DIVINITY AND MORALITY IN ROBES OF POETRY: Composed for the Recreations of the Courteous and Ingenious.  
By the Author Tho. Jordan.  
Quod meus hortus habet, sumas impunè licebit,  
Si dederis nobis, quod tuus hortus habet.  
LONDON Printed by R. A.   

DIVINITY AND MORALITY IN ROBES OF POETRY. A Sacred new-year's Gift; Dedicated unto all Lovers of Christianity, Professors of Piety, and Moral Honesty.  

Preambulation.  
IF pious Gifts (by curious disquisition)  
Prove not the badge of antique Superstition;  
Or if a Rhyme, reduced to holy Reason,  
May be allowed to celebrate the season,  
And find admission in a noble heart,  
As much as they, whose Riches can impart  
Gold of Peru, or those admired works,  
That spread the Tables of Triumphant Turks.  
I hope the low Oblation of a friend  
(That only makes your fair esteem his end)  
May find (as it deserves) more grace than he  
Whose bounty is a bawd to treachery:  
My gift is made of Wishes, such as may  
(If granted) live with you, when night and day  
Admit of no distinction: perfect bliss  
Is now my theme, and that I wish is this.   

The New years Gift.  
A New Soul blanched in sin-dissolving tears,  
And pious promises for future years,  
Possess your mortal Mansion, may no Times  
Witness the guilt of our reacted crimes:  
May you disband your bosom Sins, and be  
Atoned with God's immortal Monarchy:  
Although each day ye pay (in sighs and groans  
Your penitential contributions:  
May the red Rain which our rude wrath let fall  
In numerous showers of vengeance National,  
Be all washed out, and may religion's fame  
In England, bear but one celestial Name:  
May all those desperate distinctions that  
Have made our Island much unfortunate,  
Be so composed by Religious Laws,  
That rigour may no more dispute the Cause:  
For (I confess to my intelligence,  
That hath relation but to common sense)  
It is a Paradox, that all the wise  
Holy and Learned in large mysteries,  
Of Church and State, that in convention sit  
Crowned with the Genius of a Nation's wit,  
With all the aids that Art and Nature can  
Contract within the circuit of man,  
Should slight the Helm and let the people's fate  
Be left unto the raging storms of state;  
Such is a Civil War, whose fury vents  
Artillery, instead of Arguments;  
As if the Holy Ghost (Spirit of Love)  
That once descended like a Turtle Dove:  
Should now resign his function, and appear  
Like a devouring Vulture: may this year  
Register no such Apparitions, but  
May all tranquillity (that God ere put  
Into the Power of union, on a Nation  
Received to Grace by true Humiliation)  
Fall on your Souls, may a New Spring of tears  
Renew your Graces, Health, Wealth, Beauty, Years:  
And may your fair Posterity ne'er know  
The wild Confusion of our modern woe;  
May Peace and verity (Conjoined in Glory)  
Crown the Conclusion of our tragic Story,  
May Schism sink, and Truth be held supreme,  
(Whose Robe of Sanctity hath ne'er a seam)  
And let that fool which well deserves the Rod,  
For saying in his heart there is no God;  
Be better principled, for he speaks Treason,  
Not only 'gainst Religion but Reason▪  
May the gross mists of error be dispeled,  
That curious heresies (so hotly held)  
May be displayed, for then the radiant Beams  
Of righteousness will dissipate their dreams,  
Let nothing enter in your hearts, but what  
The Holy Spirit doth communicate  
By sacred Law and Gospel; what is writ  
I● them, we must obey, what not, omit:  
May you be charitable, yet live free  
From any Popish censure; may you be  
filled with firm faith, not that which yields the Turks  
Pre-eminence, before ye in good werks:  
May you believe, God's stock of mercy is  
Larger than all men's crimes, yet let not this  
●●●ffess ye with such warrant of salvation,  
To think one sin may not destroy a Nation:  
May you believe that the Apostles Creed  
(Which some late Novelists forbear to read)  
Is of such power, that you without it are  
Farther from bliss, than Saints from Civil War.  
Let God's own Prayer be your daily task,  
For it contains all that we ought to ask:  
Those deprecations sum up every want,  
And whatsoever God is pleased to grant:  
〈◊〉 that Petition cannot be ill writ,  
When he that made it, means to answer it.  
Let not bright gospel's Exposition be  
A Lock and Key to its own mystery:  
What Scripture hath begun, let Scripture finish,  
Who comments false, doth both add and diminish;  
Which is a fearful crime, may you be free  
From such transgression, may Divinity  
Illuminate your Intellect; may no  
Fallacious disputations overthrow  
The Pillars of your Piety, or make  
The Fundamentals of your Faith to shake.  
When these effects (for which I pray) appear,  
You will confess it is a good New-year;  
For if all come to pass which I have said,  
'Tis the best New years-Gift that e'er you had.   

On forgetfulness in holy Duties.  
FOrgetfulness can be no Plea for folly,  
For God commands, Remember thou keep holy.   

On the Heart.  
OUr God requireth the whole heart, or none,  
And yet he will accept a Broken one.   

On rash judgement.  
CAll not thy Brother Reprobate, for sure  
Where God will heal, there is no wound past cure.   

On an Evil Tongue.  
THe Tongue as well as Hand, deep wounds affords,  
there's but one Letter betwixt Swords and words.   

A Dialogue betwixt the Flesh, and the Spirit.  Fle. 
COme prithee leave this reading; let me hear  
Some jests, or want on tales, then shall my ear  
Be linked unto your Oratory, now  
I am so dull, and drowsy, that (I vow)  
I can no more give audience, what dost call  
This petty Book thou art so pleased withal?  (Spi.) 
It is the cure of souls, and it contains  
Our life or death, our glory, or our pains,  
Here's the great Law of God, where man may view  
What he ought most to covet, most eschew;  
The glass of purity, where mighty Kings  
Behold their bodies to be earthen things;  
And (with the wisest wise man) loudly cry,  
All worldly honours are but vanity:  
Here is thy first Creation, where 'tis shown  
How thou and I first met, and joined in one;  
This shows the state we lived in, how we were  
Blessed with the plenty of a pregnant year  
The Husbandman ne'er toiled for: there we knew  
No hate, no strife, nor where black Malice grew:  
We had no envious Neighbours, but were free  
From doing, or receiving injury;  
The Beasts were made your subjects; and as true  
Unto each other, as they were to you:  
They had no Civil Wars, no envy neither,  
For Wolves & Lambs might eat their meat together:  
They lived secure within their proper holes,  
And Lions did disdain to tread on Moles:  
This was thy Paradise, where all was free  
Unto thy use, but one excluded Tree;  
Where thou hadst lived till now, had God's Command  
Prevailed with thee before the woman's hand:  
Under what misery doth poor man groan,  
When as the flesh must suffer for the bone?  
This is the Bible which I read; by this  
I hope to tread the perfect path to bliss.  Fle. 
What kind of bliss I pray?  Spi. 
Heaven.  Fle. 
What's that?  Spi. 
A City built for the Regenerate:  
So situate, that neither Sun nor Moon  
Need rise or set to make it night or noon:  
They both are useless, light and brightness there,  
Are not confined in Centre, or in Sphere:  
Each Angel's face is more resplendent fair,  
Then Phoebus when he guilds the Western air:  
The sacred Citizens do never fear  
The furious famine of a fruitless year,  
They live in such sweet plenty; and where none  
Need fly the City from infection;  
there's no defraud, no greedy great man plies  
The good King's ear for base Monopolies,  
For his peculiar gain; the poorer sort  
Ne'er suffer for the Riot of the Court.  
This is that place of Bliss, who more would know,  
Must first crave Faith, he may believe it so:  Fle. 
The place is fraught with Glory; there is more  
Essential joy, than I e'er heard before:  
But, tell me one thing (pray) May we not there  
Enjoy our Mistresses, as we do here?  
Kiss and embrace them? May we not drink high?  
Swagger and roar?  Spi. 
No, 'tis Impiety.  
'Tis that which ruins Earth; when you are there  
You'll feel no spark of such profane desire,  
That's no true heaven, but a feigned one,  
By Mahomet in his black Alcoron.  Fle. 
Thou know'st (dear Spirit) that I long have loved  
Fair Jesabel.  Spi. 
An Harlot most ayproved.  Fle. 
A sweet unblemished Beauty, in each eye  
An Angel sits.  Spi. 
Beware Idolatry.  Fle. 
Shall I not meet her there?  Spi. 
Yes, if from me  
Ye both will take advice.  Fle. 
Most willingly.  Spi. 
Repent.  Fle. 
What's that?  Spi. 
A thing ye both must know;  
Or else nor you, nor she can thither go:  
Join both your hands, then (with as great desire  
As e'er ye met) disjoin, part, and retire:  
Weep, sigh, and wring your hands, not that ye part,  
But 'cause ye met together.  Fle. 
Oh! my heart!  Spi. 
It must be done, then to your Chambers go  
To Kne●le, and Pray ye may continue so;  
Now she seems fair, but than you'll think her fowl  
As is an Aethiop, both in face and Soul.  Fle. 
Not for a thousand worlds, these Eyes I wear  
I cherish cause they tell me she is fair;  
For nothing I adore th' Omnipotence  
Of my Creator, more than this one sense,  
Which shows her Beauty, and so much I prize,  
That I could wish all senses else were Eyes:  
Had Argus seen this object, Sleep had never  
Gave Hermes power to make him sleep for ever:  
Not though his oaten reed were as acute,  
In Art and sweetness as Apollo's Lute;  
When underneath his lovely Daphne he  
Sat sweetly warbling forth her elegy.  Spi. 
He whom you do adore, for that one sense  
Disposed it not unto that End, from thence  
Ne'er came an ill effect, He ne'er gave eyes  
To be adulterate with idolatries.  Fle. 
Now let thy resolution be as free  
To answer one thing I shall question thee;  
I'll tell thee how thy counsel thrives.  Spi. 
Say on,  
I freely grant thee my attention.  Fle. 
'Tis thus then, may not some familiar friend  
Convey my mind in Letters?  Spi. 
To what end?  
'Tis ill to think on her, would you reveal  
Your sinful thoughts, under your Hand and seal?  
Think (when you are a happy Convert) how  
The fatal Legend will discourage you.  Fle. 
Then Jesabel farewell; Oh! how her Name  
Creates in me an unexpiring flame,  
'Tis a strange Riddle I should part with thee,  
And from thy presence find felicity,  
A thing I will not credit, therefore cease  
Vain Spirit; so to interrupt the peace  
twixt me and my fair Love, I will be gone  
To reunite my first affection:  
Tell fools your tales of heaven, all is hell,  
That doth not appertain to Jesabel.   

Spirit alone.  
THus am I daily hurried to and fro,  
From vice to vice, still am I forced to go  
With him to each lewd practice, Thou whose might  
Is most Omnipotent and infinite,  
Send me a guard of virtues, such as are  
Perfect, and powerful for a Civil War.  
Faith, thou shalt be my General, and lead  
My warlike Troops, thou on sure ground dost tread:  
Let us march on then, victory is sure,  
When as the Lord of Hosts makes all secure;  
Prepare thee Flesh, I come to war, not woo,  
Although thou bring the world and devil too;  
And e'er this sacred battle we conclude,  
Thy might, or mine, or both, shall be subdued.   

An acrostic on my very worthy friend Mr. Mark WARD.  
May all the real joys that can appear  
Within the Circle of the next new year  
Attend your wish; may no true pleasures be  
Above the reach of your capacity:  
Religion guard your Conscience, may your health  
Replenish; may you wallow in your Wealth:  
Knowledge support you, may you never vow  
Divided Love; and when soever you  
Enter the List of Wedlock; may that prize  
Be loving, virtuous▪ young, rich, fair, and wise.   

An Epitaph in an acrostic, composed on the Name of his virtuous Sister Mrs. Joan Ward.  
In this plain piece of humble earth lies one,  
Whom no unworthy feet should tread upon,  
One whose chaste life did very much improve  
A daughter's duty, and a sister's love:  
Almighty God was still her contemplation,  
Religion was her da●ly recreation;  
Nothing came in her Maiden thoughts that could  
Defile the Fountain of her Virgin blood;  
Eternal joys contain her now; let's then  
Mourn, until we meet with her again.   

An elegiac, in a double acrostic, sacred to the memory of the most truly virtuous Mrs. MARGARET JESSOP, wife to the much honoured WILLIAM JESSOP Esq. who deceased the first of November, 1651.  
Mourn, or depart, for they whose cheeks be dry,  
Are not for our confluent company  
All that we talk is tears; and when we see  
One smile, we look upon't like heresy  
Reader, within this Marble Mansion lies  
A motive would make tears in Tyrants eyeS  
Grief would become their Mistress, they would dress  
Themselves in nothing but unhappinesS  
All the small virtues God did ere bestow  
On womankind, lies here in FoliO  
Religion was her Pilot, and her prop,  
From whose sententious tongue did always droP  
Eternal Language; such as Angels sip  
In sighs and Prayers from a Convert's LiP  
To speak her larger, he that further dives,  
Must Summon in all the Superlatives.   

The CHARACTER of a Corrupt statesman, that is solely devoted to self-ends, But pretends to Piety.  
A Corrupt Statist is a thing in whom  
There is contract all evil that can come:  
The soul of Satan in a Saint's disguise,  
The grand Elixir of Hypocrisies:  
The secret Issue of long-lurking spite,  
The Prince of darkness in a robe of light.  
His tongue is tipped with Mercy, but his Maw  
(If he be moved) disgorgeth Golgotha:  
He is the root of ruin, Mischief's Mint,  
The Alcharon put in Geneva print;  
The saddest object Peace can fix her eyes on,  
Whose Prayers are pistols, and his Tears are poison▪  
He hath (if the old maxim do not miss)  
Judas his soul by Metempsychosis:  
And (that it may profoundly be undone)  
Can kiss a Country to confusion:  
To that point where Ambition doth conduct,  
All Evil shall assist, no blood obstruct:  
He is the people's Servant in esteem,  
But (in effect) they are all Slaves to him:  
He hath a veil to varnish every vice  
He doth commit, but monstrous Avarice;  
That sin is so gygantick, all his wit  
(Put in pretences) cannot cover it:  
As AEsop's Cat transformed into a Maid,  
Sat simpering at Supper, unbetrayed,  
Till (by unusual chance) a Mouse she saw  
Cross o'er the Board, than she began to claw:  
So is his nature sleeked with soft applause,  
Till Pride or Profit make him spread his paws:  
From him all sly dissimulations issue,  
His loins bear sackcloth when his heart wears tissue▪  
He seems to pray and unto God alone,  
Though (in his heart) he doth believe there's none.  
Where he bears rule, that Nation needs no Rod,  
He is a devil in the Name of God.  
Attend, and you shall hear him (though in brief)  
Rehearse the Articles of his Belief.   

The Politician in Person.  

greatness is summum bonum; to be high  
Tempted the Angels in their Clarity  
(Creatures to whom the Sun is but a Shade  
Before that Sin had Birth, or Man was made)  
Nor could this lust of optimacy miss  
Innocent Adam in his Genesis;  
Then though our blood to Thrones cannot advance,  
We have Ambition by inheritance:  
If to be Great be the best thing we know,  
No Actions are amiss that make us so;  
Since to be High is that all men intend,  
No matter by what steps we do ascend.  
That Man that hates a rising statesman, would  
O're-top his highest Neighbours if he could,  
And cares not if vast Families do fade  
By him with Suits of Law and tricks in Trade:  
He will seize Houses though he can't take towns,  
'Tis the same Crime for Compters as for crowns:  
A Prince's Throne is chained as much to chance,  
As is the meanest Man's inheritance.  
Nature itself, our most indulgent Mother,  
Doth ruin one thing to erect another;  
Observe the flux and reflux of the Ocean,  
Progress and regress are the soul of motion:  
Can it be ill to climb the highest seat,  
Since Men are Good, on purpose to be Great?  
Why should those Causes merit our neglect  
Whose subtle series reach to the effect?  
Or if our fortunes would not have us high,  
Why then do all Concurrences comply?  
If it be not the destiny's intents  
To make us Great, why have we great Events?  
Councils, and arms, in strange Meanders flow,  
Yet meet, sure Providence would have it so:  
Though Mariners can Ship and Tackling find  
Fit to set sail, they cannot raise a wind:  
The Gamester boldly doth his hand advance  
To throw the Die, but cannot guide the Chance:  
This (well promised) what is done, must be  
By an inevitable destiny;  
The wisest man that ever was writes thus  
In his sublime Ecclesiasticus:   

Ecclus. 1.5.  
How many Kings have on the ground sat down,  
And one ne'er thought upon hath worn the crown?  
How comes it then to be a lineal Function,  
By right of blood made consecrate with unction?  
This trick was hatched by some great Monarch's Minion  
To blind the world, but I am of opinion  
None doth more fitly fill a chair of State,  
Than he that is anointed by his Fate.    

The Author.  
THis is his Creed, and all that do oppose  
This (although God and Angels) are his Foes;  
But stay (if fancy fail not) sure I see  
A reverend Doctor in theology,  
Approach his Presence, who doth look upon  
His Pride with holy indignation:  
If he do speak to him, we soon shall see  
How Policy and Piety agree.   

The Doctor.  
PRoud politician, whither wilt thou fly  
With thy imperious Impiety?  
Dost think a Cable made of twisted sands  
Can Anchor thee against Almighty hands?  
Dar'st thou believe thy Machiavellian Arts  
Can veil thee from the searcher of all Hearts?  
He doth make war against God's sacred seat,  
Who treads upon the good to make him Great:  
The Civil War of Heaven did foretell,  
Men shall not rise by that which Angels fell:  
Methinks those Powers thy strength hath overthrown,  
Should tell thee so obnoxious are thy own;  
What man is he that can in such Seas swim,  
Where one or other dares not follow him,  
And sink him too? In our Morality  
We take it for an Axiom, that he  
Who pulls Superiors down, to raise his fame,  
Shows his own Servants how to do the same:  
If this will not suffice, but still your eye  
Mounts to (that Sphere of Mischief) Majesty;  
Look on Eternity, and well revise  
The vile Gradations, which make such men rise:  
The usual steps of Corrupt statesmen are  
Envy, Pride, Wealth, hypocrisy, and war,  
Covetousness, Oppression, Tyranny:  
And all these cemented with Perjury,  
Painted with Piety, but how they are  
In opposition, Scripture will declare.   

Envy.  

James 3.16.  
WHere Envy and seditious strife doth lurk,  
Confusion is, and every evil work.   

James 3.17.  
The wiseome that descendeth from Above  
Is filled with Peace, with Purity, and Love:   

James 3.15.  
Envy, Strife, Malice, though they serve your wish,  
Are earthly, sensual, and devilish.    

Pride.  

Porverbs 16.19.  
AN humble spirit better is allowed  
Than to divide a rich spoil with the proud.   

Ecclus. 10.12.  
When Man begins to make Pride his Partaker,  
He doth depart from God, turn from his Maker.   

Prov. 10.18.  
When fierce destruction follows to hellgate,  
Pride doth most commonly preambulate.    

Riches.  

Prov. 23.4. Luke 16.13.  
LAbour not to be rich, Wealth is a rod,  
You cannot serve at once Mammon and God.   

1 John 2.15.  
The Love of God doth not in that soul move,  
Who for this World forsakes the God of Love.   

Luke 6 24.  
Woe to ye Rich, where will ye seek Salvation,  
When God says ye have had your Consolation?    

Hypocrisy.  

Math: 23.27.  
Woe to you Hypocrites whose sin appears  
Like dead men's bones in silver Sepulchers.   

Matthew 23.  
I send ye Prophets but you do belie 'um.  
And with your Power, kill, Scourge, and crucify 'um.   

Matthew 23.33.  
Ye Serpents, Vipers, how can ye expel  
The wrath of God, and free your souls from Hell?    

War.  

James 4.1.  
FRom whence comes War and wrath? are they not embers  
Of lawless lusts that war within your members?   

Prov. 16.32.  
That man hath more of wisdom, Power, and Pity,  
Who rules his wrath, than he that takes a City.   

Prov. 28.17.  
He that doth violence unto the blood  
Of any man, shall perish in the flood.    

Covetousness.  

1 Thes. 2.5.  
PAul calls God witness that he never spoke  
With flattering words, nor wore a Covetous Cloak   

Ecclus. 10.9.  
A Covetous man doth in all evils roll.  
For such a one makes sale of his own soul.   

1 Cor. 6.10.  
When God will execute without Reprieves,  
He puts the Covetous among the Thieves.    

Oppression.  

Prov. 22.2. and 23.10.  
ROb not the poor, nor grieved soul oppress,  
And do not take Fields from the fatherless.   

1 Thes. 4 6.  
He that will go beyond, or doth defraud  
His Brother, is by God himself out lawed.   

Malac. 3.5.  
God will destroy that Soul which takes delight  
To turn away the Stranger from his right.    

Tyranny.  

Pro. 28.15.  
UNrighteous Rulers, holy writ compares  
To roaring lions and to ranging bears.   

Prov. 29.2.  
The People joy when men rule with compassion,  
But wicked Magistrates destroy a Nation.   

Prov. 30.22 23.  
Two things there are which make the Earth to groan,  
A fatted fool, A Servant in the Throan.    

Perjury.  

Leviticus 19.12.  
THou shalt not make thy maker's name to be  
A Covenant to cover falsity.   

Deut. 23.21.  
When thou wouldst vow a vow to God, first weigh it,  
Then (though it be unto thy loss) obey it.   

Zech. 5 4.1.4.  
Good Zechariah (in the flying Roll)  
Saw that the perjured Man would lose his soul.    

The Doctor.  
THus have I shown the nature of those sins  
That move his imploration, who begins  
To wear forbidden Purple, without these  
He cannot sail through the swelling seas  
Of Prince's Power, and Popular applause;  
For though he bear Religion and the laws  
In his Main top, yet shall his Anchor be  
Cast in the oozes of self-security.  
Envy stirs us, Pride prompts, Riches invite,  
hypocrisy calls faction to the sight.  
War wins the victory, covetousness  
Says ye must beggar those whom ye suppress.  
Oppression, and grim Tyranny proclaim  
A legal Conquest in the victor's Name,  
Which perjury will justify, this tract  
Doth lead him to the end of the fourth Act:  
What shall ensue, that Power can only tell  
Whose Love, and Vengeance doth fill heaven and Hell.   

The Author.  
A Sad Conclusion if this Composition  
Be the ingredients of a Poltitian;  
Lord let my spirit fly with humble wings,  
And I shall be able to pity Kings.   

On Ambition.  
WHen bold Ambition seeks a Nation's ruin,  
Pride little thinks what vengeance is a brewing.   

On Peace.  
THe People cry aloud when wars increase,  
They must needs cry that cannot hold their peace.   

On these civil wars.  
GOD is the Potter, we the Pots, dear Brother,  
'tis sin that breaks us one against another.   

On our Saviour, his being called the Carpenter.  
CHrist was, they say, a Carpenter by birth,  
But a great Workman; He built Heaven & Earth.   

A Paraphrase upon the Pater Noster,  

PRotect us, Lord, from that profane Imposter,  
That would persuade us from out Pater noster   

In what a wretched State that commonweal is,  
That is misled from thee Qui es in Caelis,   

Christ's Spouse is lovely, Christians should entreat her  
With sighs, not swords, and sing— Sanctificetur   

Who so prevaricate from this endue'um,  
Good Lord, with Grace to worship— Nomen tuum.   

Great commonwealths must fall if thou pursue 'em,  
When States displease thee— Veniat Regnum tuum.   

What private Plots, or public Power dare fly at  
The Lord of Hosts? whose battle-word is— Fiat   

What is man's strength if thou dost not renew a  
Right heart in him to do— Voluntas tua,   

We are but Men, none but an Angel's fellow  
Can lead a life on Earth— Sicut in Caelo,   

The Pious poor complain, they who refresh 'em,  
Shall, when they want, from thee have— ita etiam   

He that would Heaven gain must not defer a  
Work of such Piety, whilst he's— In terra.   

Thy Saints are succourless, unless we foster 'em,  
How can we beg at thy hands— Panem nostrum   

Nor let us hate our Enemies, but gain 'em  
With acts of worthiness— Quotidianum   

Though men afflict us both in soul and body,  
Yet Lord, thy sustenance— Da nobis hodie,   

Truth dwells not always where the Purple Robe is,  
Then grant us mercy— Et remit nobis   

We all have felt thy strokes, but who dares foster a  
Misapprehension? 'Tis not— Debita nostra,   

Oh! Let the Enemies no longer cross  
The truth, but mend their lives— Sicut & nos   

Let us no longer be afflicted thus,  
But let our foes proclaim— Remittimus   

Free our obliged Lands where each impostor is  
Master of all, but— Debitoribus nostris.   

Into their paths, who for our zeal rebuke us,  
Let us not enter— Et ne nos inducas   

Satan usurps, Lord let us disenthrone him,  
Or we shall ever be— In tentationem,   

Let not the world and flesh thy Servants swallow,  
Sweet are their baits— Sed libera nos à malo,   

And grant us such an union, that when  
This Prayer is said, we all may cry— Amen.    

To an unnatural Elder Brother that beguiled him of his Portion.  
WEll may a strangers fatal hand annoy us,  
When our own blood conspireth to destroy us;  
Hadst thou no other way to gain from me  
The livelihood of my Posterity,  
But by a father's sudden fall, to raise  
Thy riches from the dust of my decays?  
It is not well, nor can have good event,  
For 'tis an ill exceeds all precedent.  
Jacob had Esau's birthright, but he gave  
Him porridge for his Portion, thou wouldst have  
All mine for nothing; dost thou think that God's  
Justice can prosper such unequal odds?  
Or dost thou think that younger Brothers have  
No title, but to ruin, and the Grave?  
You are deceived, and you ere long will be  
Mistaken in my birthright, as in Me.  
To force a Brothers Right (if understood)  
Is like the taking of a brother's Blood.   

An alarm in 1645.  

1.  
BRing a Light, The Foe's in fight;  
Pray thee forgive me,  
That I must thus leave thee in the Night;  
My Bliss, Take this, and this,  
Sleep well, I'll keep till  
My happy return, a parting kiss,  
Thou wouldst free my life from fears,  
Yet thy wet Eye  
Drowns me with tears,  
Wipe those fair pearls from thine eye,  
And hear thy soldier's  
Lullaby.   

2.  
Sweet sleep, lie still my dear,  
Dangers be strangers  
For ever, unto thy eye or ear  
No sounds, or woe for wounds,  
Number thy slumbers,  
Or dare to approach within thy bounds;  
But such Songs as Seraphs sing,  
Which move by Love  
Unto their King.  
That thy sight, touch, taste, or smells  
May say, all joy  
In hearing dwells.   

3.  
And when thou wakest again,  
Fortune importune  
Thy senses to see us happy Men,  
— That we may so agree,  
Dangers of strangers  
May never destroy our Unity:  
So shall Peace ascend her Throne,  
For than each man  
May claim his own;  
We like raging seas will run,  
That meet and fight,  
Then flow in one.   

4.  
So shall all sweet joys content thee,  
That air, Earth, or sea affords,  
Tables shall be spread with plenty,  
Sickles shall be made of swords:  
Horses shall no more wear Armour,  
That were plundered from the Plow,  
Whilst the doubtful frighted Farmour,  
Questioned is, For whom are you?   

5.  
Private jars shall be relinquished,  
Every man shall have his own.  
Thine and mine shall be distinguished,  
And no Seeds of sorrow sown;  
Comfort come to all maintainers,  
That were frighted back with frowns,  
Governors no more be gainers,  
Which are now the Kings of towns.   

6.  
Mountains shall no more grow myrish  
With so many noble bloods,  
Fickle French and idle Irish  
That come over for our Goods,  
And have had so much enjoyment  
In the ruin of the Land,  
Shall be set to fit employment  
By the power of strong Command.   

7.  
Bulwarks than shall all the slighted  
To let in our Trades increase,  
Church and State shall be united  
'Tis the Paradise of Peace;  
Merchants fear no naval dangers  
Or from their own Colours go,  
But hold free Commerce with strangers,  
Neighbour-nations should do so.   

8.  
Midnight calls, and I must leave thee,  
This shall purchase my release,  
May not such sweet dreams deceive thee  
That pretend a prudent Peace?  
War with this dark night fly over  
And all joy rise with the Light:  
Thus thy lips with mine I cover  
One kiss more, and then Good night.    

An Elegy and Epitaph composed on the death of an Infant Lady.  
GReat King of Golgotha, grim God of fears,  
Whose Throne is made of thirsty Sepulchers,  
That (by the virtue of thy cold commands)  
Destroy'st more lives, than there be stars or sands,  
From whose cadaverous embraces, none  
Are freed until the Resurrection;  
Attend my Summons (for the powers divine  
Decree, that I must one day bow to thine)  
And tell me why thou hast employed that dart  
Which perforated Alexander's heart  
Upon this Infant Lady? whose fair eyes  
Could not but quell the keenest cruelties,  
The fiercest Tyrant that red Ireland bears,  
Might have been conquered with one smile of hers:  
Her dumb complaints would have wrought more contrition,  
Then all the reason of the best logician.  
Do but consider death what thou hast done  
Upon our Albion Isle since Forty one;  
Remember who have suffered by thy frown  
These ten years, twixt the Cottage and the Crown;  
What souls are fled, will not all these suffice,  
But thou wilt deal in Cradle cruelties?  
Methinks the mother of that fragrant bud  
(As fruitful in her virtue as her blood)  
Might have prevailed with thee, but oh I see  
No reason can reduce thy tyranny.  
Therefore we'll stop the flood of further Passion  
With this Celestial consideration;  
That though thou hast tore oft her fleshly clothing,  
Her Soul shall be a Saint, when thou art nothing.   

The Epitaph.  

1  
LAdies that are young and wise,  
Shall I tell ye of a Prize?  
Here a Box of Beauty lies.   

2  
A jewel hid from vulgar view,  
Whose excellency if you knew,  
Your eyes would drop like morning dew.   

3  
dame-natures' Diamond, which when  
She saw it was too bright for men,  
Showed it, and shut it up again.    

On the event of these Wars betwixt the Dutch and English.  
SOme are such silly Statists, that they wish  
Our English loss may fill the dutchmans' dish;  
But most of them (I know) be such as are  
A suffering Party in our Civil War:  
I feel the same disease too, but would never  
Exchange an Ague for a Burning fever.   

On those women, who pretend that poverty provoketh to inchastity.  
SHall poverty destroy us? Is the mind  
(The noble temper of the soul) confined  
To such a baseness, that we cannot be  
Ourselves, unless we hug prosperity?  
Shall we confess an Hell? conceit withal,  
There is an Heaven, where the Angelical  
Receive immortal joy? Shall we believe  
It was ordained for poor ones, such as grieve  
In a continual want? and hourly groan  
Under the burden of affliction?  
And shall we be so senseless to agree,  
That virtuous souls can fall by poverty?  
Tell me, intemperate creatures, in what state  
Did ye salute the world at first? what rate  
Were your gay garments prized at, when you cried  
For needful coverture, no Robes for pride?  
When as the pregnant breast gave more content  
Than the prosusest Banquets ye have spent,  
Ushered with Wine and music? when nor wit,  
Nor best inventions could your palate sit?  
When all your learned Cooks could not retain  
Sufficient Art to wast your wealth in vain?  
But now the Spring of riot is drawn dry,  
Ye cannot as you would; true proverty  
Contents itself with nought, and scorns to raise  
A wretched riches by sinister ways:  
Yet this recalls not you, but makes you guess  
Ye have a warrant for your wickedness,  
For when some virtuous Soul desires to see  
The Cause ye have, you show your Poverty,  
And some small charge of Children, which you say  
You must provide for 'gainst their Marriage day:  
Thus, fed by vice, they live, when they're at Age,  
'tis your damnation, proves their Heritage:  
Admit your care be less, that y'are beguiled  
The procreated Blessing of a child,  
Your Cause is so much lesser, will you give  
Your precious Soul to make one Body live?  
Sure your kind Parents were not so unwise  
As not to teach your hands some mysteries,  
To keep your Body spotless, and preserve  
Your soul, which (of the two's most like to starve)  
Endeavour then, they're poor beyond all fear,  
That are not worth the flesh and blood they wear;  
Tell me (ye pitied Spectacles of woe)  
How will your pride, and your rich raiment show,  
When as your sordid Suitors shall proclaim  
Ye won them by an Act ye dare not name?  
When they shall tell their neighbouring Lechers how  
They wrought upon your willingness, and show  
(In their rank Ribaldry) how hot and high  
Your wantonness advanced their luxury?  
Who will conceit such a lewd thing as this  
Did ere know chastity? or that there is  
So great a virtue resident? or think  
She ever prized it, that thus low could sink?  
Not I, believe me, I'll as soon allow  
poison and Balm may from one issue flow;  
For she whom want will make a Wanton, doth  
Make foul Adultery the Nurse of Sloth.   

The proselyte.  

1  
farewell thou dearest of my Crimes,  
Be never more th' abuser of my Times,  
Lest that I curse too late  
The errors of that Fate,  
Which made me love thee;  
All ye Deities divine  
Strengthen this request of mine;  
Then may I say,  
Frail delight pass away,  
I am ruled by a Power that is above thee.   

2  
No more shall thy seducing smiles,  
Thy winning looks, or other sweet beguiles  
Have power to withdraw  
My heart from Love, by Law  
Sealed to another:  
Cupid I thy power defy,  
Thou'rt a flatte'ring Deity;  
And there are none,  
But confess thee the Son  
Of a fair, foolish, fickle wanton Mother.    

To the much honoured Pair, and most pious Preservers of Love and Loyalty in Wedlock, Mr. Nathaniel Lownes Merchant Adventurer, &c. and the perfect pattern of virtue Mrs. Melior Lownes his beloved Consort.  
MY Muse salutes ye both, who to your worth  
Devotee's her love, and holds my service forth.  
All happiness that the Celestial Powers  
Ordain for men, wait upon you and yours.  
Treasure, long life, love, liberty, and mirth  
Dwell with ye, till ye find heaven upon earth;  
True Concord be your guide, and may no passion  
On either side, provoke a separation.  
In medio consistit virtus; we  
Find in your loves a meliority:  
(Which is most permanent) what is below  
That, or above it, is too fast, or slow:  
Health, peace, and plenty, with all joys that can  
Add vigour to the noble soul of man;  
Erect your spirits, may ye never be  
Exposed to any infelicity;  
But may that God, which hath heaven for his home,  
Guide you in this world, and the world to come.  
Such are the wishes of a Servant to both your virtues; THO. JORDAN.   

On Reason.  
WOuldst thou have all things subject unto thee?  
Be subject then to reason's Monarchy;  
Thou shalt be Conqueror of many, if  
Reason may be thy Governor in chief:  
Wouldst thou command a little world? then be  
King of thyself, 'tis a safe sovereignty.   

On Henry the VIII.  
HArry the VIII. as story saith,  
Was a King so unjust,  
He ne'er did spare man in his wrath,  
Nor woman in his lust.   

An Epigram on one, who said, He lived by his wits.  
PAmphlet last week in his fantastic fits,  
Was asked how he did live, He said, By's wits:  
Pamphlet I see will tell lies by the Clock,  
How can he live upon so poor a stock?   

On Ribaldry.  
OF all detested vices, none (to me)  
Appears more vain than verbal Rihaldry:  
For he who to such talk his mind doth bend,  
Is like that dog, whose tail is at's tongues end.   

Good Wits may jump.  
A Good Wit brought unto a Stationer  
A Manuscript, that so he might prefer  
His volume to the Press; but e'er that he  
Could make a Bargain for his poesy,  
The bookseller (whose aims were for his profit)  
Desires the Author he would read some of it;  
The Writer reads some six or seven leaves,  
Which having done, the Stationer conceives  
That it was old, a strait begins to look  
(As memory led him) in a printed book,  
Lays it before our Author on the board,  
And reads the Transcript to him word for word:  
The peewit puzzled at it, begin to pump  
For an excuse, and cries, Good Wits may jump.   

On a schoolmaster.  
A Country Pedant of soul soft and silly,  
(Whose reading ne'er exceeded William Lily  
In's Ranks and Files of Substantives) began  
His Brags to a more learned Countryman,  
And said, he took a Child the other day,  
From women-tutors, which (Ere long) should say  
His grammar Rules by heart, and (in two years)  
He'd make him a good Scholar; th' other fleers,  
And tnswers him again, Come Doctor, come,  
You know that Charity begins at home.   

An Elegy and Epitaph on the deplored death of the much worthy William Barklay Esquire, one of the Aldermen of the City of London; dedicate to Mr. Hen. Barklay.  
STay, and release my wonder! you that can  
Resolve what may complete a perfect man  
So absolute, that future times may well  
Admire at, but shall never parallel;  
Let him be wise and learned, his better part  
Be richly furnished with transcendent Art;  
Let Nature be his friend, and in his mind  
Let virtues choice endowments be refined:  
He will come short of him, whose body lies  
At this time floating in his Mourners eyes;  
For in this Monument is one in whom  
Faith, Hope, and Charity●ook up their room;  
One who hath gathered virtues (since his birth)  
Enough to crown a man in heaven and earth;  
When acts of equity were in his trust,  
He ever was both merciful and just;  
The poor he pitied, but his soul would ne'er  
To vicious greatness turn Idolater:  
He had (indeed) a heart which the worst times  
Could never tempt to profitable crimes;  
His thoughts were pure, his actions free, his store  
Was made a good Exchequer for the poor;  
Though envy oft on virtue doth attend,  
He forced envy's self to be his friend:  
By this the knowing Reader well may see  
The brittle State of best mortality:  
Let man be ne'er so perfect in his parts,  
And have the accomplishments of all the Arts,  
Though he live long and well, yet shall he have  
No earthly gratulation, but a grave:  
Forbear more words (my fancy) thou'rt too weak,  
Great griefs are silent, whilst small sorrows speak:  
Although his body sleep, till the day come  
Shall reunite him to his ancient home;  
His soul is mounted on seraphic wings,  
Unto the Mansion of the King of Kings.   

The Epitaph.  

1  
WEep Reader, weep, for if we see  
Thy Fountains dry, no man will be  
Persuaded to relent for thee.   

2  
In this monumental clay  
Lies pious dust, till it obey  
The Summons of the latter day.   

3  
You that ransack earth and Skies  
For all worth which good men prize,  
Look no further, Here it lies.   

4  
Let your truer tears attend it,  
When all studious men have penned it,  
This man's Name will comprehend it;   

5  
But (to sum up all in brief)  
He whose eyes are void of grief,  
Hath a heart without belief.   

6  
HE whose soul doth not desire  
To weep before he do retire,  
Would laugh, were all the world on fire.    

On Intemperance.  
HE that devotes himself to wrath, or wine,  
Is not his own friend, and can ne'er be mine.   

On pious Poverty.  
NOne but a vicious rich man will defy  
The low estate of pious poverty.   

On vain delights.  
IN seeking to obtain delights we lose 'em,  
Dalila's lap leads not to Abraham's bosom.   

On the Eucharist.  
SEe the wide difference twixt wine and grace,  
One warms the Spirit, t'other fires the face.  
So he whose faith drinks o'th' Communion Bowl.  
Shall feel the inflammation in his soul.   

The material substance of our Creed c 〈…〉 ed in twelve lines.  
I Do believe in God, Lord of Creation▪  
And in his Son Christ Jesus (ou 〈…〉  
Conceived by the Holy Ghost, (who 〈◊〉  
Both from the Father and the Son 〈◊〉  
Born of the Virgin Mary's womb 〈…〉  
A cruel death, by Pilate crucified;  
Was dead and buried, did descend, 〈◊〉  
The third day rise on earth, next 〈…〉 one;  
From thence he'll come to judgement 〈…〉 ve  
One Church, one Spirit, and I do 〈◊〉  
Saints have Communion, Reprobates 〈…〉 n,  
Sins pardon, soul and body's Resurr 〈…〉 n.   

The ten commandments i 〈…〉 ines.  
GOd spoke these words, and 〈…〉 am thy God,  
That brought thee from the 〈◊〉 of Egypt's rod,  
And thou shalt have no other God but me,  
Thou shalt not worship any Imagery;  
Thou shalt not take my sacred Name in vain,  
The holy Sabbath day thou shalt maintain;  
Honour thy Parents, and thy days I'll further  
With length and plenty, Thou shalt do no murder:  
Thou shalt no vile Adultery commit,  
Thou shalt not steal, no nor purloin (by wit)  
Thou shalt not bear false witness 'gainst thy neighbour,  
Nor covet what is his (by right, or labour.)   

The happy estate of the Blessed, Matth. 5,  

1  
YE wealthy souls, that being poor in merit,  
Are by God's sentence allowed rich in spirit;  
Heaven is made your Kingdom, Angels be  
Your glorious guides to bliss— Blessed are ye.   

2  
You that with grief do mourn and relent,  
Bedew your cheeks, till your wet eyes are spent,  
You shall be comforted by God's Decree,  
And one day joy as much— Blessed are ye.   

3  
You that are meek and humble in your minds  
Mark what felicity your meekness finds;  
The large earth your inheritance shall be  
And heaven at the last— Blessed are ye.   

4  
You hungry thirsty souls, whose appetite  
Desires but righteousness, receive your mite,  
You shall be filled, Christ your bread will be,  
Feed and be thankful then— Blessed are ye.   

5  
You that are merciful, hope to obtain  
Mercy again, ye cannot hope in vain;  
God is your steadfast Anchor, and will he  
Leave you to shipwreck? no— Blessed are ye.   

6  
You that in mind, in heart, in soul are pure,  
Gold purged from dross, that can the touch endure,  
Happy are ye, your excellence shall see  
God's brightness face to face— Blessed are ye.   

7  
You whom vile men unrighteously revile,  
If you remain but patient all the while  
For Jesus sake, shall sure rewarded be  
More than an hundred fold— Blessed are ye.   

8  
Ye persecuted souls that suffer wrong  
For righteousness, and want a pleading tongue  
To tell your grief, your joy complete shall be,  
Your Kingdom Heaven is— Blessed are ye.   

9  
Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great  
Will your reward be from God's Mercy Seat;  
Can a rewarding Master better be,  
Than our dear Saviour Christ?— Blessed are ye.   

10  
So were the Prophets persecuted, they  
Suffered your wrongs▪ whom cruel men did slay;  
They have their saviour's bounty, then agree  
To bear their sorrows, and— Blessed are ye.    

The wretched estate of the cursed, Deut. 27.  

1  
THere is a cruel wretch, whose watchful eye  
Stands sentinel; that he (most secretly)  
Might smite his Neighbour where so ere he be,  
God's curse o'ertakes his fact— Cursed is he.   

2  
That faithless man, who for his sole defence  
Cleaves to man's frailty without care, or sense  
Of God, or his just power, let all agree  
With one consent, to cry— Cursed is he.   

3  
There is a slave so cruel and unkind,  
That will pervert the footsteps of the blind,  
And lead them from their journey, all that be  
Christians, will surely say— Cursed is he.   

4  
A vile transgressor too, I cannot miss  
An Image-worshipper, and one that is  
A friend to Wooden Saints, let him not be  
A pattern for our lives— Cursed is he.   

5  
He that's unmerciful, adulterous,  
A Fornicator, or one covetous,  
And many such great evils, God will see  
His true amendment, else— Cursed is he.   

6  
He that in judgement hindereth the right  
Of Fatherless, or Widows, in God's sight  
His unjust judgement stands, who will not see  
His sin unpunished— Cursed is he:   

7  
But there's a Judas, who reward will take  
To murder Innocents, (my saviour's sake  
Doth make me now relent) but let him be  
Subject unto his bane— Cursed is he.   

8  
But now a caitiff, heathenish and vile,  
I must declare, a disobedient Child;  
A Parent-Curser, who deserves to be  
Cursed of all the world— Cursed is he.   

9  
There is a craft crept in the Country Sir,  
Which is to bear his neighbour's Landmark far  
From its true place of residence, to be  
For his unlawful use— Cursed is he.   

10  
Here is another justice will not spare,  
An hot, lascivious, loose Adulterer,  
That whores his neighbour's wife, and makes him be  
The laughingstock of Fools— Cursed is he.    
FINIS.