POEMS. By W. H.  
— cineri gloria sera venit.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Dring at the George in Fleetstreet, near Clifford's inn Gate, 1655.   

POEMS.  

Commanded to write VERSES.  
MADAM,  
SInce your Command inspires  
My willing heart with lyric fires,  
Though my Composure owe its Birth,  
Or to cold Water, or dull Earth,  
Wanting the active qualities  
That sprightly Fire and air comprise;  
Yet guided by that Influence,  
I may with those Defects dispense:  
And Raptures no less winning vent  
Then the famed Thracian Instrument.  
What though old sullen Saturn lie  
Brooding on my Nativity,  
So your bright eyes the Clouds dispel,  
Which on my drooping Fancy dwell?  
But stay, what glass have we so bright,  
To do your matchless beauty right?  
Nature but from her own disgrace  
Can add no lustre to that face;  
Nor from her patterns can we find,  
A Form to represent your mind.  
The figures which this World invest  
Are Images in which expressed  
Some truer Essences appear,  
Which not to sight subjected are.  
So you fair Celia inwardly  
Dissemble well the Deity,  
And counterfeit in flesh and skin  
The fineness of a Cherubin:  
But fair one, if you must put on  
This Orders Institution,  
Admitted to this hierarchy,  
A Guardian angel be to me.   

The walk.  
Blessed walk, that with your leafy arms embrace  
In small, what beauty the dilated face  
Of the whole World contains! The Violet,  
Bowing its humble head down at her feet,  
Pays homage for the livery of her veins:  
Roses and lilies, and what beauteous stains  
Nature adorns the Sping with, are but all  
Faint Copies of this fair original.  
She is a moving Paradise, doth view  
Your greens, not to refresh herself, but you.  
This paths th' ecliptic, heat prolific hence  
Is shed on you by her kind influence;  
She is (Alas) too like the Sun, who grants  
That warmth to all, which in himself he wants.  
You thus obliged, this benefit return,  
Teach her by Lectures visible to burn;  
That She, when Zephyre moves each whispering bough  
To kiss his neighbour, thence may learn t' allow  
The real seals of kindness, and be taught  
By twining Woodbines what sweet joys are caught  
In such embraces: Thus and thousand ways  
Told you by amorous Fairies, and the lays  
Of your fond Guardian, waken her desires,  
Requiting your own warmth with equal fires.   

Husbandry.  

WHen I began my Love to sow,  
Because with Venus' Doves I ploughed,  
Fool that I was, I did not know  
That frowns for furrows were allowed.   

The broken heart to make Clods torn  
By the sharp Harrows of disdain,  
Crumbled by pressing rolls of scorn,  
Gives issue to the springing grain.   

Coyness shuts Love into a Stove,  
So frost-bound lands their own heat feed:  
Neglect sits brooding upon Love  
As pregnant Snow on Winter-seed.   

The Harvest is not till we two  
Shall into one contracted be;  
Loves crop alone doth richer grow  
Decreasing to Identity.   

All other things not nourished are  
But by Assimilation:  
Love, in himself and diet spare,  
Grows fat by Contradiction.    

Mutual Love.  

FRom our loves, Heat and light are taught to twine,  
In their bright nuptial bed of solar beams.  
From our loves Thame and Isis learn to join,  
Losing themselves in one another's streams.  
And if Fate smile, the Fire loves emblem bears,  
If not, the Water represents our tears.   

From our Loves all magnetic virtue grows,  
Steel to th' obdurate Loadstone is inclined.  
From our Loves all the power of chemists flows,  
Earth by the Sun is into Gold refined.  
And if Fate smile, this shall Loves Arrows head,  
If not, in those is our hard fortune read.   

From our still springing loves the youthful bays,  
Is in a robe of lasting verdure dressed,  
From our firm loves the Cypress learns to raise,  
Green in despite of storms, her deathless crest.  
And if Fate smile, with that our Temples bound,  
If not, with this our Hearses shall be crowned.    

The forsaken Maid.  

GO fickle Man and teach the Moon to change,  
The Winds to vary, the coy Bee to range:  
You that despise the conquest of a Town  
Rendered without resistance of one frown.   

Is this of easy faith the recompense?  
Is my prone loves too prodigal expense,  
Rewarded with disdain? did ever dart,  
Rebound from such a penetrable heart?   

Diana, in the service of whose Shrine,  
Myself to single life I will confine,  
Revenge thy votaress; for unto thee  
The reeling Ocean bends his a zure knee.   

And since he loves upon rough Seas to ride,  
Grant such an Adria, whose swelling Tide,  
And stormy tongue may his false vessel wrack,  
And make the Cordage of his heart to crack.    

Another.  

KNow falsest Man, as my love was  
Greater than thine, or thy desert,  
My scorn shall likewise thine surpass,  
And thus I tear thee from my heart.   

Thou art so far my love below,  
That then my anger thou art less;  
I neither love nor quarrel now,  
But pity thy unworthiness.   

Go join, before thou think to wed,  
Thy heart and tongue in wedlock's knot:  
Can peace be reaped from his bed,  
Who with himself accordeth not?   

Go learn to weigh thy words upon  
The balance of reality,  
And having that perfection  
Attained, come then, and I'll scorn thee.    

J. C.  
Anagr. I can be any Lover.  
SEE how the letters of thy Name impart  
The very whispers of thy heart.  
This name came surely out of Adam's mint,  
It bears so well thy nature's print.  
Woman, materia prima, doth present,  
Is to all forms indifferent,  
As Pictures do at once with various eyes,  
Distinctly view all companies,  
With such a steadfast look, that each man would  
Swear they did only him behold.  
Thus run we in a Wheel, where steadfast ground  
To fix our footing is not found,  
Whilst woman's heart incliningly doth move  
Like twigs to every sigh of Love.  
She who imparts her smiles to more than one,  
May many like, but can love none.  
The force of all things in contraction lies,  
And love thrives by Monopolies.  
Those Glasses that collect the scattered rays  
Into one point, a flame can raise:  
straighten the object, you increase loves store;  
So loving less, you love the more.   

De Melidoria.  
è Joh. Barclaij, Poem. lib, 2.  

WHy languish I ye Gods alone?  
Why only I? when not one groan  
Afflicteth her for whom I die:  
You mighty powers of Love, oh why  
Doth Meledore despise your darts,  
And their effects too, bleeding hearts?  
If thus (oh God's) ye suffer her  
Unpunished, none will prefer  
Your Altars; such examples may  
Become the ruin of your sway.   

With Venus and her mighty Son  
Expostulating thus, I won  
This answer: alas (Cupid cries)  
I hoodwinked am; my closed eyes  
Bound with a Fillet, that my Bow  
Can none but roving Shafts let go;  
Hence 'tis that Troops of violent  
Youth, their misplaced loves resent;  
That some love rashly; some again  
Congealed are with cold disdain:  
Wouldst thou thy Mistress, I inspire,  
And in her breast convey that fire  
Which nature suffers not to find  
Birth from thy tears? Do but unbind  
My eyes, and I will take such aim,  
As she shall not escape my flame:   

Thus spoke the Boy, my ready hand  
Prepared was to lose the band  
From his fair eyelids, that his sight  
Might to his Dart give steady flight;  
When my good Genius prudent ear,  
Whispered to my rash soul, Beware:  
Ah shameless Boy, deceitful Love,  
I see thy plot, should I remove  
Those chains of darkness from thy eyes,  
Thou Melidore so much wouldst prize,  
That straight my rival thou wouldst be,  
And warm her for thyself, not me.    

Delay.  
Upon advice to defer love's Consummation.  
DElay, whose Parents phlegm and Slumber are,  
Thinkst thou two snails drawing thy leaden Car,  
Can keep pace with the fiery wheels of love's  
Chariot, that receives motion from swift Doves?  
Go visit fevers, such as conscience wrack  
With fear of punishment in death, there slack  
The pulse, or dwell upon the fatal tongues  
Of Judges, shut up their contagious lungs:  
Thou mayst a goal rejoice, but not decree  
To Loves glad Prisoners a Jubilee.  
How canst thou think thy Frost with Icy Laws  
Can bind my tears, when Love thy cold chain thaws?  
He more intense for fighting Ice will be,  
And raise his heat unto the eighth degree.  
Thus through thy coldness I shall fiercer burn,  
And by thy Winter into Cinders turn.  
But since from Ignorance fears oft arise,  
And thence are stolen unequal Victories,  
Let us describe this Foe, muster his force:  
A handless thing it is, and chills the source  
Of brave attempts. Eyes he pretends to much,  
Yet our experience often shows that such  
Exactness in Surveying, opes a gate  
To be surprised by Semele's sad Fate.  
'tis a mere trunk, hath not for progre●s feet,  
Coward that fears his own desires to meet.  
His Friends are scarce; the Heavens, whose flight debates  
The race with thought, are no confederates:  
The World is love in act; suspend this fire,  
The Globe to its old Chaos will retire:  
Infernal souls, but for his loathed stay  
Might hope their Night would open into Day.  
How can this Cripple then, not with one Band  
Aided by Earth, Heaven, Hell, his power withstand,  
Who hath of Earth, Heaven, Hell, the forces broke,  
Imposed on Neptune's self his scorching yoke?  
But if thou needst will haunt me, let thy Mace  
Arrest delight when I my Love embrace.   

Upon Cloris her visit after Marriage,  
A pastoral Dialogue betwixt Codrus and Damon forsaken rivals.  Codrus. 
WHy (Damon) did Arcadian Pan ordain  
To drive our Flocks from that Meridian plain  
Where Cloris perpendicular shot beams  
Scorched up our lawns but that cool Charwells streams  
Might here abate those flames which higher were  
Then the faint moisture of our Flocks could bear?  Damon. 
Codrus, I wot the dog that tended there  
Our Flocks was he which in the heavenly sphere  
So hotly hunts the lion that the trace  
of Virgo scarce his fiery steps alleys;  
Into our veins a fever he conveyed,  
And on our vital Spirits fiercely preyed.  Codrus. 
Oh why then brought she back her torrid Zone?  
Conquered her trophies? Let us not alone  
After so many deaths? renewed our flame  
When 'twas impossible to quench the same?  
It is the punishment of Hell to show  
The tortured souls those joys they must not know?  Damon. 
Though my Flock languish under her aspect;  
My panting Dog his office too neglect;  
Though I refuse repast, and by her eyes  
Inflamed, prostrate myself her sacrifice,  
I shall yet covet still her dubious rays,  
Whose light revives as much as her heat slays.  Codrus. 
If Thyrcis slept not in her shady hair,  
If in his arms her snow not melted were,  
We might expect a more successful day,  
And to some hopes our willing hearts betray,  
Which now live desperate without joy of light;  
Her black eyes shed on us perpetual night.  Damon. 
Codrus because his ragged flock was thin,  
His Sheep walk bare, and his Ewes did not yene,  
His noble Love (hear this O swains) resigned  
His eyes delight a wealthier mate to find;  
But she (rash in her choice) gave her embrace  
To one whose bread courser than Codrus was.  Codrus. 
Damon (Than whom none e'er did longer burn;  
Nor at his rate, upon so small return)  
Damon (the pride and glory of the mead  
When Nymphs and swains their tuned measures tread)  
Begged of her that a better choice might prove  
She loved herself, since him she could not love.  Damon. 
Had Thyrsis flocks in milk abounded more,  
I should not with such grief my loss deplore.  Codrus. 
Could Thyrsis pipe more worthily resound  
Cloris, oh Cloris, I had comfort found.  Both. 
That our heart-wracking sighs no gain bequeathe  
To Cloris, is a dying after death.   

On the infrequency of Celia's Letters.  
DId not true love disdain to own  
His spirit all duration  
From paper-fuel, I might guess  
Thy love and writing both surcease  
Together; But I cannot think  
The life and blood of love is Ink;  
Yet as when Phoebus leaves our coast  
(The surface bound with chains of frost)  
Life is sustained by course repast,  
Such as in Spring nauseates the taste,  
So in my winter whilst you shine  
In the remotest tropic sign  
Stramineous food paper and quill  
May fodder hungry love until  
He reobtain solstitial hours  
To feast upon thy beauty's flowers.  
The wonders then of Nature we  
Within out selves will justify:  
Or what monumental boast  
The first world made, the latter lost:  
Thy pointed flame shall constant 'bide  
As an eternal Pyramid;  
The never dying Lamp of urns  
Revivid in my bosom burns:  
Th' attractive virtue of the North  
Resembleth thy magnetic worth;  
And from my scorched heart through mine eyes  
Aetnean flashes shall arise:  
we shall make good when more unite  
The fable of Hermaphrodite:  
The Spring and Harvest of our bliss  
The ripe and budding Orange is;  
We little worlds shall thus rehearse  
The wonders of the Universe  
As a small watch keeps equal pace  
With the vast Sun's impetnous race   

To her questioning his Estate.  

Prithee no more, how can Love sail?  
Thy providence becalms our Seas:  
Suspensive care binds up each gale;  
Fear doth the lazy current freeze.   

Forecast and Love, the Lover swears,  
Removed as the two Poles should be:  
But if on them must roll the spheres  
Of our well tuned felicity:   

If sums and Terrars I must bring,  
Nor may my Inventory hide,  
Know I am richer than the King  
Who guilt Pactolus yellow Fide.   

For Love is our philosopher's stone;  
And whatsoever doth please thy sense,  
My prising estimation  
Shall elevate to quintessence.   

Thy lips each cup to wine shall charm,  
As the sun's kisses do the Vine;  
Naked embraces keep us warm;  
And stripped, then May thou art more fine.   

And when thou hast me in thy arms,  
(The power of fancy's then most high)  
Instate me by those mighty charms  
In some imperial monarchy.   

Thus I am thy wealth, thou art mine:  
And what to each other we appear,  
If Love us two in one combine  
The same then in ourselves we are,    

The Spring.  
SEE how the Spring courts thee, Emaphilis;  
The painted meadows to invite thy eyes  
But on their rich embroidery▪ the shade  
Of every grove is now an harbour made  
Where devout birds (to celebrate thy praise)  
Each morn and evening offer up their lays,  
Now the soft wind his winter-rage deposes  
Solicits Gardens for the breath of Rosses.  
To pay as homage to thy sweeter lips,  
Where such Nectarean fragrancy he sips  
That richly laden to the East he roves  
And with thy breath perfumes those spicy groves:  
Their native fount and sacred Naiades  
These Issuing streams renouncing to the press;  
whom finding they with purling murmurs chide:  
That nature's Law Commands away their tide:  
wishing that winter would confine their race  
In Icy chains, that they might stand and gaze;  
If thou canst thus inflame nature's cold rheum  
What wonder that my youthful flood consume?   

The cruel Mistress.  
TELL me O love why Celia, smooth  
As Seas when winds forbear to soothe  
Their waves to wanton curls, than down  
More soft which doth the Thistle Crown,  
Whither then is the milky road  
That leads to Jove's supreme abode,  
Should harder far and rougher be  
Then most obdurate rocks to me;  
Sheds on my hopes as little day  
As the pale Moon's aclipsed ray?  
My heart would break, but that I hear  
Love gently whisper in my ear,  
Actions of women by affection lead  
Must backward like the sacred tongue, be read   

To his Mistress, Desiring him to absent himself.  

SEE how this river's liquid glass  
Can never cease its motion,  
Until he hide his crystal face  
Ith' bosom of the Ocean.   

The amorous Nymphs who closely guide  
His purling Chariots reins,  
Declare that loves impetuous tide  
To be repressed disdains.   

Charm Zephyr that his gentle wing  
Not with Narcissus' play;  
The Sun in his diurnal ring  
From Thetis lap delay.   

Stop the departed souls career  
To its appointed blisses;  
All thi● effected, you may steer  
Me to abstain your kisses.    

To his scornful Mistress.  
LOve in's first infant days had 's Wardrobe full;  
Sometimes we found him courting in a Bull.  
Then, dressed in snowy plumes, his long neck is  
Made pliable and fit to reach a kiss:  
When aptest for embraces he became  
Either a winding Snake, or curling Flame:  
And cunningly a pressing kiss to gain,  
The virgin's honour in a Grape would stain:  
When he consulted Lawns for privacies,  
The shepherd, or his Ram was his disguise:  
But the blood raging to a rape, put on  
A satire, or a wilder Stallion;  
And for variety, in Thetis Court  
Did like a Dolphin with the Sea-Nymph sport:  
But since the sad Barbarian yoke hath bowed  
The Grecian neck, Love hath less change allowed,  
Contracted lives in eyes; no flaming robes  
Wears, but are lent him in your crystal Globes:  
Not worth a watered Garment; when he wears  
That Element he steals it from my tears.  
A Snake he is (Alas) when folded in  
Your frowns, where too much sting guards the fair skin  
A shepherd unto cares, and only sips  
The blushing Grape of your Nectarean lips:  
The Ram Bull stallion Satyrs only fight  
love's battles now in my wild appetite.  
He in his Swan too suffers a restraint,  
Cygnaean only in my dying plaint.  
Since all his actions love to morals turns,  
And faintly now in things less real burns,  
In such a weakness contraries destroy,  
And she his murderess is, who now is coy.   

To Mr. J. L.  
Upon his Treatise of Dialling.  
OLd time but for thy art, alone would pass,  
And idly bear his solitary glass:  
Though he fly fast, thy judgement mounted on  
The wings of fancy, yokes his motion:  
Each little sand falls not unquestioned by  
The due observance of thy piercing eye;  
Each moment you converse with so, that thus  
Discoursing his stage seems not tedious:  
others perhaps by their mechanic art  
May ask him what's a clock, then let him part:  
Thou in thy circles conjur'st him to stay  
Till he relate to thee the month and day;  
All propositions of the Globe dost bring  
To be confessed as well in dialling:  
What lucky signs successively do run,  
By the reclining chariot of the Sun;  
And in a various dialect of Schemes  
Interpretsed all the motions of his beams  
How many hours each day he travels in  
When he arrives diogonall inn.  
Other books show the trade of dialling,  
But thine the art and reason of the thing:  
Thou know'st the spring and cause that makes it go;  
Addest new wheels; demonstrated all so  
That weak eyes now may see what was before  
Defective in the famed Osorius store:  
A limb at least of this celestial trade  
Asleep till now lay in the Gnomon shade;  
Nor teachest thou as those who first did find  
With much circumference the Indian mine;  
Thy needle points the nearest way, and hath  
Made straight th' obliquity of the old path;  
Thou nor thine art our praises need, yet I  
Will for this miracle both deify.  
Thine art enlightens by a shade, of that  
Nothing a real Science you create.   

Epithalamium,  
To the L. T. married in the North.  

WElcome fairest, Thee our rhyme  
Congratulates rather then him  
Who shines obliquely on our Clime.   

Thy beams directly pointed fall,  
That we our Bear the Cancer call,  
This Zone style equinoctial.   

The mists our German Seas create  
Thy eyes (though Phoebus mediate)  
Originally dissipate.   

Cassiope, though heavenly fair,  
Hides her new face and burnished chair,  
When you enlighten the day's air.   

They only rule material sense,  
Your love's example may dispense  
To inflamed souls chaste influence.   

Unto that flame which doubly warms  
(Thy beauty's Summer, and loves charms)  
May time nor sickness threaten harms.   

My Hymen's torch on Northern shore  
Dilate into a Pharos; For  
Besieged by cold fire burns the more    

To Eugenio,  
A description of the love of true Friendship.  
MAN, of a troubled Spirit, prone to fight,  
In fortitude placing too much delight,  
Unjustly Friendship disinherited,  
No dowry to her hath proportioned  
Amongst the moral Sisters of the will;  
Goddess of youth though she, yet should not fill  
Their cups, be she none of the wheels, her right  
Is in the treasure, draws the appetite  
To amiable good; But if the rain  
Be held by Prudence (for she guides the wain)  
This virtue next inheritrix is she,  
Fitted to turn upon that axletree;  
For lamely would the wills bright chariot move  
If not informed by friendly heat of Love,  
Whose lightning shoots directly, never bends  
Reflecting glances upon private ends.  
Indeed her sister (of a bastard race)  
Squints on her good, like Venus in her glass;  
Mechanic love, desire with usury,  
Which ne'er is lent but for utility,  
Or some return of pleasure to the sense;  
A thrifty worldling hight Concupiscence.  
The first a wealthy Queen of generous strain;  
The latter indigent, and works for gain;  
That, from the bosom of the deity;  
Derives the lustre of her pedigree;  
Who of this wonder truly is possessed  
Hath heavens Epitome lodged in his breast;  
This Children to their Parents give; by this  
Perfumed with Frankincense the altar is;  
That's Gold refined, whose solidity  
(The perfect emblem of true constancy)  
Being ductile, will consume itself and pine  
Even to small threads, to make another fine:  
Self-loving this as subtle Mercury,  
Which parted, to itself again doth fly   

Ad amicum & cognatum T. S.  
AETernae, primo repetam de fonte Sobrine  
A nobis initum foedus amicitiae;  
Non erat in causis probitas promiscua morum,  
Quodque iisdem tecum ritibus oro deum,  
Nec simul edocti quod avenam in flavimus unam,  
Nec Quod de nostra stripe racemus eras?  
Hae modo conciliatrices si mentibus essent  
Convictus, virtus, strips eademque fides  
Debueram plures arsisse hac lege, merentes  
Aeque de nostra forsan amicitia.  
Causa subest ex Naturae penetralibus hausta,  
Esse meae paritas indolis atque tuae:  
Si flammam admoveas flammae, si fluctibus undas,  
Res in idem, fuerat quae modo bina, redit.  
Confusi pariter genio coalescimus uno,  
Compagesque tuae mentis ubique mea est:  
Cumque meum tecum similaribus undique constet  
Partibus ingenium, prona synaxis erat:  
Virtutis seges ampla tuae sit mater amoris,  
Mater amicitiae non critilla meae:  
Plures inter amor diffunditur; ipso duorum  
Tantum, qui fiunt unus, amicitia est,  
Quicquid id est quod nos a nobis cogit amari  
Nos eadem ratio temet amare facit.   

To the same being sick of a fever. Horat: od: 2. 17.  
AM not I in thy fever sacrificed?  
That you alone by Fate should besurprized,  
(You my sole sunshine, my souls wealth and pride)  
Is both by me and by the Gods denied:  
If hasty death take thee (my soul) away,  
Can I, a loathed imperfect carcase stay?  
No no; Our twisted lives must be cut both  
Together; This I dare confirm by oath,  
When e'er thou leap''st into the fatal boat  
I'll leap in, glad with thee in death to float:  
Nor shall that dubious monster, breathing fire,  
Nor Gyges' hundred hands did he respire,  
Pluck me from this resolve approved so  
By Fate and Justice: whither Scorpio  
Fierce in my Horoscope, or Capricorn  
Oppressing Latium with his watery horn,  
Or Libra brooded my nativity,  
'Tis sure our mutual Stars strangley agree.   

To the same,  
Recovered of the small Pox.  

NAture foreseeing that if thou wert gone,  
And we her younger Children left alone,  
None could with Virtue feed this beggared age  
(For with thee Heir is gone, and Heritage)  
In pity longer lent us Thee, that so  
Thou mightst lead mankind, and teach how to go,  
How to speak Languages, to discourse how,  
How the created book of things to know,  
How with smooth cadence harsher verse to file,  
Within soft numbers to confine a stile,  
And lastly how to love a friend, for this  
Lesson the Crown of human actions is.   

Nor was't in pity to our state alone.  
She, as all do, reflected on her own,  
And gave thee longer breath, that our desire  
Might learn of thine her beauty to admire  
Nor out of pity to thy youth, whose hearse  
Not to thyself, but to the Universe  
Had shipwreck been; For thou hadst stood being dead  
Above the sphere of being pitied.  
Let then this thy redintegrated wrack  
Not Irksome be if only for our sake,  
(For friendship is the greatest argument  
Moves us to be from Angels here content)  
Yet one inducement more thy stay may plead,  
That nature hath so clean thy prison made;  
What though she pit thy skin? She only can  
Deface the woman in thee, not thee Man.    

To the same.  
LEt me not live if I not wonder why  
In night of rural contemplation I,  
So long have dreamt, when from thy lips I might  
As instantly gain intellectual light  
As by this amphitheatre of air  
The sudden beams of Sol imbibed are;  
Why then by reflex Letters like the Moon  
Shine I, when thou invitest me to thy Noon?  
Why do I vainly sweat here to control  
Th' assertors of the perishable soul,  
Where all the reason I encounter, can  
Scarce win belief a tustick is a man.  
To reconcile the contradiction  
Of freedom with Predestination,  
To be resolved the Earth doth roast upon  
Her axe is as a spit against the Sun,  
Or what bold Argive fleet durst to translate  
Of those beasts that first strayed from Ararat,  
Only the noxious to America,  
And how these puny Pilots found the way,  
Or whether from the habitable Moon,  
Like Saturn, they, and Vulcan, tumbled down,  
Whether abroad Imaginations work,  
Whether in numbers potency doth lurk,  
Whether all Earth intended was for gold,  
And thousands more we doubtfully do hold?  
Thus we poor sceptics in the region  
Of Fancy float, foes to assertion,  
But I will perch on thee, and make my stand  
Of settled knowledge on thy steady hand.   

To the same, On my Library, A satire.  
A Hundred here together buriedly,  
Still jangling with eternal enmity,  
Contesting after death; The stagirite  
Advanceth there with his trust band, to fight  
Against Ideas: Th' Epicurean Band  
In arms which pleasure guilt, here ready stand  
To charge the rusty Sword of the severe  
Stoic. Phlebotomizing Galen there  
Triumphs in blood, and not the bad alone  
Exterminates his corporation,  
But makes joint ostracism for the good;  
Till later wits resenting nature's food  
In greatest need Promiscuously had been  
Disgarisond, invent new discipline,  
Strengthening the vitals with some cordial dose,  
Which Nature might which unbroke files oppose.  
But upon fresh supplies let her cashier,  
If not reducible, each mutineer.  
On yonder shelf we may the heritage  
Find of this heathen sword fallen to our age:  
A doubtful blade whose fore-edge guards the sense  
Of Stoics Fate; The sharp back is the fence  
Of Lernaean Predestination,  
The bane of crowns and true devotion.  
The wills ability Pelagius calls  
What peripatetics style Pure naturals.  
The point by which Philosophy did use  
To prove Ideas, you'll confess obtuse  
To that by which Religion now maintains  
Uncouth chimeras of exorbitant brains.  
As the world's noble soul, the generous Sun  
By an equivocal conjunction  
Begets the basest creeping progeny,  
So when the princely Sire philosophy  
Adulterates faith, the monsters that arise  
Degenerate to bastard Heresies.  
Thus have I made a short narration  
Here of a posthumus contention:  
They to thy Judgement all submit their hate,  
Hoping thy presence soon will moderate  
Their vast dissent, as element all strife  
Is ●inder far when actuated by life.   

To the same, on his Poems and Translations.  
IF what we know be made ourselves, (for by  
Devesting all materiality,  
And melting the bare species into  
Our intellect; ourselves are what we know)  
Thou art in largeness of thy knowing mind  
As a seraphic essence unconfined,  
Content within those narrow walls to dwell,  
Yet canst so far that point of flesh outswell  
That thine intelligence extends through all  
Languages which we European call.  
What Colossaean strides dost thou enlarge!  
Fixing one foot in Sequan's watery barge  
Dost in Po tother lave, teaching each Swan  
A note more dying than their Idiom can:  
Vexed Tagus Nympths receive of thee new dresses,  
Composing in Thame's glass their golden tresses:  
Yea more I've seen thy young Muse bathe her wing  
In the deep waters of Stagira's Spring.  
Nor do thy beams warm by reflex alone;  
Those that emerge directly from the Sun  
Of thy rich Fancy, warm our loves, as well  
As those whom other Languages repel;  
Thou the divine acts thus dost imitate,  
As well conserve an Author, as create.  

On then brave youth, learning's full system; Go  
Enlarge thyself to a vast Folio;  
That the world in suspense where to bestow  
That admiration which it late did owe  
To the large knowing Belgic Magazine [H. Grot]  
May justly pay it thee as his assign:  
If future hours with laden thighs shall strive  
To fill as well thine intellectual hive  
As those are past, the Court of Honour must  
To Crown thee, ravish Garlands from his dust.    

To the same on his Poems,  
That he would likewise manifest his more Serious labours.  

THou Natures step here treadest in,  
Dost show us but thy souls fair skin,  
What fancy more than Intellect did spin.   

Thus Nature shows the roses paint,  
Us with the outside doth acquaint,  
But keeps reserved the soul of the fair plant.   

Thy sails all see swelling with haste;  
Yet the hid ballast steers as fast  
His steady course as the apparent mast.   

For though carved works only appear  
We know there is a Basis here  
Doth them together with the fabric bear.   

And that thy lightning Intellect,  
Though in the clouds yet undetect  
Can nature's bowels pierce with its aspect.   

Melting through stubborn doubts his way,  
Whilst Fancy guilds things with her ray,  
And but o'th' surface doth of Nature play.   

But whilst thy Intellect doth wear  
Thy fancies dress, his motions are  
In Epicides not his proper sphere.   

Break forth and let his double sign  
In their own orbs distinctly shine;  
Castor alone bodes danger to the Pine.    

To the same  
On His Translation of two Spanish novels.  
THis Transplantation of Sicilian Loves  
To the more pleasing shades of Albion's groves  
Though I admire, yet not the thing betrays  
My soul to so much wonder, as the ways  
And manner of effecting; That thy youth  
Untravailed there, should with such happy truth  
Unlock us this Iberian Cabinet,  
Whose diamonds you in polished English set,  
Such as may teach the eyes of any dame  
Ith' British Court to give and take a flame;  
Herein the greatest miracle we see,  
That Spain for this hath travelled unto thee.   

To the same.  

DAmon, thrice happy are thy lays  
Which Amarillis deigns to praise,  
And teachest them no restless flame,  
But centres thy love there whence first it came!   

Her Soul she, and her wealthy flocks  
Mingles with thine; Braids her bright locks  
Becomingly with thy brown shade,  
Whence the Morn is so sweetly doubtful made.   

Oh may that twisted twilights power  
Infuse in each successive hour  
Eternal calms, untainted rays!  
Your tresses rule her nights, and hers your days!   

Whilst Thyrsis his sad reed inspires  
With nought but sighs and hopeless fires;  
Yet glad to spy from his dark Cell  
The dawn of Joy from others night expel.    

On the Marriage of my dear Kinsman T. S. Esq and Mrs. D. E.  
WHilst the young world was in minority  
Much was indulged; no proximity  
Of equal blood could then style marriage  
Incestuous: But in her riper age  
Nature a politician grew, and laid  
A sin on wedlock that at home was made:  
That Families being mixed, the world might so  
Both Issue propagate and Friendship too,  
How will you two then Natures frown abide,  
Who are in worthiness so near allied?  
(For sure she meant that other virtues be  
Enlarged thus, as well as amity.)  
Civility you might have taught the North,  
She the South Chastity: But now this worth  
Is wanting unto both, 'cause you engross  
And to yourselves communicate this loss.  
But since best tempers vertae soon admit,  
Your two well-tuned complexions may so fit  
A ●●cond race, and natural goodness lend,  
That nature shall not thus miss of her end.  
On matchless couple then, Hymen smiles, on,  
And by a perfect generation  
Such living Statues of yourselves erect,  
That they those virtues which this age reject  
May teach the future, and to act restore,  
All Honour, living only now in power.  
Be thou the Adam, she the Eve that may  
Pople a true real Utopia.   

To Mrs. D. S. on the birth of Sidney, her second Son.  
Dear niece.  
MAY rest drown all thy pains: But never sleep  
Thy painful merits whilst feet Verses keep,  
And muse's wings they shall along, and blow  
Thy Fame abroad, whilst time shall circuits go  
To judge strifes elemental, and arowse  
The drowsy world to mind this noble spouse.  
How opportunely her heroic fruit  
Waving her own, doth our torn sex recruit  
Two boys have sprung from her wombs lively mould,  
‛ Ere both the Parents forty Summers told.  
She might such human Goddesses produce  
As might the relapsed world again amuse  
Into Idolatry, and justify  
Bright Cypria fable, each poetic lie  
Old Greece or any modern lover made  
To deify the beauty of a Maid.  
But The prizing her mate 'bove her own eyes  
Him rather with his likeness gratifies;  
The reason, if a Poet may divine,  
Why all her blossoms quicken masculine  
Is, that her Brethren (never extant seen,  
But possible) by Fate have kindred been  
Into her flesh, which flowers in Virgin Snow  
Benumed, slept in their winter cause, till now  
That nuptial Sun approached, whose piercing ray  
Opening their Urn, recalled them into day.  
On this trade angels wait, and on their wing  
Created souls into new Bodies bring:  
What power hath Love, that can set Heaven a task  
To make a Gem, when he prepares the Cask?  
And if well set, or void of heinous flaw,  
Ordained by the Creatures gracious Law  
For his own weating, which himself will own  
An Ornament even to his burnished Crown.  
On then fair spouse, and ease the pangs of Birth  
By thinking you every both Heaven and Earth.  
Think you may live till they in honour's sphere  
Brighter than the Tindaridae appear;  
And than you cannot die? the lives you gave,  
They amply will repay, despoil the grave  
Of your immortal name: may you behold  
Them fully act the praise I faintly told.   

Horat: Od. 3. 3.  
A Man indeed uwith Virtue fears nothing.  

THe presence of a Tyrant, nor the zeal  
Of Citizens forcing rebellions,  
Can shake a squarely solid soul, the seal  
Infringe of honest resolutions:   

Untroubled He on stormy Adria sails;  
At Thunder is undaunted as the oak:  
If nature in a general ruin fails  
He with contented mind sustains the stroke.    

To Sr. J. G. wishing me to regain my fortunes by compliance with the Parliament.  
THE resignation of myself and mine  
I prostrate at the footstep of his Shrine,  
Who for the mighty love he bore to me  
Laid out himself in each capacity,  
Unasked pawns his deity, and shrouds  
All mighty feebleness in human clouds,  
And even that Cottage did to death engage  
For three days, to redeem our Heritage;  
For no less price than his humanity  
Could ransom us, stamped with divinity.  
The story of this noble Surety (friend)  
Should to such ecstasy our zeals extend,  
That our Estates or selves we ne'er should deem  
So free, as when they mortgaged are for him:  
I therefore can with a contented mind  
Shake hands with all the wealth of either Ind;  
In a clear conscience finding riches more  
Than there the Sun bequeathes unto his Ore;  
Who drinks with sacred Druids at the brook,  
(Whose unjust sufferings are for guilt mistook,)  
And from their mouth (now the forbidden tree  
Alas, of knowledge) sucks divinity,  
With Angels on an honest bed of leaves  
Redintegrated Paradise conceives;  
For Heaven is only God's revealed face;  
So these make Paradise, and not the place.   

The World.  

Is this that goodly Edifice  
So gaz'd upon by greedy eyes?  
A scene where cruelty's expressed,  
Or Stage of folly es at the best.   

Who can the music understand  
From the soft touch of nature's hand,  
When man her chiefest Instrument  
So harshly jars without consent.   

Do not her natural agents too  
Fail in their operations, so  
That he to whom they best appear  
Sees but the tombs of what they were?   

Her chiefest Actions than are such  
That no external sense may touch;  
Shown doubtfully to the mind's sight  
By the dark Phancy's glimmering light.   

The Night indeed which hideth all  
Things else discloseth the Stars pale  
And sickly faces; but our sense  
Cannot perceive their Influence.   

They are the hidden books of Fate,  
Where what with pains we calculate  
And doubt, is only plainly known  
To those assist their motion.   

The close conveyances that move  
With silent virtue from above  
Incessantly on things below,  
Our duller eyes can never know.   

Nothing but colour, shape and light  
Create their species in our sight:  
All substances avoid the sense  
Close couched under accidents,   

In which attired by nature, we  
Their loose apparel only see;  
Spirits alone Intuitive,  
Can to the heart of essence dive.   

Why then should we desire to sleep  
Grovelling like swine in mire, so deep,  
The mind for breath can find no way,  
Choked up, and crowded into clay.   

Stripped of the flesh, in the clear spring  
Of Truth she baths her soaring wing  
On whom do all Ideas shine  
Reflected from the glass divine.    

Grey hairs.  
WElcome grey hairs, whose light I gladly trust  
To guide me to my peaceful bed of dust:  
My life's bright Stars, whose wakeful eyes shut mine;  
Stand on my head as Tapers on my shrine,  
The world's grand noise of nothing (which invades  
My soul) exclude from deaths approaching shades;  
But as the day is ushered in by one  
And the same Star that shows the day is done,  
This twilight of my head, this doubtful sphere,  
My bodies Evening, my soul's Morning Star,  
Th' allay of white amongst the browner hairs  
As well the birth as death of day declares;  
As he whom from the Hill saw the moist Tomb,  
Of earth, together with her pregnant womb,  
This mingled colour with ambiguous strife  
Demonstrates my decaying into life.  
Thus life and death compound the world; Each weed  
That fades revives by sowing its own seed:  
Matter supposed the whole Creation  
Is nothing but form and privation:  
No borrowed tresses than no cheating die  
Shall to false life my dying locks belie;  
I shall a perfect microcosm grow  
When as the alps, I crowned am with snow.  
I will believe this white the milky way  
Which leads unto the Court of endless day.  
Then let my life's flame so intensely burn  
That all my hairs may into ashes turn,  
Whence may arise a Phoenix to repay  
With Hallelujahs this Eygnean lay.   

A Dialogue upon death.  Phillis. Damon. Phil: 
DAmon amidst the blisses we  
In joint affections fully prove,  
Doth it not sometimes trouble thee,  
To think that death must part our love?  Damn: 
Though sweets concentrate in thy arms,  
And that alone I revel there,  
A willing prisoner to those charms,  
Love cannot teach me death to fear.  Phil: 
Say of these sweets I should beguile  
Thy taste by my inconstancy,  
And on thy rival Thyrsis smile,  
Would not that loss work grief in thee?  Damn: 
Oh nothing more; For here to be  
Is Hell and thy embraces lack;  
Yet is it Heaven even without thee  
To die; Then only art thou black.  Phil: 
Then only art thou black my dear;  
When death shall blast thy vital light;  
Whilst I in life's bright day appear,  
Thou sleepest forgot in deaths sad Night.  Damn: 
Thou art thick-sighted; couldst thou see  
Far off, the other side of death  
Would such a prospect open thee  
As thou must needs be sick of breath.  Phil: 
How can that be, when sense doth keep  
The door of pleasure? That destroyed,  
The soul if it survive, must sleep,  
Senseless of delectation void.  Dam 
Sense is the door of such delight  
As beasts receive; through which alas  
(Since Nature's nothing but a fight,)  
More enemies than friends do pass:  
Nor is the soul less capable,  
But naked doth her object prove  
More truly; as more sensible  
Is this fair hand stripped of its glove.  Phil: 
My Damon sure hath sufeirted  
Of Phillis, and would fain get hence;  
Yet mannerly he veils his dead  
Love under a divine pretence.  Damn: 
Whilst I am flesh thou needst not fear  
Of love in my warm breath a dearth;  
For since affections earthly are  
They must love thee the fairest Earth.  Phil: 
If thou receive a certain good  
Of pleasure in enjoying me,  
'Tis wisdom then to period  
Thy wishes in a certainty.  Damn: 
Joys reaped on earth like grasped air  
Away even in enjoyment fly;  
Certain are only such as bear  
The stamped of immortality.  Phil: 
Shall we for hope of future bliss  
The good of present Love neglect?  
Who will a Wren possessed dismiss,  
A flying Eagle to expect?  Damn: 
Who use not here the Heavenly way,  
And in desire of thither go,  
Will at their death uncertain stray  
Losing themselves in endless woe.  Phil: 
Since death such hazards wait upon  
Isle unfrequent love's vain delight,  
And wing my contemplation  
For prea-acquaintance with that height.  Damn: 
Come then, let's feed our flocks above  
On zions hill; so will delights  
Grow fresher in the vale of Love:  
Change thus may whet chafed appetites.   

Death.  
SUnk eyes, cold lips, chaps fallen, cheeks pale and wan  
Are only bugbears falsely frighting man;  
This is the vizard, not deaths proper face,  
For who looks through it with the eye of Grace  
Shall find death decked in so divine a ray  
That none would be such a self-foe to stay  
In mortal Clouds, did not the wiser hand  
Of supreme power join with his strict command,  
Pangs in our dissolution, which all shun,  
But would wish, if they knew life then begun.  
Man is a Creature mixed of Heaven and Earth;  
Of beast and angel; when he leaves this breath  
He is all angel; The souls future eye  
Is by the prospect of Etern●ty  
Determined only; who content doth rest  
With present good no better is then Beast.  
The heathens proved since the soul cannot find  
In nature's store to satisfy the mind,  
Her essence supernatural, and shall have  
Her truest object not before the Grave.  
Could I surmise the immaterial mate  
Of this dull flesh should languish after fate  
Like widowed Turtles; or the glimmering light  
Bereaved of her dark lantern should be quite  
Blown out by death; or dwell on faithless mire,  
Inhopitable fens, like foolish fire  
wandering through dismal vales of horrid night  
Th' approach of death deservedly might fright.  
But faiths clear eye more certainly surveys  
Then any optic Organ, for the rays  
That show her object to us are divine  
Reflected by Th' omniscient crystalline.  
They then who surely know death leade●h right  
To a vast Sea of ravishing delight  
Cannot, when he knocks at their earthen Gate,  
Suffer him storm his entrance, but dilate  
Their ready hearts as to a friend, for now  
He bears no sting, no horror in his brow;  
The christial-ruby stream which did pursue  
The spear that sluiced Christ's side died his grim hue  
To white and red, beauties complexion:  
He comes no more to spoil thy mansion,  
But to afford thee that Inheritance  
Which cannot be conceived without a Trance;  
To be translated to the fellowship  
Of angels, there with an immortal lip  
To drink Nectarean bowls of endless good,  
Where the creator's face is the souls food.  
The best condition here is but to be  
An elect spouse to that great deity,  
But death the Bride-maid leads us to the bed  
Where youth and pleasures are eternised:  
When I consider the whole world obeys  
Creation's law, only untame man strays,  
I cannot think this is his proper sphere  
Where all his actions move irregular  
Nor shall my wishes ever so exclude  
The decent orderly vicissitude  
Of nature's constant Harmony, to pray  
For a harsh jarring by unruly stay.  
These with the p●ines and shame of doting age  
Wit cause the mind betimes to loathe her Cage.   

On the death of my dear brother Mr. H. S. drowned.  
The Tomb.  

WHy weeps this Marble? can his frigid power  
Thicken the ambient air into a shower?  
Ah no; these tears have sure an other cause  
Then the necessity of nature's laws;  
These tears their spring have from within; there lies  
The spoil of Nature, crime of destinies:   

How well this silent sadness doth become  
His awful shade; the horror of the Tomb  
Strikes paleness through my soul; yet I must on  
And pay the rights of my devotion.  
Pardon you guardian angels (who attend  
And keep his bones safe from the stygian fiend)  
That I disturb your watch with untuned lays  
I come to mourn and not to sing, his praise.  
A Sun that sat in floods, but, oh sad haste,  
Ere the Meridian of his age was past,  
A purer day the East did ne'er disclose;  
Then in his clear affections orient rose  
Tempestuous passion did in him appear  
But physic, as the lightnings purge the air:  
Martial his temper was, yet overcame  
Others by smiles, himself by force did tame;  
Here lies the best of man: nature with thee  
Lost her perfection and integrity.    

On the same.  
The Boast.  
HOW well this brittle Boat doth personate  
Man's frail estate?  
Whose concave filled with lightsome air did scorn  
The proudest storm:  
Man's fleshy boat bears up, whilst breath doth last  
He fears no blast:  
Poor floating Bark, whilst on yond mount you stood  
Rain was your food.  
Now the same moisture which once made thee grow  
Doth thee o'erflow.  
Rash youth hath too much sail, his giddy path  
No ballast hath;  
He thinks his Keel of wit can cut all waves,  
And pass those Graves,  
Can shoot all Cataracts and safely steer  
The fourscorth year.  
But stoop thine ear ill-councelld youth, and hark,  
Look on this Bark,  
His Emblem whom it carried, both defied  
Storms, yet soon died;  
Only this difference, that sunk downward, this  
Waighd up to bl●sse.   

On the same.  
The Tempers.  
THe Elements that do man's house compose  
Are all his chiefest foes;  
Fire, air, Earth, Water, all are at debate,  
Which shall predominate▪  
Sometimes the Tyrant fire in fevers raves,  
And brings us to our graves,  
Sometimes the air in whirling of our brains  
And windy colics reigns;  
Now Earth with melancholy man invades,  
Making us walking shades;  
Now water in salt rheums works our decay  
And dropseys quench our day▪  
But this war equal was in him; the fight:  
Harmony and delight,  
Till Treacherous Thames taking the waters part  
Surprised his open heart.   

To my dear Sister Mrs. S.  
The Chamber.  
Entering your door Istarted back, sure this  
(Said I) deaths shady house and household is,  
And yonder shines a beauty (as of old  
Magnificent Tombs eternal Lamps did hold,  
In lieu of life's light) a fair Taper hid  
In a dark lantern; an eye shut in's lid;  
A flower in shade; a star in nights dark womb;  
An alabaster column to a Tomb.  
But why this night in day can thy fair eye  
Delight in such an Aethiops company?  
Man hath too many natural clouds; his blood  
And flesh so blind his hood winked soul that good  
Is scarce discerned from bad; why should we then  
Seek out an artificial darksome den?  
The better part of nature hidden lies;  
The stars indeed we may behold, and Skies,  
But not their Influence; we see the fire  
But not then heat; why then should we desire  
More night, when darkness so o'er Nature lies  
That all things mask their better qualities:   

To the same.  
Thursday:  
NOw I'm resolved the crazy Universe  
Grows old, the Sun himself is nigh his hearse;  
Seven Daughters in one week his youthful rays  
Were wont to get; but since his strength decays  
Six are the most: Thursday is lost; for we  
Who boast ourselves skilled in th' Astronomy  
Of your day-shedding eyes, by that light swear  
That day is lost in which you not appear▪  
That thy dark fancy might a giant-woe  
Beget, thou mak'st a night Herculean too;  
The late Astronomers have found it true,  
We have lost many days, but 'tis by you  
Our calculation errs; and we shall rage  
If you go on to cheat us of our age;  
One day in seven is lost; and in threescore  
We are bereaved of nine years, and more:  
So will your grief dilate itself like day,  
And all as you, become untimely grey.   

To the same.  
the Rose.  
AFter the honey drops of pearly showers  
Urania walked to gather flowers:  
Sweet Rose (I heard her say) why are these fears?  
Are these drops on thy cheek thy tears?  
By those thy beauty fresher is, thy smell  
Arabian spices doth excel.  
This rain (the Rose replied) feeds and betrays  
My odours; adds and cuts off days:  
Had not I spread my leaves to catch this dew  
My scent had not invited you,  
Urania sighed and softly said, 'tis so,  
Showers blow the rose and ripen woe:  
For mine (a lass) when washed in floods sweet clean,  
Heaven put his hand forth and did glean.   

To the same.  
Man's Life.  
MAn's life was once a span; now one of those  
Atoms of which old Sophies did compose  
The world; a thing so small, no emptiness  
Nature can find at all by his decease;  
Nor need she to attenuate the air,  
And spreading it, his vacancy repair,  
The swellings that in hearts and eyes arise  
Repay with ample bulk deaths robberies.  
Why should we then weep for a thing so slight  
Converting lives short day to a long night?  
For sorrows make one month seem many years,  
Times multiplying glass is made of tears.  
Our life is but a painted perspective;  
Grief the false light that doth the distance give;  
Nor doth it with delight (as shadowing)  
Set off, but as a staff fixed in a spring  
Seem crooked and larger; then dry up thy tears,  
Since through a double mean nought right appears.   

To the same.  
The Excuse.  
NOr can your sex's easiness excuse  
Or countenance your tears to be profuse.  
Some she's there are, whose breath is only sighs:  
Who weep their own, in others obsequies:  
But in the reason, like the Sun at noon,  
dispels usurping clouds of Passion;  
Where feminine defects are wanting, there  
All Femininee xcuses wanting are;  
Think not, since virtue then above them rears▪  
A woman's name can privilege thy tears:  
Fortune material things only controls  
But doth herself pay homage unto souls:  
There hath no power, can do no injury,  
The Pavement where the stars their dances form  
By their own music, is above all storm:  
For Meteors but imperfect mixtures are  
In the raw bosom of distempered air:  
Then let thy soul shine in her crystal sphere,  
They're Comets in the troubled air appear.   

To the same.  
The Reasons.  
IS it because he died, or that his years  
Not many were, that causeth all these tears?  
If for the first, you should have always wept,  
Even in his life from first acquaintance kept  
Sorrow awake, for that you know his Fate  
Prefixed had a necessary date;  
How unadvisedly do you lament  
Because things mortal are not permanent?  
Or is 't because he ere his aged Snow,  
Or autumn came, was ravished from the bough?  
Ask but the sacred Oracle, you there  
Shall find, untimely deaths no windfall are.  
The grand example, Miracle of good,  
(In virtue only old) slain in the bud  
Newly disclosing man. It were a shame  
To wish then that of his, a longer flame.  
Who would not die before subdued by age?  
That Conquest oft Fortune pursues with rage;  
Or sin in that advantage wounds him worse:  
To wish him long life then, had been a curse.   

To the same.  
The tears.  
YOu modern wits who call this world a star,  
Who say, the other planets too worlds are,  
And that the spots that in the midstar found  
Are to the people there lands and ground;  
And that the water which surrounds the Earth  
Reflects to each, and gives their shining birth;  
The brightness of these tears had you but seen  
Fallen from her eyes, no argument had been  
To contradict that water here displays  
To them as they to us siderious rays.  
Her tears have then the stars a better right  
And a more clear propriety to light.  
For stars receive their borrowed beams from far,  
These bring their own along with them, and are  
Born in the sphere of light; Others may blind  
Themselves with weeping much, because they spend  
The brightness of their eyes upon their tears,  
But hers are inexhaustible; she spares  
Beams to her tears as Tapers lend their light  
And should excess of tears rob her of sight,  
Two of these moist sparks might restore: our eyes  
An humour watery crystalline comprise,  
Why may not then two crystal drops restore  
That sight a crystal humour gave before.  
Love dews his locks here, woes each drop to fall  
A pupil in his eye and sight recall:  
And I hope fortune passing through this rain  
Will at last see to recompense her pain.   

On the death of my much honoured uncle Mr. G. Sandys.  

PArdon (great Soul) if duty grounded on  
Blood and affections firm devotion  
Force my weak muse to sacrilege, and by  
Short-payment rob thy sacred memory.  
To be thy wit's Executor, though I  
No title have, yet a small Legacy  
Fitting my small reception didst thou leave,  
Which from thy learned works I did receive;  
I should then prove unthankful to deny  
Some spices to embalm that memory,  
Whose Soul and better part thy lines alone  
Establish in Eternity's bright throne:  
Our humble art the body of thy fame  
Only to Memphian mummy tries to frame;  
Which though a swarthy dryness it puts on  
Is raised yet above corruption.   

A Tomb of rarest art, Magnificent  
As 'ere the East did to thy eyes present,  
Erected by great Falkland's learned hands  
To thee alive, in his eloqiums stands.  
Thy body we are only then t' inter,  
And to those matchless Epitaphs refer  
The hasty passenger that cannot stay  
To hear thy larger Muse her worth display.   

Unless unto the crowd about the Hearse  
(Those busy Sons of sense) I shall rehearse  
What worth in thy material part did dwell,  
And at the funeral thy Scutcheons spell;  
Declare the extraction of thy noble line,  
What graces from all parts of thee did shine,  
That age thy sense did not at seventy cloud,  
And thee a youth all then but death allowed:  
As for thy Soul, if any do inquire,  
'tis making Anthems in the heavenly choir.    

Epitaph on Sir R. D.  
HEre lies the pattern of good men;  
Heaven and Earths loved Citizen.  
The world's faint wishes scarce can reach  
The good he did by action teach:  
So hating semblence, that his mind  
Left her deportment still behind,  
That he far better was then ere  
Unto the world's eye did appear,  
The poor can witness this, who cry  
Aloud their loss, his Charity;  
The same and feeble now must creep  
To show their crutch is laid asleep.  
His household Servants, Tenants, all  
Weep here their father's Funeral:  
The war that gorged on his Estate  
His Table never could abate;  
If ever he unjust was known,  
'Twas in receding from his own;  
Exchanging what with trouble he  
Might save, to keep tranquillity.  
His host of virtues struck such fear  
Into his foes, they did not dare  
To lay on his, that penalty  
They did on others' Loyalty;  
Which bore with him as high a rate  
As those who bought it with their 'state.  
Prudence and Innocence had made  
A league no harm should him invade,  
Peaceful amidst the wars his life,  
As in the elemental strife.  
Of bodies that are tempered well  
Harmonious souls at quiet dwell,  
When the worst humour had prevailed  
Upon the State, his vita●ls failed▪  
To show, this feeling members health  
Was wrapped up in the commonwealth.   

Grace compared to the Sun.  

GRace as the Sun, incessantly its light  
Dilates upon the universal face.  
Pagans that sit in Antipodian night  
Taste, by reflex of reason, beams of grace.  
Their sickly planet (Queen of night not sleep)  
Her wakeful eye in the sun's beams may steep.   

Grace is the souls Soul; the informing part  
Reason (like Phosphere) ushers in the day;  
But the terene affections of the heart  
Repel which Pharean clouds this sacred ray.  
Internal, as external night alone  
Springs from the earth's interposition.   

Goodness is prized by her own latitude;  
The Persian (wisest of Idolaters)  
Adores the Sun as the most common good,  
From whose balm nature's hand nothing interrs.  
Worse than the Caliph is that votary  
Who worships a less loving deity.   

The Sun would raise this Globe to nobler birth,  
Transforming into Gold each mineral;  
But in disposure of the Stubbourn Earth  
Renders his virtue ineffectual?  
Thus grace endeavours all to sublimate:  
Then blame thyself if not regenerate.    

Upon the Nativity of our saviour and Sacrament then received.  
SEe from his watery Tropic how the Sun  
Approacheth by a double motion!  
The same flight tending to the western seas  
Wheels Northward by insensible degrees;  
So this blessed day bears to our Intellect  
(As its bright fire) a duplycate respect:  
None but a two-faced Janus can be guest  
And fit himself unto this double feast.  
That must before jointly the Manger see,  
And view behind the execrable Tree.  
Here the blessed Virgins living milk, and there  
The fatal streams of the son's blood appear;  
Crowns at his tender feet in Bethlem lie;  
Thorns bind his manly brows in Calvary;  
Th' ashamed Sun from this his light withdrew;  
A new born star the other joyed to show:  
To furnish out this feast, lo, in the pot  
Death here consults the salting antidote:  
But least the sad allay should interfere,  
And corrupt this days smile into a tear,  
This very death makes up a fuller mirth  
Bequeathing to the worthy Guest new birth;  
As to the mystic head, beseemingly,  
So to each member gives Nativity:  
The difference only this, the deity  
Born to our flesh, into his Spirit we.   
FINIS.