   

Thy heir, more worthy, riotously will waste  
Thy Cecube wines with many locks kept fast;  
And die the pavement with high-spirited wine,  
Better than Prelates drink of when they dine.    

Ad Pirrham. Lib. 1. Ode 5.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
He saith, their state is cursed by Fate  
That Pirrha's baits enthral:  
From this gulf freed, vowed gifts with speed  
That he hung o'th' Church-wall.   

WHat pretty youth, weltering in roses  
With liquid odours overspred,  
O Pirrha thee in is arms encloses,  
When thou loves Lecture hast him read  
Ith' inner bower? Neglecting curious dresses,  
For whom plaitst thou the gold-wire of thy tresses?   

How oft will he that at his pleasure  
Enjoys thee now (alas) complain,  
That he is robbed of that sweet treasure  
By angry gods, and vows made vain?  
How will he curse the Seas so soon that wrangle,  
Whom such sly baits could not before entangle?   

For he poor soul, deceived, believed  
Thou wouldst be true to him alone,  
And lovely: But his heart, now grieved,  
Thy false inconstancy doth moan.  
His tents he in destructions black field pitches,  
Whom thou untride, with thy fair face bewitches.   

The Temple's wall, that's consecrated,  
To every eye the Table shows  
Where my sad shipwreck is related:  
And how i'th' midst of all my woes,  
I hung to th' Sea god, after strange beseeches,  
My doublet wring wet, and cod-pieced breeches.    

Ad Martium Censorinun. Lib. 4. Ode. 8.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
That to his friends he nothing sends  
But Verses: and this gift  
Doth make men's name, resound with fame,  
And them to heaven uplift.   

RIch plate and jewels, that do lively show  
The workman's skill, I frankly would bestow  
Upon my friends, O Censorine. I would  
Give them fair tables garnished with gold,  
inlaid with Ivory, on strong trestles set,  
Th' high-prized rewards of valiant Greeks. Nor yet  
Shouldst thou the worst have, if I did abound  
With those things that Parrhasius have renowned,  
Or Scophas, to these present times; The one  
Cunning in colours, th' other in hard stone,  
To make a man, or god: But, this I want:  
And of such ornaments thou hast no scant.  
Thou verses lov'st: I verses can give well,  
And of this gift the worthy praises tell.  
No marble Statues with high titles wrought,  
By which both breath, and life again is brought  
To noble Captains after they are dead;  
Nor Hannibal, with break-neck speed that fled  
(When all his threats upon himself returned)  
Nor faith-less Carthage into cinders burned,  
Do more his noble acts commit to Fame  
(Africa subdued, that gained a glorious name)  
Then the Portuguese Muses. If they fail  
To do good deeds, it nought will thee avail.  
Had not the Boys name long since from us fled,  
Whom Mars (when Ilia lost her maidenhead)  
Begot, if envious silence could from us  
Conceal the acts of worthy Romulus?  
From Stygian rivers, Aeacus, set free  
By powerful skill of divine Poesy,  
Is canonised for ever to remain  
Amongst th' Heroës' in th' Elysian Plain.  
Praiseworthy men the Muse forbids to die:  
The Muse men blesseth with eternity.  
Great-hearted Hercules is so Ioues guest,  
And frolicks with him at his wished feast.  
The two Tindarian twins, so, safely keep  
The Ships, though tossed in billows of the Deep.  
So Mars (his temples circled with vine-bowes)  
Grants men's requests, and binds them to their vows.    

Ad Lydiam. Lib. 3. Ode 9  

THE ARGUMENT.  
Though late some jar did them debar  
From kindness used before:  
Yet jointly now, they make a vow  
Of love for evermore.   Hor. 

WHile lately Lydia thou didst love me,  
When thy white neck I in mine arms (then blest) did fold,  
And thou no Gallant graced above me,  
I then the Persian King more happy was inrould.   Lyd. 

While Horace thine affection's flame  
Was firm, and Lydia thou then Chloë 'steemd not less,  
Thy Lydia then, of no mean fame,  
I lived more honoured than the Roman Empress.   Hor. 

Now Thracian Chlo ' has my heart sure,  
That sweetly bears a part in pricksong, and can play:  
For whom I would deaths pain endure,  
If so the Destinies would put off her dying day.   Lyd. 

Kind Calais, and me Love so  
Heats with his mutual fire, dispersing clouds of strife,  
That twice I death would undergo  
If for my Boy I could renew his lease of life.   Hor. 

What if old Love to us wing make,  
And us now severed, in still lasting links do bind?  
If gold-haird Chloë I forsake,  
And Lydia my door ne'er shut against her find?   Lyd. 

Though he be fairer than a star,  
Thou lighter than the cork that still doth floating lie,  
And angrier then enraged Seas fare;  
I love with thee to live, with thee I wish to die.    

Eadem aliter.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
In one state they can never stay,  
Whom Cupid's toys entangle:  
What now they choose, they strait refuse  
Still fickle and newfangle.   Hor. 

WHen I enjoyed thee without check,  
And none more welcome did embrace  
The snowy treasure of thy neck,  
The Persian Monarch gave me place.   Lyd. 

While thou loved not another more,  
Nor Chloë bore away the bell  
From Lydia renowned before,  
I Roman Ilia did excel.   Hor. 

Chloë, my Mistress, is of Thrace,  
Whose warbling voice by skill is led:  
For whom I would see Death's pale face,  
If she might live when I am dead.   Lyd. 

Now Calais is my heart's delight.  
He answers me with love again:  
For whom I twice with Death would fight,  
If he my halfe-selfe might remain.   Hor. 

What if sweet Venus do revive,  
And true-loves-knot between us tie?  
If from my thoughts fair Chlo ' I drive,  
If my door open when Lydia 's nigh?   Lyd. 

Though he then stars be fairer fare,  
Thou angrier than the raging Seas  
When 'gainst the sturdy rocks they war:  
With thee I'll live and end my days.    

Eadem paulo fusius.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
The storm now spent of discontent  
(If Lovers words be true)  
The bonds again (still to remain)  
Of love we will renew.   

WHen I had scaled, and did possess  
The happy Fortress of thy love,  
And all assailants comfortless  
Tired with long siege did thence remove;  
In Fortune's lap, who then, but I,  
By Venus' luld-asleep did lie?   Lyd. 

While thou this lovely fort kept well,  
And thy affections did not range,  
Nor 'gainst thee oft made vows rebel,  
Nor Lydia did for Chloë change,  
No Princess was more blest in earth,  
I then did draw most happy breath.   Hor. 

Now Thracian Chloë hath the raines  
Of my affection in her hands,  
Skilful in Music's sweetest strains,  
And well to play she understands:  
For whom I would breathe out my last,  
If she might live when my life 's past.   Lyd. 

Well featured Calaïs' is my joy:  
He hath possession of my heart:  
He sets me free from all annoy:  
He love for love doth still impart:  
For him I twice would death endure,  
If him long life it might procure.   Hor. 

What are our jars if Venus' smile,  
And (cunning) with her graceful train,  
Our minds distracted reconcile,  
And bind us in a steadfast chain?  
If from my house fair Chlo ' I reave,  
That it my Lydia may receive?   Lyd. 

Though he in beauty fare excel  
The stars, the fairest youth alive:  
And thou unconstant be, and fell,  
As waves against the winds that strive;  
With thee I would in life remain,  
With thee I death would entertain.   
julius Scaliger so extolleth this Ode, and the next following, that I assayed to translate this, three ways; desirous that one of them may give content. His words are these:  
Inter caeteras, duas animadverti, quibus ne Ambrosiam quidem, aut Nectar dulciora putem. Altera 3, 4. lib. Altera 9 tertij, Donec gratus eram, etc. Quarum similes malim à me compositas, quam Pithonicarum multas Pindari: quarum similes malo composuisse, quam essetotius Taraconensis Rex.   

Ad Melpomenen. Lib. 4. Ode 3.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
Whose birth the Maze doth not refuse  
To grace with friendly eye,  
Shall glory gain, by the sweet vein  
Of divine Poesy.   

WHose birth Melpomeney  
Thou smiling look'st upon,  
No toil in Isthmos him can make  
A famous Champion.   

No stately Steeds shall draw,  
Contending for the prize,  
His conquering Chariot going on  
With joyful shouts and cries.   

Nor good success in war,  
To th' Capitol him brings  
Adorned with bays, because the threats  
He battered of proud Kings.   

But waters, that their course  
By fertile Tiber take,  
And woods with leaves thick-clad shall him  
Renowned by verses make.   

The Gallants of great Rome  
Amongst the crew recite me  
Of lovely Poets: Envy now,  
With venom split, less bites me.   

O Muse, that guid'st the strings  
Of the sweet warbling Lute:  
O thou that if thou wilt canst give  
Swans notes to fishes mute;   

It's thy free gift, that me  
Her Poet Rome doth call:  
It's by thee that I breath, and please,  
If ought I please at all.    

Laudes rei rusticae. Epod. 2.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
He many ways the life doth praise,  
That men i'th' country find:  
Amongst the rest, he likes that best  
For quietness of mind.   

he's blest, from City turmoyls free  
(As whilom men were wont to be)  
His Sire-less land with his own steers  
That ploughs, and Usurers ne'er fears.  
Alarms fierce him do not raise,  
Nor trembles he at th' angry Seas:  
He the proud gates of great men flees.  
To Lawyers he creeps not with fees;  
But to the youthful Vine doth wed  
The Poplar with his stately head,  
Or else dead branches off doth cut,  
And better in their room doth put.  
Or in the winding valley he,  
Sees where his heads of cattles be;  
Or honey lays up safe to keep  
In pots, or shears his feeble sheep:  
Or when Autumnus head is crowned  
With apples ripe in each field found,  
How glad's he pears he graft to pull,  
Or grapes of pleasant liquor full,  
With which he Priape thee rewards,  
Or Sylvan that the fields regards?  
Now under th' aged Oak he'll rest,  
Now on the grass, as he likes best.  
Mean while from hills the waters fling,  
And in the woods the birds do sing,  
The bubbling fountains murmurings make,  
And him invite a nap to to take.  
But, when sharp winter cold doth blow  
Ith' thundering air with sleet and snow,  
With dogs he drives the eager Boar  
Into the toils prepared before;  
Or stretches forth his nets on stakes,  
With which the greedy Thrush he takes,  
The farre-come Crane, or fearful Hare  
(His pains sweet pay) he doth ensnare.  
Thus busied, who doth not forget  
The cares that lazy Lovers fret?  
But if his modest wife part bear  
In guiding th' house and children dear  
(As Sabines and the sunburnt wife  
Of stern Apulia led their life)  
And sacred fire of dry wood burn  
Against her Goodman home return:  
If the milch Yewes to Fold she bring,  
And milking them do something sing,  
And draw forth wine, and spread the board  
With th' unbought cates the Farms afford,  
No Leverine shellfish more likes me,  
Nor Bret, nor dainty Golden-eye,  
In Eastern Seas if any tossed  
A storm do drive upon our Coast.  
I love not more an Africa hen,  
Nor the Iönian Attagen,  
Then Olives ripe, that gathered be  
From fattest branches of the tree;  
Or Rheubarb that doth love the field,  
Or Mallows that good physic yield,  
Or Lamb slain at the Landmarks feast,  
Or Kid from the Wolves jaws released.  
Thus feasting, how much dothed him good  
To see his full-fed flocks home scud?  
To see, with necks faint, drooping how  
The Oxen draw the turnd-up plough?  
And Hinds; the swarm rich men desire,  
Beaking themselves before the fire?  
The Usurer Alphëus (this said)  
A country life then needs would lead:  
Ith' Ideses his money forth, cald-in;  
Ith' Calends it lays out again.   
This Ode following, came unto my hands under the name of Mr. Ben. johnson: which (for the happy imitation of Horace) I have also published.   

Ad Authorem.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
Till his Sire true do claim his due,  
This Infant I do cherish:  
Though without name, it were a shame  
It should in darkness perish.   

REmember, when blind Fortune knits her brow,  
Thy mind be not dejected over-lowe:  
Nor let thy thoughts too insolently swell,  
Though all thy hopes do prosper ne'er so well.  
For, drink thy tears, with sorrow still oppressed,  
Or taste pure wine, secure and ever blest,  
In those remote, and pleasant shady fields  
Where stately Pine and Poplar shadow yields,  
Or circling streams that warble, passing by;  
All will not help, sweet friend: For, thou must die.  
The house, thou hast, thou once must leave behind thee,  
And those sweet babes thou often kissest kindly:  
And when th' hast gotten all the wealth thou can,  
Thy pains is taken for another man.  
Alas! what poor advantage doth it bring,  
To boast thyself descended of a King!  
When those, that have no house to hide their heads,  
Find in their grave as warm and easy beds.    

Ad Torquatum. Li. 4. Od. 7.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
Goods got with care, we should not spare,  
But spend them merrily:  
It than best fits, while time permits;  
Which soon us hence will carry.   

THe snows are fled, the fields are clad with grass,  
And leaves trees prank:  
Times change, and floods decreasing pass  
Not their known bank.  
The Graces, with the Nymphs naked on the strand,  
The Measures sweetly dance, hand joined in hand.  
The Year and Night, that cancels the fair day,  
Shows we must die:  
Cold by the Spring, the Spring is driven away  
By Summer nigh:  
Summer to Autumn yields, that pours forth grain:  
Then barren Winter takes his room again.  
Yet the swift Moons their losses soon repair:  
But, when we shall  
Come where good Anchus and Aeneas are,  
To dust we fall.  
How knowst thou, whether the great gods will give  
Thee one day longer in the world to live?  
Thy friendly gifts the clutches scape alone  
Of thy glad heir.  
When thou just Minos' doom hast undergone  
(Laid on the beer)  
Nor thy high birth (Torquatus) nor thy wit,  
Nor piety thee thence will ever quit.  
Diana, Patroness of chastity,  
Can not recall  
Hippolytus, that in dark vaults did lie  
Of Pluto's hall:  
Nor Theseus the infernal chains could rend,  
That captive held Pirithous, his friend.    

Ad Chloen. Lib. 1. Ode 23.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
That there's no cause, from Cupid's laws  
Why Chloë free should sit;  
For Hymen's rites, and sweet delights,  
Since she's already fit.   

THou shunn'st me, Chloë; like the Fawn  
Missing her mother in the Lawn,  
That trips to th' hills, in fear  
Of every blast and breare.   

For, whether winds amongst leaves rustle,  
Or Lizards in the brambles bustle,  
She trembles at the hart,  
And quakes in every part.   

I come not Tiger-like to ill thee,  
Or as a Lion fierce to kill thee:  
Still follow not thy mother,  
Now fit for another.    

Ad Aristium Fuscum. Lib. 1. Ode. 22.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
If thou, within, do feel no sin,  
That tortureth thy mind,  
Thou mayst from thence a sure defence  
Against all dangers find.   

AN upright man, and honest liver  
(O Fuscus) needs nor bow, nor spears  
Of the black Moor, nor yet the quiver  
He full of poisoned arrows wears;   

Whether through Circe's scalding Sands,  
Or craggy Caucasus, he go,  
Or places where through many Lands  
Hydaspes' streams do gently flow.   

For, in the Sabine wood while I  
Of Lalage sung without dread,  
And rom'd with care-less liberty,  
A Wolf from me unarmed fled;   

An hideous beast: whose like i'th' groves  
Of warlike Daunia doth not dwell;  
Nor in Morisco's Deserts roves  
The dry-nurse of the Lions fell.   

Ith' dull fields set me, where no tree  
Relieved is with gentle air;  
That ne'er from clouds, and mists is free,  
But still doth angry tempests bear.   

Under the glorious chair me set,  
Whence Phoebus mounting up on high,  
The earth with burning rays doth beat,  
And dwellings unto men deny;  
I Lalagen will love the while,  
That sweetly speaks, and sweetly smiles.    

Lib. 1. Ode 26. Ad Lamiam.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
He doth declare, that those, which are  
Unto the Muse's kind,  
Do ease their grief, and find relief  
From Passions of the mind.   

I, Of the Muses loved, sad Care and Fear  
Will to the stubborn winds commit to bear  
Into the Cretian Seas, secure alone  
Of tidings from the Northern coast that's blown  
Of some King there, that's awful for his might;  
Or what so Tyridates doth affright.  
O gentle Muse, that lov'st the fountains clear,  
Fair fresh flowers gather, springing here and there:  
And garlands for my dearest Lamia make:  
My praise without thee no effect can take.  
Thee and thy Sisters it becometh well  
With Lesbian Harp, and Songs, his praise to tell.    

Lib. 3. Ode 30.  

THE ARGUMENT.  
That more his name is raised by Fame,  
For Lyric Poesy,  
Than Kings that raise Pyramids,  
For lasting memory.   

A Work I ended have, which brass will far outwear, 
The English (as the first) answereth the Latin in lines & syllables.   
And 's higher than the stately piles that Kings up-rear;  
Which neither rating Rain, nor boisterous Northern blast,  
Nor progress of years numberless, e'er down shall cast:  
On which ne'er wingd-foot Time shall any vantage have.  
I wholly shall not die. My better part, the grave  
Shall not enclose. My fame, with Ages following, shall  
Grow always green, whiles to the sacred Capitol  
The Priest with silent Vestal virgins up shall go.  
It will be told, where raging Aufidus doth flow,  
And poor in water where old Daunus forth doth show  
His sunburnt face to people rude, that I (from low  
Estate advanced) was he that first of all did suit  
Aeolian Songs and Sonnets to a Roman Lute:  
Be proud, Melpomene, of this deserved praise,  
And bind my temples willingly with Delphian Bays.    
FINIS.   

EPIGRAMS, EPITAPHS, ANAGRAMS, And other Poems of diverse subjects; in Latin and English.   printer's device (?) not found in McKerrow: "grain sheaf flanked by lions enclosed in circle with motto 'cor unum via una', not found in McK. " [description from EEBO catalogue record of STC (2nd ed.) 2390.5 where this device appears on title page] 
COR VNUM VIA una  
LONDON, Printed by H. L. for Richard Moor; and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint Dunstan's Churchyard, in Fleetstreet. 1621.   

AD ORNATISSIMUM virum, D. GEORGIUM CALVERT, Equitem auratum, & Regiae Majestatis à Secretis, & Consilijs.  

EXcerptes varijs exhortis undique flores,  
Naribus afflantes qui placuere meis,  
Eque meo paucos collectos nuper agello  
Connexósque, unum in do tibi fasciculum:  
Queîs si laeta tui spiraverit aura favoris  
(Ambrosii quae illis roris ad instar erit)  
Mista rosis noster calathis tibi lilia plenis  
Hortus, & hyberno tempore, pulchra dabit.   
Dignitatis tuae studiosissimus, IOH: ASHMORE.   

A SPEECH, MADE TO the King's Majesty coming in his Progress to Rippon, the 15. of April, 1617. In the Person of MERCURY.  

HIgh jove, with all the gods together met,  
To see (great King) thy coming to this Town,  
The casements large of heaven have open set,  
And from their star-paved floors have sent me down,  
Thee in their name to welcome to this place;  
Which both thy Bounty, and thy Presence grace.   

Young Phoebus, from his bright and radiant hair,  
Such joyful light abroad here never shed  
Since good King Adlestone of yore did rear  
These stately piles with gold embellished;  
Which aftertimes (misleaded) did rend asunder,  
And at the last (alas!) were fired with thunder.   

What Iliads of grief! what doleful teen!  
What Out-cries then were heard of young and old!  
What Lamentation in the streets was seen,  
As in this fearful case they did behold  
These holy things doomed to the fire a prey?  
But at a trice the Heaven his rage did stay.   

For, in the Destiny's rolls, that open were,  
(Thrice sacred King of men) they found, that thou  
These woeful ruins should again upreare,  
And Royal gifts for aye on it bestow:  
Nor can we think how better they deserve  
That build, than they from downfalls that prezerve.   

No marvel then, if every field and tree,  
The windows and the tops of houses too,  
With people of all sorts replenished be,  
And where thou go'st if Nymphs sweet flowers do strowe.  
From every place (good King) see how they run.  
To feast their eyes; and cry, he'S come, he'S come.   

Nor were the sluices of thy Bounty so  
Set open to the Churches good alone:  
But, it abundantly did also flow,  
And to the Town by graceful streams was shown,  
When (made a body Politic) they did rise  
To Place, with Hutton's, York's, and Mallory's.   

And though Pactolus, with his golden sands,  
Be fare remote from places where they dwell:  
Yet come they not (good King) with empty hands:  
For, other gifts they bring which gold excel;  
TRUE LOYAL HEARTS: which thou wilt not forsake.  
Of Harvest small, the gods small handfuls take.   

The gods above, thy loving Subjects here,  
Thy sacred Person in protection take:  
And so Adieu, to gods and men most dear;  
Whom, in such Progresses, oft happy make:  
And, by Heroïck deeds beseeming thee,  
Make way to th' high towers of Eternity.   
These verses following, were then delivered to his Majesty, and by him most graciously accepted.   

Ad Potentissimun & Clementiss. Regem JACOBUM, Ecclesiae Collegiatae Ripponensis Restauratorem benigniss. auspicatissimo Maiestatis suae progressu Ripponam advenientem, 15. Aprilis 1617.  

Ad Regem.  
SIbonus est Superûm Rex Dispensator, ut illos  
Terrestris curae non grave tangat onus;  
Vivite tum coeli securè Numina: Talis  
Oeconomus nobis haud datus antè fuit.   

Angl.  
If of the gods good Kings high STEWARDS be,  
To ease them of the care of things below;  
Then live secure, O heavenly Powers: for we  
So good a STEWARD ne'er before did know.   

Ecclesiae Ripponen: Prosop.  
Struxit Adelstonus: Danus destruxit: at Odo, et  
Thurston, Pontifices, mî magis ampla dabant:  
Rèxque (sacra accenso Iacobus pectore flammâ)  
Sacrilegae reddit quae rapuere manus.   

Angl.  
King Adleston me built, Danes down did pull:  
But Odo'nd Thurston, made me beautiful:  
And (moved with zeal) King james doth now restore  
What sacrilegious hands had robbed before.   

Altera eiusdem Prosop.  
Me Danus miseram afflixit, Belloque potitus  
Indigno Scotus vendidit (heu!) pretio:  
Hijs sed fata dabant ut regnis Regia proles  
Gentis commissa haec expiet (Ecce!) suae.   

Angl.  
The Dane me sacked, poor wretch, the Scot, o're-bold  
In victory, unworthily me sold:  
But, to both Realms a Royal stem, by Fate,  
His people's faults (Behold!) doth expiate.   
These following, were added since.  

Alia eiusdem Prosop.  
Audijt Elizabetha meas Regina querelas:  
Sed nihil auxilij (morte vetante) dedit.  
Regis erat magni tantas fulcire ruinas:  
Solus habes laudem hanc, Rex bone: solus habes.   

Angl.  
Queen Elsabeth oft my complaints did hear:  
But she no help (by death prevented) gave me.  
These ruins craved a great King them t' upreare:  
This praise thou hast alone, good King, to save me.   

De Rumore falso, de Regis morte subitò sparso.  
Fama per attonitam subitò cum spargeret Vrbem  
Ante diem te (Rex magne) obijsse diem;  
Indomito cuneti laxabant fraena dolori,  
Et veluti vero in funere quisque gemit.  
Heu, pater, exclamant, Patriae est extinctus: in illo  
Extincta est populi luxque, decus que sui.  
An quisquam meliùs rerum moderavit habenas?  
justitiave prior, vel Pietate fuit?  
Quisquam adeòvixit cum Maiestate benignus?  
Regali miseros sustinuítve manu?  
Heu! tantae nullus conscendit culmina laudis:  
Talem nulla dabant saecula: nulla dabunt.  
Vera quidem falsae sic famae filia fama est,  
Quae mundo laudes exprimet usque tuas.   

Angl.  
When Fame (great King) did through this City fly,  
And told how Thou too soon a death didst die;  
All places paid to thee the woeful Rent  
Of Tears, which from their grief-swoln eyes they sent.  
The Father of our country's dead, they cry,  
And with him all our joys do buried lie.  
Who e'er the raines of kingdoms so did guide?  
Whose justice joined with Mercy so is tried?  
Who mildness so with Majesty hath sorted?  
Or with his kingly hand the wronged supported?  
None e'er (alas!) with such high praise did live.  
No Age hath given one like him: none shall give.  
So, false Report hath true Report brought forth,  
Which still shall witness to the world thy worth.   

De Eodem.  
Cur populi, procerumque pias sic verberataures  
Fama per indignas te cecidisse manus?  
Scilicet, hoc meditans, ut vivus cernere possis,  
Quae tibi defuncto fama superstes erit.   

Angl.  
Wherefore did Fame this woeful News forth spread,  
That thou (our Sovereign) by cursed hands wast dead?  
Sure, to this end; that thou alive might see,  
When thou art gone, what fame will follow thee.   

Ad CAROLUM, Augustissimum Walliae Principem.  

Anagr.  


STEVARDUS.  
EST ARDWS.    


STEWARDUS.  
ARDWS ES TU.     

Aliud.  


CHAROLUS STEVARDUS.  
CHARUS ET ARDWS SOL.     

EPIGRAM.  
ARDWS orbe suo SOL, luce ET CHARUS uterque est: Lucet ut Ille Polo, luceat hicque Solo.   

Of the Prince his Impreze. Ic Dien. I serve.  
Natus ad Imperij diadema, EGO SERVIO, Princeps.  
Qui bene non servit, non reget ille bene.   

Angl.  
I SERVE, the Royal Sceptre born to sway.  
he'll ne'er rule well, that well did not obey.   

Ad Pictorem.  
Pingere si nostri Pictor vis Principis ora,  
MAIESTAS vultu sit venerandasuo.  
Insideat labijs PITHO, frontíque MINERVA:  
MANSVETUDO suis sit generosagenis.  
Laeta suos circumvolitet VICTORIA crines:  
Et CHARITUM ex oculis emicet alma cohors.  
Scandere si neque as tanta ad fastigia, dicas;  
NATURAE (ah!) Dominae cedit ut ARTIS opus!   

Angl.  
If thou our Prince set forth in colours fit,  
Let MAJESTY (enthroned) in is Countenance sit.  
On 's lips let PITHO, on is brows let PALLAS rest.  
Let MILDNESS be his rosy cheeks chief Guest.  
Let joyful VICTORY o'er his locks hover.  
Let his eyelids the GRACES grace discover.  
But, if thy Skill this reach not, say; Alas,  
How fare doth NATURE, ART (her Page) surpass!    

To the most Beautiful and Virtuous Princess, the Lady ELISABETH.  
Anagr. 


ELISABETA STVARTA. 
Written before her marriage.   
TE BEAT ARA SALUTIS.     

Carmen Heroicum ex utrísque;  
Te beat Ara salutis, ELISABETA STVARTA.   

Epigr. de eodem Anagrammate.  
Virgins intactae soboles nostrae Ara Salutis  
Te Beat, & semper (Regia virgo) beet.   

Angl.  
The Virgin's birth (O Royal Maid) God's Son,  
For ever bless thee, as he hath begun.   

Ad eandem sereniss. Heroinam.  
Dia cohors Charitum per te numerosior una est:  
una tenes quae sunt omnia pulchra trium.   

Angl.  
Thou to the Grace's number addest one:  
But, all their virtues are in thee alone.    

Ad Illustrissimum Dominum, GEORGIUM VILLIERS, Marchionem Buckinghamiae Amplissimum.  

Non mores faciles, laetae non frontis honores,  
Ingenij aut Genij non decus omne tui:  
Externas tibi nec juveni data fama per or as,  
Quae reducem pennis te fovet alma suis:  
Fortunae comitata bonis non inclyta virtus,  
Nec tua in Aönios munera grata choros,  
Ad te oculos, animosque trahit mirant●um, & in albo  
Verè nobilium nomen habere dedit.  
Scire cupis quid sit? (verborum ambage relictâ)  
Haec uno pulchrè in Te omnia iuncta simul.   

Angl.  
Nor generous ' behaviour, nor thy brows sweet Graces,  
Nor MILDNESS which thy GENIUS still embraces:  
Nor FAME, which thou didst find in foreign Lands,  
And with her wings here fairly on thee fans:  
Nor virtues rare, with Fortune's gifts attended,  
Nor bounty to the Muses so commended,  
To thee men's eyes and hearts draws, and i'th' scroll  
Of true Nobility doth thee inrowle:  
But, what it is, soon wouldst thou understand?  
All these, in Thee alone, joined hand in hand.    

To the same right Honourable, GEORGE, Marquess of Buckingham, upon the Accession of his Office of the Admiralty. Ex Latino.  

SIng Io. Buckingham doth Seas control:  
He Horses rules, and Waves that proudly roll.  
So, 'mongst the gods, Neptune, that bravely glides  
Through Crystal streams, courageous Horses guides.  
Then, let none think this double Power unfit;  
Sith even the gods, themselves, have practised it.   

Idem aliter.  
Let's Iö's sing, till th' Echoes ring;  
For, Buckingham o'th' Seas  
Is General: He doth Horses free,  
And struggling Waves appease.  
So, 'mongst gods high in Majesty,  
He, that with triple Mace  
The Sea with waves rules when it raves,  
Guides Horses swift in chase.  
Let none amiss then think it is,  
That double power is given  
To one to bear; since to us here  
Th' example comes from Heaven.   

Idem paulò fusiùs.  
Io. A thousand Mermaids dance o'th' Main;  
Their Viceroy Buckingham to entertain.  
So, he, that the proud-neighing Horse commands,  
Is General in Thetis liquid lands.  
Likewise, 'mongst gods that are of highest place,  
Saphir-hewd Neptune, with his awful Mace,  
The mutinous waves, that subiécts to his laws,  
Makes sturdy steeds take bits in foaming jaws.  
Then, let no Cynic with his furrowed brow  
Grudge at this double power that 's given him now;  
Since, from the gods that reign in greatest state,  
We have this pattern given to imitate.    

To the Right honourable, EDMUND, Lord Sheffield, after his Recovery from a dangerous sickness.  

WHen sickness late Heroïck Sheffield pressed,  
Pallas was sick, and Mavors wished to die:  
Pallas, whom still he harboured in his breast;  
And Mars, who always raised his thoughts on high.  
And if that death had taken him away,  
Mavors, and Pallas, both, had died that day.   

Which Atropos, who came with murdering knife,  
Perceiving, cast the same out of her hand;  
And did refuse to cut his line of life  
Whose worthy praise is spread by Sea and Land;  
And said; Nay live: yea, and for ever live.  
So joy to men, and life to gods I give.   

In Bubbum.  
The Sermon Bub (whatsoever the Preachers do)  
Into three parts divides; and then sleeps two.   

In Gervasium.  
A Double Gelding Gervase did provide,  
That he and's wife to see their friends might ride.  
And he a double Gelding proved indeed:  
For suddenly he fell so to his speed,  
That both alight, with blows and threats among:  
He leads him; and his wife drives him along.    

To the Right Honourable, Sir FRANCIS BACONE, Knight, Lord High Chancellor of ENGLAND.  
Anagr. 


BACONE.  
BEACON.     

Thy Virtuous Name, and Office, join with Fate,  
To make thee the bright BEACON of the State.   

Epithaphium Radulphi Simson, Ecclesiae Collegiatae Rippon. Choristae.  
Spes Patris alma sui, suavis luscinia, cuius  
Hac sacra solita est vox resonare domo,  
Ascitus superis paret, mundóque supremum  
(Ah) NUNC DIMITTIS deficienscecinit.  
Ec iam virginea redimitus tempora lauro,  
Te Deum Divis, atque Aleluia canit.   

Angl.  
His Parents hope, the quires shrill Nightingale,  
With whose sweet voice these sacred walls oft rung,  
Summoned to th' Saints, and answering at first call,  
His NUNC DIMTLIS to the world hath sung;  
And, crowned 'mongst Virgins, with eternal Bays,  
TE DEUM sings, with Aleluïah's.    

To Master Aldebrough Esquire.  
Anagr. 


ARTHURE ALDEBROUGH.  
THOU EVER GLAD HARBOUR.     

Epigr. de eodem.  
Not weary to do well, THOU dost persever;  
And a GLAD HARBOUR to thy friend's art EVER.   
Aliud. 


ARTURUS ALDEBROGUS.  
SURGIT LABOR ARDWS.     

Epigram.  
Turpe viro torpor. SURGIT LABOR ARDWS. Ille  
Quot premit aerumnis! Hic quot ad astra vehit!   

Angl.  
Sloth for a man unfitting is.  
High labour up doth rise.  
How many hath that spoilt; and this  
Advanced above the skies!    

To the Right Worshipful, Sir EDWARD MOSLEY, Knight, Attorney of his Majesty's Court of the Duchy of LANCASTER.  

This NOTHING take of him, that owes to Thee  
All things; and NOTHING, if it greater bee.   

Ianus' is come; and now gins to call  
For gifts, due at his first day's Festival:  
But, gifts to him I none can find to bring:  
What? Are the sluices of the Thespian spring  
So shut up? Are my wits so in the wane,  
That the old Porter of the year, again  
Returning, should me empty handed see?  
I rather that, which no where found may be,  
In ways before unknown will seek: and, Lo,  
From place to place by wand'ring to and fro,  
My Muse hath NOTHING found. This Gift take well.  
Nothing doth pearl, Nothing doth gold, excel.  
This therefore with a friendly eye behold:  
A new thing 's here; which none before have told.  
The Latin and Greek Poets did rehearse  
All other things in their yet-living Verse:  
Nothing the Greeks and Latins left unsaid.  
Wheresoe'er fair Ceres in the fields doth spread  
Her Plentie-bringing hands from Heaven's towers,  
Or old Oceanus (from his watery bowers)  
The broad ball of the Earth encloseth round,  
Nothing 's beginning or end is not found.  
Nothing 's immortal: Nothing, on all sides,  
Still in the height of happiness abides.  
But, if from hence we prove the divine praise,  
Shall we not Altars then unto it raise?  
Nothing 's more pleasant than the cheerful light.  
Nothing with beauty more allures the sight,  
Then a well watered garden in the Spring.  
Nothing, than meadows, is more flourishing.  
Nothing is milder than the Southern wind.  
In hurly-burlies, Nothing rest doth find.  
Nothing is just in Peace. Nothing holds faith  
In Courtiers. And (as Tibullus saith)  
He happy is, that Nothing hath. For, he  
Fears not the traps of wily Treachery.  
He fears not scar-fires that great Towns lay waste:  
Nor he, by Thiefs,  
or Robbers, is aghast:  
Nor he, in careful Suits, his wit doth waste.  
And Zeno's Wiseman, that doth so subject  
All things to Fate, Nothing doth not neglect:  
HE admireth Nothing: Nothing he desires:  
And the Socratian but to this aspires,  
Nothing to know; which now's sought busily:  
And boys i'th' school learn Nothing willingly,  
Because to Wealth and Honour it doth bring.  
Know Nothing, and thou then shalt know the thing  
Which with a NO-SAY, eye-like, died in grain,  
Is in the top of learnt Pythagoras Beane.  
Mercurialists, the bowels of the earth  
That rent, and with fire-belching bellows breath  
Smelled metals, and their Patrimonies mingle  
With Sulphur, Mercury, and smoky Ingle,  
Instant upon their secret work in holes,  
Forced in their Fornaces with hell-black coals,  
At last with costly loss searching each creek  
Find Nothing; and yet, Nothing found, still seek.  
No Perch can measure this in th' Artists hand:  
Nor he, the number of the Lybian sand  
That knows, can number it. Nothing, alone,  
Is to Minerva and Apollo 'nknowne.  
Nothing, itself above the Stars up-reares:  
Nothing is higher than the glorious Spheres.  
And though all ornaments of Wit You have  
(Searching things hid in Nature's secret Cave)  
And graceful speech (which when you do advance, 
He was Commissioner from his Majesty touching the Forest of Knarsbrough.   
Might make whole Forests after you to dance  
The Measures) and grave Wisdom (which doth bring  
You to employment, from our gracious King,  
In matters of great Consequence) yet you  
(Oh! give me leave to speak the thing that's true,  
And all that know you, needs must to me grant)  
Do seem of Nothing to be ignorant.  
Yet Nothing than the glorious Sun-beame's lighter:  
And Nothing then the glowing fire is brighter:  
Nothing doth fit each Fancy. Add this too,  
Nothing's more subtle than the clouted-shoo.  
Touch Nothing: and thou then wilt surely say,  
Without a body Nothing touch we may:  
Nothing behold: and thou wilt say, that we  
Can Nothing without help of Colour see.  
Without a Voice, it speaks, and hears; and flies  
Without Wings: Nothing walketh without these.  
Without a Place, Nothing to go is able.  
Than Physic, Nothing is more profitable.  
Then, try not the Thessalian spells, or reels,  
When the Idalian dart thy breast, pierced, feels;  
Nor Dictean weeds, from Ida's top ta'en, prove.  
Nothing doth cure the wounds of cruel Love..  
And though thee Charon o'er his sad flood carry,  
Nothing will thee forbid there still to tarry.  
Nothing th' infernal King doth pacify,  
And bends the distafs of hard Destiny.  
The Titans brood, in fields Phlegreian drowned,  
Than stroke of Thunder Nothing mightier found.  
Nothing without the world's great walls doth stray.  
The gods fear Nothing. Why then dost thou stay,  
My Muse, so long? Than Virtue Nothing's better:  
And (to conclude) Nothing than jove is greater.  
But, now these subtle Trifles time bids end;  
Lest, if in too much paper I commend  
My Verses, unto you of Nothing sent,  
They might more Weariness bring, than Content.    

To Mr. MILES MOODY, of an Epitaph which he wrote of the death of his virtuous and loving wife, Elisabeth, daughter to Mr. William Faucet, Alderman of Rippon.  

ANd doth the Torrent of thy long-pent Grief  
At last break through the floodgates of thy woe;  
That in a stream of tears finds some relief,  
Which from thy heart o'ercharged with Sorrow flow?  
Nor can I blame thee, that (so left alone)  
The loss thou of thy dearest doth bemoan;   

Like the true Turtle, that his lovely mate  
(As she is busy feeding of her young)  
Beholds o'th' sudden (O ungentle Fate!)  
With a wreathed Serpent slily creeping stung;  
Whose poison shed itself int' every part,  
And ceased not till it had seized her hart.   

Her Mind devout, her Life was harmless led:  
To parents, children, and to thee most dear.  
With hope of joy, she (on her dying bed)  
Undaunted, entertained Death drawing near.  
In Earth, she by these virtues was commended:  
These were the stairs by which she Heaven ascended.   

Then serve a Supersede as on thy Woe:  
She will be absent from thee but a while.  
Meanwhile, the hours, that lingering seem too slow,  
Thou with her lively pictures mayst beguile.  
The time's at hand, when (joined in joys for ever)  
Nor Time, nor Death, shall power have you to sever.    

An Epitaph upon the death of ELISABETH BRIGGES, Daughter to the discreet Matron and Widow, Beatrice Brigges.  

COme Virgins, come: Why do you linger so,  
With streams of tears that from your swollen eyes shower?  
Her Grave with Roses and with Lilies strowe,  
That of your Garland was the fairest Flower.  
Lilies and Roses soon decay and perish,  
While bitter Wormwood and sharp Nettles flourish.   

Your Garlands break: henceforth no garlands bear:  
Their fading doth your fading state express.  
For Garlands, deadly Yeugh and Elder wear,  
And branches of the saddest Cyparesse.  
Lilies and Roses, etc.   

Ye Holly-hocks, why hold you down your heads?  
And Violets, why pine you so away?  
Because (alas!) that she from you is fled,  
That dressed you, and hath ta'en her leave for aye?  
Lilies and Roses, etc.   

O Hymen, why didst thou pale Death permit,  
Within thy Right, to set his hateful feet;  
And take her, that for thy sweet Rites was fit;  
For Bridals, that gave her a Winding-sheet?  
Lilies and Roses, etc.   

When Death arrested her, with his sad Mace,  
And cloudy Mists her Senses overspread,  
Her native favour he could not disgrace;  
Which was composed of purest white and red.  
Lilies and roses, etc.   

All, that thy sweet conditions did know,  
Desired, that their lives they so might spend:  
And all, that from this life did see thee go,  
Desired that their lives they might so end.  
Lilies and Roses soon decay and perish,  
While bitter Wormwood and sharp Nettles flourish.    

To Sir JOHN MALLORY, Knight, after his Recovery from a great Sickness.  

OF late, when Sickness on thy limbs did seize,  
Which Physics skill could nothing help or ease,  
And with an Habeas Corpus Death was pressed,  
With Non Omittas, ready theet ' arrest;  
Each corner of thy house was filled with Woe,  
And sense-distracting Grief ran to and fro.   

Which heard, the Cry oth'Poor about thy gates,  
So shaked the doors of th'Adamantine Fates,  
That by their Page th'a Supersede as sent  
To Death, to show th'had altered their intent.  
For, if we take him, one of them did say,  
How many will with hunger pine away!   

In Matildam.  
When Maud hath ta'en deep moultar of the Can,  
She tells long stories of her dead Goodman:  
How kind he was to her at bed and board;  
And that he never gave her angry word.  
Twixt every Cup she talks, no Healths forbears;  
Which her resolves, like Niobé, to Tears:  
Then sighs she, and drinks off another Cup  
(For, Sorrow's dry.) then suddenly gets-up  
(Nor can her Gossip's cause her longer stay)  
And t'her dear husband's Grave she takes the way:  
And thither come (crossing herself) doth weep;  
Then wrings her hands, knelt down, and falls asleep.    

To the virtuous, and fairly spreading Buds of Beauty, Mistress Marie, Francis, and joane Metcalf, daughters of Sir Thomas Metcalf, Knight, he dedicates these Roses.  

Ex Ausonio.  
ITh' Spring, the Day, by fair Aurora led,  
Breathed coolly; yet the Sense with pleasure fed:  
Quick Air before the Fastern Steeds did run,  
Advising to prevent the scorching Sun.  
Then roved I in a garden by a spring;  
Where to delight me fitted every thing.  
A candy Pearl upon each grass-pile hung:  
Nor sparingly Pearls on the herbs were fling:  
On cawles of Cobweb-lawn, glazed spangles played;  
Which full of heavenly liquor downward swayed.  
I saw the Rose-beds, with trim dress proud;  
Which till fair Day a dewy veil did shroud.  
Ith'thickets Gems were scattered here and there:  
Which hide themselves when Phoebus' rays appear.  
Whether the Rose Auror', or she hath died  
The Rose with maidens-blush, 't's not yet tried.  
Their Dew, their Colour, and their Morn is one:  
And both from Venus have protection.  
Perhaps their savour's one: Ith'aire, That's spent.  
This, nearer us, hath a fare sweeter sent.  
One Goddess guides the Star, and the Flower, too:  
And clad in Scarlet liveries, both go.  
Nor suddenly the branches of the Rose  
In equal distances themselves disclose.  
This bravely wears a Periwig on her head,  
Her pretty Leaves are all with Purple spread.  
From her square Base she climbs, and up ascendeth;  
And (pointed with a Rubie-button) bendeth.  
Her plaited Robes this gathers in the top,  
Ready to open now her silken Shop.  
Her smiling Treasures than she showeth plain,  
And seeds of Saffron, which there safe remain.  
She that but now her golden Leaves did brandish,  
Now pale (alas!) left of her Leaves doth languish.  
I mused, to see their Beauty did not stay;  
And, in their Cradle, that their Hairs grew grey.  
Even while I speak, see how their Glory Sheds,  
And how their Punick-pride the Ground o'r-spreads.  
Such Shapes, such Births, and diverse Changes grown  
In one day, are in one day overthrown.  
We blame thee, Nature, that Flowers soon decay:  
Thou only show'st them, than tak'st them away.  
The age of Roses but one day doth last:  
Which being gone, their youthful time is past.  
Her, whom now born the Sun saw rising red,  
Setting, he fainting sees on her Deathbed:  
Yet her Short Life required is, that she  
Lives ever in her fair Posterity.  
Pull Roses, Virgins, while the time doth last:  
And think how soon your Rose-time will be past.    

To Mr. WILLIAM MALLORY, and his dear brother JOHN, the generous and graceful children of Mr. WILLIAM MALLORY, Esquire.  

SEe here the Map of humane Misery,  
The Labyrinth that you are entering to,  
Full of cross-ways of ambiguity  
Like to Maeander running to and fro:  
Here had you need of Ariadneys' clue;  
Which in all doubts will aid and succour you.   

By help of it, the Minotaur you will slay  
(A Monster bred of Lust and lewd Desire).  
And, being rid of that perplexed way,  
To sweet repose of mind you will thence retire.  
Those, that to kill this Monster do not strive,  
Shall (piecemeal) be devoured of him alive.   

And may not I, the Palinurus now  
That at the Helm in a calm River sit,  
Of your launched Frigate, tell what th' heavens foreshow?  
That happy Winds shall still attend on it;  
And that great Neptune, with his azure train,  
Will steer it, till the happy Port it gain.    

Ausonius, ex graeco, de ambiguitate eligendae vitae. Edyl. 15. beginning thus;  

Quod vitae sectaboriter, etc.  
WHat kind of life may I desire as best,  
If Courts of justice freed from Brawls ne'er rest?  
If break-sleep Thoughts in private houses won,  
If home-Cares after weary Pilgrims run,  
If to new losses Merchants be inur'd,  
If Husbandmen, Want (not to be endured)  
Forbids to loiter: if Toil them o'r-throwes?  
If Seas, by Shipwreck, prove our deadly foes,  
If Discontents attend a Bachlers life,  
But more in vain to watch a wanton Wife?  
If Wars be bloody, if the sharking Arts  
Of Usurers, suck blood from poormen's hearts?  
Each Age brings Cares: none like the present season.  
Young Babes, yet sucking, judgement want and Reason.  
Boys it is hard within due bounds to keep:  
And harebrained Youth fall into dangers deep.  
Fortune afflicteth men by cruel Wars,  
By crafty fetches and revengeful jars,  
By endless troubles linked as in a Chain,  
Still to be changed for worse that do remain.  
At last, Old-age, ill-wisht-for, on us grows,  
And us a spoil to all Diseases throws.  
We always present things despise: 'tis seen,  
That some have wished, they gods had never been.  
juturna cryeth-out, Why made he me  
Immortal? Why from Death's stroke am I free?  
So unto Caucasus Prometheus tied  
Forbore not but on Satur's son out-cryed.  
Nor ceased he even jove himself by name  
(Because he was exempt from death) to blame.  
Behold the Virtues of the mind; and see  
Hippolytus overthrown by Modesty:  
But, he that takes delight his life to stain  
With Wantonness, or baits of Pleasures vain,  
Let him behold what punishment did fall  
On lustful Tereus, or Sardanapal.  
The Carthage Wars bid treachery eschew.  
Saguntum, that she kept her faith, might rue.  
Live, and keep friendship still; this only thing  
The pythagoreans did to ruin bring.  
But, fearing it, Keep none: for this, alone,  
Th' Athenians did uncivil Timon stone.  
With inter-fering Cares, Minds fraught dissent:  
That, which now pleaseth, strait will not content.  
Some Honours seek: which, had, they nought regard;  
Who, where they might command, stand at Reward.  
When this man is by favour raised high,  
he's thrust into the mouth of pale Envy.  
Still watchful Cares go with the Eloquent:  
But unkembd Clowns do want life's Ornament.  
Be thou a Patron, and defend th'accused;  
Of Client's Thankfulness is seldom used.  
Be thou a Client, than thou must be sure,  
Thy Patron's words, full of commands, t' endure.  
To this man, Senators make suit and moan:  
But, strait disgraced GRIEF him attends alone.  
Poor Old-age men despise. If Heirs thou want,  
Of cheating Clawbacks thou shalt have no scant.  
Be frugal, and a Niggard thou art named:  
Be lavish, than thou shalt be more defamed.  
If thou be forced Adversity to bear,  
Then all things else will go against the hair.  
Then, with the best Greek Sentence, I agree;  
'tis good, Not to be born; or Soon to die.    

To Mr. JOHN CAMEAGE.  

Thou living, dost right well, to have  
Remembrance of thy death and grave.   
Anagr. 


CAMEAGE.  
AGE CAME.     

Epigram. de eodem.  
When perils I by Land and Sea had passed,  
AGE CAME, and Summoned me to death at last.   

Epitaph.  
QVae mihi prima dedit primis documenta sub annis,  
Vrbs haec me tenuit, donec maturior aetas  
Me varios hominum mores, & regna vocavit  
Visere, nec rabidi vitavi vincula Turcae:  
A queîs mirificè explicitus, non immemor artis  
Typhi tuae incubuit pelago cum mortis imago,  
Meque meosque ferè exhaustos ad littora fida  
Christicolum adduxi: (summus Deus ille deorum  
Mî nauclerus erat) reducem me patria multos  
Post exa●tlatos terràque maríque labores  
Excipiens, vocat intermissa ad munia vitae;  
Et tandem placida hîc compôstus pace quiesco.   

Angl.  
This City, where to learn I first began,  
Me breeding gave, till (growing to a man)  
Strange fashions I and kingdoms longed to see;  
Not did I scape the Turkish tyranny.  
From which delivered strangely (of thy Art,  
O Typhis, that skilful was in part)  
Through raging Seas (guided by power divine)  
To th' trustier shore of Christians, me and mine  
I safely brought. Then, almost spent with toil,  
I came again to see my Countrey-soyle:  
Where to my former trade of life addressed,  
At last I here in quiet peace do rest.    

Epitaphium D. STEPHANI PROCTER, Militis.  

Absorptam tumidis navem prope fluctibus olim,  
In portum docta dirigis ipse manu,  
A Circe's technis rabidaeque voragine Scyllae;  
Dulcis ubi aeternùm est nunc tibi parta quies.   

Angl.  
Thy Ship, late tossed from Coast to Coast,  
Thou steered i'th' Port to rest,  
From Circe's charms and Scylla's harms;  
Where thou art ever blest.   

De Poculo. Ad G. N.  
Pulchra tibi argenti labris enpocula mitto:  
Candida purpure is iunge labella labris.  
Haec te Nectareo saturabunt pocula succo:  
Oscula tuque illis, Nectare digna dabis.   

Angl.  
With silver Lips this Cup to thee I send:  
Which with thy rosy Lips allow to blend.  
It will thee satisfy with Nectar sweet,  
Sweeter than Nectar, when thy Lips it greet.   

Aliud.  
Aurea labra tibi; sunt huic argentea: mista  
Sint haec, ut pulchris lilia pulchra rosis.   

Ad M. T.  
Tu surdo cantas, das pulchra emblemata caeco,  
Indoctis cum das carmina docta viris.   

Angl.  
Thou Pictures shows to th' blind, to th' deaf thou sings,  
When to th' unlearned thou learned Poems brings.    

Reverendo in Christo Patri & D. JOH. KING, Episcopo Londinensi.  

ORphea mirari cessent Acherontis ab undis  
Ducentem Eurydicen dulcè sonante Lyra:  
Aut Amphionio fundatas munere Thebas,  
Dum tangit nervos artipotente manu:  
Fluctibus aut dorso delphinis Ariona tutum,  
Mulcet dum cytharae monstra marina melos:  
Coelitus afflata hijs tua Regia Buccina praestat,  
Terrenas mentes ducere docta Deo.   

Angl.  
Let men now cease of Orpheus' Harp to tell,  
Which brought his wife Eurydice from Hell;  
Or how Amphion with his Lute did call  
Both Stones and Trees to build the Theban wall;  
Or how a Dolphin through the Seas did bring  
Arion, hired with his harmonious string.  
Thy Kingly Trumpet, filled with heavenly breath,  
Excels them, raising men to Heaven from Earth.    

Sibi merito colendo D. JOANNI BENETO, Militi.  
Anagr. 


JOANNES BENETUS.  
NUN BEAT JESUS?     

Epigram.  
Vel tu, vel nemo est (benedict BENETE) beatus:  
NUN BEAT JESUS te, benedict? Beat.   

Epigramma ad eundem.  
Gratior est pulchro veniens si corpore virtus,  
Cui non virtutis laus celebranda tuae?  
Splendidior a facit quae si fortuna secutrix,  
Quis bene Fortunae dona locata neget?  
Sed dedit haec jesus, qui se dat: quo sine Formae,  
Fortunae, atque Animi sunt Bona cuncta nihil.   

Ad D. HIGGINS: cuius rogatu, sequens Epitaph. scripsi.  
Ipse rogas (reverend) tuum que rogare, iubere est:  
Hoc Gravitas, mira & Mansuetudo facit.  
Haec rogat illa iubet: sic se amplectuntur, ut & tu  
justa rogans iubeas, atque tubendo rogues.   

Epitaphium D. GVIL. TALENTIRE, Rectoris de Goldsbrough.  
Tu bona (Talentire) tibi commissa talenta,  
Condeb as sterili non malè cautus humo:  
Reddebas Domino at fidus cum foenore seruus;  
Et fidei pretium coelica regna tenes.   

Angl.  
The Talents, which thy God unto thee lent,  
Thou hidst not, Talentire, nor lewdly spent;  
But, as a Servant true restored with gain;  
And hast thy Faith's reward, in Heaven to reign.   

Ad D. GVIL. MALLORY, cum VIRGILIUM sibi auro pulchrè ornatum dederim.  
Hoc (generose puer) tibi do; Maiora daturus,  
Si non obstaret sors inimica mihi.  
At tibi quod munus magno maius dare possim  
Virgilio, cuius maxima fama viget?   

Angl.  
This gift (O generous child) I give to thee,  
That greater would, if Fortune favoured me:  
But, what gift greater may I to thee give,  
Then Virgil great, whose greatest praise doth live?   

Ad T. N.  
Me debere tibi dixisti Epigramma: tuoque ut  
Liber ab aere siem, mitto Epigramma tibi.   

Angl.  
Thou sayest, I own to thee an Epigram.  
Take this: So, now out of thy debt I am.   

Ad celeberrimum Poëtam, JOANNEM OWEN.  
En: promissa tuus tandem calcaria mittit  
Ashmorus, meritò motus amore tui;  
 tibi, quem morum candor facit omnibus aequum,  
Plectatur meritò si sit iniquus equus.   

Epitaphium Reverendi viri, D. MOSIS FOWLER, primi Ecclesiae Collegiatae Ripponensis Decani.  
Coelum, Terra, Homines de re rixantur eadem:  
Fowlerum affirmat quilibet esse suum.  
Mercurius coelo tantas componere lights,  
Descendens, statim iussa paterna facit.  
Coelo animam, terrae corpus mandavit habendum,  
Ingenij nobis clara trophaea dedit.   

Angl.  
Heaven, Earth, and Men for one thing do contend:  
Each one doth Fowler challenge to be his.  
God's Messenger, from Heaven, this strife to end,  
Descend's: And thus his will performed is.  
His soul to Heaven, his body to the Grave,  
To Us the trophies of his wit he gave.   

Allusio in eiusdem nomen.  
Caeca tibi haud nomen tribuit Sors Aucupis: Ille  
 captat volucres, sic capis ipse viros.  
Ambo indefessi vos retia tentitis: ambo  
Docto pellaces mittitis ore sonos.  
Intentos oriens pradae Sol cernit: & idem  
Cernit Neptuni vespere regna petens.  
Est tamen, inter vos, aliquid discriminis: Auceps  
Tu captos servas mitis; at ille necat.   

Angl.  
Blind Fortune hath not Fowler named thee then.  
For, as he Birds doth take, so thou tak'st men.  
Not tired with toil, both spread your Nets, and mend:  
Heart-charming Tunes from skilful Mouths both send.  
The Sun both busy sees, when he gins  
His race, and when in Neptune's bowrs he Inns.  
Yet this betwixt you both the difference makes:  
Thou gently sav'st, He kills those that he takes.    

Lamentatio CATHERINAE FOWLER, castae & integerrimae Matronae, in suorum morte.  

Vnus erat coniux mihi, filius unus, & una  
Gnata: sed, hos mihi tres, tres rapuere dies.  
Quid deserta querar? voluit sic Trinus & Vnus;  
Orba ut terrenis coelica sola sequar.    

Ad D. Cradock, Ecclesiae Cathedralis Dunelmensis Cancellarium, de Patris sui morte.  

Stemmatibus Proauûm clarus; sed clarior altâ  
Virtute, & iunct a cum Pictate fide,  
Cradocchus iacet hîc, coeleste ad lumen anhelans;  
Lumina qui clausit mox fruitura Deo:  
Invita quem morte manet cum foenore vita,  
Per Christum coelo, per sobolémque solo.   

Ad Eundem.  
Munera cum miseris Dij dant mortalibus, illis  
Copia non minor est: sic imitare Deos.  
Sed nil daunt, nisi sint votis, precibúsque vocati:  
At tu, sponte tua; sic super asque Deos.  
Ergo tibi surget nostro Ara ex pectore sacra;  
Vnde tibi laudes, & pia thura dabo.   

Angl.  
Whenas the gods their Gifts on men bestow,  
Their Store's not less. The gods thou follow'st so.  
But, they give not except long vows compel them:  
Thou, of thyself, unasked: So thou excels them.  
Therefore my Heart shall still the Altar be;  
Whence, Praise and Thankfulness I'll yield to thee.   

Pulvinulus.  
Non me materies, Dominae sed sedula dextra,  
Laudat: gratus eris si sibi grata facis.   

Ad Martialem.  
Pythagorae verum si dogma est, corpore casso,  
Emigrare animam corpus in alterius;  
Tunc quem tam graphicè pinxisti (docte Poëta)  
Nunc est Lindallus, qui Decianus erat.  
Nam mag is haud simile est lac lacti, quam Deciano est  
Lindallus multis dotibus ingenij.  
Ergo adamantëis vinc'lîs iungatur uterque,  
Et cum laude illis, & sine fraude tibi.   

Ex Martial. Lib. 1. Epigr.  
If any worthy be to be inrowled  
Amongst true Friends, of which foretimes have told:  
If any in Greek Arts, or Latin be  
Well washed, and good with wise simplicity:  
If any that love's Right, goes honest ways,  
And so to God, that all may hear him, prays:  
If any stayed with Magnanimity;  
If this be not our Lindall, Let me die.    

Ad D. CHRISTOPH. LINDALL, Ripponae Praebendar. digniss.  
Anagr. 


CHRISTOFFER LINDALLE.  
ILEND, OFFER, CHRIST ALL.     

Epigr. de Eodem.  
Qui bene te novit, doctissime vir, bene novit  
Convenit ut fact is hoc Epigramma tuis.   

Angl.  
That with this Epigram thy deeds agree,  
They well know, that did ever well know thee.   

To the worthily much-honored Knight, Sir THOMAS FERFAX, of Denton.  
Whether thou warlike Barbary bestride  
(That angry is with the controlling bit)  
Or in calm Peace (thy armour laid aside)  
Determining Causes on the Bench dost sit,  
Or dost retire to th' Muses thy delight,  
And reads, or makes as they to thee indite:  
Wheresoe'er thou art (renowned Knight) thou dost bear  
The Image of that Monarch great of France,  
To whom Minerva brought both Shield and Spear;  
Whose Ensigns Victory did still advance;  
And on whose Grave, with bi●ter tears besprent,  
Mars mourns, and Prowess her hoare-hairs doth rend.  
Achilles' Friend so like him did not go,  
Whom Hector in his room enraged did slay,  
As thou dost him in every point: For, so  
His eyes he moved, his hands did so display.  
And, more: The Heavens this Grace unto thee give,  
His Virtues cannot die, while Thou dost live.    

Ad D. FERDINANDUM FERFAX, Militem.  
Anagr. 


Pherdinandus Ferfaxeius.  
I, Prudens dux: (ah!) ne differ as.     

Epigr. de Eodem.  
● Pede, Dux, fausto: noli differre paratus:  
Sic & Alexandro subditus orbis erat.    

To the famous Martialist, Captain WILLIAM FERFAX.  

Nor from thy Name dost thou degenerate,  
Stern Mars his Minion, Darling of the Muses;  
Nor prizes Honour at so low a rate,  
That it t' obtain thou any toil refuses.  
The way is steep, in which they must begin,  
That Honour's Fort do Scale, Surprise, and Win.  
With Trumpets sound, how sweetly dost thou join  
The pleasing tunes of gentle Erato!  
And with what sacred theft dost thou purloin  
The hearts of men! What manly Virtues grow  
From thy young Years! which since as I desire  
I cannot praise, I only will admire.    

Dialogus inter Vram & Skell, duos amnes Ripponam ambientes, & in part oppidi orientali coeuntes, de morte celeberrimi viri, joh. Mallory, Equitis aurati.  Vr. 

DIc mihi Skelle precor, solitus quite dare nobis  
Laetum, cur subitò solueris in lacrymas?  
An tibi quis liquidas turbavit flumine lymphas?  
An dilecta tibi Nympha proterva fuit?   Sk. 

Non hoc aut illud: gravior me cura fatigat,  
Nostràque sollicito & corda dolore premit.  
Nònne tibi nota est communis causa doloris?  
Nònne Malorëi funera nota tibi?   Vr. 

An Malorëus obit? Parcae potuere feroces  
Talis, & heu tanti, rumpere fila viri?  
An Malorëius obit? Fatorum O ferrea iura!  
Et nunquam humanis (heu!) saturata malis!   Sk. 

Illius interitu liquidis fleuere sub antris  
Naiades & scissis exululare comis,  
Illius interitu reböarunt omnia luctu;  
Quicquid habet Coelum, quicquid habetque Solum.   Vr. 

Hoc fuit, in thalamo cum me sopor altus habebat  
Muscoso, & Nymphae carmina laeta dabant,  
Horrendum ut Boreas mugiens, coelique ruina  
Corriperet stratis? hoccine causa fuit?   Skel. 

Ergo, cum nobis eadem sit causa dolendi,  
Ambobus pariter, sors & amara siet;  
Nostros iungamus latices, & flumen in unum:  
Qui geminatus erat, sic dolor unus erit.   Vr. 

Esto: sed hac sub lege tamen, coëamus ut ambo  
In Patris Oceani liberioris aquas:  
Hic dabit Amplexus, vitreóque cubile receptis;  
 levet ipse malis hospit is instar erit.   Sk. 

Gratius an quicquam mihi sit, quàm cernere vultus  
Illius immensas qui moderatur aquas?  
Hic nos excipiet: nobis lacrymando exhaustis,  
In fletus salsas suppeditabit aquas.   Vr. 

Angl.  
TEll me, good Skell, from mirth to mourning cheer  
What so hath changed thee, or what moves thy mind?  
Hath any troubled late thy Waters clear?  
Or doth thy lovely Nymph now prove unkind?   Sk. 

Nor this, nor that: far greater Grief I know,  
Which on my woeful Heart doth heavy lie.  
Hast thou not heard the cause of common Woe;  
The Funeral of famous Mallory?   Vr. 

Is Mallory dead? O cruel Fates decree!  
Can his great Worth obtain then no Relief?  
O Irow laws of still-stern Destiny,  
Ne'er satisfied with humane Woe and Grief!   Sk. 

At his death, Nymphs in liquid Bowers did weep;  
And, shrieking out, did rend their greenish hair:  
At his death, Wailing did all places keep:  
Both Heaven, and Earth their mourning weeds did wear.   Vr. 

Was this the cause when sweet sleep closed mine eyes  
In my moss-matted room, whiles Nymphs did sing,  
That Storm-winged Boreas, and the thundering Skies,  
Me from my bed so suddenly did bring?   Sk. 

Since both of Us then Partners are in woe,  
And neither from disastrous Chance are free,  
Let's join our streams, and both together go:  
So, that, which twofold was, one Grief will be.   Vr. 

Content: but, thus; that both together we  
Do run t'our Father Oceans larger coast:  
he'll us embrace in's glassy Hall; and he,  
To ease our Grief, will play the gentle Host.   Sk. 

May any thing more joyful me betide,  
Than him to see that rules i'th' watery Field?  
he'll us receive; and t'us, with weeping dried,  
He for fresh tears salt waters still will yield.    

Ad humanissimum virum, D. FRAN. TRAPS, Militem.  

Ne meritò videar sterili assimilandus agello  
(Nam data vix sterilis semina mittit ager.)  
Ecce tibi acceptum (Miles dignis sime) reddo,  
 magis auct atua & Copia nostra siet.  
Foelix hoc foenus, quod danti, quodque locanti  
Est lucro. Tali foenore Musa beat.   

In Rufum.  
Rufus, but late returning from the South,  
Knaps Southern; and now scorns his Countrey-mouth:  
He cringes with his Face, and looks aside;  
And sets his Countenance, as he were a Bride.  
He wears a nitty Lock: his Fingers skip,  
And dance Carantoes 'twixt his Waste and Lip;  
And is with Compliment so filled to th' Brim,  
That when a Gentleman but said to him,  
What is't a clock; he first his hand did kiss;  
To say then, At your service, did not miss.  
And as the time he entertained thus,  
Before he would lay open or untruss  
The Budget of his Speech, with much ado  
A formal leg he made, and said, 'tis two.  
Ye Homebred things, if you in's company fall,  
Be mannerly; or he will shame you all.    

Ad G. W. qui casu caput suum Cantabrigiae fregit.  

Alma foret nunquam jovis ex capite edita Pallas,  
Frangi non sineret si caput ipse sibi:  
Et tibi non fractum caput est modò Palladis urbe,  
Pallas ut intraret sic caput alma tuum?   

Angl.  
Pallas had ne'er been born of high Ioves head,  
If's Head had not been broke and brought a-bed:  
Was not thy Head, then, broke in Pallas Town,  
That Pallas in thy Head might take a room?   

In Sacrificum quendam.  
A Priest, for Penance, one enjoind to take  
A journey with three Pease, loof in his :  
Which he, devoutly given, did not forsake,  
But framed himself his Penance strait to do:  
Yet, that he might perform it with more ease,  
His wit did serve him, first to boil the Pease.    

To the Right Worsh. the Lady ELSABETH Metcalf, the La. Catherine Fennick, and the La. Marry bethel, Daughters of Sir Hen. Slingsbie, Knight.  

judge, Ladies, that are modest, fair, and wise  
(Since in their judgements Men do  so,  
And in these cases Women best advice)  
Whether Lucretia did do well, or no.   

Virgil: Lucretia.  
When with a knife chaste Lucrece stabbed her side,  
And streams of blood thence gushed-forth, she cried,  
My spirit in Heaven, my blood shall witness here,  
That I from stains of Chastity am clear.  
How well will these, brought for me, plead and prove;  
This with the Ghosts, that with the Gods above!   

Beza de Eadem.  
My body's stained: my Soul is pure and free.  
Then, from this body, chaste dost thou not flee?   

In Eandem.  
If the adulterer, Lucrece did thee please,  
By Death deserved thou seeks unworthy praise:  
But rather if he forced thee 'gainst thy will,  
For thy Foes fault, thou (mad) thy blood didst spill.  
In vain then Lucrece thou seeks praise, at all:  
For, madly thou, or wickedly, didst fall.    

To Mrs. Dorothy Wythes, wife to Mr. Charles Wythes, Esquire.  
Anagr. 


Dorothy Wythes.  
Wise, Harty, Doth.     

Epigr. de Eodem.  
Wise and Harty, both are good:  
Doth, gives them Life and Action.  
Without it, both are but a Bud,  
That grows to no Perfection.    

To Mr. Mark Metcalf.  

Eutrapeley (as some thought) is not dead,  
Though long since she from us be gone and fled.  
she's with Mark Metcalf gone to York from hence:  
And with him there keeps daily Residence.   

An Epitaph of I. H. Dyer.  
He lives with God, none can deny,  
That while he lived, to th' World did die.    

Ad Poetam doctissimum (utinam ditissimum) joh. Owen.  

Vates Mecoenas olim tres unus alebat:  
At nunc tres uni vix alimenta dabunt.   

Angl.  
Three Poets one Maecenas once did cherish:  
But now Three, One, for want of means, see perish.   

Aliter.  
Maecenas erst three Poets did maintain:  
By Three, now, One scarce Bread and Cheese can gain.   

Aliter.  
Three Poets one Maecenas whilom fed:  
Now Three let One go supperless to bed.    

Ad amicum suum D. ROBERTUM milner, de nomine suo, Ashmore.  

Littera non erit H, atque S omnino liquescet,  
Ne quidquam nobis sint in Amore morae.    

Ad D. ROB. MORE, Armigerum.  

Qui (More) more tuus, tuus & sict Oré que, Ré que,  
An dubites quin sit totus Amore tuus?    

Praenobili viro, D. Clifford, FRANCISCI Illustriss. Cumberlandiae Comitis filio & Haeredi.  

Cessent, Nobilibus sacrae qui Palladis artes  
Demunt, aut doctis nobile stemma negant:  
Hos omnes unus vincit Cliffordus utroque;  
Stemmatibus clarus, clarus & ingenio.    

To the Honourable, Sir Thomas Wentworth, Knight Baronet.  

Be where thou wilt, Worth always thee attends,  
In Public and in Private causes known.  
Virtues thy Worth, thy Worth Virtues commends;  
Which in thy Words and Deeds are daily shown.  
where-ever thou goes, so let thy Worth shine forth,  
That men may truly still say, There Went-worth.    

To Sir Charles Egerton, Knight.  

Moved (gentle Knight) by thy great Courtesy,  
And good Report I meet with every where,  
I add these few words to the Memory  
Of Him, to whom in kindred thou wert near;  
That Man of Worth, whom lately we did see  
England's State- Atlas', Cheshire's Treasury.   
Ex Io. Syl. Anagr. 


Thomas Egerton.  
Honours met Age.     

Honours met Age; and, seeking where to rest,  
Agreed to lodge and harbour in thy Breast,   

Ad Humanissimum virum, D. Guliel. Austin, Armigerum.  
Ergone cum clara resonet tua Buccina voce,  
Auribus obstreperet nostra Cicuta tuis?  
Sed ita vis; neque detrecto: Sic Daulias ipsa  
Carmen iners audit non variantis avis.  
Stridulus arguto sic garriat Anser Olori:  
Sicque Cicada tuis O Galerita sonis.   

Ad Ornatissimum Virum, D. Guidonem Palms, Militem.  
Corporis, aut Animi, si quis Bona ponderet, inter  
Millia multa virûm Palmes tibi Palma datur.   

Angl.  
If Ornaments thou of the Mind,  
Or Body in the Weigh-scales set,  
'Mongst many Thousands thou'll not find  
One, that from Palms the Palm can get.   

Ad Reverendum virum, D. Doctorem FAVOR.  
Est Favor in vultu: verbis Favor ipse relucet:  
Corpore pars toto nulla Favore vacat.  
Non mirum est igitur si sint ea plena Favore  
Quae facias, cum sis Totus & ipse Favor.   

Ad Insignem Poëtam, D. Ben. johnson.  
Ne sit iners impunè, tuus titubétve Caballus,  
Munera Mulciberi mitto polita manu.  
Nève tuus languescat amor, tibi Carmina mitto:  
Sic Pauper diti poma dat Alcinoö.   

Ad D. Franckland.  
Sit tibi terra ferax (omni feritate relictâ)  
Qui candore animi notus es esse ferax.   

Angl.  
Still let the Land be Frank to thee,  
(All rudeness set aside)  
Whose Frankness in all Courtesy  
So well is known and tried.   

Ad Hen. bethel, D. Gualteri bethel, Militis filium, cum justinianum sibi mitterem.  
Vis fieri Doctus? vis Dives? justinianum  
Perlege: Doctrinam, Divitiásque dabit.   

Angl.  
If Learning thou, or Riches wouldst obtain,  
justinian read: By him thou both mayst gain.   

Ad D. Io: Davies, Militen, judicem Itinerarium.  
Si tua legisset redivivus Carmina Plato,  
Queîs Animae dotes Entheus ipse canis:  
Aut tua voluisset Bilbili Epigrammata Vates,  
Tempora queîs salse liberiora notas;  
Diverso quamvis Genio scripsere hic, & ille,  
Traderet hic Palmam, traderet ille tibi.   

Angl.  
If Plato lived, and saw those Heaven-breathed Lines  
Where thou the Essence of the Soul confines,  
Or merry Marshal read thy Epigrams  
Where sportingly these loser times thou blames;  
Though both excel, yet (in their several ways)  
They both, o'ercome, would yield to thee the Praise.   

Ad D. Thomam Best.  
An quisquam neget hunc foelici sydere natum,  
Qui solet in quo vis Optimus esse loco?   

Angl.  
With happy stars he sure is Blest,  
Wheresoe'er he goes that still is Best.    

To Mistress Katherine Dutton, Daughter of M. Dutton, the worthy Alderman of Chester, lately deceased.  
Anagr. 


Katherine Dutton.  
That kind true one.     

Epigr.  
A Woman kind, that is not True,  
Plays false, and makes her Husband rue:  
If True she be, and nothing Kind,  
She is a Corrosive to his Mind.  
True kindness, and Kind Truth in one,  
Make-up a happy Union.   

Epitaphium Robini.  
Round Robin's gone: And this Grave doth enclose  
The Pudding of his Doublet and his Hose.   

Ad D. johannem Petty, de quodam Male.  
Sit malè (Mal●) tibi, si sis malus, atque molestus,  
Atque malo petus sit Tibi (Male) precor:  
Sin (magè quoth cappo) tu sis bonus, atque benignus,  
Opto ut contingat nil tibi (Male) mali.   

In Fidicinem infidum.  
Non tibi danda fides, Fidicen: discrimine nullo  
Túque fides violas, tu violasque fidem.   

Aliud.  
Qui fidibus ludis, volupe est tibi ludere amicos:  
Est eadem fidei cura fidisque tibi.   

Dominus quidam de se.  
Poscenti soleo nummos irascter: An quod  
Do Minus atque Minas, dicor ego Dominus?   

To M. Christopher Moyser.  
The Friendship, that betwixt us is begun  
For causes just (which we ourselves best know)  
Will for the same I trust on smoothly run,  
And with the time increase, and greater grow.   

Ad Reverendum virum, sibique meritò colendum, Ad D. Hodgson, sacrae Theologiae Doctorem.  Anagr. 


Phineas Hodgsonius, Doctor.  
Dignus Honore dato, poscis.     

Epigr.  
Dignus Honore dato meritò tu poscis Honorem:  
Qui datur indigno, non honor est, at onus.   

Of One that (wearing an Hawthorne in his hat to save him from the thunder) was suspected, upon Examination found to be a Priest, and is now in Prison. In Sacrisicum.  
Albo Sacrificus spino sua tempora cinxit,  
Sic jovis ut sugeret fulmina missa manu:  
Caesaris at non sic effugit fulmina laesi.  
Divisum Imperium cum love Caesar habet.   

Angl.  
A Priest, that he Ioves thunder might not fear,  
An Hawthorn garland on his head did wear:  
Which him from Caesar's thunder could not hide.  
Caesar with jove Dominion doth divide:   

In Eundem.  
Fulmina dum vitas, invitas fulmina demens:  
Interior a Deo, haud exterior a placent.   

Angl.  
While fond thou the Thunder shuns  
Upon the Thunderbolt thou runs:  
For, surely God (whom all should praise)  
Not outward things, but inward please.   

To Mr. john Paget.  
Our Friendship strengthened by continuance,  
And the respect that to thy worth is fit,  
Claim in my Writings this remembrance,  
That each Page should john Paget have in it.   

In Tortum.  
Tortus, accused to lie, to feign, and flatter,  
Said, he but set a good Face on the matter.  
Then sure, he borrowed it: for ('tis well known)  
Tortus ne'er wore a good Face of his own.   

De Seipso.  
Surety, what's that? I to my loss have tried,  
Who for another's Debt too Sure am Tied:  
If this I had Etymologized before,  
I never had been shut within this door.    
FINIS.   

GENERIS SPLENDORE, Doctrina, & Pietate viro praecellenti, D. THOMAE WHARTON, Equiti aurato, D. Philippi Baronis de Wharton, Filio & Haeredi.  

ACcipe, sed placidus, de laude haec carmina Ruris  
(Aulae & nunc ruris, non mediocre decus)  
Dum facili aggredior fiscellam texere hibisco,  
Quae modò dictavit rustica Musa mihi.  
Sic tua (foeminei laus, & nova gloria, sexus)  
Pignoribus ditet te Philadelpha xthori:  
Sicque tuus, pulchrâ pulcher qui ludit in Aulâ,  
Te clara faciat prole Philippus Auum.   

Angl.  
ACcept these Lines, the country's praise that tell  
(O thou the Court's and Country's dear Delight)  
Which, as I Mawnds made in my homely Cell,  
My Country Muse did late to me indite.  
So, let thy Philadelph (her Sex's praise)  
every thee still with Treasures of her bed:  
So, let thy Philip, in thy Hall that plays,  
Thee Grandfire make by Issue fairly spread.   
Virtutum tuarum cultor observantissimus, IOH: ASHMORUS.   

THE PRAISE OF A COUNTRY LIFE. MARTIAL. Lib. 4. Epigram. 90. De Rusticatione.  

ASks thou, i'th' Country how I spend the Day?  
Early, each morning, to the gods I pray.  
My Servants then, and Fields to see I go,  
And every one appoint what work to do.  
This done, I read, and Vows to Phoebus make  
To ease me, and my drooping Muse t'awake.  
My Body then I rub and ore-anoynt,  
And easily stretch-out each Limb and joint,  
Rejoicing in my mind, secure and free  
From debt, and the black books of Usury.  
I dine, I drink, I sing, I wash, I play,  
I sup; then, from my Rest not long do stay:  
Yet, till my Lamp a little Oil do spend,  
Some time I nightly to the Muses lend.   

VIRGIL. Georg. lib. 2. Vitae Rusticae Laus.  

O Happy (if their Happiness they knew)  
Are Husbandmen; to whom, in seasons due  
(Far from Bellona's Rage in bloody Fields)  
The thankful Earth food from her Bosom yields.   

If their proud Gates from each Room belch not out  
Of Smell-feast Parasites a fleering Rout;  
Nor Pillars they desire, that bear on high  
Roofs fairly fretted with Imagery;  
Nor Clothes, where scattered Gold sports interlaced;  
Nor Plate of Corinth curiously enchased;  
Nor their white Fleeces are with Venom foiled;  
Nor self-pure Oil with Slibber-sauces spoiled:   

Yet quiet Rest, and harm-less Lives they have  
So rich of good things, that they need not crave;  
And spacious Grounds, where they do walk at leisure;  
And Caves, and Springs, and Woods, and Groves, for pleasure.  
Their bellowing Oxen, and their bleating Sheep,  
In some cool Shade them summon to sweet Sleep:  
There Forests, and there Dens of wild Beasts are,  
And Youth enduring toil with little Fare;  
There holy Rites, and holy Fathers been:  
Astraea, leaving th' Earth, There last was seen.   

But, first let the sweet Muses (whom above  
All other things I most esteem and love)  
Me entertain their Priest, and to me show  
The Circuits that the heavens and Stars do go,  
The sundr' Eclipses of the Sun and Moon,  
Whence Earthquakes come; what Power the Sea so soon  
(His Bars broke down) makes proudly rage and swell,  
And brings it back, within its Banks to dwell:  
Why Winter-days so fast do run away,  
And why the linger Nights so long do stay.   

But, if dull Blood, congealed about my Hart,  
Forbids me t' undergo this worthy Part  
Of Nature's Worth; Then let the Country please-mee,  
And Rivers (running through the Valleys) ease-mee.  
Then let me love the Woods and Floods unknown.  
O that there were, O that there were but one  
That would me set upon the pleasant Plain,  
By which swift Pirchius doth his Course maintain  
With posting Waters! or on Taget Hill,  
Which Spartan Virgins with mad Shriekings fill  
In Bacchus' Feasts! or, under Hemus Bank,  
Would cover me i'th' Shade of Branches rank!   

he's happy, that the Causes of things knows,  
That vanquisheth, and at his Feet down throws,  
All Cares, and Destinies unappeased Mis-haps,  
And th' hideous Noise of Hel's still-gaping Chaps.   

he's happy too, the Country-gods that knoweth;  
Pan, and Sylvanus (that in Years now groweth)  
And sister-Fairies, tripping on the Lawn.  
He, from his settled Life, will not be drawn  
By Honour's Ensigns, nor by Robes of State,  
Nor by ambitious Thoughts that hatch Debate,  
And faithless Brethren setteth by the Ears;  
Nor Treachery, amazed with doubtful Fears;  
Nor by Rome's Glory (that now beareth Sway)  
Nor Kingdoms, that soon perish and decay.  
He pulingly ne'er mourneth for the Poor,  
Nor him envieth that is rich in Store.  
The Fruit, his Trees and Ground yield willingly,  
He gathers, and he keepeth carefully:  
Nor doth he hard and cruel Laws behold,  
Now brawling Courts, where judgements are inrouled.   

Some, Seas unknown with Oars molest, nor shun  
They murdering Steel: to Princes Courts Some run.  
He Cities sacks, and Matrons makes to weep,  
That he may bowze in Pearl, in Purple sleep.  
From Riches hid, Another seldom flitteth;  
But, on his buried Gold (as brooding) sitteth.  
He, at the Bar struck mute, astonished stands:  
Gaping for Praise, Him Shouts, and Claps of hands  
Ith' Theatre (for, they redoubled be  
By Senators, and the Plebeïty)  
Raise like a Top, and turn-sick make with Pride.  
These Swaggerers hands theirs Brother's blood have died.  
From place to place These still do trudge and range,  
And their sweet Homes for Banishment do change:  
New fangled, from their trusty Friends they run,  
To seek a Place warmed with another Sun.  
The Husbandman with crooked Plough doth not spare  
To stir his Ground. Hence, his Revenues are:  
Hence, to his Country, Scot and Lot he pays:  
Hence, Sust'nance for his Household he doth raise,  
And his young Nephews: Hence, he doth preserve  
His Herds of Beasts; and Steers, that well dezerve.  
Nor will it rest, but th' Year will set abroad  
His Riches, and each Bough with Fruit will load;  
Or great Increase will Cattles cause to yield,  
Or Ceres' Gifts so shed in every Field,  
That scarce the Furrows may their Burden bear,  
And their large Barns asunder that will tear.  
Winter draws on. The Olive-berries than  
They grind in Mills: The Hogs come home again  
Frolic with Mast and Wildings in the Woods.  
And Autumn is no Niggard of his Goods:  
The Vessels he to th' Brims with ripe Grapes fills,  
And presseth them forth on the sunshine Hils.  
Meanwhile, their pretty Babes they hug and kiss:  
Mild Chastity still their Housekeeper is.  
The Kine with strutting Udders come to th' Pail:  
The wanton Kids (i'th' rank Grass, by) assail,  
With Horns new putforth, proudly one another:  
Nor to the Gods, unthankful, doth he smother  
Their Gifts; but keeps his Feasts Solemnities,  
And on the Grass with Flowers embroidered lies;  
Where, in the midst, the Fire they compass round,  
When his Help-fellows quaffing Boawls have crowned:  
Which lightly touched, with Vows he calls on thee,  
O Bacchus. Then he Games, for Mastery,  
In th' Elm to Neat-heards sets: He, that shoots best,  
Must have the Shout and Praise from all the rest.  
Their leather-Pelts put-off, the thick-skin Crew  
Themselves in untaught Wrestling tug and tew.  
Long-since, the ancient Sabines lived thus:  
Thus Remus, and his Brother Romulus:  
Warlick Hetruria thus to Greatness grew:  
Yea, Rome herself (to whom all Nations sue,  
Th' admired Minion of the World) thus rose,  
And in one Wall seven Towers did thus enclose.  
And, long before the Cretian King did reign,  
And cruel People lived by Bullocks slain,  
Good Saturn thus on Earth did spend his Days:  
Fearful Alarms yet men did not raise  
To hateful Wars; nor (on hard Anvils wrought  
With crackling noise) for slaughter Swords were sought.  
But now, i'th' Wilde-goose-Chase o'r-haled with Pains,  
'Tis time to lose my froathing Horses Rains.    

Ex M. Antonio Flaminio, ad Agellum suum. Sic incipit: Vmbrae frigidulae, etc.  

COol Shades, Air-fanning Groves,  
With your soft Whisper,  
Where Pleasure smiling roves  
Through dewy Caves & Springs,  
And baths her purple Wings:   

With Flowers enameled Ground  
(Nature's fair Tapestry)  
Where chattering Birds abound,  
Flickering from Tree to Tree,  
With Change of Melody:   

Sweet Liberty and Leisures,  
Where still the Muses keep,  
O! if to those true Treasures,  
That from your Bosoms peep,  
I might securely creep:   

If I might spend my Days  
(Remote from public Brawls)  
Now tuning lovely Lays,  
Now lightfoot Madrigals,  
Ne'er checked with sudden Calls:   

Now follow Sleep that goes  
Rustling i'th' green-wood Shade;  
Now milk my Goat, that knows  
(With her young fearful Cade)  
The Pail i'th' coolly Glade,   

And with Boawls filled to th' Brims  
Of milky Moisture new,  
To water my dried Limbs,  
And t' all the wrangling Crew  
Of Cares to bid, Adieu;   

What Life then should I lead!  
How like then would it be  
Unto the Gods, that tread  
Ith' starry Gallery  
Of true Felicity!   

But you, O Virgins sweet,  
In Helicon that dwell,  
That oft the Fountains greet,  
When you the Pleasures tell  
Ith' Country that excel:   

If I my Life, though dear,  
For your far dearer sake,  
To yield would nothing fear;  
From city's Tumults take-mee,  
And free i'th' Country make-mee.    
FINIS.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSIPfull, Sr. RICHARD HUTTON, Knight, one of his Majesty's justices in the Court of Common Pleas.  

IF my Hope's harvest, Worthy Sir, had not  
Been blasted with the Breath of dull Despair,  
My Muse (ne'er branded with the hateful blot  
Of cheap Ingratitude, freed from base Care)  
The Tribute of her Love (for Causes just)  
Would not so long have smothered in the Dust.   

Yet looks She for one Sunshine Day: Mean while,  
Accept these Glean, gathered in the Fields  
Of good Freeholders', in the blessed I'll,  
Where each one shows (as his Affection yields)  
Who is most blessed: which none can better tell,  
Then the sweet Singer doth of Israel.   
Your Worships, in his best endeavours to command, IOH: ASHMORE.   

OF A BLESSED LIFE. MARTIALIS, ad seipsum, vel potius ad julium Martialem. Lib. 10. Epigr. 47.  

O Merry Martial, I mistake,  
A happy Life if these not make;  
Riches bequeathed, not got by toil,  
A fire ne'er out, no barren Soil,  
No Strife, seld ' Office, a Mind found  
Still calm, fit Strength, a Body sound,  
Wise Smpleness, Friends equal bred,  
No costly Fare, a Board soon spread,  
Nights never drunk, but from Cares free,  
A gamesome Bed with Modesty,  
Sleep making Darkness short to be.  
Be with thy State Content: so stay:  
Wish not, nor fear, thy Fatall-Day.   

Strigillius contra Martialem.  
O Trifling Marshal, 'tis most sure  
That these things a blessed Life procure:  
Sense of our Sin, an Heart relenting,  
Grief for our errors, Tears repenting,  
And Faith, that saving Health embraceth.  
For, he that on this sure Rock placeth  
His ne'r-shaked Faith, that Christ alone  
(True God) our Nature hath put-on,  
And Us (marked with Death's blackest Letters,  
Unto eternal Chains and Fetters)  
Hath ransomed with his dearest Blood,  
And 'twixt God's Wrath and Us hath stood:  
In Heaven he shall ('mong Heroës' blessed)  
Crowned with unblasted Bays still rest.  
Perhaps, thou'lt say; These words are blunt;  
Nor Romans so to speak are wont.  
O trifling Martial, 'tis most sure,  
That these things a blessed Life procure.   

Georg. Fabricius.  
THese things true Happiness do teach,  
At which well-minded Christians reach:  
God rightly and thyself to know,  
And what thou dost thy Neighbour owe;  
A temperate Tongue, chaste Speech, Heart pure,  
A cheerful Giver's Hand to th' Poor,  
A Life with small, and 's own Content,  
Unstained Faith, and Love permanent,  
A Mind with good Success not drunk,  
Nor with disastrous chances shrunk,  
But which good Hope keeps, and makes bold  
His Saviour Christ still to behold.   

Ad Martialem. Lib. 5. Epigr. 21.  
IF that with thee, dear Martial, I might  
Securely spend my days as I desire:  
If vacant time we might dispose aright,  
And at the last to a true life retire;  
No Prince's Courts, nor houses would we know  
Of mighty men, nor irksome suits would try,  
Nor unto greedy Lawyers would we go,  
Nor poare on a proud worm-gnawn Pedigree:  
But, a well-penned, and lively acted Scene,  
Small Brooks, Fields, Walks, fair Damsels, Baths and Shades,  
Should be the Labours we would entertain,  
Should be the Shops wherein we still would trade.  
Now, neither of us lives t' himself (Alas!)  
But doth perceive with grief of mind, and see  
How fair Suns rise, and how away they pass  
Fruit-less to us, for which we blamed be.  
Doth not a man, to live that knows the way,  
Cutoff encumbrances that thence him stay?   

Marcus Antonius Flaminius, ad Steph. Saulum: Sic incipiens. Ne tu beatum dixeris▪ etc.  
THink not (good Saul) that he is blest  
Through Cities stately Gates that goes,  
With swarms of crouching Suitors pressed,  
And noble Peers that him in close.  
No, not if in high-rooft Barns he  
Fair Africa's fertile Harvests hold,  
And Gems, and polished Ivory  
Possess, and ruddy heaps of Gold.  
Nor he the secret Seals that opes  
Of Causes; or by skill profound  
Mounts to the Stars, or by Wit gropes  
To find the Treasures hid i'th' Ground:  
But him thou Blessed well mayst call.  
That rightly doth his God adore,  
And from his Precepts doth not fall,  
But them than Gold esteemeth more.  
He's not puft-up with people's Praise;  
But, still God's Praise to him is dear:  
Which to maintain and more to raise,  
Reproaches he doth willing bear.  
And often, from Earth's Cares set free,  
His happy Soul to Heaven ascends;  
Where it enjoys the Deïtie,  
And parleys with celestial Friends.  
And so, full fraught with heavenly joy,  
Unto an higher pitch he riseth  
Than worldly Dangers can annoy,  
And men's mad purposes despiseth.  
The Shepherd so, from peril fare,  
As he secure lies in his Cave,  
Beholds the sturdy Winds at war  
With Seas, that proudly swell and rave,   

Lipsijs laus, & vota Vitae beatae.  
he's like the gods, and higher than  
The rest-less Race of mortal Men,  
That wisheth not, or (in despair)  
The doubtful Day of Death doth fear.  
In whom Ambition doth not reign,  
That is not vexed with hope of Gain,  
That trembles not at Threats of Kings,  
Nor Darts that angry jove down flings:  
But, firmly seated in one Place,  
Vulgar Delights doth scorn, as base:  
That of his Life one Tenor keeps;  
Secure that wakes, secure that sleeps.  
If I might live at mine own pleasure,  
I would no Office seek, nor Treasure;  
Nor captive Troops should me attend,  
As to my Chariot I ascend,  
Drawn by white Steeds, with Shouts and Cries;  
A Spectacle to gazing Eyes.  
In Places I remote would be:  
Gardens and Fields should solace me:  
There, at the bubbling waters noise,  
I with the Muses would rejoice.  
So, when my Lachesis hath spun  
The thread of Life, she well drew on;  
Not unto any man a Foe,  
I full of Years from hence would go,  
And Date my days in quiet state,  
As my good Langius did of late.   


Psalmus Primus DAVIDIS. Beatus vir, etc.  
HEe happy is, amongst the brainsick Crew  
Of ill-advising men, that doth not walk;  
Nor the lewd Path of wicked men pursue,  
Of holy things that dare profanely talk;  
Nor in the Scorners chair sits (swollen with Pride)  
That God contemn, and Godliness deride.   

But he seeks-out farrebetter Ways to tread,  
Led (in the winding Labyrinth of this Life)  
By his Creator's Laws, as a sure thread  
That guides him through cross-ways of worldly Strife.  
By it, his Words and Actions he doth frame:  
Early and late he thinks upon the fame.   

he's like a thick-leaved tree, that planted is  
By the green Bank of some smooth-gliding Stream,  
That with his fruitful arms stretcht-forth doth bliss  
The Labourers Pains: which Phoebus with his beam  
Doth ne'er so search, nor Winter's rage can stay,  
But yearly Rent she to her Lord will pay.   

So shall not the ungodly and unkind  
Despisers of God's Statutes and his Grace,  
That (with themselves at war) no Rest can find;  
But, like the Chaf, are tossed from place to place  
With every sudden blast of Wind that bloweth,  
Which scorns their lightness, and to Heaven it showeth.   

For, when the just judge comes in a bright Cloud,  
Circled with Angels, clothed with Majesty,  
The wicked (daunted) will cry-out aloud,  
Casshierd from Saints for their impiety.  
For, as in good men's Ways God takes Delight,  
So he o'r-throwes all wicked Byways quite.    
FINIS.