THE MUSES ELYSIUM, Lately discovered, BY A NEW WAY OVERDO PARNASSUS.  
The passages therein, being the subject of ten sundry Nymphalls, Leading three Divine Poems,  
NOAH'S Flood.  
MOSES, his Birth and Miracles.  
DAVID and GOLIA.  
By MICHAEL DRAYTON Esquire.  
LONDON, ¶ Printed by Thomas Harper, for john Waterson, and are to be sold at the sign of the Crown in Paul's Churchyard. 1630.   

TO THE RIGHT HOnourable, EDWARD Earl of DORSET, Knight of the Noble Order of the Garter, of his Majesty's Privy Counsel, and Lord chamberlain to her Majesty.  
My most honoured Lord,  
I Have ever found that constancy in your Favours, since your first acknowledging of me, that their durableness have now made me one of your family, and I am become happy in the title to be called Yours: That for Retribution, could I have found a fitter way to publish your Bounties, my thankfulness before this, might have found it out; I crave of your Lordship the patronage of my ELYSIUM, which if the Muse fail me not, shall not be altogether unworthy of your protection; I have often adventured upon desperate untrodden ways, which hath drawn some severe censures, upon many of my Labours, but that neither hath, nor can ever trouble me; The divine Poems in this small volume inserted, I consecreate to your Religious Countess, my most worthy Lady. And so I rest  
The honourer of you, and your noble Family, MICHAEL DRAYTON.   

To the Reader:  
DIscreet and judicious Reader, (if my Friend, whosoever) let me ingeniously intreal thee, that in reading these Poems, thou wilt be pleased patiently to correct some faults, that partly by reason of the raggedness of the written Copy, and partly by our over sight have escaped in the Press, which if thou shalt do, the Muses themselves, as they are courteous and well educated virgins, shall in their thankfulness inspire thee with some Poetic rapture, that thou shalt read them with more delight, than otherwise thou shouldest in being over Critical. Some of which faults (I dare not say all) I have heereunder set down.   

Errata.  
PAge 6. line 1. for, that th'one the other was, read, that th'one of them the other was. p. 9 1. 8. for, she would not outstrip a Roe, read, she would outstrip a Roe. p. 10. l. 17. for we, read were. p. 34. l. 21. for that, read thou. p. 125. l. 36. for, and l'st must, read, and l'st must die. p. 137. l. 25. for through, read though. p. 172. l. 14. for made them to prepare, read, their deserved fare.  
But this last fault is not through all the Impression.  
I only show you these few, for brevity sake, that in your Reading you may correct the like, which I am afraid are many more than these.   

THE DESCRIPTION of ELYSIUM.  

A Paradise on earth is found,  
Though far from vulgar sight,  
Which with those pleasures doth abound  
That it Elysium hight.   

Where, in Delights that never fade,  
The Muses lulled be,  
And sit at pleasure in the shade  
Of many a stately tree,   

Which no rough Tempest makes to reel  
Nor their strait bodies bows,  
Their lofty tops do never feel  
The weight of winter's snows;   

In Groves that evermore are green,  
No falling leaf is there,  
But Philomela (of birds the Queen)  
In Music spends the year.   

The Merle upon her myrtle Perch,  
There to the Mavis sings,  
Who from the top of some curled Berch  
Those notes redoubled rings;   

There Daysyes' damask every place  
Nor once their beauties lose,  
That when proud Phoebui hides his face  
Themselves they scorn to close.   

The Pansy and the Violet here,  
As seeming to descend,  
Both from one Root, a very pair,  
For sweetness yet contend,   

And pointing to a Pink to tell  
Which bears it, it is loath,  
To judge it; but replies, for smell  
That it excels them both,   

Wherewith displeased they hang their heads  
So angry soon they grow  
And from their odoriferous beds  
Their sweets at it they throw.   

The winter here a Summer is,  
No waste is made by time,  
Nor doth the Autumn ever miss  
The blossoms of the Prime.   

The flower that july forth doth bring  
In April here is seen,  
The Primrose that puts on the Spring  
In july decks each Greene.   

The sweets for sovereignty contend  
And so abundant be,  
That to the very Earth they lend  
And Bark of every Tree:   

Rills rising out of every Bank,  
In wild Meanders strain,  
And playing many a wanton prank  
Upon the speckled plain,   

In Gambols and lascivious Gires  
Their time they still bestow  
Nor to their Fountains none retires,  
Nor on their course will go   

Those Brooks with Lilies bravely decked,  
So proud and wanton made,  
That they their courses quite neglect:  
And seem as though they stayed,   

Fair Flora in her state to view  
Which through those Lilies looks,  
Or as those Lilies leaned to show  
Their beauties to the brooks.   

That Phoebus in his losty race,  
Oft lays aside his beams  
And comes to cool his glowing face  
In these delicious streams;   

Oft spreading Vines climb up the Cleeves,  
Whose ripened clusters there,  
Their liquid purple drop, which drives  
A Vintage through thee year.   

Those Cleeves whose craggy sides are clad  
With Trees of sundry suits,  
Which make continual summer glad,  
Even bending with their fruits,   

Some ripening, ready some to fall,  
Some blossomed, some to bloom,  
Like gorgeous hangings on the wall  
Of some rich princely Room:   

Pomegranates, Lemons, Citrons, so  
Their jaded branches bow,  
Their leaves in number that outgo  
Nor roomth will them allow.   

There in perpetual Summer's shade,  
Apollo's Prophets sit  
Among the flowers that never fade,  
But flourish like their wit;   

To whom the Nymphs upon their Lyres,  
Tune many a curious lay,  
And with their most melodious Quires  
Make short the longest day.   

The thrice three Virgins heavenly Clear,  
Their trembling Timbrels sound,  
Whilst the three comely Graces there  
Dance many a dainty Round,   

Decay nor Age there nothing knows,  
There is continual Youth,  
As Time on plant or creatures grows,  
So still their strength renewth.   

The Poet's Paradise this is,  
To which but few can come;  
The Muses only bower of bliss  
Their Dear Elysium.   

Here happy souls, (their blessed bowers,  
Free from the rude resort  
Of beastly people) spend the hours,  
In harmless mirth and sport,   

Then on to the Elysian plains  
Apollo doth invite you  
Where he provides with pastoral strains,  
In Nimphals to delight you   

The first Nimphall.  
RHODOPE and DORIDA:  

This Nimphall of delights doth treat,  
Choice beauties, and proportions neat,  
Of curious shapes, and dainty features  
Describd in two most perfect creatures.   

WHen Phoebus with a face of mirth,  
Had flung a broad his beams,  
To blanche the bosom of the earth,  
And glaze the gliding streams.  
within a goodly Myrtle grove.  
Upon that hallowed day  
The Nymphs to the bright Queen of love  
Their vows were used to pay.  
Fair Rhodope and Dorida  
Met in those sacred shades,  
Than whom the Sun in all his way,  
Near saw two daintier Maids.  
And through the thickets thrilled his fires,  
Supposing to have seen  
The sovereign Goddess of desires,  
Or loves Imperious Queen:  
Both of so wondrous beauties were,  
In shape both so excel,  
That to be paralleled else where,  
No judging eye could tell.  
And their affections so surpass,  
As well it might be deemed,  
That th'one the other was,  
And but themselves they seemed.  
And whilst the Nymphs that near this place,  
Disposed were to play  
At Barleybreak and Prison-base,  
Do pass the time away:  
This peerless pair together set,  
The other at their sport,  
None near their free discourse to let,  
Each other thus they court,   Dorida. 

My sweet, my sovereign Rhodope,  
My dear delight, my love,  
That Lock of hair thou sent'st to me,  
I to this Bracelet wove;  
Which brighter every day doth grow  
The longer it is worn,  
As its delicious fellows do,  
Thy Temples that adorn.   Rhodope. 

Nay had I thine my Dorida,  
I would them so bestow,  
As that the wind upon my way,  
Might backward make them flow,  
So should it in its greatest excess,  
Turn to becalmed 〈◊〉  
And quite forget all boistrousnesse  
To play with every hair.   Dorida. 

To me like thine had nature given,  
A Brow, so Arched, so clear,  
A Front, wherein so much of heaven  
Doth to each eye appear,  
The world should see, I would strike dead  
The Milky way that's now,  
And say that Nectar Hebe shed  
Fell all upon my Brow.   Rhodope. 

O had I eyes like Doriddes,  
I would enchant the day,  
And make the Sun to stand at gaze,  
Till he forgot his way:  
And cause his Sister Queen of Streams,  
When so I list by night;  
By her much blushing at my Beams  
T' eclipse her borrowed light.   Dorida. 

Had I a Cheek like Rodopes,  
In midst of which doth stand,  
A Grove of Roses, such as these,  
In such a snowy land:  
I would make the Lily which we now  
So much for whiteness name,  
As drooping down the head to bow,  
And die for very shame.   Rhodope. 

Had I a bosom like to thine,  
When it I pleased to show,  
TO what part o'th' Sky I would incline  
I would make th' Etherial bow;  
My swannish Breast branched all with blue,  
In bravery like the spring:  
In Winter to the general view  
Full Summer forth should bring.   Dorida. 

Had I a body like my dear,  
Were I so strait so tall,  
O, if so broad my shoulders were,  
Had I a waste so small;  
I would challenge the proud Queen of love  
To yield to me for shape,  
And I should fearo that Mars or 〈◊〉  
Would venture for my rape.   Rhodope. 

Had I a hand like thee my 〈◊〉  
(This hand O let me kiss)  
These Ivory Arrows piled with pearl,  
Had I a hand like this;  
I would not doubt at all to make,  
Each finger of my hand  
To task swift Mercury to take  
With his enchanting wand.   Dorida. 

Had I a Theigh like Rodopes;  
Which 'twas my chance to view,  
When lying on you bank at 〈◊〉  
The wind thy skirt up blew,  
I would say it were a column wrought  
To some intent Divine,  
And for our chaste Diana sought,  
A pillar for her shrine.   Rhodope. 

Had I a Leg but like to thine  
That were so neat, so clean,  
A swelling Calse, a Small so fine,  
An Ankle, round and lean,  
I would tell nature she doth miss  
Her old skill; and maintain,  
She showed her master piece in this,  
Not to be done again.   Dorida. 

Had I that Foot hid in those shoes,  
(Proportioned to my height)  
Short Heel, thin Instep, even Toes,  
A Sole so'wondrous strait,  
The Foresters and Nymphs at this  
Amazed all should stand,  
And kneeling down, should meekly kiss  
The Print left in the sand.   

BY this the Nymphs came from their sport,  
All pleased wondrous well,  
And to these May dens make report  
What lately them befell:  
One said the dainty Lelipa  
Did all the rest out give,  
Another would a wager lay  
She would not outstrip a Roe;  
Says one, how like ye Florimell  
There is your dainty face:  
A fourth replied, she liked that well,  
Yet better liked her grace,  
She's counted, I confess, quoth she,  
To be our only Pearl,  
Yet have I heard her oft to be  
A melancholy Girl.  
Another said she quite mistoke,  
That only was her art,  
When melancholy had her look  
Then mirth was in her heart;  
And hath she then that pretty trick  
Another doth reply,  
I thought no Nymph could have been sick  
Of that disease but I;  
I know you can dissemble well  
Quoth one to give you due,  
But here be some (who I'll not tell)  
Can do't as well as you,  
Who thus replies, I know that too,  
We have it from our Mother,  
Yet there be some this thing can do  
More cunningly than other:  
If Maidens but dissembse can  
Their sorrow and their joy,  
Their poor dissimulation than,  
Is but a very toy.    

The second Nimphall.  
LALUS CLEON. and LIROPE.  

The Muse new Courtship doth devose,  
By Nature's strange Varieties,  
Whose Rarities she here relates,  
And gives you Pastoral Delicates.   

LAlus a jolly youthful Lad,  
With Cleon, no less crowned  
With virtues; both their beings had  
On the Elysian ground.  
Both having parts so excellent,  
That it a question was,  
Which should be the most eminent,  
Or did in aught surpass:  
This Cleon was a Mountaineer,  
And of the wilder kind,  
And from his birth had many a 〈◊〉  
Been nursed up by a Hind:  
And as the sequel well did show,  
It very well might be;  
For never Hart, nor Hare, nor Roe,  
We half so switft as he.  
But Lalus in the Vale was bred,  
Amongst the Sheep and Neat,  
And by those Nymphs there choicly fed,  
With Honey, Milk, and Wheat;  
Of Stature goodly, fair of speech,  
And of behaviour mild,  
Like those there in the Valley rich,  
That bred him of a child.  
Of Falconry they had the skill,  
Their Halkes to seed and fly,  
No better Hunters ere clome Hill,  
Nor hollowed to a Cry:  
In Dingles' deep, and Mountains hore,  
Oft with the bearded Spear  
They cumbated the tusky Boar,  
And slew the angry Bear.  
In Music they were wondrous acquaint,  
Fine Aers they could devose;  
They very curiously could Paint,  
And neatly Poetize;  
That wagers many time were laid  
On Questions that arose,  
Which Song the witty Lalus made,  
Which Cleon should compose.  
The stately Steed they managed well,  
Of Fence the art they knew,  
For Dancing they did all excel  
The Girls that to them drew;  
To throw the Sledge, to pitch the Bar,  
To wrestle and to Run,  
They all the Youth excelled so far,  
That still the Prize they won.  
These sprightly Gallants loved a Lass,  
Called Lirope the bright,  
In the whole world there scarcely was  
So delicate a Wight,  
There was no Beauty so divine  
That ever Nymph did grace,  
But it beyond itself did shine  
In her more heavenly face:  
What form she pleased each thing would take  
That ere she did behold,  
Of Pebbles she could Diamonds make,  
Gross Iron turn to Gold:  
Such power there with her presence came  
Stern Tempests she allayed,  
The cruel Tigar she could tame,  
She raging Torrents stayed,  
She chid, she cherished, she gave life,  
Again she made to dye,  
She raised a war, appeased a Strife,  
With turning of her eye.  
Some said a God did her beget,  
But much deceived were they,  
Her Father was a Rivelet,  
Her Mother was a Fay.  
Her Lineaments so fine that were,  
She from the Fairy took,  
Her Beauties and Complexion clear,  
By nature from the Brook.  
These Ryvalls waiting for the hour  
(The weather calm and fair)  
When as she used to leave her Bower  
To take the pleasant air.  
Acosting her; their compliment  
To her their Goddess done;  
By gifts they tempt her to consent,  
When Lalus thus begun.   Lalus. 

Sweet Lirope I have a Lamb  
Newly waned from the Dam,  
Of the right kind, it is 
* Without bornes.  knotted,  
Naturally with purple spotted,  
Into laughter it will put you,  
To see how prettily 'twill But you;  
When on sporting it is set,  
It will beat you a Corvet,  
And at every nimble bound  
Turn itself above the ground;  
When 'tis hungry it will bleat,  
From your hand to have its meat,  
And when it hath fully fed,  
It will fetch jumps above your head,  
As innocently to express  
Its silly sheepish thankfulness,  
When you bid it, it will play,  
Be it either night or day,  
This Lirope I have for thee,  
So thou alone wilt live with me.   Cleon. 

From him O turn thine care away,  
And hear me my loved Lirope,  
I have a Kid as white as milk,  
His skin as soft as Naples silk,  
His horns in length are wondrous even,  
And curiously by nature writhe;  
It is of th'Arcadian kind,  
there's not the like 'twixt either Ind;  
If you walk, 'twill walk you by,  
If you sit down, it down will lie,  
It with gesture will you woo,  
And counterfeit those things you do;  
o'er each Hillock it will vault,  
And nimbly do the Summer-sault,  
Upon the hinder Legs'twill go,  
And follow you a furlong so,  
And if by chance a Tune you roate,  
'Twill foot it finely to your note,  
Seek the world and you may miss  
To find out such a thing as this;  
This my love I have for thee  
So thou'lt leave him and go with me.   Lirope. 

Believe me Youths your gifts are rare,  
And you offer wondrous fair;  
Lalus for Lamb, Cleon for kid,  
'Tis hard to judge which most doth bid,  
And have you two such things in store,  
And I ne'er knew of them before?  
Well yet I dare a Wager lay  
That Brag my little Dog shall play,  
As dainty tricks when I shall bid,  
As Lalus Lamb, or Cleon's Kid.  
But 'tmay fall out that I may need them  
Till when ye may do well to feed them;  
Your Goat and Mutton pretty be  
But Youths these are no baits for me,  
Alas good men, in vain ye woo,  
'Tis not your Lamb nor Kid will do.   Lalus. 

I have two Sparrows white as Snow,  
Whose pretty eyes like sparks do show;  
In her Bosom Venus hatched them  
Where her little Cupid watched them,  
Till they too fledge their Nests forsook  
Themselves and to the Fields betook,  
Where by chance a Fowler caught them  
Of whom I full dear bought them;  
They'll fetch you Conserve from the 
* The red fruit of the sinooth Bramble.  Hip,  
And lay it softly on your Lip,  
Through their nibbling bills they'll Chirup  
And fluttering feed you with the Sirup,  
And if thence you put them by  
They to your white neck will fly,  
And if you expulse them there  
They'll hang upon your braded Hair;  
You so long shall see them prattle  
Till at length they'll fall to battle,  
And when they have fought their fill,  
You will smile to see them bill  
These Birds my Lirope's shall be  
So thou'llt leave him and go with me.   Cleon. 

His Sparrows are not worth a rush  
I'll find as good in every bush,  
Of Doves I have a dainty pair  
Which when you please to take the Air,  
About your head shall gently hover  
Your Clear brow from the Sun to cover,  
And with their nimble wings shall sand you,  
That neither Cold nor Heat shall tan you,  
And like Vmbrellas with their feathers  
Shield you in all sorts of weathers:  
They be most dainty Coloured things,  
They have Damask backs and Chequerd wings,  
Their necks more Various Colours show  
Then there be mixed in the Bow;  
Venus saw the lesser Dove  
And therewith was far in Love,  
Offering fort her golden Ball  
for her Son to play withal;  
These my Liropes shall be  
So she'll leave him and go with me.   Lirope. 

Then for Sparrows, and for Doves  
I am fitted 'twixt my Loves,  
But Lalus, I take no delight  
In Sparowes, for they'll scratch and bite  
And though joined, they are ever wooing  
Always billing if not doing,  
'twixt Venus' breasts if they have lain  
I much fear they'll infect mine;  
Cleon your Doves are very dainty,  
Tame Pigeons else you know are plenty,  
These may win some of your Marrows  
I am not caught with Doves, nor Sparrows,  
I thank ye kindly for your Coste,  
Yet your labour is but lost.   Lalus. 

With full-leaued Lilies I will stick  
Thy braded hair all o'er so thick,  
That from it a Light shall throw  
Like the Suns upon the Snow.  
Thy Mantle shall be Violet Leaves,  
With the finest the Silkworm weaves  
As finly Woven; whose rich smell  
The Air about thee so shall swell  
That it shall have no power to move.  
A Ruff of Pinks thy Robe above  
About thy neck so neatly set  
that Art it cannot counterfeit,  
Which still shall look so Fresh and new,  
As if upon their Roots they grew:  
And for thy head I'll have a Tyer  
Of netting, made of Stawbery wire,  
And in each knot that doth compose  
A Mesh, shall stick a half blown Rose,  
Red, damask, white, in order set  
About the sides, shall run a Fret  
Of Primroses, the Tyer throughout  
With Thirst and Daysyes frindgd about;  
All this fair Nymph I'll do for thee,  
So thou'lt leave him and go with me.   Cleon. 

These be but weeds and Trash he brings,  
I'll give thee solid, costly things,  
His will whither and be gone  
Before thou well canst put them on;  
With Coral I will have thee Crowned,  
Whose Branches intricately wound  
Shall gird thy Temples every way;  
And on the top of every Spray  
Shall stick a Pearl orient and great,  
Which so the wand'ring Birds shall cheat,  
That some shall stoop to look for Cherries,  
As other for tralucent Berries.  
And wondering, caught e'er they be ware  
In the curled Trammels of thy hair:  
And for thy neck a Crystal Chain  
Whose links shaped like to drops of Rain,  
Upon thy panting Breast depending,  
Shall seem as they were still descending,  
And as thy breath doth comeand go,  
So seeming still to ebb and flow:  
With Amber Bracelets cut like Bees,  
Whose strange transparancy who sees,  
With Silk small as the Spiders Twist  
Doubled so oft about thy Wrist,  
Would surely think alive they were,  
From Lilies gathering honey there.  
Thy Buskins Ivory, carved like Shells  
Of Scallope, which as litlte Bells  
Made hollow, with the Air shall Chime,  
And to thy steps shall keep the time:  
Leave Lalus, Lirope for me  
And these shall thy rich dowry be.   Lirope. 

Lalus for Flowers 〈◊〉 for gems,  
For Garlands and for Diadems  
I shall be sped, why this is brave,  
What Nymph can choicer Presents have,  
With dressing, brading, frowncing, flowering,  
All your lewels on me pouring,  
In this bravery being dressed,  
To the ground I shall be pressed,  
That I doubt the Nymphs will fear me,  
Nor will venture to come near me;  
Never Lady of the May,  
To this hour was half so gay;  
All in flowers, all so sweet,  
From the Grown, beneath the Feet,  
Amber, Coral, Ivory, Pearl,  
If this cannot win a Girl,  
there's nothing can, and 〈◊〉 ye woo me,  
Give me your hands and trust ye to me,  
(Yet to tell ye I am loath)  
That I'll have neither of you both;   Lalus. 

When thou shalt please to stem the flood.  
(As thou art of the watery brood)  
I'll have twelve Swans more white than Snow,  
Yokd for the purpose two and two,  
To 〈◊〉 thy Barge wrought of fine Reed  
So well that it nought else shall need,  
The Traces by which they shall hail  
Thy Barge; shall be the winding trail  
Of woodbynd; whose brave Tasseled Flowers  
(The Sweetness of the Woodnimphs Bowers)  
Shall be the Trappings to adorn,  
The Swans, by which thy Barge is borne,  
Of flowered Flags I'll rob the bank  
Of water-Cans and King-cups rank  
To be the Covering of thy Boat,  
And on the Stream as thou dost Float,  
The Naiads that haunt the deep,  
Themselves about thy Barge shall keep,  
Recording most delightful Lays,  
By Sea Gods written in thy praise.  
And in what place thou hapst to land,  
There the gentle Siluery sand,  
Shall soften, curled with the Air  
As sensible of thy rep ire:  
This my dear love I'll do for thee,  
So Thou'lt leave him and go with me.   Cleon. 

Tush Nymph his Swans will prove but Geese,  
His Barge drink water like a Fleece;  
A Boat is base, I'll thee provide,  
A Chariot, wherein love may ride;  
In which when bravely thou art borne,  
Thou shalt look like the glorious morn  
Ushering the Sun, and such a one  
As to this day was never none,  
Of the Rarest Indian Gums,  
More precious than your Balsamummes  
Which I by Art have made so hard,  
That they with Tools may well be Carved  
To make a Coach of: which shall be  
Materyalls of this one for thee,  
And of thy Chariot each small piece  
Shall inlaid be with Amber Greece,  
And guilded with the Yellow ore  
Produced from Tagus' wealthy shore;  
In which along the pleasant Lawn,  
With twelve white Stags thou shalt be drawn,  
Whose branched palms of a stately height,  
With several nosegays shall be dight;  
And as thou ryd'st, thy Coach about,  
For thy strong guard shall run a Rout,  
Of Estriges; whose Curled plumes,  
Sen'sd with thy Chariots rich perfumes,  
The scent into the Air shall throw;  
Whose naked Thighs shall grace the show;  
Whilst the Woodnimphs and those bred  
Upon the mountains, or thy head  
Shall bear a Canopy of flowers,  
Tinseled with drops of April showers,  
Which shall make more glorious shows  
Then spangles, or your silver Oas;  
This brightnimph I'll do for thee  
So thou'lt leave him and go with me.   Lirope. 

Vie and revie, like Chapmen proffered,  
will't be received what you have offered;  
The greater honour cannot do me,  
If not building Altars to me:  
Both by Water and by Land,  
Barge and Chariot 〈◊〉 command;  
Swans upon the Stream to tawe me,  
Stags upon the Land to draw me,  
In all this Pomp should I be seen,  
What a poor thing were a Queen:  
All delights in such excess,  
As but ye, who can express:  
Thus mounted should the Nymphs me see,  
All the troop would follow me,  
Thinking by this state that I  
Would assume a Deity.  
There be some in love have been,  
And I may commit that sin,  
And if e'er I be in love,  
With one of you I fear 'twill prove,  
But with which I cannot tell,  
So my gallant Youths farewell.    

The third Nimphall.  
DORON NAIIS CLORIS CLAIA DORILUS CLOE MERTILLA FLORIMELL. With Nymphs and Foresters.  

Poetic Raptures, sacred fires,  
With which, Apollo his inspires,  
This Nimphall gives you; and withal  
Observes the Muse's Festival.   

AMongst th' Elizians many mirthful Feasts,  
At which the Muses are the certain guests,  
Th'obserue one Day with most Imperial state,  
To wise Apollo which they dedicate,  
The Poet's God, and to his Altars bring  
Th'enameled Bravery of the beauteous spring,  
And strew their Bowers with every precious sweet,  
Which still wax fresh, most trod on with their feet;  
With most choice flowers each Nymph doth brade her hair,  
And not the meanest but bauldrick wife doth wear  
Some goodly Garland, and the most renowned  
With curious Roseate Anadems are crowned.  
These being come into the place where they  
Yearly observe the Orgies to that day,  
The Muses from their Heliconian spring  
Their brimful Mazer's to the feasting bring:  
When with deep Draughts out of those plenteous Bowls,  
The jocund Youth have swill their thirsty souls,  
They shall enraged with a sacred heat,  
And when their brains do once begin to sweat  
They into brave and Stately numbers break,  
And not a word that any one doth speak  
But 'tis Prophetic, and so strangely far  
In their high fury they transported are,  
As there's not one, on any thing can strain,  
But by another answered is again  
In the same Rapture, which all sit to hear;  
When as two Youths that sound liquored were,  
Dorilus and Doron, two as noble swayns  
As ever kept on the Elysian plains,  
First by their signs attention having won,  
Thus they the Revels frolikly begun.   Doron. 

Come Dorilus, let us be brave,  
Inlofty numbers let us rave,  
With Rymes I will enrich thee.   Dorilus. 

Content say I, then bid the base,  
Our wits shall run the Wild-goose chase,  
Spur up, or I will switch thee.   Doron. 

The Sun out of the East doth peep,  
And now the day begins to creep,  
Upon the world at leisure.   Dorilus. 

The Air enamoured of the 〈◊〉  
The West wind strokes the velvit leaves  
And kisses them at pleasure.   Doron. 

The Spinner's webs 'twixt spray and spray,  
The too of every bush make gay,  
By filmy coards there dangling.   Dorilus. 

For now the last day's evening dew  
Even to the full itself doth show,  
Each bough with Pearl bespangling.   Doron. 

O Boy how thy abundant vain  
Even like a Flood breaks from thy brain,  
Nor can thy Muse be gauged.   Dorilus. 

Why nature forth did never bring  
A man that like to me can sing,  
If once I be enraged.   Doron. 

Why Dorilus I in my skill  
Can make the swiftest Stream stand still,  
Nay bear back to his springing.   Dorilus. 

And I into a Trance most deep  
Can cast the Birds that they shall sleep  
When feign'st they would be singing.   Doron. 

Why Dorilus thou mak'st me mad,  
And now my wits begin to gad,  
But sure I know not whither.   Dorilus. 

O Doron let me hug thee then,  
There never was two madder men,  
Then let us on together.   Doron. 

Hermes the winged Horse bestrid,  
And thorough thick and thin he rid,  
And floundred throw the Fountain.   Dorilus. 

He 〈◊〉 the Tit until he bled,  
So that at last he ran his head  
Against the sorked Mountain,   Doron. 

How sayst thou, but pied Iris got;  
Into great junos' Chariot,  
I spoke with one that saw her.   Dorilus. 

And there the pert and saucy Elfd  
Behaned her as 'twere Juno's self,  
And made the Peacocks draw her.   Doron. 

He borrow Phoebus fiery lads,  
With which about the world he trades,  
And put them in my Blow.   Dorilus. 

O thou most perfect frantic man,  
Yet let thy rage be what it can,  
I'll be as mad as thou.   Doron. 

I'll to great love, hap good, hap ill,  
Though he with Thunder threat to kill,  
And beg of him aboove.   Dorilus. 

To swerve up one of Cynthia's 〈◊〉  
And there to bathe thee in the streams,  
Discoverdin the Moon.   Doron. 

Come frohck Youth and follow me,  
My frantic boy, and I'll show thee  
The Country of the Fairies,   Dorilus. 

The fleshy Mandrake where's doth grew  
In noonshade of the Mistletow,  
And where the Phoenix Aryes.   Doron. 

Nay more, the Swallowet winter 〈◊〉  
The Caverns where the Winds are bred,  
Since thus thou talk'st of showing.   Dorilus. 

And to those Indraughts I'll theebring.  
That wondrous and eternal spring  
Whence th'Ocean hath its flowing.   Doron. 

We'll down to the dark house of sleep,  
Where snoring Morpheus doth keep,  
And wake the drowsy Groom.   Dorilus. 

Down shall the Doors and Windows go,  
The Stools upon the Floor we'll throw,  
And roar about the Room.   

The Muses here commanded them to stay,  
Commending much the caridge of their Lay  
As greatly pleased at this their madding Bout,  
To hear how bravely they had borne it out  
From first to the last, of which they were right glad,  
By this they found that Helicon still had  
That virtue it did anciently retain  
When Orpheus Linus and th'Aserean Swain  
took lusty Rouses, which hath made their Rhymes,  
To last so long to all succeeding times.  
And now amongst this beauteous Beavie here,  
Two wanton Nymphs, though dainty ones they were,  
Naijs and Clotpoll in their female fits  
Longing to show the sharpness of their wits,  
Of the nine Sisters special leave do crave  
That the next 'Bout they two might freely have,  
Who having got the suffrages of all,  
Thus to their Rimeing instantly they fall.   Naijs. 

Amongst you all let us see  
Who ist opposes me,  
Come on the proudest she  
To answer my dittye.   Cloe. 

Why Naijs, that am I,  
Who dares thy pride defy?  
And that we soon shall try  
Though thou be witly.   Naijs. 

Cloe I scorn my Rhyme  
Should observe feet or time,  
Now I fall, than I climb,  
What is't I dare not.   Cloe. 

Give thy Invention wing,  
And let her flert and fling,  
Till down the Rocks she ding,  
For that I care not.   Naijs. 

This presence delights me,  
My freedom invites me,  
The Season excytes me,  
In Rhyme to be merry.   Cloe. 

And I beyond measure,  
Am ravished with pleasure,  
To answer each Ceasure,  
Until thou beast weary.   Naijs. 

Behold the Rosye Dawne,  
Rises in Tinsild Lawn,  
And smiling seems to fawn,  
Upon the mountains.   Cloe. 

Awaked from her Dreams,  
Shooting forth golden Beams  
Dancing upon the Streams  
Courting the Fountains.   Naijs. 

These more than sweet Showrets,  
Entice up these Flowrets,  
To trim up our Bowrets,  
Perfuming our Coats.   Cloe. 

Whilst the Birds billing  
Each one with his Dilling  
The thickets still filling  
With Amorous Notes.   Naijs. 

The Bees up in honey rolled,  
More than their thighs can hold,  
Leapt in their liquid gold,  
Their Treasure us bringing.   Cloe. 

To these Rilletspurling  
Upon the stones Curling,  
And oft about wherling,  
Dance toward their springing.   Naijs. 

The Wood Nymphs sit singing,  
Each Grove with notes ringing  
Whilst fresh Ver is flinging,  
Her Bounties abroad.   Cloe. 

So much as the Turtle,  
Upon the low Myrtle,  
To the meads fertile,  
Her Cares doth unload.   Naijs. 

Nay 'tis a world to see,  
In every bush and Tree,  
The Birds with mirth and glee,  
Wooed as they woe.   Cloe. 

The Robin and the Wren,  
Every Cock with his Hen,  
Why should not we and men,  
Do as they do.   Naijs. 

The Fairs are hopping,  
The small Flowers cropping,  
And with dew dropping,  
Skip thorough the Greaves.   Cloe. 

At Barleybreak they play  
Merrily all the day,  
At night themselves they lay  
Upon the soft leaves   Naijs. 

The gentle winds sally  
Upon every Valley,  
And many times dally  
And wantonly sport.   Cloe. 

About the fields tracing,  
Each other in chase,  
And often embracing,  
In amorous sort.   Naijs. 

And Echo oft doth tell  
Wondrous things from her Cell,  
As her what chance befell,  
Learning to prattle.   Cloe. 

And now she sits and mocks  
The Shepherds and their flocks,  
And the Herds from the Rocks  
Keeping their Cattle.   

WHen to these Maids the Muse's silence cry,  
For 'twas th'opinion of the Company,  
That were not these two taken of, that they  
Would in their Conflict wholly spend they day.  
When as the Turn to Florimell next came,  
A Nymph for Beauty of especial name,  
Yet was she not so jolly as the rest:  
And though she were by her companions pressed,  
Yet she by no entreaty would be wrought  
To sing, as by th'elysian Laws she ought:  
When two bright Nymphs that her companions were,  
And of all other only held her dear,  
Mild Cloris and Mertilla, with fair speech  
Their most beloved Florimell beseech,  
T'observe the Muses, and the more to woo her,  
They take their turns, and thus they sing unto her.   Cloris. 

Sing Florimell, O sing, and 〈◊〉  
Our whole wealth will give to thee,  
We'llroh the brim of every Fountain,  
Strip the sweets from every Mountain,  
We will sweep the curled valleys,  
Brush the banks that mound our allies,  
We will muster nature's dainties  
When she wallows in her plenty's,  
The lushyous smell of every flower  
New washed by an April shower,  
The Mistress of her store we'll make thee  
That she for herself shall take thee;  
Can there be a dainty thing,  
That's not thine if thou will sing.   Mertilla. 

When the dew in May distilleth,  
And the Earth's rich bosom filleth,  
And with Pearl embrouds each Meadow,  
We will make them like a widow,  
And in alltheir Beauties dress thee,  
And of all their spoils possess thee,  
With all the bounties Zephyre brings,  
Breathing on the yearly springs,  
The gaudy blooms of every Tree  
In their most Beauty when they be,  
What is here that may delight thee,  
Or to pleasure may excite thee,  
Can there be a dainty thing  
That's not thine if thou wilt sing.   

But Florimell still fullenly replies  
I will not sing at all, let that suffice:  
When as a Nymph one of the merry ging  
Seeing she no way could be won to sing;  
Come, come, quoth she, ye utterly undo her  
With your entreaties, and your reverence to her;  
For praise nor prayers, she careth not a pin;  
They that our froward Florimell would win,  
Must work another way, let me come to her,  
Either I'll make her sing, or I'll undo her.   Claia. 

Florimell I thus conjure thee,  
Since their gifts cannot allure thee;  
By stamped Garlic, that doth stink  
Worse than common Sewer, or Sink.  
By Henbane, Dogshane, Woolfsbane, sweet  
As any Clowns or Carriers feet,  
By stinging Nettles, pricking Teasels  
Raising blisters like the measles,  
By the rough Burbreeding docks,  
Ranker than the oldest Fox,  
By filthy Hemlock, poisoning more  
Than any uleer or old sore,  
By the Cockle in the corn  
That smells far worse than doth burnt 〈◊〉  
By Hemp in water that hath laid,  
By whose stench the Fish are slain,  
By Toadflax which your Nose may taste,  
If you have a mind to cast,  
May all filthy stinking Weeds  
That e'er bore leaf, or e'er had seeds,  
Florimell be given to thee,  
If 〈◊〉 not sing aswell as we.   

AT which the Nymphs to open laughter fell,  
Amongst the rest the beauteous Florimell,  
(Pleased with the spell from Claia that came,  
A mirthful Girl and given to sport and game)  
As gamesome grows as any of them all,  
And to this ditty instantly doth fall.   Florimell. 

How in my thoughts should I contrive  
The Image I am framing,  
Which is so far superlative,  
As 'tis beyond all naming;  
I would love of my counsel make,  
And have his judgement in it,  
But that I doubt he would mistake  
How rightly to begin it:  
It must be builded in the Air,  
And 'tis my thoughts must do it,  
And only they must be the stair  
From earth to mount me to it,  
For of my Sex I frame my Lay.  
Each hour, ourselves forsaking,  
How should I then find out the way  
To this my undertaking,  
When our weak Fancies working still,  
Yet changing every minute,  
Will show that it requires some skill,  
Such difficulty's in it.  
We would things, yet we know not what,  
And let our will be granted,  
Yet instantly we find in that  
Something unthought of wanted:  
Our joys and hopes such shadows are,  
As with our motions vary,  
Which when we oft have fetched from far,  
With us they never tarry:  
Some worldly cross doth still attend,  
What long we have been spinning,  
Ande'r we fully get the end  
We lose of our beginning.  
Our policies so peevish are,  
That with themselves they wrangle,  
And many times become the snare  
That soon us entangle;  
For that the Love we bear our Friends  
Though ne'er so strongly grounded,  
Hath in it certain oblique ends,  
If to the bottom sounded:  
Our own well wishing making it,  
A pardonable Treason;  
For that it is derived from wit,  
And underpropt with reason.  
For our Dear selves beloved sake  
(Even in the depth of passion)  
Our Centre though ourselves we make,  
Yet is not that our station;  
For whilst our Brows ambitious be  
And youth at hand awayts us,  
It is a pretty thing to see  
How finely Beauty cheats us  
And whilst with time we trifling stand  
To practise Antique grace's  
Age with a pale and withered hand  
Draws Furowes in our faces.   

WHen they which so desirous were before  
To hear her sing; desirous are far more  
To have her cease; and call to have her stayed  
For she to much already had bewrayed.  
And as the thrice three Sisters thus had graced  
Their Celebration, and themselves had placed  
Upon a Violet bank, in order all  
Where they at will might view the Festifall  
The Nymphs and all the lusty youth that were  
At this brave Nimphall, by them honoured there,  
To Gratify the heavenly Girls again  
Lastly prepare in state to entertain  
Those sacred Sisters, fairly and confer,  
On each of them, their praise particular  
And thus the Nymphs to the nine Muses sung.  
When as the Youth and Foresters among  
That well prepared for this business were,  
Become the Chorus, and thus sung they there.   Nymphs. 

Clio thou first of those Celestial nine  
That daily offer to the sacred shrine,  
Of wise Apollo; Queen of Stories,  
Thou that vindicat'st the glories  
Of passed ages, and renewst  
Their acts which every day thou viewst,  
And from a lethargy dost keep  
Old nodding time, else prone to sleep.   Chorus. 

Clio O crave of Phoebus to inspire  
Us, for his Altars with his holiest fire,  
And let his glorious ever-shining Rays  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

Melpomene thou melancholy Maid  
Next, to wise Phoebus we invoke thy aid,  
In Buskins that dost stride the Stage,  
And in thy deep distracted rage,  
In bloodshed that dost take delight,  
Thy object the most fearful sight,  
That lovest the sighs, the shrieks, and sounds  
Of horrors, that arise from wounds.   Chorus. 

Sad Muse, O crave of Phoebus to inspire  
Us for his Altars, with his holiest fire,  
And let his glorious ever-shining Rays  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

Comic Thalia than we come to thee,  
Thou mirthful Maiden, only that in glee  
And in love's deceits, thy pleasure tak'st,  
Of which thy varying Scene that mak'st  
And in thy nimble Sock dost stir  
Loud laughter through the Theatre,  
That with the Peasant mak'st thee sport,  
As well as with the better sort.   Chorus. 

Thalia crave of Phoebus to inspire,  
Us for his Altars with his holiest fire;  
And let his glorious ever shining Rays  
Give life, and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

Euterpe next to thee we will proceed,  
That first found'st out the Music on the Reed,  
With breath and fingers giving life,  
To the shrill Cornet and the Fife,  
Teaching every stop and kaye,  
To those upon the Pipe that play,  
Those which Wind-Instruments we call  
Or soft, or loud, or great, or small.   Chorus. 

Euterpe ask of Phoebus to inspire,  
Us for his Altars with his holiest fire  
And let his glorious ever-shining Rays  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

Terpsichore that of the Lute and Lyre,  
And Instruments that sound with Cords and Wyere,  
That art the Mistress, to command  
The touch of the most Curious hand,  
When every Quaver doth Embrace  
His like, in a true Diapase,  
And every string his sound doth fill  
Touched with the Finger or the Quill.   Chorus. 

Terpsichore, crave Phoebus to inspire  
Us for his Altars with his holiest fire  
And let his glorious ever-shining Rays  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

Then Erato wise muse on thee we call  
In Lynes to us that dost demonstrate all,  
Which neatly with thy Staff and Bow,  
Dost measure, and proportion show;  
Motion and Gesture that dost teach  
That every height and depth canst reach,  
And d o'st demonstrate by thy Art  
What nature else would not Impart.   Chorus. 

Dear Erato crave Phoebus to inspire  
Us for his Altars with his holiest fire,  
And let his glorious ever-shining Rays,  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

To thee then brave Calliope we come  
Thou that maintain'st, the Trumpet, and the Drum;  
The neighing Steed that lovest to hear,  
Clashing of Arms doth please thine ear,  
In lofty Lines that dost rehearse  
Things worthy of a thundering verse,  
And at no time art heard to strain,  
On aught, that suits a Common vain.   Chorus. 

Calliope, crave Phoebus to inspire,  
Us for his Altars, with his holiest fire,  
And let his glorious ever-shining Rays,  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

Then Polyhymnia most delicious Maid,  
In Rhetorics Flowers that art arrayed,  
In Tropes and Figures, richly dressed,  
The Filed Phrase that lovest best,  
That art all Elocution, and  
The first that gav'st to understand  
The force of words in order placed  
And with a sweet delivery graced   Chorus. 

Sweet Muse persuade our Phoebus to inspire  
Us for his Altars, with his holiest fire,  
And let his glorious ever shining Rays  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.   Nymphs. 

Lofty Urania than we call to thee,  
To whom the Heavens for ever opened be,  
Thou th' Aserismes by name dost call,  
And showst when they do rise and fall,  
Each Planet's force, and dost divine  
His working, seated in his Sign,  
And how the starry Frame still 〈◊〉  
Betwixt the fixed steadfast Poles.   Chorus. 

Urania ask of Phoebus to inspire  
Us for his Altars with his holiest fire,  
And let his glorious ever-shining Rays  
Give life and growth to our Elysian Bays.    

The fourth Nimphall.  
CLORIS and MERTILLA.  

Chaste Cloris doth disclose the shames  
Of the Felician frantic Dames,  
Mertilla strives t'apease her woe,  
To golden wishes than they go.   Mertilla. 

WHy how now Cloris, what, thy head  
Bound with forsaken Willow?  
Is the cold ground become thy bed?  
The grass become thy pillow?  
O let not those life-lightning eyes  
In this sad veil be shrouded,  
Which into mourning puts the Skies,  
To see them over clouded.   Cloris. 

O my Mertilla do not praise  
These Lamps so dimly burning,  
Such sad and sullen lights as these  
Were only made for mourning:  
Their objects are the barren Rocks  
With aged Moss o'er shaded;  
Now whilst the Spring lays forth her Locks  
With blossoms bravely braded.   Mertilla. 

O Cloris, Can there be a Spring,  
O my dear Nymph, they may not,  
Wanting thine eyes it forth to bring,  
Without which Nature cannot:  
Say what it is that troubleth thee  
Increased by thy concealing,  
Speak; sorrows many times we see  
Are lessened by revealing.   Cloris. 

Being of late too vainly bend  
And but at two much leisure;  
Not with our Groves and Downs content,  
But surfeiting in pleasure;  
Felicia's Fields I would go see,  
Where fame to me reported,  
The choice Nymphs of the world to be  
From meaner beauties sorted;  
Hoping that I from them might draw  
Some graces to delight me,  
But there such monstrous shapes I saw,  
That to this hour affright me.  
Throw the thick Hair, that thatched their Brows  
Their eyes upon me stared,  
Like to those raging frantic Froes  
For Bacchus' Feasts prepared:  
Their Bodies, although strait by kind,  
Yet they so monstrous make them,  
That for huge Bags blown up with wind,  
You very well may take them.  
Their Bowels in their Elbows are,  
Whereon depend their Paunches,  
And their deformed Arms by far  
Made larger than their Haunches:  
For their behaviour and their grace,  
Which likewise should have prized them,  
Their manners were as beastly base  
As th'rags that so disguised them;  
All Antics, all so impudent,  
So fashioned out of fashion,  
As black Cocytus up had sent  
Her Fry into this nation,  
Whose monstrousness doth so perplex,  
Of Reason and deprives me,  
That for their sakes I loathe my sex,  
Which to this sadness drives me.   Mertilla. 

O my dear Cloris be not sad,  
Nor with these Furies daunted,  
But let these semale fools be mad,  
With Hellsh pride enchanted;  
Let not thy noble thoughts descend  
So low as their affections;  
Whom neither counsel can amend,  
Nor yet the God's corrections:  
Such mad folks ne'er let us bemoan,  
But rather scorn their folly,  
And since we two are here alone,  
To banish melancholy,  
Leave we this lowly creeping vain  
Not worthy admiration,  
And in a brave and lofty strain,  
Le's exercise our passion,  
With wishes of each others good,  
From our abundant treasures,  
And in this jocund sprightly mood  
Thus alter we our measurcs.   Mertilla. 

O I could wish this place were strewed with Roses,  
And that this Bank were thickly thrumd with Grass  
As soft as Sleeve, or Sarsenet ever was,  
Whereon my Cloris her sweet self reposes.   Cloris. 

O that these Dews Rose water were for thee,  
These Mists Perfumes that hang upon these thicks,  
And that the Winds were All Aromatics,  
Which if my wish could make them, they should be.   Mertilla. 

O that my Bottle one whole Diamond were,  
So filled with Nectar that a Fly might sup,  
And at one draught that thou mightst drink it up,  
Yet a Carouse not good enough I sear.   Clork. 

That all the Pearl, the Seas, or India's have  
Were well dissolved, and there of made a Lake,  
Thou there in bathing, and I by to take  
Pleasure to see thee clearer than the Wave.   Mertilla. 

O that the horns of all the Herds we see  
Were of fine gold, or else that every horno  
Were like to that one of the Unicorn,  
And of all these, not one but were thy Fee.   Cloris. 

O that their Hooves were ivory, or some thing,  
Then the purest ivory far more Crystalline,  
Filled with the food wherewith the Gods do dine,  
To keep thy Youth in a continual Spring.   Mertilla. 

O that the sweets of all the Flowers that grow,  
The labouring air would gather into one,  
In Gardens, Fields, nor Meadows leaving none,  
And all their Sweetness upon thee would throw.   Cloris. 

Nay that those sweet harmonious strains we hear,  
Amongst the lively Birds melodious Lays,  
As they recording sit upon the Sprays,  
Were hover still for Music at thine care.   Mertilla. 

O that thy name were carved on every Tree,  
That as these plants, still great, and greater grow,  
Thy name dear Nymph might be enlarged so,  
That every Grove and Goppis might speak thee.   Cloris. 

Nay would thy name upon their Rynds were set,  
And by the Nymphs so oft and loudly spoken,  
As that the Echoes to that language broken  
Thy happy name might hourly counterfeit.   Mertilla. 

O let the Spring still put stern winter by,  
And in rich Damask let her Revel still,  
As it should do if I might have my will,  
That thou mightst still walk on her Tapestry;  
And thus since Fate no longer time allows  
Under this broad and shady Sicamore,  
Where now we sit, as we have oft before,  
Those yet unborn shall offer up their Vows.    

The fifth Nimphall.  
CLAIA LELIPA CLARINAX a Hermit.  

Of Garlands, Anadems, and Wreaths  
This Nimphall nought but sweetness breathes,  
Presents you with delicious Posies,  
And with powerful Simples closes.   Claia. 

SEE where old Clarinax is set,  
His sundry Simples sorting,  
From whose experience we may get  
What worthy is reporting.  
Then Lelipa let us draw near,  
Whilst he his weeds is weathering,  
I see some powerful Simples there  
That he hath late been gathering.  
Hail gentle Hermit, love thee speed,  
And have thee in his keeping,  
And ever help thee at thy need,  
Be thou awake or sleeping.   Clarinax. 

Ye pair of most Celestial lights,  
O Beauties three times burnished,  
Who could expect such heavenly wights  
With Angels features furnished;  
What God doth guide you to this place,  
To bless my homely Bower?  
It cannot be but this high grace  
Proceeds from some high power;  
The hours like hand maids still attend,  
Disposed at your pleasure,  
Ordained to no other end  
But to await your leisure;  
The Dews drawn up into the Aer,  
And by your breaths perfumed,  
In little Clouds do hover there  
As loath to be consumed:  
The Aer moves not but as you please,  
So much sweet Nymphs it owes you,  
The winds do cast them to their ease,  
And amorously enclose you.   Lelipa. 

Be not too lavish of thy praise,  
Thou good Elysian Hermit,  
Lest some to hear such words as these,  
Perhaps may flattery term it;  
But of your Simples something say,  
Which may discourse affords us,  
We know your knowledge lies that way,  
With subjects you have stored us.   Claia. 

We know for Physic yours you get,  
Which thus you here are sorting,  
And upon Garlands we are set,  
With Wreaths and Posyes sporting:  
Each Garden great abundance yields,  
Whose Flowers invite us thither;  
But you abroad in Groves and Fields  
Your Medc'nall Simples gather.   Lelipa. 

The Chaplet and the Anadem,  
The curled Tresses crowning,  
We loser Nymphs delight in them,  
Not in your Wreaths renowning.   Clarinax. 

The Garland long ago was worn,  
As Time pleased to bestow it,  
The Laurel only to adorn  
The Conqueror and the Poet.  
The Palm his due, who uncontrolled,  
On danger looking gravely,  
When Fate had done the worst it could,  
Who bore his Fortunes bravely.  
Most worthy of the Oaken Wreath  
The Ancients him esteemed,  
Who in a Battle had from death  
Some man of worth redeemed.  
About his Temple's Grass they tie,  
Himself that so behaved  
In some strong Seedge by th'Enemy,  
A City that hath saved.  
A Wreath of vervain Herhauts wear,  
Amongst our Garlands named,  
Being sent that dreadsull news to bear,  
Offensive war proclaimed.  
The Sign of Peace who first displays,  
The Olive Wreath possesses:  
The Lover with the Myrtle Sprays  
Adorns his crisped Tresses:  
In Love the sad forsaken wight  
The Willow Garland weareth:  
The Funeral man befitting night,  
The baleful Cypress beareth.  
To Pan we dedicate the Pine,  
Whose slips the Shepherd graceth:  
Again the Ivy and the Vine  
On his, swollen Bacchus placeth.   Cloia. 

The Boughs and Sprays, of which you tell,  
By you are rightly named,  
But we with those of precious smell  
And colours, are inflamed;  
The noble Ancients to excite  
Men to do things worth crowning,  
Not unperformed left a Rite,  
To heighten their renowning:  
But they that those rewards devised,  
And those brave wights that wore them  
By these base times, though poorly prized,  
Yet Hermit we adore them.  
The store of every fruitful Field  
We Nymphs at will possessing,  
From the variety they yield  
Get Flowers for every dressing:  
Of Which a Garland I'll compose,  
Then busily attend me,  
These Flowers I for that purpose chose,  
But where I miss amend me.   Clarinax. 

Well Cloia on with your intent,  
Le's see how you will weave it,  
Which done, here for a monument  
I hope with me, you'll leave it.   Cloia. 

Here Damask Roses, white and red,  
Out of my lap first take I,  
Which still shall run along the thread,  
My chiefest Flower this make I:  
Amongst these Roses in a row,  
Next place I Pinks in plenty,  
These double Daysyes then for show,  
And will not this be dainty.  
The pretty Pansy then Iletye  
Like Stones some chain enchasing,  
And next to them their near Alye,  
The purple Violet placing.  
The curious choice, Clove july-flower  
Whose kinds height the Carnation  
For sweetness of most sovereign power  
Shall help my Wreath to fashion.  
Whose sundry colours of one kind  
First from one Root derived,  
Them in their several suits I'll bind,  
My Garland so contrived;  
A course of Cowslips then I'll stick,  
And here and there though sparely  
The pleasant Primrose down I'll prick  
Like Pearls, which will show rarely:  
Then with these Marygolds I'll make  
My Garland somewhat swelling,  
These Honysuckles then I'll take,  
Whose sweets shall help their smelling:  
The Lily and the Flower-delice,  
For colour much contenting,  
For that, I them do only prise,  
They are but poor in scenting:  
The Daffodil most dainty is  
To match with these in meetness;  
The columbine compared to this,  
All much alike for sweetness.  
These in their natures only are  
Fit to embosse the border,  
Therefore I'll take especial care  
To place them in their order:  
Sweet-Williams, Campions, Sops-in-wine  
One by another neatly:  
Thus have I made this Wreath of mine,  
And finished it featly.   Lelipa. 

Your Garland thus you finished have,  
Then as we have attended  
Your leisure, likewise let me crave  
I may the like be friended.  
Those gaudy garish Flowers you choose,  
In which our Nymphs are flaunting,  
Which they at Feasts and Brydals use,  
The sight and smell enchanting:  
A Chaplet me of Herbs I'll make,  
Than which though yours be braver,  
Yet this of mine I'll undertake  
Shall not be short in savour.  
With Basill than I will begin,  
Whose scent is wondrous pleasing,  
This Eglantine I'll next put in,  
The sense with sweetness seizing.  
Then in my Lavender I'll lay,  
Muscado put among it,  
And here and there a leaf of Bay,  
Which still shall run along it.  
Germander, Marieram, and Time  
Which used are for strewing,  
With Hisop as an herb most prime  
Here in my wreath bestowing.  
Then Balm and Mint helps to make up  
My Chaplet, and for Trial,  
Costmary that so likes the Cup,  
And next it Penieryall  
Than Burnet shall bear up with this  
Whose leaf I greatly fancy,  
Some Camomile doth not amiss  
With Savoury and some Tansy,  
Then here and there I'll put a sprig  
Of Rosemary into it  
Thus not too little nor too big  
'tis done if I can do it.   Clarinax. 

Claia your Garland is most gay,  
Composed of curious Flowers,  
And so most lovely Lelipa,  
This Chaplet is of yours,  
In goodly Gardens yours you get  
Where you your laps have jaded;  
My simples are by Nature set,  
In Groves and Fields untraded.  
Your Flowers most curiously you twyne,  
Each one his place supplying.  
But these rough harsher Herbs of mine,  
About me rudely lying,  
Of which some dwat fish Weeds there be,  
Some of a larger stature,  
Some by experience as we see,  
Whose names express their nature,  
here is my Moly of much fame,  
In Magic's often used,  
Mugwort and Nightshade for the same,  
But not by me abused;  
Here Henbane, Popy, Hemlock here,  
Procuring Deadly sleeping,  
Which I do minister with Fear,  
Not fit for each man's keeping.  
here holy vervain, and here Dill,  
Against witchcraft much availing,  
Here Horound 'gainst the Mad dogs ill  
By biting, never failing  
Here Mandrake that procureth love,  
In poisoning Philters mixed,  
And makes the Barren fruitful prove.  
The Root about them fixed,  
Enchanting Lunary here lies  
In Sorceries excelling,  
And this is Dictam, which we prise  
Shot shafts and Darts expelling,  
Here Saxifrage against the stone  
That Powerful is approved,  
Here Dodder by whose help alone,  
Old Agues are removed  
Here Mercury, here Helibore,  
Old Ulcers mundifying,  
And Shepheards-purse the Flux most sore,  
That helps by the Applying;  
Here wholesome Plantain, that the pain  
Of Eyes and Ears appeases;  
Here cooling Sorrel that again  
We use in hot diseases:  
The medcinable Mallow here,  
assuaging sudden Tumours,  
The jagged Polypodium there,  
To purge old rotten humours,  
Next these here Egremony is,  
That helps the Serpents biting,  
The blessed Betony by this,  
Whose cures deserven writing:  
This All-heale, and so named of right,  
New wounds so quickly healing,  
A thousand more I could recite,  
Most worthy of Revealing,  
But that I hindered am by Fate,  
And business doth prevent me,  
To cure a mad man, which of late  
Is from Felicia sent me.   Claia. 

Nay then thou hast enough to do,  
We pity thy enduring,  
For they are there infected so,  
That they are passed thy curing.    

The sixth Nimphall.  
SILVIUS HALCIUS. MELANTHUS.  

A Woodman, Fisher, and a Swain  
This Nimphall through with mirth maintain,  
Whose plead so the Nymphs do please,  
That presenily they give them Bays.   

Clear had the day been from the dawn,  
All chequerd was the Sky,  
Thin Clouds like Scarves of Cobweb Lawn  
Vayld heaven's most glorious eye.  
The Wind had no more strength than this,  
That leisurely it blew,  
To make one leaf the next to kiss,  
That closely by it grew.  
The Rils that on the Pebbles played,  
Might now be heard at will;  
This world they only Music made,  
Else every thing was still.  
The Flowers like brave embraudred Girls,  
Looked as they much desired,  
To see whose head with orient Pearls,  
Most curiously was tired;  
And to itself the subtle Air,  
Such sovereignty assumes,  
That it received too large a share  
From nature's rich perfumes.  
When the Elysian Youth were met,  
That were of most account,  
And to disport themselves were set  
Upon an easy Mount:  
Near which, of stately Fir and Pine  
There grew abundant store,  
The Tree that weepeth Turpentine,  
And shady Sicamore.  
Amongst this merry youthful train  
A Forester they had,  
A Fisher, and a Shepherd's swain  
A lively Country Lad:  
Betwixt which three a question grew,  
Who should the worthiest be,  
Which violently they pursue,  
Nor stickled would they be.  
That it the Company doth please  
This civil strife to stay,  
Freely to hear what each of these  
For his brave self could say:  
When first this Forester (of all)  
That Silvins had to name,  
To whom the Lot being cast doth fall,  
Doth thus begin the Game,   Silvius. 

For my profession then, and for the life I lead  
All others to excel, thus for myself I plead;  
I am the Prince of sports, the Forest is my Fee,  
He's not upon the Earth for pleasure lives like me;  
The Morn no sooner puts her Rosye Mantle on,  
But from my quiet Lodge I instantly am gone,  
When the melodious Birds from every Bush and Bryer  
Of the wild spacious Wastes, make a continual choir;  
The motlied Meadows then, new varnished with the Sun  
Shute up their spicy sweets upon the winds that run,  
In easily ambling Gales, and softly seem to pace,  
That it the longer might their lushiousnesse embrace:  
I am cladin youthful Greene, I other colours scorn,  
My silken Bauldrick bears my Beugle, or my Horn,  
Which setting to my Lips, I wind so loud and shrill,  
As makes the Echo's shout from every neighbouring Hill:  
My Doghooke at my Belt, to which my Lyam's tide,  
My Sheafe of Arrows by, my Woodknife at my side,  
My Crossbow in my Hand, my Gaffle or my Rack  
To bend it when I please, or it I list to slack,  
My Hound then in my Lyam, I by the Woodman's art  
Forecast, where I may lodge the goodly Hie-palmed Hart,  
To view the grazing Herds, so sundry times I use,  
Where by the loftiest Head I know my Deer to choose,  
And to unheard him then, I gallop o'er the ground  
Upon my well-breathed Nag, to cheer my earning Hound.  
Sometime I pitch my Toils the Dear alive to take,  
Sometime I like the Cry, the deepe-mouthed Kennel make,  
Then underneath my Horse, I staulke my game to strike,  
And with a single Dog to hunt him hurt, I like.  
The Siluians are to me true subjects, I their King,  
The stately Hart, his Hind doth to my presence bring,  
The Buck his loved do, the Roe his tripping Mate,  
Before me to my Bower, whereas I sit in State.  
The Dryads, Hamadryads, the Satyrs and the Fawns  
Oft play at Hyde and Seek before me on the Lawns,  
The frisking Fairy oft when horned Cynthia shines  
Before me as I walk dance wanton Matachynes,  
The numerous feathered flocks that the wild Forests haunt  
Their Sylvan songs to me, in cheerful dittyes' chaunte,  
The shades like ample shields, defend me from the Sun,  
Through which me to refresh the gentle Rivulets run,  
No little bubbling Brook from any Spring that falls  
But on the Pebbles plays me pretty Madrigals.  
I'th' morn I climb the Hills, where wholesome winds do blow  
At Noontide to the Vales, and shady Groves below,  
Towards Evening I again the Crystal Floods frequent,  
In pleasure thus my life continually is spent.  
As Princes and great Lords have Palaces, so I  
Have in the Forests here, my Hall and Gallery  
The tall and stately Woods; which underneath are Plain,  
The Groves my Gardens are, the Heath and Downes again  
My wide and spacious walks, then say all what ye can,  
The Forester is still your only gallant man.   

He of his speech scarce made an end,  
But him they load with praise,  
The Nymphs most highly him commend,  
And vow to give him Bays:  
He's now cried up of every one,  
And who but only he,  
The Forresters the man alone,  
The worthiest of the three.  
When some then th'other far more stayed,  
Wiled them a while to pause,  
For there was more yet to be said,  
That might deserve applause,  
When Haleius his turn next plies,  
And silence having won,  
Room for the fisher man he cries,  
And thus his Plea begun.   Halcius. 

No Forester, it so must not be borne away,  
But hear what for himself the Fisher first can say,  
The Crystal current Streams continually I keep,  
Where every Pearle-paued Foard, and every Blew-eyd deep  
With me familiar are; when in my Boat being set,  
My Oar I take in hand, my Angle and my Net  
About me; like a Prince myself in state I steer,  
Now up, now down the Stream, now am I here, now there,  
The Pilot and the Fraught myself; and at my eafe  
Can land me when I list, or in what place I please,  
The Siluer-scaled Sholes, about me in the Streams,  
As thick as ye discern the Atoms in the Beams,  
Near to the shady Bank where slender Sallowes grow,  
And Willows their shagged tops down towards the waters bow  
I shove in with my Boat to shield me from the heat,  
Where choosing from my Bag, some proved especial bait,  
The goodly well grown Trout I with my Angle strike,  
And with my bearded Wire I take the ravenous Pike,  
Of whom when I have hold, he seldom breakesaway  
Though at my Lynes full length, so long I let him play  
Till by my hand I find he well-nere wearied be,  
When softly by degrees I draw him up to me.  
The lusty Salmon to, I oft with Angling take,  
Which me above the rest most Lordly sport doth make,  
Who feeling he is caught, such Frisks and bounds doth fetch,  
And by his very strength my Line so far doth stretch,  
As draws my floating Corcke down to the very ground,  
And wresting of my Rod, doth make my Boat turn round.  
I never idle am, some time I bait my Weeles,  
With which by night I take the dainty silver Eeles,  
And with my Draughtnet then, I sweep the streaming Flood,  
And to my Tramell next, and Cast-net from the Mud,  
I beat the Scaly brood, no hour I idly spend,  
But wearied with my work I bring the day to end:  
The Naijdes and Nymphs that in the Rivers keep,  
Which take into their care, the store of every deep,  
Amongst the Flowery flags, the Bulrushes and Reed,  
That of the Spawn have charge (abundantly to breed)  
Well mounted upon Swans, their naked bodies lend  
To my discerning eye, and on my Boat attend,  
And dance upon the Waves, before me (for my sake)  
To th'music the soft wind upon the Reeds doth make.  
And for my pleasure more, the rougher Gods of Seas  
From Neptune's Court send in the blue Neriades,  
Which from his bracky Realm upon the Billows ride  
And bear the River's back with every streaming Tide,  
Those Billows 'gainst my Boat, borne with delightful Gales  
Oft seeming as I row to tell me pretty tales,  
Whilst Ropes of liquid Pearl still load my labouring Oars,  
As stretched upon the Stream they strike me to the Shores:  
The silent meadows seem delighted with my Lays,  
As sitting in my Boat I sing my Lasses praise,  
Then let them that like, the Forester up cry,  
Your noble Fisher is your only man say I.   

This Speech of Halcius turned the Tide,  
And brought it so about,  
That all upon the Fisher cried,  
That he would bear it out;  
Him for the speech he made, to clap  
Who lent him not a hand,  
And saidt ' would be the Water's hap,  
Quite to put down the Land.  
This while Melanthus silent sits,  
(For so the Shepherd hight)  
And having heard these dainty wits,  
Each pleading for his right;  
To hearethem honoured in this wise,  
His patience doth provoke,  
When for a Shepherd room he cries,  
And for himself thus spoke.   Melanthus. 

Well Fisher you have done, & Forester for you  
Your Tale is neatly told, s'are both ' to give you due,  
And now my turn comes next, then hear a Shepherd speak:  
My watchfulness and care gives day scarce leave to break,  
But to the Fields I haste, my folded flock to see,  
Where when I find, nor Wolf, nor Fox, hath injured me,  
I to my Bottle strait, and sound baste my Throat,  
Which done, some Country Song or Roundelay I roate  
So merrily; that to the music that I make,  
I Force the Lark to sing ere she be well awake;  
Then Baull my cut-tayld Cur and I begin to play,  
He o'er my Shephook leaps, now th'one, now th'other way,  
Then on his hinder feet he doth himself advance,  
I tune, and to my note, my lively Dog doth dance,  
Then whistle in my Fist, my fellow Swains to call,  
Down go our Hooks and Scrips, and we to Nine-holes fall,  
At Dust-point, or at Quoyts, else are we at it hard,  
All false and cheating Games, we Shepherds are debarred;  
Survaying of my sheep if Ewe or Weather look  
As though it were amiss, or with my Cur, or Crook  
I take it, and when once I find what it doth ail,  
It hardly hath that hurt, but that my skill can heal;  
And when my careful eye, I cast upon my sheep  
I sort them in my Pens, and sorted so I keep:  
Those that are bigst of Bone, I still reserve for breed,  
My Cullings I put off, or for the Chapman feed  
When the Evening doth approach I to my Bagpipe take,  
And to my Grazing flocks such Music than I make,  
That they forbear to feed; then me a King you see,  
I playing go before, my Subjects follow me,  
My Bell-wether most brave, before the rest doth stalk,  
The Father of the flock, and after him doth walk  
My writhe headed Ram, with Posyes crowned in pride  
Fast to his crooked horns with Rybands neatly tied  
And at our Shepherd's Board that's cut out of the ground,  
My fellow Swains and I together at it round,  
With Greencheese, clouted Cream, with Flawns, & Custards,  
Whig, Cider, and with Whey, I domineer a Lord, (stored,  
When shering time is come I to the River drive,  
My goodly well-fleeced Flocks: (by pleasure thus I thrive)  
Which being washed at will; upon the shering day,  
My wool I forth in Loaks, fit for the wynder lay,  
Which upon lusty heaps into my Coat I heave,  
That in the Handling fecles as soft as any Sleeve,  
When every Ewe two Lambs, that yeaned hath that year,  
About her new shorn neck a Chaplet than doth wear;  
My Tarboxe, and my Scrip, my Bagpipe, at my back,  
My sheephook in my hand, what can I say I lack;  
He that a Sceptre swayed, a sheephook in his hand,  
Hath not disdained to have; for Shepherds than I stand;  
Then Forester and you my Fisher cease your strife  
I say your Shepherd leads your only merry life,   

They had not cried the Forester,  
And Fisher up before,  
So much: but now the Nymphs prefer,  
The Shepherd ten times more,  
And all the Ging goes on his side,  
Their Minion him they make,  
To him themselves they all apply,  
And all his party take;  
Till some in their discretion cast,  
Since first the strife begun  
In all that from them there had passed  
None absolutely won:  
That equal honour they should share:  
And their deserts to show,  
For each a Garland they prepare,  
Which they on them bestow,  
Ofall the choicest flowers that wear,  
Which purposely they gather,  
With which they Crown them, parting there.  
As they came first together:    

The Seventh Nimphall.  
FLORIMELL LELIPA NAIIS CODRUS a Ferryman.  

The Nymphs, the Queen of love pursue,  
Which oft doth hide her from their view:  
But lastly from th' Elysian Nation,  
She banished is by Proclamation.   Florimell. 

Dear Lelipa, where hast thou been so long,  
Was't not enough for thee to do me wrong,  
To rob me of thyself, but with more spite  
To take my Naijs from me, my delight?  
Ye lazy Girls, your heads where have ye laid,  
Whilst Venus here her antic pranks hath played?   Lelipa. 

Nay Florimell, we should of you inquire,  
The only Maiden, whom we all admire  
For Beauty, Wit, and Chastity, that you  
Amongst the rest of all our Virgin crew,  
In quest of her, that you so slack should be,  
And leave the charge to Naijs and to me.   Florimell. 

Y'are much mistaken Lelipa, 'twas I,  
Of all the Nymphs, that first did her descry,  
At our great Hunting, when as in the Chase  
Amongst the rest, me thought I saw one face  
So exceeding fair, and curious, yet unknown  
That I that face not possibly could own,  
And in the course, so Goddess like a gate,  
Each step so full of majesty and state;  
That with myself, I thus resolved that she  
Less than a Goddess (surely) could not be:  
Thus as Idalia, steadfastly I eyed,  
A little Nymph that kept close by her side  
I noted, as unknown as was the other,  
Which Cupid was disguised so by his mother.  
The little purblind Rogue, if you had seen,  
You would have thought he verily had been  
One of Diana's votaries, so clad,  
He every thing so like a Huntress had:  
And she had put false eyes into his head,  
That very well he might us all have sped.  
And still they kept together in the Rear,  
But as the Boy should have shot at the Dear,  
He shot amongst the Nymphs, which when I saw,  
Closer up to them I began to draw;  
And fell to hearken, when they naught suspecting,  
Because I seemed them uttorly neglecting,  
I heard her say, my little Cupid to't,  
Now Boy or never, at the Bevie shoot.  
Have at them Venus, quoth the Boy anon,  
I'll pierce the proudest, had she a heart of stone:  
With that I cried out, Treason, Treason, when  
The Nymphs that were before, turning again  
To understand the meaning of this cry,  
They out of sight were vanished presently.  
Thus but for me, the Mother and the Son,  
Here in Elysium, had us all undone.   Naijs. 

Believe me gentle Maid, 'twas very well,  
But now hear me my beauteous Florimell.  
Great Mars his Leman being cry de'out here,  
She to Felicia goes, still to be near  
Th' Elysian Nymphs, for at us is her aim,  
The fond Felicians are her common game.  
I upon 〈◊〉 idly wand'ring thither,  
Something worth laughter from those fools to gather,  
Found her, who thus had lately been surprised;  
Fearing the like, had her fair self disguised  
Like an old Witch, and gave out to have skill  
In telling Fortunes either good or ill;  
And that more nearly she with them might close,  
She cut the Corns, of dainty Lady's Toes:  
She gave them Physic, either to cool or move them,  
And powders too to make their sweet Hearts love them:  
And her son Cupid, as her Zany went,  
Carrying her boxes, whom she often sent  
To know of her fair Patients how they slept.  
By which means she, and the blind Archer crept  
Into their favours, who would often Toy,  
And took delight in sporting with the Boy;  
Which many times amongst his waggish tricks,  
These wanton Wenches in the bosom pricks;  
That they before which had some frantic fits,  
Were by his Witchcraft quite out of their wits.  
Watching this Wizard, my mind gave me still  
She some Impostor was, and that this skill  
Was counterfeit, and had some other end.  
For which discovery, as I did attend,  
Her wrinkled vizard being very thin,  
My piercing eye perceived her clecrer skin  
Through the thick Rivels perfectly to shine;  
When I perceived a beauty so divine,  
As that so clouded, I began to pry  
A little nearer, when I chanced to spy  
That pretty Mole upon her Cheek, which when  
I saw; surveying every part again,  
Upon her left hand, I perceived the scar  
Which she received in the Trojan war;  
Which when I found, I could not choose but smile,  
She, who again had noted me the while.  
And by my carriage, sound I had descried her,  
Slipped out of sight, and presently doth bide her.   Lelipa. 

Nay then my dainty Girls, I make no doubt  
But I myself as strangely found her out  
As either of you both; in Field and Town,  
When like a Pedlar she wentup and down:  
For she had got a pretty handsome Pack,  
Which she had fartheled neatly at her back:  
And opening it, she had the perfect cry,  
Come my fair Girls, let's see, what will you buy?  
Here be fine night Masks, plastred well within,  
To supple wrinkles, and to smooth the skin:  
here's Crystal, Coral, Bugle, let, in Beads,  
Cornelian Bracelets, for my dainty Maids:  
Then Periwigs and Searcloth-gloves doth show,  
To make their hands as white as Swan or Snow:  
Then takes she forth a curious gilded box,  
Which was not opened but by double locks;  
Takes them aside, and doth a Paper spread,  
In which was painting both for white and red:  
And next a piece of Silk, wherein there lies  
For the decayed, false Breasts, false Teeth, false Eyes:  
And all the while she's opening of her Pack,  
Cupid with's wings bound close down to his back:  
Playing the Tumbler on a Table gets,  
And shows the Ladies many pretty feats.  
I seeing behind him that he had such things,  
For well I knew no boy but he had wings,  
I viewed his Mother's beauty, which to me  
Less than a Goddess said, she could not be:  
With that quoth I to her, this other day,  
As youdoe now, so one that came this way,  
Showed me a neat piece, with the needle wrought,  
How Mars and Venus were together caught  
By polt-foot Vulcan in an Iron net;  
It grieved me after that I chanced to let,  
It to go from me: whereat waxing red,  
Into her Hamper she hung down her head,  
As she had stooped some novelty to seek,  
But 'twas indeed to hide her blushing Cheek:  
When she her Trinkets trusseth up anon,  
E'er we were ' ware, and instantly was gone.   Florimell. 

But hark you Nymphs, amongst our idle prate,  
'tis current news through the Elysian State,  
That Venus and her Son were lately seen  
Here in Elysium, whence they oft have been  
Banished by our Edict, and yet still merry,  
Were here in public rowed o'er at the Ferry,  
Where as 'tis said, the Ferryman and she  
Had much discourse, she was so full of glee,  
Codrus much wondering at the blind Boys Bow.   Naijs. 

And what it was, that easily you may know,  
Codrus himself comes rowing here at hand.   Lelipa. 

Codrus Come hither, let your Whirry stand,  
I hope upon you, ye will take no state  
Because two Gods have graced your Boat of late;  
Good Ferryman I pray thee let us hear  
What talk ye had, aboard thee whilst they were:   Codrus. 

Why thus fair Nymphs.  
As I a Fare had lately passed,  
And thought that side to ply,  
I heard one as it were in haste;  
A Boat, a Boat, to cry,  
Which as I was about to bring,  
And came to view my Fraught,  
Thought I, what more than heavenly thing,  
Hath fortune hither brought.  
She seeing mine eyes still on her were,  
Soon, smilingly, quoth she;  
Sirrah, look to your Roother there,  
Why look'st thou thus at me?  
And nimbly stepped into my Boat,  
With her a little Lad  
Naked and blind, yet did I note,  
That Bow and Shafts he had,  
And two Wings to his Shoulders fixed,  
Which stood like little Sails,  
With far more various colours mixed,  
Then be your Peacock's Tails;  
I seeing this little dapper Elf,  
Such Arms as these to bear,  
Quoth I thus softly to myself,  
What strange thing have we here,  
I never saw the like thought I:  
'tis more then strange to me,  
To have a child have wings to fly,  
And yet want eyes to see;  
Sure this is some devised toy,  
Or it transformed hath been,  
For such a thing, half Bird, half Boy,  
I think was never seen;  
And in my Boat I turned about,  
And wistly viewed the Lad,  
And clearly saw his eyes were out,  
Though Bow and Shafts he had.  
As wistly she did me behold,  
How lik'st thou him quoth she,  
Why well, quoth I; and better should,  
Had he but eyes to see.  
How sayst thou honest friend, quoth she,  
Wilt thou a Apprentice take,  
I think in time, though blind he be,  
A Ferryman he'll make;  
To guide my passage Boat quoth I,  
His fine hands were not made,  
He hath been bred too wantonly  
To undertake my trade;  
Why help him to a Master then,  
Quoth she, such Youths be scant,  
It cannot be but there be men  
That such a Boy do want.  
Quoth I, when you your best have done,  
No better way you'll find,  
Then to a Harper bind your Son,  
Since most of them are blind.  
The lovely Mother and the Boy,  
Laughed heartily thereat,  
As at some nimble jest or toy,  
To hear my homely Chat.  
Quoth I, I pray you let me know,  
Came he thus first to light,  
Or by some sickness, hurt, or blow,  
Depryved of his sight;  
Nay sure, quoth she, he thus was borne,  
'tis strange borne blind, quoth I,  
I fear you put this as a scorn  
On my simplicity;  
Quoth she, thus blind I did him bear,  
Quoth I, if't be no lie,  
Then he's the first blind man I'll swear,  
Ere practised Archery,  
A man, quoth she, nay there you miss,  
He's still a Boy as now,  
Nor to be elder than he is,  
The Gods will him allow;  
To be no elder than he is,  
Then sure he is some spirit  
〈◊〉 strait replied, again at this,  
The Goddess laughed out right;  
It is a mystery to me,  
An Archer and yet blind;  
Quoth I again, how can it be,  
That he his mark should find;  
The Gods, quoth she, whose will it was  
That he should want his sight,  
That he in something should surpass,  
To recompense their spite,  
Gave him this gift, though at his Game  
He still shot in the dark,  
That he should have so certain aim,  
As not to miss his mark.  
By this time we were come a shore,  
When me my Fare she paid,  
But not a word she uttered more,  
Nor had I her bewrayed,  
Of Venus nor of Cupid I  
Before did never hear,  
But that a Fisher coming by  
Then, told me who they were.   Florimell. 

Well: against them then proceed  
As before we have decreed,  
That the Goddess and her Child,  
Be for ever hence exiled,  
Which Lelipa you shall proclaim  
In our wise Apollo's name.   Lelipa. 

To all th'elysian Nimphish Nation,  
Thus we make our Proclamation,  
Against Venus and her Son  
For the mischief they have done,  
After the next last of May,  
The fixed and peremptory day,  
If she or Cupid shall be found  
Upon our Elysian ground,  
Our Edict, mere Rogues shall make them,  
And as such, who ere shall take them,  
Them shall into prison put,  
Cupid's wings shall then be cut,  
His Bow broken, and his Arrows  
Given to Boys to shoot at Sparrows,  
And this Vagabund be sent,  
Having had due punishment  
To mount Cithaeron, which first fed him:  
Where his wanton Mother bred him,  
And there out of her protection  
Daily to receive correction;  
Then her Passport shall be made,  
And to Cyprus Isle conveyed,  
And at Paphos in her Shrine,  
Where she hath been held divine,  
For her offences found contrite,  
There to live an Anchorite.    

The eight Nimphall.  
MERTILLA CLAIA CLORIS.  

A Nymph is married to a Fay,  
Great preparations for the Day,  
All Rites of Nuptials they recite you  
To the Bridal and invite you.   Mertilla. 

But will our Tita wed this Fay?   Claia. 

Yea, and to morrow is the day.   Mertilla. 

But why should she bestow herself  
Upon this dwarfish Fairy Else?   Claia. 

Why by her smallness you may find,  
That she is of the Fairy kind,  
And therefore apt to choose her make  
Whence she did her beginning take:  
Besides he's deft and wondrous Airy,  
And of the noblest of the Fairy,  
Chief of the Crickets of much fame,  
In Fairy a most ancient name.  
But to be brief, 'tis clearly done,  
The pretty wench is wooed and won.   Cloris. 

If this be so, let us provide  
The Ornaments to fit our Bride,  
For they knowing she doth come  
From us in Elysium,  
Queen Mab will look she should be dressed  
In those attires we think our best,  
Therefore some curious things le's give her,  
E'er to her Spouse we her deliver.   Mertilla. 

I'll have a jewel for her care,  
(Which for my sake I'll have her wear)  
T shall be a Dewdrop, and therein  
Of Cupid's I will have a twin,  
Which struggling, with their wings shall break  
The Bubble, out of which shall leak  
So sweet a liquor as shall move  
Each thing that smells, to be in love.   Claia. 

Believe me Girl, this will be fine,  
And to this Pendant, then take mine;  
A Cup in fashion of a Fly,  
Of the Lynx's piercing eye,  
Wherein there sticks a Sunny Ray  
Shot in through the clearest day,  
Whose brightness Venus' self did move,  
Therein to put her drink of Love,  
Which for more strength she did distil,  
The Limbeck was a Phoenix quill,  
At this Cups delicious brink,  
A Fly approaching but to drink,  
Like Amber or some precious Gum  
It transparent doth become.   Cloris. 

For jewels for her ears she's sped,  
But for a dressing for her head  
I think for her I have a Tyer,  
That all Fairies shall admire,  
The yellows in the full-blown Rose,  
Which in the Top it doth enclose  
Like drops of gold Oare shall be hung,  
Upon her Tresses, and among  
Those scattered seeds (the eye to please)  
The wings of the Cantharideses:  
With some o'th' Rainbow that doth rail  
Those Moons in, in the Peacock's tail  
Whose dainty colours being mixed  
With th'other beauties, and so fixed,  
Her lovely Tresses shall appear,  
As though upon a flame they were.  
And to be sure she shall be gay,  
we'll take those feathers from the jay;  
About her eyes in Circlets set,  
To be our Tita's Coroner.   Mertilla. 

Then dainty Girls I make no doubt,  
But we shall neatly send her out:  
But let's amongst ourselves agree,  
Of what her wedding Gown shall be.   Claia. 

Of Pansie, Pincke, and Primrose leaves,  
Most curiously laid on in Threaves:  
And all embroidery to supply,  
Powthred with flowers of Rosemary:  
A trail about the skirt shall run,  
The Silkworms finest, newly spun;  
And every Seam the Nymphs shall sew  
With th' smallest of the Spinner's Clue:  
And having done their work, again  
These to the Church shall bear her Train:  
Which for our Tita we will make  
Of the cast slough of a Snake,  
Which quivering as the wind doth blow,  
The Sun shall it like Tinsel show.   Cloris. 

And being led to meet her mate,  
To make sure that she want no state,  
Moons from the Peacock's tail we'll shred,  
With feathers from the Pheasants head:  
Mixed with the plume of (so high price,)  
The precious bird of Paradise.  
Which to make up, our Nymphs shall ply  
Into a curious Canopy.  
Born o'er her head (by our enquiry)  
By Elves, the fittest of the Fairy.   Mertilla. 

But all this while we have 〈◊〉  
Her Buskins, neighbours, have we not?   Claia. 

We had, for those I'll fit her now,  
They shall be of the Lady-Cow:  
The dainty shell upon her back  
Of Crimson strewed with spots of black;  
Which as she holds a stately pace,  
Her Leg will wonderfully grace.   Cloris. 

But then for music of the best,  
This must be thought on for the Feast.   Mertilla. 

The Nightingale of birds most choice,  
To do her best shall strain her voice;  
And to this bird to make a Set,  
The Mavis, Merle, and Robinet;  
The Lark, the Jennet, and the Thrush,  
That make a Quire of every Bush.  
But for still music, we will keep  
The Wren, and Titmouse, which to sleep  
Shall sing the Bride, when she's alone  
The rest into their chambers gone.  
And like those upon Ropes that walk  
On Gossimer, from staulke to staulke,  
The tripping Fairy tricks shall play  
The evening of the wedding day.   Claia. 

But for the Bridebed, what were fit,  
That hath not been talked of yet.   Cloris. 

Of leaves of Roses white and red,  
Shall be the Covering of her bed:  
The Curtains, Valence, Tester, all,  
Shall be the flower Imperiall,  
And for the Fringe, it all along  
With azure Harebels shall be hung:  
Of Lilies shall the Pillows be,  
With down stuffed of the Butter flee.   Mertilla. 

Thus far we handsomely have gone,  
Now for our Prothalamion  
Or Marriage song of all the rest,  
A thing that much must grace our feast.  
Let us practise then to sing it,  
Ere we before th' assembly bring it:  
We in Dialogues must do it,  
Then my dainty Girls set to it.   Claia. 

This day must Tita married be,  
Come Nymphs this nuptial let us see.   Mertilla. 

But is it certain that ye say,  
Will she wed the noble Say?   Cloris. 

Sprinkle the dainty flowers with dews,  
Such as the Gods at Banquets use:  
Let Herbs and Weeds turn all to Roses,  
And make proud the posts with posies:  
Shute your sweets into the air,  
Charge the morning to be fair.   Claia. and Mertilla. 

For our Tita is this day,  
To be married to a Say.   Claia. 

By whom then shall our Bride be led  
To the Temple to be wed.   Mertilla. 

Only by yourself and I,  
Who that roomth should else supply?   Cloris. 

Come bright Girls, come altogether,  
And bring all your offerings hither,  
Ye most brave and Buxom Bevye,  
All your goodly graces Levye,  
Come in Majesty and state  
Our Brydal here to celebrate.   Mertilla. and Claia. 

For our Tita is this day,  
Married to a noble Say.   Claia. 

Whose lot wilt be the way to strew,  
On which to Church our Bride must go?   Mertilla. 

That I think as fittest of all,  
To lively Lelipa will fall.   Cloris. 

Summon all the sweets that are,  
To this nuptial to repair;  
Till with their throngs themselves they smother,  
Strongly stifling one another;  
And at last they all consume,  
And vanish in one rich perfume.   Mertilla: and Claia. 

For our Tita is this day,  
Married to a noble Say.   Mertilla. 

By whom must Tita married be,  
'tis fit we all to that should see?   Claia. 

The Priest he purposely doth come,  
Th' Arch Flamyne of Elysium.   Cloris. 

With Tapers let the Temples shine,  
Sing to Hymen, Hymns divine:  
Load the Altars till there rise  
Clouds from the burnt sacrifice;  
With your Sensors sling aloof  
Their smells, till they ascend the Roof.   Mertilla. and Claia. 

For our Tita is this day,  
Married to a noble Fay.   Mertilla. 

But coming back when she is wed,  
Who breaks the Cake above her head.   Claia. 

That shall Mertilla, for she's tallest,  
And our Tita is the smallest.   Cloris. 

Violins, strike up aloud,  
Fly the Gittern, scour the Crowd,  
Let the nimble hand belabour  
The whistling Pipe, and drumbling Taber:  
To the full the Bagpiperacke,  
Till the swelling leather crack.   Mertilla. and Claia. 

For our Tita is this day,  
Married to a noble Fay.   Claia. 

But when to dine she takes her seats  
What shall be our Tita's meat?   Mertilla. 

The Gods this Feast, as to begin,  
Have 〈◊〉 of their Ambrosia in.   Cloris. 

Then serve we up the straw's rich berry,  
The Respas, and Elysian Cherry:  
The virgin honey from the flowers  
In Hibla, wrought in Flora's Bowers:  
Full Bowls of Nectar, and no Girl  
Carouse but in dissolved Pearl.   Mertilla: and Claia. 

For our Tita is this day,  
Married to a noble Fay.   Claia. 

But when night comes and she must go  
To Bed, dear Nymphs what must we do?   Mertilla. 

In the Posset must be brought,  
And Points be from the Bridegroom caught.   Cloris. 

In Masks, in Dances, and delight,  
And rear Banquets spend the night:  
Then about the Room we ramble,  
Scatter Nuts, and for them scamble:  
Over Stools, and Tables tumble,  
Never think of noise nor rumble.   Mertilla. and Claia. 

For our Tita is this day,  
Married to a noble Fay.    

The ninth Nimphall.  
MUSES and NYMPHS.  

The Muses spend their lofty lays,  
Upon Apollo and his praise;  
The Nymphs with Gems his Altar build,  
This Nimphall is with Phoebus filled.   

A Temple of exceeding state.  
The Nymphs and Muses rearing,  
Which they to Phoebus dedicate,  
Elysium ever cheering:  
These Muses, and these Nymphs contend  
This Fane to Phoebus' offering,  
Which side the other should transcend,  
These praise, those prizes proffering,  
And at this long appointed day,  
Each one their largesse bringing,  
Those nine fair Sisters led the way  
Thus to Apollo singing.   

The Muses. Thou youthful God that guid'st the hours,  
The Muses thus implore thee,  
By all those Names due to thy powers,  
By which we still adore thee.  
Sol, Titan, Delius, Cynthius, styles,  
Much reverence that have won thee,  
Derived from Mountains as from Isles  
Where worship first was done thee.  
Rich Delos brought thee forth divine,  
Thy Mother thither driven,  
At Delphos thy most sacred shrine,  
Thy Oracles were given.  
In thy swift course from East to West,  
They minutes miss to find thee,  
That bearest the morning on thy breass,  
And leav'st the night behind thes.  
Up to Olympus' top so steep,  
Thy startling Coursers currying;  
Thence down to Neptune's vasly deep,  
Thy flaming Chariot hurrying.  
Eos, Ethon, Phlegon, Pirois, proud, 
The horses drawing the Chariot of the Sun.   
Their lightning Maynes advancing:  
Breathing forth fire on every cloud  
Upon their journey prancing.  
Whose sparkling hooves, with gold for speed  
Are shod, to scape all dangers,  
Where they upon Ambrosia feed,  
In their celestial Mangers.  
Bright Colatina, that of hills 
The Mountains first saluting the Sun at his rising.   
Is Goddess, and hath keeping  
Her Nymphs, the clear Oreades wils  
Tattend theefrom thy sleeping.  
Great 
* Supposed the God of earth. One of the judges of hell.  Demogorgon feels thy might,  
His Ours about him heating:  
Who through his bosom dart'st thy light,  
Within the Centre sweeting.  
If thou but touch thy golden Lyre,  
Thou Minos movest to hear thee:  
The Rocks feel in themselves a fire,  
And rise up to come near thee.  
'Tis thou that Physic didst devose  
Herbs by their nature's calling:  
Of which some opening at thy Rise,  
And closing at thy falling.  
Fair Hyacinth thy most loved Lad,  
That with the sledge thou sluest;  
Hath in a flower the life he had,  
Whose root thou still renewest,  
Thy Daphne thy beloved Tree,  
That scorns thy Father's Thunder,  
And thy dear Clitia yet we see, 
A Nymph loved of Apollo, and by him changed into a flower.   
Not time from thee can sunder;  
From thy bright Bow that Arrow flew  
(Snatched from thy golden Quiver)  
Which that fell Serpent Python slew,  
Renowning thee for ever.  
The Actium and the Pythian Games 
Plays or Games in honour of Apollo.   
Devised were to praise thee,  
With all th' Apolinary names  
That th' Ancients thought could raise thee.  
A Shrine upon this Mountain his,  
To thee we'll have erected,  
Which thou the God of Poesy  
Must care to have proteoted:  
With thy loved Cinthus that shall share,  
With all his shady Bowers,  
Nor Licia's Cragus shall compare  
With this, for thee, of ours.   

Thus having sung, the Nimphish Crew  
Thrust in amongst them thronging,  
Desiring they might have the due  
That was to them belonging.  
Quoth they, ye Muses, as divine,  
Are in his glories graced,  
But it is we must build the Shrine  
Wherein they must be placed;  
Which of those precious Gems we'll make  
That Nature can afford us,  
Which from that plenty we will take,  
Wherewith we here have stored us:  
O glorious 〈◊〉 most divine,  
Thine Altars then we hollow.  
And with those stones we build a Shrine  
To thee our wise Apollo.   

The Nymphs. No Gem, from Rocks, Seas, running streams,  
(Their numbers let us muster)  
But hath from thy most powerful beams  
The Virtue and the Lustre;  
The Diamond, the king of Gems,  
The first is to be placed,  
That glory is of Diadems,  
Them gracing, by them graced:  
In whom thy power the most is seen,  
The raging fire refelling:  
The Enerauld then, most deeply green,  
For beauty most excelling,  
Resisting poison often proved  
By those about that bear it.  
The cheerful Ruby then, much loved,  
That doth revive the spirit,  
Whose kind to large extensure grown  
The colour so inflamed,  
Is that admired mighty stone  
The Carbunckle that's named,  
Which from it such a flaming light  
And radiency eiecteth,  
That in the very darkest of night  
The eye to it directeth.  
The yellow jacynth, strengthening Sense,  
Of which who hath the keeping,  
No Thunder hurts nor Pestilence,  
And much provoketh sleeping:  
The Chrysolit, that doth resist  
Thirst, proved, never failing,  
The purple coloured Amethyst,  
Against strength of wine prevailing;  
The verdant gay green Smaragdus,  
Most sovereign over passion;  
The Sardonix, approved by us  
To master Incantation.  
Then that celestial coloured stone  
The Sapphire, heavenly wholly,  
Which worn, there weariness is none,  
And cureth melancholy:  
The Lazulus, whose pleasant blue  
With golden veins is graced;  
The laspis, of so various how,  
Amongst our other placed;  
The Onyx, from the Ancients brought,  
Of wondrous Estimation,  
Shall in amongst the rest be wrought  
Our sacred Shrine to fashion;  
The Topas well stick here and there,  
And seagreen coloured Berill,  
And Turkess, which who haps to bear  
Is often kept from peril.  
The Solenite, of Cynthia's light,  
So 〈◊〉 with her still ranging,  
Which as she wanes or waxeth bright  
Its colours so are changing.  
With opals, more than any one,  
We'll deck thine Altar fuller,  
For that of every precious stone,  
It doth retain some colour.  
With bunches of Pearl Paragon  
Thine Altar underpropping,  
Whose base is the Cornelian,  
Strong bleeding often stopping  
With th' Agate, very oft that is  
Cut strangely in the Quarry,  
As Nature meant to show in this,  
How she herself can vary:  
With worlds of Gems from Mines and Seas  
Elysium well might store us,  
But we content ourselves with these  
That readiest lie before us:  
And thus O Phoebus most divine  
Thine Altars still we hollow,  
And to thy Godhead rear this Shrine,  
Our only wise Apollo.    

The tenth Nimphall.  
NAIIS CLAIA CORBILUS' SATYR.  

A Satire on Elysium lights,  
Whose ugly shape the Nymphs affrights,  
Yet when they hear his inst complaint,  
They make him an Elysian Saint.   Corbilus. 

WHat, breathless Nymphs? bright Virgins let me know  
What sudden cause constrains ye to this haste?  
What have ye seen that should affright ye so?  
What might it be from which ye fly so fast?  
I see your faces full of pallid fear,  
As though some peril followed on your flight;  
Take breath a while, and quickly let me hear  
Into what danger ye have lately light.   Naijs. 

Never were poor distressed Girls so glad,  
As when kind, loved Corbilus we saw,  
When our much haste us so much weakened had,  
That scarcely we our wearied breaths could draw.   

In this next Grove under an aged Tree,  
So fell a monster lying there we found,  
As till this day, our eyes did never see,  
Nor ever came on the Elysian ground.  
Half man, half 〈◊〉 he seemed to us in show,  
His upper parts our humane shape doth bear,  
But he's a very perfect Goat below,  
His crooked Cambrils armed with hose and hair.   Claia. 

Through his lean Chaps a chattering he doth make  
Which stirs his staring beastly driveld Beard,  
And his sharp horns he seemed at us to shake,  
Canst thou then blame us though we were afeard.   Corbilus. 

Surely it seems some Satire this should be,  
Come and go back and guide me to the place,  
Be not afraid, ye are safe enough with me,  
Silly and harmless be their Sylvan Race.   Claia. 

How Corbilus; a Satire do you say?  
How should he over high 〈◊〉 hit?  
Since to these Fields there's none can find the way,  
But only those the Muses will permit.   Corbilus. 

'tis true; but oft, the sacred Sister's 〈◊〉  
The silly Satire, by whose plainness, they  
Are taught the world's enormities to trace,  
By beastly men's abominable way;  
Beside he may be banished his own home  
By this base time, or be so much distressed,  
That he the craggy by-clift Hill hath clome  
To find out these more pleasant Fields of rest.   Naijs. 

Yonder he sits, and 〈◊〉 himself to how  
At our approach, what doth our 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 him?  
Me thinks he seems not half sougly now,  
As at the first, when I and Claia saw him.   Corbilus. 

'tis an old Satire, Nymph, I no 〈◊〉  
Sadly he sits, as he were sick or lame,  
His looks would say, that we may easily learn  
How, and from whence, he to 〈◊〉 came,  
Satire, these Fields, how cam'st thou first to find?  
What Fate first showed thee this most happy shore?  
When never any of thy Sylvan kind  
Set foot on the Elysian earth before?   Satire. 

O never ask, how I came to this place,  
What cannot strong necessity find out?  
Rather bemoan my miserable case,  
Constrained to wander the wide world about.  
With wild Silvanus and his woody crew,  
In Forests I, at liberty and free,  
Lived in such pleasure as the world needs knew,  
Nor anyrightly can conceive but we.  
This jocund life we many 〈◊〉 day enjoyed,  
Till this last age, those beastly men forth brought,  
That all those great and goodly Woods destroyed,  
Whose growth their Grandsires, with such sufferance sought,  
That fair Felicia which was but of late,  
Earth's Paradise, that never had her Peer,  
Stands now in that most lamentable state,  
That not a Sylvan will inhabit there;  
Where in the sost and most delicious shade,  
In heat of Summer we were wont to play,  
When the long day too short for us we made,  
The sliding hours so slyly stole away;  
By Cynthia's light, and on the pleasant Lawn,  
The wanton Fairy we were wont to chase,  
Which to the nimble cloven-footed Fawn,  
Upon the plain durst boldly bid the base.  
The sportive Nymphs, with shouts and laughter shook  
The Hills and Valleys in their wanton play,  
Waking the Echoes, their last words that took,  
Till at the last, they jowder were then they.  
The lofty high Wood, and the lower spring,  
Sheltering the Dear, in many a sudden shower;  
Where Quires of Birds, oft wont were to sing,  
The flaming Furnace wholly doth devour;  
Once fair Felicia, but now quite desaeed,  
Those Braveries gone wherein she did abound  
With dainty Groves, when she was highly graoed  
With goodly Oak, Ashe, Elm, and Beech's crowned:  
But that from heaven their judgement blinded is,  
In humane Reason it could never be,  
But that they might have clearly seen by this,  
Those plagues their next posterity shall see.  
The little Infant on the mother's Lap  
For want of fire shall be so sore distressed,  
That whilst it draws the lank and empty Pap,  
The tender lips shall frieze unto the breast;  
The quaking Cattle which their Warmstall want,  
And with bleak winter's Northern wind oppressed,  
Their Browse and Stover waxing thin and scant,  
The hungry Crows shall with their carrion feast.  
Men wanting Timber wherewith they should build,  
And not a Forest in Felicia found,  
Shall be enforced upon the open Field,  
To dig them Caves for houses in the ground:  
The Land thus robbed, of all her rich Attire,  
Naked and bare herself to heaven doth show,  
Begging from thence that love would dart his fire  
Upon those wretches that disrobed her so;  
This beastly Brood by no means may abide  
The name of their brave Ancestors to hear,  
By whom their sordid slavery is descried,  
So unlike them as though not theirs they were,  
Nor yet they sense, nor understanding have,  
Of those brave Muses that their Country song,  
But with false Lips ignobly do deprave  
The right and honour that to them belong;  
This cruel kind thus Viperlike devour  
That fruitful soil which them too fully fed;  
The earth doth curse the Age, and every hour  
Again, that it these viperous monsters bred.  
I seeing the plagues that shortly are to come.  
Upon this people clearly them forsook,  
And thus am light into Elysium,  
To whose straight search I wholly me betook.   Nays. 

Poor silly creature, come along with us,  
Thou shalt be free of the Elysian fields:  
Be not dismayed, nor inly grieved thus,  
This place content in all abundance yields.  
We to the cheerful presence will thee bring,  
Of jove's dear Daughters, where in shades they sit,  
Where thou shalt hear those sacred Sisters sing,  
Most heavenly Hymns, the strength and life of wit.   Claia. 

Where to the Delphion God upon their Lyres  
His Priests seem ravished in his height of praise:  
Whilst he is crowning his harmonious Quires,  
With circling Garlands of immortal Bays.   Corbilus. 

Here live in bliss, till thou shalt see those slaves,  
Who thus set virtue and desert at nought:  
Some sacrificed upon their Grandsire's graves,  
And some like beastsin markets sold and bought.  
Of fools and madmen leave thou then the care,  
That have no understanding of their state:  
For whom high heaven doth so just plagues prepare,  
That they to pity shall convert thy hate.  
And to Elysium be thou welcome then,  
Until those base Felicians thou shalt hear,  
By that vile nation captived again,  
That many a glorious age their captives were.     

TO the Right Noble, Religious, and truly virtuous Lady, Mary, Countess of Dorset; worthy of all Titles and Attributes, that were ever given to the most Renowned of her Sex: and of me most deservedly to be honoured. To her Fame and Memory I consecreate these my divine Poems, with all the wishes of a grateful heart; for the preservation of her, and her Children, the Succeeding Hopes of the Ancient and Noble Family of the Sackuiles.  
Her Servant, MICHAEL DRAYTON.   

NOAH'S FLOOD.  

ETemall and all-working God, which waist  
Before the world, whose frame by thee was cast,  
And beautified with beamefull lamps above,  
By thy great wisdom set how they should move  
To guide the seasons, equally to all,  
Which come and go as they do rise and fall.   

My mighty Maker, O do thou infuse  
Such life and spirit into my labouring Muse,  
That I may sing (what but from Noah thou hidest)  
The greatest thing that ever yet thou didst  
Since the Creation; that the world may see  
The Muse is heavenly, and derived from thee.   

O let thy glorious Angel which since kept 
A love Musa.   
That gorgeous Eden, where once Adam slept;  
When tempting Eve was taken from his side,  
Let him great God not only be my guide,  
But with his fiery Falchion still be nigh,  
To keep affliction far from me, that I  
With a free soul thy wondrous works may show,  
Then like that Deluge shall my numbers flow,  
Telling the state wherein the earth than stood,  
The Giant race, the universal flood.   

The fruitful earth being lusty then and strong,  
Like to a Woman, fit for love, and young,  
Brought forth her creatures mighty, not a thing  
Issued from her, but a continual spring  
Had to increase it, and to make it flourish,  
For in herself she had that power to nourish  
Her Procreation, that her children than  
Were at the instant of their birth, half men.  
Men than begot so soon, and got so long,  
That scarcely one a thousand men among,  
But he ten thousand in his time might see,  
That from his loins derived their Pedigree.  
The full-wombed Women, very hardly went  
Out their nine months, abundant nature lent  
Their fruit such thriving, as that once waxed quick,  
The large-limbed mother, neither faint nor sick,  
Hasted her hour by her abundant health,  
Nature so played the unthrist with her wealth,  
So prodigally lavishing her store  
Upon the teeming earth, then wasting more  
Than it had need of: not the smallest weed 
The fruitfulness and bravery of the earth before the Flood.   
Known in that first age, but the natural seed  
Made it a Plant, to these now since the Flood,  
So that each Garden looked then like a Wood:  
Beside, in Med'cen, simples had that power,  
That none need then the Planetary hour  
To help their working, they so ivycefull were.  
The Winter and the Spring time of the year  
Seemed all one season: that most stately tree  
Of Libanus, which many times we see  
Mentioned for tallness in the holy Writ,  
Whose tops the clouds oft in their wand'ring hit,  
Were shrubs to those then on the earth that grew;  
Nor the most sturdy storm that ever blew  
Their big-growne bodies, to the earth ere shaken,  
Their mighty Roots, so certain fastening took;  
Covered with grass, more soft than any silk,  
The Trees dropped honey, & the Springs gushed milk:  
The Flower-fleeced Meadow, & the gorgeous grove,  
Which should smell sweetest in their bravery, strove;  
No little shrub, but it some Gum let fall,  
To make the clear Air aromatical:  
Whilst to the little Birds melodious strains,  
The trembling Rivers tripped along the Plains.  
Shades served for houses, neither Heat nor Cold  
Troubled the young, nor yet annoyed the old:  
The battening earth all plenty did afford,  
And without tilling (of her own accord)  
That living idly without taking pain  
(Like to the first) made every man a Caine.  
Seven hundred years, a man's age scarcely then,  
Of mighty size so were these long-lived men:  
The flesh of Lions, and of Bulls they tore,  
Whose skins those Giants for their garments wore.  
Yet not termed Giants only, for that they  
Excelled men since, in bigness every way:  
Nor that they were so puissant of their hand,  
But that the Race wherewith the earth was maned,  
So wrathful, proud, and tyrannous were then,  
Not dreading God, nor yet respecting men; 
Josepbus.   
For they knew neither Magistrate, nor law,  
Nor could conceive aught that their wills could awe;  
For which waxed proud, & haughty in their thought,  
They set th'eternal living God at naught:  
Mankind increasing greatly every day,  
Their sins increase in numbers more than they;  
Seven Ages had past Adam, when men prone  
To tyranny, and no man knew his own:  
His sensual will then followed, and his lust,  
His only law, in those times to be just  
Was to be wicked; God so quite forgot,  
As what was damned, that in that age was not.  
With one another's flesh themselves they filled,  
And drunk the blood of those whom they had killed.  
They dared to do, what none should dare to name,  
They never heard of such a thing as shame.  
Man mixed with man, and Daughter, Sister, Mother, 
Berosus cited by Pirerius:   
Were to these wicked men as any other.  
To rip their women's wombs, they would not stick,  
When they perceived once they were 〈◊〉 quick.  
Feeding on that, from their own loins that sprung,  
Such wickedness these Monsters was among:  
That they used Beasts, digressing from all kind:  
That the Almighty pondering in his mind  
Their beastliness, (from his intent) began  
T'repent himself that he created man.  
Their sins ascending the Almighty's seat,  
Th'eternal Throne with horror seem to threat.  
Still daring God, a war with them to make,  
And of his power, no knowledge seemed to take.  
So that he vowed, the world he would destroy,  
Which he revealed only to just Noy.  
For but that man, none worthy was to know,  
Nor he the manner to none else would show.  
For since with stars, he first high heaven enchased,  
And Adam first in Paradise had placed.  
Amongst all those inhabiting the ground,  
He not a man so just as No had found.  
For which he gave him charge an Ark to build,  
And by those workmen which were deepliest skilled  
In Architecture, to begin the frame,  
And thus th'Almighty taught just No the same.  
Three hundred cubits the full length to be, 
The structure of the Ark.   
Fifty the breadth, the height (lest of the three)  
Full thirty cubits: only with one light,  
A cubit broad, and just so much in height:  
And in three Stories bade him to divide  
The inner Room, and in the Vessels side  
To place a door; commanding No to take  
Great care thereof: and this his Ark to make  
Of Gopher wood, which some will needsly have  
To be the Pinetree, and commandment gave  
That the large planks whereof it was composed,  
When they by art should curiously be closed;  
Should with Bitumen both within and out  
Be deeply pitched, the Vessel round about,  
So strong a Glue as could not off be worn,  
The rage of Winds, and Waters that doth scorn;  
Like to a Chest or Coffer it was framed,  
For which an Ark most fitly it was named;  
Not like a Ship, for that a Ship below,  
Is ridged and narrow, upward but doth grow  
Wider and wider: but this mighty Bark,  
Built by just Noah, this universal Ark,  
Held one true breadth ' ith'bottome as above,  
That when this Frame upon the Flood should move,  
On the fallen waters it should float secure,  
As it did first the falling shower endure;  
And close above, so to bear out the weather  
For forty days when it should rain together.   

A hundred years the Ark in building was,  
So long the time ere he could bring to pass  
This work intended; all which time just Noy  
Cried, that th'Almighty would the world destroy,  
And as this good man used many a day  
To walk abroad, his building to survey,  
These cruel Giants coming in to see,  
(In their thoughts wondering what this work should be)  
He with erected hands to them doth cry,  
Either repent ye, or ye all must dye, 
Noah threatening Gods vengeance upon the world: with his sermon of repentance:   
Who else to mercy, wholly is inclined.  
From Seth which God to Eva gave in law  
Of her son Abel whom his brother slew,  
That cursed Cain, how hath th' Almighty blessed,  
The seed of Adam though be sotransgrest,  
In Enos by whose godliness men came,  
At first to call on the Almighty's name,  
And Enoch, whose integrity was such,  
In whom the Lord delighted was so much,  
As in his years he suffered no decay,  
But God to Heaven took bodily away;  
With long life blessing all that goodly Stem,  
From the first man down to Mathusalem,  
Now from the loins of Lamech sendeth me,  
(Unworthy his Ambassador to be)  
To tell ye yet, if ye at last repent,  
He will lay by his wrathful punishment,  
That God who was so merciful before,  
To our forefathers, likewise hath in store,  
Mercy for us their Nephews, if we fall  
With tears before him, and he will recall,  
His wrath sent out already, therefore fly  
To him for mercy, yet the threatening Sky  
Pauses, ereit the 〈◊〉 down will pour,  
For every tear you shed, he'll stop a shower,  
Yet of th' Almighty mercy you may win,  
He'll leave to punish, if you leave to sin,  
That God eternal, which old Adam cast  
Out of the earthly heaven where he had placed,  
That first-made man, for his forbidden deed,  
From thence for ever banishing his seed,  
For us his sinful children doth provide,  
And with abundance hath us still supplied,  
And can his blessings who respects you thus,  
Make you most wicked, most rebellious:  
Still is your stubborn obstinacy such?  
Have ye no mercy, and your God so much?  
Your God, said I, O wherefore said I so?  
Your words deny him, and your works say 〈◊〉  
O see the day, doth but too fast approach,  
Wherein heavens maker means to set abroach  
That world of water, which shall overflow  
Those mighty Mountains whereon now you go,  
The Dropsied Clouds, see, your destruction threat,  
The Sun and Moon both in their course are set  
To war by water, and do all'they can  
To bring destruction upon sinful man,  
And every thing shall suffer for your sake,  
For the whole earth shall be but one whole Lake;  
Oh cry for mercy, leave your wicked ways,  
And God from time shall separate those days  
Of vengeance coming, and he shall disperse  
These Clouds now threatening the whole universe,  
And save the world, which else he will destroy.   

But this good man, this terror-preaching Noy,  
The Bears, and Tigers, might have taught aswell,  
They laughed to hear this godly man to tell  
That God would drown the world, they thought him mad,  
For their great maker they forgotten had,  
They knew none such, th'Almighty God say they,  
What might he be? and when shall be the day  
Thou talk'st of to us? canst thou think that we  
Can but suppose that such a thing can be?  
What can he do that we cannot defeat?  
Whose Brawny Fists, to very dust can beat  
The solid'st Rock, and with our breasts can bear  
The strongest Stream backward, dost thou think to fear  
Us with these Dreams of Deluges? to make  
Us our own ways and courses to forsake?  
Let us but see that God that dares to stand  
To what thou speakest, that with his furious hand,  
Dare say he'll drown us, and we will desye  
Him to his teeth: and if he keep the Sky,  
We'll dare him thence, and if he than come down,  
And challenge us that he the world will drown,  
We'll follow him until his threats he stints,  
Or we will batter his blue house with flynts.   

The Ark is finished, and the Lord is wrath,  
To aid just Noah, and he provided hath  
His blessed Angels, bidding them to bring.  
The Male and Female, of each living thing  
Into the Ark, by whom he had decreed  
〈◊〉 the world, and by their fruitful seed  
To fill it as before, and is precise  
For food for men, and for his sacrifice,  
That seven just pairs, of Birds, and Beasts that were  
Made clean by him, should happily repair  
To the great Ark, the other made uncleant,  
Of male and female only should cometwaine:  
Which by the Angels every where were sought,  
And thither by their ministry were brought.  
When Noah lets open the Ark and doth begin  
To take his Fraught, his mighty. Lading in  
And now the Beasts are walking from the wood,  
A swell of Ravine, as that chew the Cud,  
The King of Beasts his fury doth suppress,  
And to the Ark leads down the Lioness,  
The Bull for his beloved mate doth low,  
And to the Ark brings on the fair eyed Cow;  
The stately Courser for his Mare doth nay,  
And towards the new Ark guideth her the way;  
The wreath'd-horned Ram his safety doth pursue,  
And to the Ark ushers his gentle Ewe;  
The bristy Boar, who with his snout up ploughed  
The spacious Plains, and with his grunting loud,  
Raised rattling Echoes all the Woods about,  
Leaves his dark Den, and having scented out  
Noah's new-built Ark, in with his Sow doth come,  
And sty themseluesup in a little room:  
The Hart with his dear Hind, the Buck and Do,  
Leaving their wildness, bring the tripping Roe  
Along with them: and from the Mountain steep,  
The clambering Goat, and Coney, used to keep  
Amongst the Cleeves, together get, and they  
To this great Ark find out the ready way;  
Th'unwieldy Elk, whose skin is of much proof,  
Throngs with the rest t'attain this wooden roof;  
The Unicorn leaves off his pride, and close  
There sets him down by the Rhinoceros:  
The Elephant there coming to embark,  
And as he softly getteth up the Ark,  
Feeling by his great weight, his body sunk,  
Holds by his huge Tooth, and his nervy Trunk;  
The croock-backt Camel climbing to the deck,  
Draws up himself with his long sinewy neck;  
The spotted Panther whose delicious scent,  
Ost causeth beasts his harbour to frequent,  
But having got them once into his power,  
Sucketh their blood, and doth their flesh devour,  
His 〈◊〉 hath quickly castaside,  
And waxing courteous, doth become their guide.  
And brings into this universal Shop  
The Ounce, the Tigar, and the Antelope,  
By the grim Wolf, the poor Sheep safely lay,  
And was his care, which lately was his prey;  
The Ass upon the Lion leaned his head,  
And to the Cat the Mouse for succour fled;  
The silly Hare doth cast aside her fear,  
And forms herself fast by the ugly Bear,  
At whom the watchful Dog did never bark,  
When he espied him clambering up the Ark:  
The Fox got in, his subtleties hath lest,  
And as ashamed of his former thest,  
Sadly sits there, as though he did repent,  
And in the Ark became an innocent:  
The fine-furd Ermine, Martern, and the Cat  
That voideth Civet, there together sat  
By the shrewd Muncky, Babian, and the Ape,  
With the Hyena, much their like in shape,  
Which by their kind, are ever doing ill,  
Yet in the Ark, sit civilly and still;  
The skipping Squirrel of the Forest free,  
That leapt so nimbly betwixt tree and tree,  
Itself into the Ark then nimbly cast,  
As'twere a Ship-boy come to climb the Mast.  
The Porcupine into the Ark doth make,  
Nor his sharp quills though angry once doth shake;  
The sharpe-fanged Beaver, whose wide gaping law  
Cutteth down Plants at it were with a Saw,  
Whose body poised, weigheth such a mass,  
As though his Bowels were of Lead or Brass,  
His cruel Chaps though breathless he doth close,  
As with the rest into the Ark he goes.  
Th'uneven-legged Badger (whose eye-pleasing skin,  
The Case to many a curious thing hath been,  
Since that great flood) his fortresses forsakes  
Wrought in the earth, and though but halting, makes  
Up to the Ark; the Otter then that keeps  
In the wild Rivers, in their Banks and Sleeps,  
And seeds on Fish, which under water still,  
He with his keld seet, and keen teeth doth kill;  
The other two into the Ark doth follow,  
Though his ill shape doth cause him but to wallow;  
The Tortoise and the Hedgehog both so slow,  
As in their motion scarce discerned to go,  
Good footmen grown, contrary to their kind,  
Lest from the rest they should be left behind;  
The rooting Mole as to foretell the flood,  
Comes out of th'earth, and clambers up the wood;  
The little Dormouse leaves her leaden sleep,  
And with the Mole up to the Ark doth creep,  
With many other, which were common then,  
Their kind decayed, but now unknown to men,  
For there was none, that Adam ere did name,  
But to the Ark from every quarter came;  
By two and two the male and female beast,  
From th'swifts to th'slowest, from greatest to the least,  
And as within the strong pale of a Park,  
So were they altogether in the Ark.   

And as our God the Beasts had given in charge  
To take the Ark, themselves so to imbardge,  
He bids the Fowl, the Eagle in his flight,  
Cleaving the thin Air, on the deck doth light;  
Nor are his eyes so plercing to control  
His lowly subjects the far lesser Fowl,  
But the Almighty who all Creatures framed,  
And them by Adam in the Garden named,  
Had given courage, fast by him to sit,  
Nor at his sharp sight are amazed one whit;  
The Swan by his great maker taught this good,  
T'avoid the fury of the falling flood,  
His Boat-like breast, his wings raised for his sail,  
And Ore-like foet, him nothing to avail  
Against the Rain which likely was to fall,  
Each drop so great, that like a ponderous Mall,  
Might sink him under water, and might drown  
Him in the Deluge, with the Crane comes down,  
Whose voice the Trumpet is, that throw the Air  
Doth summon all the other to repair  
To the new Ark: when with his mooned train,  
The strutting Peacock yawling against the rain,  
Flutters into the Ark, by his shrill cry,  
Telling the rest the Tempest to be nigh;  
The Iron-eating Ostrich, whose bare Thighs  
Resembling man's, searing the lowering Skies,  
Walks to the great Boat; when the crowned Cock,  
That to the Village lately was the Clock,  
Comes to rooste by him, with his Hen, foreshowing  
The shower should quickly fall, that then was brewing;  
The swift winged Swallow feeding as it flies,  
With the fleet Martlet thrilling throw the Skies,  
As at their pastime sportiuly they were,  
Feeling th'unusual moisture of the Aer,  
Their feathers flag, into the Ark they come,  
As to some Rock or building, their own home;  
The airy Lark his Haleluiah sung,  
Finding a slackness seize upon his tongue,  
By the much moisture, and the Welkin dark,  
Drops with his female down into the Ark;  
The soaring Kite there scantled his large wings,  
And to the Ark the hover Castrill brings;  
The Raven comes, and croaking, in doth call  
The carrion Crow, and she again doth brawl,  
Foretelling rain; by these there likewise sat 
The Stork used to build upon houses, leaveth ever one 〈◊〉 him for the owner.   
The caresull Storke, since Adam wondered at  
For thankfulness, to those where he doth breed,  
That his aged Parents naturally doth feed,  
In filial duty as instructing man:  
By them there sat the loving Pelican,  
Whose young ones poisoned by the Serpent's sting,  
With her own blood to life again doth bring:  
The constant Turtle up her lodging took  
By these good Birds; and in a little nook  
The Nightingale with her melodious tongue  
Sadly there sits, as she had never sung;  
The Merle and Mavis on the highest spray,  
Who with their music, waked the early day,  
From the proud Cedars, to the Ark come down,  
As though forewarned, that God the world would drown;  
The prating Parrot comes to them aboard,  
And is not heard to counterfeit a word;  
The Falcon and the Dove sit there together,  
And th'one of them doth prune the others feather;  
The Goshalke and the pheasant there do twin,  
And in the Ark are perched upon one pin;  
The Partridge on the Sparhalk there doth tend,  
Who entertains her as a loving friend;  
The ravenous Vulture feels the small Birds sit  
Upon his back, and is not moved a whit;  
Amongst the thickest of these several fowl  
With open eyes still sat the broad saced Owl;  
And not a small bird as they wont were.  
Either pursued or wondered at her there  
No wayless desert, Heath, nor Fen, nor More,  
But in by couples, sent some of their store;  
The Ospray, and the Cormoraut forbear  
To fish, and thither with the rest repair:  
The Hearon leaves watching at the River's brim,  
And brings the Snyte and Plover in with him.  
There came the Halcyon, whom the Sea obeys,  
When she her nest upon the water lays:  
The Goose which doth for watchfulness excel,  
Came for the rest, to be the Sentinel.  
The charitable Robinet in came,  
Whose nature taught the others to be tame:  
All feathered things yet ever known to men,  
From the huge Rucke, unto the little Wren;  
From Forests, Fields, from Rivers, and from Pons, 
The mighty Indian Bird.   
All that have webs, or cloven-footed ones;  
To the Grand Ark, together friendly came,  
Whose severoll species were too long to name:   

The Beasts and Birds thus by the Angels brought,  
No found his Ark not fully yet was sraught,  
To shut it up for as he did begin, 
Creeping things in the sixth of 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
He still saw Serpents, and their like come in;  
The Salamander to the Ark retyers,  
To fly the Flood, it doth forsake the fires:  
The strange Chameleon, comes t'augment the crew,  
Yet in the Ark doth never change her hue:  
To these poor silly few of harmless things,  
So were there Serpents, with their teeth and stings  
Hurtful to man, yet will th'Almighty have,  
That No their seed upon the earth should save:  
The watchful Dragon comes the Ark to keep,  
But lulled with murmur, gently falls to sleep:  
The cruel Scorpion comes to climb the pylo,  
And meeting with the greedy Crocodyle,  
Into the Ark together meekly go,  
And like kind mates themselves they there bestow:  
The Dart and Dipsas, to the Ark come in,  
Enfold each other as they were a twin.  
The Cockatrice there kills not with his sight,  
But in his object joys, and in the Light; 
The Aspic hath a kell of skin which covereth his teeth until it be angry.   
The deadly kill Aspic when he seeth,  
This world of creatures, sheaths his poisoned teeth,  
And with the Adder, and the speckled Snake,  
Them to a corner harmlesty betake.  
The Lisard shuts up his sharp-sighted eyes,  
Amongst these Serpents, and there sadly lies.  
The small-eyed slowe-worme held of many blind,  
Yet this great Ark it quickly out could find,  
And as the Ark it was about to climb,  
Out of its teeth shutes the envenomed slime.  
Theseviler Creatures on the earth that creep,  
And with their bellies the cold dews do 〈◊〉  
All these base grovelling, and ground-licking suit,  
From the large 
* A Serpent of an incredible bigness.  Boas, to the little Newt;  
As well as Birds, or the fourfooted beasts,  
Came to the Ark their Hostry as noah's guests.   

Thus fully furnished, No need not to cark  
For stowidge, for provision for the Ark:  
For that wise God, who first direction gave,  
How he the structure of the Ark would have:  
And for his servant could provide this fraught,  
Which thither he miraculously brought:  
And did the food for every thing purvey,  
Taught him on losts it orderly to say:  
On flesh some feed, as others fish do eat,  
Various the kind, so various was the meat:  
Some on fine grass, as some on grosser weeds,  
As some on fruits, so other some on seeds,  
To serve for food for one whole year for all,  
Until the Flood, which presently should fall  
On the whole world, his hand again should drain,  
Which under water should that while remain.  
Th'Almighty measured the proportion such,  
As should not be too little, nor too much:  
For he that breath to every thing did give,  
Could not that God them likewise make to live,  
But with a little; and therewith to thrive,  
Who at his pleasure all things can contrive.   

Now some there be, too curious at this day,  
That from their reason dare not stick to say,  
The Flood a thing fictitious is, and vain,  
Nor that the Ark could possibly contain  
Those sundry creatures, from whose being came  
All living things man possibly could name.  
I say it was not, and I thus oppose  
Them by my reason, strong enough for those,  
My instance is a mighty Argosy,  
That in it bears, beside th' Artillery,  
Of fourscore pieces of a mighty Boar,  
A thousand soldiers (many times and more)  
Besides the sails, and arms for every one,  
Cordage, and Anchors, and provision:  
The large-spred sails, the Masts both big and tall,  
Of all which Noah's Ark had no need at all:  
Within the same eight persons only were,  
If such a ship, can such a burden bear:  
What might the Ark do, which doth so excel  
That Ship, as that ship doth a Cockle shell;  
Being so capacious for this mighty load,  
So long, so high, and every where so broad;  
Beside three lofts just of one perfect strength,  
And bearing out proportionably in length:  
So fitly built, that being thus employed,  
There was not one inch in the Ark was void,  
Beside I'll charge their reason to allow  
The Cubits doubled to what they are now,  
We are but Pigmeyes, (even our tallest men)  
To the huge Giants that were living then:  
For but th' Almighty, which (to this intent,)  
Ordained the Ark, knew it sufficient,  
He in his wisdom (had he thought it meet)  
Could have bid Noah to have built a Fleet,  
And many Creatures on the earth since grown  
Before the flood that were to Noah unknown:  
For though the Mule begotten on the Mare,  
By the dull Ass (is said) doth never pair;  
Yet sundry others, naturally have mixed, 
The opinions of the best naturalists that have written.   
And those that have been gotten them betwixt  
Others begot, on others from their kind.  
In sundry Climates, sundry beasts we find,  
That what they were, are nothing now the same,  
From oneself strain, though at the first they came:  
But by the soil they often altered be,  
In shape and colour as we daily see.   

Now Noah's three sons all busy that had been  
To place these creatures as they still came in:  
Sem, Ham, and japheth, with their 
* The names of the women were Tita, Pandora, No. ella and Noegla: as some of the most ancient write, but Epiphanius will have noah's Wife's name to be Baraehenon.  Wives assigned,  
To be the Parents of all humane kind:  
Seeing the Ark thus plentifully stored:  
The wondrous work of the Almighty Lord,  
Behold their father looking every hour,  
For this all drowning earth-destroying shower,  
When No their faith thus lastly to awake,  
To his loved Wife, and their six children spoke.   

The mighty hand of God do you not see,  
In these his creatures, that so well agree:  
Which were they not, thus mastered by his power,  
Us silly eight would greedily devour:  
And with their hooves and paws, to splintersrend  
This only Ark, in which God doth intend  
We from the Flood that remnant shall remain,  
T'restore the world, in aged Adam's strain:  
Ye seven, with sad astonishment then seo  
The wondrous things the Lord hath wrought for me.  
What have I done, so gracious in his sight,  
Frail wretched man, but that I justly might  
Have with the earth's abominable brood,  
Been overwhelmed, and buried in the Flood:  
But in his judgement, that he hath decreed,  
That from my loins by your successful seed,  
The earth shall be replenished again,  
And the Almighty be at peace with men.  
A hundred years' aro passed (as well you know)  
Since the Almighty God, his power to show  
Taught me the Model of this mighty frame,  
And it the Arks commanded me to name.  
Be strong in faith, for now the time is nigh,  
That from the conducts of the lofty sky,  
The Flood shall fall, that in short time shall bear  
This Ark we are in up into the air,  
Where it shall float, and further in the end,  
Shall fifteen cubits the highest hills transcend.  
Then bid the goodly fruitful earth adieu,  
For the next time it shall be seen of you,  
It with an ill complexion shall appear,  
The weight of waters shall have changed her cheer:  
Be not affrighted, when ye hear the roar  
Of the wide Waters when they charge the shore,  
Nor be dismad at all, when you shall feel  
Th' unweeldy Ark from wave to wave to reel:  
Nor at the 〈◊〉 of those that swimming by  
On Trees and Rafters, shall for succour cry,  
O ye most loved of God, O take us 〈◊〉  
For we are guilty, and confess our sin.   

Thus whilst he spoke, the skies grew thick and dark,  
And a black cloud hung hover o'er the Ark.  
Verus and Mars, God puts this work upon 
God makes the Stars his instruments to punish the wicked.   
jupiter and Saturn in conjunction  
I'th' tail of Cancer, inundations threat.  
Luna disposed generally to wet,  
The Hiades and Pliades put too  
Their helps; Orion doth what he can do.  
No star so small, but some one drop let down.  
And all conspire the wicked world to drown:  
On the wide heaven there was not any sign,  
To watery Pisces but it doth incline.   

Now some will ask, when th' Almighty God, (but Noy  
And his) by waters did the world destroy;  
Wherher those seven then in Ark were good,  
And just as he, (reserved from the Flood)  
Or that th' Almighty for his only sake,  
Did on the other such compassion take:  
'Tis doubtless No, being one so clearly just,  
Tha God did with his secret judgements trust  
From the whole world; one that so long had known  
That living Lord, would likewise teach his own  
To know him too, who by this means might be,  
As well within the Covenant as he.   

By this the Sun had sucked up the vast deep,  
And in gross clouds like Cesternes did it keep:  
The 〈◊〉 and signs by Gods great wisdom set, 
A description of the Tempest, at the falling of the Deluge.   
By their conjunctions waters to beget,  
Had wrought their utmost; and even now began  
Th' Almighty's justice upon sinful man:  
From every several quarter of theskye,  
The Thunder roars, and the fierce Lightnings fly  
One at another, and together dash,  
Volue on volue, flash comes after flash:  
Heavens lights look sad, as they would melt away,  
The night is come i'th' morning of the day:  
The Cardinal Windes he makes at once to blow,  
Whose blasts to buffets with such fury go,  
That they themselves into the Centre shot  
Into the bowels of the earth and got,  
Being condensed and strongly stiffened there,  
In such strange manner multiplied the air,  
Which turned to water, and increased the springs 
Water is but air condensed.   
To that abundance, that the earth forth brings  
Water to drown herself, should heaven deny,  
With one small drop the Deluge to supply,  
That through her pores, the soft and spongy earth,  
As in a dropsy, or unkindly birth,  
A Woman, swollen, sends from her fluxive womb  
Her woosie springs, that there was scarcely room  
For the waste waters which came in so fast,  
As though the earth her entrailes up would cast.  
But these seemed yet, but easily let go,  
And from some Sluice came softly in, and slow,  
Till Gods great hand so squeezed the boisterous clouds,  
That from the spouts of heaven's embatteld shrouds,  
Even like a Floodgate plucked up by the height,  
Came the wild rain, with such a ponderous weight,  
As that the fierceness of the hurrying flood,  
Removed huge Rocks, and rammed them into mud:  
Pressing the ground, with that impetuous power,  
As that the first shock of this drowning shower,  
Furrowed the earth's late plump and cheerful face  
Like an old Woman, that in little space  
With ryveld cheeks, and with bleared blubbered eyes,  
She wistly looked upon the troubled skies.  
Up to some Mountain as the people make,  
Driving their cattle till the shower should slake;  
The Flood o'ertakes them, and away doth sweep  
Great herds of Neat, and mighty flocks of Sheep.  
Down through a valley as one stream doth come,  
Whose roaring strikes the neighbouring Echo dumb:  
Another meets it, and whilst there they strive,  
Which of them two the other back should drive;  
Their dreadful currents they together dash,  
So that their waves like furious Tides do wash  
The head of some near hill, which falleth down  
For very fear, as it, itself would drown.  
Some back their Beasts, so hoping to swim out,  
But by the Flood, encompassed about  
Are overwhelmed, some clamber up to Towers,  
But these and them, the deluge soon devours:  
Some to the top of Pines and Cedars get,  
Thinking themselves they safely there should set:  
But the rude Flood that over all doth sway,  
Quickly comes up, and carrieth them away.  
The Roes much swiftness, doth no more avail, 
The Roe Dear the swiftest Beast 〈◊〉   
Nor help him now, then if he were a Snail:  
The swift-winged Swallow, and the slow-winged Owl,  
The fleetest Bird, and the most flagging Fowl,  
Are at one pass, the Flood so high hath gone,  
There was no ground to set a foot upon:  
Those Fowl that followed moistness, now it fly,  
And leave the wet Land, to find out the dry:  
But by the mighty tempest beaten down,  
On the blank water they do lie and drown:  
The strong-built Tower is quickly overborne,  
The o'ergrown Oak out of the earth is torn:  
The subtle shower the earth hath softened so,  
And with the waves, the trees tossed to and fro;  
That the roots loosen, and the tops down sway,  
So that whole Forests quickly swim away.  
Th' offended heaven had shut up all her lights,  
The Sun nor Moon make neither days nor nights:  
The waters so exceedingly abound  
That in short time the Sea itself is drowned.  
That by the freshness of the falling rain,  
Neptune no more his saltness doth retain:  
So that those scaly creatures used to keep,  
The mighty wastes of the immeasured deep:  
Finding the general and their natural brack,  
The taste and colour every were to lack;  
Forsake those Seas wherein they swam before,  
Strangely oppressed with their 〈◊〉 store.  
The crooked Dolphin on those Mountain's plays,  
Whereas before that time, not many days  
The Goat was grazing; and the mighty Whale,  
Upon a Rock out of his way doth fall:  
From whence before one easily might have seen,  
The wand'ring clouds far under to have been.  
The Grampus, and the Whirlpool, as they rove,  
Lighting by chance upon a lofty Grove  
Under this world of waters, are so much  
Pleased with their wombs each tender branch to touch,  
That they leave slime upon the curled Sprays,  
On which the Birds sung their harmonious Lays.  
As huge as Hills still waves are wallowing in,  
Which from the world so wondrously do win,  
That the tall Mountains which on tiptoe stood.  
As though they scorned the force of any flood,  
No eye os heaven of their proud tops could see  
One foot, from this great inundation free.  
As in the Chaos ere the frame was fixed 
A simile of the 〈◊〉 of the Deluge.   
The Air and water were so strongly mixed,  
And such a Bulk of Grossness do compose,  
As in those thick Clouds which the Globe enclose,  
Th'all-working Spirit were yet again to wade,  
And heaven and earth again were to be made.  
Mean while this great and universal Ark,  
Like one by night were groping in the dark,  
Now by one Billow, than another rocked,  
Within whose boards all living things were locked;  
Yet Noah his safety not at all doth fear,  
For still the Angels his blessed Barge do 〈◊〉  
But now the Shower continued had so long,  
The inundation waxed so wondrous strong,  
That fifteen Cubits caused the Ark to move  
The highest part of any Hill above:  
And the gross earth so violently binds,  
That in their Coasts it had enclosed the winds;  
So that the whole wide sursace of the flood,  
As in the full height of the tide it stood,  
Was then as sleek and even as the Seas  
In the most still and calmest Halcyon days:  
The Birds, the Beasts and Serpents safe on board,  
With admiration look upon their Lord,  
The righteous Noah: and with submissive fear,  
Tremble his grave and awful voice to hear,  
When to his Household (during their abode)  
He preached the power of the Almighty God.   

Dear wife and children, quoththis godly Noy, 
Noah preaching faith to his family.   
Since the Almighty vowed he would destroy  
The wicked world a hundred years are past,  
And see, he hath performed it at last;  
In us poor few, the world consists alone,  
And besides us, there not remaineth one,  
But from our seed, the emptied earth again,  
Must be repeopled with the race of men;  
Then since thus far his covenant is true  
Build ye your faith, on that which shall ensue:  
Such is our God, who thus did us embark  
(As his select) to save us by the Ark,  
And only he whose Angels guard our Boat,  
Knows over what strange Region now we float,  
Or we from hence that very place can sound,  
From which the Ark was lifted first from ground:  
He that can span the world, and with a grip,  
Out of the bowels of the clouds could rip  
This mass of waters, whose abundant birth;  
Almost to heaven thus drowneth up the earth;  
He canremove this Round of he shall please,  
And with these water's cansup up the Seas,  
Can cause the Stars out of their Spheres to fall,  
And on the winds can toss this earthy Ball,  
He can wrest drops from the Sun's radiant beams,  
And can force fire from the most liquid streams,  
He curls the waves with whirlwinds, and doth make  
The solid Centre fearfully to shake,  
He can stir up the Elements to warroes,  
And at his pleasure can compose their jars,  
The Sands serve not his wondrous works to count,  
Yet doth his mercy all his works surmount,  
His Rule and Power eternally endures,  
He was your Father's God, he's mine, ho's yours,  
In him dedre wife and children put your trust,  
He only is Almighty, only just.   

But on the earth the waters were so strong,  
And now the flood continued had so long,  
That the let year foreslowed about to bring  
The Summer, Autumn, Winter, and the Spring,  
The Gyring Planets with their starry train, 
The revolution of the year by a short 〈◊〉   
Down to the South had sunk, and rose again  
Up towards the North, whilst the terrestrial Globe  
Had been involued in this watery Robe,  
During which season every winckling light  
In their still motion, at this monstrous sight,  
By their complexion a distraction showed,  
Looking like Embers that through ashes glowed.  
When righteous Noah remembreth at the last,  
The time prefixed to be approaching fast,  
After a hundred fifty days were gone,  
Which to their period then were drawing on,  
The flood should somewhat slack, God promised so,  
On which relying, the just godly No,  
To try if then but one poor foot of ground,  
Free from the flood might any where be found,  
Le's forth a Raven, which strait cuts the Sky,  
And wondrous proud his restyed wings to try,  
In a large circle girdeth in the Air,  
First to the East, then to the South, doth bear,  
Follows the Sun, then towards his going forth,  
And then runs up into the rising North,  
Thence climbs the clouds to prove if his sharp eye  
From that proud pitch could possibly desory  
Of some tall Rock crowned Mountain, a small stone  
A minute's space to set his foot upon,  
But finding his long labour but in vain,  
Returneth wearied to the Ark again,  
By which Noah knew he longer yet must stay,  
For the whole earth still under water lay.   

Seven days he rests, but yet he would not cease,  
(For that he knew the flood must needs decreasc)  
But as the Raven late, he next send 〈◊〉 out  
The damask coloured Dove, his nimble Scout,  
Which thrills the thin Air, and his pyneons plies,  
That like to lightning, gliding through the Skies,  
His sundry coloured feathers by the Sun,  
As his swift shadow on the Lake doth run,  
Causeth a twinkling both at hand and far,  
Like that we call the shooting of a Star;  
But finding yet that labour lost had been,  
Comes back to Noah, who gently takes him in,   

Noah rests a while, but meaning still to proud  
A second search, again sends out the Dove,  
After other seven, some better news to bring,  
Which by the strength of his unwearied wing  
Finds out atlast, a place for his abode,  
When the glad Bird stays all the day abroad,  
And wondrous proud that he a place had found,  
Who of a longtime had not touched the ground,  
Draws in his head, and thrusteth out his breast,  
Spreadeth his tail, and swelleth up his crest,  
And turning round and round with Cuttry cooe,  
As when the female Pigeon and he woo;  
Bathing himself, which long he had not done,  
And dries his feathers in the welcome Sun,  
Piuning his plumage, cleansing every quill,  
And going back, he beareth in his bill  
An Olive leaf, by which Noah understood  
The great decrease and waning of the flood:  
For that on Mountain's Olives seldom grow,  
But in flat Valleys and in places low;  
Never such comfort came to mortal man,  
Never such joy was since the world began,  
As in the Ark, when Noah and his behold  
The Olive leaf, which certainly them told,  
The flood decreased, and they such comfort take,  
That with their mirth, the Birds and Beasts they make  
Sportrue, which send forth such a hollow noise  
As said they were partakers of their joys.  
The Lion roars, but quickly doth for bear,  
Lest he thereby the lesser Beasts should fear,  
The Bull doth bellow, 〈◊〉 the Horse doth nay,  
The Stag, the Buck, and 〈◊〉 Goat do bray,  
The Boar doth grunt, the Wolf doth howl, the Ram  
Doth bleat, which yet so faintly from him came.  
As though for very joy he seemed to weep,  
The Ape and Muncky such a chattering keep  
With their thin lips, which they so well express.  
As they would say, we hope to be released;  
The silly Ass set open such a throat,  
That all the Ark resounded with the note;  
The watchful Dog doth play, and skip, and bark,  
And leaps upon his Masters in the Ark,  
The Raven croaks, the carrion Crow doth squall,  
The Pie doth chatter, and the 〈◊〉 call,  
The jocund Cock crows 〈◊〉 he claps his wings,  
The Merle doth whistle, and the 〈◊〉 strigs,  
The Nightingale strains her melodious throat,  
Which of the small Birds being heard to roar,  
They soon set to her, each a part doth take,  
As by their music up a Choir to make,  
The Parrot lately sad, than 〈◊〉 an 〈◊〉  
And 〈◊〉 every sound he hears,  
The purblind Owl which heareth all this do,  
T'express her gladness, cries Too whit too who.  
No Beastnor Bird was in the Ark with Noy,  
But in their kind 〈◊〉 some sign of joy;  
When that just man who did himself apply  
Still, to his dear and godly family,  
Thus to them spoke (and with erected hands  
The like obedience from the rest demands)   

The world's foundation is not half so sure  
As is God's promise, nor is heaven so pure  
As is his word, to me most sinful man;  
To take the Ark who when I first began  
Said on the hundred and the fiftiath day.  
I should perceive the Delugeto decay,  
And'tis most certains, as you well may know  
Which this poor Pigeon by this leaf doth show.  
He that so long could make the 〈◊〉 stand  
Above the earth, see how his powerful hand  
Thrusts them before it, and so fast doth drive  
The Big swollen Billows, that they seems to strive.  
Which shall fly fastest on that secret path,  
Whence first they came, to execute his wrath,  
The Sun which melted every Cloud to Raime,  
He makes it now to sup it up again:  
The wind by which he brought it on before  
In their declining 〈◊〉 it or and or,  
The tongs of Angels serve not to express,  
Neither his mercy, nor his mightiness,  
Be joyful then in our great God (saith he)  
For we the Parents of Mankind shall be  
From us poor few, (his pleasure that attend)  
Shall all the Nations of the earth descend;   

When righteous Noy desirous still to hear,  
In what estate th'unwieldy waters were,  
Sends forth the Dove as he had done before,  
But it found dry land and came back no more,  
Whereby this man precisely understood,  
The great decrease of this world-drowning flood:  
Thus as the Ark is floating on the main,  
As when the flood rose, in the fall again,  
With Currents still encountered every where 
  
Forward and backward which it still do bear,  
As the stream straytneth, by the rising Cleeves  
Of the tall Mountains, 'twixt which oft it drives,  
Until at length by God's Almighty hand,  
It on the hillsof * Ararat doth land.  
When those within it felt the Ark to strike,  
On the firm ground, was ever comfort like  
To theirs, which felt it fixed there to stay.  
And found the waters went so fast away;  
That Noah set up the covering of the Ark,  
That those which long had sitten in the dark,  
Might be saluted with the cheerful light,  
(O since the world, was ever such a sightl)  
That creeping things aswell as Bird or Beast,  
Their several comforts sundry ways expressed  
His wife and children than a scend to see  
What place it was so happy that should be  
Forth Ark to rest on; where they saw a Plain,  
A Mountain's top which seemed to contain,  
On which they might discern within their ken,  
The carcases of Birds, of Beasts, and men,  
Choked by the Deluge, when Noah spoke them thus,   

〈◊〉 Almighty's 〈◊〉 showed to us,  
That thorough the 〈◊〉 our way not only wrought,  
But to these Mountains safely hath 〈◊〉 brought,  
Whose dainty tops all earthly 〈◊〉  
And one the Green 〈◊〉 sets us 〈◊〉 down.  
Had our most 〈◊〉 God not been our guide  
The Ark had fallen upon some Mountain side,  
And with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of our freight  
Might well have turned it backward with the weight  
Or by these 〈◊〉 over borne  
Or on some Rock 〈◊〉 might have 〈◊〉 torn.  
But see except these beer, each living thing  
That crept, or went, or kept the 〈◊〉 with wing,  
Lie here before us to manure the Land,  
Such is the power of Gods all working hand.   

In thesixhundred year of that just man  
The second month, the seventeenth day began, 
In May according to the Expofiters.   
That horrid Deluge when Heaven's windows were  
At once all opened, then did first appear  
Th' Allmightys wrath, when for full forty days  
There reigned from Heaven not showers but mighty seas,  
A hundred fifty days that so prevailed,  
Above the Mountains till the great Ark 〈◊〉  
In the seaventh month, upon the seaventeenth day, 
part of September and part of October.   
Like a Ship fall'n into a quiet Bay,  
It on the Hills of Ararat doth light:  
But Noah denied yet to discharge the Fraight,  
For that the Mountains clearly were not seen,  
Till the first day of the tenth month, when Greene  
Smyld on the blue Skies, when the earth began  
To look up cheerly, yet the waters ran  
Still throw the Valleys, till the month again 
In the same month the flood began, it ceased: which made up the year.   
In which before it first began to rain;  
Of which, the seven and twentieth day expyred,  
Quite from the earth the waters were retired:  
When the almighty God had Noah to see  
Open the Ark, at liberty to let  
The Beasts, the Birds, and creeping things, which came  
Like as when first they went into the same,  
Each male comes down, his 〈◊〉 by his side,  
As 'twere the Bridegroom bringing out his Bride,  
Till th'ark was emptied, and that mighty load,  
For a whole year that there had been bestowed,  
(Since first that forty-dayes still-falling rain  
That drowned the world, was then dried upagaine)  
Which with much gladness do salute the ground,  
The lighter sort some caper, and some bound,  
The heavier creatures tumble them; as glad  
That they such ease by their enlargement had,  
The creeping things together fall to play,  
Joyed beyond measure, for this happy day,  
The Birds let from this Cage, do mount the Sky,  
To show, they yet had not forgot to fly,  
And sporting them upon the airy plain,  
Yet to their master Noah they stoop again,  
To leave his presence, and do still forbear,  
Till they from him of their release might hear,  
The Beasts each other woo, the Birds they 〈◊〉  
As they would say to No, they meant to fill  
The roomthy earth, than altogether void,  
And make, what late the deluge had destroyed.  
When Righteous Noye, who ever had regard  
To serve his God, immediately prepared  
To sacrifice, and of the cleanest Beast  
That in the Ark this while had been his guests,  
He seizeth, (yet obedient to his will)  
And of them, he for sacrifice doth kill.  
Which he and his religiously attend,  
And with the smoke their vows and thanks ascend,  
Which pleased th' Almighty, that he promised then,  
Never by flood to drown the world again.  
And that man kind his covenant might know,  
He in the clouds left the celestial Bow.   

When to these living things quoth 〈◊〉 No,  
Now take you all free liberty to 〈◊〉  
And every way do you yourselves disperse,  
Till you have filled 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
With your 〈◊〉 let every 〈◊〉 be yours,  
He that hath saned ye, faithfully assures  
Your propagation and dear wife quoth be,  
And you  
In your proseruer, and on him rely,  
Whose promise is that we shall 〈◊〉  
Till  
From us poor few in th' Ark that lately were.   

To make a new world, thus work every one,  
The Deluge 〈◊〉 and the old is gone.   

To this Poem.  

SEe how ingrate forgetfulness  
Circles us round with dangers, (bless,  
That all the Saints whom God doth highly  
To, us are strangers.  
Now Heaun into our souls inspires  
No true celestial motions:  
Lusts ardent flame hath dimmed the holy flres  
Of our devotions.  
While 'gainst blasphemers 〈◊〉 sight  
Our painful Author striveth,  
And happy spirits which 〈◊〉 in heavenly light  
On earth reviveth.  
Thou Patriarch great; who with mild looks  
His labouring Muse beholdest: (books  
Reach him those leavos where thou in sacred  
All truth unfoldest:  
And guide (like Israel) Poets hands  
From Egypt, from vain Stories,  
Only to sing of the fair promised lands,  
And all their glories.   
JOHN BEAUMONT.   

Ad Michalem Draytonem.  

DVm reluctantem Pharium JEHOVAE  
Drayton, & fractum canis, & rubentes  
Dividis fluctus, equites reductaet  
obruis unda:   

Instruis quanto monumenta nisu?  
Quam sacra nomen tibi crescit aede?  
Pyramis cedit peritura: cedit  
totaque Memphis.   

Cedit, & quicquid posuere reges  
Molibus fisi nimium superbis.  
O sacer vatis laber! a rapaci  
tempore tutus.   
BEALE SAPPERTON.   

To M. Michael Drayton.  

THy noble Muse already hath been spread (climes,  
Through Europe and the Sun-scorched Southern  
That I'll where Saturn's royal Son was bred,  
Hath been enriched with thy immortal rhymes:  
Even to the burnt line have thy poems flown,  
And gained high same in the declining West,  
And o'er that cold Sea shall thy name be blown,  
That Icy mountains rolleth on her breast:  
Her soaring hence so far made me admire,  
Whether at length thy worthy Muse would fly,  
Borne through the tender air with wings of fire,  
Able to lift her to the starry sky:   

This work resolved my doubts, when th'earth's 〈◊〉  
With her fair fruit, in Heaven she'll take her seat.   
THOMAS ANDREW. Ex arduis aeternitas.    

MOSES HIS BIRTH AND MIRACLES.  

THE FIRST BOOK.  
¶ The Argument.  

This Canto our attracted Muse  
The Prophet's glorious birth pursues,  
The various changes of his fate,  
From humbleness to high estate,  
His beauty, more than mortal shape,  
From Egypt how be doth escape,  
By his fair bearing in his flight;  
Obtains the lovely Midianite,  
Where God unto the Hebrew spoke,  
Appearing from the burning brake,  
And back doth him to Egypt send,  
That mighty things doth there intend.   

Gird in bright flames, rapt from celestial fire,  
That our unwearied faculties refine,  
By zeal transported boldly we aspire  
To sing a subject gloriously divine:  
Him that of 〈◊〉 only had the grace,  
(On whom the Spirit did in such power descend)  
To talk with God face, opposite to face,  
Even as a man with his familiar friend.   

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the utmost of thy might,  
That with an armed and auspicious wing,  
Thou be obsequious in his doubtless right  
'Gainst the 〈◊〉 Atheists vituperious sting:  
Where thou that 〈◊〉 industriously mayst flic,  
Which Nature 〈◊〉 but feignedly to go,  
Borne by a power so eminent and high,  
As in his course leaves reason far below,  
To show how Poesy (simply hath her praise)  
That from full jove taken her celestial birth,  
And quick as fire, her glorious self can raise  
Above this base abominable earth:   

O if that Time have happily reserved,  
(Besides that sacred and canonicke writ,  
What once in Slates and Barks of trees was carved)  
Things that our Muse's gravity may fit,  
Unclasp the world's great Register to me,  
That smoky rust hath very near defaced,  
That I in those dim Characters may see,  
From common eyes that hath aside been cast,  
And thou Translator of that faithful Muse  
This ALLS creation that divinely song,  
From Courtly French (no travail 〈◊〉 refuse)  
To make him Master of thy genuine cong,  
Sallust to thee and 〈◊〉 thy friend,  
Comes my high 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and chaste,  
Your hallowed labours humbly to attend  
That wrackful Time shall not have power to waste.   

A gallant Hebrew (in the height of life)  
〈◊〉 a Levis honourably bred,  
Of the same offspring won a 〈◊〉 wise,  
And no less virtuous, goodly 〈◊〉  
So fitly paired that (without all ostent)  
Even of the wise it hardly could be said  
Which of the two was most preheminent,  
Or he more honoured, or she more obeyed,  
In both was found that liveliehood and meetness,  
By which affection any way was moved:  
In him that shape, in her there was that sweetness,  
Might make him liked or her to be beloved:  
As this commixtion, so their married mind  
Their good corrected, or their ill relieved,  
As truly loving as discreetly kind,  
Mutually joyed, as mutually grieved:  
Their nuptial bed by abstinence maintained,  
Yet still gave fuel to Love's sacred fire,  
And when fruition plentifulli'st gained,  
Yet were they chaste in fullness of desire.   

Now grieved Israel many a wofullday.  
That at their vile servility repined,  
Pressed with the burdens of rude boisterous clay,  
By stern Egyptian tyranny asfigned:  
Yet still the more the 〈◊〉 are oppressed  
Like to Frim seed they fructify the more  
That by th'eternal providence fore-blest,  
Goshen gives roomth but scantly to their store.  
And the wise Midwives in their natural need,  
That the fair males immediately should kill,  
Hating sabhord, and heathenish a deed,  
Check his harsh brutenes and rebellious will.  
That small effect perceiving by the same,  
Bids the man-children (greatelie that abound)  
After that day into the world that came,  
Upon their birth should instantly be drowned:  
And now the time came had been long foretold,  
He should be borne unto the Hebrews joy,  
Whose puissant hand such fatal power should hold,  
As in short time all Egypt should destroy.  
The execution which more strongly forced,  
And every where so generally done,  
As in small time unnaturally divorced,  
Many a dear Mother, and as dear a Son.  
Though her chaste bosom that fair Altar were,  
Where loves pure vows he dutifully paid,  
His Arms to her a Sanctuary dear,  
Yet they so much his tyranny obeyed,  
By free consent to separate their bed,  
Better at all no Children yet to have,  
Then their dear love should procreate the dead,  
Untimely issue for a timeless grave.  
When in a vision whilst he slept by night,  
God bids him so not lacobed to leave,  
The man that Egypt did so much affright,  
Her pregnant womb should happily conceive. 
joseph.   
Soon after finding that she was with child,  
The same conceals by all the means she can,  
Left by th'appearance she might be beguiled,  
If in the birth it proved to be a man.  
The time she goes till her account was nigh,  
Her swelling belly no conception shows,  
Nor at the time of her delivery,  
As other women panged in her throws.  
When lo the fair fruit of that prospering womb  
Wounds the kind parents in their prime of joy.  
Whose birth pronounceth his too timeless doom  
Accused by Nature, forming it a boy:  
Yet 'tis so sweet, so amiably fair,  
That their pleased eyes with rapture it behold,  
The glad sad parents full of joy and care  
Feign would reserve their Insant if they could,  
And still they tempt the sundry varying hours,  
Hopes and despairs together strangely mixed,  
Distasting sweets with many cordial sowers,  
Opposed interchangeably betwixt.  
If ought it ailed or hapleslie it cried,  
Unheard of any that she might it keep,  
With one short breath she did entreat and chide,  
And in a moment she did sing and weep.  
Three labouring months them flatterer-like beguiled,  
And danger still redoubling as it lasts,  
Suspecting most the safety of the Child,  
Thus the kind Mother carefully forecasts:  
(For at three months a scrutiny was held,  
And searchers than sent every where about,  
That in that time if any were concealed,  
They should make proof and straight bring them out:)  
To Pharaoh's will she awfully must bow,  
And therefore hastens to abridge these fears,  
And to the flood determines it shall go,  
Yet ere it went she'll drown it with her tears.  
This afternoon Love bids a little stay,  
And yet these pauses do but lengthen sorrow,  
But for one night although she make delay,  
She vows to go unto his death tomorrow.  
The morning comes, it is too early yet,  
The day so fast not hastening on his date,  
The gloomy Evening murder best doth fit,  
The Evening come, and then it is too late.  
Her pretty Infant lying on her lap  
With his sweet eyes her threatening rage beguiles,  
For yet he plays, and dallies with his pap,  
To mock her sorrows with his amorous smiles,  
And laughed, and chucked: and spread the pretty hands,  
When her full heart was at the point to break,  
(This little Creature yet not understands  
The woeful language mother's tears did speak.)  
Wherewith surprised, and with a parents love,  
From his fair eyes she doth fresh couragetake,  
And Nature's laws allowing, doth reprove  
The frail Edicts that mortal Princes make.  
It shall not die, she'll keep her child unknown,  
And come the worst in spite of Pharaoh's rage,  
As it is hers, she will dispose her own,  
And if't must, it'st die at riper age.  
And thus revolving of her frailties care,  
A thousand strange 〈◊〉 throng her troubled mind,  
Sounding the dangers 〈◊〉 what they are,  
Betwixt the laws of cruelty and kind.  
But it must die, and better yet to part,  
Since preordained to this 〈◊〉 fate,  
His want will sit the nearer to the heart  
In riper and more flourishing estate,  
The perfect husband whose 〈◊〉 soul,  
took true proportion of each 〈◊〉 throw,  
Yet had such power his passion to control,  
As not the same immedintely to show,  
With carriage full of comeliness and grace,  
As grief not felt nor sorrow seemed to lack,  
Courage and sear so tempered in his face,  
Thus his beloved jacobed bespoke.  
Dear heart be patient, stay these timeless tears,  
Death of thy Son shall never quite 〈◊〉 thee,  
My soul with thine, that equal burden bears,  
As what he takes, my Love again shall give thee;  
For Israel's sin if Israel's seed must suffer,  
And we of mere necessity must leave him,  
Please yet to grace me with this gentle offer,  
Give him to me by whom thou didst conceive him.  
So though thou with so dear a 〈◊〉 part,  
This yet remaineth lastly to 〈◊〉 thee,  
Thou hast imposed this hindrance on my heart,  
Another's loss shall need the less to grieve thee,  
Nor are we 〈◊〉 abject by our name,  
Though thus in Egypt hatefully despised,  
That we that blessing fruitlefly should claim  
Once in that holy 〈◊〉 comprised,  
It is not fit Mortality should know  
What his eternal providence 〈◊〉  
That unto Abraham 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉  
In happy Sara and her 〈◊〉 seed.  
Nor shall the wrong to godly 〈◊〉 one  
In his remembranee ever he 〈◊〉  
By Jacob's sighs for his lost little son  
A Captived slave to the Egyptians sold:  
Reason sets limmets to the longest grief,  
Sorrow scarce passed when comfort is returning,  
He sends affliction that can lend relief,  
Best that is pleased with measure in our mourning.   

Lost in herself, her spirits are so distracted,  
All hopes dissolved might 〈◊〉 her further,  
Her mind seems now of misery compacted,  
That must consent unto so dear a murder.  
Of slime and twigs she makes a simple shred  
(The poor last duty to her child she owes  
This pretty martyr, this yet living dead)  
Wherein she doth his little corpse enclose:  
And means to bear it presently away,  
And in some water secretly bestow it,  
But yet a while bethinks herself to stay,  
Some little kindness she doth further owe it:  
Nor will she in this cruelty persever,  
That by her means his timeless blood be spilt,  
If of her own she doth herself deliver,  
Let others hands be nocent of the guilt:  
Yet if she keep it from the ruthless flood  
That is by Pharo's tyranny 〈◊〉 it,  
What boots that wretched miserable good,  
If so disposed where none do come to find it,  
For better yet the Homicide should kill it,  
Or by some beast in pieces to be rend,  
Than lingering famine cruelly should spill it,  
That it endure a double languishment:  
And neighbouring near to the Egyptian Court,  
She knows a place that near the river side  
Was oft frequented by the worthier sort,  
For now the spring was newly in her pride.  
Thither she hastes but with a 〈◊〉 speed  
The veerest way she possibly could get,  
And by the clear brim 'mongst the flags and reed,  
Her little Coffin carefully she set:  
Her little Girl (the Mother following near)  
As of her Brother that her leave would take,  
Which the sad woman unexpecting there,  
Yet it to help her kindly thus bespoke:  
(Quoth she) sweet Miriam secretly attend,  
And for his death see who approacheth hither,  
That once for all assured of his end,  
His days and mine be consummate together,  
It is some comfort to a wretch to die  
(If there be comfort in the way of death)  
To have some friend or kind alliance by,  
To be officious at the parting breath:  
Thus she departs, oft stays, oft turneth back,  
Looking about lest any one espied her,  
Feign would she leave, that leaving she doth lack,  
That in this sort so strangely doth divide her.  
Unto what Dame (participating kind)  
My verse her sad perplexity shall show,  
That in a softened and relenting mind  
Finds not a true touch of that Mother's woe.  
Yet all this while full quietly it slept,  
(Poor little Brat incapable of care)  
Which by that powerful providence is kept,  
Who doth this child for better days prepare.  
See here an abject utterly forlorn,  
Left to destruction as a violent prey,  
Whom man might judge accursed to be borne,  
To dark oblivion moulded up in clay,  
That man of might in after times should be  
(The bounds of 〈◊〉 mortality that broke)  
Which that Almighty gloriously should see,  
When he in thunder on mount Sinai spoke.   

Now Pharaoh's Daughter Termuth young & fair,  
With such choice Maidens as she favoured most,  
Needs would abroad to take the gentle air,  
Whilst the rich year his braveries seemed to boast:  
Softly she walks down to the secret flood,  
Through the calm shades most peaceable & quiet,  
In the cool streams to check the pampered blood,  
Stirred with strong youth and their delicious diet;  
Such as the Princess, such the day addressed,  
As though provided equally to pair her,  
Either in other fortunately blessed  
She by the day, the day by her made falrer,  
Both in the height and fullness of their pleasure,  
As to them both some future good divining,  
Holding a steady and accomplished measure,  
This in her perfect clearness, that in shining.  
The very air to emulate her meekness,  
strove to be bright and peaceable as she,  
That it grew jealous of that sudden sleekenesse,  
Fearing it ofter otherwise might be:  
And if the fleet wind by some rigorous gale  
Seerned to be moved, and patiently to chide her,  
It was as angry with her lawnie veil,  
That from his sight it enviously should hide her:  
And now approaching to the flow'rie mead  
Where the rich Summer curiously had dight her,  
Which seemed in all her 〈◊〉 arrayed,  
With Nature's cost and pleasures to delight her:  
See this most blessed, this unusual hap,  
She the small basket sooner should espy,  
That the Child waked, and missing of his pap,  
As for her succour in stantly did cry;  
Forth of the flags she caused it to be taken,  
Calling her Maids this Orphanet to see,  
Much did she joy an Innocent forsaken  
By her from peril privileged might be:  
This most sweet Princess pitiful and mild,  
Soon on her knee unswathes it as her own,  
Found for a man, so beautiful a Child,  
Might for an Hebrew easily be known:  
Noting the caro in dressing it bestowed,  
Each thing that fitted gentleness to wear,  
Judged the sad parents this lost Infant owed,  
Were as invulgar as their fruit was fair,  
(Saith she) my mind not any way suggests  
An unchaste womb these lineaments hath bred,  
For thy fair brow apparently contests  
The currant stamp of a clean nuptial bed:  
She named it Moses, which in time might tell  
(For names do many mysteries expound)  
When it was young the chance that it befell,  
How by the water strangely it was found,  
Calling Melch women that Egyptians were,  
Once to the teat his lips he would not lay,  
As though offended with their sullied lere,  
Seeming as still to turn his head away.   

The little Girl that near at hand did lurk,  
(Thinking this while she tarried but too long)  
Finding these things so happily to work,  
Kindly being crafty, wise as she was young,  
Madam (saith she) will't please you I provide  
A Nurse to breed the Infant you did find,  
There is an Hebrew dwelling here beside,  
I know can do it fitly to your mind:  
For a right Hebrew if the Infant be,  
(As well produce you instances I can,  
And by this Child as partly you may see,)  
It will not suck ofan Egyptian.  
The courteous Princess offered now so fair,  
That which before she earnestly desired,  
That of her foundling had a special care,  
The Girl to fetch her instantly required:  
Away the Girl goes, doth her Mother tell  
What favour God had to her brother shown,  
And what else in this accident befell,  
That she might now be Nurse unto her own.  
Little it boots to bid the Wench to ply her,  
Nor the kind Mother hearken to her son,  
Nor to provoke her to the place to high her,  
Which seemed not now on earthly feet to run:  
Slow to herself yet hasting as she flew,  
(So fast affection forward did her bear)  
As though 〈◊〉 with the breath she drew,  
Borne by the force of nature and of fear,  
Little the time, and little is the way,  
And for her business either's speed doth crave,  
Yet in her haste 〈◊〉 her what to say,  
And how herself in presence to behave,  
Slack she'll not seem lest to another's trust  
Her hopeful charge were happily directed,  
Nor yet too forward show herself she must,  
Lest her sweet fraud thereby might be suspected,  
come she doth bow her humbly to the ground,  
And every joint incessantly doth tremble,  
Gladness and fear each other so confound,  
So hard a thing for Mothers to dissemble.  
Saith this sweet Termuth, well I like thy beauty,  
Nurse me this Child (if it thy state behoove)  
Although a Prince i'll not enforce thy duty,  
But pay thy labour, and reward thy love:  
Though even as Gods is Pharaohs high command,  
And as strong Nature so precise and strict,  
There rests that power yet in a Princess hand,  
To free one Hebrew from this strong edict:  
That shall in rich abiliments be dight,  
Decked in the gems that 〈◊〉 shine,  
Wearing our own robe gracious in our sight,  
Free in our Court, and nourished for mine:  
Love him dear Hebrew as he were thine own,  
Good Nurse be careful of my little Boy,  
In this to us thy kindness may be shown,  
Some Mother's grief, is now a May dens joy.   

This while all mute, the poor astonished Mother,  
With admiration as transpeareed stood,  
One 〈◊〉 joy doth so confound another,  
Passion so powerful in her ravished blood.  
Whispering some soft words which delivered were,  
As rather seemed her silence to impart,  
And being enforced from bashfulness and fear,  
Came as true tokens of a graceful heart.  
Thus she departs her husband to content,  
With this dear present back to him she brought,  
Making the time short, telling each event,  
In all shapes joy presented to her thought.  
Yet still his manly modesty was such  
(That his affections strongly so controlled,)  
As if joy seemed his manly heart to touch,  
It was her joy and gladness to behold:  
When all rejoiced unmoved thereat the while,  
In his grave face such constancy appears,  
As now scarce showing comfort in his smiles,  
Nor then revealing sorrow in his tears:  
Yet oft beheld it with that steadfast eye,  
Which though itsdained the pleasdnesse to confess,  
More in his looks in fullness there did lie,  
Than all their words could any way express.   

In time the Princess playing with the Child, 
〈◊〉 Pet. Comestor.   
In whom she seemed her chief delight to take,  
With whom she oft the weary time beguiled,  
That as her own did of this Hebrew make:  
It so fell out as 〈◊〉 was in place,  
Seeing his daughter in the Child to joy,  
To please the Princess, and to do it grace,  
Himself vouchsafes to entertain the Boy:  
Whose shape and beauty when he did he hold  
With much content his Princely eye that fed,  
Giving to please it, any thing it would,  
Set his rich Crown upon the Infant's head,  
Which this weak Child regarding not at all  
(As such a Baby carelessly is meet)  
Unto the ground the Diadem let fall  
Spurning it from him with neglectsull foot.  
Which as the Priests beheld this ominous thing  
(That else had past unnoted as a toy.)  
As from their skill report unto the King,  
This was the man that Egypt should destroy.  
Told by the Magis that were learned and wise,  
Which might full well the jealous King inflame,  
Said by th' Egyptian ancient prophecies  
That might give credit easilier to the same.  
She as discrecte as she was chaste and fair,  
With Princely gesture and with countenance mild  
By things that hurtful and most dangerous were  
Shows to the King the weakness of the Child:  
Hot burning coals doth to his mouth present,  
Which he to handle simply doth not stick,  
This little fool, this reckless Innocent  
The burning gleed with his soft tongue doth lick:  
Which though in Pharaoh her desire it wrought,  
His babish imbecility to see,  
To the Child's speech impediment it brought,  
From which he after never could be free.   

The Child grew up, when in his manly faco.  
Beauty was seen in an unusual cheer,  
Such mixtures sweet of comeliness and grace  
Likely apparelled in complexion clear.  
The part of earth contends with that of heaven,  
Both in their proper purity excelling,  
To whether more pre-eminence was given,  
Which should excel the dweller or the dwelling.  
men's usual stature he did far 〈◊〉  
And every part proportioned so well,  
The more the eye upon his shape did feed,  
The more it longed upon the same to dwell:  
Each joint such perfect Harmony did 〈◊〉  
That curious judgement taking any limb  
Searching might miss to match it any where,  
Nature so failed in parallelling him:  
His hair bright yellow, on an arched brow  
Sat all the beauty's kind could ever frame,  
And did them there so orderly bestow,  
As such a seat of majesty became,  
As time made perfect each exterior part,  
So still his honour with his years increased,  
That he sat Lord in many a tender heart,  
With such high savours his fair youth was blessed.   

So fell it out that AEthiop 〈◊〉 began,  
Invading Egypt with their armed powers,  
And taking spoils, the Country overran  
To where as Memphis vaunts her climbing Towers  
Wherefore they with their Oracles confer  
About th'event, which do this answer make,  
That if they would transport this civil war,  
They to their Captain must an Hebrew take.  
And for fair Moses happily was grown  
Of so great towardness and especial hope,  
Him they do choose as absoluiest known  
To lead their power against the Aethiop.  
Which they of Termuth hardly can obtain,  
Though on their Altars by their Gods they vow  
Him to deliver safe to her again,  
(Once the war ended) safe as he was now.  
Who for the way the Army was to pass,  
That by th' Egyptians only was intended,  
Most part by water, more prolixious was  
Than present peril any whit commended:  
To intercept the AEthiopians wrought  
A way far nearer who their Legions led,  
Which till that time impassable was thought,  
Such store of Serpents in that place was bred:  
Devised by Birds this danger to eschew,  
Whereof in Egypt 〈◊〉 exceeding store,  
The Stork, and Ibis, which he wisely knew,  
All kinds of Serpents naturally abhor.  
Which he in Baskets of Egyptian reed,  
Borne with his caridge easily doth convey,  
And wherein campeth sets them forth to feed,  
Which drive the Serpents presently away.  
Thus them preventing by this subtle course,  
That all their succour suddenly bereft,  
When AEthiop flies before th' Egyptian force.  
Shut up in Saba their last refuge left.  
Which whilst with straight siege they beleaguered long,  
The King's fair Daughter haps him to behold,  
And became fettered with affection strong,  
Which in short time could hardly be controlled.  
Tarbis that kindled this rebellious rage, 
Comester.   
That they to Egypt tributory were,  
When the old King decrepit now with age,  
She in his stead the loveraigntic did bear.  
Up to his Tower where she the Camp might see,  
To look her new Love every day she went,  
And when he happened from the field to be,  
She thought her blessed beholding but his Tent,  
And oftentimes doth modestly inveigh  
'Gainst him the City walled first about,  
That the strong site should churlishly denay  
Him to come in, or her for passing out,  
Had the gates been but softened as her breast  
(That to behold her loved enemy stands)  
He had ere this of Saba been possessed,  
And therein planted the Egyptian bands:  
Ost from a place as secretly she might  
(That from her Palace looked unto his Tent)  
When he came forth appearing in his sight,  
Showing by signs the love to him she meant.  
For in what arms it pleased him to be dight,  
After the Hebrew or th' Egyptian guise:  
He was the bravest, the most goodly wight  
That ever graced AEthiop with his eyes.  
And finding means to parley from a place,  
By night, her passion doth to him discover,  
To yield the City if he would 〈◊〉.  
Her a true Princess, as a faithful Lover.  
The feature of so delicate a Dame,  
Motives sufficient to his youth had been,  
But to be Lord of Kingdoms by the same,  
And of so great and absolute a Queen,  
Soon gently stole him from himself away.  
That doth to him such rarities partake,  
Offering so rich, so excellent a prey,  
Loving the treason for the Traitor's sake.   

But whilst he lived in this glorious vain,  
Israel his conscience oftentimes doth move,  
That all this while in Egypt did remain  
Virtue and grace o'recomming youth and love.  
And though God knows unwilling to depart,  
From so high Empire wherein now he stood,  
And her that sat so near unto his heart,  
Such power hath Israel in his happy blood,  
By skill to quit him sorcibly he wrought,  
As he was learned and traded in the stars,  
Both by the Hebrews, and th' Egyptian: taught,  
That were the first, the best Astronomers,  
Two sundry figures makes, whereof the one  
Cause them that wear it all things passed forget, 
Comester ex Vet. Script.   
As th'other of all accidents foregone  
The memory as eagerly doth whet.  
Which he ensculpted in two likely stones,  
For rareness of invaluable price,  
And cunningly contrived them for the nonce  
In likely rings of excellent device:  
That of oblivion giving to his Queen,  
Which soon made show the violent effect  
Forgot him strait as he had never been,  
And did her former kindnesses neglect.  
The other (that doth memory 〈◊〉)  
Him with the love of Israel doth inflame,  
Departing thence not how the Princess wist.  
In peace he leaves her as in war he came.  
But all the pleasures of th' Egyptian Court,  
Had not such power upon his springing years,  
As had the sad and tragical report  
Of the rude burdens captived Israel bears,  
Nor what regards he to be graced of Kings?  
Or flattered greatness idly to await?  
Or what respects he the negotiating  
Matters comporting Empery and State?  
The bondage and servility that lay  
On buried Israel (sunk in ordurous slime)  
His grieved spirit down heavily doth way,  
That to lean care oft leaned the prosperous time  
A wretched Hebrew happened to behold  
Bruised with sad burdens without all remorse  
By an Egyptian barbarously controlled,  
Spurning his pined and miserable corpse  
Which he beholding vexed as he stood,  
His fair veins swelling with impatient fire,  
Pity and rage so wrestled in his blood  
To get freepassage to conceived ire,  
Rescuing the man th' Egyptian doth resist:  
(Which from his vile hands forcibly he took)  
And by a strong blow with his valiant fist,  
His hateful breath out of his nostrils struck,  
Which through his courage boldly 〈◊〉 aver,  
In the proud power of his 〈◊〉 hand.  
Yet from high honour deigneth to inter,  
The 〈◊〉 carcase in the smouldering sand.  
Which then supposed in secret to be wrought,  
Yet still hath Envy such 〈◊〉 lealous eye,  
As soorth the same incontinent it sought,  
And to the King delivered by and by,  
Which soon gave vent to Pharo's covered wrath,  
Which till this instant reason did confine,  
Opening a straight way, and 〈◊〉 path  
Unto that great and terrible design:  
Most for his safety foreing his 〈◊〉  
When now affliction every day did breed,  
And when revengeful tyranny did 〈◊〉  
The greatest horror to the Hebrew seed:  
To Midian now his Pilgrimage he took,  
Midian earth's only Paradise far pleasures,  
Where many a soft Rill, many a sliding Brook,  
Through the sweet valley, trip in wanton measures,  
Whereas the curled Groves and the flowery fields,  
To his free soul so peaceable and quiet  
More true delight and choice contentment yields,  
Than Egypt's braveries and luxurious die:  
And wand'ring 〈◊〉 he happened on a Well,  
Which he by paths frequented might espy,  
Bordred with trees where pleasure seemed to dwell,  
Where to repose him, easily down doth lie:  
Where the soft winds did mutually embrace,  
In the cool Arbours Nature there had made,  
Fanning their sweet breath gently in his face  
Through the calm cincture of the amorous shade.  
Till now it nighed the noonestead of the day,  
When scorching heat the gadding Herds do grieve.  
When Shepherds now and Herdsmen every way,  
Their thirsting cattle to the Fountain drive:  
Amongst the rest seven Shepherdesses went  
Along the way for watering of their Sheep,  
Whose eyes him seemed such reflection sent,  
As made the Flocks even white that they did keep:  
Girls that so goodly and delightful were,  
The fields were fresh and fragrant in their view,  
Winter was as the Spring time of the year,  
The grass so proud that in their footsteps grew:  
Daughters they were unto a holy man,  
(And worthy too of such a Sire to be)  
jethro the Priest of fertile Midian,  
Few found so just, so righteous men as he.  
But see the rude Swain, the vntutoured slave,  
Without respect or reverence to their kind.  
Away their fair flocks from the water drove,  
Such is the nature of the barbarous Hind.  
The Maids (pierce ving where a stranger sat)  
Of whom those Clowns so basely did esteem,  
Were in his presence discontent thereat,  
Whom he perhaps improvident might deem.  
Which he perceaving kindly doth entreat,  
Reproves the Rustics for that offered wrong,  
Auerring it an injury too great,  
To such (ofright) all kindness did belong.  
But finding well his Oratory fail,  
His fists about him frankly he 〈◊〉  
That where persuasion could not late prevail,  
He yet compelleth quickly by his blows.  
Entreats the damsels their abode to make.  
(With Courtly semblance and a manly grace,)  
At their fair pleasures quietly to take,  
What might be had by freedom of the place.  
Whose beauty, shape, and courage they admire,  
Exceeding these, the honour of his mind,  
For what in mortal could their hearts desire,  
That in this man they did not richly find?  
Returning sooner than their usual hour,  
All that had happened to their Fathers told,  
That such a man relieved them by his power,  
As one all civil courtesy that could:  
Who full of bounty hospitably meek  
Of his behaviour greatly pleased to hear,  
Forthwith commands his servants him to seek,  
To honour him by whom his honoured were:  
Gently receives him to his goodly seat,  
Feasts him his friends and families among,  
And him with all those offices entreat,  
That to his place and virtues might belong:  
Whilst in the beauty of those goodly Dames,  
Wherein wise Nature her own skill admires,  
He feeds those secret and impiercing flames,  
Nursed in fresh youth, and gotten in desires:  
Won with this man this princely Priest to dwell,  
For greater hire than bounty could devose,  
For her whose praise makes praise itself excel,  
Fairer than sairenesse, and as wisdom wise.  
In her, her Sisters severally were seen,  
Of every one she was the rarest part,  
Who in her presence any time had been,  
Her Angel eye transpierced not his heart.  
For Zipora a Shepherd's life he leads,  
And in her sight deceives the subtle hours,  
And for her sake oft robsthe flowery meads,  
With those sweet spoils t'enrich her rural bowers.  
Up to mount Horeb with his flock he took,  
The flock wise lethro willed him to keep,  
Which well he guarded with his Shepherd's crook,  
Goodly the Shepherd, goodly were the Sheep:  
To feed and fold full warily he knew,  
From Fox and Wolf his wand'ring flocks to free,  
The goodli'st flowers that in the meadows grew  
Were not more fresh and beautiful than hec.  
Gently his fair flocks lessowd he along,  
Through the Frim pastures freely at his leisure,  
Now on the hills, the valleys then among,  
Which seem themfelues to offer to his pleasure.  
Whilst feathered Silvans from each blooming spray,  
With murmuring waters wistly as they creep,  
Make him such music (to abridge the way,)  
As fits a Shepherd company to keep.  
When lo that great and fearful God of might  
To that fair Hebrew strangely doth appear,  
In a bush burning visible and bright  
Yet unconsuming as no fire there were:  
With hair erected and 〈◊〉 eyes,  
Whilst he with great astonishment admires,  
Eoe that eternal Rector of the skies,  
Thus breathes to 〈◊〉 from those quickening 〈◊〉  
Shake off thy Sandals (saith the thundering God)  
With humbled feet my wondrous power to see.  
For that the soil where thou hast boldly trod,  
Is most select and hallowed unto me:  
The righteous Abraham for his God me knew,  
Isaac and jacob trusted in mine Name,  
And did believe my Covenant was true,  
Which to their seed shall propagate the same:  
My folk that long in Egypt 〈◊〉 heene bard,  
Whose cries have entered heavens eternal gate,  
Our z alous mercy openly hath heard,  
Kneeling in tears at our eternal State.  
And am come down, them in the Land to see,  
Where streams of milk through batiull Valleys flow,  
And luscious honey dropping from the tree,  
Load the full flowers that in the shadows grow:  
By thee my power am purposed to try,  
That from rough bondage shalt the Hebrews bring,  
Bearing that great and fearful Embassy  
To that Monarchal and Imperious King.  
And on this Mountain (standing in thy sight,)  
When thou returnest from that conquered Land,  
Thou hallowed Altars unto me shalt light,  
This for a token certainly shall stand.   

O who am I! this wondering man replies,  
A wretched mortal that I should be sent,  
And stand so clear in thine eternal eyes,  
To do a work of such astonishment:  
And trembling now with a transfixed heart,  
Humbling himself before the Lord (quoth he)  
Who shall I tell the Hebrews that thou art,  
That giv'st this large commission unto me?  
Say (quoth the Spirit from that impetuous flame)  
Unto the Hebrews ask thee 〈◊〉 this,  
That 'twas, I A M: which only is my Name,  
God of their Fathers, so my 〈◊〉 is:  
Divert thy course to 〈◊〉 then 〈◊〉  
And to divulge it constantly be bold,  
And their glad ears attractively retain,  
With what at Sinai Abraham's God hath told:  
And tell great Pharo, that the Hebrews God  
Commands from Egypt that he set you free,  
Three journeys thence in Deserts far abroad,  
To offer hallowed sacrifice to me.  
But he refusing to dismiss you so,  
On that proud King I'll execute such force  
As never yet came from the Sling, the Bow,  
The keen edged Curt'lax, or the puissant Horse;  
But if th'afflicted miserable sort  
To idle incredulity inclined,  
Shall not (quoth Moses) credit my report,  
That thou to me hast so great power assigned.  
Cast down (saith God) thy Ward unto the ground,  
Which he obeying fearfully, behold  
The same a Serpent suddenly was found,  
Itself contorting into many a sold.  
With such amazement Moses doth surprise  
With cold convulsions shrinking every vain,  
That his affrighted and uplifted eyes  
Even shot with horror, sink into his brain.  
But being encouraged by the Lord to take  
The ugly tail into his trembling hand,  
As from a dream he suddenly doth wake,  
When at the instant it became a wand.  
By the same hand into his bosom shut,  
Whose eyes his withered leprosy abhorred,  
When forth he drew it secondly being put,  
Unto the former puritle restored.  
These signs he gives this sad admiring man,  
Which he the weak incredulous should show,  
When this sraile mortal freshly now began  
To forge new causes, why unfit to go?  
Egypt accusing to have done him wrong,  
Scantling that bounty Nature had bestowed,  
Which had welnere deprived him of his tongue,  
Which to this office chiefesly had been owed;  
When he whose wisdom Nature must obey,  
In whose resistance reason weakly fails,  
To whom all humane instances give way,  
'Gainst whom not subtle Argument 〈◊〉  
Thus doth reprove this idle vain excuse,  
Who made the mouth? who 〈◊〉 or who the care?  
Or who deprives those organs of their use?  
That thou thy imbecility shouldst fear?  
Thy brother Aaron cometh unto thee.  
Which as thy Speaker purposely I bring,  
To whom thyself even as a God shalt be,  
And he interpret to th' Egyptian King.  
That when he at thy miracles shall wonder,  
And wan with fear shall tremble at thy rod,  
To feel his power that sways the dreadful thunder,  
That is a jealous and a fearful God.  
Then shall mine own self purchase me renown,  
And win me honour by my glorious deed  
On all the 〈◊〉 on th' Egyptian throne,  
That this proud mortal ever shall succeed.    

THE SECOND BOOK.  
¶ The Argument.  

Moses doth his message bring,  
Acts miracles before the King,  
With him the Magis do contend,  
Which he doth conquer in the end,  
When by the extensure of the wand,  
He brings ten plagnes upon the Land,  
And in despite of Pharo's pride,  
From Goshen 〈◊〉 the Hebrews guide.   

WHen now from Midian Moses forward set,  
With whom his wife & fair retinue went,  
Where on his way him happily hath met  
His brother Aron to the Lords intent,  
And to the Hebrews in th'impatient hand,  
Of mighty Egypt all his power implies,  
And as the Lord expressly did command,  
Acteth his wonders in their pleased eyes.  
Those miracles mortality beholds  
With an astonished and distracted look,  
The mind that so amazedly enfolds,  
That every sense the faculty forsook.  
The little Infant with abundant joy,  
To man's estate immediately is sprung,  
And though the old man could not back turn boy,  
Casts half his years so much becoming young,  
Whilst mirth in fullness measureth every eye,  
Each breast is heaped up with excess of pleasure,  
Rearing their spread hands to the glorious Sky,  
Gladly embracing the Almighty's leisure.  
These Hebrews entering the Egyptian 〈◊〉  
Their great Commission 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Which there repulsed as a slight report,  
Doth soon denounce defiance to the same.  
Where now these men their miracles commend,  
By which their power precisely might be tried,  
And Pharo for his Sorcerers doth send,  
By them the Hebrews only to deride.  
Where Heaven must now apparently transcend  
Th'infernal powers Emperiously to thwart,  
And the bright perfect 〈◊〉 contend  
With abstruse Magic and fallacious 〈◊〉  
Never was so miraculous a strife  
Where admiration ever so abounded,  
Where wonders were so prodigally rife,  
That to behold it Nature stood confounded.  
Casting his rod a Serpent that became,  
Which he supposed with marvel them might strike,  
When every Priest assaying in the same,  
By his black skill did instantly the like:  
Which Pharo's breast with arrogance doth fill,  
Above the high Gods to exalt his power,  
When by his might (t'amate their weaker skill)  
The Hebrews rod doth all the rods devour:  
Which deed of wonder slightly he rejects,  
His froward Spirit 〈◊〉 elate,  
Which after caused those violent effects  
That sat on Egypt with the power of Fate.  
When he whose wisdom 〈◊〉 the world did far,  
From whom not counsel can her secrets hide,  
Forewarneth Moses early to prepare  
T'accost the proud King by the river's side,   

What heavenly rapture doth enrich my brain,  
And through my blood extravagantly flows,  
That doth transport 〈◊〉 that endless main,  
Whereas th' Almighty his high glories shows?  
That holy heat into my Spirit infuse,  
Wherewith thou 〈◊〉 thy 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉  
And lend that power to our 〈◊〉 Muse,  
As dwelled in sounds of that sweet Hebruack Lyre.  
A task unusual I must now assay,  
Striving through peril to support this mass,  
No former foot did ever 〈◊〉 away,  
Where I propose unto myself to pass.   

When Moses meeting the Egyptian King,  
Urgeth a fresh the Israelites depart,  
And him by Aaron stoutly menacing,  
To try the temper of his stubborn heart.  
When lo the Torrent the fleet hurrying flood 
The 1. Plague.   
So clear and perfect Crystalline at hand,  
As a black lake or settled marish stood  
At th'extensure of the Hebrews wand.  
Where Segs, rank Bulrush, and the sharpened Reed  
That with the fluxure of the wave is said,  
Might be discerned unnaturally to bleed,  
Dying their fresh green to a sullied red:  
Like issuing ulcers every little Spring,  
That being ripened void the filthy core,  
Their loathsome slime and matter vomiting  
Into the Rivers they enriched before:  
What in her banks hath battening Nilus bred,  
Serpent, or Fish, or strange deformed thing  
That on her bosom she not beareth dead,  
Where they were borne them lastly burying?  
That Bird and Beast incontinenly fly  
From the detested and contagious stink,  
And rather choose by cruel thirst to dye,  
Then once to taste of this contaminate drink,  
And useful Cisterns delicately filled,  
With which rich Egypt wondrously abounds,  
Looking as Bowls receiving what was spilt  
From mortal and immedicable wounds.  
That the faint earth even poisoned now remains,  
In her own self so grievously dejected,  
Horrid pollution travailing her veins,  
desperate of cure so dangerously infected  
The spongy soil, that digging deep and long  
To soak clear liquor from her plenteous pores,  
This bloody issue breaketh out among,  
As sickly menstrues or inveterate sores:  
Seven days continuing in this flux of blood,  
Sadly sits Egypt a full week of woe,  
Shame taints the brow of every stew and flood,  
Blushing, the world her filthiness to show.  
Yet sdaines proud Pharo Israel thus to free,  
Nor this dire plague his hardened heart can tame,  
Which he supposed but fallaces to be,  
When his Magicians likewise did the same.   

When he again that glorious Rod extends  
'Gainst him that Heaven denieth thus to dare.  
On Egypt soon a second plague that sends,  
Which he till now seemed partially to spare  
The soil, that late the owner did enrich  
Him his fair Herds and goodly flocks to feed,  
Lies now a leystall a or common ditch,  
Where in their Todder loathly Paddocks breed.  
Where as the upland montanous and high  
To them that sadly do behold it shows,  
As though in labour with this filthy fry,  
Stirring with pain in the parturious throws:  
People from windows looking to the ground,  
At this stupendious spectacle amazed,  
See but their sorrow every where abound,  
That most abhorring whereon most they gazed.  
Their Troughes and Ovens Toadstooles now become,  
That Huswives wont so carefully to keep,  
These loathsome creatures taking up the room,  
And croaking, there continually do creep.  
And as great Pharo on his Throne is set,  
From thence affrighted with this odious thing,  
Which crawling up into the same doth get,  
And him deposing fitteth as a King.  
The wearied man his spirits that to refresti  
Gets to his bed to free him from his fear,  
Scarce laid but feels them at his naked 〈◊〉  
So small the succcur that remaineth there.  
No Court so close to which the speckled Toad  
By some small cranny creeps not by and by,  
No Tower so strong nor natural abode,  
To which for safety any one might fly:  
Egypt now hates the world her so should call,  
Of her own self so grievously ashamed,  
And so contemned in the eyes of all,  
As but in scorn she scarcely once is named.  
When this profane King with a wounded heart  
(His Magis though these miracles could do)  
Sees in his soul one greater than their Art,  
Above all power, that put a hand thereto:  
But as these plagues and sad afflictions ceased  
At the just prayer of this mild godlike man,  
So Pharaoh's pride and stubborness increased,  
And his lewd course this headstrong Mortal ran.  
Which might have surelier settled in his mind,  
(At his request which Mosts quickly slew,  
Leaving a stench so pestilent behind)  
As might preserve old sorrows freshly new.  
But stay my Muse in height of all this speed,  
Somewhat plucks back to quench this sacred heat,  
And many perils doth to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
In that whereof we seriously entreat.  
Lest too concise injuriously we wrong  
Things that such state and fearfulness impart,  
Or led by zeal irregularly long,  
Infringe the curious liberties of Art,  
We that calumnious Critic may eschem,  
That blasteth all things with his poisoned breath,  
Detracting what laboriously we do,  
Only with that which he but idly saith.  
O be our guide whose lories now we preach,  
That above Books must steer us in our Fate,  
For never Ethnic to this day did teach,  
(In this) whose method we might imitate.  
When now these men of miracle proceed,  
And by extending of that wondrous wand,  
As that resistless providence decreed,  
Thereby brings Lice on the distempered Land: 
The 3 Plague.   
All struck with Lice so numberless they lie,  
The dust grown quick in every place doth creep,  
The sands their want do secondly supply,  
As they at length would suffocate the Deep:  
That th' atomies that in the beams appear,  
As they the Sun through crannies shining see,  
The form of those detested things do bear,  
So miserable the Egyptians be:  
Who raked the brands the passed Evening burned,  
(As is the use the Morning's fire to keep)  
To these soul vermin finds the ashes turned,  
Covering the Hearth. so thick thereon they creep:  
Now Prince and peasant equally are dressed,  
The costliest silks and coursest rags alike,  
The worst goes now companion with the best,  
The hand of God so generally doth strike.  
The King's Pavilion and the Captives pad  
Are now in choice indifferent unto either,  
Great, small, fair, soul, rich, poor, the good and bad  
Do suffer in this pestilence together,  
In vain to cleanse, in vain to purge, and pick,  
When every Moth that with the breath doth rise,  
Forthwith appeareth venomously quick,  
Although so small scarce taken by the eyes.  
By which hiswisdome strongly doth prevail,  
When this selfe-wise, this overweening man,  
Even in the least, the slightest thing doth fail,  
The very beggar absolutely can,  
When now these Wizards with transfixed hearts  
To make his glory by the same the more,  
Confess a Godhead 〈◊〉 through their Arts.  
Which by their Magic's they denied before.  
Yet this proud Pharo as oppugning fate,  
Still doth resist that Majesty so high,  
And to himself doth yet appropriate  
A supreme power his Godhead to deny.  
When from his wilful stubborness doth grow  
That great amazement to all ears and eyes,  
When now the Lord by Aaron's Rod will show  
His mighty power even in the wretched'st Flies,  
Varying his vengeance in as many kinds,  
As Pharo doth his obstinacies vary,  
Suiting his plagues so fitly with their minds,  
As though their sin his punishments did carry.  
In Summer time as in an Evening fair,  
The Gnats are heard in a tumultuous sound  
On tops of hills, so troubled is the air  
To the disturbance of the wondering ground.  
The skies are darkened as they yet do hover  
In so gross clouds congested in their flight,  
That the whole Land with multitudes they cover,  
Stopping the streams as generally the light.  
O cruel Land, might these not yet thee move?  
Art thou alone so destitute of fear?  
Or dost thou mean thy utmost to approve  
How many plagues thou able art to bear?  
Three have forethreatned thy destruction sure.  
And now the fourth is following on as fast,  
Dost thou suppose thy pride can still endure?  
Or that his vengeance longer cannot last?  
These are as weak and worthless as the rest,  
Thou much enfeebled, and his strength is more,  
Fitly prepared thee sadly to infest  
Thy sins so many, by their equal store.  
This wretched creature man might well suppose  
To be the least that he had need to fear,  
Amongst the rest is terrified with those  
With which before none ever troubled were.  
As we behold a swarming cast of Bees  
In a swollen cluster to some branch to cleave  
Thus do they hang in bunches on the trees,  
Pressing each plant, and loading every greave.  
The houses covered with these mustering Flies,  
And the fair windows that for light were made,  
Eclipsed with horror, seeming to their eyes  
Like the dim twilight, or some ominous shade.  
For humane food what Egypt had in store,  
The creatures feed on, till they bursting die,  
And what in this unhappy Land was more,  
Their loathsome bodies lastly purrifie:   

O goodly Goshen where the Hebrews roast,  
How dear thy children in th'Almighties sight,  
That for their sakes thou only shouldst be blessed,  
When all 〈◊〉 on the Egyptians light?  
What promised people rested thee within,  
To whom no peril ever might aspire,  
For whose dear sake some watchful Cherubin  
Stood to defend thee armed in glorious 〈◊〉  
Thou art that holy Sanctuary made,  
Where all th'afflicted cast aside their fear,  
Whose privileges ever to invade,  
The Heavens command their horrors to forbear.  
But since man's pride and insolence is such,  
Nor by these plagues his will to pass could bring,  
Now with a sharp and wounding hand will touch  
The dearer body of each living thing:  
To other ends his courses to direct.  
By all great means his glory to advance,  
Altereth the cause by altering the effect,  
To work by wonder their deliverance.   

As Aaron grasping ashes in his hand,  
Which scarcely cast into the open air,  
But brings a murrain over all the Land,  
With scabs and botches such as never were. 
The 5. Plague   
What chewos the cud, or hoof on horn allotted,  
Wild in the fields, or tamed by the yoke,  
With this contagious pestilence is rotten,  
So vniuersall's the Almighty's stroke.  
The goodly Horse of hot and fiery strain  
In his high courage hardly brooked his food,  
That Ditch or Mound not lately could contain,  
On the firm ground so scornfully that stood,  
Crest-fallen hangs down his hardly managed head,  
Lies where but late disdainfully he trod,  
His quick eye fixed heavily and dead,  
Stirs not when pricked with the impulsive goad.  
The Swine which Nature secretly doth teach,  
Only by fasting sicknesses to cure,  
Now but in vain is to itself a Leech,  
Whose sudden end infallibly is sure.  
Where frugal Shepherds reckoning wool 〈◊〉 lamb,  
Or who by Herds hoped happily to win, 〈◊〉  
Now sees the young-one perish with the dam,  
Nor dare his hard hand touch the poisoned skin.  
Those fertile pastures quickly overspread  
With their dead cattle, where the birds of prey  
Gorged on the garhidge (woefully bestead)  
poisoned fall down as they would fly away.  
And hungry dogs the tainted flesh refrained,  
Whereon their Master gormondized of late,  
What Nature for man's appetite ordained,  
The creature that's most ravenous doth hate.  
Thus all that breathes and kindly hath increase,  
Suffer for him that proudly did offend,  
Yet in this manner here it shall not cease, 
The 6 Plague.   
In Beasts begun, in wretched man to end.  
To whom it 〈◊〉 violently can,  
Not by th'Almighty limited to slake,  
As Beast is plagued for rebellious man,  
Man in some measure must his pain partake.  
Those dainty breasts that opened lately were,  
Which with rich veins so curiously did flow,  
With Biles and Blains most loathsome do appear,  
Which now the Dam'zell not desires to show,  
Features disfigured only now the fair  
(All are deformed) mostill-fauoured be,  
Where beauty was most exquisite and rare,  
There the least blemish easiliest you might see,  
For costly garments fashioned with device  
To form each choice part curious eyes to please,  
The sick man's Gown is only now in price  
To give their bloched and blistered bodies case,  
It is in vain the Surgeon's hand to prove,  
Or help of Physic to assuage the smart,  
For why the power that ruleth from above  
Crosseth all means of industry and Art.  
Egypt is now an Hospital forlorn,  
Where only Cripples and diseased are,  
How many Children to the world are borne,  
So many Lazars thither still repair.  
When those proud Magis as opposed to Fate,  
That durst high Heaven in every thing to dare,  
Now in most vile and miserable state  
As the meanest Caitive equally do far.  
Thus stands that man so eminent alone,  
Armed with his power that governeth the sky,  
Now when the Wizards lastly overthrown,  
Grovelling in sores before his 〈◊〉 do lie.  
Not one is found unpunished escapes  
So much to do his hungry wrath to feed,  
Which still appeareth in as many shapes  
As Pharaoh doth in tyrannies proceed.  
Even as some grave wise Magistrate to find  
Out some vile treason, or some odious crime  
That beareth every circumstance in mind, 
A simile of God's justice.   
Of place, of manner, instance, and of time:  
That the suspected strongly doth arrest,  
And by all means invention can devose  
By hopes or torture out of him to wrest  
The ground, the purpose, and confederacies,  
Now slacks his pain, now doth the same 〈◊〉  
Yet in his straight hand doth contain him still,  
Proportioning his allortted punishment  
As he's removed or pliant to his will.  
But yet hath Egypt some what left to vaunt,  
What's now remaining, may her pride repair,  
But lest she should perhaps be arrogant,  
Till she be humbled he will never spare.  
These plagues seem yet but nourished beneath,  
And even with man 〈◊〉 to move,  
Now Heaven his fury violently shall breathe,  
Rebellious Egypt scourging from above.   

Winter let loose in his robustious kind 
The 7. plague.   
Wildly runs raving through the airy plains,  
As though his time of liberty assigned  
Roughly now shakes off his 〈◊〉 chains.  
The winds spit fire in one another's face,  
And mingled flames fight furiously together,  
Through the mild Heaven that one the other chase,  
Now flying thence and then returning thither.  
No light but lightning ceaselesly to burn  
Swister than thought from place to place to pass,  
And being gone doth suddenly return  
E'er you could say precisely that it was.  
In oneself moment darkness and the light  
Instantly borne, as instantly they die,  
And every minute is a day and night  
That breaks and sets in twinkling of an eye.  
Mountain and valley suffer oneself iro,  
The stately Tower and lowly coat alike,  
The shrub and Cedar this impartial fire  
In one like order generally doth strike,  
On flesh and plant this subtle lightning prays,  
As through the pores it passage fitly finds,  
In the full womb the tender burden slays,  
Plercing the stiff trunk through the spongy rinds  
Throughout this great and 〈◊〉 Ball  
The wrath of Heaven outrageously is thrown,  
As the lights quickening and Celestial,  
Had put themselves together into one.  
This yet continuing the big-bellied clouds,  
With heat and moisture in their fullness broke,  
And the stern Thunder from the airy shrouds  
To the sad world in fear and horror spoke.  
The black storm bellowes and the yerning vaule,  
Full charged with fury as some signal given,  
Preparing their artillirie t'assault,  
Shoot their stern volleys in the face of Heaven.  
The bolts new winged with forked Aethereal fire,  
Through the vast Region every where do rove;  
Goring the earth in their impetuousire,  
Pierce the proudest building, rend the thickest Grove.  
When the breeme Hail as rising in degrees  
Like ruffled arrows through the air doth sing,  
Beating the leaves and branches from the trees,  
Forcing an Autumn earlier than the Spring.  
The Birds late shrouded in their safe repair,  
Where they were wont from Winter's wrath to nest,  
Left by the tempest to the open air  
Shot with cold bullets through the trembling breast.  
Whilst cattle grazing on the batsull ground,  
Finding no shelter from the shower to hide  
In ponds and ditches willingly are drowned,  
That this sharp storm no longer can abide.  
Windows are shivered to forgotten dust,  
The slates fall shatt'red from the roof above,  
Where any thing finds 〈◊〉 from this gust,  
Now even as death it feareth to remove.  
The rude and most impenetrable rock  
Since the foundation of the world was laid.  
Never before stirred with tempestuous shock,  
Melts with this storm as sensibly afraid.  
Never yet with so violent a hand,  
A brow contracted and so full of fear,  
God scourged the pride of a rebellious Land,  
Since into Kingdom's Nations gathered were.  
But he what Mortal was there ever known,  
So many strange afflictions did abide  
On whom so many miseries were thrown,  
Whom Heaven so oft and angrily did chide?  
Who but relenting Moses doth relieve?  
Taking off that which oft on him doth light.  
Whom God so oft doth punish and forgive,  
Thereby to prove his mercy and his might.  
So that eternal providence could frame  
The mean whereby his glory should be tried.  
That as he please, miraculously can tame  
Man's sensual ways, his transitory pride.  
But Pharaoh bend to his rebellious will,  
His hate to Israel instantly renews,  
Continuing Author of his proper ill,  
When now the plague of Grasshoppers ensues.   

Long ere they fell, on'th face of Heaven they hung, 
The 8. Plague.   
In so vast clouds as covered all the skies,  
Colouring the Sunbeams piercing through their throng,  
With strange distraction to beholding eyes.  
This idle creature that is said to sing  
In wanton Summer, and in Winter poor,  
Praising the Emmets painful labouring,  
Now eats the labourer and the heaped store.  
No blade of grass remaineth to be seen,  
Weed, herb, nor flower, to which the Spring gives birth,  
Yet every path even barren hills are green,  
With those that eat the greenness from the earth.  
What is most sweet, what most extremely sour,  
The loathsome Hemlock as the verdurous Rose,  
These filthy Locusts equally devour,  
So do the Heavens of every thing dispose.  
The trees all barcklesse nakedly are left  
Like people stripped of things that they did wear,  
By the enforcement of disastrous theft,  
Standing as frighted with erected hair:  
Thus doth the Lord her nakedness discover,  
Thereby to prove her stoutness to reclaim,  
That when nor fear, nor punishment could move her,  
She might at length be tempered with her shame.  
Disrobed of all her ornament she stands,  
Wherein rich Nature whilom did her dight,  
That the sad verges of the neighbouring lands  
Seem with much sorrow wondering at the sight.  
But Egypt is so impudent and vile,  
No blush is seen that pity might compel,  
That from all eyes to cover her awhile,  
The Lord in darkness leaveth her to dwell.   

Over the great and universal face 
The 9 〈◊〉   
Are drawn the Curtains of the horrid night,  
As it would be continually in place,  
That from the world had banished the light.  
As to the sight, so likewise to the tuch  
Th'appropriate object equally is dealt,  
Darkness is now so palpable and much,  
That as 'tis seen, as easily is felt.  
Who now it happed to travel by the way,  
Orin the field did chance abroad to room,  
Losing himself then wandered as a stray,  
Nor finds his hostrie, nor returneth home.  
The Cock the Country horologe that rings,  
The cheerful warning to the Sun's awake,  
Missing the dawning scantles in his wings,  
And to his Roost doth sadly him betake.  
One to his neighbour in the dark doth call,  
When the thick vapour so the air doth smother,  
Making the voice so hideous there withal,  
That one's afeard to go unto the other.  
The little Infant for the Mother shreckes,  
Then lies it down astonished with fear,  
Who for her Child whilst in the dark she seeks,  
Treads on the Babe that she doth hold so dear.  
Darkness so long upon the Land doth dwell,  
Whilst men amazed the hours are stolen away,  
Erring in time that now there's none can tell,  
Which should be night, and which should be the day.  
Three doubled nights the proud Egyptian lies  
With hunger, thirst, and weariness oppressed,  
Only relieved by his miseries,  
By fear enforced to forget the rest.  
Those lights and fires they laboured to defend  
With the foul damp that over all doth flow  
Such an eclipsed sullidnesse doth send,  
That darkness far more terrible doth show:  
When this perplexed and astonished King  
'Twixt rage and fear distracted in his mind,  
Israel to pass now freely limiting,  
Only their cattle to be stayed behind.  
Commanding Moses to depart his sight,  
And from that time to see his face no more,  
Which this mild man doth willingly acquit  
That he well knew would come to pass before.  
That for the Droves the Israelites should leave,  
Forbid by Pharaoh to be borne away:  
Israel shall Egypt of her store 〈◊〉  
To bear it with her as a violent prey:  
So wrought her God in the Egyptians thought,  
As he is only provident and wise,  
That he to pass for his choice people brought,  
More than man's wisdom ever might devose.  
Touching their soft breasts with a wounding love  
Of those who yet they enviously admired,  
Which doth the happy jacobites behoove,  
To compass what they instantly required,  
That every Hebrew borrowed of a friend,  
Some special jewel feignedly to use,  
Every Egyptian willing is to lend,  
Nor being asked can possibly refuse.  
Now Closets, Chests, and Cabinets are sought  
For the rich lem, the rarity, or thing,  
And they the happiest of the rest are thought,  
That the highest prized officiously could bring.  
Rings, chains, and bracelets, jewels for the care,  
The perfect glorious, and most lustrous stone,  
The Carcanet so much requested there,  
The Pearl most orient, and a Paragon.  
What thing so choice that curious Art could frame,  
Luxurious Egypt had not for her pride?  
And what so rare an Israelite could name,  
That he but ask was thereof denied?   

When God doth now the Passeover command,  
Whose name that sacred mystery doth tell,  
That he passed or them with a sparefull hand,  
When all the firstborn of th' Egyptians fell,  
Which should to their posterity be taught,  
That might for ever memoriz this deed,  
The fearful wonders he in Egypt wrought,  
For Abraham's offspring Sarahs' promised seed.  
A Lamb unblemished, or a spotless Kid,  
That from the dam had wained out a year,  
Which he without deformity did bid,  
Held to himself a sacrifice so dear.  
Roasted and eaten with vnleau'ned bread,  
And with sour herbs such 〈◊〉 as became,  
Meat for the Evening, that prohibited  
The Morn ensuing partner of the same.  
Girding their loins, shoes fastened to their feet,  
Staffs in their hands, and passing it to take,  
In manner asto travellers is meet,  
A voyage forth immediately to make.  
Whose blood being put upon the utmost posts,  
Whereby his chosen Israelites he knew,  
That night so dreadful, when the Lord of Hosts  
All the first borne of the Egyptians stew.  
Darkness invades the world, when now forth went 
The 〈◊〉. Plague.   
The spoiling Angel as the Lord did will,  
And where the door with blood was not besprent,  
There the first borne he cruelly did kill.  
Night never saw so tragical a deed,  
Thing so replete with heaviness and sorrow,  
Nor shall the day hereafter ever read,  
Such a black time as the ensuing morrow.  
The dawn now breaking, and with open sight  
When every labouring and affrighted eye  
Beholds the slaughter of the passed night,  
The parting plague protracted misery.  
One to his neighbour hasts his heedless feet,  
To bring him home his heavy chance to see,  
And him he goes to by the way doth meet,  
As grieved and as miserable as he.  
Who out of door now hastily doth come,  
Thinking to howl and bellow forth his woe,  
Is for his purpose destitute of room,  
Each place with sorrow doth so overflow.  
People awaked with this so deign fright,  
Run forth their doors as naked as they be,  
Forget the day, and bearing candle light  
To help the Sun their miseries to see.  
Who lost his first borne ere this plague begun,  
Is now most happy in this time of woe,  
Who mourned his eldest a daughter or a son,  
Is now exempt from what the rest must do.  
To one that feigns poor comfort to his friend,  
His Child was young and need the less be cared,  
Replies if his had lived the others end,  
Withal his heart he could him well have spared.  
No eye can lend a mourning friend one tear,  
So busy is the general heart of moan,  
So strange confusion sits in every ear,  
As wanteth power to entertain his own.  
Imparted woe (the heavy heart's relief)  
When it hath done the utmost that it may,  
Outright is murth'red with a second grief,  
To see one mute tell more than it can say:  
The greatest blessing that the heart could give,  
The joy of Children in the married state,  
To see his curse the parent now doth live,  
And none be happy but th' infortunate.  
Whilst some for burial of their Children stay,  
Others pass by with theirs upon the Beer,  
Which from the Church meet Mourners by the way,  
Others they find that yet are burying there.  
Afflicted London, in six bundred three,  
When God thy fin so 〈◊〉 did strike,  
And from th' infection that did spring from thee,  
The spacious Isle was patient the like.  
That sickly season, when I undertook  
This compositton faintly to supply,  
When thy affliction served me for a book,  
Whereby to model Egypt's misery,  
When pallid horror did possess thy street,  
Nor knew thy Children refuge where to have,  
Death them so soon in every place did meet,  
〈◊〉 houses to possess the grave.   

When woful Egypt with a wounded heart  
So many plagues that suffered for their stay,  
Now on their knees entreat them to depart,  
And even impatient of their long delay.  
Six hundred thousand Israolites depart,  
Besides the Nations that they thence released,  
And Hebrew Babes the joy of many a heart,  
That Sarahs' happy promises had blessed.  
After sour hundred thirty years expired,  
(Measuring by minutes many a wofoll hour)  
That day they came they thence again depart,  
By his eternal providence and power.  
With all the jewels Egypt could afford  
With them away that wisely they did bear,  
Th' Egyptians ask not to have back restored,  
All then so busy at their burials were:  
And Joseph's bones precisely thence convey, 
Comester in Exod.   
Whose Tomb by 〈◊〉 oft Inundations drowned,  
(Yet the deceased straitly to obey)  
By Moses was miraculously found.  
Who did in gold that powerful word engrave, 
〈◊〉   
By which th' Almighty fully is expressed,  
Which bore the mettle floating on the wave,  
Till o'er his Coffin lastly it did rest.  
As by a sheep that showed them to the same,  
To make them mindful of the reverend dead,  
Which Beast thenceforth they called by 〈◊〉 name,  
And when they went from Egypt with them led.  
But that he thus did find his burying place,  
As we tradition wisely may suspect,  
We only this as History embrace.  
But else in faith as fabulous neglect.    

THE THIRD BOOK.  
¶ The Argument.  

God drowns th' Egyptians in his ire,  
Doth march before his host in fire,  
From the hard rocks strikes 〈◊〉 springs,  
Reins Quails and Manna, conguers Kings,  
And searefull plagues on them doth try,  
For murmuring and idolatry:  
Unto the promised Land them brought,  
When it they 〈◊〉 years had fought;  
Balaam to bless them he doth send,  
Their good success, mild Moses' end.   

THose which at home scorned 〈◊〉 and his force,  
And whose departure he did humbly pray,  
He now pursues with his Egyptian horse  
And warlike foot to spoil them on the way.  
Where his choice people strongly to protect,  
The only God of Empery and might,  
Before his host his standard doth erect,  
A glorious pillar in a field of light,  
Which he by day in sable doth unfold,  
To dare the Son his Ardour to forbear,  
By night converts it into flaming gold,  
Away the coldness of the same to fear.  
Not by Philistia he his force will lead,  
Though the far nearer and the happier way,  
His men of war a glorious march shall tread  
On the vast bowels of the bloody Sea.  
And sends the winds as Currers forth before  
To make them way from Pharaohs power to fly,  
And to convey them to a safer shore,  
Such is his might that can make Ocean's dry.  
Which by the stroke of that commanding wand,  
Shouldered the rough seas forcibly together,  
Raised as Rampires by that glorious hand,  
('twixt which they march) that did conduct them thither.  
The surly waves their Rulers will obeyed  
By him made up in this confused mass,  
Like as an Ambush secretly were laid,  
To set on Pharaoh as his power should pass.  
Which soon with wombs insatiably wide,  
Loosed from their late bounds by th' Almighty's power,  
Come raging in, enclosing every side,  
And the Egyptians instantly devour.  
The Sling, the stiff 〈◊〉 and the sharpened Lance,  
Floating confusedly on the waters rude,  
They which these weapons lately did advance,  
Perish in sight of them that they pursued.  
Clashing of Armours, and the rumorous sound  
Of the stern billows in contention stood,  
Which to the shores do every way rebound,  
As doth affright the Monsters of the flood.  
Death is discerned triumphantly in Arms  
On the rough Seas his slaughtery to keep,  
And his cold self in breath of mortals warms,  
Upon the dimpled bosom of the deep.  
There might you see a Checkquered Ensign swim  
About the body of the envied dead,  
Serve for a hearse or coverture to him,  
Ere while did waste it proudly 'bout his head.  
The warlike Chariot turned upon the back  
With the dead horses in their oraces' tide,  
Drags their sat carcase through the foamy brack  
That drew it late undauntedly in pride.  
There floats the bard Steed with his Rider drowned,  
Whose foot in his caparison is cast,  
Who late with sharp spurs did his Courser wound,  
Himself now ridden with his strangled beast.  
The waters conquer (without help of hand)  
For them to take for which they never toil,  
And like a Quarry cast them on the land,  
As those they slew they left to them to spoil.  
In eighty eight at Dover that had been,  
To view that Navy (like a mighty wood)  
Whose 〈◊〉 swept Heaven, might eas'lie there have seen,  
How puissant Pharaoh perished in the flood.  
What 〈◊〉 a conquest strictiy they did keep,  
Into the channel presently was poured  
Castilian riches scattered on the deep,  
That Spain's long hopes had 〈◊〉 devoured.  
Th' afflicted English ranged along the Strand  
To waste what would this threatening power betide,  
Now when the Lord with a victorious hand  
In his high justice scourged th' Iberian pride.  
Hence three days march to Mara leads them on,  
Where Surs wild Deserts as the Army past  
Seemed as from their presence to have flown,  
The mountains stood so miserably aghast.  
Where for with drought they hardly are bestead,  
And the soul waters bitter as the gall,  
That they should through this wilderness be led  
To thankless murmuring presently they fall.  
God pointeth Moses to a precious tree,  
Whose medc'nall branches cast into the lake,  
Of that rare virtue he approved to be,  
The waters sweet and delicate to make.  
Not that his hand stands any way in need  
Of mediate means his purposes to bring,  
But that in state his wisdom will proceed  
To show his power in every little thing.  
Nor Metaphysics fully him confine,  
All measuring so immeasurably great,  
That doth in Nature every cause combine,  
This ALL in him so amply hath receipt.  
Which might have learned them in this helpless case,  
With tribulations willingly to meet,  
When men with patience troubles do embrace  
How oftentimes it makes affliction sweet.  
And his free bounty fully now they found,  
As they from Mara for mount Sina made,  
Pitching in Elim in that plenteous ground  
Of pleasant fountains and delicious shade.  
But as at Sur, so they again at Sin,  
Before of thirst, of hunger now complain,  
Wishing they might in Egypt still have been,  
Where never famine all their time did reign.   

When clouds of Quails from the Arabian shore  
Upon the Camp immediately are sent,  
Which came so long and in such marulous store,  
That with their flight they smothered every Tent:  
This glads the Evening, each unto his rest,  
With souls even sated with these dainty Cates,  
And the great goodness of the Lord confessed,  
That in like measure each participates.  
The morn strews Manna all about the host  
(The meat of Angels) 〈◊〉 to refresh,  
Candying the fresh grass, as the Winter's frost,  
Never such bread unto so dainty flesh  
O Israel pampered with this heavenly food,  
Which else to Nations earthly he denies,  
To raise thy spirits, to rectify thy Blood  
With these so rare celestial purities.  
Then the fat fleshpots they so much desire,  
Whereon in Egypt gluttoning they fed,  
When they came hungry home from carrying mire,  
Which only dulness, and gross humours bred.  
Yet in the sweetness and th' abundant store,  
His power not so conclusively expressed,  
But who took most not capable of more  
Than in his Gower he that gathered least.  
By night corrupting, each day gathering new,  
But for the Sabbath what they did provide,  
That day descended not that heavenly dew,  
That as that day was only sanctified.  
Thence through those Deserts desolate and dry,  
They reach to Raph'dom where as they should pass,  
There was not found a fountain far nor nigh,  
Such want of water every where there was:  
Thither the Lord by Moses did them bring,  
His force the faithless Israelites might know,  
For even in the impossiblest thing,  
He most delights his wondrous might to show.  
far worse than Mara is this fruitless soil,  
For there were waters (bitter though they were)  
But here are none, though sought with ne'er such toil,  
That they from murmuring longer not forbear.  
Commanding Moses he should take the Rod,  
Wherewith in Egypt he such wonders wrought,  
For that most wise, that secret-seeing God  
Saw there were some thus reasoned in their thought.  
The mystery of that miraculous wand  
He did to plagues and fearful things imply,  
That Aaron yet ne'er took it in his hand,  
When work of mercy was achieved thereby.  
Therefore bids Moses to this high intent,  
The same to use, they visibly might see,  
That this which erst had been the instrument  
Of justice, so of clemency to be.  
Which with a blow, the Cleeves in sunder cracked,  
As with an earthquake violently rend,  
Whence came so strong and rough a Cataract,  
That in the stones wore gutters as it went.  
The Springs spout forth such plenty, that withal  
Down the slope sides it violently swept,  
So diverse ways, so various in the fall,  
Through every cranny the clear water crept.  
In Pails, Kits, Dishes, Basins, Pinboukes, Bowls,  
Their scorched bosoms merrily they baste,  
Until this very hour their thirsty souls  
Never touched water of so sweet a taste.  
Scarcely susficed but in the very neck  
Of this, 'tis bruited by the watchful post,  
That the neere-bordring envious Amaleck.  
Was marching towards them with a mighty host,  
When he forth josua from the rest doth draw,  
A man selected, of courageous spirit,  
Which Moses with prophetic eye foresaw,  
Should be the man, his room that should inherit  
Commanding him to muster out of hand,  
And draw his forces presently to head,  
Against that proud Amalakite to stand,  
Which in the field a puissant Army led.  
Whilst on rock Horeb, with erected hand,  
Bearing the Rod up to the glorious sky,  
'twixt Hur and Aaren, Amrams' son doth stand,  
Whilst both the hosts for victory do try.  
When blades are brandished and the fight begun,  
War's thundering horror trumpets do proclaim,  
With the reflection of the radiant Sun,  
Seems to beholders as a general flame.  
Much courage and dexterity that day  
On either part sufficiently is shown,  
And on the earth full many a Soldier lay,  
Thrusting through danger to make good his own.  
Here men might see how many a strenuous guide  
Striveth to make his enemy to 〈◊〉  
Now the fierce vaward, than the rear ward plied,  
As he perceiveth the Battalians need.  
They fight the full day, he the Rod upheld,  
But when his strength by long continuing sails,  
Where as before the Israelites had quelled,  
The 〈◊〉 proud Amalakite prevails.  
Whilst the two Hebrews provident of harms.  
Setting grave Moses down upon a stone,  
And by their force support his wearied 〈◊〉  
Until the foe was lastly overthrown.   

jethro the just to whom report had told,  
Th'achievement wrought by his renowned son,  
That all the world did tributary hold,  
By deeds in Egypt God by him had done:  
This good old man to consummate their joys  
In happy hour his son is come to see,  
Bringing his wife and his two little Boys,  
Moses sent back in Midian sase to be:  
Which by this time two proper Youths are grown,  
Bred by their Grandsire with exceeding care,  
In all the host there hardly could be shown,  
That with those Boys for beauty could compare.  
Such mirth and feasting as for them was seen,  
For this grave Father and this goodly Dame,  
Unto this day in Israel had not been,  
Since to kind joseph righteous jacob came.  
The day mild Moses scarcely can sustice,  
To tell this man the troubles they had passed,  
The wonders God had acted in their eyes,  
Since they in Midian kindly parted last.  
jethro that marked the pains that Moses took  
In rising early, and in resting late,  
That did himself into all causes look,  
And in his person censure each debate:  
This Princely Priest a man exceeding wise,  
And long experienced in this great affair,  
(For at that time few States or Monarchies  
Whose government he could not well declare)  
Reproves good Moses in this zealous deed:  
(Quoth he) me thinks thou dost not well in this,  
The course wherein I see thou dost proceed  
Trouble to thee and to the people is.  
Appoint out judges, and inferior Courts,  
'twixt the Plebeians and thyself to be,  
From them receive those matters by report,  
Speak thou to God and let them speak to thee,  
In things importa t be thou still in place,  
In lesser causes leaving them to deal,  
So may you both your quietness embrace.  
By an exact and perfect Commonweal.   

Now when to Sina they approached near,  
God calls up Moses to the mount above,  
And all the rest commandeth to forbear,  
Nor from the bounds assigned them to remove.  
Nor who those limits lonsely did exceed,  
(Which were by Moses marked them out beneath)  
The Lord had irrevocably decreed  
With darts or stones should surely die the death.  
Where as the people in a wondrous fright  
(With hearts transfixed even with frozen blood)  
Beheld their Leader openly in sight  
Pass to the Lord, where he in glory stood.  
Thunder and Lightning led him down the air,  
Trumpets celestial sounding as he came,  
Which struck the people with astounding fear,  
Himself invested in a splendorous flame.  
Sina before him fearfully doth shake,  
Covered all over in a smouldering smoke,  
As ready the foundation to forsake,  
On the dread presence of the Lord to look.  
Erect your spirits and lend attentive care  
To mark at Sina what to you is said,  
Weak Moses now you shall not simply hear,  
The son of Amram and of lacobed.  
But he that Adam imparadise,  
And lent him comfort in his proper blood,  
And saved Noah, that did the Ark device,  
When the old world else perished in the flood,  
To righteous Abraham, Canaan frankly lent.  
And brought forth 〈◊〉 so extremely late,  
jacob so fair and many children sent,  
And raised chaste joseph to so high estate.  
He whose just hand plagued Egypt for your sake,  
That Pharaohs power so 〈◊〉 did mock,  
Way for his people through the Sea did make,  
Gave food from Heaven, and water from the Rock.  
Whilst Moses now in this cloud-covered hill,  
Full forty days his pure abode did make,  
Whilst that great God in his almighty will,  
With him of all his Ordinances broke.  
The Decalogue from which Religion took  
The being: sin and righteousness began  
The different knowledge: and the certain book  
Of testimony betwixt God and man.  
The Ceremonial as judicious laws,  
From his high wisdom that received their ground,  
Not to be altered in the smallest clause,  
But as their Maker wondrously profound.  
The composition of that sacred fane,  
Which as a Symbol curiously did show,  
What all his six days workmanship contain,  
Whose perfect model his own finger drew.  
Whose absence thence gave leisure to their lust,  
Oppugning Aaron, Idols them to frame,  
And by their power still strengthen this disgust,  
In him denouncing the Almighty's name.  
A gold-made God how durst you ever name.  
For him so long had led you from the Sky,  
In sight of Sina crowned with a flame,  
His glory thence 〈◊〉 in your eye?  
Such things might melt mortality to see,  
That even the very Elements did fright,  
He that in Egypt had performed for thee,  
What made the world amazed at his might.  
Thy soul 〈◊〉 ne'er before thou feltst,  
But like a Quarryed even clave thy breast,  
Coming from Sina when as thou breast,  
Th'elected Israel kneeling to a Beast,  
Him sense for forsook, his 〈◊〉 strengthless are,  
He came so much amazed therewithal,  
The stony Tables slipped him unaware,  
That with their own weight broke them in the fall.  
Down this proud lump ambitiously he flung  
Into base dust dissolving it-with fire,  
That since they for variety did long,  
They should thereby even surfeit their desire.  
And sent the mineral through their hateful throats,  
〈◊〉 late those horrid blasphemies did fly  
On bestial figures when they fell to dote  
In prostitution to idolatry.  
Now when this potion that they 〈◊〉 took,  
This Chemic medicine (their deserved sare)  
Upon their beards, and on their bosom stooke,  
He doth their slaughter presently prepare.  
What's he himself to Levis could ally  
Before this Calf not sinfully did fall,  
Girds not his broad blade to his sinewy thy,  
When he hears Moses unto Arms to call?  
Killing not him appointed he should slay,  
Though they had slept in either's arms before,  
Though in one womb they at one burden lay.  
Yea when this dead, though that could be no more?  
You whom not Egypt's tyranic could wound,  
Nor Seas, nor Rocks could any thing deny,  
That till this day no terror might astounded  
On the sharp points of your own swords to die?   

When Moses now those Tables to renew  
Of that essential Deity doth merit,  
(Which from his hands he dissolutely threw  
In the deep anguish of his grecued spirit.  
When forty days without all natural food)  
He on mount Sina fixed his abode,  
Retaining strength and fervour in his blood,  
Raped with the presence of that glorious God.  
Who in his high estate whilst he passed by  
In the cleft rock that holy man did hide,  
Lest he should perish by his radiant eye,  
When Moses seeing but his glorious side  
Celesliall brightness ceased on his face,  
That did the wondering Israelites amaze,  
When he returned from that sovereign place,  
His brows encireled with splendidious rays.  
That their weak sight beholding of the same,  
He after covered from the common eyes,  
Lest when for answer unto him they came,  
The lusting people should idolatrise.   

Might we those mustered Israclites admire  
From plains of Sina mighty Moses led,  
Or else to view that opulence desire,  
To that rich Ark so freely offered.  
The marvellous model of that rarest piece  
Th'engravings, carvings, and embroideries tell,  
The cunning work and excellent device  
Of neat Aholiah, and Bexaliell.  
But we our Moses seriously pursue,  
And our strong nerves to his high praise apply,  
That through this maze shall guide us as a Clue,  
And may his virtues absolutely try.  
Whose charge being weary of their mighty Arms,  
And much offended they had marched so long,  
As oft disturbed with their stern Alarms,  
Suppose by Moses to have suffered wrong.  
When with the luggage such as lagged behind,  
And that were set the Carriages to keep,  
'Gainst God and Moses' 〈◊〉 repined,  
Wanting a little sustenance and sleep.  
Who with their murmuring moved in his ire,  
That they so soon his providence mistrust,  
Down from his full hand flung that forceful fire,  
Which in a moment bruised their bones to dust.  
Other the muti'ring 〈◊〉 among  
When now to 〈◊〉 having come so far  
For flesh, fish, salads, and for fruits do long,  
Manna (they say) is not for men of 〈◊〉  
Their gluttonous stomaches loathe that heavenly bread,  
That with full Chargers hunger here relieves,  
As by the belly when they strongly fed  
On hearty Garlic and the flesh of Beefs?  
Mild man, what fearful agony thee vexed,  
When thou thy God unkindly didst upbraid?  
How grcevously thy suffering soul perplexed,  
When thou repinest the charge on thee was laid?  
With God to reason why he should dispose  
On thee that burden heavy to sustain,  
As though he did his purposes enclose  
Within the limits of man's shallow brain.  
To judge so many marching every dav,  
That all the flesh of Forest and of flood,  
(When the wild Deserts scarcely yield them way)  
Should them suffice for competence of food.  
That thou shouldst wish that hand so full of dread,  
Thy lingering breath should suddenly expire,  
Then that the clamorous multitude should spread,  
These wicked slanders to incite his ire.  
That God to punish whom he still did love,  
And in compassion of thy frailties fear,  
The spirit he gave thee lastly should remove  
To those thy burden that should after bear.  
O wondrous man! who paralleled thee ever?  
How large a portion didst thou inherit?  
That unto seventy he should it dissever,  
Yet all be Prophets only with thy Spirit?  
When lo a Cloud comes sailing with the wind  
Unto these Rebels terrible to see,  
That when they now some fearful thing divined,  
A flight of Quails perceived it to be.  
A full day's journey round about the host,  
Two Cubits thickness over all they flow,  
That when by Israel he was tempted most,  
His glory then most notably to show.  
The greedy people with the very sight  
Are filled before they come thereof to taste,  
That with such surfeit gluts their appetite  
Their queasy stomaches ready are to cast.  
Those that for Beef in Gluttonic did call  
Those the highest God his powerfulness to try,  
Cloys with the fowl that from the Heavens do fall,  
Until they stoffe their stomaches by the eye.  
But whilst the flesh betwixt their teeth they chew,  
And suck the fat so delicately sweet,  
(With too much plenty that even fulsome grew  
That lies so common trodden with their feet.)  
That God impartial and so rightly just,  
When he had given them more than they desire,  
Duly to punish their insatiate lost,  
Powers down his plagues consuming as his fire.  
And with a strong hand violently strake  
Their blocd, distempered with luxurious diet,  
That soon the sores in groynes and armpits broke,  
Thus could the Lord scourge their rebellious riot.  
Aron and Miriam, all too much it were  
For grief when Moses' ready is to die;  
But you whom one womb happily did bear  
'Gainst your mild Brother needs must mutiny.  
O unkind Aaron when thou fond fram'dst  
That Beastlike Idol bowing Israel's knee,  
He then thee begged, that thou so basely blam'dst,  
And did divert the judgement due to thee.  
Immodest Miriam when the hand of might  
Left thee with loathsome leprosy defiled,  
Contemned and abject in the vilest sight,  
From the great host perpetually exiled:  
When thou hadst spit the vimost of thy spite,  
And for thy sin this plague on thee was thrown,  
He not forsook thee but in heavy plight  
Kneeling to God obtained thee for his own.  
His wondrous patience ever was applied  
To those on him that causelessly complain,  
Who did with comely carelessness deride  
What happy men should evermore disdain.   

When now the Spials for the promised soil,  
For the twelve Tribes that twelve in number went,  
Having discovered forty days with toil,  
Safely returned as happily they went:  
Bringing the Figs, Pomegranates, and the Grapes,  
Whose verdurous clusters that with moisture swell,  
Seem by the taste and strangeness of the shapes,  
The place that bore them faithfully to tell.  
That well expressed the nature of the earth,  
So full of liquor and so wondrous great.  
That from such wished fruitfulness in birth,  
Sucked 〈◊〉 sweet marrow of a plenteous teat.  
But whilst they stand attentively to hear  
The sundry soils wherein they late had been,  
Telling what Giants did inhabit there,  
What Towns of war that walled they had seen.  
Of Anacks offspring when they come to tell,  
And their huge stature when they let them see,  
And of their shapes so terrible and fell,  
Which were supposed the Titanois to be.  
Their hearts sunk down, and though the fruits they saw  
By their rare beauty might allure their eyes,  
Yet this report their coward souls did awe,  
And so much daunt the forward enterprise,  
That they their God do utterly refuse,  
Against just Moses openly exclaim,  
And were in hand a Captain them to choose  
To guide them back to Goshen whence they came.  
Not all the dread of the Egyptian days,  
What by mild Moses he to pass had brought,  
Nor seen by him done at the purple Seas,  
On their vile minds a higher temper 〈◊〉  
Whom when of God 〈◊〉 begged with bloody eyes,  
And against Heaven did obstinately strive,  
Obtained so hardly their immunities,  
Whose sin seemed greater than he could forgive.  
Caleb and josua you courageous men,  
When bats and stones against your breasts were laid,  
Oppose yourselves against the other ten,  
That expedition basely that dissuade.   

Quoth they to conquer as he did before  
No more than men, what praise his puissance yields,  
But he whose force the very Rocks did gore,  
Can with the same hand cleave their brazen shields.  
He that foresaw that this should be our seat,  
And only knew the goodness of the same,  
Possessed the place with those that were so great  
For us to keep if safely till we came.  
For which the Lord did vow that not a man  
At Sina mustered where such numbers were,  
Should live to come to fruitful Canaan,  
Only those two so well themselves that bear.  
And for the baseness of those erecreant Spies  
Whose melting minds this impious slander bred,  
And the vile peoples in credulities,  
In that their God so strongly promised.  
For forty days discourie of the Land,  
They forty years in wildetnes shall waste,  
Consumed with plagues from his impetuous hand,  
Until that age be absolutely past.  
Which scarcely spoke, but quickly took effect,  
For those so cold, and cowardly before,  
Hearing the censure of their base neglect,  
To make his vengeance and their sin the more.  
Entering the Land which Moses' them denies,  
Their desperate will no better can afford,  
Offering those lives they did so lightly prise  
Unto the vengeance of the Heath'nish sword.  
And in the host new factions daily grew,  
When Chores, Dathan, and Abiram rise,  
Two hundred men of special note that drew,  
Whose strength gave power to their confederacies.  
But the vast earth incontinently clave,  
And on the sudden hurried them to hell  
With the shrill screame the shrieking people gave,  
The fainting Host into a fever fell:  
The rest of the Conspirators were left  
(From the first's fall enforcing their retire,  
Of all the succours of the host bereavest)  
Consumed to ashes with Heaven's violentfire:  
And those th' abettors of this vile attempt  
That did mild Moses' cruelly pursue,  
From th' others sin that could not be exempt,  
Them with the dreadful pestilence he slew.  
That had not Aaron when all hope was fled  
With holy Incense their atonement wrought,  
Thrusting himself 'twixt th'living and the dead,  
All had to ruin utterly been brought.  
Where fourteen thousand and seven hundred sank  
Under the burden of their odious sin,  
Which now was waxed s'insufferably rank,  
It was high time his vengeance should begin.   

When after this so terrible a thing,  
Now that triumphant and miraculous wand,  
Brings forth ripe Almonds, strongly witnessing  
In Levies Tribe the Priesthood still to stand.  
With leaves and blossoms bravely it doth 〈◊〉  
Some budding, some as instantly but blown,  
As when the same the naturallrynd did nourish,  
For Moses' sake such Miracles were shown.  
Forward to Cadesh they their journey cast,  
Where the good Miriam makes her 〈◊〉 hour,  
Miriam the fair, the excellent, the chaste,  
Miriam that was of womanhood the flower,  
Here bids her Brothers lovingly adieu,  
Who at her parting kiss her closing eyes,  
Whose wondrous loss sufficiently to rue,  
More is the grief that tears cannot suffice.  
Moist are their eyes, their lips are shrunk with heat,  
Their grief within, as outward it appears,  
Their want of water in that place as great,  
As it to them is plentiful of tears.  
They at one instant mutiny and mourn,  
Sorrows creep forth confusedly together,  
The tears for her incontinent they turn  
To words 'gainst Moses that did guide them thither:  
Who from the rock struck water with the wand,  
That man and beast might 〈◊〉 maintain,  
But he from rocks that fountains can command,  
Cannot yet stay the fountains of his brain.  
Much woe for Miriam these good men did make,  
Whilst there weretwo, that might bewail this one,  
But two departing for their mutual sake,  
Moses remains to mourn himself alone.  
Aaron the ancientest of the Hebrew lino,  
Replete with natural comeliness and grace.  
(Godlike so far as man might be divine)  
Endeth his days in this predest'ned place.  
Which being forewarned to await his end,  
And here the fate foretelling him to die,  
That the good hour doth only now attend,  
Willed to ascend the mountain (being nigh.)  
With Eleazar his dear Child he goes,  
Led by mild Moses as the Lord decreed,  
To his loved Son his garments to dispose,  
Him in the Priesthood pointed to succeed.  
When turning back to bid them all adieu,  
Who looked as fast to bid this Lord farewell,  
Fountains of late so fast from rocks ne'er flew,  
As the salt drops down their sad bosoms fell.  
Not the obdurat'st, not the stoniest hearts,  
That in deep sorrow melting here forbears,  
Those to whom Nature not those drops imparts,  
Spent what in sighs, the other did in tears.  
Sated with sobs, but hungry with his sight,  
Their watery eyes him earnestly pursue,  
When to discern him they no longer might  
Where their sight ends, their sorrows do renew.  
come to the top, to the appointed place.  
His Son in all his ornaments invested,  
Which the good Aaron meekly doth embrace,  
And unto him his offices bequested.  
When they the time no longer could adjourn,  
After embraces and a flood of woes,  
(Which when one ceased the other took his turn)  
From either's eye that on the other flows.  
Now at the last point, at the gasp of death.  
He whom the whole world hath but such another,  
Gives up his latest, his most blessed breath,  
In the dear arms of his beloved Brother.  
So wisely worketh that eternal Being  
By the still changes of their varying state,  
(As to the end through the beginging seeing)  
To build the frame of unavoided Fate.  
When those given up to their lascivious wills,  
Themselves in Midian wantonness that waste,  
Whose fleshly knowledge siped those sugared ills,  
Twenty four thousand slaughtered at the last.  
Of all those that in Sina numbered are,  
I'th' plains of Moab mustered then again,  
Wasted by time, fire, pestilence, and war,  
Those promised two and Moses did remain.   

The time expired that they for Aaron mourned,  
New conquest now, new comfort them doth bring,  
Their former hope successively returned,  
That seemed before so sadly languishing.  
When they the glorious victory obtai e  
The Plains of Horma scattered all with shields,  
Where Arad and his Canaanites are slain,  
Not the least fight of many glorious fields.  
With Schon's slaughter seconded again,  
And Ogs great fall of a Gigantic strength,  
Whose bed of iron fash'oned to contain  
In breadth four Cubits, doubling it in length:  
The living temnant of the mighty race,  
Of big-boned Anack terrible and dread,  
Which long time battening in that 〈◊〉 place,  
Grew like the fat soil wherein they were bred.  
Not Poets fictions of the Phlagrian fields,  
Whereas the Giants up to Heaven would climb,  
Heaping on mountains not such wonder yields,  
As did the men that lived in that time.  
And five proud Kings fell in their recreant flight,  
Before armed Israel on the Midian plame,  
Zur, Hur, and Eui, men of wondrous might,  
Reba and Rikem valiantly slain.  
And as his strength crushed mighty Kings to dust,  
And cloven the helms that thunder proof were thought.  
That hand that helped them, seourged their impious lust,  
When his high judgement to pervert they sought.  
And sent those Serpents (with their fiery stings,)  
With in flammations that their flesh did swell,  
Sharply toscourge their trustless murmurings,  
That still in infidelity did dwell.  
Rare in this creature was his wondrous might,  
That should effect the nature of the fire,  
Yet to recure the sorance by the sight,  
Sickness might seem the remedy t'admire.  
Only by mettle miracles to work,  
That Scrpents' shape, the Serpent's hurt should heal,  
To show in him the mysteries that lurk.  
And being so strange, as strangely doth reveal.  
That the forged figure of so vile a thing  
Should the disease so presently remove,  
Only by th' eye a remedy to bring,  
Deep searching Magic leaveth to approve,  
As Balaams' beast did 〈◊〉 haste delay,  
And the full purpose of the Prophet broke,  
When he beheld the Angel by the way,  
Burst out from beast, and to his Master spoke:  
Whose execration able to astounded  
The sun, when he his Summer's height did boast,  
And with a word could instantly confound  
The world, were it a congregated host.  
He whose wife lips could Oracles compile,  
And judgements irrevocable did 〈◊〉  
Should be confounded by the thing most 〈◊〉  
By that base creature, the dull worthless Ass,  
Ruling his mouth as with a Rider's bit,  
Bidden by Balaack to denounce their fall:  
Doth all his dreadful Minaces acquit,  
Sounding their blessing and their enemies fall.   

When this mild man that only did remain,  
Of those from Egypt that the Lord did bring,  
Which he in justice sundry ways had slain,  
For their false worship and their murmuring.  
Since he remiss at Meriba was proved,  
And there his zeal not ardently expressed,  
The Lord did swear (though him he dear loved)  
He should not come to Canaan as the rest.  
And now approaching Abaris (the place)  
From whence he might that promised Country see,  
(So much the Lord good Moses pleased to grace)  
But there his days must consummated be.  
When this great Prophet 〈◊〉 had blessed,  
Each several Tribe with a particular good,  
Whose parting, them with sorrow so oppressed,  
That shedding tears, their eyes shed drops of blood.  
To Nebo scared admitably 〈◊〉  
(The Spirit prepares him safely to retire)  
Which thrusts his head into the cloudy 〈◊〉  
Pisga so proudly thither dare aspire.  
Pisga the height of Abaris, and this  
The height of Pisga over all doth stand,  
That as the eye of mighty Abaris  
Suruayeth the imparallelled Land.  
Where goodly Gilead unto him he shows  
As far as ever he could look to Dan,  
The length and breadth how every way it goes,  
Till her brow kiss the calm Mediteran.  
Where the sweet South lays forth her swelling breast,  
With a pleased eye he silently surveyed,  
To that fair City whose high Towers do rest  
Under the Palmetrees most delicious shade.  
When this meek man approaching to his death,  
In death e'en pleased fair Canaan to behold,  
Whilst he had use of his expiring breath,  
Thus his last farewell mildly doth enfold.  
Israel (quoth he) dear Israel, now adieu,  
Moses no more is, that your Leader was,  
josua and 〈◊〉 none but only you,  
Of the last age must over jordan pass.  
Th' Egyptian horrors yet 'twas I did see,  
And through those strange calamities did wade,  
And Israel's charge imposed was on me,  
When they (but then) had scarcely learned to dead.  
Forty two journeys have I straight passed  
Since first this glorious Pilgrimage begun,  
In wrath or mercy where as first or last,  
Some wondrous thing hath happily been done:  
M'immortall Maker that so oft have seen  
(That God of wonder:) these complaints not boot,  
In yonder fields so delicate and green,  
That may not set my miserable foot.  
Thus leaning back against the rising Clieve,  
Raising his saint hands to the hopeful skies,  
Meek as the morning never seen to strive,  
Greatest of the Prophets the good Moses dies,  
An hundred twenty hardly passed years,  
His natural vigour no 〈◊〉 did 〈◊〉  
His eye as bright his body 〈◊〉 appears,  
As in the height and Summer of his 〈◊〉  
Who being dissolved the Angels did inter  
near to Bethpeor in the vallied ground,  
But yet so secret kept his Sepulchre  
That it by mortal never should be found.  
Lest that his people (if the place were known)  
(Seeing by him the miracles were done,  
That ever to Idolatry were prone,)  
Unto his bones a worshipping should run.  
One that God graced so many sundry ways,  
No former age hath mentioned to be,  
Arrived at the period of his days  
The future time in Israel shall not see.     

DAVID AND GOLIATH.  

Our sacred Muse, of Israel's Singer sings,  
That heavenly Harper, whose harmonious 〈◊〉  
Expelled that evil Spirit which Saul possessed,  
And of his torments of en him released;  
That Princely Prophet David, whose high Lays,  
Immortal God, are Trumpets of thy praise,  
Thou Lord of hosts be helping then to me,  
To sing of him who hath so sung of thee,   

What time great Saul after so bloody fights,  
Returned a victor of th'. Amalakites,  
(Two hundred and ten thousand men at arms  
Under his conduct) had 〈◊〉 the harms  
Done to God's chosen people, when as they  
Came back from Egypt, troubled on their way:  
Saul with their blood had now manured the Plains,  
Leading King Agag (as a slave) in chains:  
But for that Saul this Agags' blood had spared,  
And'gainst the will of the Almighty dared  
To save that man he should have put to sword,  
For disobeying the Almighty's word,  
Their larded Fatlings keeping for a prey,  
Which he commanded to be made a way:  
For which the living God displeased, swore  
To holy Samuel, Saul should reign no more;  
Samuel Gods Prophet, by whose holy hand  
The Oil was poured (by his divine command)  
Upon the head of comely Saul when he  
Was chosen over Israel to be:  
But for that place another God had pointed,  
Which should by Samuel likewise be anointed:  
And this was David his most dear delight,  
The son of Ishay the just Bethlemite  
Mean while this Youth like a poor Shepherd clad,  
(Of whom such care the God of Israel had)  
His father's flock was following day by day  
Upon a Desert near at hand that lay;  
Whose wealthy fleeces and fat bodies he  
From ravenous vermin hourly vaed to free,  
His only arms, his Sling and Sheephook were,  
Other then those he had not used to bear,  
With these a Wolf oft coming from the wood,  
Or subtle Fox, that foraged for his food,  
He quickly slew; or if a Bear oppressed  
With cruel hunger, happened to molest  
His feeding flocks, he with such bangs him plied,  
That with the prey even in his teeth he died;  
Or if a Lion as his fair flock grazed,  
Happed to assail it, he no whit 〈◊〉  
At his stern roaring, when his clutches caught  
At this brave Shepherd, but such blows him reached  
Till by the beard that kingly beast he shook,  
And from his jaws the trembling Weather took;  
And if it chanc'i that sometime from the air  
An Eagle stooped a Lamb away to bear,  
He with a stone that from his Sling he threw,  
Down from the clouds would fetch her as she flew.   

His curled Tresses on his shoulders hung,  
To which the dews at Morn and Eve so clung,  
To the beholders that they did appear  
As nature threded Pearl with every hair:  
The Bees, and Wasps, in wildernesses wild  
Have with his beauties often been beguiled,  
Roses and Lilies thinking they had seen,  
But finding there they have deceived been,  
Play with his eyes, which them that comfort bring.  
That those two Suns would shortly get a spring;  
His Lips in their pure Coral liveries mock  
A row of Pales cut from a Crystal Rock,  
Which stood within them, all of equal height.  
From top to toe each limb so clean and strait,  
By every joint of his that one might try,  
Or give true laws to perfect Symmetry;  
The vermin (oft) his Sheep that would surprise  
Became so charmed with th' splendour of his eyes,  
That they forgot their ravine, and have laid  
Down by his flocks, as they would glad and fain  
Keep them from others, that on them would pray,  
Or tend upon them, that they should not stray.  
Whether in Cotes he had his flock in hold,  
Or for the Fallows kept them in the fold,  
He was not idle, though not taking pains,  
Celestial Lyrics singing to the Swains,  
And often sitting in the silent shade,  
When his fair flock to rest themselves were laid,  
On his Lyretuned such harmonious Lays,  
That the Birds perched upon the tender sprays,  
Mad at his music, strain themselves so much  
To imitate th'unimitable tuch,  
Breaking their hearis, that they have dropped to ground,  
And died for grief in malicing the sound.  
Sometimes a Stag he with his Sling would slay,  
Or with his Sheephook kill a Boar at bay,  
Or run a Roe so long (he was so fleet)  
Till it lay trembling, breathless, at his feet,  
Some times again, he practised a fight,  
That from the Desert, should a Dragon light  
Upon his Sheep, the Serpent to assail,  
How by clear skill through courage to prevail.  
Then with a small stone thrown out of his Sling  
To hit a swallow on her height of wing,  
And home at night when they their Sheep should drive,  
The sluggish Shepherds lastly to revive,  
He took his Harp so excellently strung,  
In a broad Bauldrick at his back that hung,  
And on the same stroke such melodious strains,  
That from the Coverts as the neighbouring Plains,  
The Echoes waked with sweetness of his notes,  
Which each to other diligently roots;  
And thus his time the Lords beloved past,  
Till God to Samuel calling at the last;   

Samuel saith he, to Bethlem take thy way,  
To Ishays house, and to that old man say,  
Out of his loins that I will choose a King,  
And when his Sons before thee he shall bring,  
Choose out that man that I shall thee appoint,  
With sacred Oil and see thou him anoint,  
For of them all, he's known to me right well  
The fitst to guide my people Israel.   

Samuel replies my God, it Saul shall know  
Upon what business I to Bethlem go,  
Except my blood him nothing will susfice.  
Take thou a Heifer, God again replies,  
And give it out thou purposely dost go  
To sacrifice; as God doth counsel, so  
The holy Prophet acts, and coming thither,  
The noblest of people get together,  
Doubring the Lord had angry with them been,  
And had sent Samuel to reprove their sin;  
But peace to all the holy Prophet cries,  
And then preparing to the sacrifice.  
The Rites performed, he bids old Ishay bring  
His Sons before him whilst the offering  
Smoked on the Altars (and the Elders there  
Stood round about with reverence and fear)  
For in his household he a King must choose.  
Ishay who might not Gods command refuse,  
Calls Eliab out for Samuel to see,  
Who at the first thought surely this was he,  
Till God to Samuel said, do not deceive  
Thyself (weak man) but thy election leave,  
Thou canst not see the school of man, as I  
Who search the heart, and every thought can try.  
His second son Abniadab then came,  
But this not he that Samuel must name;  
Then calls he Shamna his third son, but yet  
This was not he th'Almighties turn must fit,  
He calls for more till he had counted seven,  
To none of these yet must the Oil be given:  
Before the Prophet brother stood by brother,  
A twelvemonth's growth one just before another;  
Like seven brave blossomed Plants, that in the spring  
Nature prepared forth goodly fruit to bring:  
So comely all, that none in them could read  
Which one of them should any one exceed,  
If he excelled for loveliness of face,  
Another for his person and his grace  
Matched him at full, as nature meant to show  
Her equal bounties how she could bestow.  
There he beholds one brother tall and strait,  
Another that was wanting of his height,  
For his complexion and his curious shape,  
Well near out went him, nature let not scape  
Ought she could do, in them each limb to fit  
To grace the other that was next to it.  
When Samuel asks if these were all he had,  
Ishay replies, only his youngest Lad  
That in the Desert on his flocks doth tend,  
Samuel commands away for him to send,  
For till he came he vowed he would not sit,  
Out 〈◊〉 place nor would he stir a whit.   

Before grave Samuel David soon is brought,  
Upon the Prophet which most strongly wrought  
When he beheld him beautiful and tall,  
Of goodly presence, and well shaped withal,  
His cheek a mixture of such red and white,  
As well with wonder might attract the sight,  
A sprightful aspect, and so clear an eye,  
As shot a lightning at the standers by,  
His every gesture seen it in to bring  
The majesty that might befit a King;  
All those rare parts that in his brothers were  
Epitomised, at large in him appear;  
And (in his ear) God doth the Prophet tell,  
This David shall be King of Israel.  
Whom with the sacred Oil (instead of Saul)  
Samuel anointed there before them all:  
Which having done, to Rama takes his way,  
Lest Saul for him the country should forelay:   

When Kingly David of his own accord,  
Though he were then th'anointed of the Lord,  
And though his Sheephook might his Sceptre be,  
This holy Youth so humble is, that he  
Will back toth' fields his father's flock to keep,  
And make his subjects, (for a while) his Sheep.   

The powerful spirit of God, redoubled grew  
Daily in David, and his same now flew  
O'er all the Region, how he was beloved  
Of God's high Prophet, and by him approved;  
Field, Town, and City, with his name doering,  
The tender Virginsto their Timbrels sing  
Dirties of him, and in their rural plays,  
The homely Shepherds in their Roundelays  
Record his acts, 〈◊〉 build him shady Bowers,  
The Maidens make him Anadems of flowers,  
And to what sport himself he doth apply,  
Let's follow David, all the people cry.   

An evil spirit then sent by God possessed  
Enraged Saul. so grievously oppressed.  
With melancholy, that it crazed his wits,  
And falling then into outrageous fits,  
With cramps, with stitches and convulsions racked,  
That in his pangs he oft was like to act  
His rage upon himself, so raving mad,  
And soon again disconsolate and sad;  
Then with the throbs of his impatient heart,  
His eyes were like out of his head to start,  
Foams at the mouth, and often in his pain  
O'er all his Court is heard to roar again;  
As the strong spirit doth punish or doth spare,  
Even so his fits or great, or lesser are,  
That Israel now doth generally lament  
Upon their King God's grievous punishment.  
When some which saw this spirit possessing Saul,  
Amongst themselves a counsel quickly call,  
To search if there might remedy be found  
For this possession, each man doth propound  
His thought of curing, as by Physic some,  
Each man speaks what into his mind doth come,  
But some whose souls were ravished more high,  
Whose composition was all harmony,  
Of th'Angels nature and did more partake,  
By which as Seers prophetically they spoke;  
(Wish holy Magic for some spirits inspired  
Which by a clear Divinity are fired,  
And sharpened so, each depth and height to try,  
That from their reach and visibility  
Nature no secrets shuts, and heaven reveals  
Those things which else from reason it conceals)  
Those men conclude the spirit that thus had harmed  
Their sovereign Saul, with Music must be charmed.   

And having heard of Israel's dear delight,  
Beloved David the brave Bethlemite,  
What wondrous things by Music he had done,  
How he fierce Tigars to his hand had won,  
Had laid the Lion, and the Bear to sleep,  
And put such spirit into his silly sheep  
By his high strains, as that they durst oppose  
The Wolf and Fox, their most 〈◊〉 foes:  
Of this Musician they inform the King,  
And all assure him, there was no such thing  
For him as Music, and this man was he  
That his 〈◊〉 in this kind must be.   

When Saul dispaicht his messengers away  
To aged I shay, that without delay,  
His youngest son David should to Court be sent:  
The speedy Post relating the intent  
To the old man: which in his heart was glad,  
For at the first he great suspicion had,  
That angry Saul might else have been acquainted,  
By samuel's hand his son had been anointed,  
And therefore caused David to be sought,  
As of his death he direly had forethought.   

The good old man o'er joyed with this good news,  
Calls home his darling from his teeming Ewes,  
And to the care of Israel's God commends  
His loved boy, and kindly by him sends  
Of Bread and Wine a present to the King.  
They him no sooner to Saul's presence bring,  
But David's beauty so extremely took  
The doting King, thatin each glance or look,  
He thought he saw high valour mixed with truth,  
And near his person takes the lovely Youth,  
And who but David then with mighty Saul  
His only favourite is, his all in all?   

Not long it is e'er Saul the spirit doth seel  
To stir within him, and begins to reel,  
And suddenly into a Trance he falls,  
And with his hands lies grasping at the walls,  
When David takes his well-runed Harp in hand.  
By which the spirit he meaneth to command;  
His quavering fingers he doth now advance  
Above the trembling strings, which gi'en to dance  
At his most clear touch, and the winged sound  
About the spacious Room began to bond,  
The Aers flew high, and every dainty strain  
Betters the former, which doth so detain,  
The ears of those stood by, that they hear not  
Saul's sad complaints, and suddenly forgot  
To list or stir him, and the standers by,  
Were so intransed with the melody,  
That to a holy madness some it brought,  
Others again to Prophecy it wrought.  
The Wyery cords now shake so wondrous clear,  
As one might think an Angel's voice to hear  
From every quaver, or some spirit had penned  
Itself of purpose in the Instrument;  
The harmony of the vntuned'st string  
Torments the spirit which so torments the King,  
Who as he faintly, or he strongly groans,  
This brave Musician altereth so his tones,  
With sounds so soft, as like themselves to smother,  
Then like loud Echoes answering one the other:  
Then makes the spirit to shift from place to place,  
Still following him with a full Diapase:  
Thus day by day as th'evil spirit oppressed  
Diseased Saul, David himself addressed,  
Tawayte the hours, before the King to play,  
Until he made th'unruly fiend obey  
The force of Music, more than that to fear  
But the least sound of David's Harp to hear.   

When now the King by David's cunning cured,  
Old Ishais Son who thought he had endured  
Restraint too long, gets leave of Saul to go  
To Bethlem back (Gods holy will was so)  
He rather chose to view his well-shorne Sheep,  
His yeaning Ewes, and late-falne Lambs to keep,  
Then on a Bed of silk himself repose,  
And the delights of the fresh fields to lose.   

When now Philistia horribly enraged.  
With Gods own people had itself engaged,  
With a revengeful deadly hand to smile  
The still-preserued oft-troubled Israelite,  
Who had in Battle many times before  
Upon the earth spilt her unhallowed gore.  
Grim-visaged war, more sternly doth awake,  
Than it was wont, and furiously doth shake  
Her lightning sword, intruding with the force  
Of men of war both skilful foot and horse.  
Two mighty nations are now up in arms,  
And to both sides the Soldiers come in swarms:  
The fields with Ensigns, ast'were flowers are decked  
Which their refulgence every way reflect  
Upon the Mountains and the valleys nigh  
And with their splendour seem to court the sky.  
Two mighty Armies on the plain appear,  
These Isralites, and those Philistines were;  
Their great Commanders, proved men of war:  
Their long experience, who had fetched from sarre,  
To order fights as they occasion found  
T'offend the foe, by fitting with the ground,  
Which chosen Israel's infantry doth call  
In this defensive war to follow Saul  
And aged Isha faithfully to show  
The love to Saul, and Israel he doth owe,  
His eldest three into the Army sent,  
That to the field, as well appointed went,  
As on their bravery they that bore them most,  
Nor was there, in the Israelitish host  
Three goodlier men, especially when they  
Were in their Arms, the most unclouded day  
That ever shone, took not with such delight  
The glad beholders, as the wondering sight  
Of these brave Youths, still as they marched by.   

Now in the fields the mighty Armieslye  
On the wide champain, each in others sight;  
But as the Trumpets shout them out to fight,  
From the Philistians host a Giant came,  
Whose splendorous Arms shone like a mighty flame  
Against the sun; Goliath named of Gath;  
The only Champion that Philistia hath:  
This huge Colossus, than six Cubits height  
More by a handful: and his ponderous weight.  
Wheresoever he made but any little stay,  
Showed that his breadth, it answered every way:  
Never such might in mortal man there was,  
From head to foot at all points armed with brass,  
Five thousand shackles his proved Curates weighed,  
Upon whose temper, wondrous cost was laid:  
His Shield and Harness well might load a Team,  
His Lance as big as any Weaver's beam;  
Whose very Pyle upon the poise contained  
A hundred shackles, he a less disdained:  
His Brows like two steep Penthouses hung down  
Over his eyelids, and his angry frown  
Was like a cloud, when it like Pitch appears,  
And some stern tempest in its bosom bears:  
His voice was hoarse, and hollow, yet so strong,  
As when you hear the murmuring of a throng  
In some vast arched Hall, or like as when  
A Lordly Lion angered in his den,  
Grumbles within the earth, such his resembled,  
That when he spoke, th' affrighted hearers trembled:  
His Squire before him marching to the field,  
Who for this Champion bore a second shield.   

Upon two easy hills the Armies lay  
A valley 'twixt them in the middle way:  
Into the midst of which, goliah came,  
And thus doth to the Israelites proclaim,  
If there be found in all your host quoth he  
A man so valiant, that dare fight with me,  
If I shall fall under his mighty sword,  
Israel shall then be the Philistinas Lord:  
But if I by my puissance shall prevail  
Over your Champion (that shall me assail)  
Then as our slaves, of you we will dispose;  
And use at pleasure, as our conquered foes,  
For he that's God of the Philistians, boasts  
Himself more powerful than your Lord of hosts.  
Which challenge thus, not only troubled Saul,  
But bred amazement through the host in all.  
For forty days thus used he forth to go,  
Offering by combat to decide it so.   

Old Ishay now desiring much to hear,  
Of his three Sons (in what estate they were)  
Doubting lest they some needful things might want,  
As in the Army, victuals might grow scant;  
Wherefore he calls young David from his sheep,  
And to another gives his charge to keep.  
My Boy quoth he, haste to the Camp and see  
In what estate my Sons your Brothers be:  
Bear them parched corn, and cakes, though homely food,  
Yet simple cates may do poor Soldiers good:  
And to the General, ten fine Cheeses bear,  
Such in the Camp are not found every where.  
And if for need t' have pawned aught of esteem,  
Take money with you, and their Pledge redeem.  
David, make haste, for I desive to know  
'Twixt the two puissant hosts, how business go.   

No marvel David in his heart were glad,  
That he such cause to view the Armies had:  
From his brave thoughts, and to himself he told,  
The wondrous things that he should there behold.  
The rare Devices by great Captains worn,  
The five-fald Plumes their Helmets that adorn.  
Armours with stones, and curious studs enriched,  
And in what state they their Pavilions pitched,  
There should he see their marshalling a war,  
The iron-bound Chariot, and the armed Car:  
As where consisted either army's force,  
Which had advantage by their foot or horse:  
The several weapons either nation bear,  
The long Sword, Bow, the Pole-axe and the Spear:  
There the Philistian gallantry, and then  
His Israel's bravery answering them again:  
And hear them tell th' adventures had been done,  
As what brave man had greatest honour won.   

David bestirs him presently, and packs  
Up his provision, puts it into sacks,  
And by his Servant on his Mule doth say,  
Then towards Saul's Army takes the ready way.  
And his no tediousiourney so contrives,  
That in short time he at the Camp arrives:  
And at his coming; instantly bestows  
His needful provant, to the charge of those  
That tend the Carriage, and of them doth learn  
(As near as he could make them to discern  
By his description) Ishas Sons, who led,  
And in the Army where they quartered:  
By whose direction he his Brothers sought,  
And told them what provision he had brought:  
And to all three, their Father's pleasure showed,  
And how the Cheeses he would have bestowed.  
As they were talking, suddenly a noise  
Ran through the Army, and the general voice,  
Was the Philistian, the Philistian see,  
〈◊〉 comes, ordained our scourge to be.  
Who as his used manner was, defies  
The host of Israel, and thus loudly cries,  
Bring down your Champion, that with me dares fight,  
And this our war shall be decided straight:  
But Israel's God, for fear draws back his hand,  
Nor is there one against me that dare stand.   

Which David hearing, his young blood doth rise,  
And fire was seen to sparkle from his eyes:  
His spirits begin to startle, and his rage  
Admits no reason that may it assuage:  
No nerve of his, but to itself doth take  
A double strength, as though his arm could shake  
The Iron Lance that great Goliath bears:  
And beat his brazen Shield about his ears.  
His struggling thoughts now being set a work,  
Awake that flame, which lately seemed to lurk  
In his meek breast, which into passion breaks,  
And to himself thus Princely David speaks.   

Despised nation, Israel quoth he,  
Where be those valiant men that lived in thee,  
What are our souls in lesser moulds now cast,  
Then at the first, with time or do they waste?  
What slaved people, but we can stand by,  
And hear this base Philistian Dog defy  
God and his people, must he stand to boast  
His strength and valour, and in all the host  
No man dare undertake him; might I prove  
My Manhood on him, I should so one remove  
The world's opinion, and both hosts should know  
he's but a Dog, on us that raileth so:  
And to one standing near him, thus he spoke,  
Of this huge Beast, what wonder do ye make:  
What shall be done to that one man that shall  
Fight with this Giant, and before ye all,  
His pride and horrid blasphemies shall quell,  
And take this shame away from Israel?  
When one that heard him, quickly thus replies,  
He by whose hand this huge Goliath dies,  
For Wise to him, Saul's Daughter shall be given,  
One of the goodliest Creatures under heaven;  
And yet this surther, his reward shall be  
His Father's house in Israel shall go free.   

With this yet David closeth not his ear,  
But of some other likewise doth inquire  
For his reward, the 〈◊〉 that should slay,  
The former's words, which like a lesson say,  
None of them thinking, this yet 〈◊〉 man,  
Should strike to death the proud 〈◊〉   

His Brother Eliab, now which overheard,  
Young David's questions, and was much afeard  
His overdaring spirit might draw him on,  
To work their shame, and his consusion:  
Thinks with himself, it greatly him behoves,  
To check his boldness, and him thus reproves.  
Fond Boy, quoth he, why standest thou to inquire  
After these things, thy business lies not here:  
I would not (sure) but you the Camp should view,  
A Sheepcoat Sir, would better suit with you:  
Who have you left, after your Flock to look,  
Your Scrip (no question) or your shepherd's Crook.  
Sirrah, my Father sent you not to us,  
About the Army to lie loitering thus:  
I thinke'tis time to get you on your way,  
Our Father thinks that we enforce your stay.   

At Eliabs' speeches, David somewhat moaned  
To hear himself thus scornfully reproved:  
Brother quoth he, few words might have sufficed,  
Had you but known how lightly they are prized  
Of me, these speeches you would have forborn,  
Upon some other and have spent your scorn.  
I come to view the Camp, you say, 'tis so,  
And I will view it better ere I go.  
Why may not I, as well as other men,  
I'll go when I shall please, and not till then?  
When time may me more liberty allow,  
I may bear Arms perhaps as you do now:  
Look to your warfare, and what is your own,  
Good Brother Eliab, and let me alone:  
For of myself I know how to dispose,  
And thus away resolved David goes.  
And as he went, still as he hears the cry  
After Goliath, still more high and high,  
His spirit is mounted, and his oft demand,  
What his reward should be, whose valiant hand  
Should kill Goliath, through the Army went,  
And was the common talk in every Tent,  
(But in the most bred sundry doubts and fears.  
When as they weighed his tenderness of years)  
Until his Fame, by going, getting strength  
In Saul's Pavilion is cried up at length:  
Who with much speed, sent out to have him sought,  
And to his presence caused him to be brought.  
Who with a constant and delightful cheer,  
Comes to the King, and doth to him appear  
With such a sprightful, and majestic grace,  
As victory were written in his face:  
And being by Saul, demanded if 'twere he,  
That Israel's Champion undertook to be;  
He with a meek smile, boldly doth reply,  
I am the man my Sovereign, 'tis even I:  
My Liege quoth he, be not at all dismayed,  
Nor let Gods chosen Israel be afraid.  
This mighty Monster in the people's sight,  
So terrible, whose shape doth so affright  
The multitude, I do no more esteem,  
Then if a Dwarf, nor he to me doth seem  
But such a thing, my only envy's's this.  
That he is not much greater than he is.  
The more his strength, the more his fall will be,  
And Israel's God more glorified in me.   

Quoth Saul again, thou art of tender age,  
And in respect of him a very Page;  
Beside, the other Arms that he doth bear,  
Thou art not able to lift half his Spear:  
If he strike at thee, and thy body miss,  
Yet on his side, there this advantage is,  
The wind of his huge weapon hath the force  
To drive the breath out of thy slender Coarse:  
And this vast man, beside his wondrous might,  
No man as he, so skilful is in fight;  
Expert in all, to Duels that belong,  
Trained up in Arms whilst yet he was but young.   

The better, answered David, if his skill  
Equal his strength, for what is it to kill  
A common man? a common thing it were,  
Which happeneth every day, and every where;  
But for a Giant such a one as he,  
Upon the Field to be subdued by me,  
This to all Nations shall be thought a thing  
Worthy of Israel's God, and Israel's King.  
I have slain a Lion and Bear, quoth he,  
And what is this uncircumcised to me  
More than a Beast. That only God of might  
By whose great power I conquered these in fight.  
In spite of humane strength and greatness, can  
Give to my hands this proud Philistian.   

When Saul thus sees that there was in his soul  
That courage which no danger could control,  
A valour so invincible and high,  
As naturally enabled him to fly  
Above all thought of peril, and to bear  
Him quite away beyond the bounds of fear;  
He caused an Armour for him to be brought,  
But first of all a garment richly wrought  
He puts upon the brave youth and then bad  
That in those goodly Arms he should be clad  
Which put upon him as to stir he strives,  
He thinks himself in 〈◊〉 and Gives,  
Their ponderousness him to the earth doth press  
These Arms do make his Activeness far less  
For he before had not been used to these,  
Nor him at all their boistrousnesse can please,  
His Gorget galled his Neck, his Ghinne beneath,  
And most extremely hindered him to breath.  
His Curates sit too close upon his side,  
He in no hand his Helmet can abide,  
It is so heavy, and his Temples wrings,  
His Pouldrons pinch him, and be cumbrous things,  
His Gauntlets clumsit, and do wring his Wrists,  
And be so stiff he cannot clutch his Fists;  
His Guises they so strong and stubb orne be,  
That for his life he cannot bend his knee;  
He knew not how to bear his brazen Shield,  
Such weapons Shepherds were not used to wield,  
Their weight and their unwildinesse was such,  
And they restrained his nimbleness so much,  
That he prayed Saul of these he might be freed,  
It is not Armour that must do the deed,  
Let me alone, saith he, and I'll provide  
Myself of Arms, this quarrel to decide.   

When forth he goes, shot for his Sling to look,  
And near the Camp he finds a perling Brook,  
Whose shallow sides with Pebbles did abound,  
Where seeking such as massy were and round,  
He picks out five, away with him to bring,  
Such as he knew would fit his trusty Sling,  
And in his Scrip them closely doth bestow,  
By which he vows Goliabs' overthrow.   

When swift report throughout the Army runs,  
That youthful David one of Ishaes' sons,  
A very 〈◊〉 and the youngest of eight,  
With the Philistian was that day to fight;  
That great Goliath which so oft had braved  
Dejected Israel, and the combat craved  
With any one she to the field could bring,  
Now for it was so pertinent a thing,  
As that their freedom or subjection lay  
On the success of this unequal Fray,  
Th'event thereof struck every one with fcare,  
But his sad brethren most perplexed were,  
And to themselves thus say they: O that we  
So long should draw our loathed breath, to see  
That by the pride of this accursed Boy,  
Despised Israel should no more enjoy  
Her ancientglories, but be made a slave  
To proud Philistia; and our father's grave  
Slandered by him; his Family and Name  
Branded by David with perpetual shame.  
Cursed be the time that he was hither sent,  
Cursed be the time he came into our Tent.  
And now and then they purposed to fly,  
Nor would they stay to see their brother dye,  
But at the very point to take their way,  
Bethink themselves, it better were to stay,  
To seek his scattered limbs to pieces hewed,  
And see them in some obscure earth 〈◊〉   

In this sad manner whilst they murmuring were,  
David is busied listening still to hear  
Of great Goliath: scarce can he refrain  
From calling for him; now in every vain  
His blood is dancing, and a sprightly fire  
Takes up his bosom, which doth him inspire  
With more than humane courage, nor he can  
Conceive a terror to proceed from man,  
His nerves and sinews to that vigour grow,  
As that his strength assures him he can throw  
Through thicker Arms, then mortal yet could wield.  
Upon the sudden, when through all the field  
The word was heard, Goliath now appears,  
Which David's heart in such strange manner cheers,  
As that he feels it caper in his breast.  
When soon that huge uncircumcised beast,  
As he was wont, between the hosts doth come,  
And with his harsh voice, like an unbraced Drum,  
Calls to the host of Israel, where's your man  
You cowardly Nation, where's your Champion  
To undertake me, bring him to the field,  
Or to Philistia your subjection yield.  
It was full Summer, and the day so clear,  
As not a little cloud did once appear;  
In view of either Army, the free Sun  
That towards the noonsted half his course had run,  
On the Philistian darting his clear rays,  
His bright resulgent Arms so sundry ways  
Reflects the bcames, as that he seems to all  
Like that in painting we a Glory call,  
And from his Helmet sharpening like a Spire,  
He looked like to a Pyramid on fire.   

And now before young David should come in,  
The host of Israel somewhat doth begin  
To rouse itself; some climb the nearest Tree,  
And some the tops of Tents, whence they might see  
How this unarmed Youth himself would bear  
Against th'all-armed Giant (which they fear)  
Some get up to the fronts of easy hills;  
That by their motion a vast murmur fills  
The neighbouring Valleys, that th'enemy thought  
Something would by the 〈◊〉 be wrought  
They had not heard of, and they longed to see  
What strange or warlike stratagemed should be.   

When soon they saw a goodly Youth descend  
Himself alone, none after to attend,  
That at his need with arms might him supply,  
As merely careless of his enemy.  
His head uncovered, and his locks of hair  
As he came on being played with by the air  
Tossed to and fro, did with such pleasuremove,  
As they had been provocatives for love:  
His sleeves stripped up above his elbows were,  
And in his hand a stiff short staff did bear,  
Which by the leather to it, and the string,  
They easily might discern to be a Sling;  
Suiting to these he wore a Shepherd's Scrip,  
Which from his side hung down upon his Hip.  
Those for a Champion that did him disdain,  
Cast with themselves what such a thing should mean,  
Some seeing him so wondrously fair,  
(As in their eyes he 〈◊〉 beyond compare)  
Their verdict gave that they had sent him sure  
As a choice bait their Champion to allure;  
Others again, of judgement more precise,  
Said they had sent him for a sacrifice.  
And though he seemed thus to be very young,  
Yet was he well proportioned and strong,  
And with a comely and undaunted grace,  
Holding a steady and most even place,  
This way, nor that way, never stood to gaze,  
But like a man that death could not amaze,  
Came close up to Goliath, and so near  
As he might easily reach him with his Spear.   

Which when Goliath saw, why Boy quoth he,  
Thou despirate Youth, thou tak'st me sure to be  
Some Dog (I think) and under thy command,  
That thus art come to beat me with a wand:  
The Kites and Raucns are not far away,  
Nor Beasts of ravine that shall make a ptey  
Of a poor corpse, which they from me shall 〈◊〉  
And their soul bowels shall be all thy 〈◊〉   

Uncircumcised slave quoth David then,  
That for thy shape, the monster art of men:  
Thou thus in brass comest armed into the field,  
And thy huge Spear of brass, of brass thy Shield  
I in the name of Israel's God alone,  
That more than mighty, that eternal one,  
Am come to meet thee, who bids not to fear,  
Nor once respect the Arms that thou dost bear.  
Slave, mark the earth whereon thou now dost stand,  
I'll make thy length to measure so much land,  
As thou liest grovelling and within this hour  
The Birds and Beasts thy carcase shall devour.   

In mean time David looking in his face,  
Between his temples, saw how large a space  
He was to hit, steps back a yard or two,  
The Giant wondering what the Youth would do,  
Whose nimble hand, out of his Scrip doth bring  
A pebblestone, and puts it in his Sling,  
At which the Giant openly doth jeer,  
And as in scorn, stands leaning on his Spear,  
Which gives young David much content to see,  
And to himself thus secretly saith he.  
Stand but one minute still, stand but so fast,  
And have at all Philistia at a cast.  
When with such slight the shot away he sent,  
That from his Sling as't had been Lightning went;  
And him so full upon the forehead smit,  
Which gave a crack, when his thick scalp it hit,  
As 't'had been thrown against some Rock or Post,  
That the shrill clap was heard through either host.  
Staggering a while upon his Spear he leaned,  
Till on a sudden, he began to faint;  
When down he came, like an old o'regrowne Oak,  
His huge Root hewed up by the Labourers stroke,  
That with his very weight, he shook the ground,  
His brazen armour gave a jarring sound  
Like a cracked Bell, or vessel chanced to fall  
From some high place, which did like death appall  
The proud Philistians, (hopeless that remain)  
To see their Champion great Goliath slain:  
When such a shout the host of Israel gave,  
As cloven the clouds, and like to men that rave,  
(overcome with comfort) cry, the Boy, the Boy,  
O the brave David, Israel's only joy:  
Gods chosen Champion, O most wondrous thing,  
The great Goliath slain with a poor Sling:  
Themselves in compass nor can they contain,  
Now are they silent, than they shout again.  
Of which no notice, David seems to take,  
But towards the Body of the dead doth make;  
With a fair comely gate, nor doth he run,  
As though he gloried in what he had done.  
But treading on th' vncircumei'ed dead,  
With his foot, strikes the Helmet from his dead;  
Which with the sword, ta'en from the Gyantside,  
He from the body quickly doth divide.   

Now the Philistians at this fearful sight,  
Leaving their Arms, betake themselves to flight;  
Quitting their Tents, nor dare a minute stay,  
Time wants to carry any thing away,  
Being strongly routed with a general fear;  
Yet in pursuit, Saul's Army strikes their Rear,  
To Ekron walls, and slew them as they fled,  
That Sharams' plains lay covered with the dead:  
And having put the Philistines to foil,  
Back to the Tents retire, and take the spoil  
Of what they left, and ransacking they cry,  
A David, David, and the victory,   

When strait ways Saul, his General Abner sent  
For valiant David, that incontinent  
He should repair to Court, at whose command  
He comes along, and beareth in his hand  
The Giant's head, by th'long hair of his crown,  
Which by his active knee, hung dangling down.  
And through the Army as he comes along,  
To gaze upon him, the glad Soldier's throng:  
Some do instile him Israel's only light,  
And other some the valiant 〈◊〉  
With Coniayes all salute him as he passed,  
And upon him their gracious glances cast.  
He was thought base of him that did not boast,  
Nothing but David, David, through the host.  
The Virgins to their Timbrels frame their lays,  
Of him: till Saul grew jealous of his praise:  
But for his meed doth to his Wise receive  
Saul's lovely Daughter, where'tis time I leave.   
FINIS.