THE works OF EDMOND Waller Esquire, Lately a Member of the Honourable HOUSE of COMMONS, In this present Parliament.  
Imprimatur NA. BRENT. Decem. 30. 1644.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Walkley. 1645.   


Of His MAJESTI●S receiving the news of the Duke of Buckingham's death.  

So earnest with thy God, can no new care:  
No sense of danger interrupt thy prayer?  
The sacred Wrestler till a blessing given  
Quits not his hold, but halting conquers heaven:  
Nor was the stream of thy devotion stopped  
When from the body such a limb was lopped,  
As to thy present state was no less maim,  
Though thy wise choice has since repaired the same;  
Bold Homer durst not so great virtue ●ain  
In his best pattern● of Patrolus slain,  
With such amazement as weak mother's use,  
And ●rantick gesture he receives the news:  
Yet fell his darling by th'impartial chance  
Of war, imposed by royal Hector's lance,  
Thine in full peace, and by a vulgar haud  
Torn from thy bosom left his high command.  
The famous Painter can allow no place  
For private sorrow in a Prince's face:  
Yet that his price might not exceed belief,  
He cast a ●ail upon supposed grie●e.  
'twas want of such a precedent as this  
Made the old heathen frame their god amiss.  
Their Phoebus should not act a fonder part  
For the fair boy, than he did from his heart;  
Nor blame for Hiaci●thus fate his own  
That kept from him wi●h'd death, hadst thou been known.  
Yet he that weighs with thine good David's deeds,   

Shall sinde his passion, not his love exceeds.  
He cursed the mountains where his brave friend died,  
But lest self Ziba with his heir divide:  
Where thy mottall love to thy blessed friends,  
Like that of heaven upon their seed descends.  
Such huge extremes inhabit thy great mind,  
Godlike unmoved, and yet like woman kind;  
Which of thy ancient Poets had not brought  
Our Charles his pedigree, from heaven and taught  
How some bright dame compressed by mighty love  
Produced this mixed divinity and love?    

To the King on his Navy.  
Where ere thy Navy spreads her canvas wings  
Homage to thee, and peace to all she brings:  
The French and Spaniard when thy flags appear  
Forget their hatred, and consent to fear.  
So love from Ida did both hosts survey,  
And when he pleased to thunder part the fray.  
Ships heretofore in seas like fishes sped,  
The mightiest still upon the smallest fed.  
Thou on the deep imposest stricter laws,  
And by that justice hast removed the cause  
Of those rude tempests which for rapine sent,  
Too o●t alas, involved the innocent.  
Now shall the Ocean as thy Thames be fre●  
From both those ●ates of storms and pi●acie▪  
But we most happy, who can fear no force  
But winged troops, or Pegasean horse.  
'tis not so hard for greedy foes to spoil  
Another Nation as to touch our soil.  
Should nature's self invade the world again,  
And o'er the centre spread the liquid main:  
Thy power were safe, and her 〈◊〉 hand,  
Would but enlarge the bounds of they command.  
Thy dreadful sleet would 〈◊〉 let thee Lord of all,  
And ●ide in triumph o'er the drowned ball.  
Those towers of oak o'er ●ertile plains might 〈◊〉  
And visit m●untains where they once did grow.  
The world's restorer once could not endure  
That finished Bahell should those men secure:  
Whose pride designed, that fabrics should have stood  
Above the reach of any second 'slud.  
To thee his ●●osen more indulgent he  
Dares trust such power with so much piety.   

Upon His majesty's repairing of Paul's.  

THat shipwrecked vessel which th'Apostle boro  
Scarce suffered more upon Melitas shore,  
Then did his Temple in the sea of time  
(Our Na●ons glory, and our N●●ions crime.)  
When the first Monarch of this happy Isle▪  
Moved with the ruin of so brave a pile,  
This work of cost and pie●y begun  
To be accomplished by his glorious Son:  
Who all that came within the ample thought  
Of his wise sire, has to perfection brought.  
He like Amphion makes those quarries leap  
Into fair figures from a consused heap:  
For in his art of Regiments is found  
A power like that of harmony in sound.   

Those antique minstrels sure were Charles like Kings,  
Cities their lutes, and full jects hearts their strings;  
On which with so divine a hand they struck  
Consent of motion from their breath they took.  
So all our minds with his conspire to grace  
The Gentiles great Apostle, and deface  
Those State observing sheds, that like a chain  
Seemed to confine and fetter him again;  
Which the glad Saint shakes off at his command  
As once the viper from his sacred hand:  
So joys the aged oak when we divide  
The creeping Ivy from his injured side.   

Ambition rather would effect the same  
Of some new structure; to have 〈◊〉 her name  
Two distant virtues in one act we find  
The modesty, and greatness of his mind;  
Which not content to be above the rage  
And injury of all impairing age,  
In its own worth secure, doth higher clime,  
And things half swallowed from the jaws of time  
Reduce an earnest of his grand design  
To frame no new church, but the old resine:  
Which Spouse like may with comely grace command  
〈◊〉 then by force of argument or hand.  
For doubtful reason few can apprehend,  
And War brings ruin, where it should amend.  
But beauty with a bloodless conquest finds  
A welcome sovereignty in rudest minds.   

Not aught which Shebas wondering Queen beheld  
Amongst the works of Solomon excelled,  
His ships and building; emblems of a heart  
Large both in magnanimity and art:  
While the propitious heavens this work attend,  
Long wanted showers they forget to send;  
As if they meant to make it understood  
Of more importance than our vital food.   

The Sun which riseth to salute the choir,  
Already finished, setting shall admire  
How private bounty could so far extend;  
The King built all, but Charles the Western end:  
So proud a fabric to devotion given,  
At once it threatneth and obligeth heaven.   

Laomedon that had the gods in pay,  
Neptune, with him that rules the sacred day,  
Could no such structure raise, Troy walled so high,  
Th'Atrides might as well have forced the sky.   

Glad, though amazed, are our neighbour Kings  
To see such power employed in peaceful things,  
They list not urge it to the dreadful field,  
The task is easier to destroy, then build,    

of the danger of His Majesty (being Prince) escaped all the road at Saint An●tere.  

Nor had his highness bid farewell to Spain,  
And reached the sphere of his own power the main▪  
With British bounty in his ship he sea●s,  
Th'Hesperian Princes, his amazed guests;  
To find that watery wilderness exceed  
The entertainment of their great Madrid.  
Healths to both Kings attended with he roar  
Of cannon's echoed from th'effrightod shore;  
With loud, esemblance of his thunder prove  
Bacchus the seed of cloud compelling love;  
W●ile to his harp divine, Arion sings  
T●e loves and conquests of our Albion Kings,  
Of the fourth Edward was his noble song,  
Fierce, goo●ly, valiant, beautiful and young.  
He rent the crown from vanquished Henry's head,  
Raised the whi●e rose, and trampled on the red:  
Till love triumphing o'er the victor's prids,  
Brought Mars and Warwick to the conquered side:  
Neglected Warwick (whose bold hand like fate  
Gives and resumes the sceptre of our State)  
Woos for his master, and with double shame  
Himself deluded, mocks the Princely dame.  
The lady Bona whom just anger burns,  
And foreign was with civil rage returns:  
Ah spare) our swords where beauty is too blame,  
Love gave th'affront, and must repair the same:  
When France shall boast of her whose conquering eyes  
Have made the best of English hearts their prize;  
Have power to alter the decree of fate,  
And change again the counsels of our State.  
What the Proph●tick muse intends alone  
To him that feels the secret wound is known:  
With the sweet sound of this harmonious lay  
About the keel delighted Dolphins play:  
Too sure a sign of Seas ensuing rage,  
Which must anon this royal troop engage:  
To whom soft sleep seems more secure and sweet  
Within the town commanded by our fle●t.  
These mighty Peers placed in the guilded Barge,  
Proud with the burden of so brave a charge;  
With painted oars the youth begin to sweep  
Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep,  
Which soon becomes the seat of sudden war  
Between the wind and tide that fiercely jar;  
As when a sort of lusty shepherds try  
Their force at football, care of victory  
Makes them salute so rudely breast to breast,  
That their encounters seem too rough for jest.  
They ply their feet, and still the restless ball  
Tossed too and fro is urged by them all.  
So fares the doubtful Barge twixt tide and winds,  
And like effect of their contention ●inds;  
Yet the bold Britain's s●ill securely rowed,  
Charles and his virtue was their sacred load:  
Then which a greater pledge heaven could not give  
That the good boat, this tempest should outlive:  
But storms increase, and now no hope of grace  
Among them shines, save in the Prince's face.  
The rest resign their courage, skill and sight  
To danger, horror, and unwelcome night.  
The gentle vessel wont with state and pride  
On the smooth back of silver Thames to ride;  
Wanders astonished in the angry maine  
As Titan's car did, while the golden rain  
filled the young hand of his adventurous son  
When the whole world an equal hazard run  
To this of ours: the light of whose desire,  
Waves threaten now, as that was skared by fire,   

The impatient sea grows impotent and raves  
That (night assisting) his impetuous waves  
Should find resistance from so light a thing:  
These surges ruin, those our safety bring.  
Th'oppressed vestell doth the charge abide,  
Only because as●ail'd on every side.  
So men with rage and passion set on fire,  
Trembling for haste impeach their mad desire.   

The pale Iberians had expired with fear:  
But that their wonder did divert their care,  
To see the Prince with danger moved no more  
Then with the pleasures of their court before.  
Godlike his courage seemed whom nor delight  
Could soften, nor the face of death affright.  
Next to the power of making tempests cease  
Was in that storm, to have so calm a peace.   

Great Maro could no greater tempest fain  
When the loud winds usurping on the main;  
For angry Juno laboured to destroy  
The hated relics of confounded Troy:  
His bold Aeneas, on like billows tossed  
In a tall ship, and all his Countries lost:  
Dissolves with fear, and both his hands upheld,  
Proclaims them happy whom the Greeks had queled▪   

In honourable sight our Hero set  
In a small shallow fortune in his debt;  
So nearo a hope of Crowns and sceptres more  
Than ever Priam, when he slourish'd, wore  
His loins yet full of ungot Princes, all  
His glory in the bud; lets nothing fall,  
That argues fear: if any thought annoys  
The gallant youth, 'tis loves untasted joy●s,  
And dear remembrance of that fatal glance,  
For which he lately pawned his heart in France:  
Where he had seen a brighter nymph than she  
That sprung out of his present foe; the sea  
That noble ardour more than mortal fire,  
The conquered ocean could not make expire:  
Nor angry Thetis, raise her waves above  
The heroic Prince, his courage, or his love,  
'twas indignation, and not fear he felt,  
The shrine should perish where that Imaged welt.   

Ah love forbid, the noblest of thy strain  
Should not survive to let her know his pain:  
Who nor his peril minding, nor his flame,  
Is entertained with some less serious game  
Among the bright nymphs of the Gallic Court,  
All highly borne, obsequious to her sport:  
They roses seem within their early pride,  
But half reveal, and half their beauties hide.  
She the glad morning which her beams doth throw,  
Upon their smiling lea●es, and gild them so:  
Like brihht Aurora, whose refulgent Ray  
Foretells the fervour of ensuing day:  
And warns the shepherd with his ●locks retreat  
To leafy shadows from the threatened heat.   

From Cupid's string of many shasts that fled  
Winged with those plumes which noble same had shed:  
As through the wondering world she flew and told  
Of his adventures haughty, brave and bold:  
Some had already touched the royal maid,  
But loves first summons seldom are obeyed,  
Light was the wound the Princes care unknown,  
She might not, would not, yet reveal her own.   

His glorious name had so possessed her ears,  
That with delights, those antique tales she hears  
Of Inson, Thesous, and such Worthies old,  
As with his story best resemblance hold.   

And now she views, as on the wall it hung  
What old Musens so divinely sung:  
Which art with life and love did so inspire  
That she discerns, and favours that desire:  
Which there provokes th'adventrous youth to swim  
And in Leander's dangers pities him;  
Whose not new love alone but fortune seeks  
To frame his story like that amorous Greeks.   

For from the stern of some good ship appears,  
A friendly light which moderates their fears:  
New courage from reviving hope they take,  
And climbing o'er the waves that taper make;  
On which the hope of all their lives depends,  
As his on that fair hero's hand extends.   

The ship at anchor like a fixed rock  
Breaks the proud billows which her large sides knock;  
Whose rage restrained foaming higher swells,  
And from her port the weary barge repels;  
Threatening to make her forced out again,  
Repeat the dangers of the troubled maine.   

Twice was the cable hurled in vain; the fates  
Would not be moved for our sister States:  
For England is the third successful throw,  
And then the Genius of that Land they know:  
Whose Prince must be (as their own books devise)  
Lord of the Scene, where now the danger lies.  
Well sung the Roman Bard, all human things  
Of dearest value, hang on slender strings.  
O see the then ●ole hope, and in design  
Of heaven our joy supported by a line:  
Which for that instant was heaven's care above  
The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove;  
On which the fabric of our world depends,  
One link dissolved, the whole creation ends,    

To the QUEEN, occasioned upon fight of her majesty's Picture.  

WEll fare the hand which to our humble sight  
Presents that beauty which the dazzling light  
Of royal splendour hides from weaker eyes:  
And all excess (save by this art) denies.  
Here only we have courage to behold  
This beam of glory, here we dare unfold  
In numbers thus the wonders we conceive;  
The gracious Image seeming to give leave  
Propitious stands, vouchsafing to be seen;  
And by our muse saluted Mighty Queen▪   

In whom th'extreams of power and beauty move  
The Queen of Britain and the Queen of Love.  
As the bright Sun (to which we owe no sight)  
Of equal glory to your beauty's light,  
Is wisely placed in so sublime a seat  
T'extend his light, and moderate his heat.  
So happy 'tis you move in such a sphere  
As your high Majesty with awful fear,  
In human breasts might qualify that fire  
Which kindled by those eyes had flamed higher,  
Then when the scorched world like hazard run  
By the approach of the ill guided Sun.  
No other nymphs have title to men's hearts,  
But as their meanness larger hope imparts:  
Your beauty more the fondest lover moves  
With admiration than his private loves;  
With admiration. for a pitch so high  
(Save sacred Charles his) never love durst fly.  
Heaven that preferred a sceptre to your hand  
Favoured our freedom, more than your command.  
Beauty had crowned you, and you must have been  
The whole world's Mistress, other than a Queen.  
All had been Rivals; and you might have spared,  
Or killed and tyrannised without a guard.  
No power achieved, either by arms or birth  
Equals love's empire, both in heaven and earth.  
Such eyes as yours, on Jove himself have thrown  
As bright and fierce a lightning as his own:  
Witness our Jove prevented by their flame  
In his swift passage to the ●esperian dame.  
When (like a Lion) finding in his way  
To some intended spoil a fairer prey.  
The royal youth pursuing the report  
Of beauty, found it in the Gallic Court:  
There public care with private passion fought  
A doubtful combat in his noble thought.  
Should he confess his greatness, and his love,  
And the free faith of your great brother prove.  
With his Achates breaking through the cloud  
Of that disguise which did their grace's shroud;  
And mixing with those gallants at the ball,  
Dance with the Ladies and outshine them all:  
Or on his journey o'er the mountains ride;  
So when the fair Le●cothee he espied  
To check his steeds; impatient Phoebus carned,  
Though all the world was in his wars concerned,  
What may hereafter her meridian do,  
Whose dawning beauty warmed his bosom so:  
Not so divine a flame, since deathless gods  
Forbore to visit the defiled abodes  
Of men, in any mortal breast did burn,  
Nor shall till piety and they returene.    

The Apology of sleep:  
For not approaching the Lady who can do any thing but sleep when she pleaseth.  

MY charge it is, those breaches to repair  
Which nature takes from sorrow, toil and care,  
Rest to the limbs and quiet, I confer  
On troubled minds; but nought can add to her  
Whom heaven & her transcendent thoughts have placed  
Above those ills which wretched mortals taste.   

Bright as the deathless gods, and happy she  
From all that may infringe delight, is free;  
Love at her royal fe●t his quiver lays,  
And not his mother with more haste obeys.  
Such real pleasures, such true joys suspense,  
What dream can I present to recompense?   

Should I with lightning fill her a wfull hands,  
And make the clouds seem all at her commands;  
Or place her in Olympus' top, a guest  
Among th'mortalls who with Nectar feast:  
That power would seem that entertainment short  
Of the true splendour of her present Court;  
Where all the joys and all the glories are  
Of three great kingdoms, severed from the care,  
I that of fumes and humid vapours made,  
Ascending do the seat of sen●e invade.  
No cloud in so serene a mansion find  
To overcast her ever shining mind,  
Which holds resemblance with those spotless skies,  
Where flowing Nilus' want of rain supplies.  
That crystal heaven, where Phoebus never shrouds  
His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds.   

But what so hard which numbers cannot force,  
So stoops the moon, and rivers change their course.  
The bold Moenian made me dare to steep  
Jove's dreadful temples in the dew of sleep.  
And since the Muses do invoke my power.  
I shall no more decline that sacred bower  
Where Gloriana their great Mistress lies,  
But gently taming those victorious eyes,  
Charm all her senses; till the joy full Sun  
Without a rival hal●e his course has run:  
Who while my hand that ●airer light confines  
May boast himself the brightest thing that shines.    

The Country to my Lady of Carlisle.  
Madam:  

OF all the sacred Muse inspired,  
Orpheus alone could with the woods comply  
Their rude inhabitants his song admired,  
And nature's self in those that could lie.  
Your beauty next our solitude invades,  
And warms us shining, through thickest shades.   

Nor ought the tribute which the wondering Cou●●  
Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you o● scorn  
The answer and consent to the report  
Which echo-like the Country doth return.  
Mirrors are taught to flatter, but our springs  
Present th'impartial images of things.   

A rural judge disposed of beautics prize,  
A simple shepherd was preferred to Jove,  
Down to the mountains from the partial skies  
Came Jano, Pallas, and the Queen of Love,  
To plead for that which was so justly given  
To the bright Carlisle of the Court of Heaven,   

Catlile a name which all our words are taught,  
Loud as his Amarillis to resound.  
Carlisle a name which on the bark is wrought  
Of every tree that's worthy of the wound.  
From Phoebus' rage, our shadows, and our streams,  
May guard us better than from Carliles beams.    

The Countess of Carlisle in mourning.  
When from black clouds no part of sky is clear  
But just so much as lets the Sun appear:  
Heavens than would seem thy image, and reslect  
Those sable vestments, and that bright aspect.  
A spark of virtue by the deepest shade  
Of sad adversity is fairer made;  
Nor less advantage doth thy beauty get  
A Venus rising from a sea of jet.  
Such was the appearance of new formed light  
While yet it struggled with eternal night:  
Then mourn no more lest thou admit increase  
Of glory by the noble Lord's deccase.  
We find not that the laughter loving dame  
Mourned for Anchises; ● was enough she came  
To grace the mortal with her deathless bed,  
And that his living eyes such beauty fed:  
Had she been there, untimely joy through all  
Men's hearts diffused, had marred the funeral.  
Those eyes were made to banish grief: as well  
Bright Phoebus might affect in shades to dwell,  
As they to put on sorrow; nothing stands  
But power to grieve, exempt from thy commands:  
If thou lament, thou must do so alone  
Grief in thy presence, can lay hold on none:  
Yet still persi●t the memory to love  
Of that great Mercury of our mighty Jove:  
Who by the power of his enchanting tongue  
Swords from the hands of threatning Monarchs wrung  
War he presented, orsoon made it cease,  
Instructing Princes in the arts of peace:  
Such as made Sheba's curious Queen resort  
To the large hearted Hebrews famous Court.  
Had Homer sat among his wondering guests,  
He might have learned at those stupendious feasts,  
With greater bounty, and more sacred state.  
The banquet of the gods to celebrate.  
But O! what elocution might he use,  
What potent charms that could so soon infuse  
His absent Master's love into the heart  
Of Henrietta Flower deluce her to part  
From her loved brother, Country, and the Sun,  
And like Camilla o'er the waves to run  
Into his arms, while the Parisian dames  
Mourn for their ravished glory at her flames?  
No less amazed than the amazed stars,  
When the bold charmer of Theslalia wars  
With heaven itself, and numbers does repeat,  
Which call descending Cynthia from her seat.   

In answer to, &c.  

What ●ury has provoked thy wit to da●e  
with Diomed, to wound the queen of love  
Thy Mistress envy, or thine own detpair?  
Not the just Pallas in thy heart did move.  
So blind a rage with such a different fate,  
He honour won, where thou hast purchased ●●re   

She gave assistance to his Trojanfoe;  
Tho● that without a rival thou maicst love▪  
Dost to the beauty of thy Lady owe,  
While after her the gazing world does move  
Canst thou not be content to love alone,  
Or is thy Mistress not content with one?   

Hast thou not read of fairy Arthurs shield,  
Which but disclosed, amazed the weaker eyes  
Of proudest foe, and won the doubtful field?  
So shall thy rebel wit become her prize.  
Should thy jambecks swell into a book,  
All were con●uted with one Radiant look.   

Heaven he obliged that place her in the skies,  
Rewarding Phoebus, for inspiring so  
His noble brain by likening to those eyes  
His joyful beams, but Phoebus is thy foe:  
And neither aids thy fancy not thy sight,  
So ill thou rimest against so fair a light.    

On my Lady Dorothy Sidneyes Picture.  
Such was Philo●lea, and such Dorus flame,  
The matchless Sidney that immortal frame  
Of perfect beauty on two pillars placed;  
Not his high fancy could one pattern graced:  
With such extremes of excellence compose  
Wonders so distant in one face disclose:  
Such cheerful modesty, such humble state,  
Moves certain love, but with as dovotfull fate;  
As when beyond our greedy reach we see  
Inviting fruit on too sublime a tree.  
All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found  
Amazed we see, in this one garland bound.  
Had but this copy which the Artists took  
From the fair picture of that noble Book,  
Stood at Calanders' the brave friends had jarred,  
And rivals made, the ensuing story marred.  
Just nature fi●st instructed by his thought  
In his own house thus practised what he taught.  
This glorious piece transcend● what he could think:  
So much his blood is nobler than his ink.   

To Vandike.  
RAre Artisan, whose pencil moves  
Not our delights alone, but loves:  
From thy shop of beauty, we  
Slaves return that entered free.  
The headless lover does not know  
Whose eyes they are that wound him so:  
But con●ounded with thy art,  
Inquires her name that has his heart:  
Another who did long refrain  
Feels his old wound bleed fresh again;  
With dear remembrance of that face,  
Where now he reads new hopes of grace:  
Nor scorn, not cruelty does find,  
But gladly suffers a false wind  
To blow the ashes of despair  
From the reviving brand of care:  
Fool that forgetest her stubborn look,  
This softness from thy finger took:  
Strange that thy hand should not inspire  
The beauty only but the fire:  
Not the form alone and grace,  
But act and power of a face:  
mayst thou yet thyself as well,  
As all the world beside excel;  
So thou 〈◊〉 truth rehearse  
(Tha● I may m●ke it live in verse)  
Why tho● couldst not at one assay  
That face to after times convey,  
Which this 〈◊〉; was it thy wit  
To make her of before thee fit?  
Cons●sle▪ and we'll forgive thee this,  
For who would not repeat that bliss,  
And frequent sight of such a dame  
Buy with the hazard of his same?  
Yet who can tax thy blamelesle skill,  
Though thy good hand had failed still?  
When natures self so often errs,  
She for this many thousand years  
Seems to have practised with much care,  
To frame the race of women fair;  
Yet never could a perfect birth  
Produce before to grace the earth:  
Which waxed old ere it could see  
Her that amazed thy art and thee.  
But now'us done, O let me know  
Where those immortal colours grow,  
That could this deathlesle piece compose  
In lilies, or the sading role:  
No for this thest thou hast climbed higher  
Th●n did Prometheus for his fire.   

As Pens-hurst.  
While in this park I sing, the listening Dee●e  
Attend my passion, and forget to fear.  
When to the Beeches I report my flame,  
They bow their heads as if they felt the same:  
To God's appealing, when I reach their bowers  
With loud complaints, they answer me in showers,  
To thee a wild and cruel soul is given,  
More de●s than trees, & prouder than the heaven.  
love's so prof●st, why dost thou falsely fain  
Thyself a Sidney? from which noble strain  
He sprung, that could so far ●x●l● the name  
Oflove, and warm our Nation with his flame:  
That all we can ●f love or high desire,  
Seems but the smoke of amorous Sidneyes fire:  
Nor call her mother who so well do prove,  
One breast may hold both chastiry and love:  
Never can she, that so exceeds the spriag  
In joy and bounty, be supposed to bring  
One so destructive, to no human stock  
We owe this fierce unkindness; but the rock,  
That cloven rock produced thee, by whose side  
Nature to recompense the fatal pride  
Ofsuch stern beauty, placed those healing springs  
Which not more help than that destruction brings,  
Thy heart no ruder than the rugged stone,  
I might like Orpheus with my numerous moan  
Melt to compassion; now my traitorous song,  
With thee conspires to do the singer wrong:  
While thus I suffer not myself to lose  
The memory of what augments my woes:  
But with my own breath still foment the sire  
Which slames as high as fancy can aspire.  
This last complaint th'indulgent ears did pierce  
Of just Apollo President of verse  
Highly concerned, that the Muse should bring  
Damage to one whom he had taught to sing:  
Thus he advised me on yond aged tree,  
Hang up thy lute, and high thee to the sea,  
Th●t there with wonders thy diverted mind  
Some truce at least my with affection find.  
Ah cruel nymph from whom her humble swain  
Flies for relief unto the raging maine:  
And from the winds and tempests doth expect  
A milder fate than from her cold neglect:  
Yet there he'll pray that the unkind may prove  
Blessed in her choice, and vows this endless love  
Springs from no hope of what she can confer  
But from those gifts which heaven has heaped on her.   

At Pens-hurst.  
HAd Dorothea lived when mortals made  
Choice of their deities, this sacred shade  
Had held an altar to her power that gave  
The peace and glory, which these alleys have  
Embroidered so with flowers where she stood,  
That it became a garden of wood:  
Her presence has such more than human grace  
That it can civilize the rudest place,  
And beauty too, and order can impart  
Where nature ne'er intended it, nor art.  
The plants acknowledge this, and her admire  
No less than those of old did Orpheus' lyre:  
If she sit down with tops all toward her bowed.  
They round about her into arbours crowd:  
Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand  
Like some well marshaled and obsequious band.  
Amphion so made stones and timber leap  
Into fair figures from a confused heap:  
And in the symmetry of her parts is found  
A power like that of harmony in sound.  
Ye● lof●y beech's tell this matchless dame  
That if together ye fe●d all on one flame;  
It could not equalise the hundred part  
Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart.  
Go boy and carve this passion on the bark  
Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark  
Of noble Sidney's birth; when such benign,  
Such more than mortal making stars did shine:  
That there they cannot bu● for ever prove  
The monument and pledge of humble love:  
His humble love whose hope shall ne'er rise higher  
Than for a pardon that he dares admire.   

To my Lord of Lei●●ster.  

NOt that thy trees at Pens-hurst groan  
Oppressed with their timely load,  
And seem to make their silent moan,  
That their great Lord is now abroad:  
They to delight his taste or eye  
Would spend themselves in fruit and die.   

Not that thy harmless deer repine,  
And think themselves unjustly stain  
By any other hand than thine,  
Whose arrows they would gladly stain:  
No nor thy frien●s which hold too dear  
That peace with France which keeps thee there;   

All these are less than that great cause,  
Which none exacts your presence here,  
Wherein there meet the divers laws  
Of publiqae and domestic care.  
For one bright nymph our youth contend●.  
And on your prudent choice depends.   

Not the bright shield of Thetis sun,  
For which such steroe debate did rise,  
That the great Ajax, Telemon  
●●efus'd to live without the prize.  
Those Achave Peers did more engage,  
Than she the gallants of our age.   

That beam of beauty which begun  
To warm us so when thou wert here,  
Now scorches like the raging sun  
When Syri●s does first appear.  
O six this flame, and let despair  
Redeem the rest from endless care●    

To my young Lady Lucy Sidney.  

Why came I so untimely forth  
Into a world which wanting thee  
Could entertain us with no worth  
Or shadow of felicity?  
That time should me so far remove  
From that which I was borne to love.   

Yet fairest blossom do not slight  
That age which you must know so soon,  
The rosy morn resigns her light,  
And milder glory to the moon:   

And than what wonders shall you do,  
Whole dawning beau●y warms us so?   

Hope waits upon the slowry prime,  
And summer though it be lestle gay▪  
Yet is not looked on as a time  
Of declination or decay.  
For with a full hand that doth bring  
All that was promised by the spring.    

Of the Lady who can sleep when she pleases.  
NO wonder sleep from careful lovers ●lyes  
To bathe himself in Sacharissa's eyes.  
As fair Aftrea once from earth to heaven  
By strife and loud impiety was driven:  
So with our plaints offended, and our tears  
Wife Somnus to that Paradise repairs,  
Waits on her will, and wretches does forsake  
To court the nymph for whom those Wretches Wake:  
More proud than Phoe●us of his throne of gold  
Is the soft god those softer limbs to hold:  
Nor would exchange with love to hide the skies  
In darkening clouds the power to close her eyes:  
Eyes which so far all other lights control,  
They warm our mortal parts, but these our soul:  
Let her free spirit whose unconquered breast  
Holds such deep quiet and untroubled rest:  
Know that though Venus and her son should spare  
Her rebel heart, and never teach her care:  
Yet Hymen may enforce her vigils keep,  
And for another's joy suspend her sleep.   

Of the misreport of her being painted.  
As when a sort of Wolves infelt the night  
With their wild howlings at fair Cinthia's light,  
The noise may chase sweet slumber from our eyes,  
But never reach the Mistress of the skies:  
So with the news of Sacharissa's wrongs,  
Her vexed servants blame those envious tongu●●.  
Call love to witness that no painted fire  
Can scorch men so, or kindle such desire:  
While unconcerned she seems moved no more  
With this new malice then our loves before:  
But from the height of her great mind looks down  
On both our passions without smile or frown:  
So little care of what is done below  
Hath the bright dame whom heaven affecteth so,  
Paints her: 'tis true with the same hand which spreads  
Like glorious colours through the flowery m●ads.  
When lavish nature with her best attire  
Clothes the gay spring, the s●ason of desire.  
Paints her, 'tis true, does her cheek adorn  
With the same art wherewith she paints the morn:  
With the same art wherewith she gildeth so  
Those painted clouds which form Thaumantias●ow.   

Of her passing through a crowd of people.  
AS in old Chaos Heaven with earth confused,  
And stars with rocks together crushed and bruis'●.  
The Sun his light no further could extend  
Then the next hill which on his shoulders leaned:  
So in this throng bright Sacharissa fared,  
Oppressed by those who strove to be her guard:  
As ships though never so obsequious, fall  
foul in a tempest on their admiral:  
A greater ●avour this disorder brought  
Unto her servants then their a w●●ll thought  
Durst entertain, when thus compelled they pressed  
The yielding marble of her snowy br●ast:  
While love insults disguised in a cloud,  
And welcome force of the unruly crowd.  
So th'amorous tree while yet the air is calm.  
Just distance keeps from his desired palm.  
But when the wind her ravished branches throws  
Into her arms, and mingles all their bows:  
Though loath he seems her tender leaves to press.  
More loath he is that friendly storm should cease:  
From whose rude bounty, he the double use  
At once receives of pleasure and excuse.   

SONG  

SAy lovely dream, where couldst thou find●  
Shades to counterfeit that face?  
Colours of this glorious kind,  
Come not from any mort●ll race.   

In heaven itself th●u sure were't dre●t  
With that angel-like disguise▪  
Thus deluded am I blessed,  
And see my joy with closed eyes.   

But at this Image is too kind  
To be other than a dream  
Cruel Sacharissa's mind  
Never put on that sweet extreme.   

Fair dream if thou intend'st me grace  
Change that heavenly face of thine,  
Paint despised love in thy face,  
And make it to appear like mine.   

Pale, wan, and meager let it look,  
With a pity moving shape,  
Such as wander by the brook  
Of Lethe, or from graves escape.   

Then to that matchless Nymph appear,  
In whose shape thou shinest so  
Softly in her sleeping ear,  
With humble words express my woe.   

Perhaps from greatness, state, and pride,  
Thus surprised she may ●all:  
Sleep does disproportion hide,  
And death resembling equals all.    

SONG.  

BEhold the brand of beauty tossed;  
See how the motion does delate the flame:  
Delighted love his spoils does boast,  
And triumph in this game.  
Fire to no place confined,  
Is both our wonder and our fear,  
Moving the mind,  
Like lightning hurled through the air.   

High heaven the glory does increase  
Of all her shining lamp this artful way,  
The Sun in figures such as these  
Joys with the Moon to play.  
To the sweet strains they advance,  
Which do result from their own fear▪  
As the nymph's dance,  
Moves with the numbers which she hears.    

To Amorett.  

Fair that you may truly know  
What you un●o T●irsis owe,  
I will tell you how I do  
Sacharissa love and you.   

Joy salutes me when I set  
My ble●t eyes on Amorett:  
But with wonder I am struck  
When I on the other look.   

If sweet Amoretta complains,  
I have sense of all her pains;  
But for Sacharissa, I  
Do not only grieve, but die,   

All that of myself is mine  
Lovely Amoretta is thine;  
Sacharissa's captive fain  
Would untie his iron chain.   

And those scorching beams to 〈◊〉  
To thy gentle shadow run:  
If the soul had free election  
To dispose of her affection,  
I would not thus long have borne  
Haughty Sacharissa's scorn;  
But 'tis some pure power above,  
Which controls our will in love.   

If not love, a strong desir●  
To cr●ate and spread that fire  
In my br●asts, solicits me  
Beaut●ous Am●ret for thee.   

'tis amazement more than love  
Which her radiant eyes do move;  
If less splendour wait on thine,  
Yet they so benignly shine.   

I would turn my dazelled sight  
To behold their milder light,  
But as hard 'tis to destroy  
That high flame, as to enjoy;  
Which, how easily I may do  
Heaven (as easily ●cal'd) does know:  
Amoretta as sweet and good  
As the most delicious food,  
Which but tasted doth impart  
Life and goodness to the heart.  
Sacharissa's beauty, wine,  
Which to madness doth incline.  
Such a liquour as no brain  
That is mortal can sustain.  
Scarce can I to Heaven excuse  
That Devotion which I use  
Unto that adored Dame;  
For 'tis not unlike the same  
Which I thither ought to send;  
So that if it could take end  
'Twould to Heaven itself be due  
To succeed her and not you,  
Who already have of me  
All that's not Idolatry;  
Which though not so fierce a flame  
Is longer like to be the same.   

Then smil● on me, and I will prove,  
Wonder is sho●ter lived, than Love.    

The story of Phoebus and Daphne applied.  
THirsis a youth of the inspired train,  
Fair Sacharissa loved, but loved in vain:  
Like Ph●bus s●ng the no l●sse amorous boy,  
Like Daphne she as lovely and as coy:  
With numbers he the flying nymph pursues,  
With numbers such as Phoebus' self might use:  
Such is the chase when love and fancy leads  
O'er craggy mountains and through slowry meads;  
Invoke to testify the lover's care,  
Or form some image of his cruel fair:  
Urged with his fury like a wounded deer,  
O'er these he fled, and none approaching near;  
Had reached the nymph with his harmonious lay,  
Whom all his charms could not incline to stay.  
Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,  
Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain:  
All but the Nymph that should redress his wrong,  
Attend his passion, and approve his song.  
Like Phoebus thus acquiring unsought praise,  
He catched at love, and filled his arm with bays.   

Of Mrs. Ardea.  

BEhold, and listen while the fair  
Breaks in sweet sounds and wil●ing air●.  
And with her own breath fans the fire  
Which her bright eyes do sust inspire:  
What reason can that love control,  
Which more than one way courts the soul?   

So when a slash of lightning falls  
On our abodes, the danger calls  
For human aid, which hopes the flame  
To conquer, though from heaven it came.  
But if the wind with that conspire,  
Men strive not but deplore the fire.    

On the discovery of a Ladies painting.  

Pigmaleons' fate reversed is mine,  
His marble love took flesh and blood;  
All that I worship is divine:  
That beauty now 'tis understood,  
Appears to have no more of life  
Then that whereof he framed his wife.   

As women yet who apprehend  
Some sudden cause of 〈◊〉 fear,  
Although that seeming cause take end.  
And they behold no danger near:  
A shaking through their limbs they find  
Like leaves saluted by the wind.   

So though the beauty do appear,  
No beauty which amazed me so,  
Yet from my brea●t I cannot tear  
The passion which from the●ce did grow▪  
Nor yet out of my fancy raze  
The print of that supposed face.   

A real beauty though too near,  
The fond Narcissus did admire;  
Ay do●● on that which is nowhere,  
The sign of 〈◊〉 ●teeds my fire:  
No mortal fl●me was ●●e so cruel  
As this which thus surviv●s the fuel.    

To a Lady from whom he received a Silver Pen.  
Madam,  

INtending to have tried  
The silver favour which you gave,  
In ink the shining point I died,  
And drenched it in the sable wave:  
When grieved to be so foully stained,  
On you it thus to me compla●●'d.   

Suppose you had deserved to take  
From her fair hand so fair a boon,  
Yet how deserved I to make  
So ill a change, who ever won  
Immortal prai●e for what I wrought,  
Instructed by her noble thought.   

I that e●pr●ss●d her commands  
To migh●y Lords and Princely Dames,  
Alway●s most welcome to their hands,  
Proud that I would record their names.  
Must now be taught an humble stile  
Some meaner b●●uty to beguile.   

So I the wronged pen to please,  
Make it my humble thanks express  
Unto your ladyship in these,  
And now 'tis forced to confess  
That your great self did ne'er indite;  
Nor that to one more noble write.    

On a breed of divers colours, woven by four Ladies.  
TWice twenty slender virgin finger twine,  
This curious web where all their fancies shine;  
As Nature them, so they this shade have wrought  
Soft as their hands, and various as their thought.  
Not Juno's bird when his fair train dispread,  
He woes the female to his painted bed:  
No not the bow which so adorns the skies,  
So glorious is, or boasts so many dies.   

On the head of a Stag.  
SO we some antique Hero's strength  
Learn by his lances, weight and length;  
As these vast beams express the beast,  
Whose shady brows alive they dressed.  
Such game while yet the world was new,  
The migh●y Nimrod did pursue.  
What 〈◊〉 of our feeble race,  
Or dogs dare such a 〈◊〉 chase?  
Resembling with each blow he strikes  
The change of a whole troop of Pikes:  
O fer●ile head which every year  
Could such a crop of wonder bear I  
The teeming ea●●h did never bring  
So soon, so hard, so huge a thing;  
Which might it never have been cast  
Each years growth added to the last:  
These lofty branches had supplied  
The earth's bold sons prodigious pride:  
Heaven with these engines had been sealed  
When mountains heaped on mountains failed.   

To a Lady in retirement.  

SEes not my love how time resumes  
The glory which he 〈◊〉 these flowers;  
Though none should ●aste their sweet perfumes,  
Yet must they live but some few hours,  
Time what we forbear devours.   

Had Helen, or th' Egyptian Queen,  
Been 〈◊〉 so 〈◊〉 of their graces,  
The 〈◊〉 beauties must at le●gth have been  
The 〈◊〉 of age which finds out faces  
In the most retired places.   

Should some malignant planet bring  
A barren drought or ceaseless shower  
Upon the autumn or the Spring;  
And spare us neither fruit nor flower  
Winter would not stay an hour.   

Could the resolve of loves neglect  
Preserve ye from the violation  
Of coming years, then more respect  
Were due to so divine a fashion,  
Nor would I divulge my passion.    

The miser's speech in a Mask.  
BAlls of this mettle slacked Atlanta's pace,  
And on the amo●ous youth bestowed the race:  
Venus, the Nymphs mind measuring by her own,  
Whom the rich spoils of Cities overthrown  
Had prostrated to Mars could well advise  
Th'adventrous lover how to gain the prize:  
Nor le●●e may Jupiter to gold ascribe,  
When he turned himself into a bribe:  
Who can blame ●Diana or the brazen tower,  
That they which stood not the Almighty shower;  
Never till then did love make Jove pat on  
A form more bright and noble than his own?  
Nor were it just would he resume that shape  
That slack devotion should his thunder scape.  
●Twas not revenge for grieved Apollo's wrong  
Those ass's ea●s on Mida's Temple hung;  
But fond repentance of his happy wish,  
Because his meat grew mettle like his dish.  
Would Bacchus bless me so, I'd constant hold  
Unto my wish, and die creating gold.   

To my Lord of Northumberland upon the death of his Lady.  
TO this great loss a Sea of Tears is due,  
But the whole debt not to be paid by you:  
Charge not yourself with all, nor render vain  
Those showers the eyes of us your servant's rain.  
Shall grief contract the largeness of that heart,  
In which nor fear not anger ha● a part?  
Virtue would blush, if time should boast (which cries,  
Her sole child dead their tender mother's eyes)  
Your mind's relief, where reason triumphs so  
Over all passions, that they ne'er could grow  
Beyond their limits in your noble breast,  
To harm another, or impeach your rest.  
This we observed, delighting to obey  
One who did never from his great self stray:  
Whose mild example seemed to engage  
Th'obsequious Seas, and teach them not to rage.  
The brave Emilius his great charge laid down,  
(The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon)  
In his lo●t sons did feel, the cruel stroke  
Of changing fortune, and thus highly spoke  
Before Rome's people; we did oft implore  
That if the Heavens had any ill in store,  
For your Emil●us they would pour it still  
On his own House, and let you flourish still.  
You on the barren Sea (my Lord) have spent,  
Whole Springs and Summers to the public lent:  
Suspended all the pleasures of your life,  
And shortened the short joy of such a wife.  
For which your country's more obliged then  
For many lives of old, less happy men.  
You that have sac●ific●d to great a part  
Of youth and private b●sse, aught to impart  
Your sorrow too, and give your friends a right  
As well in your affliction, as delight:  
Then with Emilian courage bear this cross,  
Since public persons only public loss  
Ought to affect, and though her form and youth,  
Her application to your will and truth,  
That noble sweetness, and that humble state  
All snatched away by such a hasty fate,  
Might give excuse to any common breast,  
With the huge weight of so such grief oppressed.  
Yet let no portion of your life be stained  
With passion, but your character maintained  
To the last act; it is enough her Stone  
May honoured be with superscription  
Of the sole Lady, who had power to move  
The great Northumberland to grieve and love.   

To my Lord admiral of his late sickness and Recovery.  
With joy like ours the Thracian youth invades  
Or pheus returning from th●●Elisian shades,  
Embrace the Hero, and his stay implore,  
Make it their public suit, he would no more  
Desert them so, and for his Spouses sake,  
His vanished love t●mpt the Lethean lake:  
The La●ye● 〈…〉 ●rightest of that time,  
Ambi●●ous all his lo●●y bed to c●●me.  
Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed  
Who shall the fair Eurydice succeed:  
Eurydice for whom his num●rous moan  
Makes listening trees, and savage mountains groan:  
Through ●ll the air his sounding strings dilate  
Sorrow like that which touch our hearts of late:  
Your pining sickness and your restless pain,  
At once the land aff●cting, and the main,  
When the glad news that you were admiral,  
Scarce through the Nation spread 'twas feared by all▪  
That our great Charles, whose wisdom shines in you,  
Would be perplexed how to choose anew.  
So more than private was the joy and grief,  
That at the worst, it gave our soul's relief:  
That in our age such sense of virtue lived,  
They j●y'd so justly, and justly grieved:  
〈◊〉 her fairest lights eclipsed seems  
H●r self to suffer in those sharp extremes;  
While not from thine alone thy blood retires,  
But from those cheeks which all the world admires.  
the stem thus threatened, and the sap in thee  
Droop all the branches of that noble tree:  
Their beauty they and we our loves suspend,  
Noug●t can our wishes, save thy health intend:  
As lilies overcharged with rain they bend  
Their beauteous heads, and with high heaven contend  
●old th●e within their snowy arms, and cry  
〈◊〉 is too faultless, and too young to die:  
So like immortals round about thee they  
〈◊〉, that they fright approaching death away:  
Who would not languish by so fair a train,  
To be lamented and restored again?  
Or thus withheld, what hasty soul would go,  
Though to the blessed, o'er young Adonis so?  
Fair Venus mourned, and with the precious shower  
Of her warm tears cherished the springing flower.  
The next support fair hope of your great name,  
And second pillar of that noble frame:  
By loss of thee would no advantage have,  
But step by step pursues thee to the grave.  
And now rel●ntl●sse fate about to end  
The line which backward does so far extend,  
That antique stock which still the world supplye●  
With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes.  
Kind Phoebus interposing bid me say  
Such storms no more shall shake that house, but they  
Like Neptune, and his seaborn niece shall be  
The shining glories of the Land and Sea:  
With courage guard, and beauty warm our age,  
And lovers fill with like poetic rage.   

On the friendship betwixt Sacharissa and Amorett.  

TEll me lovely loving pair,  
Why so kind, and so severe?  
Why so careless of our care,  
Only to prove yourselves so dear?   

By this cunning change of hearts,  
You the power of love control,  
While the boys deluded darts,  
Can arrive at neither soul.   

For in vain to either breast  
Still beguiled love does come,  
Where he finds a foreign g●uest.  
Neither of your hearts at home.   

Debtors thus with like design,  
When they never mean to pay:  
That they may the Law decline,  
To some friend make all away.   

Not the silver Doves that fly,  
Yoked in Cithar●●s carr,  
Not the wings that lift so high,  
And convey her son so far.   

Are so lovely, sweet, and fair,  
Or do more enable love,  
Are so choicely matched a pair,  
Or with more content do move.    

A la Malade.  
AH lovely Am●ret the care  
Of all that know what's good or faire●  
Is Heaven become our rival too,  
Had the rich gifts conferred on you.  
So amply thence the common end,  
Of giving Lovers to pretend.  
Hence to this pining sickness  
To weary thee to a con●ents meant  
Of leaving us) no power is given,  
Thy beauties to impair the heaven:  
Solicits thee with such a care,  
As Roses from their stalks we tore:  
When we would still preserve them new,  
And fresh as on the bush they grew.  
With such a grace you entertain,  
And look with such contempt on pain  
That languish in you, conquer more,  
And wound us deeper than before.  
The lightnings which in storms appear,  
Scorch more than when the skies are clear.  
And as pale sickness does invade  
Your frailer part, the breaches made  
In that fair lodging still more clear,  
Make the bright guest your soul appear.  
So nymphs o'er pathless mountains born,  
Their light robes by the brambles torn  
From their fair limbs, exposing new  
And unknown beauties to the view,  
Of following gods increase their flame,  
And haste to catch the flying Game.   

Of her Chamber.  
THey taste of death that do at Heaven arrive,  
But we this Paradise approach alive.  
Instead of death the dart of love does strike,  
And renders all within, these walls alike:  
The high in titles and the shepherd here  
Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear:  
All stand amazed and gazing on the fair  
Loose thought of what themselves or others are:  
Ambition loose, and have no other scope,  
Save Carliles' favour to employ their hope.  
The Thracian could (though all those tales were true  
The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do,  
Before his feet, so sheep and Lions lay  
Fearless and wrathlesse while they heard him play  
The Gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave,  
Subdued alike all▪ but one passion have:  
No worthy mind but finds in hers there is  
Something proportioned to the rule of his:  
Whilst she with cheerful, but impartial grace,  
(Born for no one, but to delight the race  
Of men) like Phoebus, so divides her light,  
And warms us that she stoops not from her height.   

Of loving at first sight.  

NOt caring to observe the wind,  
Or the new sea explore,  
Snatched from myself how far behind,  
Already I behold the shore.   

May not a thousand dangers sleep  
In the smooth bosom of this deep?  
No: 'tis so rocklesse, and so clear,  
That the rich bottom does appear   

Paved all with precious things not torn  
From shipwrecked vessels, but there borne.   

Sweetness, truth, and every grace,  
Which time and youth are wont to teach,  
The eye may in a moment reach,  
And read distinctly in her face  
Some other Nymph with colours faint,  
And pencil slow may Cupid paint;  
And a weak heart in time destroy,  
She has a stamp and prints the boy,  
Can with a single look inflame  
The coldest breast, the rudest tame.    

The self banished.  

IT is not that I love you less  
Than when before your feet I lay:  
But to prevent the sad increase  
Of hopeless love, I keep away.   

In vain (alas) for every thing  
Which I have known belong to you:  
Your form does to my fancy bring,  
And make my old wounds bleed a●●W.   

Whom the spring from the new sun,  
Already has a fever got;  
Too la●●●●gins those shafts to shun  
Which Phoebus through his veins has shot.   

Too late he would the pain assuage,  
And to thick shadows does retire;  
About with him he bears the rage,  
And in his tainted bl●ud the fire.   

But vowed I have, and never must  
Your banished servant trouble you;  
For if I break you may mistrust  
The vow I make to love you too.    

Of the Queen.  

THe lark that shuns on lofty bough to build  
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field:  
But if the promise of a cloudless day,  
Aurora smiling bids her rise and play:  
Then straight she shows 'twas not for want of voice,  
Or power to climb, she made so low a choice;  
Singing she mounts, her angry wings are stretched  
Towards heaven, as if from heaven her note she fetched.   

So we retiring from the busy throng,  
Use to restrain th'ambition of our song;  
But since the light which now informs our age  
Breaks from the court indulgent to her rage:  
Thither my Muse, like bold P●●metheus flies  
To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes.   

Those sovereign beams which heal the wounded soul,  
And all our cares, but once beheld control;  
There the p●or lover that has l●ng endured  
Some proud nymph's scorn, of his fond passion cur●d;   

Fares like the man who first upon the ground  
A glowworm spied, supposing he had found  
A moving Diamond, a breathing stone  
(For life it had, and like those jewels shone:)  
He held it dear till by the springing day  
Informed he threw the worthless worm away.   

She saves the lover as we gangreen stay  
By cutting hope like a lopped limb away:  
This makes her bleeding patients to accuse  
High heaven, and these expostulations use:  
Could nature then no private woman grace  
(Whom we might dare to love) with such a face,  
Such a compl●xion, and so radiant eyes,  
Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies?  
Beyond our reach, and yet within our sight,  
What envious power has placed this glorious light?   

Thus in a starry night fond children cry  
F●● the rich spangles that adorn the sky,  
Which though th●y shine for ever fixed there,  
With light and influence relieve us here.  
A●● her affections are to one incli●'d,  
〈…〉 and compassion to mankind:  
To whom while she so far ex●ends her grace,  
She ●akes but good the promise of her face:  
Fo● mercy has (could mercy's self be seen)  
No 〈…〉 then this prop●tious Queen;  
Such guard and comfort the distressed find  
From her large 〈◊〉, and from her larger mind,  
That whom 〈◊〉 would ruin, it prefers,  
For all the miserable are 〈◊〉 ●ers.  
So the fair tree whereon the Eagle builds  
Poor sheep from tempest, and their 〈◊〉 shields.   

The royal bird possesses, all the bows,  
But shade and shelter to the ●lock allows.   

Joy of our age, and safety of the next,  
For which so oft thy fertile womb is ●ext:  
Nobly contented, for the public good  
To waste thy spirits, and diffu●e thy blood:  
What vast hopes may these Islands entertain,  
Where Monarchs thus descended are to reign?  
Led by commanders of so fair a line,  
Our Seas no longer shall our power confine.   

A brave Romance who would exactly frame,  
First brings his Knight from some immortal Dame:  
And then a weapon, and a flaming shield,  
Bright as his mother's eyes he makes him wield.  
None might the mother of Achilles be,  
But the fair pearl, and glory of the Sea.  
The man to whom great Maro gives such fame  
From the high bed of heavenly Venus came;  
And our next Charles, (whom all the stars design  
Like wonders to accomplish) springs from thine.    

SONG.  

Go lovely rose,  
Tell her that wastes her time and me,  
That now she knows  
When I resemble her to thee  
How sweet and fair she seems to be.   

Tell her that's young,  
And shuns to have her grace spied  
That hadst thou sprung  
In deserts where no men abide,  
Thou must have uncommonded dy'd.   

Small is the worth  
Of beauty from the light retired;  
Bid her come forth,  
Suffer herself to be desired,  
And not blush so to be admired.   

Then die that she,  
The common fate of all things rare  
May read in thee  
How small a part of time they share,  
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.    

Thirsis, Galatea.  Th. 
AS lately I on Silver Thames did ride,  
Sad Gal●tea, on the bank I spied:  
Such was her look as sorrow taught to shine,  
And thus she grac●t me with a voice divine.  Gal. 
You that can tune your sounding strings so well  
Of Lady's beauties, and of love to tell;  
Once change your note, and let your Lut● report  
The justest grief that ever touch●t the Court.  Th. 
Fair nymph, I have in your delights no ●●●re,  
Nor ought to be concerned in your care:  
Yet would I sing if I your sorrows knew,  
And to my aid invoke no Muse but you.  Gal. 
Hear then, and let your song augment our gri●●  
Which is so great as not to wish relief:  
She that had all which nature gives or chance,  
Whom fortune joined with virtue to advance,  
To all the joys this Island could afford  
The greatest Mistress, and the kindest Lord:  
Who with the royal mixed her Noble blood,  
And in high grace with Gloriana stood.  
Her bounty, sweetness, beauty, goodness, such,  
That none ere thought her happiness too much:  
So well inclined her favours to confer,  
And kind to all, as Heaven had been to her:  
The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife,  
So well she a●ted in this span of life;  
That though few years (too few alas) she told,  
She seemed in all things but in beauty old.  
As unripe fruit, whose verdant stalks do cleave  
Close to the tree, which grieves no less to leave  
The smiling pendant which adorns her so,  
And 〈◊〉 autumn, on the bough shou●d grow:  
So 〈◊〉 her youthful soul not easily forced.  
Or from so fair, so sweet a seat divorced:  
H●r fare at once did hasty seem and slow,  
At once too cruel and unwilling too.  Th. 
Under how hard a law are mortals born,  
Whom now we engage, we anon must mourn:  
What Heaven sets highest, and seems not to prize,  
Is soon removed from our wondering eyes:  
But since the sisters did so soon untwine  
So 〈◊〉 a thread, 〈◊〉 strive to piece the line.  
Vouchsafe sad Nymph to let me know the Dame,  
And to the Muses I'll commend her name:  
Make the wide Country echo to your moan,  
The listening trees and savage mountains groan:  
What rocks not moved when the death is sung  
Of one so good, so lovely, and so young.  Gal. 
'Twas Hamilton whom I had named before,  
But naming her; grief lets me say no more.   

Tabula Phoebi & Daphnis.  
ARcadia juvenis Thirsis, Phoebique sacerdos,  
Ingenti frustra Galateae ardebat amore.  
Haud Deus ipse o●●m Daphni majora canebat,  
Nec fuit asperior Daphne, neo pulc●rior illa:  
Carminibus Phoebo dignis premit ille fugacem  
Per rupes, per saxa, volans per florida vates  
Pascua, formosam nunc his componere Nimpham,  
Hunc illis crudelem insana m●nte solebat:  
Audiit illa proculmiserum Citheramque sonant●m,  
Audiit at nullis respexit mota querelis;  
Ne tamen omnino caneret, desertus ad alta  
Sidera perculsi, referunt nova carmina mon●●●;  
Sic non quaesitis cumulatus laudibus olim  
Elapsa reperit Daphni sua laurea Phoebus.   

The battle of the Summer Islands.  

Canto I.  

What fruit they have, and how heaven smiles  
Upon those late discovered lsles.   

Aid me Bell●na while the dreadful fight  
Betwixt a Nation and two Whales I write:  
Seas stained with gore, I sing advent●rous toil,  
And how these Monsters did disarm an I●le.  
Bermud●● walled with rocks, who does not know  
That happy Island where h●ge Lemons grow,  
And Orange trees which golden fruit do bear,  
the Hesperian garden boasts of ●●ne so fair?  
Where shining pearl, coral, and many a pound  
On the rich shore, of ambergris is found:  
The lofty Cedar which to heaven aspires,  
The Prince of trees is fuel for their fires:  
The smoke by which their loaded spits do turn  
For incense, might on sacred Altars burn.  
There private roofs on odorous timber borne,  
Such as might palaces for Kings adorn:  
The sweet Palmettas', a new Bacchus yield  
With leaves as ample as the broadest shield:  
Under the shadow of whose friendly boughs  
They fit carousing, where their liquour grows:  
Figs there unplanted through the fields do grow,  
Such as fierce Cato did the Romans show;  
With the rare fruit inviting them to spoil,  
Carthage the Mistress of so rich a soil:  
The naked rocks are not unfruitful there,  
But at some const●nt seasons every year:  
Their barren top with loucious food abound,  
And with the eggs of various fowls are crowned:  
Tobacco is their worst of things which they  
To English landlords as their Tribute pay:  
Such is the mould, that the blessed tenant feeds  
On precious fruits, and pays his rent in weeds:  
With candid plantines and the jucy Pine,  
On choicest Melons and sweet Grapes they dine,  
And with potatoes fat their wanton Swine:  
Nature these Cates with such a lavish hand  
Powers out among them, that our cou●●er Land  
Tastes of that bounty, and does Cloth return,  
Which not for warmth, but ornament is worn:  
For the kind Spring which but salutes us here  
Inhabits there, and courts them all the year:  
Ripe fruits and blossoms, on the same trees live,  
At once they promise what at once they give:  
So sweet the air, so moderate the clime,  
None sickly lives, or dies before his time.  
Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncurst  
To show how all things were created first:  
The tardy plants in our cold Orchards placed,  
Reserve their fruits for the next ages taste:  
There a small grain in some few months will be  
A firm, a lofty, and a spacious tree:  
The Parma christi, and the fair Papah,  
Now but a seed (preventing nature's law)  
In half the circle of the hafty year  
Project a shade, and lovely fruit do wear:  
And as their trees in our dull Region set  
But faintly grow, and no perfection get:  
So in this Northern tract our hoa●●er throats  
Utter unripe and ill constrained notes,  
Where the supporter of the poet's stile,  
Phoebus on them eternally does smile.  
O how I long my careless limbs to lay  
Under the plantanes shade, and all the day  
With amorous eyes my fancy entertain,  
Invoke the Muses, and improve my vein:  
No passion there in my free breasts should move,  
None but the sweet and best of passions love:  
There while I sing if gentle love be by  
That tunes my lute, and winds the strings so high:  
With the sweet sound of Sacharissa's name,  
I'll make the listening savages grow tame.  
But while I do these pleasing dreams indite,  
I am diverted from the promised ●ight.    

Canto II.  

Of their affright, and how their foes  
Discovered were, this Canto shows.   

THough Rocks so high about this island rise,  
That well they may the numerous Turk despise;  
Yet is no human fate exempt from fear  
Which shakes their hearts, while through the I'll they hea●  
A lasting noise, as horrid and as loud  
As thunder makes before it breaks the cloud.  
Three days they dread this murmur ere they know  
From what blind cause th'unwonted sound may grow:  
At length two monsters of unequal size  
Hard by the shore a sisher man espies;  
Two mighty Whales, which swellings Seas had tossed,  
And left them prisoners on the rocky coast,  
One as a mountain vast, and with her came  
A Cub not much inferior to his Dam:  
Here in a pool among the Rocks engaged,  
They roared like Lions caught in toils and raged:  
The man knew what they were, who heretofore  
Had seen the like lie murdered on the shore,  
By the wild fury of some tempest cast  
The fate of ships and shipwrecked men to taste;  
As careless dames whom wine and sleep betray  
To frantic dreams their Infants overlay:  
So there sometime the raging Ocean fails,  
And her own brood exposes when the Whales  
Against sharp Rocks like reeling vessels quashed,  
Though huge as mountains, are in pieces dashed;  
Along the shore their dreadful limbs lie scattered,  
Like hills with ear hquakes shaken, torn and shattered:  
Heart sure of bras●e they had who tempted first,  
Rude Seas that spare not what themselves have nursed.  
The welcome news through all the Nation spread,  
To sudden joy and hope converts their dread.  
What lately was their public terror, they  
Behold with glad eyes as a ce●taine prey;  
Dispose already of th'untaken spoil,  
And as if purchase of their future toil,  
These share the bones▪ and they div●le the oil▪  
So was the 〈◊〉 man by the Bear oppressed,  
Whose hide he sold before he caught the beast.   

They man their Boats, and all their young men arm  
With whatsoever may the monster's harm;  
Pikes, halberts, spits and darts, that wound so far  
The tools of peace, and instruments of war:  
Now was the time for vigrous lads to show  
What love or honour could invite them too;  
A goodly Theatre where rocks are rou●d  
With reverend age, and lovely lasses crowned:  
Such was the lake which held this dreadful pare  
Within the bounds of noble Warwick's share:  
Warwick● bold Earl, than which no title bears  
A greater sound among our British Peers:  
And worthy he the memory to renew  
The fate and honour, to that title due;  
Whose brave adventures have transferred his name,  
And through the new world spread his growing fame.  
But how they fought, and what their valour gained,  
Shall in another Ca●●o be contained.    

Canto III.  

The bl●udy fight, successless toil,  
And how the Fish sacked the Isle.   

THe Boat which on the first assault did go  
Stroke with a harping Iron the younger foe▪  
Who when he felt his side so rudely gored  
Loud as the Seas that nourished him he roared;  
As a broad bream to please some curious taste,  
While yet alive in boiling water cast;  
〈◊〉 with unwonted heat, boyles, flings about  
The sco●ching brass, and h●rles the liquour out:  
So with the barbed javelin stung, he raves,  
And scourges with his tail the suffering waves;  
Like fairy Talas with his iron slayle,  
He threatens ruin with his ponderous tail;  
Dissolving at one stroke the battered Boat,  
And down the men fall drenched in the moat:  
With every fierce encounter they are forced  
To quit their boats, and fare like men unhorsed.  
The bigger Whale like some huge carack lay,  
Which wanteth Sea room, with her foes to play;  
Slowly she swims, and when provoked she would  
Advance her tail, her head salutes the mud.  
The shallow water doth her force infringe,  
And renders vain her tails impet●ous swing.  
The shining steel her tender sides receive,  
And there like Bees they all their weapons leave.  
This sees the Cub, and does himself oppose  
Betwixt his cumbered mother and her foes:  
With desperate courage he receives her wounds,  
And men and boats his active tail confounds.  
Their surges joined, the Seas with billows fill,  
And make a tempest, though the winds be still.  
Now would the men with half their hoped prey  
Be well content, and wish this cub away:  
Their wish they have, he to direct his dam  
Unto the gap through which they thither came,  
Before her swims, and quits the hostile lake,  
A prisoner there, but for his mother's sake.  
She by the Rocks compelled to stay behind,  
Is by the vastness of her bulks confined.  
They shout for joy, and now on her alone  
Their fury falls, and all their darts are thrown:  
Their lances spent; one bolder than the rest  
With his broad sword provoked the sluggish beast:  
Her oily side devours blade and yet,  
And there his Steel the bold Bermudian left.  
Courage the rest from his example take,  
And now they change the colour of the lake.  
Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side,  
As if they would prevent the tardy tide;  
And raise the flood to that propitious height,  
As might convey her from this fatal straight.  
She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw  
To heaven, that Heaven men's cruelties might know.  
Their fixed javelins in her side she wears,  
And on her back a grove of pikes appears.  
You would have thought had you the monster seen  
Thus dressed, she had another I sland been:  
Roaring she tears the air with such noise,  
(As well resembled with conspiring voice  
Of routed Armies, when the field is won)  
To reach the ears of her escaped son.  
He (though a league escaped from the foe)  
Hasts to her aid, the pious Trojan so  
Neglecting for Creusa's life his own,  
Repeats the danger of the burning Town,  
The men amazed blush to see the seed  
Of monsters, human piety exceed,  
Well proves this kindness what the Grecians sung,  
That loves bright mother from the Ocean sprung.  
Their courage droops, and hopeless now they wish  
For composition with th'unconquered fish:  
So she their weapons would restore again,  
Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main.  
But how instructed in each others mind,  
Or what commerce can men with monsters find.  
Not daring to approach their wounded ●o,  
Whom her courageous son protected so:  
They charge their musket, and with hot desire  
Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire.  
Standing aloof with lead, they bruise the scales,  
And tore the flesh of the incensed Whales.  
But no success their fierce endeavours found,  
Not this way could they give one fatal wound▪  
Now to their Fort they are about to send  
For the loud Engines which their Isle defend.  
But what those pieces framed to batter walls  
Would have effected on those mighty Whales,  
Great Neptune will not have us know, who finds  
A tide so high that it relieves his friends.  
And thus they parted with exchange of harms,  
Much blood the monsters lost, and they their Arms.     

Upon the death of my Lady Rich.  
MAy those already cu●st Essexian plains,  
Where hasty death and pining sickness reigns,  
Prove all a desert, and none there make stay,  
But savage beasts, or men as ill as they.  
There the fair light which all our Island graced,  
Like Hero's taper in the windows placed;  
Such fate from the malignant air did find,  
As that exposed to the boisterous wind.  
Ah cruel Heaven to snatch so soon away  
Her, for whose life had we had time to pray,  
With thousand vows and tears we should have sought,  
That sad decrees suspension to have wrought.  
But we (alas) no whisper of her pain,  
Heard till 'twas sin to wish her here again.  
That horrid word at once like lightning spread,  
Struck all our ears, The Lady Rich is dead.  
Heart rending news, and dreadful to those few  
Who her resemble, and her steps pursue.  
That death should licence have to rage among  
The fair, the wise, the virtuous, and the young.  
The Paphian Queen from that fierce battle born,  
With gored hand and veil so rudely torn:  
Like terror did among th'immortals breed,  
Taught by her wound that God●sses might bleed:  
All stand amazed, but 〈◊〉 the rest  
Th'heroique D●me whose happy womb she blessed,  
Moved with just grief expostulates with Heaven,  
Urging that promise to th'obsequious given,  
Of longer life, for ne'er was pious soul  
More apt t'obey, more worthy to control.  
A skilful eye at once, might read the race  
Of Caledonian Monarchs in her face;  
And sweet humility her look and mind,  
At once were lofty, and at once were kind.  
There dwelled the scorn of vice, and pity too,  
For those that did what she disdained to do:  
So gentle and severe, that what was bad  
At once her hatred and her pardon had.  
Gracious to all, but where her love was due,  
So fast, so faithful, loyal and so true,  
That a bold hand as soon might hope to force  
The rolling lights of Heaven, as change her course.  
Some happy Angel that beholds her there,  
Instruct us to record what she was here:  
And when this cloud of so●row's overblown,  
Through the wide world we'll make her graces known.  
So fresh the wound is, and the grief so vast,  
That all our art and power of speech is waste.  
Here passion sways; but there the Muse shall raise  
Eternal monuments of louder praise.  
There our delight complying with her fame,  
Shall have occasion to recite thy name,  
Fair Sacharissa, and now only fair,  
To sacred friendship we'll an Altar rear  
Such as the Romans did erect of old,  
Where on a marble pillar shall be told  
The lovely passion each to other bare,  
With the resemblance of that matchless pair,  
Narciss●s to the thing for which he pined,  
Was not more like than yours to her fair mind:  
Save that you graced the several part of life,  
A spotless Virgin, and a faultless wife.  
Such was the sweet converse twixt her and you,  
As that she holds with her associates now.  
How false is hope, and how regardless fate,  
That such a love should have so short a date?  
Lately I saw her sighing part from thee  
(Alas that that the last farewell should bell)  
So looked Astr●●, her remove designed  
On those distressed friends she left behind:  
Consent in virtue knit your heart so fast,  
That still the knot in spite of death does last:  
For as your tears and sorrow-wounded soul  
Prove well that on your part this bond is whole:  
So all we know of what they do above  
Is that they happy are, and that they love;  
Let dark oblivion and the hollow grave  
Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have:  
Well chosen love is never taught to die,  
But with our nobler part invades the sky:  
Then grieve no more, that one so heavenly shaped  
The crooked hand of trembling age escaped;  
Rather since we behold her not decay,  
But that she vanished so entire away:  
Her wondrous beauty and her goodness merit,  
We should suppose that some propitious spirit,  
In that celestial form frequented here,  
And is not dead, but ceases to appear▪   

To the Queen Mother upon her Landing.  
GReat Queen of Europe where thy off spring wears  
All the chief Crowns, whose Princes are thy heirs  
As welcome thou to Sea girt Britain's shore▪  
As ●rst Latona (who fair Cynthia bore)  
To Delos was. Here shines a Nymph as bright,  
By thee disclosed, with like increase of light.  
Why was her joy in Belgia confined?  
Or why did you so much regard the wind?  
Scarce could the Ocean (though enraged) have tossed  
Thy sovereign bark; but where th' obsequious Coast  
Pay tribute to thy bed: Rome's conquering hand  
More vanquished Nations under her command,  
Never reduced: glad Berecinthia, so  
Among her deathless progeny did go,  
A wreath of Towers adorned her reverend head,  
Mother of all that on Ambro●ia ●ed:  
Thy godly race must sway the age to come,  
As she Olympus, peopled with her womb,  
Would those Commanders of mankind obey  
Their honoured Parent, all pretences lay  
Down at your royal feet, compose the jars,  
And on the growing Turk discharge these wars:  
The Christian Knights that sacred tomb should wrest,  
From Pagan hands, and triumph o'er the East.  
The England's Princes, and Gallias Dolphin might  
Like young Rinaldo, and Tancredo fight  
In single combat; by their swords again  
The proud Argant●s, and fierce sultan's slain.  
Again, might we their deeds recite,  
And with your Tuscan exalt the sight▪   

SONG.  
PEace babbling Muse,  
I dare not sing what you indite:  
Her eyes refuse  
To read the passion which they write.  
She strikes my Lute, but if it sound,  
Threatens to hurl it on the ground.  
And I no less her anger dread,  
Than the poor wretch that feigns him dead.  
While some fierce Lion does embrace  
His breathless corpse, and lick his face.  
Wrapped up in silent fears he lies,  
Torn all in pieces if he cries.   

Of Love.  
ANger in hasty words or blows,  
Itself discharges on our foes.  
And sorrow too, finds some relief,  
In tears which wait upon our grief.  
So every passion but fond love  
Unto its own redress does move.  
But that alone the wretch inclines  
To what prevents his own designs:  
Makes him lament, and sigh, and weep,  
Disordered, tremble, fawn and creep,  
Postures which render him despised,  
Where he endeavours to be prized▪  
For women borne to be controlled  
Stoop to the forwards and the bold,  
Affect the haughty and the proud,  
The gay and frolic, and the loud;  
Who first the generous steed oppressed▪  
Not kneeling did salute the beast;  
But with high courage life and force  
Approaching, tamed th'unruly horse:  
Unwisely we, the wiser East  
Pity supposing them oppressed  
With tyrant's force whose law is will,  
By which they govern, spoil and kill  
Each Nymph, but moderately fair,  
Command with no less rigour here.  
Should some brave Turk that walks among  
His twenty Lasses bright and young,  
And beckons to the willing Dame  
Preferred to quench his present flame:  
Behold as many Gallants here.  
With modest guise, and silent fear,  
All to our female idol bend,  
Whilst her high pride does scarce descend;  
To mark their follies he would swear  
That these her guard of Eunuchs were;  
And that a more majestic Queen,  
Or humbler slaves he had not seen.  
All this with indignation spoke,  
In vain I struggled with the yoke  
Of mighty love, that conquering look,  
When next beh●ld like lightning struck  
My blasted soul, and made me bow  
Lower than those I pitied now.  
So the tall Stag upon the brink  
Of some smooth stream about to drink●:  
Surveying there his armed head,  
With shame remembers that he fled.  
The scorned dogs resolves to try  
The combats next, but if their cry  
Invades again his trembling ear,  
He straight resumes his wonted fear.  
Leaves the untasted Spring behind,  
And winged with fear out-flyes the wind.   

To the mutable fair.  
HEre Celia for thy sake I part  
With all that grew so near my heart:  
The passion that I had for thee,  
The faith, the love, the constancle▪  
And that I may successful prove,  
Transform myself to what you love.  
Fool that I was so much to prize  
Those simple virtues you despise.  
Fool that with such dull arrows strove,  
Or hoped to reach a flying Dove.  
For you that are in motion still,  
Decline our force, and mock our skill.  
Who like Don Quix●t do advance  
Against a windmill our vain lance.  
Now will I wander through the air,  
Mount make a stoop at every fair,  
And with a fancy unconfined  
(As lawless as the Sea or wind)  
Pursue you whereso●re you fly,  
And with your various thoughts comply.  
The formal stars do travel so,  
As we their names and courses know,  
And he that on their changes looks,  
Would think they governed by our books.  
But never were the clouds reduced  
To any Art, the motion us'de:  
By these free vapours are so light,  
So frequent, that the conquered sight  
Despair to find he rules that guide  
Those gilded shadows as they slide.  
And therefore of the spacious air  
Jove's royal consort had the care:  
And by that power did once escape,  
Declining bold ●xions rape.  
She with her own resemblance graced,  
A shining cloud which he embraced.  
Such was that Image so it smiled,  
With seeming kindness which begui●'d  
Your Thirsis lately when he thought  
He had his fleeting Celia caught.  
'twas shaped like her, but for the fair  
He fil●'d his arms with yielding air.  
A fate for which he grieves the less,  
Because the gods had like success.  
For in their story one (we see)  
Pursues a 〈◊〉, and takes a tree.  
A second with a Lovers haste  
Soon overtakes whom he had chased.  
But she that did a virgin seem  
〈◊〉, appears a wand●ing stream.  
〈◊〉 his suppo●ed love a third  
〈◊〉 greedy hold upon a bird:  
〈◊〉 stands amazed to find his dear,  
A wild inhabitant of th'air.  
To these old tales such Nymphs as you  
Give credit, and still make them new.  
The amorous now like wonders find  
In the swift changes of your mind.  
But Coeli● if you apprehend  
The Muse of your incensed friend:  
Nor would that he record your blame,  
And make it live repeat the same.  
Again deceive him and again,  
And then he swears he'll not complain.  
For still to be deluded so,  
Is all the pleasures Lovers know.  
Who, like good falconers take delight,  
Not in the quarry, but the flight.   

Of Salley.  
OF Jason, These●s and such worthies old,  
Light seem the tales antiquity has told:  
Such beasts and monsters as their force oppressed  
Some places only, and sometimes infest.  
Salley that scorned all power and laws of men,  
Goods with their owners hurrying to their den.  
And future ages threatening with a crude  
And savage race successively renewed.  
Their king despising with rebellious pride,  
And foes professed to all the world beside,  
This pest of mankind gives our Hero fame,  
And through th'obliged world dilates his name.  
The Prophet once to cruel Agag said,  
As thy fierce sword has mother's childless made:  
So shall the sword make thine: and with that word  
He hewed the man in pieces with his sword.  
Just Charles like measure has returned to these,  
Whose Pagan hands had stained the troubled Seas;  
With ships they made the spoilt Merchant mourn,  
With ships their City and themselves are torn.  
O●e squadron of our winged Castles sent  
O'erthrew their Fort, and all their Navy rent.  
For not content the dangers to increase,  
And act the part of tempest in the Seas,  
Like hungry wolves these pirates from our shore,  
Whole flocks of sheep and ravished cattle bore.  
Safely they did on other Na●ions prey,  
Fools ●o provoke the sovereign of the Sea.  
Mad Cacus●o whom like ill fate persuades  
The heard of fair Alcmena's seed invades.  
Who fo● reve●ge, and mortals glad relief,  
Sacked the dark cave, and crushed that horrid thief.  
Moroccoes Monarch wondering at this fact,  
Save that his presence his affairs exact,  
Had come in person to have seen and known  
The injured world's revenger, and his own.  
Hither he sends the chief among his Peers,  
Who in his bark well chosen presents bears  
To the renowned for piety and force,  
Poor captives manumized and matchless horse.   

To Mrs. Braughton.  
Fair fellow servant may your gentle ●are  
Prove more propitious to my ●leighted care:  
Then the bright Dames we serve, for her relief,  
(Vexed with the long expressions of my grief)  
Receive these plaints, nor will her high disdain  
Forbid my humble Muse to court her train.  
So in those Nations which the Sun adore,  
Some modest Persian, or some weak eyed More,  
No higher dares advance his dazzled sight  
Then to some gilded cloud, which near the light  
Of their ascending God adorns the East,  
And graced with his beams outshines the rest.  
Thy skilful hand contributes to our woe,  
And whets those arrows which confounds us so:  
A thousand Cupid's in those curls do 〈◊〉,  
Those curious nets those slender fingers knit.  
The graces put not more exactly on  
Th'attire of Venus, when the ●all she won,  
Than Sacharissa by thy c●re is dressed,  
When all our youth prefers her to the rest.  
You the soft seasons know when best her mind  
May be to pity or to love inclined,  
In some well chosen hour supply his fear,  
Whose hopeless love durst never tempt the ●are  
Of that stern godd●fse you (her Priest) decl●re  
What offerings ma● propitiate the fair  
Rich orient pearl, bright stones that near decay,  
Or polished lines which longer last than they.  
For if I thought she took delight in those,  
To where the cheerful morn does first disclose,  
(The shady night removing of her beams)  
Winged with bold love, I'd sly to fetch such gems.  
But since her eyes, her teeth her lip excels  
All that is found in mines, or fishes shells:  
Her nobler part as far exceeding these,  
None but immortal gifts her mind can please.  
Those shining jewels Greece and Troy bestowed,  
The snowy wrists and lovely neck did load,  
Of Sparta's Queen. But when the town was burned,  
Those fading glories were to Ashes turned:  
Her beauty too had perished, and her fame,  
Had not the muse redeemed them from the flame.   

Puerperium.  

YOu Gods that have the power,  
To trouble, and compose  
All that's beneath your bower,  
Calm silence on the Seas, on earth impose.   

Fair V●nus in thy soft arms,  
The God of rage confine,  
For thy whispers are the charms  
Which only can divert his fierce design.   

What though he frown, and to tumult do incline,  
Thou the flame,  
Kindled in his breast canst tame,  
With that snow which unmelted lies on thine?   

Great goddess give this thy sacred ●sland rest,  
make heaven smile,  
That no storm disturb us, while  
Thy chief care our Halcyon builds her nest.   

Great Gloriana: fair Gloriana,  
Bright as high heaven is, and fertile as earth,  
Whose beauty relieves us,  
Whose royal bed gives us  
Both glory and peace.  
Our present joy and our hopes increase.    

To Phillis.  
PHillis, why should we delay  
Pleasures shorter than the day?  
Could we (which we never can)  
Stretch our lives beyond their span?  
Beauty like a shadow flies,  
And our youth before us dies,  
Or would youth and beauty stay,  
Love hath wings and will away.  
Love hath swifter wings than time,  
Change in love to heaven does climb.  
Gods that never change their state,  
Varied oft their love and hate.  
Phillis, to this truth we owe,  
All the love betwixt us two:  
Let not you and I inquire,  
What has been our past desire,  
On what Shepherds you have smiled,  
Or what Nymphs I have beguiled.  
Leave it to the Planets too,  
What we shall hereafter do:  
For the joys we now may prove,  
Take advice of present love.   

To Phillis:  
PHillis, 'twas love that injured you,  
And on that rock your Thirsis threw,  
Who for proud Celia could have dy'd,  
Whilst you no less accused his pride.  
Fond Love his darts at random throws,  
And nothing springs from what he sows,  
From foes discharged as often meet,  
The shining points of arrows fleet,  
In the wide air creating fire,  
As souls that join in one desire.  
Love made the lovely Venus burn  
In vain, and for the cold youth mourn;  
Who the pursuit of churlish beasts,  
Preferred to sleeping on her breasts.  
Love makes so many hearts the prize,  
Of the bright Calisles conquering eyes,  
Which she regards no more than they,  
The tears of lesser beauties weigh.  
So have I seen the lost clouds pour,  
Into the sea a useless shower,  
And the vexed sailors curse the rain,  
For which poor shepherds prayed in vain.  
Then Phillis, since our passions are  
Governed by chance, and not the care  
But sport of Heaven, which takes delight  
To look upon this Parthian flight  
Of Love, still flying or in chase,  
Never encountering face to face▪  
No more to love we'll sacrific●,  
But to the best of Deities.  
And let our hearts which love disjoined,  
By his kind Mother be combined.   

SONG.  

While I listen to thy voice,  
Chloris, I feel my life decay,  
That powerful noise  
Calls my flitting soul away.  
Oh suppress that magic sound,  
Which destroys without a wound!   

Peace Chloris peace, or singing die,  
That together you and I,  
To heaven may go,  
For all we know:  
Of what the blessed do above  
Is that they sing, and that they love.    

SONG.  
STay Phoebus, stay,  
The world to which you fly so fast:  
Conveying day,  
From us to them can pay your haste,  
With no such object, nor salute your ris●  
With no such wonder, as de Mornay's eyes.  
Well do this prove,  
The error of those Antique books,  
Which made you move,  
About the world her charming looks  
Would fix your beams, and make it ever day,  
Did not the rolling earth snatch her away.   

To Amoretta.  

AMoret, thy milky way,  
Framed of many nameless stars,  
The smooth stream where none can say,  
He this drop to that prefers.   

Amoretta, my lovely foe,  
Tell me where thy strength does lie,  
Where the power that charms us so,  
In thy soul, or in thy eye?   

By that snowy neck alone,  
Or thy grace in motion seen,  
No such wonders could be done▪  
Yet thy waste is straight and clean▪  
As Cupid's shaft, or Hermes rod,  
And powerful too as either God,    

To my Lord of Falkland.  
BRave Holland load, and with him Falkland goes,  
Who hears this told and does not straight suppose  
We send the Graces and the Muses forth,  
To civilize, and to instruct the North?  
Not that these Ornaments make swords less sharp,  
Apollo wears as well his bow as harp▪  
And though he be the Patron of that Spring,  
Where in calm peace, the sacred Virgins sing.  
He courage had to guard th' invaded throne  
Of Love, and cast th' ambitious Giants down.  
Ah (noble Friend) with what impatience all  
That know thy worth, and know how prodigal  
Of thy great soul thou art, longing to twist  
Bays with that Ivy, which so early kissed  
Thy youthful temples? with what horror we  
Think on the blind events of war and thee?  
To Fate exposing that all-knowing breast,  
Among the throng as cheaply as the rest:  
Where oaks and brambles (if the copse be burned)  
Confounded lie to the same ashes turned.  
Some happy wind over the Ocean blow  
This tempest yet, which heights our Island so.  
Guarded with ships, and all the Sea our own,  
From heaven this mischief on our heads is thrown.  
In a late dream the Genius of this Land,  
Amazed, I saw, like a fair Hebrew stand,  
When first she felt the twins begin to jar,  
And found her womb the seat of civil war:  
Inclined to whose relief, and with presage  
Of better fortune for the present age,  
Heaven send's, quoth I, this di●cord for our good,  
To warm, perhaps, but not to waste our blood,  
To raise our drooping spirits, grown the scorn  
Of our proud neighbours, who e'er long shall mourn,  
(Though now they joy in our expected harms)  
We had occasion to resume our arms.  
A lion so with self-provoking smart,  
His rebel tail scourging his nobler part,  
Calls up his courage, than begins to roar,  
And charge his foes, who thought him mad before.   

Of a Lady who writ in praise of Mira.  
WHile she pretends to make the Graces known,  
Of matchless Mira, she reveals her own,  
And when she would another's praise indite,  
Is by her glass instructed how to write.   

To one married to an old man.  
SInce thou wouldst needs, bewitched with some ill charms,  
Be buried in those monumental arms:  
All we can wish, is, may that earth lie light  
Upon the tender limbs, and so good night.   

For drinking of Healths.  
● Et bruits, and vegetals, that cannot think,  
So far as drought and nature urges drink:  
A more indulgent Mistres●e guides our sprights,  
Reason, that dares beyond our appetites,  
She would our ●are as well as thirst redress,  
And with Divinity rewards excess.  
Deserted Ar●adn● thus supplied,  
Did 〈◊〉 Theseus' cruelty deride,  
Bacchus 〈◊〉 from her exalted thought,  
B●●●sh'd the man, her passion, and his faut●  
Bacchus and P●oebus are by Jove allied,  
And each by others timely heat supplied:  
All that the Grapes owe to his lightning fires,  
Is paid in numbers which their juice inspires.  
Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood,  
To give our Friends a title to our blood:  
Who naming me, doth warm his courage so,  
Shows for my sake what his bold hand would do.   

To Flavia, Song:  

'tIs not your beauty can engage  
My wary heart:  
The Sun in all his pride and rage,  
Has not that Art:  
And yet he shines as bright as you,  
If brightness could our souls subdue.   

'tis not the pretty things you say,  
Nor those you write,  
Which can make Thirsis heart your prey,  
For that delight:  
The graces of a well-taught mind,  
In some of our own we find.   

No Flavia, 'tis your love, I fear  
love's surest darts,  
Those which so seldom fail him are  
Headed with hearts.  
Their very shadows make us yield,  
Dissemble well, and win the field.    

On my Lady Isabel playing on the Lute.  
SUch moving sounds, from such a careless touch,  
So unconcerned herself, and we so much:  
What Art is this, that with so little pains,  
Transports us thus, and o'er the spirit reigns?  
The trembling strings above her fingers proud,  
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud:  
Small force there needs to make thee tremble so,  
Touched by that hand; who would not tremble tro?  
Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the ear  
Empties his quiver on the listening deer:  
Music so softens and disarms the mind,  
That not an Arrow does resistance find.  
Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,  
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes,  
So Nero once with harp in hand, surveyd  
His flaming Rome, and as it burned he played.   

The Fall.  
SEe how the will-earth gives way  
To take th'impression where she lay:  
See how the mould as loath to leave  
So sweet a burden, still doth cleave  
Close to the Nymphs stained garment? here  
The coming Spring would first appear,  
And all this place with roses strew,  
If busy feet would let them grow.  
Here Venns smiled to see blind chance  
Itself, before her son advance,  
And a fair image to present  
Of what the Boy so long had meant:  
● was such a chance as this made all  
The World into this order fall:  
Thus the first lovers, on the clay  
Of which they were composed lay;  
So in their prime with equal grace  
Met the first patterns of our race:  
Then blush not (Fair) or on him frown,  
Or wonder how you both came down;  
But touch him, and he'll tremble straight,  
How could he then support your weight?  
How could the Youth alas, but bend  
When his whole heaven upon him leaned?  
If aught by him amiss were done,  
● was that he let you rise so soon.   

Of Silvia.  

OUr sighs are heard, just heaven declares  
The sense it has of lover's cares;  
She that so far the rest outshined,  
Silvia the fair whiles she was kind;  
As if her frowns impaired her brow,  
Seems only not unhandsome now:  
So when the sky makes us endure  
A storm, itself becomes obscure.   

Hence 'tis that I conceal my flame,  
Hiding from Flavia's self her name;  
Lest she provoking heaven should prove  
How it rewards neglected love;  
Better a thousand such as I  
Their grief untold should pine and die:  
Then her bright morning overcast  
With sullen clouds should be defaced.    

The Budd.  

LAtely on yonder swelling bus●●,  
Big with many a coming Rose,  
This early Bud began to blush,  
And did but half itself disclose;  
And plucked it, though no better g●owh●;  
Yet now you see how full 'tis blow●●;   

Still as I did the leaves inspire,  
With such a purple light they shone  
As if they had been made of fire,  
And ●preading so would flame anon:  
All that was meant by air or sun  
To the young flower my breath has done.   

If our loose breath so much can do,  
What may the same informes of love,  
Of purest love and music too  
When Flavia it aspires to move:  
When that which lifele●se buds per●wades  
To wax more ●oft her youth invades.    

To a Lady singing a Song of his composing.  

CHloris yourself you so excel  
When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought,  
That like a spirit with this spell  
Of my own teaching I am taught.   

That eagle's fate and mine are one  
Which on that shaft that made him die,  
Espied a feather of his own  
Wherewith he meant to soar so high.   

Had echo with so sweet a grace,  
Narcissns loud complaints returned,  
Not for reflection of his face:  
But of his voice the Boy had mourned.    

At the marriage of the Dwar●fes.  

THe sign or chance makes others wive,  
But nature did this match contrive;  
Eve might as well have Adam fled  
As she denied her little bed  
To him for whom heaven seemed to frame,  
And measure out this only dame.   

Thrice happy is that humble pair  
Beneath the level of all care;  
Over whose heads those arrows ●lye  
Of sad distrust and jealousy:  
Secured in as high extreme,  
As if the world held none but them.   

To him the fairest nymphs do show  
Like moving mountains top't with snow:  
And every Man a Polypheme  
Does to his Galatea seem:  
None may presume her faith to prove,  
He pro●fers death that proffers love.   

Ah (Cloris) that kind nature thus  
From all the world had severed us;  
Creating for ourselves us two,  
As love has me for only you.    

Upon Ben. Johnson.  
MIrror of Poets, mirror of our age!  
Which her whole face beholding on thy stage;  
Pleased and displeased with her own faults, endures  
A remedy like those whom music cures:  
Thou hast alone those various inclinations  
Which Nature gives to Ages, Sexes, Nations:  
Hast tracked with thy All-re●embling Pen  
What ever custom has imposed on men:  
Or ill got habit which deserts them so,  
That scarce one brother can the brother know,  
Is representing to the wondering eyes  
Of all that see or read thy Comedies:  
Who ever in those glasses look, may find  
The spots returned or graces of the mind:  
And by the help of so divine an Art  
At leisure view and dress his nobler part.  
Narcissus cozened by that ●latt'ring Well,  
And nothing could but of his beauty tell,  
Had here discovering that the deformed stat●  
Of his fond mind preserved himsel●e with hate;  
But virtue too as well as vice, is clad  
In flesh and blood so well, that Plato had  
Beheld what his high fancy once embraced,  
Virtue with colours, speech, and motion graced:  
The sundry postures of thy copious muse,  
Who would express a thousand tongues must use;  
Whose fate's no less peculiar than thy Art,  
For as thou couldst all characters impart:  
〈◊〉 none could render thine who still escapes  
●ike Prot●us in variety of shapes:  
Who was, nor this, nor that, but all we find,  
And all we can imagine in mankind.   

To Mr. George Sands, on his Translation of some parts of the Bible.  

HOw bold a work attempts that pen,  
Which would enrich our vulgar tongue,  
With the high raptures of those men,  
Who here with the same spirit sung:  
Wherewith they now assist the choir  
Of Angels, who their Songs admire?   

Whatever those inspired souls  
Were u●ged to express did shake,  
The aged deep and both the Poles  
Their numerous Thunder could awake  
Dull earth, which does with heaven consent,  
To all they wrote, and all they meant.   

Say (Sacred Bard) what could bestow  
Courage on thee, to ●oare so high?  
Tell me● (brave Friend) what helped thee so  
To shake off all mortality?  
To light this Torch thou hast climbed higher,  
Then he● who stole celestial fire.    

Chloris and Hilas.  Chl. 
HIlas o Hilas why sit we mute,  
Now that each bird saluteth the Spring:  
Wind up the slackened strings of thy Jute,  
Never canst thou want matter to sing?  
For love thy breast does fill with such a fire,  
That what●oe're is fair, moves thy desire,  Hil. 
Swe●test you know, the sweetest of things,  
Of various flowers the bees do compose,  
Yet no particular taste it brings  
Of Violet, woodbine, Pink, or Rose:  
So love the resultance is of all our graces  
Which ●low from a thousand several faces.  Chl. 
Hilas, the birds which chant in this grove,  
Could we but know their language they use,  
They would instruct us better in love,  
And reprehend thy inconstant muse:  
For love their breasts does fill with such a fire,  
That what they once do choose, bound their desire,  Hil. 
Chloris this change the birds do approve,  
Which the warm season hither does bring;  
Times from yourself does further remove  
You, than the winter from the gay Spring:  
She that like lightning shined while her face lasted,  
The oak now resembl●s which lightning have blasted.   

Under a Lady's Picture.  
SUch Helen was, and who can blame the Boy,  
That in so bright a flame consumed his Troy?  
But had like virtue shined in that fair Gre●k,  
The amorous shepherd had not dared to seek▪  
Or hope for pity, but with silent moan,  
And better fate had perished all alone.   

In answer of Sir John Sucklings verses.  Con. 
STay here fond youth, and ask no more, be wise,  
Knowing too much, long since lost Paradise.  Pro. 
And by your knowledge we should be bere●t  
Of all that Paradise which yet is left.  Con. 
The virtuous joys thou hast thou would●t should still  
Last in their pride, and wouldst not take it ill:  
If rudely from sweet dreams, and for a toy  
Thou awaked the wakes himself that does enjoy.  Pro. 
How can the joy or hope which you allow  
Be styled virtuous, and the end not so?  
Talk in your sleep and shadows still admire,  
'Tis true, he wakes that feels this real fire,  
But to sleep better; for who e'er drinks deep  
Of this Nepenthe, rocks himself asleep.  Con. 
Fruition adds no new wealth, but destroys,  
And while it pleaseth much yet still it cloys:  
Who thinks he shall be happier made for that,  
As reasonably might hope he might grow fat  
By eating to a surfeit, this once past,  
What relishes? even kisses lose their taste.  Pro. 
Blessings may be repeated, while they cloy,  
But shall we starve, cause surfeiting destroy?  
And if fruition did the taste impair  
Of kisses: why should yonder happy pair  
Where joys, just Hymen, warrants all the night  
Consume the day too in this le●●e delight.  Con. 
Urge not 'tis necessary; alas we know  
The homeliest thing that mankind does is so.  
The world is of a large extent we see,  
And must be peopled, children there must be,  
So must bread too, but s●●ce there are enough  
Borne to that drudgery, what need we plough?  Pro. 
I need not plough since what the stooping hind  
Gets of my pregnant land, must all be mine:  
But in this nobler tillage 'tis not so,  
For when Anchises did fair Venus know  
What interest had poor Vulcan in the boy,  
Great bold Aeneas, or the present joy.  Con. 
Women enjoyed what 〈◊〉 tofore they have been,  
Are like Romances read, or Scenes once seen:  
Fruition dulls, or spoils the play much more  
Then if one read, or knew the plot before.  Pro. 
Plays and Romances read, and seen, do fall  
In our opinions, yet not seen at all:  
Whom would they please? to an heroic tale,  
Would you not listen, lest it should grow stale?  Con. 
'tis expectation makes a blessing dea●e,  
Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were.  Pro. 
If't were not heaven, if we knew what it were,  
'twould not be Heaven to those that now are there.  Con. 
As in prospects we are there pleased most,  
Where something keeps the eye from being lost,  
And leaves room to gue●●e; so here restraint,  
Holds up delight, that with exce●se would faint.  Pro. 
Restraint preserves the pleasure we have got,  
But he n●ere has it, that enjoys it not.  
In goodly prospects who contracts the space,  
O●●akes not all the bounty of the place?  
We wish removed what ●tandeth in our light,  
And nature blamed for limiting our sight,  
Where you stand wisely winking at the view  
Of the 〈◊〉 prospect, may be always new.  Con. 
〈◊〉 who know all the wealth they have, are poor:  
〈◊〉 only rich that cannot tell his store.  Pro. 
Not he that knows the wealth he has is poor,  
But he that dares not touch nor use his store.   

To A. H: of the different success of their Loves.  
THrice happy pair of whom we cannot know,  
Which first began to love, or loves most now:  
Fair course of passion where two lovers start,  
And run together, heart still yoked in heart:  
Successful youth, whom love has taught the way,  
To be victorious in thy first essay.  
Sure love's an Art best practised at first,  
And where th' experienced still prosper worst.  
I with a different fate pursued in vain  
The haughty Celia, till my just disdain  
Of her neglect, above that passion born;  
Did pride to pride oppose, and scorn to scorn.  
Now s●ee relents, but all too late to move  
A heart diverted to a Nobler love:  
The scales are turned, her kingdom weighs no more,  
Now, than my vows and service did before:  
So in some well wrought hangings, you may see  
How Hector leads, and how the Grecians fly,  
Here the fierce Mars his courage so inspires,  
That with bold hands the Argive Fleet he ●ires,  
But there from heaven the blew eyed virgin falls,  
And frighted Troy retires within her walls.  
They that are foremost in that bloody place,  
Turn head anon and gives the conquerors chase:  
So like the chances are of love and war,  
That they alone in this distinguished are:  
In love the Victors from the vanquished fly,  
They fly that wound, and they pursue that die▪   

An apology for having loved before.  

THey that never had the use  
Of the Grapes surprising juice;  
To the first delicious cup,  
All their reason render up:  
Neither do nor care to know,  
Whether it be the best or no.   

So they that are to love inclined;  
Swayed by chance, not choice, or art:  
To the first that's fair or kind,  
Make a present of their heart:  
'tis not she that first we love,  
But whom dying we approve.   

To man that was i'th' evening made,  
Stars gave the first delight:  
Admiring in the glooming shade,  
Those little drops of light.   

Then at A●rora, whose fair hand  
Removed him from the skies:  
He gazing towards the East did stand,  
She entertained his eyes.   

But when the bright sun did appear,  
All those he 'gan despise,  
His wonder was determined there,  
He could no higher rise.   

He neither might, nor wished to know  
A more re●ulgent light:  
For that as mine, your beauties now,  
Employ his utmost sight.    

Palamede to Zelinde, Ariana, Lib. 6.  
FAirest piece of well form earth,  
Urge not thus your haughty birth:  
The power which you have o'er us, lies  
Not in your race, but in your eyes.  
None but a Prince, alas, that voy●●  
Confines you to a narrow choice!  
Should you no honey vow to taste,  
But what the Master Bees have placed  
In compass of their cells, how small  
A portion to your share would fall?  
Nor all appear among those few,  
Worthy the stock from whence they grew:  
The sap which at the root is bred,  
In trees, through all the boughs is spread,  
But virtues which in Parents shine,  
Make not like progre●se through the Line.  
'tis not from whom, but where we live;  
The place does oft those graces give.  
Great Julius on the Mountains bred,  
A flock perhaps, or Herd had led.  
He that the world subdued, had been  
But the best wrestler on the green.  
'tis Art and knowledge, which draw forth  
The hidden seeds of native worth:  
They blow those sparks, and make them rise  
Into such ●lames, as touch the Skies▪  
To the old Hero's hence was given,  
A Pedigree which reached to Heaven,  
Of mortal seed they were not held,  
Which other mortals so excelled,  
And beauty too in such excess  
As yours, Zelind●, claims no less.  
Smile but on me, and you shall scorn,  
Henceforth to be of Princes born.  
I can describe the shady Grove  
Where your loved Mother slept with Jove,  
And yet excuse the faultless Dame,  
Caught with her Spouses, shape, and name:  
Thy matchle●se f●rm will credit bring,  
To all the wonders I shall sing.  
FINIS.    

Mr. Waller's SPEECH IN PARLIAMENT. 1641.  
Against the Prelates Innovations, False doctrine, and Discipline; reproving the persuasion of some clergymen to his Majesty of Inconveniencies: Who themselves, instead of Tilling the Ground, are become sowers of Tares.  
With a Motion for the fundamental, and vital Liberties of this Nation, which it was wont to have.  
Mr. Speaker,  
We shall make it appear●, the errors of Divines who would that a Monarch, can be absolute, and that he can do all things ad libitum, receding not only from their Text, (though that be wandering too) but from the way their own profession might teach them. Stare super vias antiquas, and remove not the ancient bounds and Land●marks, which our Fathers have set.  
If to be absolute, were to be restrained by no laws: Then can no King in Christendom be so, for they all stand obleidged to the laws Christian, and we ask no more, for to this Pillar, be our privileges fixed. Our Kings at their Coronation, having taken a Sacred Oath, not to in●ringe them, I am sorry these men take no more care, for the informing of our Faith of these things, which they tell us for our souls health; whilst we know them so manife●tly in the wrong way, in that which concerns the Liberties and privileges of the Subjects of England.  
They gain preferment, and then it is no matter, though they neither believe themselves, nor are believed by others, But since they are so ready, to let lose the Conscience of our Kings, we are the more carefully to proceed, for our protection against this Pulpit-law, by declaring, and rein●orcing municipal Laws of this Kingdom.  
It is worthy the observation, how new this opinion, or rather this way of rising, is ●ven amongst themselves.  
For, (Mr. Speaker) Mr. Hooker, who was no refractory man, (as they term it) thinks that the first government was Arbitrary, until it w●● found, that to live by one man's will, becomes all men's misery; these are his words, and that these were the original of inventing Laws.  
And (Mr. Speaker,) if we look farther back, our Hi●tories will tell us, that the Prelates of this Kingdom, have often been the Mediators, between the King and his Subjects, to present and pray redress of their grievances, and had reciprocally then, as much love and reverence from the people.  
But these Preachers, more active than their predecessors, and wiser than the Laws, have found out a better form of Government.  
The King must be a more absolute Monarch, than any of his Predecessors, and to them be must owe it, though in the mean time, they hazard the hearts of his People, and involve Hi● into a thousand Dif●iculties.  
For suppose, this form of Gover●ment were inconvenient; (Mr. Speaker) this is but a Supp●sition; for this five ●undred years, it hath not only maint●ined us in safety, but made us victorious over other Nati●ns: But suppose, this form of Government were inconvenient; and they have another Idea of one more convenient; We all know, how dangerous Innovations are, though to the better; and what hazard those Princes run, that enterprise the Change of a long establis●ed Government.  
Now (Mr. Speaker) of all our Kings that have gone before, and of all that are to succeed in this happy race, why should so pious, and so good a King, be exposed to this trouble and hazard? Besides, that King so diverted, can never do● any great matters abroad.  
But (Mr. Speaker) whil●●● these men have thus bent their Wits against the Law of their Co●ntry; have they not neglected their own profession? What tares are grown up in the field, which they should have tilled? I leave it to ● second consideration, not but Religion be the first thing in our purposes and desires: But that which is first in dignity, is not always to preceded in order of time, for well-being, supposes a being; and the first impedi●ent which men n●t●●ally, endeavour to remove, is the want of those things, with●ut which they cannot subsist. God first a●signed unto Adam, ●●intenance of l●fe, and added to him a title to the re●t of the Creat●res, befor● he appointed Law to observe.  
And let me tell you▪ that i● our Adversaries have any ●uch define, as there is nothing more easy. then to impose Re●igion on a people ●eprived of their Liberties, so there is no●hing more hard, then to do the same upon freemen.  
And therefore (Mr. Speaker) I conclude with this motion, that there may be an Order presently made, that the first thing this House goes about, shall be the restoring of this Nation in general, to the fundamental and vital Liberties▪ the prosperity of our Goods, and freedom of our Persons; And then We will forthwith, consider of the supply de●●red.  
And thus shall We discharge the tru●● reposed in us, by those that sent us hither: And His Majesty ●hall see, that we will make more than ordinary ●aste to satisfy His demands; and we shall let all those know that seek to ha●●en the matter of supply, that they will so far delay it, as they give no interruption to the Former.   

Mr. Waller's SPEECH in PARLIAMENT, At a Conference of both Houses in the painted Chamber July 6. 1641.  
My LORDS,  
I Am commanded by the House of Commons, to present you with these Articles against Mr. Justice Crawley, which when your Lordships shall have been pleased to hear read, I shall take leave (according to custom) to say somshing of what I have collected from the sense of that House concerning the crimes therein contained.  
Here the charge was read containing his extrajudicial opinions subscribed, and judgement given for Ship-money, and afterward a Declaration in his charge at an Assize, that Ship-money was so inherent a right in the Crown, that it would not be in the power of a Parliament to take it away.  
MY LORDS, Not only my wants but my affections render me less fit for this employment: for though it has not been my happiness to have the Law a part of my breeding, there is no man honours that profession more, or has a greater reverence towards the grave Judges the Oracles thereof. Out of parliament all our Courts of Justice are governed or directed by them, and when a parliament is called, if your Lordships were not assisted by them, and the House of Commons by other Gentlemen of that Robe, experience t●lls us it might run a hazard of being styled Parlamentum indo●torum. But as all professions are obnoxious to the malice of the professors, and by them most easily betrayed, so (my Lords) these Articles have told you how these brothers of the Coyf are become fratres in malo; how these sons of the Law have torn out the bowels of their mother: But this Judge (whose charge you last heard) in one expression of his excels no less his Fellows, than they have done the worst of their predecessors, in this conspiracy against the commonwealth. Of the judgement for Ship-money, and those extrajudicial opinions preceding the same (wherein they are jointly concerned) you have already heard, how unjust and pernicious a p●●ceeding that was in so public a Cause, has been su●ficiently expressed to your Lordships: But this man, adding despair to our mi●ery, ●ells us from the Bench, that Ship-money was a Right so inherent in the Crown, that it would not be in the power of an Act of Parliament to take it away. Herein (my Lords) he did not only give as deep a wound to the Commonweal●h as any of the rest, but dipped his dart in su●h a poison, that so far as in him lay, it might never receive a cure. As by those abortive opinions subscribing to the subve●sion of our propriety, before he heard what could be said for it, he prevented his own, so by this declaration of his, he endeavours to prevent the Judgement of your Lordships too, and to confine the power of a Parliament, the only place where this 〈◊〉 might be redressed: Sure he is more wise and learned, then to believe himself in this opinion, or not to know how ridiculous it would appear to a Parliament, and how dangerous to himself, and therefore no doubt but by saying no Parliament could abolish this Judgement, his meaning was that this Judgement had abolished Parliaments.  
This imposition of Ship-money springing from a pretended necessity, was it not enough that it was now grown annual, but he must in●ayle it upon the State for ever, at once making necessity inherent to the Crown, & slavery to the Subject? Necessity, which dissolving all Law is so much more prejudicial to his Majesty then to any of us, by how much the Law has invested his royal State with a greater power, and ampler fortune, for so undoubted a truth it has ever been, that Kings as well as Subjects are involved in the confusion which necessity produces, that 〈◊〉 Heathen thought their gods also obliged by the same, Pareamus necessitati qaam nec homines nec dii superant: This Judge then having in his charge at the Assize declared the dissolution of the Law, by this supposed necessity, with what conscience could he at the same Assize proceed to condemn and punish men, unless perhaps he m●ant the Law was still in force for our destruction, and not for our preservation, that it should have power to kill, but none to protect us; a thing no less horrid than if the Sun should burn without lighting us, or the ●arth serve only to bury and not to feed and nourish us. But (my Lords) to demonstrate that this was a supposititious imposed necessi●y, and such as they could remov● when they pleased, at the last Convention in Parliament a price was set upon it, for twelve Subsidies you shall reverse this Sentence; It may be said that so much money would have removed the present necessity, but here was a Rate set upon future necessity, For twelve Subsidies you shall never suffer necessity again, you shall for ●ver abolish that judgement; Here this mystery is revealed, this visor of necessity is pulled off, and now it appears that this Parliament of Judges had very frankly and bountifully presented his Majesty with twelve Subsidies to be levied on your Lordships, & the Commons: Certainly there is no privilege which more properly belongs to a Parliament, then to open the purse of the Subject, and yet these Tudges, who are neither capable of sitting among us in the house of Commons, nor with your Lordships, otherwise then as your assistants, have not only aslumed to themselves this privilege of Parliament, but pr●sum'd at once to make a present to the Crown of all that either your Lordships or the Commons of England do, or shall her a●t●r possess.  
And because this man has had the boldness ●o put the power of Parliament in ball●nce with the opinion of the judges, I shall entreat your Lordships to observe by way of comparison the solemn and safe proceeding of the one, with the precipitate dispatch of the other. In parliament (as your Lordships know well) no new Law can pass, or old be ab●ogated, till it has been thrice read with your Lordships, thrice in the Commons House, and then it receives the royal Assent, so that 'tis like gold seven times purified; whereas these judges by this o●e resolu●ion of thei●s would persuade his Majesty, that by naming necessity he might at once dissolve (at least s●spend) the great Charter 32 times confirmed by his royal progenitors, the Petition of Right, and all other laws provided for the mainten●nce of the Right and Propriety of the Subj●ct; a strange force (my Lords) in the sound of this word necessity, that like a charm it should silence the laws, while we are despoiled of all we have, for that but a part of our goods was taken is owing to the g●ac● and goodness of the King, for so much as conc●rnes these judges, we have no more left than they perhaps may de●●rve to have, when your Lordships shall ●ave passed judgement upon them: This for the n●glect of their Oaths, and betraying that public tr●st, which for the conservation of our Laws was reposed in them.  
Now for the cruelty & unmercifulness of this judgement, you may please to remember that in the old Law they were forbid to seethe a Kid in his mother's milk, of which the received interpretation is, that we should not use that to the destruction of any creature which was intended for its preservation: Now (my Lords) God and Nature has given us t●● Sea as our best Guard against our Enemies, and our ships as our greatest glory above other Nations, and how barbarously would these men have let in the sea upon us, at once to wash away our Liberties, and to overwh●lm, if not our Land, all the propriety we have therein, making the supply of our Navy, a pretence for the ●uine of our Nation; for observe I beseech you the fruit and consequenc● of this judgement, how this money has prospered, how contrary an effect it has had ●o the end for which they pretended to take it: On every County a ship is annually imposed, and w●o would not expect, but our seas by this time should be covered with the number of our ships? Alas (my Lords) the daily complaints of the decay of our Navy tell us how ill Ship-money has maintained t●e sovereignty of the Sea; and by the many petitions which we receive from the wives of those miserable Captives at Algiers (being between four and five thousand of our countrymen) it does too ev●dently appear that to make us slaves at home, is not the way to keep us from being made slaves abroad; so far has this judgement been from relieving the present, or preventing the fu●ure necessity, that as it changed our real propriety into the shadow of a propriety, so of a feigned it has m●de a real necessity.  
A little before the approach of the Gauls to Rome, while the Romans h●d yet no apprehension of that danger, there was heard a voice in the air, louder than ordinary, The Gauls are come, which voice after they had sacked the City, and besieged the Capitol, was held so ominous, that Livy relat●s it as a Prodigy; This Anticipation of necessity seems to have been no l●sse ominous to us▪ These ●udges like ill boding birds have called necessity upon the State in a time when I dare say they thought themselves in greatest security; but if it seem superstitious to take this as an Omen, sure I am, we may look on it as a cause of the unfeigned necessity we now suffer, for what regret and discontent had this judgement bred among us? And as when the noise and tumult in a private house grows so loud as to be ●eard into the streets, it calls inthe next dwellers ●ither kindly to appease, or to make their own use of the domestic strife; so in all likelihood our known discontents at home have been a concurrent cause to invite our neighbours to visit us so much to the expense and trouble of both these kingdoms.  
And here, my Lords, I cannot but take notice of the most sad effect of this oppression, the ill influence it has had upon the ancient reputation and valour of the English Nation: and no wonder, for if it be ●rue that oppression makes a wise man mad, it may well suspend the courage of the valiant: The same happened to the Romans, when for renown in arms they most ●xcell'd the rest of the world; the story is but short, `twas in the time of the Decemviri (& I think the chief troublers of our State may make up that number,) The Decemviri, my Lords, had subverted the laws, suspended the Courts of justice, & (which was the greate●t grievance both to the Nobility and people) had for some years omi●ted to assemble the Senate, which was their Parliament: This, says the Historian, did not only deject the Romans, and make them despair of their Liberty, but ●ansed them to be Jesse valued by their neighbours: The Sabines take the advantage and invade them; and now the ` Decemviri are forced to call the long-desired Senate whereof the people were so glad, that Hostibus belloque gratiam habuerunt: This Assembly breaks up in discontent, nevertheless the war proceeds; Forces are raised, led by some of the Decemviri, & with the Sabines they meet in the field: I know your Lordships expect the event: my author's words of his Country men ar● these, Ne quid du●●●● aut auspicio Decemvirorum prosper g●reretur, vinci se paticbantur, They chos● rather to suffer a present diminution of their Honour, then by victory to confirm the tyranny of their new Masters: At their r●turn from this unfortunate expedition, after some distempers & expostulations of the people, another Senate, that is, a second Parliament, is called, and there the D●cemviri are questioned, deprived of their authority, imprisoned, banished, and some lose their lives: & soon after this vindication of their Liberties, the Romans by their better succ●sse made it appear to the world, that liberty and courage dwell always in the same breast, & are never to be divorced. No doubt, my Lords, but your justice shall have the like effect upon this dispirited people; 'tis not the restitution of our ancient Laws alone, but the restauration of our ancient courage which is expected from your Lordships: I need not say any thing to move your just indignation, that this man should so cheaply give away that which your Noble Ancestors with so much courage and industry had so long maintained: you have of●en been told how careful they were though with the hazard of their lives & fortunes, to derive thos● Rights and Liberties as entire to posterity as they received them from their Fathers; what they did with labour you may do with ease, what they did with danger you may do securely: the foundation of our laws is not shaken with the Engine of war, they are only blasted with the breath of these men, and by your breath they may be restored.  
What judgements your Predecessors have given, and what punishments their Predecessors have suffered for offences of this nature, your Lordships have already been so well informed, that I shall not trouble you with a repetition of those precedents: only (my Lords) something I shall take leave to observe of the person with whose charge I have presented you, that you may the less doubt of the wilfulness of his offence.  
His education in the inns of Court, his constant practice as a counsellor, and his experience as a judge (considered with the mischief he has done) makes it appear that this progress of his through the Law, has been like that of a diligent spy through a Country, into which he meant to conduct an enemy.  
To let you see he did not offend for company, there is one crime so peculiar to himself, and of such malignity, that it makes him at once uncapable of your lordship's favour, and his own subsistence incompatible with the right and propriety of the Subject: for if you leave him in a capacity of interpreting the Laws, has he not already declared his opinion, That your votes and resolutions against Ship-money are void, and that it is not in the power of a Parliament to abolish that Judgement? To him▪ my Lords, that has thus played with the power of Parliament, we may well apply what was once said to the Goat browsing on the Vine.  Rode, caper, vitem, tamen hinc cum stabis ad ar●● In Tua quod fu●di cornus possit, erit: 
He has cropped and infringed the privileges of a banished Parliament, but now it is returned, he may find it has power enough to make a Sacrifice of him, to the better establishment of our laws▪ and in truth what other satisfaction can ●e make his injured Cou●try, then to confirm by his example those Rights and Liberties which he had ●uin'd by his opinion?  
For the proofs, my Lords, they are so manifest, tha● they will give you little trouble in the disquisition; his crimes are already upon Record, the Delinquent and the witness is the same; having from several seats of judicature proclaimed himself an Enemy to our Laws and Nation, Ex ore suo judi●abit●r. To which purpose I am commanded by the Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses of the House of Common●, to desire your Lordships that as speedy a proceeding may be had against Mr. Justice Crawley, as the course of Parliaments will permit.   

Mr. Waller's SPEECH IN THE HOVES of COMMOMS On Tuesday the 4th of July, 1643.  
Being brought to the bar, and having leave given him by the SPEAK●R, to say what he could for himself, before they proceeded to expel him the HOUSE.  
Mr. Speaker,  
I Acknowledge it a great mercy of God, and a great favour from you, that I am once more suffered to behold this Honourable Assembly. I m●ane not to make use of it to say any thing in my own defence by justification or denial of what I have done, I have already confessed enough to make me● appear, worthy not only to be put out of this House, but out of the World too. All my humble request to you is, that if I seem to you as unworthy to live, as I do to myself, I may have the honour to receive my death from your own hands, and not b●e exposed to a trial by the counsel of war: what ever you shall think me worthy to suffer in a Parliamentary way, is not like to find stop anywhere else.  
This (Sir) I hope you will be pleased for your own sakes to grant me, who am already so miserable, that nothing can be added to my calamity, but to be made the occasion of creating a precedent to your own disadvantage; besides the right I may have to this, consider I beseech you, that the eyes of the world are upon you, you Govern in chief, and if you should expose your own Members to the punishment of others, it will be thought that you either want Power, or leisure to chasti●e them yourselves: Nor Let any man despise the ill consequence of such a precedent as this would be, because he seeth not presently the inconveniences which may ensue: You have many Armies on Foot, and it is uncertain● how long you may have occasion to use them. Soldiers and Commanders (though I know well they of the Parliaments Army, excel no le●se in modesty, than they do in Courage) are generally of a Nature ready to pretend to the utmost power of this kind, which they conceive to be due to them, and may be too apt upon any occasion of discontent to make use of suc● a precedent as this. In this very Parliament you have not been without some taste of the experience hereof, it is now somewhat more than two y●are● since you had an Army in the North, paid and directed by yourselves, and yet you may be pleased to remember there was a considerable number of officers in that Army, which joined in a Petition or Remonstrance to this House, taking notice of what some of the Members had said here, as they supposed to their disadvantage, and did little less than require them of you; 'tis true, there had been some tampering with them, but what has happened at one time, may wisely be thought possible to fall out again at another.  
Sir, I presume but to point you out the danger; if it be not just, I know you will not do me the wrong to expose me to this trial; if it be just, your Army may another time require the same justice of you, in their own behalf, against some other Member, whom perhaps you would be less willing to part with. Necessity has of late forced you into untrodden paths; and in such a case as this where you have no precedent of your own, you may not do amiss to look abroad upon other States and Senates, which exercise the ●upream Power, as you now do here.  
I dare confidently say you shall find none either ancient of Modern, which ever exposed any of their own order to be tried for his life by the Officers of their Armies abroad, for what he did, while he resided among them in the Senate.  
Among the Romans the practice was so contrary, that some inferior Officers in their Army far from the City, having been sentenced by their general, or Commander in chief, as deserving death by their Discipline of war, have nevertheless (because they were Senators) appealed thither, and the cause has received a new hearing in the Senate. Not to use more wor●s to persuade you to take heed that you wound not yourselves thorough my sides in violating the privileges belonging to your own persons, I shall humbly desire you to consider likewise the nature of my offence, (not but that I should be much ashamed to say any thing in diminution thereof: God knows 'tis horrid enough, for the evil it might have occasioned) but if you look near it, it may perhaps appear to be rather a civil than a martial crime, and so to have title to a trial at the Common Law of the Land; there may justly be some difference put between me● and others in this business.  
I have had nothing to do with the other Army, or any intention to begin the offer of violence to anybody. It was only a civil pretence to that which I then foolishly conceived to be the right of the Subject. I humbly refer it to your considerations, and to your consciences. I know you will take care not to shed the blood of War in Peace, that blood by the law of War, which hath a right to be tried by the Law of Peace.  
For so much as concerns myself and my part in this business, (if I were worthy to have any thing spoken, or patiently heard in my behalf) this might truly be said, that I made not this busines●e but found it, it was in other men's hands long before it was brought to me, and when it came, I extended it not, but restrained it. For the Propo●itions of letting in part of the King's Army, or offering violence to the Members of this House, I ever disallowed and utterly rejected them,  
What it was that moved me to entertain discou●se of this business so far as I did, I will tell you ingeniously, and that rather as a warning for others, than that it make any thing for myself; it was only an impatience of the inconve●ences of the present war, looking on things with a carnal eye, and not minding that which chiefly (if not only) ought to have been considered, the inestimable value of the Cause you have in hand, the Cause of God and of Religion, and the nec●ssiti●●s you are forced upon for the maintenance of the same; as a just punish●ent for this neglect, it pleased God to de●er● and suffer m●e with a fatal blindness, to be led on, and ●gaged in such Counsels as were wholly disproportioned to the rest of my life; This (Sir) my own Conscience tells me was the caus● of my failing, and not malice, or any ill habit of mind, or disposition toward the commonwealth, o●●o the Parliament: for from whence should I ●●ve it? If you look on my birth, you will not find it i● my blood: I am of a Stock which hath bo●n you better fruit: if you look on my education, it hath been almost from my childhood in this House, and among the best sort of men; and for the whole practice of my life till this time, if another were to speak for me, he might reasonably say, that neither my actions out of Parliament, nor in my expressions in it, have savoured of disaffection or malice to the Liberties of the People, or privileges of Parliament.  
Thus Sir, I have set be●ore your eyes, both my person and my case, wherein I shall make no such defence by denying, or extenuating any thing, I have done, as ordinary Delinquents do, my address to you, and all my plea shall only be such as Children use to their Parents, I have offended; I co●fesse it, I never did any thing like it before; it is a passage unsui●able to the whole course of my life beside, and for the time to come, as God that can bring light out of darkness, hath made this business in the event useful to you, so a so hath he to me●: you have by it made an happy discov●ry of your Enemies, and I of myself, and the evil principles I walked by; so that if you look either on what I have been heretofore, or what I now am, and by God's grace assi●tin●▪ me, shall always continue to be, you may perhaps think me fit to be an example of your compassion and ●lemency.  
Sir, I shall no sooner leave you, but my life will depend on your breath, and not that alone, but the subsistence of some that are more innocent. I might therefore show you my Children, wh●m the rigour of your justice would make complete Orphans, being already Motherle●se. I might show you a F●mily, wherein there are some unworthy to have their share in that mark of Infamy which now threatens us: But something there is, which if I could show you, would move you more than all this, it is my Heart, which abhors what I ●●ve done, more, and is more sever● to itself, than the severest judge can be. A heart (Mr. Speaker) so awakened by this a●fliction, and so entirely d●voted to the Cause you maintain, that I earnestly desire of God to incline you, so to dispose of me, whether for lif● or for death, as may most conduce to the advancement thereof.  
Sir, not to trouble you any longer, if I die, I shall die praying for you; if I live, I shall live serving you, and ●ender you back the use and employment of all those days you shall add to my life.  
After this, having withdrawn himself, he was called in again, and (being by the Speaker required thereto) gave them an exact account how he came first to the knowledg● of this business; as also what Lords were acquainted there with, or had engaged th●mselves therein.  
FINIS.