POEMS UPON Several Occasions.  
By DANIEL BAKER, M. A. Sometimes of Gonvil and Caius Coll. in CAMBRIDGE.  Virgil. Eclog. 9 
— Me quoque dicunt  
Vatem pastors; sed non ego credulus illis.  
LONDON, Printed for I. jones, at the Dolphin and Crown in S. Paul's Churchyard. 1697.   

To the Honourable Sir RALPH HARE, OF STOW-HALL IN THE County of Norfolk, BARONET; These Poems ARE Most Humbly Dedicated, BY HIS Most Obliged and most Obedient Servant,  
DAN. BAKER.   

THE CONTENTS.  
ON Mr. Abraham Cowley's Works. 
Page 1.  The Retreat. 
2  Out of Horace. Carm. Lib. 2. Od. 8. 
4  Out of Horace. Lib. 3. Od. 11. 
6  Out of Moschus one of the Minor Poets. 
10  Out of Bion. Love's Tutor. 
15  The Wife. 
17  Happiness. 
18  Laus Poetarum, ac imprimis Virgilii. 
20  Love Verses. The Fire. 
25  The Fugitive. 
28  The penitent Rebel. 
30  The White Devil. 
32  The Parting. 
34  The Ghost. 
37  The Appeal. 
39  The Masque. 
43  The Rose. 
45  A Rainy Morning. 
47  The Storm. 
48  Wisdom. 
50  Reason. 
53  Ratio. 
57  Alexis. 
61  Nisa. In imitation of the Shepherd Damon's Complaint in the Eighth Eclogue of Virgil. 
67  Out of Horace, Carm. Lib. 2. Od. 14. 
75  A Paraphrase on Psal. 128. 
80  On Mr. George Herbert's sacred Poem, called; The Temple. 
83  Death. 
89  Judith. 
97  A Poem upon Christmas-Day, in Imitation of the Fourth Eclogue of Virgil, entitled, Pollio. The Preface. 
117  Virgil Eclog. 4. 
119  Virgilius Evangelizans, etc. 
121  Hicathrift. 
135  Joseph. 
142  Amico suo D. M. F. Theoriae Burnetianae Argumentum. 
153  Amico suo dilectissimo. D. F. I. de praecedentibus Poematis. 
159    

MISCELLANIES AND Translations.  

On Mr. Abraham Cowley's WORKS.  

I.  
THE British Land in former Time  
Was thought too phlegmatic a Clime,  
Too cold for Verse to thrive and grow  
On such a heavy Soil: But now,  
Nor Greece may boast; nor Rome that she  
Surpasses her in Poetry.   

II.  
Homer and Virgil lately were,  
'Til Cowley rose, the famous Pair:  
But him they gladly now admit,  
To the Triumvirate of Wit,  
And grant, that tho' the Younger, yet  
His Praise, the Poet's Wealth's as great.   

III.  
These mighty Three so well are joined,  
'Twould pose the wisest Judge to find  
Which of them all does most excel  
In Honour's strife. But more to tell  
What happy Realm shall raise a Fourth  
To equal Fame, by equal Worth.    

The Retreat.  

I.  
PArdon me Friend, that I so soon  
Forsake this great tumultuous Town.  
And on the sudden hasten down;   

II.  
That I Preferment court no more,  
But all my Hopes and Cares give over  
While I'm Young, and while I'm Poor.   

III.  
Myself no longer I'll deprive  
Of those kind Minute's Heaven does give.  
No Man makes haste enough to live.   

IV.  
Let them stay longer who desire  
Above their Father's Wealth t'aspire,  
And raise their Names and Fortunes higher.   

V.  
That are content to cringe and bow,  
To flatter, bribe, and wait; for so  
Preferment must be bought, you know.   

VI  
Give me free Nature's solid Goods  
Open Fields, and secret Woods,  
Healthful Hills, and crystal Floods.   

VII.  
A small, but sprucely furnished House,  
A Garden for Delight and Use,  
A learned Friend, and gentle Muse.   

VIII.  
Night's full of Sleep, Days void of Strife,  
And to complete this heavenly Life,  
An humble, cheerful, country Wife.   

IX.  
Thus, oh! thus let me obscurely lie!  
Thus let my wel-spent Hours slide by!  
Thus let me live! thus let me die!    

Out of Horace. Carmin. Lib. 2. Od. 8. Ulla si juris, etc.  
IF ever this thy frequent breach of Oath  
Had punished been with one black Tooth,  
If but one Nail, or Hair of thine had been  
Less smooth or curled for thy Sin,  
I would believe the Gods above take Care  
To punish such as do forswear.  
But thou, as soon as black false Oaths thou'st sworn,  
Shinest out far brighter than before  
(Like the Sun breaking from a Cloud) and art  
The only Care of every Heart.  
It mends thy Beauty, thine own Mother's Grave  
To violate, and her Ghost deceive;  
To make the Stars of Heaven avouch thy lies,  
And even the immortal Deities.  
Venus herself laughs and her Nymphs at this  
A sport to cruel Love it is,  
Who makes thy faithless Vows serve for a Stone  
To whet his bloody Darts upon.  
Nay, all the Youth, (poor ignorant Tribe) for thee  
Grows up a new Captivity:  
Nor have we (tho' we threaten it oft) the Power,  
Old Fools! to leave thy wicked Door.  
Thee for her Sons the careful Mother fears,  
And covetous old Men for their Heir●;  
And poor young Women, lest thy powerful Charms  
Should draw their Husbands from their tender Arms.   

Out of Horace. Carm. Lib. 3. Od. 11. Mercuri, nam te, etc.  

I.  
FAir Maia's Son (for by thy learned Art  
Amphion even hard Stones did move)  
Appease the stubborn Anger of my Love,  
And move her harder Heart.   

II.  
And thou, my Music which in former Years  
Waste a poor dumb neglected thing;  
But now in Churches, and at Feasts dost Sing,  
Charm, charm her sullen Ears.   

II.  
Who, like a Filly in the flowery Mead,  
Runs up and down, and won't be caught,  
Unripe for Marri'ge yet, she want be brought  
Unto the genial Bed.   

IV.  
Swift Tigers thou, and Woods canst draw along,  
And rolling Rivers canst recall:  
The Surly Porter of the infernal Hall  
Submitted to thy Song;   

V.  
Even Cerberus, though about his monstrous Head  
An Hundred Hellish Serpents crawl  
And from his Triple Mouth black Foams does fall,  
And poisonous Breath is shed.   

VI  
Thou mad'st Ixion against his Will to smile,  
And Tityus laugh amidst his Pains,  
While Danau's Daughters listened to thy Strains,  
Their Tubs stood dry a while.   

VII.  
O tell my Love what cruel Pains attend,  
Hardhearted Maids in Hell:  
Bid her by what these wicked Maids befell,  
Take warning and amend.   

VIII.  
O wicked Maids! what more can hellish spite  
Than Women do? with bloody Knives  
They ripped their Bridegroom's Breasts, and spilt their Lives  
Upon the Wedding Night.   

IX.  
But one of Fifty with a virtuous Life  
Her perjured Father durst deceive:  
Worthy to be a Bride! her Fame shall live  
Till Time itself shall die.   

X.  
Arise, she said, my gentle Love, arise,  
And go, lest everlasting Night  
Surprise thee here: avoid my Father's sight,  
And wicked Sister's Eyes.   

XI.  
Who now as hungry Lionesses, now  
Like tender Lambs their Husband's tear:  
But I, more merciful than they, will spare,  
Thy Life, and let thee go.   

XII.  
Me let my Father load with cruel Bands  
Because I spared my gentle Spouse.  
Me let him banish ever from his House  
Into the furthest Lands.   

XIII.  
Go, where thy Feet or Wind shall carry thee,  
While Venus' Favours and the Night:  
Live happy thou, and on my Tomb stone write  
That thou wast saved by me.    

Out of MOSCHUS one of the Minor Poets. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or Cupid run away.  

CVpid was lost, and all about  
His Mother ran to seek him out.  
Through Town and Field, through Earth and Skies,  
Through young Men's Hearts, and Maidens Eyes,  
O'er Sea and Land, drawn with a Pair  
Of Milk-white Doves she cut the Air,  
But after many a Mile she'd passed  
Her little Steeds grew tired at last:  
Then seeing she could no where spy him  
She stood, and thus began to cry him.   

O Yes! Whoever can descry  
The Place where Love concealed does lie,  
Let him repair to me and take  
A soft Kiss for his Tidings sake:  
But he that brings him home shall meet  
A Kiss, and something else more sweet.  
Yet first, lest haply he deceive you,  
Take these Marks which I will give you,  
Marks which easily will show him,  
Amongst a Thousand you may know him.   

His Skin, like Blushes which adorn  
The Bosom of the rising Morn,  
All over Ruddle is, and from  
His flaming Eyes quick glances come.  
His Meaning's Roguish, but his Tongue  
He handles well, 'tis sweetly hung.  
His Words you never once shall find  
The genu'ine Picture of his Mind.  
His Voice like Honey drops, but when  
He's angry, O be wary; then  
He's false and fell, and Pleasure takes  
In the Miseries he makes.  
Fair Curls his golden Temple's grace;  
A wanton Air sets off his Face.  
His Hands are very small: but, oh!  
The Distance they his Arrows throw!  
Even Hell itself, and its stern Lord  
Have felt their Force, and loudly roared.  
His Body's naked, as if he  
Delighted in simplicity:  
But, oh! his Soul, that clothed is  
With manifold Hypocrisies.  
He neither Age, nor Sex will spare,  
But shoots his Arrows every where.  
And like a wanton Bird, he flies,  
And hovers o'er you, till he spies  
A way to dart into your Breast,  
And in your Liver build his Nest.  
Upon his Shoulder you may spy  
A golden Quiver; in it lie  
His winged Shafts, which often make  
High Heaven and mighty jove to quake.  
Nor God, nor Mortal can withstand  
The Force of his resistless Hand.  
As Death, impartial, none are free  
From his wide-wasting Tyranny.  
Kings and Swains do all adore him:  
Queens and Milk maids fall before him:  
He pities neither one nor other;  
No, not me, his one dear Mother.  
His little Torch to Heaven will fly  
And make old Phoebus burn and fry  
In Flames more hot by far than those  
He on the scorched AEthiop throws.   

Such is my Son. Whoever shall find him  
Let him catch him, let him bind him,  
And render to my hands the Prize,  
And if from his dissembling Eyes  
The Tears do trickle, do not spare him;  
Tho he flatter do not hear him  
Whether he sigh, or smile, or pray,  
Bring him ne'ertheless away.  
If a Kiss he offer to you,  
O, beware; it will undo you.  
His Lips are Poison, and his Breath  
Scatter Plagues far worse than Death.  
But if he, to let him go,  
Offer you his Shafts and Bow,  
O! touch them not: the Gifts of Love  
Will like Fire, destructive prove.    

Out of BION. Love's Tutor.  

AS underdeath an Oak one Day  
Free from unpeaceful Thoughts I lay  
A gentle Slumber o'er my head  
His downy Wing had softly spread:  
When lo! before me seemed to stand  
Bright Beauty's Queen, and in her hand  
Her little winged Son she had;  
A peevish, proud, unhappy Lad  
He is, tho' then h'appeared mild,  
And humble as a sucking Child.   

Dear Shepherd, I commend to thee  
My Son: pray take him home (said she)  
And teach him Poetry, for well  
I know, thou dost therein excel:  
Nor shalt thou unrewarded go,  
If Venus can rewards bestow.   

This said, away she went, and I  
(Proud of the Office) by and by  
Took my young Scholar, and began  
To teach the wanton Wag to scan  
A Verse upon his Fingers: but,  
The D— a dram would Cupid do't.  
No; He began to sing to me  
Songs of Love and Jollity,  
Songs of God's and Mortal's Pleasures,  
And t'unfold his Mother's Treasures.   

Soon, alas! soon I forgot  
All that the Youth I meant t' have taught.  
But his wicked Ballads out  
Of my Mind I ne'er could put,  
Nor ever since my lips could move  
To sing of any thing but Love.    

The WIFE.  

LEt me but have a Wife what e'er she be  
So she be Woman, 'tis enough for me:  
I ask not one in whom all Graces shine,  
Her Sex alone endears her to be mine.  
If she be young, she is not stubborn grown,  
And I may form her Manners to my own:  
If old, a Wife and Mother both I have,  
And either may a Kiss or Blessing crave.  
If she be fair, she's lovely as the Light:  
If ugly, why? what's matter in the Night?  
If she be barren, I am free from Care:  
If Fruitful, Children costly Blessings are.  
If Poor, she'll Humble, and Obedient be:  
If Rich, O! who'd fear golden Slavery?  
If Scold she be, she'll teach me Patience:  
If Sluttish, I may Temperance learn from thence.  
If full of Tongue, I shan't want Company:  
If mute I'll love her for the Rarity.  
I'm Lord and Master, if she be a Fool:  
If wife, I shall be so to let her rule.   

Unjust are they who against the Sex declaim,  
When 'tis not they, but we deserve the blame.  
They all are good enough, had we but Skill  
The Good in them to take, and leave the iii.  
That Wives and Husbands Humours seldom meet,  
'Tis not 'cause they want Goodness, but these, Wit.    

Happiness.  

I.  
WOuld you, my Friend, true Happiness obtain  
I'll tell you how that Treasure you may gain,  
Not Wealth, nor Wit, nor Wine, nor Women can  
Bring solid Comfort to the Mind of Man:  
But Wisdom, Virtue, Truth and Innocence,  
With their Rewards, the Storehouse are, from whence  
This rare and precious Gift the Almighty doth dispense.   

II.  
True Mirth and Peace to visit will not deign  
The gilded Roofs, where wicked Tyrants reign:  
But love t'inhabit in the meanest Cell,  
Where innocent and humble Souls do dwell.  
Saul's restless Heart with jealous rage did fret,  
While David fed his flock secure, and set  
Such Hymns to's sacred Harp, as Angels still repeat.   

III  
Not Beds of Down sound sleep to him can bring  
Whom anxious Thoughts, or sinful Terrors sting.  
Seek not, if quiet slumbers you would find,  
To have your Limbs lie easy, but your mind:  
Whose Head is free from Care, from Gild whole Breast,  
That Man upon a Stone may softly rest.  
So jacob sleeping was with Heavenly Visions blest.    

Laus POETARUM, ac in primis VIRGIL II.  

ITe procul, Medici, Vanissima turba; recedant  
Pharmaca, docta magis Nummo purgare Crumenam  
Quam Languore Animum: Qui fallitur arte Galeni  
Dignus morte perit. Vos, ô medicina salubris,  
Libri cum Musis properate, meosque tumultus  
Dulcibus alloquiis mulcete, & pellite curas.   

Tuque Maro, Vatum pulcherrime, tuque Britannae  
Non impar venias, Coulaei, gloria Gentis.  
Post illos, avidas numerosus Horatius aures,  
Necnon marmoreis meditans Lucanus in hortis,  
Detineat, ve●suque placens Juvenalis acerbo.  
Accedat laetam fecit qui Statius Urbem,  
Felicique fluents non felix Carmine Naso.  
Illustres Animae! vobis mea vulnera credo:  
Vos animi morbos, curisque ingentibus aegros  
Doctiùs & meliùs sanare Machaone nôstis.   

Quis, divine Maro, tua Carmina docta legendo  
(Carmina quae dignè Diuûm referantur ad aures)  
Vel meminisse potest, vel non contemnere curas?  
Phoenissaes quoties Furias Phrygiive Labores  
Volvo Ducis, animo Dolor exulat omnis, & aequè  
Cum Sociis Regum felix, ac Regibus, aevum  
Exigo. Delicias tales aequare nec ulla  
Vina queunt, Juvenum nec splendida Cura, Puellae;  
Solaque Coelicolûm magis est optanda Voluptas.     


CERTAIN COPIES OF Love-Verses.  VIRGIL. Eclog. 10. 
— Tanquam haec sit nostri medicina Furoris  
Aut Deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat.   

Love-Verses.  
The FIRE.  

I.  
A Little house I had (a Heart I mean)  
Well furnished by my Mother's early Care  
With holy Principles, chaste Thoughts and clean,  
Good Purposes, modest Desires, and fair:  
In all the House no room to spare;  
In all the precious Goods no Spot was to be seen.   

II.  
But, ah! nor House, nor Goods can be secure  
From Fire, one day before her Eyes I came;  
My tender Heart not able to endure  
The subtle Lightning, catched a sudden Flame,  
Which burned down all the little Frame:  
Hardly escaped, with hurt, the goodly Furniture.   

III.  
Forthwith I ran, and called in all the aid  
I could, to quench the Fire: but all in vain  
Then I applied myself to her, and prayed  
For Pity to those Eyes that gave the Pain:  
She entertained me with Disdain,  
And (Nero like) laughed at the Flames herself had made.   

IV.  
The Law (they say) will force her to make good  
The Damages, whereof she was the cause:  
Sometimes I threaten in an angry Mood  
To try; but sober Counsels bid me pause:  
For Beauty is above the Laws;  
'Twill blind the Judge's Eyes, and fire their aged Blood.   

V.  
Oh! what a wretch was I to come so near?  
Alas! I thought it but a Lambent Flame,  
Such as once played about Ascanius' Hair,  
And gently licked his Head, and did proclaim.  
His future Majesty and Fame;  
Or like the fancied Orb of Fire above the Air.   

VI  
Well, in the Ashes yet, I've Wisdom found  
And this Mishap shall teach me watchful Care:  
The Man that can prevent a Second Wound  
Is wise. But ah! what boots it to beware?  
A Second Fire what need he fear  
Whose House was by the First burned down quite to the ground?    

The Fugitive.  

I.  
HAving received home my Heart at last  
I'll keep thee now, said I,  
Thou never more from me shalt fly:  
With that, strong gates before my Breast I placed,  
And with firm Resolutions barred them fast.   

II.  
Thus fenced and fortified secure I lay:  
But, oh! the mighty Samson Love  
(Against whose Power in vain I strove)  
Carried the Gates, and Posts, and Bars away,  
And made room for my enlarged Heart to stray.   

III.  
Away it flew, swift as some heavenly Mind:  
Come back, thou Fool, return again,  
Return, I cried, but all in vain.  
My fruitless Words were carried with the Wind,  
It flew away, and never looked behind.   

IV.  
Well, go thy way, since I but vainly try  
To keep thee, go, and if thou find  
Her Heart inclining to be kind,  
Return, and tell me: But if still she fly,  
Follow'er, and either overtake, or die.   

V.  
For if thou come without her, I no more  
Rebellious Heart, will pardon thee,  
For thus unkindly leaving me:  
I'll vex thee, and torment thee every hour,  
And plague thee worse than she has done before.    

The Penitent Rebel.  

I.  
BY the fond Counsel of my Friends misled  
I banished Love out of my Breast;  
Now surely I shall be at rest  
(Said I) now Love the covetous Tyrant's fled,  
Who all my Thoughts and precious Minutes challenged.   

II.  
But ah! no sooner was his Majesty,  
Which kept the inferior Passions tame,  
Withdrawn, but in they rudely came,  
Pride, Avarice, Envy, Rage and Cruelty,  
With undetermined Lust that flies at every she.   

III.  
And now these Monsters in my Face do fly,  
They tear my very Soul and part  
Amongst them my divided Heart:  
Thus have I changed Love's gentle Monarchy  
Into a Commonwealth of lawless Tyranny.   

IV.  
So England in an unauspicious hour  
Against her indulgent Prince arose,  
His Golden Sceptre to oppose:  
She murdered him, but fell into the Power  
Of Cromwell, and an Host of armed Villains more.   

V.  
What Fools were they to think they'd killed the King  
Who never dies? His Royal Son  
Returned with Honour to his Throne:  
Now free from Wars and Fears we sit and sing  
Under the peaceful Shadow of mild Charles' Wing.   

VI  
Return thou too, dread sovereign Love, and save  
My poor distracted Heart which lies  
A Prey to cruel Enemies;  
My Heart, which mutinous Follies rendered have  
To a long Parliament of sordid Lusts a Slave.   

VII.  
Taught by the sad Experience of these wrongs,  
Thy Laws for ever I'll obey,  
And all thy Tributes duly pay:  
I'll give whatever to thy Crown belongs,  
Gales of fresh Sighs, Floods of salt Tears, and mournful Songs.    

The White Devil.  

FOr Wit and Beauty she may vie  
With any mortal Brain, or Face:  
But, ah! where's noble Virtue? where shall I  
Thy venerable Footsteps trace?  
Come. Queen of Graces, to thy beauteous Throne,  
And let not Sin usurp what ought to be thine own.   

Without this, t'other must not heal  
Thy wound; then cease, and love no more;  
Who courts a Woman that is fair, but ill,  
A painted Devil doth adore.  
When Satan like an Angel doth appear  
Weak Mortals to delude, than he resembles her.   

III.  
Hellish her Soul, her Face Divine;  
This charms, the other doth affright:  
Light shines without, but Darkness dwells within,  
She's like a Black-moor clad in White.  
My Mind can never rest, unless she were  
Made by some skilful Hand more Virtuous or less Fair.    

The Parting.  

I.  
AS virtuous Souls when they depart away,  
And leave their loved Bodies here alone,  
In Rest abide, until the joyful day  
Appointed for their Resurrection:   

II.  
So now we're parting, let us make no noise,  
Nor beat the empty Air with fruitless cries,  
Let us not make our cruel Foes rejoice  
T' have grieved our Heart, as well as vexed our Eyes.   

III.  
Those Earth born Souls, whose chiefest Good is Sense,  
Whose Joys are dirty, and their Love obscene,  
Lament and howl when they are hurried hence,  
Because those Pleasures ne'er return again.   

IV.  
But we whose Love so spotless is and fine,  
Like that which Angels to each other bear,  
Shall much disgrace our Souls, if we repine,  
And murmur when our Bodies absent are.   

V.  
Speak, O ye Nymphs, that in cool Streams delight,  
For on your flowery Banks we used to lie,  
When did we e'er offend you with a sight  
That made you blush, or turn away your Eye?   

VI  
Speak, O ye shady Woods, for every Night  
Before you all our Thoughts we used to spread,  
When did you ever hear a Word so light  
As made you frown, or shake your reverend Head?   

VII.  
Daphne the coy, who thought no Love between  
A different Sex could ever virtuous be,  
Then whispered thus to me, Had Phoebus been  
As chaste as thou, I ne'er had been a Tree.   

VIII.  
Be this thy Comfort, Dear, tho' I be gone  
Do not thyself a fruitless Sorrow give;  
Nor like those wretched desperate Creatures moan,  
Whose former Sins all future Hopes bereave.   

IX.  
In th'evening, tho' the Sun withdraw his Light,  
Yet still his active Heat and influence stay,  
The odorous Herbs and tender Plants all Night  
Shoot up and grow as well as in the day:   

X.  
So even upon thy absent Love I'll feast,  
Thy vital Memory shall nourish me,  
Until I see thy Beams arise in th'East  
Glorious and joyful: This, my Dear, shall be;   

XI.  
It shall. And none my saying can disprove,  
The great oraculous Truth none can deny:  
For Heaven is just, and cannot let a Love  
So pure, so like itself uncrowned die.    

The Ghost.  

I.  
LO! to thee in this silent Sheet  
Appears the Ghost of thy departed Lover:  
Dear, do not any fear discover,  
The harmless Spirit thou may'st with safety meet.  
It only loves to walk and wander nigh  
The happy Place, where its dear Treasures hiddenlie.   

II.  
Let that false glozing Hypocrite,  
That basely did our secret Love disclose  
And all our Happiness oppose,  
Grow pale, and tremble, when she sees the Spirit:  
But I'll not visit her; the guilty Hag  
Is haunted by herself, and needs no other Plague.   

III.  
How welcome did the Day arise  
When I with thee, my Dear, might freely walk,  
And unsuspected talk;  
Then when we feared no watchful Ears nor Eyes,  
When careless and secure we reaped the Blisses  
Of chaste Embraces, and Ten Thousand harmless Kisses!   

IV.  
She, sure, Love's Force has never known  
That could so cruelly divide us Two,  
O may she burn to purpose now,  
Till she's so black, and dry, and blistered grown,  
That none may venture when she's scorched thus,  
To quench her flaming Lust, but some foul Incubus!   

V.  
Well, since our mortal Life is gone,  
And Separation is become our state,  
Let us with Hope and Patience wait  
Till we be raised anew, and joined in one:  
Then will our Bliss my dear, more full arise,  
And then we'll feast upon more ripe and perfect Joys.    

The Appeal.  

I.  
UPon a flowery Bed  
Beneath a Willow's pleasant shade,  
Beside a crystal Flood his Lovesick Head  
The melancholy Baker laid:  
Three Times he sighed with such a violent Force,  
As moved the very Willows with remorse;  
The Nymphs together flocked to hear his Moans,  
And Echo from the neighbouring Hills answered his Groans.   

II.  
Tell me, ye Nymphs, (said he)  
So may you once so happy be  
A Nymph much brighter than yourselves to see,  
Sat talking here with me,  
If e'er this reverend Stream from you should slide,  
Or underneath the Ground his Current hide,  
Would you not solitary sit on Shore,  
And sadly wail the Pleasures ye enjoyed before?   

III.  
Tell me, thou pleasant Shade,  
So may your Greenness never fade,  
But be for her fair Head an Arbour made,  
Beneath you in my Bosom laid,  
When e'er from you the Sun doth backward haste,  
And on your Heads his Beams but faintly cast,  
Do ye not quickly lose your thick, green Hair,  
And stand exposed to Winds, all withered and all bare?   

IV.  
Tell me, thou crystal Wave,  
So may thy Stream her Body lave,  
And from her Limbs a richer Tincture have,  
Than e'er the golden River gave,  
If e'er thy fruitful Fountain should decay,  
Or in bad humour turn another way,  
Would not thy Channel grow all chapt and dry,  
And all thy nimble, scaly People gasp and die?   

V.  
Tell me, ye Flowers gay,  
So may your Sweetness with you stay,  
Till her fair Hand shall pluck you hence away,  
And in her sweeter Bosom lay,  
If e'er the sullen heavens should refuse  
To shed on you their soft refreshing Dews,  
Would not your Scent and Colour soon decay,  
And you that are so fresh and young, grow old and grey?   

VI  
Tell me thou hollow Sound,  
So may each Plain and Hill around  
With Repetitions of her Name resound,  
Till all Voices else be drowned,  
Should no sad Lover to these Banks resort,  
And with his tuneful Music make thee Sport,  
Wouldst thou not melancholy sit alone,  
And with dumb Wail thy sad Solitude bemoan?   

VII.  
Then marvel not that I  
Decline all tedious Company,  
And to these solitary Places fly,  
And sit and sigh, and weep, and die;  
Since I have lost what was to me more dear  
Than to you, All that I have mentioned here,  
My Spring, my Shade, my Music, and my Sun,  
The Pleasure of my Heart, and my Life's Soul is gone.    

The Masque.  

I.  
INgrateful and malicious Maid,  
A Veil of Darkness thou hast thrown  
Over that Beauty which displayed  
Thy Maker's Glory not thine own.   

II.  
What spleenful Avarice is this,  
To hoard that Treasure, which before  
Filled all the World with Light and Bliss,  
Yet wasted not the boundless Store?   

III.  
Dear Niggard, imitate the Sun,  
(The Sun, thy sit similitude)  
He shines not to himself alone,  
But for the public Joy and Good.   

IV.  
Remove the Cloud, that from thine Eyes  
Mankind may Light and Comfort take:  
Or if our Service thou despise,  
Yet do it for thine own Name's sake.   

V.  
Thy Face will lose its sovereign Praise  
By this obscure Retreat of thine:  
Behold! Since thou hast hid thy Rays,  
How proudly meaner Beauties shine!   

VI  
Arise my Love, and make them know  
They owe their Lustre to thy Night,  
The Stars grow dull, and make no show,  
When once the Sun appears in sight.   

VII.  
Since that which made the Day so clear  
The Sun shine of thine Eyes is fled,  
Let Night (Love's wished Hour) my Dear,  
Softly conduct us both to Bed.    

The Rose.  

I.  
SEest thou this Flower my Dear, how fair it shows  
Opening its balmy Bosom, to receive  
The lusty Morning-beams? A brisker Risen  
No Place, except thy youthful Cheek can give.   

II.  
The Sun, who in Aurora's purple Arms,  
This Morning lay, yet early left his Bed  
Drawn by this Rose's more inviting Charms,  
T'unlock the Treasures of a sweeter Red.   

III.  
See how it smiles; and yet e'er Day pass by  
(This very Day which gave it first a Birth)  
'T will hang its fainting Head, grow pale and die,  
And shed its falling Honours on the Earth:   

V.  
And this thy Beauty's Emblem is, which now  
In Youth's fair Morning looks so fresh and gay;  
But, ah! too short a Time the Fates allow;  
Too soon comes Evening and it fades away.   

V.  
Since than your Reign such narrow limits bind,  
Take Counsel of thy Fellow-flow'r, my Dear,  
Which when it falleth, leaves a Seed behind,  
Of all its Glories the undoubted Heir:  
And by this Art, tho' in itself it die,  
Lives ever in its hopeful Race and fair Posterity.    

A Rainy Morning.  

I.  
MY Friend, persuade me not to stay,  
When Love and Beauty calls away:  
Let him be wretched, whom the Rain  
Can from his Happiness detain.   

II.  
Give me the gallant Youth whose Breast  
Was by the Sestian Maid possessed!  
He scorned the Sea's Rage, and shall I  
Regard the Droppings of the Sky?   

III.  
Let all the wat'ry Powers combine,  
And in a League offensive join,  
Yet their confederate Force shall prove  
The easy Conquest of my Love.   

IV.  
Let Heaven its secret Stores unlock,  
Let Earth produce her hoarded Stock,  
Let every Lake and River creep,  
To join the Ocean's foamy Deep.   

V  
My Love, like that Celestial Flame  
Which on the Prophet's Offering came,  
Upon these Troops will boldly fall,  
And make but one Carouse (her Health) of all.    

The Storm.  

I.  
'TIS just, my Dear, that our Amour  
Should by this sudden Storm be crossed:  
Our Bark too soon would gain the Shore,  
Were she not back to Seaward tossed.  
A Prize so rich, it were unfit to get,  
Without exceeding Peril, Pains and Sweat.   

II.  
The Joys, which else too strong might prove  
For us to bear, are tempered well  
With Sorrow thus, by gentle Love,  
To make them more supportable;  
So Bacchus' Rage with Water is allayed,  
And Sol's hot Beams are chastened with a Shade.   

III.  
No Tempest useth to adorn  
The Nuptials of the vulgar sort;  
Those Fortune passeth by in Scorn,  
They lie beneath her haughty Sport:  
But high Desires she loves to vex, that so  
Delays and Fears may make them Dearer grow.   

IV.  
He were unwise that would not go  
To Heaven through hardest Sufferings:  
And certainly, my fair One (tho'  
The odds be great) of earthly things  
None more resemble the Delights above  
Than the chaste Pleasures of a mutual Love.   

V.  
Let not this Change then trouble thee,  
As if some ill it did portend;  
The Way, tho' rough and sharp it be,  
Will lead us safely in the end  
Into each others Arms, where linked fast,  
How light will seem to us all Labours past.    

Wisdom.  

I.  
BE Wise d'ye say, I scorn that Word:  
Love's Politics no such Rule afford,  
For Love and Wisdom never yet,  
Believe me, in one Subject met,  
It cannot be, not mighty jove  
Can be at once, Wise, and in Love.   

II.  
The boldest Painter never dared  
Draw Love with either Eyes or Beard,  
For these are Wisdom's Signs; but he  
Delights in plain Simplicity.  
Blindness and Childhood best express  
His open-hearted Heedlessness.   

III.  
Let them be wise that rule the State,  
And calculate the Kingdom's Fate,  
Grave Counsellors, and Judges sage,  
Philosophers and Men of Age;  
The Serpent's Wisdom let them use,  
We the Dove's Innocence will choose.   

IV.  
Wisdom to them perhaps may be  
Of Use: but not to thee and me,  
'Twill vex our Minds and fill us full  
Of Doubts, and make our Pleasures dull.  
Away with't: in the Mysteries  
Of Love, 'tis Folly to be wise.   

V.  
Ah! Dear, Thou dost not see the end  
To which such evil Counsels tend.  
Consider what it is you speak;  
If this Advice Men once should take,  
Your Empire's Ruin it would prove.  
No wise Man ever was in Love.   

VI  
If I were Wise, I soon should find  
Th'Impertinence of Womankind:  
Neither your Favour, nor your Frown  
Would lift me up, or cast me down.  
The Influence of your starry Eyes  
Is overruled by him that's wise.   

VII.  
The deepest Mystery of State  
That makes the Pope, and Women great,  
Is Ignorance: If men were Wise,  
Both Pope, and Women they'd despise,  
And Protestants we all should prove  
Against his Religion, and your Love.    

Reason.  

REason, which long had absent been before,  
Vouchsafed one Day to come within my door.  
Affrighted at th'unusual Sight, I tried:  
To slip away, and trembling sneaked aside:  
But he laid hold upon my Gown and made  
Me stay, and hear, whilst thus he gravely said,   

Art thou a Man, who thus thyself dost cheat,  
And let blind Passion usurp Reason's Seat,  
And giv'st thy Soul up to be ruled by that  
Which neither knows how to command, nor what?  
Are Fetters grown so lovely, canst thou brook  
On thy free Neck to wear Love's Iron Yoke?  
What is this Rebel, Love, that dares control  
My Right, and claim Supremacy in th' Soul?  
Love, that enfeebles every noble Mind,  
And Subjects Man to peevish Woman kind?   

In vain, alas! thy barren Soul I've tilled,  
Scattering the Seeds of Virtue through the Field  
Wild Oats are all the Crop that Ground will yield  
Where Love takes root, in vain we plough and sow;  
'Tis such a Weed, no Corn near it will grow.  
Ah perjured Wretch, thus to abandon me,  
Whose Servant thou long since didst vow to be;  
But now my Place the Muses must supply:  
Those paltry Girls are more admired than I.   

What hast thou got by following this fond trade?  
Art thou the Richer, or the wiser made?  
Behold! how all thy Fellows do ascend,  
And to the Pulpit climb, their Journey's end;  
While thou dost preach t'a Woman, and provide,  
Homilies against Avarice and Pride.  
But all in vain: she stops her sullen ears;  
Thy Sermons she regards, just as the People, theirs.   

Thy Country and thy Friends require a share  
In that small stock of Learning, which their Care  
And Providence gave thee: But ingrateful thou  
Dost on a Woman all thy Thoughts bestow,  
And fond slighting all their just desires,  
Thou melt'st thyself away in Female Fires.   

Rise, Baker, rise: take thy neglected Arms,  
Resist Self love, and wanton Pleasure's Charms.  
Turn over the learned Volumes of the wise;  
Their great Examples set before thine Eyes  
Whom noble Virtue, and improved Wit  
Have in the Temple of bright Honour set.  
Success attends the bold. Dare to despise  
This Tyrant, Love: for when despised, he flies.   

Thus Reason said, and would have said much more,  
When suddenly we heard one open the Door,  
And, lo! she entered:  
The mighty She, and like a Goddess bright;  
Her Eyes sent forth a more than human Light.  
She charming was, her Dress I durst have sworn  
Venus herself had been her Maid that Morn.  
A Crown of palest Gold her Head did wear  
If Gold may be compared with her Hair.  
And like as Lilies in a Glass with more  
Advantage show their Whiteness, than before;  
So with more Art a fine transparent Shade  
Her snowy Neck and panting Breasts displayed.   

At her victorious Presence, Reason fell  
Like Dagon down before the Ark of Israel;  
And all his feeble Troops of Arg'ments fled:  
ay ay rose, and reverently bowed my Head,  
And Pardon begged for what had passed before,  
And by her heavenly Eyes devoutly swore.   

Bright Maid, than Life itself more dear to me,  
Confined to some dark Dungeon let me be,  
Banished for ever from thy soft Embrace,  
And from the Vision of that beauteous Face,  
If Reason's babbling Tongue again I hear,  
Or yield to any Voice, but thine, mine Ear.   

Things human, Reason, to thy Lot do fall;  
Reign, if thou wilt, for ever in that Hall:  
But soar no high'r, lest Love's diviner Light  
Confound thy mortal Eyes, and blind thee quite,    

RATIO.  

ACcessit nuper, quae multos abfuit annos  
Et nostros Ratio est dignata subire Penates  
Obstupui visu insolito, Limenque petivi:  
Illa, togam prendens, properantes sistere gressus  
Hasque aversantem voces audire coegit.   

Tune viri dignus titulo, qui stultus & amens  
Conaris proprio Rationem expellere Regno,  
Inque meo Solio furibundum ponis Amorem?  
Tantus amorne Jugi est, & tanta Cupido Catenae?  
Egregium verò Facinus, Ratione fugatâ,  
Indignis quae sola Animum tutare Perîclis  
Possit & Affectus compescere sola rebelles  
Imperium Cordis Puero committere caeco,  
Cui jocus est Mentem furari, Animosque viriles  
Frangere, Faemineâque caput circumdare vittâ!   

Quorsum ego Praeceptis colui tibi Pectus honestis  
Semina Doctrinae injicens, morumque bonorum?  
Spem messis tenues (ah!) ludificantur avenae.  
Herba Amor, infelix totum corrumpit agellum,  
Nec medicinalis sinit illic crescere Plantas.  
Ah Piger! in mea me juratus verba relinquis,  
Musarumque levis sterili nugaris arenâ.   

Quid tibi profuerit studia haec tam vana secuto?  
Ecce! tui Socii, dudum laeta arva tenentes,  
Acquirunt finem studiorum, & Pulpita scandunt,  
Ind docent Populos, & praemia magna reportant:  
Tu vero infelix (monitorum oblito meorum)  
Verba facis, moveant quae ferrea corda Puellae,  
Atque in Avaritiam & Fastum, muliebria clamas  
Crimina nequicquam. Illa nihil tua Dogmata curat;  
Et tuus, & Sermo Sociorum spargitur Austro.  
Te Patria exoptat, te dilectissima Mater,  
Te vicini omnes orant, charique propinqui,  
Ut votis tandem velles, precibusque favere,  
Proque piâ Curâ meritas persolvere grates:  
At tu (nonne pudet?) Cunctos postponis Amicae,  
Inque puellares penitus dissolveris ignes.   

Surge, Puer, nimiumque diu posita Arma resume,  
Excute turpe Jugum, blandosque repelle Furores.  
Volve Libros, pone ante oculos Exempla Virorum,  
Quos Labor assiduus, nox & vigilantibus hausta  
Luminibus, tandem ad meritos evexit honores.  
Audentes sua dextra juvat. Contemnere Amorem  
Aude: Cedit enim, siquis contempserit ipsum.   

Sic Ratio dixit. & dicere plura parabat,  
cum subitò patuere fores, & se intulit illa  
Illa potens formâ, veraeque simillima Divae.  
Olli sidereos oculis afflârat Honores  
Ipsa Venus, multoque caput redimiverat Auro,  
Auro si fas est Dominae componere Crines.  
Candidaque ut puro spectantur Lilia vitro,  
Pulchra relucebat sic per Bombycina Cervix,  
Inque sinu dulci niveae micuêre Mamillae.   

Hujus ad aspectum Ratio tremefacta potentem  
Concidit, ut quondam Piscis (res mira) Philistheus  
Ante Dei pronus venerandam concidit Arcam;  
Argumenta fugamque (imbellis turba) capessunt.  
Assurgo Dominamque caput demissus adoro,  
Et supplex veniam tantae concedere culpae  
Obsecro, perque suos oculos, mea numina, juro.   

Virgo, Luce magis misero dilecta Bakero,  
Corporis ipse tui Complexu avulsus, & almo  
Arcear aspectu, squalenti Carcere clausus,  
Blanda meas iterum Ratio si mulceat aures,  
Inducarve alium, Te praeter, ferre monentem.   

Rebus in humanis, Ratio, tua jura repandas,  
AEternumque impune illâ domineris in Aula:  
Ultra ne tendas, tibi ne perstringat Amoris  
Lumina Sol, nimia Lucemque in Luce relinquas.    

ALEXIS.  

I.  
MY loyal Muse would feign aspire to sing  
The Praises of our gracious King:  
But, ah! 'twould ill become his Godlike Deeds,  
His Wisdom, Patience, and the rest  
Of Virtues that possess his Princely Breast  
(For which wel-furnished Fame more Trumpets needs)  
To be debased and lessened by unskilful Reeds.   

II.  
Wonders of Mercy, bounteous Heaven hath shown  
On him, and he himself is One.  
The marks of Power divine t'all Kings belong:  
But God's beloved Attribute,  
Mercy with few but Charles does suit.  
To things so high 'twould be too great a wrong,  
To think them Burdens fit for every Rural Song.   

III.  
Shepherds are humble People, and for them  
Things humble are the fittest Theme.  
Their Flocks and Herds, cool Streams and flowery Plains  
And secret Woods, the chaste abodes  
Of homely Nymphs, and Country Gods:  
These are the meet and inoffensive strains  
That fill the ready Mouths of all Poetic Swains.   

IV.  
Or if they higher rise, 'tis to relate  
Some Lover's good or evil Fate;  
To praise bright Phyllis, or if she prove coy,  
T'accuse of Avarice and Pride  
Both her and all the Sex beside:  
To mould sad Numbers some their Gift employ  
Others whom kinder Love enlargeth, Hymns of Joy.   

V.  
Among the rest, Damon, who long did prove  
The Force of Poetry and Love,  
(For whoso chooseth one, will soon have both)  
His Friend Alexis happy Fate  
Did kindly thus congratulate:  
Than him the Plains ne'er bred a gentler Youth;  
Verse, sweet as Honey, flowed from his inspired Mouth.   

VI  
Upon the Marsh the friendly Shepherds stood,  
Viewing the calm and gentle Flood  
The whilst beside them said their welknown Flock,  
When softly towards an Haven nigh  
A richly laden Ship sailed by.  
This hint the fruitful Poet swiftly took,  
And thus alluding to the wealthy Bark he spoke,   

VII.  
What happy Star shone on thy winged Fleet?  
What prosperous Gale swelled out thy Sheet?  
I scarce believed thee gone to Sea;  
When thou, with lucky haste thy Voyage done,  
A fair and wealthy Prize hast won:  
O happy Lover! happy thee,  
Who stubborn Beauty's Victor now may'st justly styled be   

VIII.  
Not mighty Caesar with his numerous Host  
A speedier Conquest e'er could boast,  
Than thou hast got by thine own Power:  
With Joy and Triumph valiant Swain; go on,  
Possess the Island thou hast won:  
Stand not thus idly on the Shore,  
But enter, and devour within her goodly Store.   

IX.  
Where Gold upon the Mountain Tops doth grow,  
What may we there expect below?  
Yet tho' with Gold it so abound,  
'Tis from the us'al Fruits of Riches free:  
No Av'rice, nor Hypocrisy,  
No Pride, nor Luxury there is found;  
The golden Land with a true golden Age is crowned,   

X.  
There Truth and Piety take up all the Room,  
And Innocence makes that her home;  
No Place for Falsehood there.  
You may discern the Motions of her Heart,  
So pure her Breast, so free from Art:  
Her Heart shines through her Breasts, as clear  
As through her open Scarf her Breasts themselves appear.   

XI.  
On the calm Shoar (methinks) I see thee stand,  
The Borders of thy promised Land,  
Casting a scornful Look behind  
Upon the Sea, and smiling when thou seest  
Its Rage by barbarous Storms increased:  
The Billows and the boisterous Wind,  
Which others dread so much, are Pleasures to thy Mind.   

XII.  
Ah wretched and too miserable me  
Whose Vessel still is tossed at Sea!  
Amidst the Rocks of Fem'nine Pride  
To Thunder and loud Storms exposed I lie,  
And Lightnings of her angry Eye.  
No gentle Gale blows on my side,  
And not one Star in Heaven appears to be my Guide.   

XIII.  
In vain, in vain the fruitless Seas I plow,  
In vain my shattered Bark I row,  
The adverse Winds blow't back again:  
The Shores I seek still backward move apace;  
In vain I run a desperate Race;  
Then let me sink and perish in the Main:  
The rest I cannot find on Land, Lo! let me here obtain!    

NISA. In Imitation of the Shepherd Damon's Complaint, in the Eighth Eclogue of Virgil.  
Frigida vix Coelo noctis decesserat Umbra, etc.  

I.  
SCarce was the Night's cold Shadow from the Skies  
Withdrawn, when the fresh Dew, that lies  
Upon the tender Grass, doth entertain  
The Flocks with a fat tastful Feast,  
Damon, whose Eyes had found no rest  
(Rest, which unhappy Lovers seek in vain)  
Thus, leaning on his Staff, poor Damon did complain.   

II.  
Rise Lucifer, and bring the Day along,  
Arise, and listen to my Song.  
My latest Song, which in my dying Hour,  
Robbed of the Comfort of my Life,  
Nisa my promised Wife,  
I to the happy Gods above do pour;  
Tho' them in vain I've called to witness heretofore,   

III.  
Thou sacred Hill, upon whose lofty Brow  
Shrill Woods, and speaking Pines do grow,  
Who Shepherd's tuneful Loves dost always hear;  
And Pan who first of all did bring  
The Reeds harmoniously to sing;  
Thou sacred Hill, and vocal Wood draw near:  
Such a sad Song as mine ne'er touched your wakeful Ear.   

IV.  
Fair Nisa does herself on Mopsus throw,  
What may not Lovers hope for now?  
The golden Age (of which old Poets spoke)  
Is come: now Contraries agree,  
And Nature is all Sympathy.  
At sight of Hounds the Deer no more shall quake;  
The Vulture and the Dove shall leagues of Friendship make.   

V.  
Thou shalt be married, Mopsus, go provide,  
The sponsal Cake, and fetch the Bride:  
With Roses let the genial Couch be spread.  
Blessed Man! Night's golden Harbinger  
(Whom lovely Venus holds so dear)  
For thee will earlier lift his sacred Head  
From Oeta's loved Lap, to light thee to thy Bed.   

VI  
Thou, who a scornful Eye on all didst cast,  
Lo! what a worthy Choice at last  
Thou'st made! fair Virgin, look again and see;  
Look e'er too late it prove,  
What Trifles they're, which move  
Thee to abandon thy given Faith, and me,  
And bleating Flocks, and cheerful Songs, and vert'ous Poverty.   

VII.  
Let none persuade thee to believe, dear Love,  
That the unactive Gods above  
Regard not what is done of Men below:  
Amidst thy var'ous Luxuries,  
And all the Court's deceitful Joys,  
Their Plagues will find thee out and make thee know  
What 'tis for filthy Lucres-sake to break thy Nuptial Vow.   

VIII.  
'Twas in the Orchard first I saw my Dear,  
Gathering of golden Apples there.  
Just Thirteen winged Summers than were flown  
Over thy beauteous Head, and thou  
Couldst just reach up to th' laden Bough:  
A sweet but mortal Fever swiftly run  
Through all my Veins, I came, and saw, and was undone.   

IX.  
Now to my cost, alas! I'm made to prove  
Th'unnatural Cruelty of Love.  
Ah barbarous wretch! who made th'a Deity?  
From some rough Mountain's hollow Womb  
In Wales or Scotland thou didst come:  
Proud Boy, thou'rt of a base Blood than we;  
The Devil thee begat, the Furies suckled thee.   

X.  
What wicked Deeds have not by Love been wrought?  
What false and faithless Doctrines taught?  
The most religious sacred Bonds, that e'er  
Nature, or God himself did make,  
The impious Boy doth proudly break.  
By him her reverend Father's Purple Hair  
Scylla cut off, and gave his Crown to her Adulterer.   

XI.  
By him the natural Mother in the Blood  
Of her own Sons her Hands imbrued.  
Ah! cruel Mother! wicked Boy! O say  
Which of the Two shall we  
Conclude the worse to be,  
Him that advised, or her that did obey?  
Both, both alike: but none beside so bad as they.   

XII.  
Now from young Lambs let the Wolf run for fear,  
Now let the Thistle Roses bear.  
Let precious Amber sweat from every Tree.  
Let Oaks with golden Apples bend,  
Let Owls for Voice with Swans contend:  
Let Baker now with Cowley equalled be,  
Cowley who lost his well sung Love, no less than he.   

XIII.  
Let all things back to their old Chaos run,  
Let Horror and Confusion  
Themselves through all th'amused World disperse  
Farewell, ye Woods, farewel, for I  
To Shades more melancholy fly:  
Nisa, farewell. Be this my latest Verse,  
With which I here adorn thy Marri'ge, and my Hearse.     


PINDARIC ODES.  VIRGIL. Eclog. 4. 
— Paulo major a canamus.   

Pindaric ODES.  
Out of HORACE. Carm. Lib. 2. Ode 14. Paraphrased.  

I.  
AH! dearest Friend, the Years are flying;  
They fly alas! they pass away  
(Like a swift Stream) and will in no wise stay;  
There's a necessity of dying.  
Neither thy Wisdom, Friend, nor all thy Care  
Can cure, or hide the Footsteps of old Age  
Which in thy reverend Face begin t'appear.  
Nor can thy deep Philosophy assuage  
The Fury of that mighty Conqueror Death,  
Who rides in Triumph through the World, and all  
Before the Terror of his Presence fall,  
Who walk upon the Earth, or underneath  
Within the Waters play, or in the Air do breath.   

II.  
Tho' every day throughout the rolling Year  
On Pluto's Altar thou shouldst burn  
Three Hundred chosen Bulls, thou canst not turn  
His unrelenting Heart, nor bow his stubborn Ear:  
Who keeps imprisoned in his brazen Hold  
The Giants, and the mighty Men of old;  
In vain they struggle to get out,  
For cruel Fates with hold.  
The Gates are Iron, and the Walls are high,  
And the grim Porter Cerb'rus doth before the Entrancelie.  
And the black River, like a folding Snake  
In Nine deep Circles guards it round about,  
Even Styx the fatal Lake  
O'er which we all must pass, and ne'er return again,  
Be we, or powerful Kings, or simple Country Men.   

III.  
Why do we labour then in vain to shun  
The various Dangers hanging o'er our Head,  
That so we may spin out a tangled and uneven Thread,  
In vain, in vain we run  
From the devouring Sword and thundering Gun;  
Tempestuous Seas we fear in vain,  
And Fevers which in Autumn reign;  
Since if all these were absent, yet  
By a strong Law which cannot be withstood,  
We're bound to die, and see the slothful Flood  
Of black Cocytus, and that impious Brood,  
Which shed their sleeping Bridegroom's Blood,  
And of a Nuptial made a winding Sheet;  
Now they with endless Labour groan,  
And wish they had not Swords but only Distaves known:  
And Sisyphus, condemned to roll the restless Stone.   

IV.  
Thy hoarded Treasures, and thy Manner house,  
From whose aspiring towers thou may'st descry  
The spacious Fields around, and all the passers by,  
Yet canst not measure out the Bounds  
Of thine own Grounds,  
So far extended every Way they lie,  
Beyond the reach of all, except the World's great Eye,  
Must all be left, together with thy pleasant Spouse,  
In whose bright Wit and Beauty now thy Mind  
Doth soft, but sound Contentment find.  
Of all the Trees, which now with equal Art & Care  
Thy wise industrious Hand doth rear;  
Not one will wait upon thee (save  
A Bunch of mournful Cypress) to the Grave.   

V.  
The wiser and more noble Heir  
Since he t'enjoy with freedom will not grudge  
What thou so niggardly dost spare,  
And, like things hallowed, art afraid to touch,  
Will lavishly consume and spend  
(As if they ne'er could have an end)  
Thy Goods, and open all the Treasuries  
Which now are locked up with an Hundred Keys,  
And bring the Prisoners forth to the long wished for Light.  
He with his boon Companions will carouse  
And roar and frolic in thy House,  
And with the Lady's Dance and Revel all the Night;  
And wash the Floor with Floods of richer Wine  
Than they but sip, who at my Lord-May'r's Table Dine.    

Sacred POEMS.  

A Paraphrase on Psal. 128.  

I.  
Harken, (for it concerns you near) to me  
All you that happy wish to be.  
Would you be certain not to miss  
Of Peace on Earth, in Heaven of Bliss?  
Then let th'Almighty's Fear within you reign  
To teach you Virtue, and from Vice restrain;  
Walk in the Ways of God: his Ways are safe and plain.  
Blessed art thou who thus thy Steps dost guide,  
Blessed and safe on every side.  
Thy peaceful Temples shall be crowned  
With Garlands of fresh Honours all around.  
A Thousand Comforts thou shalt meet  
Above thy Head, and underneath thy Feet.  
Of thine own Labours thou shalt eat  
(An wholesome and well-relished Food  
That needs no Sauce to make it savoury and good)  
And freely shalt enjoy the Fruit of all thy Toil and Sweat.   

II.  
To this an happy Wife shall added be;  
An happy Wife shall fall to thee,  
Who round thy Neck her gentle Arms will twine  
Like Tendrels of the fertile Vine,  
And Kisses give that far surpass the richest Wine:  
And from an unexhausted Store  
Of Love and Meekness evermore  
Fresh Comforts, and new Charms she will apply,  
And by dividing double all thy Joy.  
Each others mutual Help, blessed Pair, ye shall be made;  
Thou her supporting Wall, she thy refreshing Shade.  
Meet-helper, She! Her pleasant Usefulness  
The Vine and its fair Fruit do well express,  
For she thy Spirit will revive, and cheer thy Heart no less.   

III.  
A generous Off'spring to thy Bed she'll bring,  
An honest healthful Race from her will spring,  
Who round the Table shall be seen,  
Strait as young Plants, like Olives fresh and green.  
These thou with Joy shalt view, and tender Love,  
And then a secret Bliss will move  
With Raptures not to be expressed,  
In thy Contented and Paternal Breast.  
Yet think not, happy Man, that this  
Thy whole and final Portion is:  
Far better Things God hath for thee in store,  
And choicer Blessings on thy Head will pour,  
Blessings from Zion, his own House, from whence  
His best Gifts he doth still dispense.  
And loves to have us come to fetch them thence.  
The Church shall flourish too, and thou shalt bear  
In her Prosperity a liberal Share.  
Thus thou shalt live, and gladly see  
Thy Children, and their hopeful Progeny,  
A numerous and well-governed Family.  
And further, that thou may'st be sure  
This prosperous State will long endure,  
A public Peace thy private Blessings shall secure.    

On Mr. George Herbert's Sacred Poems, called, The Temple.  

I.  
SO long had Poetry possessed been  
By Pagans, that a Right in her they claimed,  
Pleaded Prescription for their Sin,  
And Laws they made, and Arguments they framed,  
Nor thought it Wit, if God therein was named:  
The true GOD; for of false ones they had store,  
Whom Devils we may better call,  
And every thing they deified,  
And to a Stone, Arise and help they cried.  
And Womankind they fell before;  
Even Womankind, which caused at first their Fall,  
Were almost the sole Subject of their Pen,  
And the chief Deities adored by fond and sottish Men.   

II.  
Herbert at last arose,  
Herbert inspired with holy Zeal,  
Their Arguments he solved, their Laws he did repeal,  
And spite of all th'enraged, Foes  
That with their utmost Malice did oppose,  
He rescued the poor Captive, Poetry,  
Whom her vile Masters had before decreed,  
All her immortal Spirit to employ  
In painting out the Lip or Eye  
Of some fantastic Dame, whose Pride Incentives did not need.  
This mighty Herbert could not brook;  
It grieved his pious Soul to see  
The best and noblest Gift,  
That God to Man has left,  
Abused to serve vile Lust, and sordid Flattery:  
So, glorious Arms in her Defence he took;  
And when with great Success he'd set her free,  
He raised her fancy on a stronger Wing,  
Taught her of God above, and Things Divine to sing.   

III.  
Th'infernal Powers that held her fast before  
And great Advantage of their Prisoner made,  
And drove of Souls a gainful Trade,  
Began to mutiny and roar.  
So when Demetrius and his Partners viewed 
Acts 19   
Their Goddess, and with her, their dearer Gains to fall,  
They draw together a confused Multitude,  
And into th' Theatre they crowd,  
And great Diana, great, they loudly call.  
Up into th'Air their Voices fly,  
Some one thing, some another cry,  
And most of them, they know nor why.  
They cry aloud, till the Earth ring again,  
Aloud they cry; but all in vain.  
Diana down must go; They can no more  
Their sinking Idol help, than she could them before.  
Down she must go with all her Pomp and Train:  
The glorious Gospel-Sun her horned Pride doth slain,  
No more to be renewed, but ever in the Wane;  
And Poetry, now grown Divine above must ever reign.   

IV.  
A Mon'ment of this Victory  
Our David, our sweet Psalmist, raised on high,  
When he this Giant under foot did tread,  
And with Verse, his own Sword, cut off the Monster's Head.  
For as a Sling and Heav'n-directed Stone  
Laid flat the Gathite Champion, who alone  
Made Thousands tremble, while he proudly stood  
Bidding Defiance to the Hosts of God:  
So fell th' infernal Powers before the Face  
Of mighty Herbert, who upon the Place  
A Temple built, that does outgo  
Both Solomon's, and Herod's too,  
And all the Temples of the Gods by far;  
So costly the Materials, and the Workmanship so rare  
A Temple built, as God did once ordain  
Without the Saw's harsh Noise 
Deut. 27. 5. 1 Kings 6. 7.   
Or the untuneful Hammer's Voice,  
But built with sacred music's sweetest strain,  
Like Theban Walls of old, as witty Poets feign.   

V.  
Hail, heavenly Bard, to whom great LOVE has given  
(His mighty Kindness to express)  
To bear his Three mysterious Offices;  
Prophet, and Priest on Earth thou wast, and now a King in Heaven.  
There thou dost reign, and there  
Thy Business is the same 'twas here,  
And thine old Songs thou singest over again:  
The Angels and the Heavenly Choir  
Gaze on thee, and admire  
To hear such Anthems from an earthly Lyre,  
Their own Hymns almost equalled by an human Pen.  
We foolish Poets hope in vain  
Our Works Eternity shall gain:  
But sure those Poems needs must die  
Whose Theme is but Mortality.  
Thy wiser and more noble Muse  
The best, the only way did choose  
To grow Immortal: For what Chance can wrong,  
What Teeth of Time devour that Song  
Which to a Heavenly Tune is set for glorified Saints to use?  
O may some Portion of thy Spirit on me  
(Thy poor Admirer) light, whose Breast  
By wretched mortal Loves hath been too long possessed!  
When, Oh! when will the joyful Day arise  
That rescued from these Vanities,  
These painted Follies I shall be,  
If not an inspired Poet, yet an holy Priest like thee.    

DEATH.  
Victurosque Dei celant, ut vivere durent;  
Felix est mori—  Luc. Phar. Lib. 4. 

I.  
COme, Life's long Hope, and on thy peaceful Breast  
My burning Temples let me rest!  
Worn out with Grief, pressed down with Loads of Care,  
To thee for succour I repair,  
Thou Comfort of the Sad, and ease of the Oppressed.  
Could Mortals all thy Virtues clearly see,  
As much beloved and courted thou wouldst be  
By all the World, as now thou art by me.  
Wars would not fright us then  
Into walled Towns, nor thence  
Would we be driven by the Pestilence.  
To breathe the healthful Country Air again:  
Nor to the Doctor would Men fly,  
Unless to crave his aidful hand, to make them sooner die,  
Thou art the Pilgrim's Home, the poor Man's Wealth  
The Captive's Ransom, and the sick Man's Health,  
In vain of Goods and Liberty  
The Living boast; for none are free  
Or rich, but only such as are made so by thee.   

II.  
But Men (alas!) are blind to their own Good,  
They eat the Harbour, and desire to be  
For ever tossing on the stormy Flood:  
From Peace and Happiness they flee,  
Because the Benefits that come from thee  
Cannot be seen nor understood  
But by a wel-purged Mind, a quick enlightening Eye.  
Blest Aaron's Lot: full wisely he did spy  
Thy various Gifts, and well did count  
To what vast Sums thy Treasures do amount,  
When to the Top of Hor, with thee to meet,  
His longing Soul drew up his aged Feet.  
There unconcerned like one that goes to Rest,  
Having first himself undressed,  
While Godlike Moses and his own dear Son,  
The Heir of his high Place, with Tears stood looking on.  
His wel-pleased Head down laid the good old Priest  
To Heaven it's Home, his Spirit enlarged fled;  
Within thy Arms his other Part was safe Deposited.   

III.  
Ah! Let it not prejudge my suit, that I  
To thee so late a Convert fly.  
Thou dost dispense, I grant, such solid Joys  
As well may win a Soul, that lies  
Nursed in the Lap of warm Prosperities,  
And well thou dost deserve our first and freest Choice:  
But 'tis (alas) our folly still  
Not to know Good, till first we taste of iii.  
We're like Sea-monsters, which before  
They're wounded, never come to Shore.  
So when God's People by the fleshpots sat,  
Enjoying Bondage easy, they forgot  
Their promised Country: But the Iron Rod  
Of Pharaoh, and the toilsome Fire  
Soon kindled in their Breasts a strong desire  
Out of Egypt to retire,  
And travel towards the fatal Land, where God  
Had promised rest to them, and safe abode;  
A Land, where gentle Streams of Milk and tastful Honey flowed.   

IV.  
They know thee not, who thee grim Feature style,  
And meager Shadow; Names too vile  
And much unfit for thee, whose every Part  
Lays stronger Chains upon the Heart,  
And binds with sweeter Force, than all  
That mortal Lover's Beauty call,  
Tho' heightened much by Fancy, and helped by Art  
Through the false perspective of Hate  
They looked, who hollow Cheeks in thee espied.  
And Mouth for ever open, grinning wide,  
With deep sunk Eyes, and Nose down levelled flat.  
thou'rt lovely all; no Virgin e'er  
Smiled so sweet, or looked so fair,  
Save she whose heavenly Womb Man's ruin did repair.  
The Charms and Graces which we find  
Dispersed here and there in Womankind,  
Are all united, and summed up in thee,  
Beauty's rich Epitome.  
Oh! that in this thou wouldst not too  
That peevish Sex outdo,  
Flying the more from Men, the more they woe ●   

V.  
Truth is, thou once wast such as we  
Fond timorous Men suspect thee still to be.  
Thy Look was Terrible, and justly might  
The most resolved Heart affright,  
Unable to endure the ghastly Sight,  
And on thy gloomy Eye lids sat eternal Night.  
But now thy looks are mended: now in thee  
No Terror nor Deformity,  
But Friendliness and Love is all we see.  
The Blood that issued from my Saviour's Side  
By strange Transfusion filled each Vein  
Of thine with such a noble Tide,  
That thou'rt grown fresh and young again;  
Young as the Morn, Fresh as a Virgin-bride.  
The Roses which thy Cheek adorn,  
Were there transplanted, from the Thorn  
Which on his sacred Head did grow:  
His Innocence did deck  
Thy Hands and Neck  
With Beds of Lilies whiter far than Snow.  
Thy Shaft which was of old  
Headed with baleful Lead, he tipped with Gold,  
It touched his precious Heart,  
And strait new Virtue drew, to dart  
Not Death, but Life and Joy instead of Smart.  
And ever since, thou'rt lovely grown;  
Since then, thy charming Face has shone  
With borrowed Grace and Beauty, not thine own.   

VI  
Thy Nature thus being changed 'tis fit  
Thy Name should likewise change with it.  
And so it is; Thy Christian Name is Rest,  
Sweet Rest, whose balmy Hand at Night repairs  
The vital Spirits, and Strength, which Day  
And painful Labour waste away:  
Of all God's Gifts the softest, and the best  
The fruitful Womb of Peace, the Tomb of Grief and Cares.  
But yet, 'twixt other Rests and thee there lies  
This difference: they give Short, thou Lasting Joys.  
They make us abler to endure  
The long Disease of Life, thou the Disease dost cure.  
Our tender Hearts, which the fierce Vulture, Pain  
Devoureth, they restore to feel fresh Wounds again;  
But when thy Power is over,  
To Grief and Labour we return no more:  
Of everlasting Peace and Joy thou art the Door.  
Eternal Life we cannot gain but by  
Thy Gift and Liberality,  
And he that hopes to live, must wish to die.   

VII.  
This Hope it is that now my Heart doth move,  
For truly (that I may no flatterer prove)  
Thy Goods, O gentle Death, not thee I love.  
I would not perish like a Beast:  
To thee and all the World I here protest.  
No such unmanly Thought e'er came within my Breast.  
My Wishes are more generous than to be  
Reduced to my First Nonentity:  
I would not be unmade, but made anew by thee.  
ay thee, as Men rich Widows do,  
Not for thyself, but for thy Portion woe:  
Nor shouldst thou ever hear of Love from me,  
Were I not sure e'er long to bury thee,  
That by thy Spoils enriched I may arise  
More glorious Banns to solemnize,  
And change thy cold Love for a nobler Flame,  
The Nuptials of th'eternal Lamb.    

JUDITH.  

I.  
SPeak, Muse, whom wilt thou sing?  
What mighty Man, what King,  
Upon the Stage what Hero wilt thou bring,  
To act his Part o'er once again,  
In such impetuous Numbers, as shall make  
His hearers (as his Enemies did) to quake?  
No, no; my Muse will not this Subject take.  
She'll meddle not with men  
Too long already they have been  
The flattered Theme of the Pindaric Peneus  
The fair and gentle Sex  
With barbarous Spite to vex  
Their spleenful Tongues while others bend,  
My grateful and more generous Muse  
(Like virtuous Knlghts of old) a nobler Task will choose,  
Wronged and abused Ladies to defend.  
A Woman she will sing, whose matchless worth  
The best of Men must gladly Copy forth,  
If ever they expect to have their Name  
Recorded in the Rolls of neverdying Fame.   

II.  
Begin, begin, and strike the Lyre  
Teach all the World great judith to admire,  
judith who in that Hand a Fauchi'n bore  
Which a Distaff held before;  
Who bought the Safety of her native Town,  
With the Danger of her own;  
Whose conquering Eyes th' Assyrian Tyram spoiled  
Of his proud Hopes, and all his shining Glories soiled.  
The fairest, and the chastest of her kind,  
(Two Epithets, that are but seldom joined,  
Unless for some great Work by Heaven designed)  
And with these Female Gifts, Courage and Wit combined,  
Which we Male-Virtues called till then,  
And thought them proper to us Men.  
judith all these together brought,  
And selfconceited Men a better Judgement taught,  
More fair and good than every she,  
More bold and wise than every he:  
A Miracle she was, greater than that she wrought.   

III.  
Her mourning Habit laid aside,  
Which ne'er was done till now, since good Manasses died,  
She dressed herself in all her gaiety and Pride,  
Not like a drooping Widow, but a sprightful Bride.  
And to her natural Beauty did impart  
Some little needless help of Art.  
Her Skin she washes, and she curls her Hair,  
Her Head a Bonnet set with sparkling Gems doth bear,  
Upon her Arms, her Fingers, and her Ears  
She Bracelets, Rings, and Jewels wears,  
And Silver Slippers on her feet.  
Armed weakly (one would think) a mighty Host to meet:  
But naked Beauty has a stronger Force  
Than armed Bands of Foot, and Troops of Horse.  
Thus armed, the Generals Heart she'll captive lead;  
His Heart she first will take, and then his Head.   

IV.  
Thus dressed, towards the proud Generals Tent,  
The Widow and her Maid with dil'gent Footsteps went:  
Bethulia ' Elders wondered she would go  
So late, so dressed, attended so:  
They wondered, but they feared no ill intent;  
He well-known Piety and Innocence  
Against Suspicion were a strong Defence.  
But on secure th' Heroic Lady goes,  
Nor fears she ought amidst the armed Foes;  
So bold is Beauty, when her Strength she knows.  
And now the Guards upon her Seize,  
And to the Gen'ral carry their fair Prize:  
The Sight his wanton Fancy much doth please;  
He makes his Soul a Slave to her imperious Eyes.  
And swears, if with her Love she him will crown,  
He'll think't a nobler Triumph than the vanquished Town.  
The Soldiers round his Tent do Crowd  
Their Wonder makes them insolent and rude,  
And thus they boldly cry aloud,  
Happy Hebrews! happy they  
Who'mbrace such Beauties every day!  
Come on, brave Hearts, let's make the Town submit  
That every one of us may such a Mistress get.  
Fond Fools, rejoice not that to you she's fled. 
2 King. 19 35.   
Your Fathers were of old by an Angel visited  
But 'twas to kill: expect the like Fate you,  
For this is a destroying Angel too.   

V.  
Tell me what made thee leave this Town,  
Said Holophernes 'twixt a Smile and Frown  
(The Smile to her, to th' Town the Frown he gave)  
This Town that dares me to outbrave,  
And against my Two great Gods so vainly boast,  
Th' Assyrian Monarch, and this numerous Host?  
She softly answered with a virtuous Lie,  
That Isr'el's God his People would forsake,  
Because by strong necessity compelled,  
His reverend Laws they had agreed to break,  
And eat such things as were by strict Command withheld.  
That she their Sin and Punishment to fly,  
Had fled for Safety to his Princely Aid:  
Nor should the noble Favour be unpaid,  
For she would undertake to show  
The Season when and Manner how  
These desperate Hebrews he might best subdue.   

VI  
She spoke, and by their Looks perceived  
Her Tale was readily believed,  
Which made her bold thus to proceed and say,  
Wherefore, great Prince, I beg that with your leave I may  
Each Night go forth without the Camp to pray;  
For than my God to whom  
Fervent Devotions I do daily pay,  
Will tell me when Bethulia's Day is come.  
Then I, dread Sir, your valiant Troops will head  
And through the Heart of Palestina lead,  
And none shall dare to draw a Sword at them,  
Until all Labours over past,  
This Hand your peaceful Throne have placed  
Within the Walls of sacked jerusalem.  
While thus she pleads, he gazes on her Face,  
Admires her Wit, and Beauty, and the Grace  
Of her enchanting Words, and drinks down Love apace.  
His Heart is wounded, inwardly he burns,  
And for her sake a Party-Convert turns,  
If this be true (said he)  
And if thy God and thou perform all this for me,  
He shall my God, and thou my Goddess be.  
No other Deity I'll serve, but thine, and thee.   

VII.  
For Joy he makes a royal Feast,  
And beauteous judith is his Guest.  
The golden Cups are crowned,  
And Iudith's Health goes round.  
With Flames of Wine he nourisheth Love's Fire:  
Drunkenness doubles his Desire.  
At last the Company retire,  
Leaving their envied Gen'ral to his Rest,  
And (as they thought) to a more delicious Feast,  
For Love, (that wanton Epicure) by luscious Beauty dressed.  
He trebly drunk, with Joy, and Wine and Love  
Does from the Table to the Bed remove:  
The Bed, the Table, and the Tent turn round,  
With misty Fumes his Brain is drowned,  
And his weak Sight  
Doubles the Light;  
Their Watch his Senses cannot keep  
(Such Dangers ever do attend  
The Man whom drunken Guards defend)  
Their Master is by them betrayed t'a deadly Sleep.   

VIII.  
Sleep Holophernes, sleep thy last:  
For when this Slumber once is passed,  
Over thy Head his downy Wing shall never more be cast.  
The Bed, whereon thou next shalt lie,  
Will be a Bed of Flames, that never can expire,  
Of Flames more hot & smoky than thy lustful Fire,  
And Death will then appear a welcome Remedy;  
But thou (alas!) must never die.  
The Devils roaring, and the Groans  
Of damned Souls, and thine own Pains and Moans,  
The Clank of Chains, the Whips unpleasant Noise,  
The laughing Fury's dismal Voice  
All hope of Slumber from thine Eyes will take,  
And ever, ever keep thy weary Soul awake,   

IX.  
Thus while in Sleep the Gen'ral buried lies  
The valiant Dame comes softly to the Bed,  
And takes the Fauchi'n from her Lover's Head,  
And, lifting up to Heaven her faithful Eyes,  
Now help me, O my God (said she) and now  
Thy promised Mercy to thy People show.  
Then up she lifts her Arm, and strikes a Blow  
Upon his Neck with all her might,  
(An unseen Angel guides the Blow aright)  
Out Blood, and Wine, and Life, together mingled flow.  
A second Time she lifts her mighty Hands  
(The Angel ready by her stands)  
And with that Stroke his Soul is severed  
From's Body, and his Body from his Head.  
This done, the subtle Conqueror goes apace  
Through all the Guards upon Pretence  
Of Prayer, and unsuspected carries thence  
Their Master's Head, the Hebrew towers to grace.  
What Tongue can tell th'excess of Joy, which then  
Oe'rflowed the Hearts of saved Bethulia's Men?  
The Mouths which heretofore with Thirst were dried,  
Found Moisture now their inward Joy to vent  
And Eyes, which all their Stock had spent,  
While they the public Danger did lament,  
Pumped up fresh Tears of Gladness, when they ' spied  
In Iudith's Hand, the Tyrant's Head,  
Who all their Sorrows, and their Fears had bred.  
Nor was their Joy secure, and unemployed,  
But all quick Preparation make,  
As soon as e'er the early Morn should ' wake,  
Their well-appointed Arms to take,  
And sally out upon the careless Foe,  
Whilst yet the last Night's Fate he did not know.   

X.  
The Morning come, the Soldier's throng  
About the Generals Tent, and think he sleeps too long;  
With waiting tired, at last they open the Door;  
And lo! their Duke lies Headless on the Floor,  
His Corpse all wallowed in Dirt and Gore  
And lo! an hideous Cry through all the Army flies,  
Fear, and Despair, and Horror fill the Place:  
Nothing appears in every Face,  
But Wonder, Paleness, and Surprise.  
Such, I believe, but more amazing far  
Will the Face of things appear,  
Such Trembling and Astonishment will come  
On sinful Wretches at the Day of Doom,  
When Earth shall from the Centre start, 
Rev. 6. 12. etc.  and all  
The blasted Stars like unripe Figs shall fall.  
Torn from the Sphere, as Fruit by Tempest from the Tree  
When the Sun's Lamp obscure and black shall grow  
And thrust his Head into eternal Night,  
And the Appearance of a greater Light,  
And from the Moon (robbed of her Brother's Sight)  
All Beauty shall depart, and Tears of Blood shall flow.  
When all the Orbs of Heaven untuned shall be,  
And like a Parchment Scroll  
Which Men together roll,  
Crackle, and shrink on heaps amidst the Fire,  
Wherein the aged World's proud Fabric must expire,  
And when the Sea shall boil, and from her Bosom throw  
The Islands she embraces now.  
When Nature's self shall feel Death's inward Pain,  
And Rocks and Mountains shall be implored in vain  
To shelter guilty Souls from that devouring Flame '  
Which burns before the Presence of the now despised Lamb.   

XI.  
Hold, hold, audacious Muse, forbear to wrong,  
This mighty Day with thy bold Tongue.  
Whither has this great Hint transported thee?  
Call in thy 'nruly Heat, which hath digressed so long;  
And let this dreadful Judgement be  
The daily Business of my Thoughts, more than my Song.  
Return we to th' Assyrian Camp, and view  
The sad Effects that Wine and Lust ensue.  
While thus amazed they stand, and no man knew  
Or what to say, or what to do,  
In, like fierce lightning, Lo! the Hebrews flew.  
The Torrent of whose direful Rage  
Nor struggling can repel, nor yielding can assuage.  
For like a mighty Wind,  
Which scatters, or overthrows with violent Force  
Whatever stops the Passage of his haughty Course.  
With no less fury they  
Whoever they find without Distinction slay.  
Revenge, as well as Love is blind,  
It sees no Cause of reverence, nor of being kind:  
Princes and common Soldiers heaped together ray.  
In vain some for their Lives do fight,  
Others as vainly fly:  
Death overtakes these in their Flight,  
And th'others stay to die.  
They fly; their furnished Tents behind them stay,  
To th' Isra'lites a joyful Prey,  
Who in Assyrian Blood died Red their Holy day.   

XII.  
Return my Muse, leave now the bloody Field,  
And let thy tuneful Strings a softer Music yield,  
Return to Israel's joyful Sons, and sing  
How to the Temple they their vowed Off rings bring.  
The Altar with bright Flames is beautified,  
Whole Hecatombs of chosen Bullocks fried,  
And Clouds of Incense to the Skies  
Perfumed with grateful Praises rise.  
And now where's beauteous judith, where  
To take her due and mighty Share  
In this great solemn Feast of Victory  
Wrought by her conquering Hand, and more prevailing Eye?  
Look there, and you a charming Troop shall 'spie,  
Such as no show that e'er you saw can vie,  
Of beauteous Maids and Matrons a bright Galaxy.  
See, see how Iudith's Star above the rest aspires!  
She shines like Cynthia amongst the lesser Fires.  
Lo! in what decent Pride the now glad Widow stands!  
A Crown of Olive on her Head she wears,  
And the glad Name of Isr'el's Saviour hears.  
The Women round her dance with Branches in their Hands,  
And a triumphant Song they sing,  
As once they did to Isr'el's destined King;  
For she to her ten Thousands may be said,  
T' have slain in eutting off the Army's Head.  
Behind the Men of Isr'el joyful go,  
All armed, not for Battle, but for show,  
And as they march along thus to her Praise  
Then cheerful Voices raise.   

XIII.  
Hail, guardian Angel of old Isr'el's Seed,  
The Stock of faithful Abraham,  
To whom the Promise of Salvation came,  
Which now our joyful Eyes have seen fulfilled indeed  
Much we have seen: but yet our Sons shall see  
Much more than we:  
For greater Things are breeding in the Womb  
Of Time to come.  
Hail judith, t' whom, next to kind Heaven we owe  
That thus triumphantly we go,  
Nor fear th'Insultings of a conquering Foe.  
Such Fruit thy Beauty's born, as never grew  
Upon that Stock, till now.  
Beauty's destroyed Towns oft, and may do more:  
Never did Beauty save a Town before.  
'Tis thou that hast improved its Fruit  
By grafting it on Virtue's noble Root.  
Ah! how unlike to thine, how far less fair  
Is that which other Ladies bear!  
Thou Freedom giv'st to all: they Fools enslave,  
Their Beauty boasts to kill, but thine to save.  
Their Eyes to Comets may be likened well,  
Whose direful Beams approaching Plagues foretell:  
Thine, like the gracious Sun, dispense  
Health and Beauty, Life and Sense,  
And cheer the World by their kind Influence.  
Shine Beauteous judith; for no Light  
Like thine, will ever glad our sight,  
Until the Sun of Righteousness arise,  
The true and living Light, to bless our Heart and Eyes.      


VIRGILIUS EVANGELIZANS. A POEM UPON Christmas-Day. In Imitation of the Fourth Eclogue of VIRGIL, Entitled, POLLIO.   

THE PREFACE.  
THe Fourth Eclogue of Virgil, taken by him out of Sibylla's Oracles, containeth a famous Prediction, concerning the Birth of our blessed Saviour (which was then at hand) and the Benefits of his Incarnation, together with the State of his Church, until the Restitution of all things. Which the Poet not understanding, nor imagining that a Person so extraordinary could arise any where but among the Romans, applieth to Saloninus the Son of Pollio, then newly born; or as Irather think, to some young Infant of the Imperial Family: for he would hardly ascribe so great a Kingdom, and such mighty Acts to a private Person, for fear of displeasing Augustus, on whose Line all Power and Greatness was by the Flattery of Courtiers entailed for ever.  
I have here endeavoured to rectify Virgil's Mistake, and restore this excellent Poem to its right owner: there being several things in it, which cannot, with any show of Truth, he applied to any Person, but the Son of God. And herein I have taken the Liberty (which the Poet, I suppose did with the Prophetess) to leave out some things, to add others, and by a Paraphrase to make the Sense more plain and easy. Yet the Reader will find very little in the Translation, that is not hinted in the Original, which will appear, if any Man will take the Pains to confer them together.  
Tho' Virgil was not so happy as to understand his own Verses, yet in After times the reading of them did incline several Persons to the Christian Faith, and the Primitive Fathers made use of them, to convince the Pagans, that a Messias, a King from Heaven, a Restorer of all things was promised by God, and about that time expected by Men.  
Thus God left not himself without Witness, even amongst the Gentiles, tho' through their Pride and Ignorance they misapplied the Intimations given them from Heaven.   

VIRGIL Eclog. 4.  

I.  
SIcelides Musae paulo majora canamus:  
Non omnes arbusta juvant, humilesque myricae  
Si canimus Sylvas, Sylvae sint Consule dignae,  
Ultima Cumaei venit jam Carminis aetas;  
Magnus ab integro Seclorum nascitur ordo.  
Jam redit & virgo, redeunt Saturnia Regna.  
Jam nova Progenies Coelo demittitur alto.  
Tu modo nascenti Puero, quo Ferrea primum  
Desinet, ac toto surget Gens aurea mundo,  
Casta fave Lucina: tuus jam regnat Apollo.   

II.  
Teque adeo, Decus hoc aevi, te Consule inibit,  
Pollio, & incipient magni procedere Menses.  
Te Duce, siqua manent Sceleris vestigia nostri,  
Irrita perpetua solvent Formidine Gentes.  
Ille Deum vitam accipiet, Divisque videbit  
Permistos Heroas, & ipse videbitur illis,  
Pacatumque reget Patriis virtutibus Orbem.   

III.  
At tibi prima, Puer, nullo Monuscula cultu  
Errantes Ederas passim cum Baccare Tellus  
Mistaque ridenti Colocasia fundet Acantho.  
Ipsae lacte domum referent distenta Capellae  
Ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta Leones.  
Ipsa tibi blandos fundent Cunabula Flores,  
Occidet & serpens, & fallax herba Veneni  
Occidet, Assyrium vulgo nascetur Amomum.   

IV.  
At simul Heroum Laudes, & Facta Parentum  
Jam legere, & quae sit poteris cognoscere Virtus,  
Molli paulatim flavescet Campus Aristâ,  
Incultisque rubens pendebit sentibus Uva,  
Et durae quercus sudabunt roscida Mella.   

V.  
Pauca tamen suberunt priscae vestigia Fruadis,  
Quae tentare Thetin ratibus, quae cingere muris  
Oppida, quae ju beant, telluri infindere sulcos.  
Alter erit tum Typhis, & altera quae vehat Argo  
Delectos Heroas; erunt etiam altera Bella,  
Atque iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achilles.   

VI  
Hinc ubi jam firmata Virum te fecerit aetas,  
Cedet & ipse Mari vector, nec nautica Pinus  
Mutabit merces; omnis ferit omnia Tellus.  
Non rastros patietur Humus, non vinea Falcem,  
Robustus quoque jam Tauris juga solvet Arator.  
Nec varios discet mentiri Luna Colores;  
Ipse sed in pratis Aries jam suave-rubenti  
Murice, jam croceo mutabit vellera Luto.  
Sponte sua sandyx pascentes vestiet agnos.  
Talia secla suis dixerunt currite fusis.  
Concordes stabili Fatorum numine Parcae.   

VII.  
Aggredere, ô magnos (aderit jam Tempus) honores.  
Chara Deum soboles, magnum Jovis Incrementum,  
Aspice convexo nutantem pondere mundum,  
Terraque tractusque Maris, Coelumque profundum!  
Aspice venturo laetentur ut omnia seclo!  
O mihi tam longe maneat pars ultima vitae,  
Spiritus, & quantum sat erit tua dicere Facta,  
Non me Carminibus vincet, nec Thracius Orpheus,  
Nec Linus; huic Mater quamvis, atque huic Pater adsit,  
Orphei Calliopea, Lino formosus Apollo.    

Virgilius Evangelizans, etc.  

I.  
ENough of Rural Things, my Muse,  
The lowly Shrubs and Bushes of the Field  
To all an equal Pleasure do not yield.  
'Tis Time for thee a nobler Theme to choose:  
Or if of Woods thou still do sing.  
Let them be such Woods as are  
Worthy of a Consuls Care.  
Enough my Muse, of Love and Womankind.  
Take now thy Lute and to it bind  
A loud and everlasting String,  
And make the joyful News through the wide  
World to ring.  
The golden Age is come that shall unfold  
Sibylla's mystic Oracles of old.  
Behold! at last the heavenly Maid is come,  
Whose long-expected Fruit shall bless us all,  
And from the Regions of high Heaven recall!  
The Days of Paradise before the Fall.  
See, how her chaste and sacred Womb  
Does with Seed immortal swell!  
From Heaven the best Conception did descend,  
May Angels at their Master's Birth attend, 
S. Luke 2. 13, 14.   
And to Mankind the welcome Tidings tell,  
That by the Merit of this highborn Child  
The ancient Enmity is now exiled,  
And God and Man are reconciled;  
Peace on the Earth through him, the Prince of  
Peace doth dwell.   

II.  
Thou Pollio thou shalt surely see  
This Darling of Manking, the World's Desire: 
Hag. 2. 7.   
For yet before thy Consulship expire  
The wondrous Things shall be performed, that are foretold by me.  
For now the Womb of Time so big is grown,  
It cannot long the ripened Birth with hold:  
A new Account of Years comes marching on,  
The Iron Age will soon improve to Gold.  
Come, blessed Infant, whom high Heaven ordains  
The promised Renovation to begin;  
'Tis thou must wash away the Stains  
And Footsteps of original Sin,  
And ease Mankind of all the Fears they now are in.  
A Life divine thou on the Earth shalt lead  
Amidst thy Saints conversing Face to Face,  
A Privilege not given till now to human Race.  
Upon thy Foes thy Foot shall tread:  
Thou thy great Father's Gift the World shalt sway,  
And all the Kingdoms of the Earth thy Sceptre shall obey. 
Psal. 2. 8, 9    

III.  
In Honour of thy Birth, the Earth untilled  
All kinds of Sovereign Herbs and smiling Flowers shall yield.  
Roses and Lilies of their own accord  
Shall grow about the Cradle of their Lord.  
All Creatures in thy Service shall agree;  
The Kine shall dutifully bring  
Their well filled Bottles to their Infant King, 
Is. 7. 1●   
And thou shalt suck the free will Off rings of the Bee  
'Twixt tame and savage Beasts there shall remain  
No difference in thy peaceful Reign, 
Isai. 11. 6. etc.   
The Kids with Wolves shall safely dwell,  
And Lambs sleep boldly in the Leopard's Cell,  
The Flocks shall feed secure, and for thy sake  
The Lion and the call shall Leagues of Friendship make.  
Nay, Man more savage yet than these, 
Isa. 2. 4.   
Shall lay aside the Thoughts of War:  
The found of Trumpets than shall cease,  
No loud Alarms shall disturb Man's ease,  
But janus' Gates an universal Peace shall bar.  
Th'old Serpent's Head shall bruised be, 
Gen. ●. 15.   
And all his Poison taken out by thee,  
No Herbs of painful Nature shall be found;  
But rich Assyrian Odours then shall grow on every Ground.   

IV.  
But as in Strength and Stature thou shalt grow,  
Thy Fame shall new Advances make:  
Whatever ancient Prophets spoke  
Thou shalt not only answer but outdo.  
The Virtues of thy Royal Line,  
Which in the sacred Books so clearly shine,  
Shall be obscured and overcast by thine:  
As less illustrious Stars slip out of sight,  
When once the Sun steps forth all clad in golden Light.  
The cursed Earth, which like a Desert lies,  
A barren and unlovely Land,  
Into a fair and fruitful Paradise  
Shall be reform by thy skilful Hand.  
Thy precious Seed in every Field  
A manifold Increase shall yield.  
The Wood's wild Plants shall feel thy Power divine,  
Their Naturo thou shalt change, their Fruit refine,  
And bid the rugged Thorn become a noble Vine.  
On Brambles thou the purple Rose shalt set,  
And stubborn Oaks shall store of tastful Honey sweat.   

V  
Yet still some Relics of the primitive Stain  
Shall in the Root of tainted Nature lurk,  
And countermine thy sacred Work,  
Reducing Sin, and Sin's unlucky Fruits again.  
The Love of Gold shall yet enslave Mankind,  
And to vexatious Cares and Labours bind.  
Some to the toilsome Plough shall yoked be,  
And others travel through the Pathless Sea,  
Pride and Ambition still shall reign,  
And Princes to the Wars their People train;  
And foolish Men their Wits shall slain  
T'invent more dreadful Engines still  
The Life of Innocents' to spill.   

VI  
But when thy glorious Body shall receive  
It's perfect growth, it's full increase,  
All Pain and Labour than shall cease.  
The Mariner the stormy Sea shall leave:  
Of Traffic there shall be no further need,  
For every Land shall all things useful breed,  
With Ploughshares torn, the Earth no more shall be  
The labouring Ox shall then go free;  
Nor shall the tender Vine by cutting bleed,  
The Dyers feigned Art shall useless lie:  
Instructed Nature shall the Place of Art supply.  
Thy Flocks shall precious Colours freely bear,  
Some Azure Wool, and some shall Scarlet wear.  
Soft to the Touch, and to the Eye more fair  
Than Persian Silks, or Tyrian Hangings are:  
And all thy Lambs shall yield a golden Fleece,  
Richer than that at Colchos, sought by all the Youth of Greece.  
So Heaven decrees, so Prophecies relate;  
This blessed Change we all expect from thy resistless Fate.   

VII.  
Come mighty Prince the Time draws near,  
Thou, God's beloved Son, heavens shining Crown,  
Thou Joy of Angels hasten down:  
The sinful Earth to visit do not sear;  
Thy Presence will create its own Heaven every where.  
See how the heavens, the Earth, and spacious Sea  
Beneath the Weight of Sin and Vanity  
Do groan and pant, 
Rom. 8. 19 12.  and long for thee,  
Who art ordained their great Deliverer to be.  
See how they smile with secret Joy,  
Stretch forth their Necks, and raise their Heads on high.  
O might I live to see that Joyful Day,  
When freed from Sin and Vanity,  
Both Heaven and Earth renewed shall be,  
And re-obtain their sweet and ancient Liberty!  
When the last Fire shall purge their Dross away,  
But leave the Substance still behind,  
(Like precious Gold) more rich and more refined, 
2. S. Pet. 3. 12. 13.   
No more obnoxious now to Bondage or Decay.  
When, Sin and Malice driven down to Hell,  
(Their native Place, their ancient Home,  
From whence they never more shall come)  
Just Men and meek in endless Bliss on the new  
Earth shall dwell. 
Mat. 5. 5.   
O might I live thy noble Acts to tell!  
Doubtless that glorious Subject will inspire  
Thy Servant's Breast with such exalted Fire,  
That the blessed Spirits, and th'immortal Choir  
Shall listen to my Verses, and admire  
To hear Angelic Songs breathed from an human Lyre.     


HICATHRIFT: DUELLUM, SIVE PUGNA Singularis INTER Juvenem quendam fortissimum, Cui NOMEN HICATHRIFT, ET GIGANTEM Ferocissimum, Qui publicos Agros (vulgò Marshland Smee) occupaverat, atque Incolas, magnâ cum bonorum jacturâ sedes suas mutare coegerat.  Vicit amor Patriae—  

HICATHRIFT.  

ILLE ego, qui molli nuper labefactus amore  
Carmina deslevi teneris placitura puellis,  
Securus Famae, & nil pulchrae Laudis avarus:  
Consilia in melius referens nunc laetor amarum  
Excussisse jugum Cervice; novoque Furore  
Afflatus non jam venerem, sed servida martis  
Arma, virumque cano, Patriam qui primus ab Hoste  
Eripuit, capitisque sui discrimine Postem  
Depulit à Sociis; magnum & memorabile factum,  
Nostra suas dignè Laudes si dicere possit  
Musa, nec ingenium superent certamina tanta.   

Non procul urbe jacet Lennâ ditissima frugum, 
Lyn.   
Et pecorum Regio; veteres haud nomine vano  
(Quippe Mari juxta Madidam) dixere Palustrem. 
Marshland.   
Oceani (ut prohibent) ereptam faucibus olim  
Romani valido cinxerunt aggere Terram,  
Quem sumptu nimio, magnoque labore Nepotes  
Sufficiunt, Pelagique minas tali arte repellant:  
Ni facerent, ruptis subitò (sua jura reposcens)  
Irrueret Portis, pecudesque domosque per undas  
Spargeret, atque iterum qua nunc armenta vagantur,  
Pasceret immanes Proteus sub Gurgite Phocas.   

Hujus ad occiduam fundit se plurima partem 
The Smeth, vulgò the Smee.   
Planicies, spacio lateque extenditur amplo.  
Vere novo, quando aura tepet, Zephyrique benigni  
Aspirant, Flores varios & Graminis herbam  
Sponte sua felix, nulloque subacta colono  
Fundit humus, pariter Nares ac Lumina pascens.  
Hic jucunda apibus Cerinthe, hic aurea floret  
Primula, quaeque nives superant candore recentes  
Lilia, cum violis & purpureo Narcisso.  
Hos inter vario Pecudes certamine ludunt,  
Innocuae pascuntur oves; pulchraeque juvencae  
In fera sollicitant animosos Praelia Tauros●  
Lambit eum glaucâ praecinctus arundine ripas  
Ousa pater, pecori qui fundit pocula laeto.  
Denique tota nitet, Coelo gratissima, & omnes  
Exuperat longè terras: jam frigida Tempe  
Amplius haud jactent Authores Carmine, jamque  
Desinat Elysios mirari Graecia campos.   

Ast olim deserta situ, multoque jacebat  
Obruta squallore, & sylvestribus horrida dumis  
Nec pecori Pastum, nec iter praebebat eunti.  
Quiqpe ferunt illic (si ritè audita recordot)  
Immanem sibi speluncas posuisse Gigantem,  
Exortum (ut memorant) saevorum sanguine Fratrum,  
Qui conjurati Coelum rescindere, montes  
Montibus augebant, donec dubitare Deûm Rex  
Inciperet (Pulsi nam conscius ille Parentis  
Nè Coelum eriperent, male partáque Regna timebat.)  
Non glebam rastris domuit, nec pascere tauros,  
Lanigerosve greges agitare, hirtasve capellas  
Cura fuit: verum ex alieno vivere, fidens  
Viribus ipse suis, operasque solebat agrestum  
Diripere immittis, & opimas vertere praedas.  
Ah! Quoties laetas segetes (sua vota) colonus  
Calcari vidit, vel in horrea abire Tyranni!  
Ah! Quoties abigi taurorum corpora pastor  
Balantumque greges, abjectâ, flevit, avenâ!  
Diffugiunt populi confestim, & dulcia linquunt.  
Arva, nec assuetis sese committere ripis  
Audent; sed longis repetunt ambagibus Urbes,  
Qua via tuta pater. Tantus timor occupat omnes.   

Non tulit hoc Monstrum, nec de regione viarum  
Deflecti notâ voluit Mavortius Heros,  
Angligenûm Decus, ipsum Hicathrift cognomine dicunt.  
Hic Patriae damnis, Laudumque cupidine tactus  
Accipit ingentes animos, in utrumque paratus,  
Seu terris (modo Dii faveant) avertere pestem  
Infandam, seu praesenti succumbere morti.   

At non armatus clypeo, non ille bipennem  
Caelatam tulit argento, galeamve nitentem  
Aptavit capiti, neque sic ad praelia venit.  
Sed vultum Aurigae induitur, vocemque coloremque  
Et crassum filo sagulum, manibusque flagellum  
Increpitans, egit deserta per avia Plaustrum.  
Sic prodibat, equos sonituque manuque lacessens,  
Castigatque moras, vocem cum protinus hausit  
AEtnaeus Frater, lato qui forte sub antro  
Carpebat somnos, epulis expletus inemptis.  
Quin statim exiluit, telumque immane coruscans,  
Ingens, arboreum (quod vix cervice subirent  
Sex Juvenes lecti) Puero obveniebat inermi,  
Quem prior aggreditur dictis, sicque increpat ultro.   

Quisquis es, audacem qui nostra ad maenia gressum  
Dirigis, & placidam turbâsti voce quietem,  
Haud impunè feres: Haec te mox virga docebit  
(Sed nimium serò) nostrum irritare furorem.  
Ah demens! Quae te ceperunt taedia vitae?  
Huc ades, ut primo contusum verbere corpus  
Projiciam canibus, nigroque fluentia tabo  
Membra ferae rapiant volucres, & viscera lambant.  
Sic ait, insultans, dextrâque hastilia quassat.  
Horrisona; ex oculis creber micat acribus ignis.   

Ast Hicathrift vultum horendum, vocesque superbas  
Miratus stupet, atque oculos per singula volvit;  
Nunc caput aspiciens torvum, durosque lacertos,  
Nunc latos humeros, magna ossa, pedumque columnas.  
Tum sic intrepidus, Quis te miser impie vanas  
Edocuit jactare minas, nondumque peracto  
Bello, immaturos temerè celebrare triumphos?  
Si genus Humanum temnas, at magna Potestas  
Te Coeli moveat: Non huc sine numine Diuûm  
Advenio vindex, quos tu, scelerate, malignis  
Exagitas odiis, Lentosque impellis ad iras.  
Quo moriture, ruis? nec te tua Dextera, nec te  
Eripiet, Spelunca alto submota recessu.  
Dixit, & evertit plaustrum, lavaque revulsam  
Corripuit (mora nulla) Rotam; dextramque replevit  
Pro Gladio, non hos Axis fabricatus in usus.   

Jamque ineunt Pugnas. Extemplo arrectus uterque  
Constitit in digitos, & brachia tollit ad auras,  
Inque vicem caedunt, miscentur & ictibus ict us.  
Mobilitate Puer superabat, viribus impar:  
Atte minor, sed mole Gigas membrisque valebat.  
Heu! quantas dedit ille minas, & vulnera frendens  
Irrita! Quippe Rotae clypeo promptissimus Heros  
Excipit objecto, numerataque reddidit Axe.  
Attoniti longè tauri stant (furta Tyranni)  
Immemer herbarum stat Bucula, praelia longè  
Horrescens, retrò fugit ipse exterritus Amnis.   

Anceps Pugna diu; nec cui fortuna faveret  
Certum: sed nunc hic melior, nunc ille vicissim.  
At Puero tandem laetis victoria pennis  
Advolat, & curas solvit: vim suscitat ira,  
Atque iram pudor, & tam segnis Palma pudorem  
Suffundit cupienti. Ergò amens vulnere denso  
Hostem conturbat, trepidumque agit aequore toto.  
Nec mora, nec requies: quam multi littora fluctus  
In●ani feriunt, Hicathrift tot fortiter ictus  
Sparsit utraque manu pugnans, fuditque Gigantem.   

Ac velut annosam siquis de montibus ornum  
Eruat aut Quercum, nunc huc, nunc fluctuat illuc  
Et tandem crebris cadit icta securibus arbor;  
Dant gemitum Campi: vasto sic pondere Cyclops  
Concidit & rabido tellurem dente momordit.   

Accurrit Juvenis lapso, & vi servidus instat,  
Congeminatque ictus; fuso simul arva cerebro  
Inficit: Ast ille solvuntur frigore membra,  
Atque anima horrificum pavitans descendit in ornum.    

JOSEPH. GEN. 39  

I.  
NOT the Pellaean Conqueror,  
To whose insatiate restless Mind  
The spacious Globe too narrow did appear;  
It made him sweat to be so close confined;  
Nor mighty Cesar will I sing,  
Who did so many warlike Nations bring  
Under the Roman Eagles' towering Wing.  
Rough Wars, and bloody Battles seem  
For gentle Verse no proper Theme:  
The peaceful Muse, believe me, can't rejoice  
To hear the barbarous Drum, or the shrill Trumpet's Voice.  
Nor can the World Two Things so 'nlike afford  
(With Contrarieties tho' richly stored)  
As are the Poet's Pen, and Tyrant's Sword.   

II.  
Since Kings and Emperors thou dost refuse,  
I'll teach thee, my Pindaric Muse,  
What fitter Subject thou shalt choose:  
Let virtuous joseph move thy tuneful Strings;  
A greater Man than Emperors and Kings;  
joseph, who o'er himself a Conquest made,  
And by his own Affections was obeyed.  
Who subdued Vanity and Pride,  
And the whold World of Passions else beside.  
Who made the Rebel Lust to Virtue yield,  
And chased the Tyrant Beauty from the Field,  
A bolder Labour than the famed Alcides ever tried;  
Or all those royal Monsters, who amidst the state  
And glories of their prosperous Fate  
Were Slaves themselves, and very meanly Great:  
Who basely did to Womankind submit,  
And when with equal Gild and Toil  
Of many Lands they'd reaped the Spoil,  
They laid all down at an imperious Harlot's feet.  
This Bondage noble joseph scorned,  
A Youth by God and Nature so adorned  
With rich variety of Grace,  
That born he seemed of heavenly Race,  
So pure his Mind, so lovely was his Face.   

III.  
No sooner had his Mistress cast  
(A Lady beautiful and young)  
Her Eyes on him, but she began to long  
The fair and prom'sing Fruit, (like Eve) to taste.  
Yet for a while she faintly strove  
To disengage her Captive Heart:  
Some Strife there was on either part,  
But Passion did at length too hard for Virtue prove.  
Shall I (said he) forget my nuptial Vows?  
Shall I defame my Husband's noble House,  
And lose the Honour of a chaste and loyal Spouse?  
Shall I debase myself, and leave  
A Peer of Egypt, for an Hebrew Slave?  
Yet why a Slave? Not his, but Fortune's Sin,  
That partial Dame, by whom the best  
And bravest Men are most depressed,  
While the vile Sons of Earth are courted and caressed.  
Can any Thing so Charming, so Divine  
Come from a low ignoble Origine?  
His Godlike Beauty, and his Princely Mien  
Bear witness for him, that he springs  
From a long Race of ancient Kings:  
I'm sure he well deserves th'Embraces of a Queen.  
Mine is a just and noble Flame:  
There's nothing to obstruct my Joys,  
There's nothing to condemn my wel-made Choice.  
But Priest-craft, out worn Laws, and Honours empty Name.  
Well then, th'illustrious Passion I'll obey.  
Let Preachers, Laws, and Honour all give way:  
Love is a Lord more absolute than they.   

IV.  
Resolved to try, nor doubtful of Success  
(Her Wit and Beauty made her confident)  
She courts her Servant with a bold Address,  
Tells him the Story of her Love,  
And all her Charms she does display,  
And all her Beauties open lay:  
But vain are all her Arts his Inn'cence to betray,  
And all her Witchcrafts prove too weak his well-fixed.  
Mind to move.  
More generous Thoughts had prepossessed  
And strongly garrisoned his Breast.  
His Master's Kindness, and reposed Trust  
Were firm Engagements to be just.  
All things were his, but only she  
That most desired his to be:  
But joseph would not taste the One forbidden Tree  
The Love of Virtue, and the Fear of God  
So filled his Soul with sacred Fire,  
They left no room for any lewd Desire.  
His purer Flame (as Moses wondrous Rod  
Th'enchanted Serpents did devour)  
Consumed the other Passions: all their Power  
His steady Resolutions mock.  
In vain her Courtship she repeats,  
In vain she threatens and entreats:  
He equally disdains her Flatteries, and her Threats.  
Her Sighs and Tears are fruitless all;  
Those idly blow, these idly fall:  
His solid Virtue they no more can shock,  
Than Winds and Waves can rend the sure Foundations of a Rock.   

V.  
Upon what desperate Service will not Lust,  
When raging grown its blinded Bondslaves thrust?  
His stubborn Heart, so long besieged in vain,  
That to no Composition would descend,  
She now resolves by Force to bend,  
And storm the fortress which no Treaty could obtain.  
Upon the comely Youth, her furious Hands she cast,  
And impudently drew him to the Bed:  
Long Time she strove to hold him, but at last,  
He broke away, and from the lustful Siren fled.  
Go, matchless Youth, glad and triumphant go,  
And bind fresh Laurels round thy Conquering Brow:  
The Sons of War, who take Delight  
To meet their Foes in open Fight,  
Less Honour merit than is due to thee  
For daring from thine Enemy to flee.  
An everlasting Temple to thy Fame  
(If such her Power may be) my Muse has vowed to frame,  
And in it thou shalt sit enthroned on high,  
Full of Grace and Majesty.  
Beneath thy Footstool Pride and Lust shall lie,  
And all the Passions else, a long Captivity,  
Round thy Victorious Head  
A Glory shall be spread,  
And on a well-wrought Pillar by,  
In smooth and noble Verse thy Triumphs shall be read.   

VI  
Enraged to find her Labour lost  
(A Woman and a Lover to be crossed!  
She turns from Bad to Woise. Lust quits her Breast  
By Anger and Revenge, new Lords, to be possessed.  
She threatens high, and tho' her Love did fail,  
She swears her Malice shall prevail.  
His Vest, which flying, he had left behind,  
She keeps, until her Lord should come  
From th' honourable Toil of public Business, home.  
This, this (says she) my Husband's Eyes shall blind,  
And the proud Hebrew Slave shall quickly find,  
That I can be severe as well as kind.  
All drowned in Tears the spleenful Hypocrite  
Accuses joseph of that Sin,  
Of which herself had guilty been,  
And (as his Brethren did before,  
Their Treachery to cover over)  
She shows her Garment to confirm her Spite.  
The false Complaint her too fond Husband hears,  
Believes her Words, believes her artificial Tears,  
Highly commends her feigned Fidelity,  
And in a jealous Rage  
(Which nothing could assuage)  
Condemns unheard the righteous Youth  
(Regardless of his former Truth)  
In a dark Dung'on all his Days to lie.  
But God that still protects and loves the Innocent,  
To comfort him, from Heaven an Angel sent.  
Blessed Gabriel, none more kind than he  
To men renowned for Chastity,  
Assumed a Shape (like Ioseph's) pure and bright.  
The dismal Room smiled with new Beams of Light.  
And joseph trembled at the Sight;  
Till his Approach the courteous Spirit made,  
And, bowing, thus his sacred Message said.   

VII.  
Hail, peerless Youth, of God beloved,  
Tho' Men and devils conspire to blast and ruin thee,  
Yet Heaven thy well-tried Virtue has approved,  
And thou shalt soon from hence delivered be.  
Thy Fame, now deeply rooted under ground,  
Up to the Skies  
Shall shortly rise,  
And spread its flour'shing Branches all around.  
Thy Sufferings and Disgrace shall end with speed,  
And Wealth and Glory in their Place succeed.  
With Joy unspeakable thou shalt behold  
Thy Chain of Iron, changed for one of Gold.  
And thou who now liest in the lowest Pit,  
Upon a lofty Throne shalt sit,  
Advanced on high, next to great Phar'oh's side.  
And beauteous Asenath shall be thy Bride.  
A noble Race thou shalt beget,  
And what thy eldest Brother Lost 
1 Chr. 5. 1, 2.   
By Sin, thy Virtue shall obtain:  
The double Portion thou shalt gain,  
And Two illustrious Tribes to come from thee shall boast.  
None but Iudah's royal Line  
TO which ancient Prophecies confine  
The great Messiah's Birth, thy Offspring shall outshine.  
Thy Father's numerous Family,  
And all the sacred Seed shall be sustained by thee.  
And when thy glorious Race is run,  
Thou shalt to Heaven translated be,  
Where thy pure Eyes shall gladly see 
Matt. 5. 8.   
The blessed Face of God, far brighter than the Sun.  
All human Hopes thy Bliss shall there excel,  
And with chaste Spirits, like thyself, for ever thou shalt dwell.    

Amico suo D. M. F. Theoriae Burnetianae Argumentum.  

TEmpora prima Chaos, 
Chaos Gen, 1. 2.  Mundi nascentis Origo  
Vendicat. Hinc pulchrum verbo Pater evocat Orbem,  
Deliciis Orbem nullâ non-parte beatum, 
Terra primigenia, sive Paradisus. Gen. 2, 8.   
Quem merito Moses Paradisum nomine dicit.  
Hîc Ver perpetuum, florentia Sydera, rerum  
Copia, nec magnos metuêre Armenta Leones.  
Arcebat longè morbos, & mille per annos  
Produxit validam Coeli indulgentia vitam.  
Nulli tum Montes, immania Corpora, latis  
Incubuêre arvis, nec sublatuêre Cavernae.  
Nec vagus Oceanus tantum Telluris obibat.  
Dulcia faecundos saturabant Flumina Campos,  
Et Rorem bibulis hausit radicibus Herba.   

Non illis populos terrebant ulla Diebus  
Fulmina nec magnis mugitibus horruit AEther.  
Nulla satis nocuit Rubigo, aut messibus imbres.  
Hybernis placidi pai●ebant flatibus Euri:  
Intrepidè Coelo caput extulit Arbor, & omnes  
Explicuit frondes, & toto Sole potita est.  
Nec Bellum, nec Sudor erat. Deus otia secit:  
Longaevique Patres Pacem Terrámque colebant.   

Degener at soboles, 
Diluvium. Gen. 7. 11.  rebus sublata secundis,  
Flagitiis armant in sese Numinis iram:  
Nam Pater omnipotens, cum multa diúque tulisset  
(Expectans populos frustrà ad meliora vocatos)  
In paenas tardè justas exarsit, & Orbis  
Fornice disrupto, vastam patefecit Abyssum,  
Illa locum subitò medium perrupit, & omnem  
(Occurrens Nimbis, conjuncto foedere, saevis)  
Fluctibus obduxit Terram, mersitque Rebelles,   

Submotâ tandem, 
Terra hodierna.  jussu Omnipotentis, Aquae vi,  
Tristis & informis rerum consurgit imago.  
Apparent latè collapfi Rudera Mundi  
Et Chaos antiqui Natura exhorruit Umbram.  
Tum primùm Montes onerârunt pondere Terram  
Insolito, horrendae primum patuêre Lacunae.  
Acceptâque semel Lucis regione propinquae,  
Abnegat Oceanus tenebrosa revisere Regna:  
Pars manet; in caecum pars retrò est lapsa Barathrum.   

Et jam relliquias Ponti, fractique Ruinas  
Incolimus Mundi, gens dura, & nata Labori.  
Terra, ferax olim Mater, nunc deficit, & spem  
Agricolae fallit, Coelo impraegnata maligno.  
Undique bella fremunt, Pestes, Incendia, Luctus.  
Et male-suada Fames. Nec si percurrere vellem  
Nomina poenarum, quae secula nostra lacessunt,  
Sufficeret longae vel Lux aestiva Querelae,   

Impietate tamen supremi Funeris ignes 
Conflagratio. 25. Pet. 3. 10, etc.   
Urgemus miseri, & naturae fata ruentis.  
Quippe Mare & Terras, & tot Monumenta Virorum,  
Et quicquid vani mortales dulce putamus,  
Hauriet una Dies, Flammisque addicet avaris.   

At Phaenix primam, redivivus ab igne juventam  
Induct, & vultu meliore superbiet Orbis.  
Nulla mali suberunt prisci vestigia, Fructus  
Sponte feret nova Terra 
Terra nova, sive Paradisus instauratus. ibid. v. 13.  suos, & solis amico  
Florescens radio, veterem superabit Edenem.   

Ingens effractis, sanctorum turba, 
R. Prima, quae est Piorum. Apoc. 20. 5, 6.  sepulchris,  
Continuo exurget, Rerum quibus Ordo novatus  
Serviet. Hi faeili ac praesenti numine pleni  
Semper adorabunt Agnum, castisque lita bunt  
Pectoribus: 
Ib. 2, 3.  vacuique metu (Serpente ligato  
Nè veteri illudat Paradisi fraude colonis)  
Huc illuc, superûm turmis comitantibus, ibunt.   

Nil habet hic juris Cerinthi ignava propago,  
Quae Veneri & Baccho male dedita, 
Apoc. 21. 27.  vivit ad instar  
Porcorum: sed erit Mens pura in Corpore puro. 
Ephes. 5. 5.   
Nec genus aeternum Taedis reparabitur ullis; 
Luk. 20. 35.   
Absumptâ sed morte, tori quoque desinet usus:  
Angelicam caelebs imitabitur Incola vitam.  
Hîc decies centum totos Regnabitur 
Millennium beatum. Apo. 20. 6.  annos  
Auspiciis sub Christ, tuis. Queîs denique finem  
Sortitis, tumulis Gens impia surget apertis,  
Flebile judicium, ac paenas subitura perennes. 
R. secunda, sive impiorum. ibid. v. 12   
Illa quidem mallet dormire in Secula; sed non  
Vindicis ira Dei patitur, neque Buccina clangens.  
Ah! turba infelix, ad vitam reddita Letho  
Pejorem, semper Moriens, at mortua nunquam!   

Intereà Sancti sedes, 
AEternitas 1 Cor. 15 24, 28.  Te dante, capessent  
AEthereas, vultúque Dei propiore fruentur.   

At tu, nate Deo, rebus jam ritè peractis,  
Subjicies tua Regna Patri, qui sumet Habenas,  
AEternúmque reget propriis Virtutibus Orbem.   

Hos ego, Marce. tibi (non ficti pignus amoris)  
Versiculos scripsi. Nec tu leve despice Munus.  
Christus abest, passim dominantur Crimina, sacris  
Nullus honor Studiis, nec habet pia Musa Patronum.  
Ast eadem vires, Christo veniente, resumet,  
Caelicolûmque sacros meditabitur aemula Cantûs.    

Amico suo dilectissimo D. F. I. de praecedentibus POEMATIS.  
SOdalis O qui nullius indigus  
(Ut numen) uno te frueris, nimis,  
Amice, credens te beatum,  
Dum vacuâ dominaris Aulâ.  
Qui Conjugalis vincla Cubilis, &  
Commista saevis Gaudia Jurgiis  
Censes Capistrum non ferendum  
Nec Laqueum magis extimescis.  
Haec fronte laetâ suscipe Munera,  
Qucîs to fidelis donat amiculus:  
Nec pauperem dives Poetam  
Despice nec tenuem Camaenam.  
Dormire tecum, en! Juditha (Faeminas  
Odisse quamvis diceris) advolat:  
Quid abnegas? ah! quid scelesti  
Fata times Holophernis, insons?  
Non illa (non si viderit Uvidum)  
Nudabit ensem: Guadia tu feres,  
Francisce, vanâ quae Tyrannus  
Assyrius sibi ment finxit.  
Aut si virorum te capiant magis  
Laudes, in Hostem cernis ut Hicathrift  
Assurgat Heros, Patriaeque  
Perniciem perimat Gigantem.  
AEterna (me ni Musa fefellerit)  
AEterna vives secula, publicae  
Salutis Assertor: nepotum  
Te series celebrabit omnis.  
Non semper unâ volvimur Orbitâ:  
Sed nunc amaenis serpere vallibus,  
Nunc arduâ delectat alâ  
Praecipites superare Montes.  
Nunc me revolvat mollis Amator, &  
Insana discat jura Cupidinis:  
Nunc Arma, duros & Labores  
Musa docet, dubiúmque Martem.  
Mox Bella damnans, Pacis Originem  
Nascente Christo dicere gestio,  
Oracla paudens, & Sibyllae  
Carminibus dare Lumen audax.  
Quin & Calores spirat amabiles  
Mors ipsa: vultum jam nova Purpura,  
Me dante, tingil, nec timendum  
Amplius est Libitina nomen.  
O Musa dulcis! Quas ego gratias  
Referre possim? Te Duce, pallidum  
Vitabo lethum: tu Sepulchri  
Sola potes superare Legem.  
Quò Diva, tendis? Define proprias  
Sonare Laudes. Sufficiat tibi  
Si fortè missam te libenter  
Accipiat, foveátque Amicus.  
FINIS.